Ben added, “I think they’re arguing with each other to figure out who belongs to Roman and who doesn’t.”
“The ones who called for the fight, Mercedes and the guy with the goatee. They wanted a distraction.”
“They’re Roman’s,” Ben said. “They don’t want anyone to know.”
We’d pretty much known about Mercedes already, but even the faintest scrap of information about her or any of the others made the whole confrontation worthwhile.
We stepped aside just as the door swung open and Emma came through, harried, lips pursed and upset.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry, I know that was awful, it was…” She put her hand on her forehead and looked downright human. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any influence here or I’d have tried to do … I don’t know. Something.”
“Just tell me the blood donors were volunteers. That it was consensual,” I said.
She didn’t answer, and I rolled my eyes. I wondered where the nearest Underground station was and if the trains were still running so we could get back to Mayfair without getting a ride from Ned and Emma. I wanted to move out of the town house and check into a hotel. I wanted to get out of here.
The door opened again, and the stout, careworn vampire came through. He carried a polished, carved cane, surely an affectation. A vampire wouldn’t need a cane. He was short, which surprised me—he’d given the impression of filling more space.
Emma made room for him, stepping aside and bowing her head deferentially. Ben and I stood side by side, braced, waiting. The man studied us as we studied him.
“You’ve broken up the party,” he said finally. “They’re all leaving through the stage door.”
“Can’t say I’m at all sorry,” I said. “I was having a terrible time.”
He curled the tiniest smile. “The party wasn’t for you. Ned invited you because the others wanted to have a look at you. None of them really believed your reputation could be at all deserved.”
“What reputation? The one where I’m an antiestablishment loudmouth, or the one where I can’t seem to keep out of trouble?”
“Yes,” he said, and I sagged. “It’s a very great pleasure to meet you, Ms. Norville. It’s been a long time since I’ve encountered a Regina Luporum.”
“A what?”
“Queen of the wolves,” Ben said.
“I’m not the queen of anything,” I muttered.
“You stand up for your kind when few do,” he said. He bowed slightly, bending forward at the shoulders, a gesture that managed to confer respect without detracting from his own dignity. “I am Marid, I was born in the city of Babylon, and I am two thousand, eight hundred years old. More or less.”
I could have been forgiven for falling on the floor with hysterical laughter right then. But I was stuck. “I didn’t think I could be surprised anymore.”
“Neither did I,” he said.
“It’s not that I’m skeptical or anything, but you sound so … so…” I could have said any number of words— modern, ordinary,
Ned came through the front doors, looking pleased with himself. “That’s because you have to change your accent if you want to blend in, but no one ever mentions that, do they? You think actors on the stage of the Globe sounded anything like the fellows on the BBC? God, no. We’ve all adapted. Most of us, anyway.”
“Well, Ned,” Marid said amiably. “Did you get what you wanted out of this?”
The Master of London was rubbing his hands together, gleeful. “This turned out to be far more interesting than I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting?” I said, horrified.
He shrugged. “A bit of banter, a bit of posturing. Not the threat of a werewolf pit fight there on the stage.”
I turned to Ben. “Can we call a cab or something?”
Emma said, “No, we can take you back—”
Sighing, I said, “No offense, but I think I’ve had enough vampire hospitality for a while.”
Ned raised placating hands. “Please, Kitty, peace. You can’t afford to throw away allies.”
“Is that what you all are?”
“Kitty. Please stay,” Ned said. “You’ll break Emma’s heart if you go elsewhere.”
I would, too. Damn. She actually had her hands clasped together, pleading. Heaving a sigh, I turned away and paced, wolflike. I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t say no.
Marid—the man who had just told me he was alive when Babylon was the height of modern civilization— interrupted with a calm statement. “You know of Roman. You know of the Long Game.”
“Yes. I’ve faced him down twice,” I said.
He raised a brow. “And lived?”
“I had help,” I said.
“No doubt.”
“So you know about him, too,” I said.
“I’ve known about him from the beginning. There was no Long Game before Roman.”
Another piece of information landed with a thud. “Then you must know who his allies are, where he has power, how to stop him—”
“I didn’t say that,” Marid said, tilting another inscrutable smile.
I looked back and forth between the two Masters. “Do either of you know who’s with Roman and who isn’t?”
“Not all of them,” Ned said. “Some have been playing both sides against the middle for centuries. They’ll have to choose allegiances soon. Many of them don’t believe that time has come.”
“I think many of those will not take Roman’s coins in the end,” Marid said. “They’ve known their own power too long.”
“I hope you’re right, of course,” Ned said. “I’m not sure I’ll depend on that hope, however.”
They were like generals forming a battle plan. “Where do we fit into this?” I asked.
Ned said, “We, meaning you and your mate? Or all the werewolves?”
Taken aback, I had to think a moment. “I don’t know,” I said simply. Queen of the werewolves, huh? Was it too late to go home? “You were the only Master in there who didn’t have werewolf bodyguards. Why not? Do you have a relationship with the local wolves, or are you just not as cool as the other vampires?”
“Please,” he said, an attempt to brush me off. But there was a status thing involved. He hadn’t tried to present Ben and me as belonging to him.
“Does London even have an alpha wolf?”
“Yes. I’ll introduce you to him soon.”
“I may just go looking for him myself.”
“Kitty,” Ned said, hands flattened in a placating gesture. “Don’t interfere in situations you don’t fully understand—”
“Did you even
He opened his mouth to answer, but Marid got there first. “You should understand, this—this is playacting. Harmless, in our eyes. In the old days—” He smiled wistfully, shaking his head. “We built temples to ourselves, bought slaves by the wagonload—don’t look at me like that, Ms. Norville. Don’t judge. If you’d lived in those times you’d have felt the same. We slaughtered them in worship to our gods. We never worried about how we would feed ourselves, or how we would dispose of the bodies. Some of my colleagues would go back to those days, if they could. I think those are the ones most likely to follow Roman.”
“Do you know—is Roman here, in London, for the conference?” I asked.
“No, I don’t believe he is. Only his servants.”
“No chance to go after him directly then.”
“Only his servants,” Marid repeated.
Ned said, “I should remind you that I’ve declared London neutral territory for the duration of the conference.
