“What did I tell you?” Luis said, leaning close to his sister. “Never a dull moment.”
“Hmm, I can’t wait for your keynote speech,” she said—purring, almost. “What are you going to talk about?”
I closed my eyes and rested a hand on my forehead, a gesture of suffering. “Oppression,” I said dramatically.
Dinner was good. Nice, mellow, out with friends, no pressure. Ben may even have stopped glaring at Luis for a few minutes. Naturally, the respite couldn’t last.
We’d finished eating and had moved on to coffee and more conversation when activity at the front door caught Luis’s attention. He stared, frowning.
“What is it?” I asked, glancing over to see.
“Friends of yours?” he said.
Three men, smelling distinctly of lycanthrope, had just entered and surveyed the restaurant. They were tough guys, in leather jackets, designer jeans, and boots. Two had beards, and all were broad through the shoulders. Moving like fighters, they were shoulder to shoulder, attention out—stalking, like predators. The one in front spoke to the maître d’, who nodded toward our table. He shook his head in response, and the trio moved to the bar, where they perched warily, uncomfortably.
“Werewolves?” Cormac said.
“Yeah,” Ben answered.
“Problem?” the bounty hunter answered.
They were here looking for me, obviously. But this wasn’t the place to start trouble. So far they were just watching.
“Let’s wait and see,” I answered.
We tried to pretend that the strangers weren’t obviously here to keep a watch on us.
Esperanza said, “When you first got here, those two girls at the bar—they were watching you, too.”
“No, that was just a coincidence,” I said, because I couldn’t cope with much more paranoia.
“Right,” Ben said. “Didn’t mean a thing, they were just fairies.”
Luis chuckled. “Really? Like leprechauns and pixies?”
“Not exactly,” I said, waving him off. “But yeah, sort of.”
His smile broadened. “Makes you wonder what else is hanging around the conference.”
I sighed. “Djinn, wizards, gods, goddesses.”
Esperanza leaned forward. “Did you say gods?”
My mouth opened to start an explanation, then closed again. Where did I start?
We paid our bill, collected our things, and went toward the door. When the trio of werewolves at the bar moved to intercept us in the restaurant’s vestibule, I wasn’t surprised. I caught the leader’s gaze and held it. His companions flanked him just as Ben and Cormac flanked me. Luis and Esperanza stood aside, wary.
“Kitty Norville,” he said. His accent was rolling, quick. French or Italian, maybe. His frown twitched, nervous.
“Yes?”
“I serve the Master of Venice. He sends a message—a warning.” I stepped forward, offended, ready to argue; he stepped back and looked away, a submissive move. A peace offering. He wasn’t here to fight. “A friendly warning. You do not know what you’re meddling with. You do not know the true situation among the vampires of Europe and you’d be better to stay away. Your enemies are powerful.”
Wasn’t anything I didn’t already know. The trick to facing off with another wolf pack was to stand your ground, not flinch, not let your gaze slip for even a moment. He was probably six feet tall, leaving me quite a bit shorter than him. I tried not to show it. “A message like that is a sure way to keep me interested. Like waving a red flag at a bull.”
“Please, that is not my Master’s intention—”
The front door opened again, letting in a cool breath of night air and a fresh wave of werewolf scent. Caleb and one of his wolves, a shorter man with close-shaven hair and a surly expression, entered, and frowned past me to the other wolves.