Kitty Steals the Show

people that had gathered outside the front doors, smoking and talking while waiting for taxis. A few vampires stood here and there, indistinguishable from other conference attendees, unless you knew what to look for: their skin seemed to radiate cold, and they didn’t breathe, though some of them did smoke as an affectation. They didn’t have to worry about a pesky thing like lung cancer, after all.

Emma wasn’t on the sidewalk, so we went inside to look around. The lobby was still fully lit, busy. All the chairs and sofas were occupied with intense-looking people chatting. I studied the crowd, my nose working to take in scents.

I spotted Emma at the end of a darkened hallway, talking to an earnest, dark-haired man dressed in business-casual. He was a vampire—maybe he’d been at the shindig the other night, but I didn’t think so. Thinking Emma had business and I might be interrupting, I held back to wait for her to finish. They had to know Ben and I were there; I hadn’t been trying to mask my approach. But she’d crossed her arms, her stance was rigid, and the other vampire had moved close to her, looming. When Emma shook her head and looked away, I had to intervene. If I made a mistake I could be embarrassed about it later.

“Hey, Emma, there you are!” I said in my most chipper blond-girl voice.

The stranger glared at me, maybe hoping he could use his vampire powers to flay me alive. Since I wouldn’t meet his gaze, he couldn’t do anything.

“Hi, Kitty,” she said, eyeing the other vampire. Her voice was even; I couldn’t tell if she was happy to see me, pleased at the interruption, or what.

“I’m Kitty,” I said, sticking my hand out, focusing on the guy’s chest to avoid looking at his eyes. I could just about feel Ben wincing behind me.

I couldn’t tell anything about the guy. He might have been Middle Eastern and pale or European and tan. He might have been a newly turned vampire like Emma, or have the dust of centuries in his bones. Whoever he was, wherever he came from, he sneered at my hand and walked away, into the darkness of the corridor behind him.

Emma watched after him, even when he turned the next corner and disappeared.

“Well, he seemed friendly,” I said.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, sounding tired. She gave Ben a thin smile as she walked past him toward the doors. She didn’t even seem bothered that Ben had slipped a stake into his hand. Cormac had probably given it to him—just in case, no doubt.

“What exactly were you planning on doing with that?” I said, nodding to the weapon.

“What do you think?” he said, returning it to an inner jacket pocket.

“This isn’t the place or time for that,” I said.

“You know what Cormac would say? That you trust them too much,” he said.

“No. I trust them just enough. I’m not powerful enough to pose a threat to any of them, and because of my place in the public eye, they can’t risk hurting me. In the meantime, we can all sit around pretending like we’re friends while we try to get information out of each other. It’s all politics.”

By the time we joined Emma on the sidewalk outside, the car had arrived and we piled in for the ride back to Mayfair. As much as I wanted to grill her about who that vampire was and what they’d been talking about, I kept quiet. She was in silent, inscrutable mode. The vampire default.

The car parked in the courtyard of Ned’s town house. Another car was already there: the sexy Bugatti from the other night.

“Ned has visitors?” I said.

“Apparently,” Emma said, brow furrowed. So she wasn’t expecting anyone.

In the foyer, one of the house’s staff approached. “Miss, Master Alleyn has visitors and would like you to join him in the study.”

“Thank you.”

Ben leaned into me. “You’re going to try to get yourself invited to that meeting, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.”

“One of these days, we’re going to take a real vacation. None of the skulking,” he said.

That sounded so nice. “Someplace with a warm, sunny beach.”

“Vampires don’t hang out on sunny beaches. Sounds good to me,” he said.

Smiling back at him, I sidled up to Emma.

“Visitors, huh? Anyone I’d be interested in meeting?”

“Oh, probably,” she said, then considered a moment. “Why not? You want to come along?”

She led us through the house to a set of double doors made of some rich, polished wood that smelled opulent, and knocked softly before opening it. We entered another manor-house library, filled with books, priceless furniture, and portraits, still impressive if not as grand and packed with amazing artifacts as the house in Dulwich.

Ned and two other vampires sat before the fireplace. One of them was Marid, looking as worn and kindly as he had the other night. He smiled when I entered, as if pleased to see me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Did he see me, or did he see another tool in his machinations? The other was the one in the poet’s shirt I’d accused of knowing Byron. Tonight, he looked practically modern, in a T-shirt, dark blazer, and slacks. He appeared younger than the others, which didn’t mean anything. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to Ned, presumably for explanation.

As always, Ned was at ease in the surroundings, in a frock coat and trousers and silk shirt. “Ah, Emma, excellent.” He greeted her with a broad smile. “And you’ve brought our guests. Ms. Norville, I must apologize, I’ve been a terrible host, wrapped up in all this other business. But then, so have you, I gather—what exactly were you doing in Sevenoaks yesterday?”

He was keeping tabs on us—I shouldn’t have been surprised. I could still be annoyed. Giving him a sweet smile, I said, “It was a personal matter.”

“Not even a little hint?” he said, beseeching—teasing me. My expression didn’t flinch.

“Are you sure she should be here?” said the younger-looking vampire.

“She is intriguing,” Ned said. “Marid, what say you?”

“I’d be interested to hear the Wolf Queen’s opinion,” Marid said.

“I’m not the Wolf Queen,” I muttered.

The young one laughed. “All right, color me intrigued.”

“Ms. Norville, Mr. O’Farrell. Meet Antony, Master of Barcelona.”

“The Antony with the car?” Ben said, thumb over his shoulder pointing to the courtyard, and Antony turned up a hand in assent. Ben smirked. “Nice. Subtle.”

“Can we trust them?” Antony demanded of Ned.

“They’re all intriguing,” Ned answered.

“Can we trust you?” I said back to him. “Whose side are you on?”

“That’s too simplistic a question,” the Spanish vampire said, and I wanted to scream.

I laughed instead. “How hard can it be? Are you a good guy or a bad guy?”

He raised a sardonic brow.

Ned said, “Kitty…”

I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and groped toward politeness. “I’m sorry for interrupting. What were we discussing?”

Antony’s chuckle was nervous. “I must confess, Ned, it’s disconcerting to hear a werewolf speak to us in such tones.”

“Wolf Queen,” Marid said calmly.

“You may convince me yet,” Antony answered.

“That’s not what you were talking about,” I said. “In fact, I’m betting you were talking about Mercedes Cook and who’s thrown in with Roman.”

Antony made a pointed sigh. “Right. Mercedes and that bastard Jan are here because they want to move against you, Ned. They’ll put one of Dux Bellorum’s puppets in your place.”

“Jan?” I said. “The smarmy guy with the goatee?”

Ned’s lips twitched. “Yes. And I’ve seen no evidence of their intentions. Mercedes would only act if the situation were unstable, and it’s not.”