Silence buzzed down the line. Cassandra appeared at my shoulder to say that the plane was boarding. I motioned that I’d be right there.
“I have to go,” I said to Lucas.
“I heard. About working together, I was always under the impression—that is to say—” He paused. “You need to run, but I’d like to discuss this later. And don’t forget to call me when you get to New Orleans.”
“I won’t.”
Cassandra had said little since we’d left Aaron. Again, she bought me a first-class ticket. I knew Cassandra had money, lots of it, and I doubted she ever flew coach, but it was still a nice gesture. She also offered me her in-flight meal, which I refused, though I did accept her package of cocktail nuts. By the time I finished dinner, she was on her second wine, which told me something was wrong. I’d never seen Cassandra drink more than half a glass at a sitting.
When the flight attendant came by with dessert, I looked at the gelatinous square they called lemon meringue pie, and opted for a tea instead. Cassandra motioned to her wineglass for a refill.
“How long have you been attending council meetings, Paige?” Cassandra asked as the attendant left. “Five, six years?”
“Almost twelve.”
“Twelve years, then.” She fingered the stem of her glass. “You’ve always had a good memory, so perhaps you’ll remember better than I can. When’s the last time we investigated a vampire concern?”
“In ’98. Dallas, Texas. We had a report of a killer draining his victims’ blood. Turned out it was a human killer, though, so I suppose that doesn’t really count as a vampire concern.” I paused. “Let’s see, before that it would have been ’96. A vacationing Russian vampire was raising a ruckus—”
“Yes, yes, I remember that. I meant when did I last bring a concern before the council?”
“Like what Aaron was talking about? A situation that’s worrying vampires in general?”
“Exactly.”
I took my tea from the attendant and pulled out the bag. “You’ve never done that.”
“Oh, come now, Paige. Of course I have.” She leaned back in her seat. “Never mind. You were only a child, and you were always goofing off with Adam—”
“Hey, I never goofed off in a meeting. Don’t you remember all those times Robert gave Adam shit for not paying attention like I did? Drove Adam crazy. Then he’d take it out on me afterward, teasing me about brown-nosing—” I stopped, noticing Cassandra’s attention had wandered to her wineglass. “Point is, I paid attention. I took notes. Quiz me if you like. Dates, places, I can name them. In twelve years, you’ve never brought a vampire concern to the council.”
“That didn’t strike you as odd?”
I shrugged. “Numbers-wise, vampires are rare, and you’re all pretty self-sufficient, so I figured you didn’t have concerns. It never bothered anyone else, so it didn’t bother me. Lawrence didn’t bring up concerns when he was your codelegate.”
“That’s because Lawrence was so old, he didn’t care about anyone but himself.” She fluttered her hands over her table. “Took off to Europe and never even bothered to tell us he wasn’t coming back. I may be self-centered, but I’d never do that.”
I sipped my tea.
Cassandra looked at me sharply. “Well, I wouldn’t.”
“Okay. Sure. Now about this bar, the Rampart—”
“I must have brought a concern to the council in the past twelve years. What about the Gulf War draft? Several vampires had taken on the identity of American citizens and they were worried about being called for the draft—”
“There was no draft for the Gulf War. That must have been Vietnam.”
She frowned. “When was Vietnam?”
“Before I was born.”
Cassandra snatched up her napkin and folded it precisely. “Well, there’s been something since then. I only remember that one because it was historically significant.”
“Probably.”
By the time we reached New Orleans, it wasn’t yet eleven, still too early for bar-hopping. As I phoned Elena for my nightly check on Savannah, Cassandra directed the taxi to the Empire Hotel, her local favorite. After we checked in, I called Lucas, letting him know I’d arrived safely, then showered and got ready.
When we went downstairs, Cassandra had the doorman hail us a cab.
“This bar,” I said. “The Rampart. Aaron has a problem with it?”
Cassandra sighed. “That’s just Aaron. For a man who looks like he doesn’t spend much time thinking, Aaron spends far too much time at it. Thinking and worrying. He can be the worst mother hen you can imagine.”