I wasn’t trying to. You’re projecting rather strongly right now.
Shit.
Put up your mental blocks. When he started to move forward, I stopped him. I needed a moment to erect them. Picturing walls hadn’t worked. Remembering what Thoth, the Egyptian god, had taught me, I once again imagined my mind getting a rainbow candy-coating. Did Thoth recommend a candy-coating of my brain? No. That would be silly. I was the one who’d interpreted his wise words as my needing to skittle-fy myself. To be safe, I did it twice, hoping to keep the likes of Cadmael out of my head.
Finally, I nodded and we started moving again. It was showtime.
Four
The Guild: 0/5 Do Not Recommend
When we’d first arrived and I’d seen the interior, I’d thought it beautiful, which had mostly been relief after seeing the outside of the building. Now, though, the unending white marble felt cold and austere, more like a mausoleum. As this place housed vampires, I wondered if the designer had been screwing with them.
The room we entered was a large rectangle, with a six-foot-tall fireplace on the opposite wall. Crystal chandeliers hung from the white coffered ceiling. There was an oversized portrait above the fireplace and a few landscapes in muted tones that looked like afterthoughts on the walls. The portrait quietly, sneakily drew attention. The man had magnetic eyes, black with sparks of red in them. His brows were like violent slashes across his face. Dark hair, with a short beard, he wore a permanent expression of hostility and superiority.
With more difficulty than it should have required, I tore my eyes away from the painting and surveyed the people. Audrey was right. All the vampires were in black, all except for one woman. She wore a dark red cocktail dress in this huge white room, looking like a drop of blood on a sheet.
Wait. I was wrong. One other person eschewed black. Cadmael stood to the side of the door. He was a tall, raw-boned man. His brown skin was taut over prominent cheekbones. His long, thick black hair lay in braids down his back. Even in what was probably a very expensive pair of chocolate brown trousers and matching shirt, he looked more Mayan warrior than modern vampire.
“Cadmael,” Clive said with a bow of his head. “It’s good to see you again, my friend. You remember my mate, Samantha.”
Cadmael nodded, his expression impassive. He didn’t like me any better than I liked him. Of course, I didn’t like him because he didn’t like me, so, as I said on the plane, he’d started it.
When I felt a push against my candy-coating, I glared at him. I wanted him to know I knew what he was doing, and he was an asshole for trying it. I then looked away, as I wasn’t trying to start a brawl with a vampire who felt older and more powerful than anyone else in the room.
They talked for a bit, Clive asking about Cadmael’s home. In a room filled with vampires, no one talked about anything they didn’t mind being heard by all.
While they chatted, I glanced around. There were more people here than I’d expected, mostly men, and far more of them than I’d anticipated were humans. A couple of the humans carried trays with goblets of blood, but others appeared to be standing at the ready should anyone require anything.
I’d need to ask Clive later, as it wasn’t terribly important, but there seemed to be a hierarchy within the humans. The ones in black suits with white shirts, like the ones holding the trays, seemed to be the servants. The ones wearing black suits with black shirts appeared to only answer to one vampire. Perhaps they were the vampire’s own personal assistants, rather than the Guild’s employees.
Regardless, each of them had found an inconspicuous way to show their disdain for me. The one favored by most was a scan of the room where they’d close their eyes as they passed over me. Ooh, snubbed by Renfields. I’d try somehow to survive.
Opening my mind to the vamps, I hovered over their green blips in my head, not trying to delve deep, not trying to call attention to myself. I couldn’t let them know what I was able to do. If they knew I was a necromancer and that I had power over vamps, it’d be an instant death sentence. Right now, I was scum they preferred to pretend didn’t exist. I wanted to keep it that way.
Pretending to study the painting beside me, I touched the blips, listening to current thoughts, not delving into memories. They’d all noticed us. I was pretty universally reviled, as I’d assumed, but what I found interesting were the varied reactions Clive received.
It was like working behind the bar in The Slaughtered Lamb. Quiet voices overlapped, but I began to pull out the threads. Some were happy to see him. One, the woman in red, was very happy to see him, though she didn’t know who he was. Most were wary, wondering if what they’d heard about the Battle of Alcatraz was correct. Had he really killed so many of their own kind? And why wasn’t the Guild punishing him for it?
The voices I focused on, though, were the ones who not only believed retribution was in order but wanted to be the one to hand him his final death. One in particular worried me. I turned from the painting and watched a pale, sandy-haired man walk across the room toward Clive.
Incoming.
Clive glanced over at me and then his attention moved to the man approaching.
Sebastian stepped up, cutting off the other man’s path. “Clive, Samantha. It’s good to finally have you here.” His head tilted as he regarded me. “Clive said you had a broken leg.”
Cadmael turned to study me.
The angry vamp paused to speak with someone.
“All better now,” I said, distracted by a possible impending assassination attempt. “It’s nice to finally be out of the cast.” I looked down at myself. “I’m not sure heels were a good idea, though.”
Clive glanced at my shoes as well. “Are you in pain?”
“No, no.” I patted his arm. “I’m fine. Just little twinges here and there.”
“How was your leg broken?” Cadmael asked.
