“Let’s find our seats,” Lucien said.
As they moved with the crowd out of the wing, a distinctive laugh Patrick remembered from the challenge ring in Farningham reached his ears. He craned his head around, gaze skimming over the crowd, until he saw the riot of blonde curls belonging to Cressida.
“Oh,” Spencer said in a mild voice that belied the way he grabbed Patrick’s hand that throbbed with the burn and held on tight enough to hurt. “That’s not good.”
“What’s not good?” Carmen asked.
“Bad seafood for dinner. I need to use the toilet.”
Spencer hauled Patrick out of the circle of vampires, who let them go, though Einar followed after them to keep up appearances. Lucien wasn’t known for letting his human servants out of sight alone when surrounded by potential enemies.
The toilets were located in the cross-corridor where they’d come in. Spencer didn’t let go until they were in the men’s room. Einar followed them inside, leaning against the door to keep anyone else out. Fatima passed through the door right between Einar’s legs, tail lashing in displeasure as she went to Spencer’s side.
“No magic,” Patrick warned.
Spencer ran a hand through his hair. “Fatima can keep people from listening in without triggering the spell hiding the building.”
Patrick looked down at Fatima. The psychopomp yawned and licked her sharp teeth, golden eyes half-lidded. “If you’re sure.”
“When you said the god pack alpha werewolf had a demon in her soul, I thought that would be an easy break to do,” Spencer said in a low voice. “Easy isn’t happening.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s not just any demon. It’s powerful and it’sold, and the only ones I’ve ever seen like that in the mortal world usually belong to the ruling class of the hell everyone’s most familiar with these days.”
“Have you ever exorcised a demon like that from a soul?”
Spencer grimaced. “Once. It didn’t go well.”
“For the demon?”
“For me.”
“But you exorcised it, right?”
Spencer drew in a deep breath and let it out in an explosive sigh. “Yes.”
“Okay.” Patrick dragged his hand down his face, sucking air through his teeth. “And the London god pack is handling security for the fucking auction. I don’t like what that implies.”
“Is she the one who fucked Rossiter?”
“Yeah.” Patrick looked over his shoulder and met Einar’s gaze. “I’m sure there’s some kind of code word or phrase you guys hashed out for something like this?”
“We aren’t new to bad business deals,” Einar said. “We’re going back to Lucien.”
Fatima yawned again and twitched her tail. Spencer leaned down to scratch between her ears. “We’re clear.”
They left the toilets, Einar leading the way back to the others. Lucien studied them with narrowed black eyes as they approached.
“Are you done?” Lucien asked.
“Carmen should’ve worn the sapphires,” Einar said blandly. “The human servants agree.”
Lucien’s expression didn’t change—no one’s did—but Patrick knew the warning had been received.
“Sapphires don’t match my eyes,” Carmen replied.
“They match mine,” Spencer muttered.
