I check a wall of fancy clocks the train station has on display. It's seven-thirty.
Daeshawn curses under his breath. We're all thinking the same thing. Riley has reminded us how serious this is, and how there's no room for error.
We enter a series of cabs, five of them, and they carry us through the charming, historical town and onto the expressway. It's a twenty-minute drive, and it's full night by the time we pull off an exit and towards the Rose Convention Center that's just off the highway. We're in such a built-up area, with a couple of department stores nearby and a bunch of gas stations, that I can't believe the High Council chose this place to have the Convening. But it's been this way since modern times began. They're hiding in plain sight, and nothing looks off about the enormous building tonight. It's well lit, with not too many cars in the parking lot, and other cabs dropping people off near the entrance before rolling away again. A few limos sit in a side lot, in a roped-off area reserved for Rich Kid Academy staff, and I cringe as I see Stella herself getting out of one, accompanied by the intimidating men who must be her entourage. She's dressed in a long black coat, and her bun is as elegant as Lily's. The four walk to a side door in formation.
Our drivers pull us up to the front entrance. Two doormen stand at the front, and their perfect jaw lines and proud postures tell me they're Truebloods, probably staff. A human staff member in a bright vest directs traffic, keeping his distance from the predators, and motions for the well-dressed Truebloods of another coven to enter. Everyone looks as if they've arrived at an elegant ball.
“How do they get away with this?” I ask Walton, who sits beside me.
“They must have a lot of human familiars come in,” he says, squinting at the young guy in the bright vest. “The Truebloods have money and influence. I bet this is not the normal staff, and the owners of this place probably know the truth.”
I shudder. Despite some human staff here tonight, we won't have any help.
I hyper-focus on Miranda as we roll up to the main entrance. Our cab driver announces that we're here, and he says something about this looking like a fun event. If only he knew.
We get out and I stretch, stiff from hours of traveling.
So does Walton, and Lola, who got into our cab with us. As we do, a pair of Trueblood women near the door and under the overhang stare at us. They look to be in their twenties, but who knows how long they've been Truebloods? These women could be centuries old for all I know.
I can't read their expressions, but we're being studied. I hope it's just because we're new.
They go inside, and our small crowd, including Lily and her parents, gather near the front door.
Riley ignores me, as he should, and walks up to one of the Trueblood doormen. Thankfully, both lack the red of hunger in their eyes, and I'm hoping everyone has fed before coming. With all these human employees walking around, it would be best for the Truebloods not to blow their cover at such a big event.
“We are the Johnson coven,” he announces. “I am Riley Johnson, and these are my Nightsides.”
The doorman gets out a glowing tablet and scrolls through it. “Formerly Riley Beaumont?” He lifts an eyebrow at our procession.
“Yes. I have forsaken my former father's name. The traitor.” Riley doesn't have to fake his disgust. “We are here for our vote tonight.”
“And I am Mike Rivera, and this is my wife, Ella. And Lily,” Mike says. “We are the hunter guild who balances the Johnson coven. We formerly balanced the Beaumonts, but we needed to drive them out for breaking Trueblood law.”
“Welcome,” the doorman says. “You may enter. Mingling begins shortly, and they serve dinner at one-thirty. The vote will take place at three.”
The hunters enter before we do, which is brave, and then we file into the Convening.
The convention center has a large entry hall, with digital screens announcing upcoming comic cons and expos. Roped-off lines hold more people waiting to get into the main area. Another Trueblood coven waits to get inside, and I spot two non-Truebloods among them, taking up the rear of the dozen. At least, the two men lack the copper rings in their eyes. Nightsides or human servants? I can't tell, but not everyone here being a Trueblood is reassuring. As much as I hate the High Council, I appreciate their efforts to coexist with society.
If the Originator wins, that could change tonight.
The other coven enters the event ahead of us, moving through the turnstiles, and we get in line to enter the Convening.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
My heart thumps as I take up the back of the line, and Riley takes the lead. Though he's near, he feels so far away.
And Stanley stands between me and him, eyeing his back.
And one by one, we enter through the doorway and the turnstile.
The convention center opens up with its vast floors and high ceiling, and I'm shocked at how quiet everything is. I've seen expos and comic cons before, and they're always super crowded with flashy colors, with barely enough room to move or browse any of the booths. But instead of women carrying bags of merchandise and well-done costumes everywhere, the space has turned into a large ballroom.
They’ve roped off half the enormous room and shoved all the food stalls and plastic chairs aside. The other half, our half, now sports rows of black carpets and long tables decked out with cream tablecloths and glassware. Already, Truebloods sit and socialize with one another in low, refined voices, and socialites flutter from table to table, shaking
