Chapter Thirty-Eight

The Lady of the House

A cold chill clawed its way down my spine as we walked into the assembly room, and I instantly went on high-alert. The room itself was vaguely circular, like a conference hall, but bigger. Gold and glass from the rest of the House had crept in here too. Large golden candelabras gave the place a fairyland feel as their flickering flames reflected into forever in the wall-sized mirrors ringing the room.

Solid wooden tables, and the House members sitting at them, filled the room except for an open space in the middle where a short line was gathered before a figure in a large chair. Through the press of people I couldn’t tell much more than that. Most of those sitting at the tables held wine glasses filled with what I’m sure was blood. A few glasses held a pale yellow liquid, probably for humans.

Fitch snagged our attention with a discreet wave of his arm, but Ira shook his head and led us to the line instead. As we rounded the tables, moving more in-line with the fancy chair, the reason for my sudden splash of dread became clear.

The vampire receiving the line was old. Very, scarily old. In fact, she might have been the oldest vampire I’d ever seen. Her presence made my teeth ache at the unsympathetic press of centuries she gave off. Hunters trained to recognize the biological signals vampires made humans feel, and every warning bell in my head was going crazy. The woman on the chair was a killer, I would stake my life on it. Hopefully that wager wouldn’t prove prophetic.

Despite that, she was beautiful. With her perfectly sculpted face and long Victorian nose she could have been the perfect picture of a fairy-tale princess. If she hadn’t been bald. Statuesque beauty and immaculately smooth head were only the first of her contradictions. Her blouse was a more masculine cut, but made out of a pretty, shimmering material in a nice cream color. The black suit coat and pants that matched it were a similar mix of solid, masculine lines and dainty, feminine fabric.

Then I noticed the two dark haired men laying on cushions just to the side of her feet, sprawled on each other like nothing so much as lounging puppies. Their slim and muscled bodies were naked save that one wore a blue thong, one wore a red one, and both were spotting thick black collars. A chain, a leash, hung from their necks to a small rod sticking up from the arm of her chair. They didn’t seem to pay the others in the room the slightest attention, yawning and shifting on the pillows as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

Ira caught me staring at them and gave me a warning look. Getting the message, I forced myself to look away. And then we were at the front of the line, and her voiced poured over us—a husky, liquid sugar.

“Ah, young Mr. Greer.” She smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“Lady Sybele,” Ira said respectfully. “I would like to introduce, and ask for the recognition of, my Beloved, Regan St. James.”

I stifled a sigh. Jesus, Ira, don’t hold back, or anything. The whole room went silent at the last syllable of my name, but I dutifully bowed my head and turned my wrist bite-mark-up.

“Well, what an interesting pair you are,” she purred. “A hunter in the house, and a Beloved, no less.”

Cautiously, I raised my head, wanting to gauge for myself her reaction. Her large almond eyes were inscrutable as she studied us.

“I know it seems odd, Lady,” Ira said. “But Regan and I met last weekend, before we knew who the other was. There was some awkwardness, of course, but we’ve decided to give it a shot.”

“Have you?” she drawled. “And how do I know this isn’t some elaborate ploy on the hunter’s part? His people may have sent him to us as a spy.”

“Lady Sybele,” I said very carefully. “My people have no idea that I’m even here. I was sent into town because I had some stuff to do for school, and was staying with civilian contacts in the area. I met Ira completely by chance at a bar.”

“I see,” she said. “And ‘giving it a shot’ includes meeting the family, does it not?”

“With all respect, Lady,” Ira cut in, “we will cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Ira, I’ve no dislike of you, but let’s be sensible about this,” Sybele said. “If I recognize this pairing, I could be putting the entire House in jeopardy.”

“I mean you no harm,” I said. “I am not out to get the members of this House.”

Well, not all of them.

“He wears my mark, Lady,” Ira pointed out.

I offered up my wrist, and she beckoned me closer. With one surprisingly gentle hand, she traced the outline of Ira’s teeth on my skin. I sucked in a breath at the tingle the soft pressure caused. Apparently satisfied that it was real, she pulled back.

“Be that as it may,” she began, “I’m not convinced that’s enough. Giving you both the benefit of the doubt, maybe you mean what you say. But the hunter’s lifestyle is a demanding thing, and it is more than just the hunting of our kind. There are psychological factors at work that neither of you have fully taken into consideration. Regan may well mean what he says about bringing us no harm, but there may be a part of himself that simply cannot help it.”

“I’m not a raging psycho,” I protested. “I kill when I intend to kill. Yes, I have trained my mind to be the best vampire killer it can be, but it is still my mind.” An idea was forming, and I finished with, “I’d have to mean to kill you.”

She laughed, a sound as exacting and polished as the rest of her. “Dear human boy, you couldn’t kill me if you tried.”

I arched a brow, and gave her my best shit-eating grin. “Are you sure of that, Lady?”

“Regan—” Ira said darkly, but I plowed over him.

“Do you worry that if I was secretly out for your head that you could not beat one ‘dear human boy?’ Is that the reason for your hesitation?”

Ira’s hand was heavy on my shoulder as I finished, and I could have heard a fucking feather hit the floor. Sybele sat on her massive chair not saying anything, and my heart began to tick a little faster. Had I overestimated?

But then a slow smile broke her impassive face. “You have gumption, Regan St. James. I must give you that.”

Almost faster than the eye could track, she reached under her jacket, pulled out a large knife, and hurled it through the air toward me. Fortunately I’d had plenty of time to read her body language, and I stepped to the side, wrapping my hands around the handle as it sailed towards me.

I flipped it over in my fingers, offering her the blade. “I think you dropped this, Lady.”

“Lady Sybele, I really must protest—” Ira began furiously, but she waved a hand.

“And what, exactly are you protesting?” she asked wryly. “You brought your would-be Beloved before me to judge his worth as a member of this House, now let him prove it. Unless you would rather withdraw your intent, of course.”

He shook his head jerkily. “Of course not. I have faith in Regan’s skill.”

Her smile warmed. “Then clear the floor, Elder Greer. And I will test your human’s skill.”