His eyes widen. “They wouldn’t!”
I laugh, and I’m not laughing at him so much as I am at his honest response. Maurice stares at me when I’m done, hand slack like he doesn’t care about the phone at all.
“Are you—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“Did you think about my offer?” The words come out all in a rush, and, hindered by his accent, it takes me a second to understand.
“Yes.”
“Well?”
He seems desperate to know, but the truth is that I have come to no decision yet. Something about the last fifteen minutes has made saying yes suddenly dangerous, and I am not certain why.
Over on the desk, my phone rings, and I take it for the out it is. I give Maurice a tight smile, pretending not to notice the disappointment he hides, and snatch up the device and answer.
“A vampire is at the doors requesting an audience, crai.”
“They aren’t with the clan?”
“No.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maurice get to his feet. “Have they told you what they want?”
“No, crai. Only that he wants to talk to you about something.” The guard’s voice drops lower. “We asked, but he said he would only share it with you.”
It’s not the best idea to let him in, but no better to meet him out by the front doors. “Escort him inside,” I say. “Directly to my office. And if you get a hint ofanything—”
“Yes, crai.” The guard’s voice is firm. He won’t hesitate. Few of us will, after the past year.
Maurice is in my space as soon as I end the call. “What is it?”
I have no doubt he heard both ends of the conversation, but I relay it to him anyway.
“I will not leave,” he says.
“I won’t ask you to.” The truth is, I don’t like this. It could be a usual visit from a vampire who does not reside in the city, but in that case, they would simply say that they are coming to announce their presence and let us know how long they will be in our territory.
This vampire is far too secretive for my liking, and I have not even met him yet.
Maurice arranges himself into a more professional position on the sofa, while I stand next to my desk. A knock sounds a minute or so later, and I shout for the guard to come in.
He swings the door open, stepping just inside to allow the stranger past. Mark is one of our longest-serving guards, a vampire who is not necessarily interested in gaining more power, but who takes his position seriously.
The look he gives me now tells me that I am right to be suspicious. “Your visitor, crai.”
“Thank you, Mark. Wait outside, would you?”
He nods and withdraws, pulling the door gently shut behind him. He’ll escort this vampire out when we’re done.
I take a few moments to get the measure of the stranger. He doesn’t strike me as particularly intimidating, though I don’t like the presumptuous way he looks between me and Maurice as though I should tell Maurice to leave. He is pale in the way of all vampires who were pale in life, with jaw-length brown hair and average features. His clothes are dark and plain—all in all, he is entirely forgettable.
“I am Njáll,” I say because even if he knows it, I should begin with politeness. “You did not give your name to the guards.”
“Augustine,” the vampire replies absently. He’s eyeing Maurice again. Surely he can sense that Maurice is higher on the food chain than either of us? I may not like the supposed necessity of his presence, but I am not fool enough to think that Maurice is less able to handle himself than I am. “I asked for an audience with the crai alone.”
He says it directly to Maurice, which has my eyebrows jumping. Maurice smiles lazily in response, fangs showing. “If you do not like my presence, you are free to leave. Where the crai goes, I go.”
Not strictly true, but I am not about to press the point. Anyone who is adamant Maurice should not be here is inherently suspicious.
