We might all be dead in minutes, but I have to stand there and look harmless. Riley hasn't even suggested running away.
“Are we going to come out of this alive?” I hiss as Daeshawn rushes down the stairs.
Riley swallows. “I don't know.”
I want to hug him, but the tension rolls off him in waves. Neither of us needs to say why. As one who stole an ancient vampire's blood without permission, Riley will be on the shit list of this High Council.
It's my hope that they don't know what he did, that word of it didn't reach them.
Riley and I descend the steps, and I can't calm down my heart rate. We could die. Riley and I could get captured and taken to some sort of trial, and Dad isn't here to help. I'm just glad Mom is staying at the Derp House tonight, at my insistence, and that she's probably safe from these people. And how did they get into the town with all the hunters and other Nightsides out watching the perimeter?
Doing what I'm supposed to do, I stand back, hating that I can't help Riley through this. I keep my hands folded over the top of my gray skirt, a skirt that can only fit an employee of this place, or maybe some long-forgotten relative here trying to scrounge for money. Yay.
“Greetings,” Riley says in that drop-dead, graceful voice as he opens the door and stands there with confidence. Maybe this High Council doesn't know about his theft, and the new way Riley carries himself will impress them.
“Greetings,” the woman says.
I get my first glimpse of the High Council. And immediately I know that I'm dealing with power and danger.
The woman stands in the front, and despite the Truebloods not aging, this woman looks older, maybe in her upper fifties, and she has dark hair that's graying and tied up in a bun. I hold back a nervous laugh because she looks almost the way I imagined her. The woman wears an elegant, dark purple dress that communicates high nobility or maybe even royalty, and she looks like an old-fashioned, mean tutor from nineteenth century Victorian high society. She's minus the spectacles, though, with bright blue, severe eyes. A copper ring shines in each, matching those of the other Truebloods. I sense age in them, great age, and wisdom, but also a sharp edge formed by hundreds, no, thousands of years of life and experience. This is a woman who's probably seen every horrific act that people can do to each other, and she's bringing that to the table.
And behind the woman, who is clearly the leader, stands three men, just as powerful and controlling. One dark-skinned man wears a gray suit and very shiny black shoes, and his dreadlocks hang gracefully around his shoulders. He's got a square face and a firm jaw, but his features look like that of a chiseled statue. The other two men look like twins, with the same sandy blond, almost white hair. They, too, have severe eyes, only in the shade of brilliant, copper-flecked hazel. One wears a black suit, and the other a cream-colored suit that does not complement his light hair well at all. They're going too far, trying to tell each other apart.
“You are the new master of this mansion and this coven, correct?” the woman asks. Her accent is classy but unidentifiable, almost as if she made it up on her own. Or it could be some weird hybrid of a bunch of countries she's traveled and lived in over the millennia.
I stay back as Riley offers a small bow. “Yes, I am now. Come in. I hoped that we'd see you.”
The woman's question gives me hope that they don't know about Riley's theft, and that they're here for some other reason. The woman studies him slowly as Riley waits, and at last, she sniffs a bit and nods. So Riley has passed the scent test. I still don't get how these Truebloods can smell the difference between Truebloods and Nightsides. If Dominic had done it, I would have been dead before I could defend myself.
I let my hunter senses take over. The four step inside, gracefully, as Daeshawn scrambles around in the background. I hear his voice as he gets the others up somewhere in the back of the mansion. Only Trish and a guy named Walton are here, and I'm glad that Stanley is missing. The sounds of dressing follow.
“Gather everyone in the mansion,” the woman says, firm but with a tone that says that there is no room for argument. “We would like to see this new coven.”
“Of course,” Riley says. He motions to the dining room, but this woman and the three men don't seem to need direction. Either they've sensed it already or they've been here before, and they're walking to the elegant space before Riley even finishes raising his arm. The four walk past me, in a perfect line and almost with matching footsteps, and as they do, one of the blond men looks right at me.
His nostrils flare.
And then he looks at me as if I'm a butler ready to bring him his wine.
The pressure rises in my head, and Riley looks at me in warning. He's sensed the whole exchange. These are people used to getting what they want.
I wonder why they tolerate us being alive when Dominic sure didn't.
The four seat themselves at the table, and I'm shocked when the woman doesn't take the head of the table the way Dominic used to, and the way Dad used to. The red tablecloth is bright under the chandelier that is always on, and the plates are empty and shining. Fighting down the pressure to lash out and take control of these people, I enter the kitchen behind Riley, biting my lip and standing off to the side.
But the woman looks directly at me. “Sit,” she orders as if
