Carrie Vaughn - Kitty Steals the Show

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.

“You may convince me yet,” Antony answered.

“That’s not what you were talking about,” I said. “In fact, I’m betting you were talking about Mercedes Cook and who’s thrown in with Roman.”

Antony made a pointed sigh. “Right. Mercedes and that bastard Jan are here because they want to move against you, Ned. They’ll put one of Dux Bellorum’s puppets in your place.”

“Jan?” I said. “The smarmy guy with the goatee?”

Ned’s lips twitched. “Yes. And I’ve seen no evidence of their intentions. Mercedes would only act if the situation were unstable, and it’s not.”

“She’ll act precisely because you are so comfortable. With London in her pocket, her hold—Dux Bellorum’s hold—on Europe would be unbreakable.”

Ned shook his head. “I’m not a lynchpin.”

“Talbot approached me,” Emma said, her clear voice a contrast to the others. They turned, startled by the interruption. “He suggested I start spying on you, Ned.”

“Talbot, who is that?” Antony said.

“Talbot is one of Jan’s,” Marid said.

Antony’s expression darkened. “It’s a very short step from asking her to spy on you to using her to remove you.”

Ned steepled his hands and gazed at the air, distracted. “They targeted you because you’re new. A stranger to them.”

“They didn’t understand that they weren’t asking me to betray you, but Alette,” Emma said.

“You’re Alette’s, then?” Antony said. “I don’t think anyone knows that. The old girl’s still got her hand in it. Good.”

Emma turned away, her smile thin, pained.

Ned said, “It’s their usual mistake—discounting you Yankees entirely. To think, they all believed Alette mad for moving her household. But the lack of competition overseas made her—and her followers—powerful. I’m curious—what did he offer you?”

“The usual. Second-in-command of London. I’m not old enough to want that kind of power. They’d give it to me, then destroy me with it.”

“I’m very glad Alette sent you to me, Emma love.” He caught her hand and kissed it lightly.

“She wanted me to learn,” Emma said, sounding young and tired. “I’m not sure she had any idea I’d get caught up in all this.”

By way of interruption I said, “I had my own encounter last night. Werewolves saying they served the Master of Venice delivered a message telling me to stay out of things, for my own good.”

“They even sounded worried about us,” Ben added.

Ned nodded thoughtfully. “Worried that you wouldn’t be safe, or worried that you’re powerful enough to cause trouble?”

“Who knows,” Ben said.

“Filipo hasn’t said a word all week,” Antony said. “What side does this put him on? And why talk to her?”

“Maybe he’s a fan,” I said, shrugging. “The whole thing makes me more curious, not less.”

“You certainly are something of a wild card,” Ned said.

I crossed my arms. “You really think Mercedes will try to replace you as Master of London?”

He shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I’ll be on alert, certainly. But this is about more than London.”

“It’s the public question, Kitty,” Marid said. “So much has been revealed. How much, then, do we continue to hide? Is hiding even the right response anymore?”

“Exactly,” Antony said, pointing. “We bring the fight to the public, then no one can hide.”

“You’re in my territory now,” I said, quirking a grin. “I can tell you all about publicity.”

“Do you advocate it?” Marid asked.

“Jury’s still out,” I said.

Antony said, “Right now the most visible public vampire is Mercedes Cook. She’s beautiful, amiable, charming, has given dozens of interviews—and she’s a follower of Dux Bellorum. We have to counter that, get one of our own in the public eye.”

“You have someone in mind to be your first public vampire?” I said. “’Cause you know, I could help out with that. It’s not too late to get in on this week’s show.”

They all looked at Ned, who rolled his eyes.

“It’s perfect,” Antony argued. “Cook was already famous before she declared herself. It endeared her to the public. Ned can do even better than that—he was famous four hundred years ago! She’s an actress, you’re an actor—who better?”

“I will have Shakespeare, Marlowe, and John Donne scholars camped on my doorstep for the rest of eternity. Do you have any idea what I’d go through?” Ned said. He leaned conspiratorially toward me. “I married Donne’s daughter, did you know that?” I hadn’t.

To get a scoop like that, to be the one to help Ned Alleyn go public as a vampire … my talk show personality was absolutely drooling. But the rest of me knew it wasn’t that simple.

“It only works if people believe you’re really Ned Alleyn,” I said. “Can you prove it? Link the person you are now with who you were then?”

“That won’t be the issue,” Ned said. “Mercedes Cook has endeared herself to the public because they don’t have to believe that she’s four hundred years old, or older. She rose to fame in current living memory. She says she’s a vampire and it makes her a novelty, but it doesn’t make her threatening. Try to tell that same public that an Elizabethan actor is still alive—it’s not merely fantastical to the average person, it’s frightening. I’m willing to listen to the argument that more of us need to become public figures. I’m not willing to agree that that person ought to be me. There are better choices.”

“You’re being stubborn, Ned,” Antony said.

“I’m also right,” he answered.

“I think I agree,” I said. “It would be like a grave opening up and the occupant climbing out. Too creepy.”

“Kitty’s made a career of public relations,” Ned said. “We would do well to listen to her.”

“You’re a coward, Edward Alleyn,” Antony said.

“I’m also over four hundred years old. There’s a correlation. Besides, I don’t see how that matters. It’s not as if Mercedes is rallying the masses to the cause of our enemy.”

“Not yet,” Antony said. “But if she already has the majority of us on her side, there’ll be damned little to oppose that when the time comes.”