Days 8-12: 5,909 words, 19,451 total

Part 4: Tea with the Devils

All of New Granada is magical, but Clearview Heights has the magic of money, second only to the magic of blood. It reclines on the slope of Mount De Vries like a Roman senator on a banquet bed. The sidewalks are marble, and the alley cats wear diamond collars.

I felt drab and inadequate as Kirill's Jag rolled smoothly through the Clearview twilight. I'd spent close to two hours taking care of my looks, but I knew that my skin was not even close to vampire-smooth, and my hair only held together because I'd used an entire packet of pins to staple it to my head. I'd long given up on wearing dresses to Arthur's functions; if I was lucky, the embroidered chocolate satin thing I had on would help me melt into the background within the first five minutes.

Leather would have been better, a treacherous part of my mind whispered. And snakeskin.

I shook my head and stretched out, pressing my back into the soft leather of the seat.

"Why can't I have a car like this?" I said.

"A Jaguar?" Kirill eased the car into another turn and looked at me with a small smile. "I've never seen you drive."

"Hey, if I can take advantage of private chauffeurs..." I winked. "I've had a license for sixty years now. Not like you can do anything fun without it in this country."

He shook his head. "I'll believe it when I see it."

He turned his attention back to the road as he navigated the driveway of Darkspring House, the seat of power for all New Granada vampires for the past three centuries, but he was smiling. So was I, and I'd needed that.

Did I mention I have a strong dislike of formal vampire occasions?

Darkspring House is built like a wasp nest, tier upon tier of concentric circles of rooms, with each successive owner adding his own extensions. In the middle there is a chamber with wooden walls and a low ceiling, with furs on the floor and a fireplace large enough to roast a whole ox, used for the most formal councils and for trials of vampires who break the prince's decrees. The first vampire ruler of New Granada was once a Viking, and vamps are big on tradition.

The room is also a favorite of Arthur's, maybe because it reminds him of military tents. He spent his life fighting to preserve the order in the Empire, and somehow I don't think he ever got the message that he doesn't owe duty to any crown anymore.

He was standing in front of the unlit fireplace when we were showed in. The only light in the room came through glass-less skylights in the ceiling, and the cold October wind spiraled across the room, tangling in the wide sleeves of my shirt and in Kirill's hair.

In the waxing moonlight, Arthur looked like a ghost of a general haunting some distant field of battle, looking for troops that are long dust. A short cape fell off his shoulder, completing the fetching picture.

I smiled. Drama queen.

"May the Night look kindly upon us," Kirill greeted him formally.

Arthur seemed to shake himself out of a reverie. "And guide our steps in the dark. Welcome, you're my first guests tonight."

"I prefer your company to that of IRS agents." Kirill smiled, showing a little fang.

"I would have thought both would be equally unpleasant obligations in your opinion."

This drew a laugh from both of them.

"I'm surprised the IRS agent is still alive," Arthur continued. His pale green eyes turned towards me.

"Not my fault, your grace." I shrugged. "Kirill Yevgenyevich won't let me arrange any accidents. I just hope the council will be footing Anton Kirillovich's therapy bills."

"Alas, the council is dependent on the donations of concerned citizens."

"Which are generous. At the moment," Kirill said.

Then they both looked at the door. I didn't hear anything, but I knew my cue - the dramatic pose is one of the first tools in any vamp's arsenal, and I've learned how to be a good accessory. I went down on one knee in front of the fireplace, reached for the tinderbox and prepared to light the fire. Kirill's hand rested in my hair. Arthur assumed his previous position, now watching us as well. An image of unity and mystery to anyone who approached, with an emphasis on the fact they had my magic at their disposal.

A rustle of fabric in the doorway, and I struck the light. The dry timbers leapt into flame. Once I was sure the fire was secure, I looked at the door.

Eudokia had chosen an empire dress of stiff satin, the color of old wine. It had a narrow skirt not suited for courtly manners, but still she managed a perfect curtsy. Old habits die hard, and she's old indeed. "May the Night look kindly upon us."

I blinked. Her voice was clipped, her make-up more immaculate than ever.

It looked like Doxie-dearest actually had a heart to break.

I let the vamps do their welcoming rituals - non-bloodsuckers are excluded from them anyway - as I watched Eudokia. She was the undisputed queen of New Granada's night entertainment, with a network of clubs ranging from swing dancing to sexual practices illegal even in Amsterdam. She was also Kirill's closest ally in New Granada; part of that was the Eastern thing, but mostly because their chief concern was keeping the commerce going. Yet where he did not place too much stock in etiquette, though he can out-snob anyone if the mood takes him, she lived and breathed it, formal to a pain.

I'd spent a lot of time with her the previous winter and spring as our plans came to fruition, and I always got the impression that she made a rock look emotional. During the course of those six months she had lost blood-children, risked losing her business, and broken one of the heaviest oaths the vampires know, not without paying the price, and I hadn't seen her bat an eyelid.

I wondered what would happen if we didn't find Justin in time.

Formalities over for the moment, she turned to me and I took it as my cue to rise. Kirill's hand slid down my arm, encircling my wrist for a moment before slipping away.

"You saw their faces," Eudokia said. She walked forward and the fire reflected in her eyes.

"Probably hired meat." I shook my head. "I have my theories, but I'll need time. Merle has people finding out about the car last night-"

"What car?" Arthur asked.

Kirill cut in before I could respond. "There was another attempt at Rachel's life last night; a car tried to run her over on St Germain. The driver fled, but the car is in police custody, and I've been promised insight into any information they get from it."

Something about the way he phrased it set off a bell in my mind, but I decided to let it grow louder before I went looking for it. "The most I can say right now is that someone there is connected to Central Africa," I said instead. "But that could just as easily be another hired gun. I do have some places to start digging, though."

Eudokia inclined her head. "May the Night be with you on your way."

"I have contacted a person who will assist you in conducting the investigation," Arthur said. "She has been of help in solving the werewolf incident. Madame Sands?"

He raised his voice as he called out, and the door on the far side of the room opened soundlessly. The newcomer was a woman of about my physical age, dressed in what looked like J.Lo's idea of courtly fashion, white satin and over-the-top velvet. Bleach-blonde hair, doll-like face, and if she said anything along the lines of totally, like, you know, I was going to gag.

Then she looked at us with a sweet smile and the emptiest eyes I've ever seen. "Good evening. I'm Genevieve Sands."

Her gaze slid over Eudokia and Arthur, rested for a while appreciatively on Anton, and then came to me in an instant of recognition.

I grinned. "Where'd you dig her up from?"

"Magistrix di Geraudi recommended her," Arthur said.

That would have been Salome, then. I remembered her from the Bahamas, bad craziness and all. I'd got a card from her on my birthday a few weeks ago, from somewhere in England, with a Latin quatrain that Kirill said should be my heraldic motto. Something about poison and coiling in wait. I'd let Kirill keep it and sent off a note of my own about the inadvisability of digging into people's Tribunal files.

And if the way Genevieve Sands was looking at me was any indication, Salome had shared the knowledge. The blonde walked briskly towards me and stretched out her hand. "Call me Sands," she offered in a high-pitched California monotone.

"Rachel," I said as I shook her hand. I felt a little magic, but a lot more cunning and edge-dancing, that particular art of balancing between victory and disaster. Synchronicity highway, they call it, and it looked like Sands had a yearly pass.

I turned to Arthur. "Does this mean this is as far as the matter goes during the council?"

"The matter reaches further than our modest circle," Arthur said. "We will have guests from all the parties concerned."

Kirill's eyebrows rose, and I whistled. This implied that the council would not be limited to chief vampires and their dependants, a clear break with tradition that dictated only other vampires were worth talking to. I got by as Kirill's pet mage, but even that was edgy according to older vamps like Eudokia. Then again, Arthur was just over two hundred, and it looked like he was willing to order a new set of rules. But still, non-vamp-related people at a vamp do? Unheard of.

"Provided they don't all kill each other in the entrance hall," I quipped. "And if you invited the werewolves as well, maybe I should have stayed at home." I wondered if that had been the motivation behind saddling Anton with the IRS audit. After all, our misadventure with the wolves had started when he hit on a guy a werewolf girl was pursuing...

"I trust your good judgment, my lady." Arthur gave a short bow that I returned. "Let us prevent bloodshed, then."

By the time we emerged from the inner sanctuary, Arthur's staff had everyone safely ensconced in the largest parlor room and refreshments were being served. I detached myself from Arthur's little cabinet group and took stock of the room while Arthur made the rounds greeting people and everyone else drifted to their assigned seating places.

Arthur hadn't been kidding; the guest roster read like a who-is-who of Nighttime New Granada. I nodded at Alcibiades and Jake, the cream of the Alhambra mage crowd, and got a frown back from Alcibiades, who apparently disapproved of the fact my clothes were in vampire fashion rather than robes. Bully to him; I've never held much truck with the traditional mage community, and the anarchic nature of our society, the epitome of individualism when compared to the strictly formal and ever-scheming vampires or pack-oriented hierarchical werewolves allowed me to do so without problems. What really counts in a mage is how far he can throw a spell, and I'm not half bad at it.

I almost jumped when Virgil, the head of the largest NG pack, appeared at my side and kissed my hand. I don't think I'll ever get used to the fact that the most dangerous werewolf of the city is half a head shorter than me.

"How's the head?" he muttered, referring to our last encounter, when he had thrown me through a wall.

"How's the arm?" I countered. As far as I was concerned, I'd come out ahead. When my enchanted gargoyle had finished with him, he had to be carried out.

"Almost usable."

He bowed, I curtsied, and we parted to sit down where we were supposed to. I noticed that Arthur hadn't been able to resist the temptation to seat the half-dozen werewolves on low benches by the fire, and one of them was already fidgeting as he fought the instinct to stretch out on the carpet. The Alhambra people were next to them; apart from Alcibiades and Jake, the mage delegation contained three women I didn't know, but who all regarded me with frank curiosity. At least I wasn't the worst-dressed woman in the room anymore.

The rest of the crowd were familiar faces. Julian looking as if he just bit into a lemon, as usual. Shadow with some new pretty young thing on his arm, completely vampire-dazed, also as usual - I swear, that guy has a groupie farm somewhere. Marianne with a multicolored headscarf that had no business looking as good as it did. Ron, Laura, Angelica, Tan, Karim and the other usual suspects rounded out the attendance list. I wondered what it meant that out of all the people in the room, the ones I supported and mostly trusted were the soulless creatures subsisting on human blood.

Arthur finally took the high-backed throne-like armchair facing the fire. Kirill and Eudokia occupied two similar, though less ornate chairs on his right and left respectively, and I perched on the armrest of Kirill's chair, trying to look decorative. The rest of the New Granada coterie spread out to the sides, leaving themselves enough space to stress the fact that they were the hosts here, and the intruders only there on their sufferance.

I noticed Sands standing unobtrusively behind Arthur. Her training showed, though I wasn't sure what kind it was; too relaxed for military, too professional for private security. Espionage, perhaps.

"May the Night look kindly upon our deeds tonight," Arthur began formally.

The meeting went on stiffly and uneasily. It turned out that two recently-turned werewolves from two different packs had also gone missing in the alleyways of New Granada; none had been interrogated the way Eudokia's assistant had been, but then I always say that all you need to kidnap a werewolf is a piece of fresh meat. They might boast of wolf traits, but there's enough dog in any of them to send them off yapping excitedly after any tasty moving thing.

The four missing mages got my attention, though. Unlike the werewolves or Eudokia's Justin, they were all reasonably powerful practitioners of the Art and pillars of the Alhambra community, all known for their willingness to contribute to society, a trait that is a rarity among the magical crowd, and therefore their disappearances were quickly noticed as they failed to perform obligations. There were no other common points between them; they all practiced different varieties of the Art, one was newly arrived to New Granada, two had been here for several years, and Willem Holz was a scion of the family that had run Alhambra's financial affairs for close to three centuries.

Willem's disappearance shook me. I don't hold truck with ethnic solidarity, and I haven't set foot in a synagogue for over fifty years, but when I first walked into Alhambra, it had been a pleasure to hear familiar Yiddish words. Later, he helped me with enchanting the gargoyles that guarded Kirill's roof, and we drank a bottle of ten-year-old slivovitz when we finally managed to combine my hermetic spells with the golem principle. He had been a friend, in his quiet unassuming way, and it felt strange to listen to the woman - his sister-daughter, apparently, whom I never met before - tell of how his workshop was found ransacked and his books lying on the floor.

Kirill touched my leg, and I bent to whisper directly into his ear. "Whoever it is, they're going to pay."

"Wild horses?" he mouthed, to all outward appearances listening intently to the story of another missing mage, a hedge witch I didn't know.

"Fire ants," I muttered vindictively.

Arthur threw us a warning look. Right, vampire hearing. Then again, quite a few people in the crowd were grimly smiling at me, clearly sharing my sentiments.

It was when the vampires' turn to speak came that I was truly surprised. It looked as if in the past week just about every blood clan had had people approach them in search of information about other clan-members' habits and peccadilloes, and quite a few had been attacked as well over the last three days. Since a late-night street fight is not exactly news for a vampire, none of them thought it anything important, but the correlation was frightening. I realized that all that limited the vampire kidnapping victims to one recently Changed, inexperienced and meek blood-child was the strength, near-invulnerability and magical abilities that make the vampire the supreme predator of the Night world.

There were some points in common to the attackers and questioners. All were human. All were Caucasian or African, no Asians or Latinos. None had seemed especially magically talented, though on several occasions they had carried very impressive toys from all over the map on the lines of the Gatling pistol Captain Redneck had pulled on me. Laura even reported being threatened by an inexpertly used Hand of Fatima, which brought a smile to my face - apparently Olson had not been lying when he told me he had one.

No-one else had had a run-in with the two gigantic Africans who had held me down in the warehouse Sunday night. This could mean that I had damaged more than their wrists, or that other people didn't rate that star treatment. I had my theories as to why.

Finally everyone had had their turn, and with typical werewolf directness Virgil phrased the question on everyone's minds. "What is going to be done about this?"

"I have obtained the aid of an agent with references from the Tribunal among other former employers," Arthur said smoothly. "I believe some of you already know Madame Sands. Individual arrangements to consider each side of the affair will be made momentarily - Magister Alcibiades, if I may ask for a word?"

I bristled, but could see the reasoning behind naming Sands as the lead investigator. I don't exactly have a good press outside Arthur's circle, especially after what Anton and I did to Virgil. And since I don't tout my references around, I hadn't had the chance to dazzle people with my prior experience.

As Arthur disappeared into a side room with Alcibiades, the rest of the crowd homed in on Kirill and Eudokia as the people most likely to know about what was going on. I excused myself and slipped through the crowd, looking for a space to think in.

Darkspring Manor's late eighteenth century portions are my favorite rooms, with high ceilings and French windows that open on inner courtyards. I slipped out to stand in a narrow space that barely fit a single old rowan tree, the leaves autumn-gold and the berries like drops of blood in the moonlight. I was sure the solution to the puzzle was close - if I could only clear my mind and seize it.

Then the door on the other side of the miniature courtyard opened. "Is the big do over yet?" a boy's voice asked.

I whirled around and got my hands up before I could consider that Darkspring was probably the third safest place in the city, after Kirill's house and the office. Paranoia is bad for little Rachel, too much like things best kept in dark places and never taken out.

I forced myself to calm down, pushing the snake back to sleep. "Not yet, but I don't think it'll take more than an hour, tops."

"Cool." The boy padded over to where I stood under the tree. He might have been eight, ten at most, with tousled black hair in need of a haircut and skin as pale as mine. And Daffy Duck pajamas of all things.

"I'm Rachel," I offered.

"Are you one of the ginger-guy's people? Only Mommy said not to talk to them, because they'd eat me. And if they didn't, you can never tell what the fuckin' leeches are thinking, and you can wind up a creek without a paddle."

I grinned at the description of Arthur, who did have reddish hair. "Nah, I just work for one. And they're not all that bad."

The boy looked at me with big black eyes. He looked as if he would be quite the lady-killer in ten years or so. "What's not bad about eating people?"

"You'll see when you're older." No way was I going to explain the birds and the bees and blood play kinks to a tiny elfling like that.

"You mean sex stuff?"

Heh. "Aren't you a precocious little thing."

He bit at his lip. "That means annoying, doesn't it?"

"Not always." I ruffled his hair. "But you might want to watch it. I think it's cute, but other people might not share the sentiment. I wouldn't want anything to happen to your pretty face."

"I always watch it," he protested. "And people who don't like me are easy."

"Easy?"

"To set up." He grinned impishly. "Don't tell Mommy I said that? Only she says I'm too little to play games with people."

Lady and Light, the boy was precious. "You might be. I always say you shouldn't get into play until you know you can eviscerate everyone if things go wrong."

"What's eviscerate mean?"

"To remove someone's entrails. If you want to make extra sure he stays dead, you can use them to strangle him." I smiled at my memories. Good times.

He blinked, and I wondered if I wasn't being too gory. Then his mouth opened in an awed smile. "Cool! Teach me?"

A white silhouette appeared in the courtyard door. "Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, what did I tell you about bothering strange people?"

"But Mommy!" The boy pouted. "Rachel's cool, and she's going to teach me to eviscerate people and choke them with their own entrails!"

"Not without your leave, of course." I nodded at Genevieve. "I take it this is yours?"

"Yes." She walked in, crowding the little courtyard completely, and took stock of her son. Now that I thought of it, there was a family resemblance. "Sheldon, you should be in bed."

"How am I going to learn to manipulate people if you never let me meet any interesting ones?" he demanded.

Genevieve and I shared a rather sappy look. Sheldon was the most precious kid I'd ever seen.

"See, you've met a mage and she didn't curse you to be a tree-spirit forever." She kissed his forehead. "Now run along and get into bed. I'll come check after the council, so you'd better stay in it!"

He sighed. "Bye, Mommy. Bye, Rachel."

I took out a strip of parchment - just a regular distraction spell I always have on me - and whispered an incantation. I directed the stream of light to settle around little Sheldon's head, making him look like a fallen cherub. "Sweet dreams."

He giggled and scampered. Genevieve watched him run off with a smile on her face. "You know, there's just one time I'm glad I had a crappy gynecologist. I should put flowers on his grave someday."

"Cute enough to eat, and I don't mean that in a vampire way," I agreed.

"Speaking of vampires..." She leaned against the tree close enough that our arms touched. She was wearing J'Adore perfume, not really suiting the J.Lo look. "You and the big Russian vamp. What's the story?"

I shrugged. "He pays me for doing magic. We're friends. We occasionally sleep together."

"Occasionally?"

I closed my eyes, reached for the snake's bite and put it in my voice. "What's your point?"

"Whether you're close enough for you to bring the place down if things come to worst."

My nails were cut short, but they still left furrows in the tree bark. "The Tribunal of Magic has some lessons to learn as far as data security goes. I don't do that shit anymore."

"Even if your - boss - is threatened?"

She didn't have time to blink before I seized her throat. She made a little breathless sound of distress, and her pupils widened.

You're one sick kitty, I thought.

"That depends on who's threatening." I let go of her and fought the urge to wipe my hand. Ms Sands was far too close to some characters from my past. I shook my head. "I don't know. I want to head this off at the pass so it doesn't come to it."

"But?" She was smiling now, back in California ditz mode.

"I'm not blind. It's an organized attack to disarm all three major spheres of New Granada society-" Good point, I thought. I'd have to see whether any elves, trolls, dryads and other magical rarities noticed anything out of the ordinary. "Someone's planning a takeover, and once we find that guy, we're done. I assume you're the Tribunal emissary?"

"Not officially," Genevieve said. "I'm really just doing a favor for Salome. But they are going to send someone once the word gets out. You think it should?"

"Get them to look in the files and find out which known felons currently at large have a history of research into binding or otherwise controlling werewolves and vampires as well as connections to Central Africa."

"Wasn't there some guy in Katanga in the sixties?"

"He's not at large." I chuckled and reached out to put a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Count on it. Now, let's get back to our gracious host before he starts checking the empty bedrooms."

"You're known for that?" She looked interested in the possibility.

"Once, but Arthur's never let me live it down." I grinned. "Then the girl met a werewolf and that was all she wrote. They're getting married in the spring."

"Sounds like The Bold And The Beautiful or something."

"Soap operas have nothing on vamps," I told her with conviction as I waved her through the door back into the house.

The coeducational part of the council seemed to be winding down - everyone was back in their own cliques, evidently talking over the events. Arthur's butler motioned Genevieve into the office, and as the door opened I saw that Arthur's current interviewee was Virgil. The two of them were even smiling, which meant that either there'd be bloodshed in ten minutes, or they finally settled their differences over that card game in West Berlin thirty years ago. I'd heard the story five times from different sources, but the consensus seemed to be that two cheaters don't always cancel each other out.

I didn't see Kirill, so I drifted over to the refreshments table instead and grabbed some pastries to tide me over until the council wound up and I got something more substantial. Sometimes vampires' reduced dietary requirements were really a pain.

I carried my loot to a curtained niche, but it turned out to be occupied. Still, Alcibiades made room for me and didn't try to steal my food, so I decided not to change my plans.

"I do hope you'll see the light one day, dear girl." And of course, he said it at the precise moment I was swallowing a bite.

Once I finished coughing, I was too worn out to glare. "I can't imagine what you mean."

"These are hard times." He looked at me with a regular twinkle in his eye. As far as condescending hermetic mages go, Joanne K. Rowling has a lot to answer for. "All hands are needed. I have been corresponding with Magister Theramenes, who speaks of your studies at Finisterra in stellar terms."

I wondered if the old goat had been as free with descriptions of the incident that got him hung upside down from the bell tower, and me kicked out of Academia Finisterra. "Are the Elders of Alhambra that easily scared, then?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Let me put this straight. You want a bodyguard? Get another sucker. Even if you had the money, I won't change jobs."

"You're working for a vampire," he hissed, dropping the good-natured wizard act. "A killer who sucks people's blood to survive!"

I saw him blanch when people's heads turned towards us. Alcibiades had forgotten about vampire hearing.

I smiled. "Don't knock if you haven't tried it," I said quietly.

I sashayed towards Kirill, who had come in a few minutes before. He obligingly pulled me close and kissed the side of my neck when I offered it. I half-closed my eyes in pleasure, but through my eyelashes I saw Alcibiades' face go green, so I had to snicker.

"What was that about?" Kirill murmured.

"Defending your virtue," I said. "How much longer is this going to take?"

"Not too much." He found a sofa for us to sit on, and then attracted the attention of a passing waiter. The wine was white and sweet, full of Balkan sunshine, and went perfectly with another pastry I acquired from the same waiter. "If you're bored, just imagine what Anton's going through."

"Poor Antosha," I snickered. "All alone with the big bad IRS stooge. And us with the perfect excuse not to be there."

"Exactly." We shared a conspiratorial smile.

"Mind if we sit here?" Shadow appeared right next to us, holding up his swaying girl-toy. "Rayyven's not feeling well."

The sofa was big enough to sit the four of us comfortably, not that I didn't take the opportunity to lean into Kirill. "Get her something to eat," I suggested.

Raven - excuse me, Rayyven - made an inarticulate noise of protest. "I have to watch my figure," she whimpered. "I eat sweets, I just blow up like a balloon..."

The waiters had somehow disappeared, possibly showing some of the guests out, so Kirill went to the buffet himself. Did I mention the chivalry thing is annoying at times?

"Rachel, about those guys who got Justin-" Shadow hesitated. "You'll find them out, won't you?"

Now wasn't this a night for surprises. Justin had been one of Shadow's baby-Goth herd before he got a job at one of Eudokia's clubs, but I'd never have pegged Shadow as being attached to the boy.

I eyed him over the top of my glass as I took a sip of wine to buy myself a moment to think. Shadow was wearing the full drag, as befit the occasion - black-on-black embroidered velvet, torn tulle, lace and leather and studs, about a million yen from the sort of Japanese fringe designer who could give crossdressing lessons to the Chevalier D'Eon. His face had never been particularly striking, though an inch-thick layer of artful make-up did a lot to help that fact. He was of age with Anton, though his life had been spent in Paris rather than Petersburg, and he had written bad poetry instead of plotting a tyrant's demise. Now he parlayed that skill into listenable Goth music that got him groupies and cash, and moonlighted as Arthur's PR consultant when it came to the edgier side of media manipulation. About the only good thing I could say about him was that unlike ninety percent of modern male vampires of the impressionable sort, he hadn't named himself Damien.

Now I found myself faced with the task of reassuring him.

"When I do, I'm going to cut out their entrails and choke them."

His smile was almost as wide as little Sheldon's had been. "Thanks."

Kirill came back with the food, and Shadow finally had to daze his lap-ornament into eating it. Gradually other vampires drifted over. Marianne pulled up a chair, Karim launched into an improbable story from his days of trading with the djinni, and even Julian engaged me in civil conversation about the differences between blue-clay and red-clay golems as we waited for the mages and werewolves to take a hint and get going.

Finally the last of them disappeared from view, and Arthur joined our group. He had removed his neck-cloth and the top buttons of his frock coat were undone, a clear sign that we could all relax and get down to business. Waiters went around again, distributing goblets filled with things more substantial than wine - I actually saw Rayyven make a face when she realized that while the vampires got blood, the humans got hot chocolate. Then she tried it and shut up, probably feeling that the endorphins were going to do her good.

"So what's the score?" Angelica asked.

"Genevieve coordinates the investigation." Apparently Arthur only saved 'Madame Sands' for public occasions. I wondered what Salome would have to say about it. "Jake Lowell will look into the mage side. Virgil decided to handle the wolf side himself. For our part, Rachel, if you will?"

I quickly licked my lips, making sure there weren't any stray chocolate smears. "I'm planning to start with places where people were accosted - I'll do a look-see through the entertainment district, and Eudokia, Shadow, I'd appreciate any help you can give me there. Charlie's figured in many accounts, so I'll look into it, though I doubt Charlie's personally involved. Meanwhile let's keep safe. I advise a lock-down, no unnecessary leaving lairs until we're sure the danger's passed. No-one going off alone, etcetera."

"I second that recommendation," Arthur said. "Anyone else?"

There were nods all around. I was glad to see that the vamps trusted me, at least.

The talk turned to other matters then, from hunting quotas to Ron's request to try and Change someone - an alchemist allergic to the red tincture, it seemed, who wanted another attempt at achieving immortality. Since magical skills are a prize to any vampire coterie, the request was granted readily, though all it meant was that the alchemist now stood a fifty-percent chance of Changing as opposed to just dying in terrible pain. I tuned it all out in favor of low-key mock-flirting with Genevieve, who looked just as bored. Kirill was amused by this, but he did keep a possessive arm around me, possibly because he knew my standards for straying with women were lower than for straying with men, and I was almost happy.

Just before the council wound down completely and disbanded, a lackey brought Arthur a note, and our fearless leader got up, signaling us all to stay put. He came back a few moments later with a pretty ash-blonde in tow.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Natalie Morritz. She is writing a thesis on Nightfolk commerce in Academia Finisterra, and has chosen our fair city as her model. She comes with splendid recommendations, and I would like you all to render her all the assistance you can." He motioned at everyone in turn. "Mademoiselle Morritz, meet Eudokia Bysantinska, the owner of several clubs in the city, Marianne Di, a major shareholder of New Granada First Financial..."

Natalie looked nice enough - Slavic cheekbones and a face right out of a medieval painting. She murmured her greetings demurely, and all but curtsied to each introduced person in turn. She'd done her homework about the dress as well, since she was wearing a cream-colored robe that revealed just enough not to be considered prudish in vampire society while the high collar highlighted the sleekness of her ash-blonde hair.

Then it was Kirill's turn to be introduced, and as he made the appropriate responses, I noticed his voice sounded deeper than moments before. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and recognized the signs. His eyes shone like slivers of obsidian. He seemed taller, more imposing, and he was devoting his full attention to the young apprentice-mage. I knew those signs.

Kirill Yevgenyevich had fallen in love, and this wasn't the time for it.