vamps lived in Europe for . . . maybe forever. I signed with a flourish. Grégoire was going to love being Warlord. And I had managed to avoid having to go to war in Europe. Go, me!
I signed a couple dozen siggies and handed the papers to Eli. Feeling much better about things, I sat back against the barstool and opened the nail polish.
“Can I paint them?” Angie asked from behind me.
“Ummm.” I had a mental image of my nails after my goddaughter painted them. It wouldn’t be any worse than my own job. “Sure. Why not?”
Angie Baby climbed onto the barstool near me and took the bottle of polish. EJ clambered up on the weapon-free bar top and crawled over to watch, lying with his belly on the cold stone, seemingly without discomfort. Angie patted the seat between her legs and I carefully placed my oversized paw-foot on the barstool and wiggled my toe pads. She giggled and pulled the brush from the bottle, the acetone stench ruining the leftover steak scent. She caught her tongue between her teeth and began painting my nails, her brush strokes slow and smooth. The scarlet was the perfect color.
“It’s pretty,” she said. When I didn’t respond, she asked, softer, “I can’t feel my Edmund in my head anymore. Is he gonna be okay, Ant Jane? Am I gonna have my knight back?”
Edmund had sworn fealty to Angie and her entire family, to be their protector, and somehow the two had formed an unexpected mental bond. In the same way that he had been ripped from me, he had been ripped from Angie, and then he had, in the manner of vamps, locked his mental shields down so we didn’t suffer while he suffered. But I had no way of knowing if the mental bond could or would be restored and had no way to explain all this to Angie.
“Yes,” I said, sounding utterly positive, “Edmund is going to be okay. And he will always be your knight, whether we feel him in our heads or not.”
She nodded, her strawberry blonde curls sliding forward as she painted the hard-to-reach little claw. “I miss him,” she whispered.
And I was right. It took most of the bottle.
* * *
* * *
It was long after sundown, a light snow again falling, when Alex shouted that he had a text claiming visitors were arriving. On the way to the front door I glanced at the screen, spotting a gaggle of snowmobiles pulling into the long drive. In half-form, I walked to the door, turned on the welcoming lights, and stepped outside. The roar of the snowmobiles blasted the silence from the property as the first two vehicles accelerated, dashing up the long driveway, creating ruts in the blanket of snow. Lincoln Shaddock’s people were here.
The first two vehicles were shiny black. They slowed, then stopped, and two vamps stepped off the snowmobiles at the same moment, each moving as if dismounting from a warhorse. The riders hadn’t bothered with coats, because some vamps don’t care if it’s cold or if they look human, and these two were that sort: African, tall, with chiseled bodies and features, carrying themselves with an assured arrogance that demonstrated their power. They were putting on a show of strength. They succeeded. The snow falling on their dark skin and black clothing wasn’t melting, and though I knew vamps were cold-blooded, it was always disconcerting to see the proof. These two were powerful; they would be formidable opponents if I had to prove myself to them. I could smell the vamp scents of ginger, fresh-cut grass, and faintly of jasmine. One was male and one was female and I didn’t know them.
Beast peered out through our eyes and snarled with my mouth. A challenge.
Hearing the sound, the two vamps paused, taking in my pelt, my bipedal stance, my nonhuman body shape, my brightly glowing yellow-gold eyes, and the man with guns standing at my side.
Eli nodded to them, a single jut of his head. “The Dark Queen welcomes you,” he called out. I just watched. The two didn’t relax. But they didn’t run or attack. Good so far.
Behind the vamps, six more snowmobiles emerged from the uphill curve of the drive, moving at slower speeds into the open land of the front entrance, toward the parking area. The vehicles were each painted in dazzling shades, from red to mustard yellow to a vibrant blue with flames painted on the sides, and they carried