Carrie Vaughn - Kitty Steals the Show

The applause was polite at best. The faces looking back at me showed confusion in pursed lips and furrowed brows, and even smirks. Derisive frowns. Some heads shook in what seemed to be disgust. Half the crowd was already out of their seats and filing out of the auditorium, and the conversation grew loud.

That was all okay. I wasn’t here to make friends or win any popularity contests. I delivered my warning. I’d accomplished my goal. And now I wanted to go home. I strode back to the edge of the auditorium, and to Ben, who was right where he said he’d be.

Riddy was waiting there as well. She was one of the confused ones; her smile had turned stiff. Still, she offered her hand to shake, which I did, and thanked me. “I must admit, Ms. Norville, it wasn’t quite what I was expecting.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling,” I said, apologetic.

“But it’s an excellent message. That was meant to be the whole purpose of the conference—fostering communication. I do hope that’s what people take away from all this.”

I had to smile at her optimism. “I’m very glad I could be a part of it all.”

She thanked me again and excused herself, leaving Ben and me together, watching the auditorium empty out. Part of my hesitation came from not knowing how he would react to my rant. I hadn’t consulted him, and maybe I should have. He might have talked me out of it—and that was probably why I hadn’t talked to him first. But after all this, if he was angry at me, too, I wasn’t sure I could bear it.

His smile was crooked, but it was there. His gaze was steady, and his hands were in his pockets, casual. He seemed amused. I just stood there.

“I love you,” he said.

It all came down to that, and I was happy.

“Really?” I said. He opened his arms and gathered me close. We stood like that, holding each other, for what seemed a long time.

Reporters found me in the lobby. I knew there’d be questions. I’d be answering questions for a long time. If I gave them a few sound bites, maybe they’d leave me alone.

“When you say war, do you mean that literally? Or is it some kind of culture war?” Of course that was the word the press would latch onto. The guy was an American with press credentials from one of the big science magazines.

“Um, yes?” I said. “Both? I can handle a culture war. But I’m pretty sure this is bigger than that.”

“But you don’t know?”

“I know there’s something out there, and it’s not pretty.”

The guy sounded frustrated. “If you don’t know what’s going on why make a big stink about it? You trying to start a panic?”

“It wouldn’t do any good to keep it to myself,” I said.

“But you have to admit the possibility that you may be deluded,” said another reporter, this one British.

Yes. I supposed I did.

“I think we’re done here,” Ben said, and shouldered his way between them and me, guiding me to the side hallway. A few of them followed, still calling out questions, until Ben threw a glare over his shoulder. I wished I could have seen it, because it stopped them.

We reached the shelter of the relatively quiet hallway, where Shumacher and Tyler were waiting.

I winced. “I suppose you saw the speech.”

Shumacher’s lips pressed into a thin, anxious line. “I’d say you were scare mongering if not for what happened to Sergeant Tyler yesterday. Flemming’s vanished again.”

“Yes,” I said flatly.

Tyler had recovered admirably. His gaze was steady, determined, and his body was a wall, standing firm. A well-muscled, intimidating wall. “If you need me, for anything at all, call me.”

And he would come running. I could count on him. “Thank you.”

“You’ve rescued me twice now. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me,” I said, shaking my head. “We help each other, that’s what friends do.”

“I owe you.”

“Don’t argue,” Ben said near my ear. Right.

“You guys off tomorrow?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’ll be really nice to get back home.” His sigh was heartfelt.

I smiled. “Say hi to Susan for me.”

He ducked his gaze, but not before I caught the gleam in his eyes.

AFTER DARK, we returned to the house in Mayfair, where Cormac was waiting for us. In any other context, we’d all have a lovely farewell dinner with our hosts. In this case, however, we’d made sure to eat before the gathering.

Marid stood at the front gate, and we lingered. The old vampire leaned on his cane, gazing upward, as if he could see stars.

“When are you heading back home?” I asked, drawing his attention from the sky. “Where is home, by the way?”

He shrugged. “I’m like Mercedes, I don’t have a city of my own. I’m a Master by dint of age, nothing more,” he said. “I’m thinking of moving on, anyway. It’s time to wander a bit.”

“Oh?”

He narrowed his gaze. “Perhaps look for Roman while I’m at it.”

“Ah.” I nodded thoughtfully.

“You did it,” he said, strolling along the narrow courtyard without needing the cane. “I told Ned you would. He wasn’t sure. He said you’d be too worried about protecting your loved ones. He was sure you’d play it safe in the end, rather than expose us all. I told him you’re a crusader. I was right.”

Ben and I faced him, our arms touching. There was only one of him, and we were strong.

“People need to know,” I said. “That’s all. Roman can’t work in secret if everyone knows.”

“But have you warned everyone about the coming war—or dragged them into it when they might have been safe?”

“They wouldn’t have been safe,” I said. “Not in the long run.”

“How like a vampire, to speak of the long run.”

“I can’t tell—are you happy about what I said, or not? Is Ned?”

“Oh, Ned and Antony both approve. They like you very much. They like the idea of a Regina Luporum. They cheered when they watched the video of your speech.”

“Regina Luporum—I still don’t even know what that means,” I said.

He chuckled. “It’s not anything official, it doesn’t come with a crown or any real power or territory. It’s more … an idea. Rex Luporum, Regina Luporum. That there exist wolves who will stand up to vampires, that will choose solidarity over warfare. Do you know the story of Romulus and Remus?”

“The founders of Rome who were raised by … a wolf…” I stared.

“Many of the old stories are simply metaphors.”

“You’re saying that a werewolf helped found Rome? And that she had children ?” That spark of hope hadn’t quite died out, apparently.

“Werewolves can’t have children, Kitty,” he said. “It’s a metaphor. ”

“So Regina Luporum is a label you made up. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means whatever you want it to.”

He didn’t show any sign of retreating back inside, so I stayed with him. “Did you know her? The wolf of the Rome story?”

“Yes,” he said.

I waited for another long pause. “And…?”

“She’d have liked you, I think.”

“And…?” He didn’t offer anything else. I sighed. “So what about you—did you like the speech?”

“Honestly, Kitty, one way or another it doesn’t matter. Whatever happens, happens. I know how to go to cover if I need to.”

You didn’t get to be twenty-eight hundred years old by joining crusades, I supposed. “Then we won’t be able to depend on you when the time comes?”

“Perhaps when the time comes, I’ll call on you, ” he said, smiling a sphinx’s smile. “Shall we go in?”

Ned and Emma had arranged a pleasant gathering in the parlor, and I again flashed on those BBC costume dramas. Emma and I ought to be wearing empire-waist gowns, the men should have had cravats. Ned was the only one wearing a cravat tonight. The three of us who lived and breathed had tea and a decadent selection of pastries. The vampires watched us indulgently.