Kitty Steals the Show

Chapter 4

WE SPENT the night at Fortune House, in rooms that would have outdone the most spectacular five-star hotel: antique furniture, silk sheets, attentive room service bringing eggs and toast and fresh-squeezed juice for breakfast, and views of a quiet suburb out the window. In the morning, a horde of teenage boys decked in blue jerseys flooded one of the pristine grassy lawns outside the school to play soccer. Football, rather. It was a scene from a movie.

We got more of Ned’s story. He’d founded Dulwich College, at least its earliest incarnation as a charity hospital, back in his previous life, at the start of the seventeenth century. He’d had no children of his own so he funneled his fortune into various charities. He’d been watching over them ever since. I still didn’t know how a man who’d lived a full life, been famous and successful, became a vampire at the age of sixty. I’d looked up the official date of his death. There was some debate about the exact day—with a three day difference, which suddenly made sense, if you knew about the vampirism. An infected person lay effectively dead for three days before rising again. I wondered if Ned had been attacked and turned against his will, and I wondered if he’d ever tell me how it had happened.

Emma and Ned had made plans to send us on ahead to Ned’s Mayfair town house, where he stayed when he wanted to be in London proper. It was near the conference, and we’d have a day to get settled, sleep off more of the jet lag, and take a look around before the conference started. Andy the driver took us north in the sleek black cab, and I got my first look of Britain in daylight.

The city was a mix of ancient, modern, and everything in between. Nineteenth-century brick row houses mingled with 1960’s concrete office blocks, then suddenly the gray stone spire of an old church would rise in the distance, past supermarkets and subdivisions. Springtime made everything green—green lawns in parks, a bright green fuzz on trees, carpets of daffodils blooming on roundabouts. I had to quell an instinctive panic from being on the wrong side of the road.

London proper was a big city, with countless traffic-filled streets, tall buildings occupying entire blocks, and the sense that I had seen all this before in a movie. I imagined people felt the same thing when they visited New York City or Los Angeles.

Ben nudged me. “Kitty, look.” He pointed out the window to an iconic red double-decker bus. I started to “ooh” in admiration, when I realized he was actually pointing to the ad on the side of the bus: MERCEDES COOK IN CONCERT, THIS WEEK ONLY! The vampire’s gorgeous, smiling picture showed her in a spectacular black sequined gown, arms flung out to take in the audience she was singing to.

Oh, just great. Just horrible.

If I was the world’s first celebrity werewolf, Mercedes Cook was its first celebrity vampire. She’d been a star on Broadway since the sixties, and people had started to notice that she was looking remarkably well-preserved for her age. She hadn’t graduated to crazy mother and grandmother roles like most of the actresses of her generation. Turned out she was well preserved because she was undead. A vampire. She broke the story on The Midnight Hour, and I’d thought we were friends. Right up until she plotted to get my friend Rick killed, to prevent him from taking over as Master of Denver. She failed, he took over, and sent Mercedes packing.

So, at some point this week I was probably going to have to face the vampire who tried to take over Denver, probably on behalf of my archnemesis.

“That’s so not cool,” I stated.

“Ned called a truce, right?” Ben said. “What can she do?”

“I hesitate to even imagine,” I said.

“What you’re saying is I ought to keep a couple of stakes handy,” Cormac said.

“You mean you don’t anyway?” I said.

He shrugged. “There’s handy, then there’s handy.”

We rounded a corner and passed a stretch of sloping lawn lined with trees that were brilliant with new foliage. Andy identified it as Hyde Park. Wolf perked up her ears at the wide open space in the middle of the city—would it be useful in a pinch? I didn’t particularly want to find out. But as urban pastoral spaces went, the place was gorgeous.

I’d asked Ned and Emma about the local werewolves, and he’d said he’d be sure to introduce me to the alpha at the earliest opportunity. When, I’d whined, and he’d promised it’d be soon. Would the alpha be at the conference? At the vampire convocation? If I’d had the time, I’d have gone looking for werewolves myself. I’d heard that London was a good city for lycanthropes: tolerant, serving as it had as a crossroads for the world since the days of the British Empire, Indian were-tigers rubbing elbows with were-lions from Africa, and so on. I wanted to see it for myself.

There’d be time.

The neighborhood where Ned’s place was located looked like it had traveled through time: blocks full of stately façades, rows of windows, decorated molding, wrought-iron accents, elegant in the midday light. I flashed on any number of Jane Austen films or Sherlock Holmes reruns on PBS. There should have been fancy horse-drawn carriages clopping past.

The car turned onto an impossibly narrow lane packed with town houses, and through a gateway into a small, cobbled yard with a lovely, reaching tree in the corner. The building overlooking the yard was four stories of pale brick. The windows had white frames and stone balconies to lean on, and the roof was made of sloped gray slate.

Andy let us in through the front door. The interior was as much a time capsule as the neighborhood. A vestibule let out into a parlor with brocade wallpaper, age-darkened paintings decorating the walls, a carved mahogany mantelpiece over a marble fireplace, and so on.

“He did say make ourselves at home, right?” Ben said. “I feel like I’m going to break something.”

“It does feel a little like a museum, doesn’t it?” I said.

Cormac gave a shrug and slumped into a velvet-upholstered wingback chair, sprawling out and propping his booted feet on what must have been an extraordinarily valuable lacquered circular coffee table. “It’s a little much,” he said.

I had to admit, the right kind of vampire hospitality was impressive.

We were directed to bedrooms upstairs. There were six, and we got to pick. I pounced on the one in the corner, with a view down the street which gave me the feeling of falling back through time. I could imagine the horse-drawn carriages, the women in huge bell skirts and men in frock coats, walking on the cobbled streets, the glow of gaslights and smoke curling from clay chimneys.

We battled jet lag by taking a walk. Found Hyde Park, then Green Park, and explored all the way to Buckingham Palace, which seemed even more excessive with all its gilt, statuary, and unflinching guards. Thinking of someone living there was a little like thinking of someone being a billionaire. I had no frame of reference.

“What do you think of Ned?” Ben asked us both.

“He’s a vampire,” Cormac said. “Talks a lot. Who knows what he really wants.”

“I’m still getting over him knowing Shakespeare,” I said, sighing.

“Don’t get too starry-eyed,” Cormac warned.

“I know,” I said. “I don’t know what to think. Alette trusts him or she wouldn’t have put me in touch with him. He seems to be taking good care of Emma.”

“They’re all vampires,” Cormac said. Which meant that we ought to be careful about trusting any of them, including Emma.

“We don’t have to stay at Ned’s place,” I said. “It’s not too late to find a hotel.”

We walked several steps before Ben said, “It’ll be fine. This way we can keep an eye on him, right?”

Cormac made a noise that was almost a laugh.

AFTER A good night’s sleep, Ben and I went downstairs in the morning to find breakfast—and Cormac—waiting in the dining room. We learned that Ned and Emma had arrived before sunrise, after we’d gone to bed, and that we would see them this evening.

Eggs, tea, toast, slices of thick bacon, stewed tomatoes, and beans—which had never even occurred to me to eat for breakfast—waited on expensive-looking china, dense with a blue floral pattern around the edges. One of the staff stood by and seemed pleased at my gaping reaction. Cormac was cleaning up the last bit of egg yolk with a piece of toast.

“Don’t wait for us or anything,” Ben said.

“You’re not going to need me the next couple of days, are you?”

“Why?” I said.

“It’s Amelia,” he said. “She wants to check some things out.”

“What, like her old haunts? No pun intended.”

“Her older brother had kids. Assuming they had kids … she may still have family.”

“That’s so weird,” I said absently. He was talking about kids who were born over a hundred years ago—tracking a family tree for real. “What happens if you do find these great-grandnieces or nephews?”

“Cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said, spreading butter on a second slice of toast, not looking at us.

“You okay with this?” Ben said. “Is she making you do this?”

“I want to do this. Why do you follow Kitty around on her crazy expeditions?”

“Hey,” I said, and Ben snorted a chuckle. I considered what Ben’s answer to that question might be, and what that said about Cormac’s answer. I didn’t know why I was worried—he could take care of himself. Rather than dig, I said, “You’re sure we’ll be okay without you standing guard?”

“Keep your eyes open. Don’t do anything stupid,” he said. “If you need me, call.”

I looked at Ben for backup, but he just shrugged. Cormac left on his mysterious errand.

Ben and I walked to the conference hotel, which was only a mile and a half away. The housekeeper, manager, whatever she was at Ned’s Mayfair house offered to loan us the use of a car and chauffer, but I declined. I wanted to get a sense of the place. An idea of where the escape routes were.

We were still a block away from the hotel when I heard what sounded like a lot of people shouting, more people than should have been at what was billed as a scientific conference. A rumbling of conversation was punctuated with shouting. Someone hollered through a bullhorn.

Then we saw the signs. People held up poster board on sticks, others strung banners between them.

GOD HATES VAMPIRES!

WOULD YOU TRUST YOUR CHILD WITH THIS? Along with a picture of a snarling rabid wolf.

NO NEW WORLD ORDER!

and

V.L.A.D.: VAMPIRE LEAGUE AGAINST DISCRIMINATION.

EQUAL RIGHTS FOR ALL!

NO MORE BURNING TIMES!

A police barricade separated what turned out to be two different crowds, whose members were screaming at each other. Two sides of the debate, hurling slogans. For the moment, it was just slogans, but the anger simmered. At opposite poles of the debate, they were never going to convince the other of their stance. News crews, vans, and cameras were on hand to cover the chaos. It seemed a perfect display of entropy.

“I suppose it would have been too much to ask, hoping these guys wouldn’t show up,” I said, nodding to a sloppily written sign, red paint on yellow poster board, reading REPENT, WEREWOLVES! If only I could.

“Is there a back door to this place?” Ben asked, searching.

“Don’t want to run the gauntlet?” I joked.

“I just don’t want to see what happens when one of the holy righteous over there recognizes you.”

Well, that was enough to freeze my spine. If this much mayhem was happening the first day, it seemed inevitable that the protests would devolve into riots at some point. I didn’t want to be the one to start said riots.

Turning the corner, we went down the block and found an unlocked side door that led into the convention area of the hotel. We weren’t the only ones who’d come this way to avoid the chaos outside. Others arrived in pairs and small groups; official-looking people in suits carried briefcases; others dressed in business casual, talking with hand gestures and lights in their eyes. They carried with them an air of anticipation that buoyed my own. I couldn’t wait to start talking to people. Breathing deep, I caught the scent of werewolves, plus other brands of lycanthrope I didn’t recognize. I studied the people around me, but couldn’t sort out what scent went with whom.

The hallway wound around to the main lobby, where the noise from the protestors carried through the glass doors. Barricades kept them from blocking the entrance entirely.

Check-in tables stood in the back of the lobby, and people were lining up before them and talking to the half-dozen young-looking volunteers planted there. Grad students, wanna bet?

“Kitty?” a male voice behind me said. I turned to look. “Kitty? It is you!” He was about my height, athletic, with handsome Latin features. He had a smell of feline about him—lycanthrope. That big sexy smile of his hadn’t changed at all.

“Luis!”

I opened my arms for a hug, but he came right up to me, trapping my face with one hand, planting the other hand on my hip to lock me against him, and he kissed me, long and leisurely, on my lips. My hands clenched on his shoulders, but it happened so fast I didn’t have a chance to push him away. He’d pounced on me like the cat he was. My knees went weak and my body flushed before my brain could respond.

“No,” I said, peeling myself away from him. Bracing my arms, I kept a space between us. “I cannot do this.”

Ben stood at my shoulder, staring a challenge at Luis. “So. You two know each other,” he said, deadpan.

Luis stared right back, and I tried to interpose myself between them. Ben got in my way.

This probably looked terrible on the outside. “Um. Luis. This is my husband, Ben.”

Luis looked him up and down and pursed his lips, skeptical. “Husband, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to cool the blush in my cheeks by force of will. It wasn’t working.

“But you’re not wearing a ring,” he said, taking hold of my left hand, bringing it to his chest, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles.

“I keep it on a chain,” I said, peeling out of his grip again. “Rings tend to get lost during shape-shifting.”

“Ah,” Luis said with a sigh. “Well, congratulations, I suppose. You’re a very lucky man.” He winked at Ben, who managed to stay bland.

“I think so. Most of the time,” he said, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. Oh, I was never going to live this down.

“And you’re happy?” Luis said, in a tone that indicated he didn’t think I possibly could be.

“I am,” I said. “And you?” Deflection was always a good strategy.

He shrugged dramatically. “At the moment, I’m suffering a terrible disappointment.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to project annoyance. I was still blushing. Ben was still glaring.

“So … what brings you to the conference?” I asked.

“I’m here with my sister, representing Brazil.”

That put me on firmer territory. “That’s great. I hope I get to meet her. Is she around?”

“I think she’s outside heckling the opposition. She’s as much an activist as ever.” He glanced at the front doors to the protests outside, then noticed my frown and lined brow. “You think this is going to turn serious?”

I shook away the concerned expression. “I don’t know. I hope not. If it does, it’s been coming for a long time.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” he said. “These days, you can’t have an international anything without someone protesting it. It’ll blow over.” His smile was probably meant to be blasé and comforting.

“Yeah,” I said, unconvinced.

“As happy as I am to have run into you, I’m on my way to a meeting with some of the other delegates.” He touched my arm and looked deep into my eyes, totally ignoring Ben.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” I said, waving a little.

“I very much look forward to that,” he said, running his gaze up and down my body before turning to saunter to the hallway and meeting rooms.

Oh, dear …

“Okay,” Ben said. He was still glaring, at me this time. “You want to explain that?”

Um, yeah … “You remember the Senate hearings in D.C.? You remember a couple of mornings when I showed up looking sleep-deprived and pleased with myself?” This had happened before Ben and I were married, before we’d hooked up. Before he’d been infected with lycanthropy, even. I had nothing to be guilty about.

“Yeah, I think I do,” he said.

I pointed the direction Luis had gone. “That was him.”

“Oh. I see. He smelled weird—what is he?”

“Jaguar.”

“Really? You’ve seen him? His jaguar, I mean.”

“Yup.”

“Sexy jaguar?”

“If you like that sort of thing,” I said.

“I think I want to kill him,” Ben said.

I furrowed my brow at him. “That’s your wolf talking.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“You can’t kill Luis. Your wolf can’t kill Luis.”

“Oh, I think we could. But we won’t. At least not right now.” His smile was a tad feral.

“Ben—”

“I’m just saying,” he said.

This was going to be a long week.