Ben met me at the studio, and we walked back to the convention. Emma was going to meet us there with the car to take us back to the town house.
“Where’s Cormac?” I asked once we’d left the studio.
“Nick Parker invited him to dinner, and he said yes. Apparently Amelia wants to meet the family.”
“Huh. That’s so weird.”
“I don’t know. I think it’ll be good for him. He actually seems to be developing social skills.”
“You mean he can’t hide anymore,” I said.
“Yeah, that, too.”
“Hmm, to be a fly on that wall.” I wished them all well. After a hundred years in limbo, Amelia was getting a second chance. A happy ending of sorts.
“How’d your interviews go?” Ben asked.
I sighed. “Maybe Matt can fix it all in post-production.”
He chuckled. “That bad?”
I winced. “I can never tell. I got some great people to come in, recorded a couple of really great interviews. We ought to be able to get a good couple of hours of show out of it.”
“But?”
“It feels like spitting into the wind sometimes.”
“Here I was thinking this whole conference would never have happened without all your work.”
“Work, or mouthing off?”
“Yeah,” he said and put his arm over my shoulders.
“Thanks, I guess. But is it for the best? Would it have been better if this had all stayed underground?”
He waited a few steps before saying, “I don’t know.”
I tried to imagine a world in which I didn’t have my show—in which I had never announced to everyone that I was a werewolf—and had a tough time with it. I’d still be bottom of the pecking order of the pack at home, the old alphas would probably still be alive, and still beating me up. I’d have never met Alette, Emma, Dr. Shumacher, Tyler, Luis, Esperanza, or a dozen other of my friends. Including Cormac. And Ben would be dead, because I wouldn’t have been there for Cormac to bring him to, to save him after he’d been attacked.
I reached around and hugged him. “I wouldn’t want things any different.” He kissed the top of my head.
We continued on a few more steps, warm and comfortable, before Ben said, “I suppose this would be a bad time to ask you how your speech is coming along.”
I groaned. “I still haven’t written it. What am I going to do?”
“You can always wing it. That might be kind of fun.”
“For who?”
“I’d bring popcorn to that,” he said, and I fake-punched his shoulder.
We reached the hotel. A few protestors lingered, gathered behind the police barricades and holding their signs. Most of them seemed to have given up for the evening.
Vampire-centric programming would be going on now. I turned my nose to the air and watched the clumps of 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 mea
n 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.”
“She’ll act precisely because you are so comfortable. With London in her pocket, her hold—Dux Bellorum’s hold—on Europe would be unbreakable.”
Ned shook his head. “I’m not a lynchpin.”
“Talbot approached me,” Emma said, her clear voice a contrast to the others. They turned, startled by the interruption. “He suggested I start spying on you, Ned.”
“Talbot, who is that?” Antony said.
“Talbot is one of Jan’s,” Marid said.
Antony’s expression darkened. “It’s a very short step from asking her to spy on you to using her to remove you.”
Ned steepled his hands and gazed at the air, distracted. “They targeted you because you’re new. A stranger to them.”
“They didn’t understand that they weren’t asking me to betray you, but Alette,” Emma said.
“You’re Alette’s, then?” Antony said. “I don’t think anyone knows that. The old girl’s still got her hand in it. Good.”
Emma turned away, her smile thin, pained.
Ned said, “It’s their usual mistake—discounting you Yankees entirely. To think, they all believed Alette mad for moving her household. But the lack of competition overseas made her—and her followers—powerful. I’m curious—what did he offer you?”
“The usual. Second-in-command of London. I’m not old enough to want that kind of power. They’d give it to me, then destroy me with it.”
“I’m very glad Alette sent you to me, Emma love.” He caught her hand and kissed it lightly.
“She wanted me to learn,” Emma said, sounding young and tired. “I’m not sure she had any idea I’d get caught up in all this.”
By way of interruption I said, “I had my own encounter last night. Werewolves saying they served the Master of Venice delivered a message telling me to stay out of things, for my own good.”
“They even sounded worried about us,” Ben added.
Ned nodded thoughtfully. “Worried that you wouldn’t be safe, or worried that you’re powerful enough to cause trouble?”
“Who knows,” Ben said.
“Filipo hasn’t said a word all week,” Antony said. “What side does this put him on? And why talk to her?”
“Maybe he’s a fan,” I said, shrugging. “The whole thing makes me more curious, not less.”
“You certainly are something of a wild card,” Ned said.
I crossed my arms. “You really think Mercedes will try to replace you as Master of London?”
He shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I’ll be on alert, certainly. But this is about more than London.”
“It’s the public question, Kitty,” Marid said. “So much has been revealed. How much, then, do we continue to hide? Is hiding even the right response anymore?”
“Exactly,” Antony said, pointing. “We bring the fight to the public, then no one can hide.”
“You’re in my territory now,” I said, quirking a grin. “I can tell you all about publicity.”
“Do you advocate it?” Marid asked.
“Jury’s still out,” I said.
Antony said, “Right now the most visible public vampire is Mercedes Cook. She’s beautiful, amiable, charming, has given dozens of interviews—and she’s a follower of Dux Bellorum. We have to counter that, get one of our own in the public eye.”
“You have someone in mind to be your first public vampire?” I said. “’Cause you know, I could help out with that. It’s not too late to get in on this week’s show.”
They all looked at Ned, who rolled his eyes.
“It’s perfect,” Antony argued. “Cook was already famous before she declared herself. It endeared her to the public. Ned can do even better than that—he was famous four hundred years ago! She’s an actress, you’re an actor—who better?”
“I will have Shakespeare, Marlowe, and John Donne scholars camped on my doorstep for the rest of eternity. Do you have any idea what I’d go through?” Ned said. He leaned conspiratorially toward me. “I married Donne’s daughter, did you know that?” I hadn’t.
To get a scoop like that, to be the one to help Ned Alleyn go public as a vampire … my talk show personality was absolutely drooling. But the rest of me knew it wasn’t that simple.
“It only works if people believe you’re really Ned Alleyn,” I said. “Can you prove it? Link the person you are now with who you were then?”
“That won’t be the issue,” Ned said. “Mercedes Cook has endeared herself to the public because they don’t have to believe that she’s four hundred years old, or older. She rose to fame in current living memory. She says she’s a vampire and it makes her a novelty, but it doesn’t make her threatening. Try to tell that same public that an Elizabethan actor is still alive—it’s not merely fantastical to the average person, it’s frightening. I’m willing to listen to the argument that more of us need to become public figures. I’m not willing to agree that that person ought to be me. There are better choices.”
“You’re being stubborn, Ned,” Antony said.
“I’m also right,” he answered.
“I think I agree,” I said. “It would be like a grave opening up and the occupant climbing out. Too creepy.”
“Kitty’s made a career of public relations,” Ned said. “We would do well to listen to her.”
“You’re a coward, Edward Alleyn,” Antony said.
“I’m also over four hundred years old. There’s a correlation. Besides, I don’t see how that matters. It’s not as if Mercedes is rallying the masses to the cause of our enemy.”
“Not yet,” Antony said. “But if she already has the majority of us on her side, there’ll be damned little to oppose that when the time comes.”
“You talk like this is going to be a real war. Not a metaphor,” I said.
“It is,” Antony said, as if it was obvious.
“And you think it’s coming soon.”
“Don’t you?”
“Depends,” I said. “Soon on your scale or mine?”
“Soon on a mortal scale, Kitty,” Ned said. “Dux Bellorum has exposed himself these last few years, revealing himself to people like you, who are—or at least were—outside the Long Game. He’s gathering power. It can’t be long.”
I sat on a chair at the edge of their circle, leaning forward. Ben stayed behind me, hand on the chair’s back. I could feel his warmth radiating.
“What’s he planning, then? Everyone I’ve talked to about the Long Game says it’s leading to something, that there’s an endpoint. What are we talking about? He enslaves all the werewolves? Destroys all the vampires? Overruns nations with his hordes? Runs for president? Does anyone have any idea?”
“‘And there were voices, and thunders, and lightnings; and there was a great earthquake, such as was not since men were upon the earth, so mighty an earthquake, and so great.’” Ned the orator intoned the words, which filled the room, and the house, echoing through the foundations.
“That’s not Shakespeare,” I said.
“No,” Marid said. “It’s the Book of Revelation.”
Oh. Well then. “Okay. So we’re talking Biblical. That still doesn’t tell me anything.”
“If we knew, we’d be able to stop him, wouldn’t we?” Antony said.
Kitty Steals the Show (Kitty Norville) Page 14
