“Marid, have you eaten tonight? Would you like a bit?” Ned said, nudging the unconscious werewolf with a booted toe. “Antony?”
“I think you’re still in need of a boost, wouldn’t you say?” Antony answered.
“I daresay there’s enough for all of us to share.”
Antony actually rubbed his hands together.
“That’s it,” I muttered. “I’m out of here.”
“I’m sure we could all share,” Ned said. “The four of us will only take his blood, after all.”
He was only being polite. I glanced at Ben, whose face had gone scrunched up, bemused. It was what happened when your stomach turned and your mouth watered at the same time.
“I don’t … eat people,” I said.
“Not at all?” Antony said. “Ever?”
I paused, wincing. Bringing up the issue ignited the memory of a taste on the back of my tongue, flesh and blood, the iron warmth of it squishing between sharp teeth, gulping down my throat. It wasn’t even my memory, it was Wolf’s. I hardly remembered it, except that the sensory detail had never gone away. “Just that one time.”
Ned gave me an inquiring look. “You? Really?”
“The other one was just a nibble…” I really did have to stop and think about how many people I’d taken a chunk out of. I put a hand on my forehead. The night had gotten very long indeed.
“I’m not sure I know about the other one,” Ben said, looking at me with … curiosity? Admiration?
“It was that guy in Montana,” I said.
“Ah.”
“Ms. Norville, you are constantly intriguing,” Marid said, leaning on his cane. Even Caleb regarded me appraisingly.
“I really think it’s time for us to go. You guys have fun.” I grabbed Ben’s hand and pulled him from the parlor.
Emma put a hand on my arm in the doorway. “Thanks. For sticking up for me.”
I shook my head. “They were just grasping at straws. I don’t think they were serious.”
“Ned would have killed me himself if he thought I’d turned spy.” She gave a nervous hiccup of a laugh. “I didn’t want to be a vampire. I thought I’d rather be dead. I can’t tell you how many times I almost opened the curtains at dawn to kill myself. But now, it’s almost funny. I don’t want to die.”
“Good,” I said. I touched her hand, surprised as I always was at how cold she was—she had no heat, no blood of her own.
“It should be night in D.C. by now,” she said. “Do you think I should call Alette? Tell her what’s happening?”
“I think that’s a good idea,” I said. “Let me know what she says.”
She stayed behind to take part in Ned’s leftovers. I didn’t want to see it.
Back in the hallway, Caleb waited for us. When footsteps sounded in the back foyer, we all jumped, then stalked forward. I had a sickening vision—that Jan and Mercedes had anticipated us, sent their own attack first—
We met Cormac coming in through the back door, smelling of the city’s chill nighttime air. He studied us with curiosity. His shoulders tensed—all the surprise he showed.
“There’s been a fight,” he said.
Was it that obvious? Caleb must have changed his clothes on the way over—he was clean. Ben had on a new clean shirt, but rusted streaks of dried blood still marred his face. Most of the blood was mine. My shirt and jeans were torn, soiled with mud and grass stains. I was cradling my injured arm, which sported an impressive red welt where the wound had been. Cormac would know it had happened recently.
“You two okay?” His voice was calm, and he eyed Caleb with suspicion.
“Yeah,” I said, and Ben nodded. “I just got a little cut up.”