Roberto’s house lay down a private drive, secluded by trees on all sides. Landscape lights illuminated the ground with a soft yellow glow a hundred feet in all directions, presumably for the thrall guards’ benefit. No vampire would desire such light pollution.
Antoine extended his senses, quickly locating his own thralls at the far tree line, and telling them to stay where they were.
Thralls in suits waited as they pulled up, armed with automatic weapons with watchful eyes and twitching trigger fingers. More than when the Curia itself had been in attendance, as though it were another show of strength. Belle ignored them as she got out, tugging her hood forward and keeping her head down. They walked to the main door as a thrall opened it, and Tobias met them inside.
“He’s in the basement,” he said, leading the way as though he owned the place.
The main room of the house was an open-plan arrangement with a few scattered sofas and a large meeting table in the center, set amid four columns. Two vampires watched with curiosity, both of them from peripheral territories north of Boston, neither with much influence. Lackeys hiding in Roberto’s shadow, maybe feeling safer here than in their own houses, after the free-for-all mandate the Curia had issued during their visit. If there had been conflict in the north suburbs, Antoine hadn’t heard about it.
A flight of stone steps led down to the basement where Antoine had been put on trial before the Curia. Tobias waited at the bottom by the door, and as they walked past, his hand reached up to sweep back Belle’s hood.
Antoine was faster, grabbing his wrist before it could make contact. “Don’t touch what’s not yours.”
Tobias curled his lip, jerking his hand free, but not before surprise flashed in his eyes at Antoine’s speed.
Belle hid her smile with a quick dip of her head, maintaining her role as a demure, intimidated chattel, and Antoine had to lean into his anger to suppress his amusement.
The basement ran the length of the house above, the low ceiling and stone walls exactly as Antoine remembered, but where five chairs had stood before, now there was only one. It was grander than those the Curia had used, a throne for a play-acting king.
Roberto sprawled in it, wearing a suit large enough to be called a tent, his bulging stomach barely contained by a white shirt stretched taut. There was muscle beneath the fat, his prodigious strength a thing of legend in Boston circles, though Antoine had never had first-hand experience. Not for the first time he wondered what nature of vampiric magic could result in such a form, when no other vampire managed an ounce of excess body fat. Perhaps Roberto had been even more corpulent before he had been turned, but either way, this was now his form for eternity.
Or at least until I kill him.
Antoine strode into the middle of the room, Belle keeping a half-pace behind him and to one side. “You sent for me?”
Small eyes in Roberto’s round face fixed him with a stare full of hatred. “The shortest entombment in vampiric history,” he drawled. “Next time, I’ll find somewhere deeper.”
Antoine crossed his arms and waited, while Tobias walked past him to stand by Roberto’s chair. It really was like a king and his jester, and the thought sent a flicker of a smile across his lips.
Roberto noticed. “You find that amusing?”
“I find various things amusing. However, perhaps we could get to the point?”
Roberto leaned forward slowly, resting one elbow on his knee. “You are very bold, Antoine. What makes you so bold, I wonder?”
If he already knew, he would’ve called out Belle as soon as she’d walked in. To not do so would’ve been the epitome of disrespect, not least because for all his strength, Belle’s was greater still. Antoine stayed silent.
“Perhaps you have powerful allies,” Roberto mused, as if he liked the sound of his own voice. Maybe he did know about Belle after all, even if he hadn’t yet recognized her presence. “Eitherway, something has given you courage where before you begged for your life on your knees.”
Antoine clenched his jaw. “If you summoned me merely to insult me, I assume this meeting is done.” He turned away, but Roberto spoke again.
“I claimjus dominiias Curia in Boston,” he said, his voice strong and echoing through the stone chamber.
“My Latin is rusty,” Antoine said, as Belle tensed, showing she recognized the phrase. A sense of dread built within him. What had Roberto found, if even Belle’s confidence was weakened? “You may have to elaborate.”
“The right of superior authority to take a chattel of my choice.” Roberto’s eyes flicked to Belle. He let a slow smile curl his pudgy lips, savoring his moment of triumph. “I’m sure I will find something…interestingto do with you.”
Antoine’s pulse thudded heavy in his ears; his fists clenched until his nails bit into his palms. This was no coincidence; Roberto’s monologue of power hadn’t referred to an ally, but to Cally herself. He knew. Somehow, he knew.
So that’s what would’ve happened if I’d brought her.
“I refuse.”
Roberto leaned back in his chair, sadistic delight glinting in his red eyes. “You can’t refuse.” He raised one hand and pointed at Belle. “Leave her, and go.”
“Can he do this?” he asked Belle. It was clear she knew; it was equally clear she’d been remiss on yet more of his education on vampiric laws.
It was Roberto who answered. “Of course I can. It may not be a custom practiced in centuries, but it’s still valid.” He smiled with his own hubris.
