“You do occasionally get lone vampires, but it’s rare,” she said. “Being part of a Family makes things so much easier.”

“I’ve had people call into the show—new vampires who say they’d never even heard of Families. They were victims of random attacks, and they have no choice but to take care of themselves. What about them?”

“They usually don’t last very long,” she said, frowning. “Denver’s Master, Rick—Alette says he was unaffiliated for centuries.”

“Yeah. I’m guessing he was always a bit of a black sheep.” It wasn’t my story to tell. But it was a good story.

“I’d like to meet him. He sounds interesting.”

“He is. He’s a really good guy. You should come visit.” I spotted a familiar face across the room and nudged Emma. “There, that guy? Were-jaguar.”

“Really?”

Luis had spotted me by that time and strolled over, arms spread wide in greeting. “Kitty, my love!”

I blushed. Why did I always blush? I smiled at him and tried to cover it up. “You know it’s true, you sit here long enough you’ll see absolutely everyone at the conference walk past.”

“So you’re saying you were waiting for me?” he said, and winked.

He looked at Emma, and his smile fell a millimeter—only a bit of chill. His nose flared, taking in her vampiric scent. He seemed uncertain, though his tone was bright as ever. “Who is this very lovely person?”

“This is Emma, a friend of mine,” I said. “Emma, Luis.”

“Hi,” she said, offering her hand.

He tucked it in both of his, bowed over it, but didn’t kiss it. “Lovely to meet you.” She nodded graciously in turn.

“Any plans this evening?” he said, straight to me.

“Conference, work, hanging out with my husband.”

“I still suspect that you’re pulling one over on me with that.”

“It’s not a joke,” I said.

He sighed in mock despair, hand over his chest. “Well then, I’ll have to leave you to it. We’re still having dinner tomorrow tonight, yes? You and your husband.”

“And your sister,” I added.

“Until then.” He prowled away, throwing a last half-lidded, cat-like look over his shoulder.

“Wow,” Emma said. “He’s nice.”

“Hmm, he can be. I actually met him in D.C. when I was there for the hearings.”

Her smile seemed wistful. “I get the feeling he doesn’t like vampires too much.”

I shifted my seat so I looked at her instead of out. She didn’t seem at all insecure or self-conscious. She sat tall, chin up, gaze out, at ease. She had all the elegance and poise I attributed to vampires.

“Is it getting any better?” I asked. “Or easier, at least?”

She continued gazing over the lobby as if she commanded the space. “I’ve stopped gasping for air when I think I’ve forgotten to breathe. It’s … it’s hard to describe. The rules all changed. And the new ones make perfect sense.”

Emma was the only vampire I’d known before she’d been turned. I hadn’t known her long, then, but I remembered. She’d changed, since then. Still, people were always changed by crises, by the trauma in their lives. I’d certainly changed. I hardly recognized the naïve kid I’d been before I was attacked, or even the super scared one I’d been right after. That was years ago. How could we not change?

If what I’d told Luis—that if you sat here long enough you’d see everyone associated with the conference walk by sooner or later—was true, I figured I’d eventually spot Paul Flemming, and I could … confront him. Not tackle and maul him, alas. Find out what he’d been doing for the last four years, besides dodging criminal charges in the U.S. But he hadn’t made an appearance.

“Oh! You’re Kitty Norville aren’t you? Really?”

Emma and I both jumped, startled.

Two young-looking women, holding onto each other’s arms, came up to us, eyes wide, biting their lips, giggling. They wore skirts and T-shirts, hip scarves and jewelry, and had their pale hair bundled up in scrunchies. They were so thin they might fall over in a slight breeze. I pegged them as grad students or lab assistants of one of the attending scientists—old enough to be here, young enough to not care if they had any dignity about it. They carried on like groupies, and I felt that little flush of celebrity. Getting recognized in public was simultaneously weird and flattering. The human side of me never got tired of the feelings of validation and accomplishment. Wolf thought it felt a little like being hunted.

“Yeah,” I said. “Hi.”

“We are huge fans,” one of them said. Might have been the one who spoke before, might not have. “We’d heard you were going to be here, but we didn’t really believe it, but here you are!”

Emma looked like she was clenching her jaw to keep from laughing.

“I’m glad I could be here,” I said. “I hope you’ll be able to come to my talk on Saturday.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t miss it! Um, I know you probably get this all the time, but we were wondering—can I get your autograph? I have a pen around here somewhere, and some paper—”

A scramble in handbags for pen and paper ensued, and they found a little hotel notepad and a slightly fancier fountain pen soon enough. I gave them both autographs made out to them: Daisy and Rose. If the pair of them got any cuter I might have gagged. I put smiley faces under my signatures, and they squealed. How could I not smile back? They wandered away tittering, evidently happy.

I beamed after them until they turned a corner and were out of sight. Then I frowned.

“Is that weird to you, that neither of us sensed them coming?” I said. I couldn’t for the life of me remember what either of them smelled like. They should have smelled like something, even if it was overscented shampoo or soap.

Emma pursed her lips, worried. Because yeah, that was weird.

“Were they even human?” she asked.

We looked at each other, blinking in the same confusion. If they weren’t human, what were they?

Chapter 10

I WANTED TO enjoy the trip to Sevenoaks more than I did. Under the arcing glass and steel roof of Charing Cross Station, I once again had this bubbling wonderment of being caught in a movie. I got to ride on a train, into that green English countryside. I’d only ever been on a real cross-country train once, visiting my grandmother when I was a kid. But this trip was weighted by a lingering sense of anxiety. Amelia was returning home, and none of us knew what to expect.