Josie leaned forward with wide, innocent eyes. “I have several ideas for tension resolution if you’d like to hear them.”
“I’m sure you do,” Anne said, setting down her wine. “Ladies, I’m here to prepare for the summit. I love spending time with you both, but I will be returning to Galway when this is over. Patrick Murphy is a part of my past, not my future.”
“You’re not going back to Galway.” Josie’s eyes drifted as she watched the fire. “No, you’re not.”
“I am. Don’t be—”
“Not.” Josie’s voice took on a singing tone. “No, you’re not not not.”
Brigid and Anne exchanged a look.
“Jo?” Anne said, leaning closer.
“Not tonight. Such a sight. What a fright,” Josie murmured under her breath.
Brigid looked slightly alarmed, but Anne had become accustomed to Josie’s episodes long ago. She was rarely violent and always snapped out of them within a few minutes. The greatest danger was that they left her completely vulnerable, which was why Tom watched over his mate like a hawk.
Anne scooted next to her friend on the settee and laid her cheek on Josie’s shoulder, clasping a cold hand in her own. Unlike most vampires, Josie had never had much control over her amnis, which left her unable to consistently heat her body to a more humanlike temperature. As a water vampire, she remained quite cool.
“Jo-Jo,” Anne said in a singsong voice. “Where are you?”
“Hell,” Josie said, keeping her voice low. “Fire and rain. Fire and rain and blood in the streets. I’m hungry, and there’s so much blood…”
The dog whined on Josie’s lap as her rough voice sent a shiver down Anne’s spine.
Hungry. So much blood…
“Come back, lovey.” Anne stroked her cold cheek. “It doesn’t sound very pretty there.”
Josie inhaled suddenly, and Anne knew she was back.
“Did I wander?”
Anne nodded, ignoring Brigid’s worried gaze. “Just a bit.”
“Sorry.” Josie took another breath and exhaled slowly. “I want you to be careful in London, Anne.”
“Why?” The superstitious part of Anne could never quite dismiss Josie’s “feelings.”
“Don’t know exactly.” She squeezed Anne’s hand. “Just be careful.”
MURPHY’S satellite office in the docklands was well away from the glass-fronted building that housed his public offices. The old warehouse didn’t look like much from the outside, but the interior was carefully cleaned and refurbished brick. The industrial braces and ducts hadn’t been removed but had been highlighted and worked into the modern furnishings and concealed technology to create an office perfect for immortals. The only windows in the building were high and covered with decorative, solid shutters.
“It’s completely secure,” Tom said, nudging Anne’s shoulder at the conference table, which had been built from reclaimed wooden pallets. “Had a human construction team fit it with the most up-to-date insulation to protect against electronic monitoring, listening devices of all kinds. Murphy ordered the retrofit, but I claimed it as soon as it was finished. I run most of the security out of this office.”
Tom’s crooked smile had always charmed her.
“Most vampires don’t use electronic spying,” Anne said.
“The smart ones do,” Declan said from across the table. “Or they have their humans use it.”
“So I’m to assume you do?” Anne asked, her interest piqued.
Declan looked to Murphy first, but the vampire who’d behaved so rashly in Galway and so politely at the opera only gave a measured nod that reminded Anne her loyalty no longer lay with the three men around her but with a rival who’d openly opposed Murphy at many turns.
She hated her sister a little in that moment.
“We do,” Declan said. “It’s still very effective. Most immortals are willful Luddites. We use it against them. Our most valuable intelligence usually comes from electronic communications from human employees associated with vampires.”
Anne said, “But with a large human staff, don’t you run the same—or even increased—risk of exposure?”
“If the left hand doesn’t know what the right is doing,” Declan said, “the risk is less. Not eliminated, mind you, but—”
“I treat my people well,” Murphy said, not looking up from the files he’d been perusing on the table. “A well-fed dog has no need to scavenge.” He looked up, focused on Anne. “He’ll stay at his master’s side through fire.”
“Tell me you’re not comparing your human employees to dogs,” she said.
He shrugged. “Simply an illustration. The fact remains: While temptation is always a threat, humans who are treated well have less inclination to look elsewhere for patronage. As for immortal influence, I make it a point to know who is in my city at all times.” His eyes flickered with some dark emotion. “I didn’t always, but when I make mistakes, I do not repeat them.”
Jack. He was talking about Jack.
And maybe her?
Anne knew it could very well be both. But while her heart was too stubborn to leave him entirely, Anne had also learned her lesson about trusting too easily.
“Brigid is late,” she said, remarking on the obvious since she had nothing else to fill the tension-laced air between them.
“She usually is.”
As if on cue, a tiny tornado burst through the door. “Sorry! Sorry. Blame this one.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the auburn-haired behemoth behind her who was carefully locking the door since they were the last to arrive.
Anne smiled immediately. “Carwyn! I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Neither did I,” Murphy said. “Listen, Carwyn—”
“Sorry to interrupt—wait no. That’s a lie,” Carwyn said, winking at Anne. “I’m not sorry at all. Don’t get your breeches in a bunch, Murphy. Gemma called just before Brig was leaving with the final guest list for the summit. Thought you might want to know who was on the menu in London. I’m not intruding.”
“Yes, you are,” Brigid said. “I told you I could bring them.”
“But then I wouldn’t get to see that expression he makes,” Carwyn said, nodding toward Murphy. “Like an irritated cat in a necktie. Adorable.”
Anne smothered a smile. While she could see the fixed look of annoyance on Murphy’s face, she also saw the hint of laughter in his eyes.
It was hard not to love Carwyn. While any immortal leader would chafe at such a powerful and respected vampire living in their territory, Carwyn had a startling lack of personal ambition. He’d been a Catholic priest until only a few years ago, and his devotion to his large extended family had never waned. The fact that he’d mated to one of Murphy’s lieutenants had to rankle, but Anne heard it hadn’t stopped Murphy from using Carwyn’s connections when it suited him.
Gemma, one of their hosts in London, was Carwyn’s oldest daughter, and Deirdre, the earth vampire who would be overseeing Dublin with Tom and Declan in Murphy’s absence, was one of his other daughters.
Anne’s own sire had the utmost respect for Carwyn, and he didn’t like many.
“Do tell,” Murphy said, his arm sweeping graciously toward the chairs at the end of the conference table. “I can guess most, but it will be good to review them for Anne’s benefit anyway.”
“Thank you.” She was far from offended by Murphy’s assumption of her ignorance. She had made a point to avoid vampire politics as much as possible. She was going as a representative of her sister, but also as a somewhat neutral party since Mary had independent alliances with many of the players in the North Atlantic.
“A quick reminder,” Declan said. “For everyone, but especially Anne since she’s coming up to speed. This summit is focusing on the shipping and transportation aspect of Elixir. We all know it’s shown up in varying degrees across Europe. Terry’s aim with this summit is to focus on who is moving the drug, in the hopes that it will reveal who is behin
d the production. So he only invited those with some kind of shipping interest, particularly in the North Atlantic. As far as we know, infection rates in the North Sea and the Baltic have been the most concentrated.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know,” Declan said. “That’s one of the reasons we’re going.”
“How many were invited?” Anne said.
“Terry didn’t tell us,” Brigid said. “But we do know seven have accepted, including us. That leaves five foreign-vampire interests outside the British Isles.”
“The first fabulous contestant,” Carwyn said, leaning back in his seat, “is Jean Desmarais in Marseilles.”
“Not a surprise,” Tom said. “He and Terry have been doing business for years.”
“It’ll be good to see Jean,” Carwyn said. “Haven’t spent much time with him since Rome.”
“He’s in the Mediterranean, yes?” Anne asked. “Mary mentioned something about cargo from the Eastern Mediterranean as being of some concern when she briefed me.”
“It is,” Murphy said. “Most of the shipments of Elixir we’ve intercepted have had origins in the Eastern Mediterranean with final destinations in the north.”
“But Mary also mentioned several countries. A Greek ship. A Bulgarian one. Turkish—”
“It would be shortsighted”—Carwyn broke in—“to take human borders or labels into account in that region. The Eastern Mediterranean has some of the oldest shipping interests in the world. Human governments change by the decade sometimes, but the council in Athens has not changed significantly in the past thousand years.”
“A thousand years?” Anne said.
Declan said, “Rumors are the Athenians don’t even move some years. Literally. They don’t move. Their court treat them as gods and bring humans for them to feed.”
Carwyn shrugged. “Rumors are only that. Rumors. Rome watches Athens with suspicion, and Tripoli does not lower its guard. Don’t ever discount the Greeks. They control the Bosphorus, and most of the factions in the Eastern Mediterranean owe them some kind of allegiance, even if it is symbolic.”
“Does Jean Desmarais?”
“No. He may have some interests in the Mediterranean,” Murphy said, “but the majority of his interests still lie in the Atlantic, and he’s a known ally of Terry’s. I expect he’ll be there for information. I don’t think France has been heavily infected.”
“He’s also Terry’s rival,” Declan said. “He and Terry have been competing to enter the blood-wine market the past two years.”
“Blood-wine is… a whole other issue,” Murphy said. “Who’s next?”
“Leonor in Spain,” Brigid said. “Another ally.”
“And another blood-wine competitor,” Declan muttered, drawing glares from both Murphy and Tom. “I’m only pointing it out.”
Tom said, “Leonor had a challenge a few years back, yes? Got that all straightened out?”
“She has,” Anne said. “Mary and Leonor have open communication. I think Leonor’s leadership is very solid.”
She’d wrested back control of the Iberian Peninsula the same way Mary kept Northern Ireland, ruthlessly and with little conscience.
“Jetta Ommunsdotter will be there,” Carwyn said, nodding at Anne. “I believe Mary sending Anne was the decider on that one.”
“I can’t take credit,” Anne said. “Everyone knows Mary and Jetta are friends who hate each other.”
Everyone around the table laughed.
“What is it the human girls say?” Brigid asked. “Frenemies?”
“Something along those lines,” Declan said. “Good to know even the oldest of us never outgrow those impulses.”
“The older I get,” Carwyn said, “the more the vampire world resembles a human schoolyard.”
“Our party, Terry, Jean, Leonor, and Jetta make five,” Murphy said. “None unexpected. So who are the surprises?”
“Two that surprised me,” Carwyn said. “Cormac O’Brien is coming and bringing his youngest daughter, Novia.”
“New York is coming to the party?” Tom said.
“Cormac doesn’t particularly surprise me, but the daughter does,” Carwyn said. “When I say young, I mean young. She hasn’t been immortal more than five years.”
Anne’s eyebrows rose of their own volition. “He must be grooming her for something important.”
“The O’Briens are a mob,” Murphy said. “Half of them are swindlers, and the other half are gamblers.”
“Swindlers and gamblers,” Anne said. “So that makes them different from you how?”
Brigid snickered, but Murphy only let the corner of his mouth turn up. “I grew up. They never have.”
Anne had her doubts about his growing up, but she let them remain silent. This wasn’t about her and Murphy, it was about something far more important.
“I can’t deny that the O’Briens are clannish and can be a bit… odd,” Carwyn said. “But Cormac is the most legitimate of them. He’s the youngest of the brothers and trying to take his people in a new direction.”
“While fighting with his brothers every step of the way.”
“Perhaps this Novia is the new face of the O’Briens,” Tom said. “New generation. Less isolated. More political. That might be why he’s bringing the girl.”
Carwyn nodded. “That’s what I suspect. We’ll watch and see. Cormac owes me a few favors he doesn’t want me to collect. If we can twist any information out of the greedy bastard, I’ll count it a win.”
“Anyone else?” Anne asked, making notes as fast as her hand could write. It was a mountain of information to take in, and she’d have to translate all of it for Mary before she rested for the day.
“The Dutch.”
Anne dropped her pencil. “Really?”
“Really,” Brigid said. “Rens Anker has agreed to come.”
Even Anne knew that the Dutch, once the powerhouse of world shipping in both the human and vampire worlds, had become isolated in recent decades. The patriarch of the Anker clan had been killed mysteriously, and his two sons had taken over. Rens and Bastiaan Anker had taken their sire’s name as their own but had not taken on his public persona. Almost immediately, they’d sold off much of their fleet and focused on domestic issues in the lowlands, most recently scientific and environmental research.
“Gemma’s brother has recently mated into the Anker clan. There’s a relationship there now. She might have taken advantage of that to lure him to London,” Carwyn said.
“The Dutch are unexpected,” Murphy said. “But not unwelcome.”
He’d been quiet for much of the meeting, so when he spoke, everyone turned to listen.
“They are secretive,” he said. “But they’ve always had the widest connections. Asia. Africa. South America. There’s nowhere that they don’t have people. Publicly, they’ve divested from trade. Privately, I’ve suspected for a while that they’re trading in something else.”
“Information?” Anne said. “They’re building a network of spies?”
“They already have the network,” Murphy said. “And they’ve invested in satellite communications, which is almost unheard of for our kind. Look at vampire history. Only three things really retain value. Gold, blood, and information. The Dutch have plenty of gold. Old Jon Anker saw to that. I think Rens and his brother are trying to corner the market on information.”
“That may be,” Carwyn said. “But are they coming to London to buy or sell?”
“Or,” Anne said, “is it more simple than that? Gold, blood, and information. Elixir has the potential to affect everyone. They could be worried about the blood.”
Murphy nodded at her, a smile tipping up the corner of his mouth, and Anne felt a sudden spike of pride for her insight.
Which was quickly killed when she noticed how many notes she’d have to review.
A French playboy.
A Spanish empress.
A Swedish rival.
An American eccentric.
>
And a Dutch spy.
The conference hadn’t started, and Anne was already drowning.
“I HATE you,” she told her sister over the speakerphone in her secure wing of Brigid and Carwyn’s house.
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“What did Murphy do?”
“Nothing.”
Except kiss me in Galway and remind me that I miss him like a lost limb.
Stare at me during the opera as if he’d eat me alive in the most pleasurable way possible.
Show off his intellect, which has always been the most attractive thing about him.
“Patrick Murphy has been a complete gentleman,” she said. “Unerringly polite and respectful. Painfully welcoming.”
Anne heard Mary suck on her cigarette and release a breath. “Hateful man. That would irritate the piss out of me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Why did you ask me to do this?”
There was a suspicious pause on the other end of the line.
“To help me, of course.”
“And?”
“You need to leave your house more.”
“I am happy in Galway.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“I am. I have a nice life. A peaceful life. I help—”
“You, my dear sister, were about to murder a patient or go on a killing spree in the local village.”
Anne’s mouth dropped. “I was not!”
“I could hear it in your voice.”
“I’m a healer, Mary.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not a vampire, Anne. You needed a challenge. We all do. And you have been hiding there ever since that man broke your heart. There’s something restless in you. Something wrong. I’ve been sensing it for at least two years.”
“So you throw me into a situation where I have to interact with Patrick? That seems… torturous and excessive.”
Mary paused. “Torturous?”
Too much.
“Not torturous.” She tried to backtrack. “Irritating.”
“You didn’t say irritating, you said torturous. There’s a distinct difference.”
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