“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.