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“You’ve got a point,” I said.
Rick continued. “The system isn’t absolute. The Master isn’t an absolute monarch. The relationship works both ways—it’s based on a more ancient, feudal form than anything most modern people are used to dealing with. Vampires put themselves under control of a Master. In return, the Master owes them protection. And if a Master can no longer provide his followers that safety—that’s when the system falls apart.”
“And you’re saying Denver’s old Master couldn’t provide that protection for his followers.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Let’s open the line for calls now and see what other secrets we can pry from Ricardo. Hello, Amanda, you’re on the air.”
“Hi, Kitty, thanks for taking my call!”
“No problem.”
“And Ricardo, oh, my God, this is such an honor.” I’d warned Rick about the hero worship. Even after all these calls, it was a bit perplexing.
“What’s your question, Amanda?” I said.
“Ricardo—are you, like, hot?”
Rick blinked and looked at me with an expression that said help? I just grinned. I was the master here, and I had absolute power. I wanted to see him sweat it out. Do vampires sweat? Why didn’t anyone ever ask if vampires sweat?
“Would you mind explaining the question a bit more?” Rick said, very diplomatically. I applauded him silently.
“I’ve seen all these movies and stuff, and the vampires in them, they’re just so good-looking. So I just wondered if it was like that in real life. Are all Master vampires totally irresistibly good-looking?”
At last, Rick was smiling. He might even have been blushing a little. “I’m afraid I don’t feel qualified to, ah, pass comment on my own appearance. Kitty—you want to offer an opinion?”
“He’s not bad. He’s got a little of that tall-dark-handsome thing going.”
“Thank you. Too kind,” he said, with plenty of sarcasm.
“Just keep in mind, Amanda, what vampires really want is your blood, and the way a lot of them get that is by looking as attractive as they possibly can. They use hotness as a lure. They’re like those deep-sea fish with the tentacle lights.”
Rick raised an eyebrow at me and mouthed the words tentacle lights?
“Anyway, moving on, next call please—”
And so it went. I had to shove the plan to the back of my mind and concentrate on the show. I wanted every show to be the best it possibly could, and having Rick on was something I’d wanted to do right from the start. That part of it, I enjoyed immensely.
After the first hour, I started to worry, because I’d expected a reaction by now. I had my cell phone ready. Dack was keeping watch at my parents’ house, Ben at my mom’s hospital room, and Charlie and Violet were watching Cheryl’s place. They had instructions to call 911 if anything was about to go down. This was an emergency, wasn’t it? I figured a bunch of wailing sirens would at least make the bad guys pause. That was all we needed—a pause during which we could evacuate.
My cell phone stayed quiet. What was happening outside the studio? Dare I ask?
Then it came. The first hornet left the nest, stinger all ready to go.
Matt cut in over my headset. “Kitty, line three’s up.”
That was the private line, in case someone had to get through the rest of the phone chatter to talk to me. Only a few people knew the number. But I had a good idea who this one was.
I punched the line. “Hello,” I said carefully.
“Katherine, I have no idea what you think you’re doing, but you will pay for this. Do you understand me? I would have left you alone but you’ve chosen sides and now—”
Bingo! Bait taken. Now time to set the hook. I switched the phone line over to live. “Hello, Arturo! Thanks for calling. You’re on the air here at The Midnight Hour.”
“Oh, no,” he said. “No you don’t. I won’t be a party to this.” His fury made his accent thicker. It lost some of its aristocratic edge, making me wonder: What had Arturo been before he’d become a vampire?
“I’ve got Ricardo here,” I said. “Wanna talk to him?”
