“Only a quarter are living out in the open.”
“That’s still a lot,” I said. “Where will we put them all?” Not that this would work. We would be trying to undo the Great Outing.
“They can share rooms in my cellars until new dwellings can be built. Ensure they understand the alternative is losing everything to Roman.” He stared for a long moment, as if wanting to say more, but instead rushed from the room.
“Hey! Please don’t…go?” My voice faded.Is this really happening?Was Stark really putting himself on the line for me? Was he trusting the fate of the world to a human?
Yes.
As dark as the situation felt, a sprinkle of pride surged through me. Itdidn’t make up for the garbage he’d put me through, but maybe I’d been wrong. Hecouldchange. Just enough to make me look for a weapon.
I went room to room upstairs, hoping to find a spear, knife, or even a Bible I could chuck at Roman. Sadly, all I found were more of Stark’s old books, his gold coin collection, a movie room, and enough antiques to fill an airport hangar.Someone needs a hoarding intervention.
I sprinted downstairs, unsure what to do other than create a diversion so Stark could gain the upper hand in the fight, but when I found them, I didn’t see two vampires tearing each other apart.
There was no blood.
No screaming.
Not even a fang.
The two men sat in the sprawling living room with the angelic ceiling murals, laughing and drinking wine.
“They are idiots.” The man with short, strawberry-blond hair and a deep voice I recognized from Charlie’s phone the other night chuckled.Roman.“The Swedish covens claim to have the largest brains, but we all know it does not make up for their incredibly small cocks.”
“Yes! Swedish vampires are exasperating. Always with their sweaters.” Stark laughed, throwing back his head in an armchair across from the sofa where Roman sat. “Almost as bad as the French vampires with their tiny red berets.”
They were trash-talking other covens like two schoolgirls. This was not a fight at all. Not in my world.
Unnoticed, and still barefoot, I padded behind the corner, hoping they wouldn’t hear me or catch my scent.Maybe I’ll blend in with the winter forest air freshener down here.
“Another glass?” Stark offered.
“No. Thank you,” said Roman. “But I am honored you would share your Marg Hoe with me. That is an extremely rare bottle.”
Wasn’t it Margaux?
“1855 was a solid year,” said Stark. “You can almost taste the industrial revolution.” Stark added, “So then, let us get down to business. Name your terms. I understand you wish to overthrow the current system?”
“Humans are practically begging for destruction,” Roman explained, “and we need a model—a very good-looking one—to shepherd us into a position of domination. Otherwise, how will vampires survive? Also, all this healthy, unprocessed food modern humans are eating lately tastes terrible. Organic lettuce. Bleh! Grass-fed beef? Terrible! Too earthy. I say we go back to basics. Only give them tasty food like Hydrox cookies or Vienna sausages. Oh, I really like the flavor of humans who use hydrogenated palm oil. Delicious. You can taste the fat in their arteries.”
Huh?Roman’s meal planwould kill us faster than the vampires. I cringed, waiting for Stark to tell him how horribly wrong it would be to force humans to eat garbage.
“Agreed,” Stark said.
Wait. What?
Stark went on, “Something must be done. However, I view that as more of a supply and demand issue. Plenty of humans are still willing to eat poorly and sell us their gourmet blood. I see the issue as a difference of philosophies. You wish to concentrate all vampire power into a handful of individuals. I prefer the current system.”
“Who are you kidding? You wish to rule with Anna,” Roman accused.
“I am not opposed to a monarchy.”
“Butterflies are wonderful. What is your point?” asked Roman.
I frowned. Was Roman making some obscure vampire joke?
“Yes. We all…” Stark cleared his throat “…love butterflies. I am merely saying that I prefer placing our fate in the hands of someone ethereal.”
