the table. She kept her lip from curling. How anyone could drink the two mixed was beyond her.
Grigor lifted his glass, half full of the rosy-pink concoction. “Svetla, shut the doors.” He tilted the glass slightly toward the seat beside him. “Then come sit.”
No chairs were available beside the one Grigor had reserved for his chew toy. Tatiana remained standing as Svetla did what she was told.
Once the other woman was seated, Grigor spoke to Tatiana. “Tell us what happened.”
“Lord Ivan is dead.” Tatiana reached into the pocket of her varcolai leather coat, curled her gloved fingers around the broken bits, and tossed what was left of him across the table. The shards of stone skipped over the wood; the largest—a bit of eye and forehead—came to rest in front of Syler, Dominus of the House of Bathory.
She’d once considered him a tentative ally. Now with Ivan gone, she wasn’t so sure. The security of that connection had to be determined.
The other Dominus looked on with curiosity. Timotheius, Dominus of the House of Paole, gasped, always the dramatic. “How did this happen?”
“Yes, I would love to hear that explanation. I’m sure you expect us to believe you had nothing to do with this?” Zephrim asked. He ruled the House of St. Germain fast and loose, letting just about anything go unchecked as long as it was in the name of alchemy.
“I didn’t. Not in the slightest.” Tatiana’s rage curled around her with comforting warmth. Behind secure mental barriers, she imagined turning her metal hand into a sword and skewering Lord Zephrim in the manner Vlad Tepes most often favored—through the groin and out the throat. The thought caused an inappropriate smile to crease her lips. She covered it quickly by drawing a hand across her mouth before speaking. “The comarré whore is now in league with a powerful coven of witches. Lord Ivan and I went after her. She and her compatriots ambushed us. The anathema, Malkolm Bourreau, was with her.” Several of the lords glanced at one another. “Not only is he alive and well, but he has also become her lover.”
“Poppycock. He’s been ashes for years. The report is in the council archives.” Zephrim refilled his goblet with blood.
“I can prove it.” She glanced at Grigor. Perfect. His family power of mind reading was just what she needed to corroborate her story. She opened her thoughts to him as she spoke, careful to show him only the parts of her memories that held Malkolm hoisting Ivan into the witch’s circle and Ivan being turned to stone. The part where she’d smashed his statue into rubble she kept hidden. “There. I’ve shown my thoughts to Lord Grigor.”
The other lords turned to him. Grigor pursed his mouth. “I never knew Bourreau myself. I cannot be sure this is the one of whom she speaks.” He stroked his narrow beard. “It does seem another vampire was responsible for Ivan’s death in conjunction with the witches.”
She smiled sweetly. “Thank you. I assure you, the vampire you saw was indeed Bourreau.” Blighty old ratbag.
“What is it that you desire, Tatiana? Your petition stated you had a request to make,” Syler asked. Something about his expression gave her hope. Perhaps the alliance still stood.
She paused, as though needing a moment to gather her thoughts. “This crime against the House of Tepes was perpetrated by the rabble that calls the Southern Union home. Anathema, witches, varcolai, remnants, and fae.” She threw up her hands in disgust. “New Florida is a ghetto of othernatural undesirables, and while it’s well and good that they should be contained in such a single, vile location, Lord Ivan’s death must be avenged, the anathema Bourreau must be put down once and for all, and the comarré whore must at last be brought to justice.” She paced a bit for dramatic effect, stopping to give the appearance of an idea suddenly coming to her. “I am sure I could take care of these things. I know New Florida. I have connections in place. I just need the right resources to make my attempt successful.”
“What kind of resources?” Syler asked.
She fixed her face into the most neutral expression she could muster. “Unlimited access to Nothos, to family funds, the ability to command an army of fringe—”
Timotheius interrupted. “The kind of resources a Dominus has.”
“What? Well, yes, I guess they are rather similar—”
“You want the council to appoint you the new Dominus of Tepes in Ivan’s place. Is that it?” Hints of silver