Autumn's Bane - Yasmine Galenorn Page 0,73

feel to them when they weren’t used very often.

The floor was a black and white checkerboard, and the walls were a pale gray with black trim. In a totally non sequitur way, it reminded me of a retro diner. But instead of booths and a kitchen and the smell of food, the conference room was set out like a living room, with a black leather sofa, chrome and glass tables, several wing chairs matching the couch, and a desk to one side, with a rolling office chair behind it. The desk was neat, with a laptop on it, what looked like an appointment book, and a landline telephone. For a moment I was surprised, but then I realized—we were several floors below the surface. Cell phones might not get such great reception here.

A man sat in one of the wingback chairs, his knee casually draped over his other leg. He was wearing a designer suit—I couldn’t tell what label, but there was no mistaking the quality of the material. He was sturdy, though not husky in any sense of the word. Athletic would be more appropriate. And his coppery-colored hair was shoulder length, pulled back in a neat ponytail. With a chiseled jaw and eyes that were almost turquoise, he was a striking man. The two guards moved to flank his sides as he motioned for us to sit on the sofa.

“Lord Herne, you honor me with your visit. I am Dormant Reins, regent of the Vampire Nation, the Pacific Northwest Division.” He glanced at Yutani, nodded, then his eyes slid over me and passed on without acknowledgment. Part of me bristled, but given the immense sense of power behind the stare, I was almost grateful to be ignored.

“May I introduce my fiancée, who is also an agent with the Wild Hunt, Ember Kearney.” Herne seemed determined that Dormant give me some sign of recognition.

Dormant shifted just slightly enough to signal to me that he really didn’t want to respond, but he inclined his head. “Ms. Kearney.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I stuck with the familiar, “How do you do?”

Herne slid in immediately, saving me from trying to make small talk with the vamp. “And this is Yutani, another one of my agents.”

“Yutani, welcome to my world.” Dormant motioned to one of his guards. “Drinks.” He turned to us. “What will you have? My bar is stocked with just about anything you could hope to order.”

Herne answered for all of us. “Café mochas would be good. We’re on duty, so we’ll forgo the alcohol.”

Dormant snapped his fingers and the guard immediately disappeared through the door. My guess was he was headed across the corridor to the club that Eldris was waiting in.

“So, what might I do for you?”

Herne cleared his throat. “I assume you are the local liaison with the United Coalition?”

Dormant shook his head. “My right-hand man is. Elliot Cordova. Why do you ask?”

“Did he fill you in on the situation with Typhon?” Herne went straight to the point, which made me breathe easier. I really didn’t feel like hanging around here any longer than we had to.

“Yes, I know about the Father of Dragons.” Dormant’s eyes narrowed. “What of him?”

“We are trying to create a united militia. The dead are rising, and not in the way of your people. I know this might be a delicate subject, but—” Herne paused as the guard returned, carrying a tray with three to-go iced mochas, and one glass that looked like it might be bourbon or scotch. He held the tray out to me first and I took one of the mochas, murmuring a thank-you. Herne and Yutani followed suit, and then Dormant accepted the glass.

He raised his glass. “Here’s to dispensing with pleasantries. Be blunt, Lord of the Hunt. It’s better to state the facts than tiptoe around them and risk miscommunication.”

Herne saluted him with the glass. “Thank you. All right, someone has been raising the dead in the form of vrykos, and we also know that there have been incidents with skeletal walkers, ghouls, and an inordinate amount of ghost sightings. I don’t know if we’ve seen zombies yet, but they’re sure to come. Typhon is waiting in the astral, sending in his emissaries. Did you hear about the incidents with Pandora?”

Dormant sipped his drink, then contemplated his glass for a moment before speaking. “Yes, actually. I have my finger on the pulse of most of what goes on in this city. I heard about that, I

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