It would have meant a load of trouble on my end with every relative Gisila had beating down my door, but Iwould have felt a lot better about Jade’s safety.
“Sire?” Margarida stepped through the doorway—she must have been up and about, judging by how fast she arrived and the steaming mug she held, which wafted the scent of blood and hot cocoa. She was also still wearing what must have been her outfit for the evening—black dress pants and a fitted cashmere sweater. Her Portuguese sheepskin slippers were an odd butnot unexpected match. (Margarida was originally from Portugal, and while she had traveled the world with Ambrose and me for some time, in the end she’d chosen to base her own Family, the Dragão, in Portugal.)
“Good morning, Margarida,” I greeted, choosing not to respond to the sire remark.
She smiled as she made her way across the dining room, choosing to sit directly across from me. “What do we owe the honor of this visit to?”
“Some news,” I evasively said. “I’ll explain it when your siblings arrive.”
“Very well.” Margarida set her mug down, then tossed her long brunette hair over the back of her chair. “Are we waiting for Killian? I don’t believe he’s home right now.”
“He’s on his way, but no, we won’t be waiting.”
Angry tones marched down the hallway, signaling the presence of another Dracos.
“Oh, Baldwin,” Margarida said, though the observation was unneeded given there probably wasn’t another being in the house as disagreeable as the German vampire.
“Whatis so important that you have to rouse us at this awful hour to talk to us?” Baldwin shouted so he could be heard before he barged his way into the room. A tasseled night hat was smashed over his disarrayed, blond-brown hair, and a deep scowl was etched on his face. His dressing robe, however, was very fetching, with a European dragon embroidered on the sleeves.
“Good morning, Baldwin,” I said. “I’m glad to see you are doing as well as ever, despite your poor situation.”
He stomped across the room and plopped down in the chair next to Margarida. “My situation has been poor for years since you drained all my bank accounts!”
“So you haven’t heard from your Second, then, in the last few days? Very interesting,” I said, teasing. Well…perhaps not so much teasing as fishing for a reaction—anger was an excellent motivator for the dour vampire, who all too often had been in danger of drifting off into an eternal slumber.
Baldwin’s pale complexion took on a distinctly green hue, and he fumbled with his pockets, yanking his cellphone free so he could frantically tap out a message to his Second.
Margarida shook her head at me as I smirked.
Amée and Auberi—biological twins who shared bright blond hair and a complexion so pale that for the first century of their vampire lives I’d been half convinced they were going to keel over at any moment—charged through the door.
They were the last of the Dracos siblings who’d chosen to invade Killian’s home—and I suspect Amée’s competitive streak was the reason for their more modern loungewear with both of them wearing silk pajamas in a shade of red that matched their eyes, and black, fleece lined slippers.
“Elder Maledictus,” Amée said. “I imagine you’ve woken us this morning for some dark plan of yours?”
Auberi—not quite as fierce as his twin—scratched his elbow through his silk pajamas and moved to sit down until his twin kicked him, so he remained standing.
“Dark plan?” I repeated. “I’m hurt you think I’m capable of such a thing. No. I’m here to share with you some news, and inform you it’s high time you earn your keep.”
“Our what?” Baldwin yipped—outraged, as he always was.
“As of last night, I’m an employee of the Curia Cloisters,” I announced.
Amée frowned. “That is not a funny—or plausible—joke, Elder Maledictus.”
“It’s not a joke, it’s the truth,” I said cheerfully. “I’m a member of the Magical Response Task Force.”
“The what?” Baldwin blankly asked.
“The Magical Response Task Force is a policing unit of supernaturals charged with intervening when supernaturals harm humans—directly or indirectly,” I explained with an ease that surprised even me—though maybe it shouldn’t have since Jade made me repeat the line from the employee handbook ten times last night. “Consider me a magical police officer.”
Amée and Auberi turned to each other, asking in French—which they must have forgotten all of us present could speak—if I had finally cracked in my old age and gone insane.
“I think it’s great you’re getting a hobby,” Margarida announced.
“I don’t,” Baldwin said. “You’re obviously doing this for a reason. There’s no way you would sign up for actual work. What are you scheming?”
“You are only partially correct, Baldwin. I haven’t joined the squad out of the sudden pedantic need to make something with my life. Rather, I joined it because I have become invested in the vampire slayer who works for the task force. And by invested, I mean she’s mine,” I said.
