“Make an appointment at the council offices like everyone else,” the man sputtered. “This is highly inappropriate.”
“Talk to us now,” I compelled, fear slicing through me as my powers met a mental brick wall from the man. Humans weren’t equipped to combat a vampire’s power of compulsion—it was one of the many reasons they’d been targeted as a food source for this long. Someone had trained this village council local in the middle of rural England to withstand mind control.
The man snorted. “No.” With that, he slammed the top half of the door closed, narrowly missing Rye’s face. We exchanged a silent “what just happened” look before setting off back to the hotel, fear keeping us apart in our separate thoughts the entire long walk.
Eight
Staring at the gathered upturned faces in my hotel room, I tried to put on my professor persona but quickly found it too constricting for what I truly wanted to say.
“I received a phone call from your employer this evening,” I said.
“The Madame?” Ford asked. He and the others were arranged in the sitting area as they’d been before, scattered across the floor and on the plush chairs. The sofa remained empty but for me and Rye, who had lit a trembling cigarette. She’d said nothing since I explained what Madame Laveau told me on the phone, chain-smoking in silence the entire second half of our walk back to the hotel. It seemed I was right in my assessment that she, too, had grown fond of the nest.
“What’d she say?” Benedict poised his pen at his pad, ready for feedback.
“I bet she’s proud of us,” Freddie chirped, adjusting his tie.
“Somehow I doubt that,” Alfred added, cupping his chin in his hand.
“Could be.” William floated in his usual crisscross seat to my right. Alex remained silent, leaning against the far wall, hands in his pockets, hair in his face. It was his thoughts I wanted most—his fears I wanted to soothe more than the others.
But I resisted, turning to each fangling for a moment.
“She wants more progress than we’ve made,” I said, choosing my next words carefully without dulling their edge. “Or there will be unfortunate consequences.”
“What does that mean? We’ll get fired?” Freddie sneered.
“Just you, ya muppet,” Alfred shot back.
“I like this job, Professor, I don’t want to get fired.” Benedict’s face pulled down, bottom lip already trembling.
“I wouldn’t say firing is exactly the threat.” I floundered, unsure how to tell the room full of young men that their promised immortal lives were already in danger of being cut much too short—that it would be my fault at the end if that were to pass.
“She’ll kill us.” Alex’s words hushed the room like the flickering of lights at a matinee. “We’re too dangerous to leave out here if she can’t trust we know how to control ourselves.”
“You meanyou’retoo dangerous.” Ford shot out of his seat, rounding on Alex. “You’re the one shredding your mum’s—”
“The fuck did you just say to me?” Alex was off the wall and at Ford’s throat, the two tumbling to the ground in a mess of flailing limbs. They rolled in a rapid blur, appearing solid for a split second before disappearing again, then reappearing in a bloodied mess on the far side of the room.
Voices collided from around me, egging them on, warning them to stop, screaming in shock. Somewhere in the chaos, a door opened and closed. Rye stubbed out her cigarette just in time for the tussle to nearly land in her lap. This was a mistakefor which no one anticipated the outcome, as the American snatched each fangling from seemingly midair, reducing them to bent, whining children doing their best not to let her tear their ears from their heads.
“That isenough, gentlemen,” she hissed, releasing them each with a sharp twist. Chastised, Alex and Ford returned to their original spots, tenderly guarding their ears.
“I see one of us is adjusting to her duties.” Billy’s voice barely had time to chirp from the far corner of the room before my rage took hold. This smooth-talking braggart had endangered us all with no thought for the consequences of his Laissez-faire attitude. I had him by the throat, slammed into the luxurious wallpaper before I could even blink.
“You.”
“Pat, please,” Billy sputtered against my grip, hands scrambling at his throat. “We’re not fanglings.” Technically, vampires didn’t need to circulate air—we didn’t necessarily breathe the same way as humans. But the throat is still a tender part of the body, one we instinctively seek to protect, and one that drops us into submission immediately when attacked.
“And yet your naivete says otherwise.” I squeezed tighter. “When were you going to tell us of the Madame’s deadline? Of the true danger waiting for this nest and all involved?”
“Patrick,” Rye warned. I ignored her.
“Or were you going to watch us fail from a distance before setting off on your private jet?”
“What are you talking about?” Billy wheezed.
“He can’t talk to you like this, Patrick. Let him go.” Leslee this time. I brushed her off.
