Undead and Unwelcome

Chapter 34

We were back in the ballroom, except it had been set up almost like a courtroom. A long table was at the front of the room, and hundreds of chairs were scattered about.

Because we weren’t sure just what everyone’s problem with BabyJon was, I had prevailed upon Jessica to watch him for me during the whole Council thing.

She’d protested—boy, had she protested, my ears were still ringing—but finally agreed. Good thing, too, because after last night I didn’t trust anyone out here to watch him, except maybe for Sara. And I didn’t like asking favors from someone I’d just met.

I had dressed up for the occasion, as Sinclair had, in a knee-​length black dress with a simple strand of pearls my mom had given me for my sweet sixteen. Manolo pumps in deep purple—they went with almost everything, especially black—completed the picture of a sophisticated vampire queen (ha!).

“Perhaps we should discuss a plan in case things do not go our way this evening,” Sinclair murmured, his hand on the small of my back as we walked in.

“Run like hell?” I suggested, and he grinned, whip-​quick, there and gone almost before I could register the expression.

Michael came forward to greet us, Jeannie right beside him as usual. “Hello, Betsy. Hello, Eric. Thank you for coming.”

Sure, pal. Like we had a choice.

“I’ll introduce you to the Council, and they’ll ask you some questions about what happened the night Antonia was killed.”

“As you like,” Sinclair said politely.

“Good luck,” a familiar voice said, and I turned and saw Sara, who looked ready to pop at any second. Extremely pregnant women make me nervous; it’s like hanging around a ticking time bomb. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Where’s the baby?”

I started to answer, when Michael said, “What baby?”

Seriously? He’d forgotten about BabyJon again? Okay, that was enough. Once this Council thing was taken care of, I was getting to the bottom of this. It was just too effing weird.

“Never mind,” I said hurriedly before Sinclair, who looked decidedly bemused, could answer. “Can we just get going with this, please?”

“Of course.” Michael gestured to two chairs, then turned on his heel and headed toward the front of the room. Derik materialized out of the crowd, said nothing to either of us, then grabbed Sara’s hand and away they went.

I felt bad for him, to tell the truth. Grief was completely fucking him up—he was nothing like the easygoing blond fellow I had met earlier.

Worse, I knew that kind of grief was at least half guilt. He’d never forgive himself for not being there to save her. For not making her feel wanted here, so she wouldn’t have moved away.

“All right, everyone. Attention, please.” Michael didn’t need a microphone; his voice carried perfectly, and the murmuring died down at once. “We’re assembled here this evening to discuss the death of Antonia Wolfton, who left our territory on a quest to the Midwest and never returned.”

Well, hell. Anything sounded bad when you put it that way.

“Giving testimony tonight are Eric Sinclair and Elizabeth Taylor.” I mentally groaned when he said my full name, and tried to ignore the snickers from the crowd. I cursed my mother under my breath for the zillionth time.

“They govern the vampire nation,” Michael continued, “and have agreed to appear before the Council.”

One by one, Michael introduced the Council members to us. I was a little surprised that they were all women—except for Michael. Maybe werewolves had a more, what d’you call it—matriarchal society?

Anyway, they ranged from middle-​aged to elderly, all shapes and sizes. They took their seats at the big table up front, and the Q&A began.