us wouldn’t be enough—and that I’d put my friends in harm’s way.
Their magic slunk forward like fog, glamour intended to soften, to soothe. And to lure me into submission, I assumed. It wasn’t subtle, which made it easy to counter. I used my own glamour as a shield, wrapped around me like a cloak. I schooled my features into bland and arrogant dismissal, and the fog dissipated. They’d made their first move, and I wasn’t impressed.
I recognized the three vamps who’d come to my door, but not the man who led them, who’d positioned himself at the front of a tidy triangle. (Seriously—did they practice formations?) This must be Clive—the Bureau’s head. He was thickly built, more like a defensive tackle than a katana-swinging vampire, despite the black and gold scabbard gleaming at his waist. His skin was pale, his hair short, dark, and tidy, and he had high, round cheekbones and deep-set eyes. He was older than me in vampire terms, at least fifty or sixty, judging by the weight of his magic, but his face looked considerably younger. He’d been in his twenties when he’d been turned, I guessed.
Time to play my part, I thought, and lifted my chin, hands at my sides. A hand on my katana would have comforted, but it also threatened—and signaled I was worried, on the defensive.
“Clive,” I said, getting in the first word. “I’m Elisa Sullivan. I have, at your request, agreed to meet you to discuss the AAM’s concerns about my saving Carlie’s life.” I gestured to the X on my clavicle. “As I have arrived as promised, please remove this.”
He didn’t appear to appreciate my opening demand, however politely phrased, and looked at a vampire behind him, nodded. The vampire entered something into a small screen. After a moment, I felt a bright pinch and the mark disappeared.
I inclined my head. “Thank you.”
Clive looked perturbed by my taking the lead, then glanced at Connor and the others. “I’m not sure why you felt it necessary to bring Pack with you. I see no need to involve them in vampire affairs.”
“I see a need,” Connor said. “The incident happened in Pack territory, and Elisa saved a friend of the Pack.”
“Given you’ve brought twenty vampires,” I said, “you can hardly complain about the five of us.”
“Your tone does you no credit.” Temper crossed his face then, hot and sharp. He wasn’t just enforcing rules; he was actively angry at me. Because of Carlie?
“Being accused of vampiric treason tends to make me irritable. Now, please get to the point. What do you want?”
Clive gritted his teeth, but maintained his control. “Elisa Sullivan. You are accused of making a vampire without the authority to do so, either by permission or position. You had no legal right to so act.”
“She was going to die.”
“Not relevant. There are rules for a reason, and you violated those rules. You threaten all of us by your recklessness.”
“She was going to die,” I repeated.
“Then she would have been one of many humans. All mortals die; it is their nature. Is her life worth all of ours?”
I narrowed my gaze. “Has your life been threatened in any way because Carlie is alive? Because I saved her? And do you show up at the home of every Rogue vampire who makes a new one without your permission?”
Rogues were vampires who were unHoused, who eschewed Houses but had banded together under a common name and leader. Carlie lived with a coven of vampires in Minnesota who were technically Rogues; they’d affiliated with one another. That defeated the point of being “Rogue,” to my mind, but to each his own. Whatever the reason, the rules were different.
“Rogues are rarely strong enough to make vampires, and rarely do so. Regardless, the AAM has no information suggesting you’ve deemed yourself a Rogue vampire, or affiliated with Chicago’s Rogues. Have you done so?”
“No,” I said after a moment.
“And you’ve refused to commit even to your parents’ House. Interesting.”
How did the AAM know I didn’t consider myself a member of Cadogan House? Had my parents told Nicole? Didn’t matter, I told myself. I could deal with that later, talk to my parents. Right now, I had to stay focused, because his anger kept growing, pushing hot and prickling magic toward us.
“And what,” Clive continued, “of the next human you change? Or the next human changed—successfully or not—by someone else who believed it was allowed?”
For this first time, it occurred to me that maybe this wasn’t just about