He also had an accent of some sort, but I couldn't place it.
"Yes," said Warren shortly.
The vampire opened the door and swept us a short bow.
The room we entered was huge for a house--more a small gymnasium than a room.
There were stands of seats--bleachers really, on either side of the long side of the room.
Bleachers filled with silent watchers.
I hadn't realized that there were so many vampires in the whole of the Tri-Cities, then I saw that a lot of the people were human--the sheep, I thought, like me.
And in the very center of the room was the huge oak chair festooned with carvings and accented with dull brass.
I couldn't see them, but I knew the brass thorns on the arms of the chair were sharp and dark with old blood ...
some of it was mine.
That chair was one of the treasures of the seethe, vampire magic and old magic combined.
The vampires used it to determine the truth of whatever poor being had the brass thorns stuck in its hands.
It's gruesomely appropriate that a lot of vampire magic has to do with blood.
The presence of the chair raised my suspicions that this wasn't to be a negotiation for peace between the vampires and the werewolves.
The last time I'd seen that chair, it had been at a trial.
It made me nervous, and I wished I knew exactly what the words were that had been used to invite us here.
It was easy to pick out the werewolves--they were standing in front of two rows of empty seats: Adam, Samuel, Darryl and his mate, Aurielle, Mary Jo, Paul, and Alec.
I wondered which ones Marsilia had specified and which were Adam's choice.
Darryl was the first to notice us because the door was almost as silent as the crowd of vampires.
His eyes swept over me from head to toe and for a moment he looked appalled.
Then he glanced around the crowd--all the vampires and their menageries were dressed up in their finest, be that ball gown or double-breasted suit.
I thought I saw at least one Union army jacket.
He looked at my T-shirt, then relaxed and gave me a subtle smile.
It seemed he decided it was okay I hadn't dressed up to meet the enemy.
Adam had been talking rather intently with Samuel (about the upcoming football game, I later found out--we don't discuss important matters in front of the bad guys) but looked at his second, then looked up as we walked over to him.
"Mercy," he said, his voice ringing in the room as if it were empty.
"Thank goodness.
Maybe now we can get some business done." "Maybe," Marsilia said.
She was right behind us.
I knew she hadn't been there a moment ago because Warren jumped when I did.