“Oh.” I shook my head, unsure of what to say. Would they all attack if they knew my leg had been broken when I was fighting Garyn?
“Haven’t you heard the story?” Sebastian asked, a sly smile playing over his lips. “She challenged Garyn.”
It was subtle, but obvious. A tightening of a shoulder, a tilting of a head. Everyone in the room was listening.
Who are all these people and why is he doing this to me? I asked Clive mind-to-mind.
Guild members, candidates, their minions, vampire and human. As to why, I’ll find out.
“What I’ve heard,” Sebastian continued, “through secondhand sources, is that it was quite a battle. Samantha had the upper hand but didn’t want to destroy the fae-owned nightclub and so pulled a punch, giving Garyn the advantage. She swept Samantha’s leg and broke it.”
Sebastian looked overly pleased at sharing the story. Was he happy someone had finally smacked Garyn around or was he painting a bigger target on my back?
Clive clearly didn’t know either. I felt his mistrust. “I know none of our people would be so indiscreet as to pass on that story. Are you in communication with the fae?”
Sebastian smiled. “I have ears everywhere.”
Ah, so he was throwing me under the bus to boost his own rep. Got it.
“Just the leg?” Cadmael asked.
I shook my head. “Cracked ribs, concussion, fractured ulna. We know an excellent healer who took care of those problems right away. She did what she could with the femur, but time was needed.”
He grunted in agreement. “Healing can be slow for some.”
Is he helping or piling on with Sebastian? I asked Clive.
Not sure, Clive responded. I would normally assume helping, but we both know how he feels about werewolves.
I turned back to Sebastian. “Thank you for your help this morning. Our new room is much more comfortable than the first.”
The smile dropped from his face. “József was reprimanded.” Back stiff, he said, “Come. Let me introduce you to the others.”
Does everyone one here know how he was reprimanded? I asked.
Anything less than death would be considered an insult.
Oh.
Sebastian led us across the room to two men and two women. “Clive, I believe you know Oliver, Frank, and Delores.” Gesturing to the woman in the red dress, he said, “You may not have met Ava, though. She’s a late entry for North American Counselor.”
“It’s good to see you all. Thank you for your patience,” Clive said.
The first man, light-haired and blue-eyed, nodded. “It’s always good to see you, Clive. We were sorry to hear about your mate’s injury.” He looked at me, holding out his hand. “I’m Oliver. I hope it isn’t paining you too much.” He had kind eyes, which wasn’t something I normally said about vampires. “I’ve broken quite a few bones over the years, and it always hurts like hell.”
I grinned. “I can attest.”
The other three apparently intended to ignore me, so Clive took over.
“Sam, this is Frank,” he said. “Frank is the Master of Chicago.”
Frank barely glanced my way, giving a brief nod. He was shorter and heavier, with thinning dark hair and a beaky nose. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said to Clive. “I’d heard you were dead.”
“All indications to the contrary,” Clive responded.
Frank tipped his head, still studying Clive. “One with so many enemies often doesn’t live long.”
Clive’s smile was sharp as a dagger. “Strangely enough, they keep losing their heads.” Clive glanced back at me and gestured to the woman beside Frank. “And this is Delores,” he continued. “She’s the Master of Mexico City and has been even longer than I was the Master of San Francisco.”
