The vampire put his hands on both of them and looked at me, beseeching. As if I could better protect them from this horror show. I almost could think they were beloved pets and not prisoners. If not for the horrid chains.
“I’m not going to fight anybody,” I said, and the vampire slumped, relieved.
“I think you will,” Mercedes said, thinning her smile and waving fingers at the very burly man behind her—a werewolf, one of the bodyguard types in a suit, who started loosening his tie.
They really expected us to strip down, Change, and go at it right here. Ben had tensed, his fingers curling into a shadow of claws. My own jaw was stiff—I’d been baring my teeth unconsciously.
Ned waited, as always, watching to see what I would do. Maybe if it really did turn into a fight, he’d step in to stop it. Emma was looking scared. I wasn’t going to leave it to either of them to decide.
“You people really need to get over yourselves,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I’m not fighting anyone. I’m not your monkey, I’m not putting on a show for you, I don’t really care how old any of you are, and we’re leaving.”
Turning around, I marched out, past Emma, up that long aisle, past all those empty seats. Ben was right with me—in fact, he reached out to open the door and gestured me through, making the move seem suave and planned. It must have looked great from the outside. I walked through the doorway without breaking stride; he followed, and gave the door a nice little slam behind him.
I went another twenty feet into the lobby before I collected myself enough to stop, covering my face with my hands and groaning. “God almighty you’ve got to be kidding me. It’s like they’ve been playing orgy in Rome for the last thousand years.”
Ben was grinning. “That was awesome. The looks on their faces.”
“How long do you think until they burst through the doors and drag us back in there to teach us a lesson?” I said, thinking not just of the couple of dozen vampires, but the lycanthropes and anyone who happened to have a gun with silver bullets. Anyone whose sensibilities we’d damaged.
He regarded the door. “You know? I don’t think they’re coming.” Head cocked, listening, he waited another moment. “They’re talking.”
When the blood stopped rushing in my ears and I managed to calm my breathing, I could hear the voices, muted but angry. People were talking fast, speaking over each other, accusing, pleading, soothing.
Ben added, “I think they’re arguing with each other to figure out who belongs to Roman and who doesn’t.”
“The ones who called for the fight, Mercedes and the guy with the goatee. They wanted a distraction.”
“They’re Roman’s,” Ben said. “They don’t want anyone to know.”
We’d pretty much known about Mercedes already, but even the faintest scrap of information about her or any of the others made the whole confrontation worthwhile.
We stepped aside just as the door swung open and Emma came through, harried, lips pursed and upset.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry, I know that was awful, it was…” She put her hand on her forehead and looked downright human. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any influence here or I’d have tried to do … I don’t know. Something.”
“Just tell me the blood donors were volunteers. That it was consensual,” I said.
She didn’t answer, and I rolled my eyes. I wondered where the nearest Underground station was and if the trains were still running so we could get back to Mayfair without getting a ride from Ned and Emma. I wanted to move out of the town house and check into a hotel. I wanted to get out of here.
The door opened again, and the stout, careworn vampire came through. He carried a polished, carved cane, surely an affectation. A vampire wouldn’t need a cane. He was short, which surprised me—he’d given the impression of filling more space.
Emma made room for him, stepping aside and bowing her head deferentially. Ben and I stood side by side, braced, waiting. The man studied us as we studied him.
“You’ve broken up the party,” he said finally. “They’re all leaving through the stage door.”
“Can’t say I’m at all sorry,” I said. “I was having a terrible time.”
He curled the tiniest smile. “The party wasn’t for you. Ned invited you because the others wanted to have a look at you. None of them really believed your reputation could be at all deserved.”
“What reputation? The one where I’m an antiestablishment loudmouth, or the one where I can’t seem to keep out of trouble?”
“Yes,” he said, and I sagged. “It’s a very great pleasure to meet you, Ms. Norville. It’s been a long time since I’ve encountered a Regina Luporum.”
“A what?”
“Queen of the wolves,” Ben said.
“I’m not the queen of anything,” I muttered.