Anastasia assured him she’d be there, but offered no reply to his warning about Lena. He hadn’t expected one.
There was no point arriving early, and Belle had insisted Cally look the part. She shepherded her upstairs, Cally throwing a helpless look over her shoulder as she went. With similar builds and only an inch between them in height, Belle’s wardrobe offered possibilities, and it would take them a while to get ready.
Antoine returned home via the smashed skylight, and changed into something more fitting: a tailored light blue suit over a white shirt, open at the collar. Gabe was in a suit, so a tux felt like overkill. He returned well before Cally re-emerged.
She descended the stairs with her jaw clenched, as if she’d spent the last two hours gritting her teeth. No doubt she resented being styled by the vampire who had killed her mother, but Belle knew what she was doing. The emerald velvet column dress Cally wore clung like a second skin, her blonde hair smoothed into loose waves, eyes shadowed in plum and rimmed silver, bringing out the steel in their gray. His gaze lingered, and at his reaction, her tense mouth softened into a beautiful smile.
The dress might not have been her style, but vampires reveled in performance, and he had no doubt Cally would rise to that challenge.
“Ma chérie,it would be my honor to escort you to the ball,” he said, deciding that a courtly bow was justified.
A delighted laugh escaped her. “Sharp suit. You clean up well too, monsieur.”
The night was cloudy and the rain had passed, the ground still wet, reflecting the light. It was bitterly cold and Cally’s dress offered little protection, but they wouldn’t be out for long. They took Belle’s car; his Audi only had two seats and was probably impounded again. He and Gabe sat up front. Tobias rode in the trunk, carefully chained up.
It was the early hours of the morning by the time they arrived at Roberto’s house, and the driveway was already full of cars.
“We’re late,” Cally said from behind him, a hint of worry in her tone.
“No,ma chérie, we are deliberately arriving last.”
“Making an entrance,” Belle added with her usual amusement. “Vampires love drama.”
Roberto’s thralls were out in force, armed as always, and Cally’s hand settled on his shoulder as he put the car into park. “Won’t they just shoot you?”
“To do so would be the height of bad manners.”
“Are we crediting Roberto with good manners?” She didn’t seem particularly reassured.
He turned in his seat far enough to give her a smile. “Your point is valid, but Roberto knows how the game is played, and opening fire is not it. Besides, if they tried, we would be well within our rights to kill them all. Roberto would lose face, and a fair proportion of his thralls. He’d be far more concerned about the former than the latter.”
He reached up and gave her hand a pat, then opened his door, Gabe and Belle following suit. Cally took a breath then got out too, giving the area a lazy once-over, as if she didn’t even see the thralls. From anxiety to affected disinterest—her strength always delighted him.
“Perfect,ma chérie,” Antoine murmured as he offered her an arm. “Have I mentioned how ravishing you look, and how much ravishing will occur when this evening is finally concluded?”
She lay her hand on his forearm, a spot of color high on her cheeks at his words. “You get through this without dying, and you can ravish me as much as you want.”
“Your terms are acceptable.”
Gabe adjusted the cuff of his dark suit, then fetched Tobias from the trunk, holding a chain that ran around his neck like a leash, and looped several times around his body, securing his arms to his sides. His legs were free so he could walk, and he showed no signs of his earlier injury.
Belle hung back, waiting for them, looking as bored as she always did, as if everything was beneath her. He knew it to be the show it was, but she did it so artfully that it was convincing every time. She’d chosen a dress in ivory satin that hugged her curves, any suggestion of virginal innocence undercut by a daring neckline and the vivid scarlet on her lips. Her raven hair fell in a luxurious sweep over one shoulder, half braided, half loose, a sharp counterpoint to the pale fabric.
Antoine led Cally toward the main door, shortening his steps to match hers, Gabe and Belle falling in behind. She cast him a grateful look, and her throat tightened as she swallowed. Then irritation flashed across her face and she looked away as though she were angry at herself for showing any weakness, her back straightening and her chin coming up.
Who else would stroll into a house full of vampires with such courage?
Antoine straightened his own spine, letting his anger fill him with cold resolve. This wasn’t a social event; he was here to end the threat of Roberto, if only to keep Cally safe. Her strength was his strength too, and together, they were formidable.
“Open it,” he said curtly to the thrall by the door, and kept walking. If the man didn’t oblige, Antoine would simply kick it in. Belle was right: vampires loved an entrance, and some drama. But the man hastened to obey, and Antoine walked straight through into the wide, open-plan ground floor of Roberto’s house, Cally at his side.
It was like it had been when the Curia came to visit. Vampires from all over Greater Boston waited within, though their numbers were clearly less than for the last gathering. Maybe that was because some hadn’t come, or weren’t well enough connected to hear of this last-minute session, but he suspected they were missing for other, more permanent, reasons: the effectof the Curia’s edict. Matteo, Minh, Nico—they weren’t the only ones absent.
Roberto lounged in a chair at the head of the large meeting table, a few of the other seats filled. Anastasia had one of them, as befit her age and rank, with Lena sitting beside her. That meant nothing either way; Anastasia was too savvy to tip her hand. Valeria stood poised against one of the nearby pillars with feline grace and watched him approach, her gaze hungry and unsettling.
Various vampires at the edges of the room came forward, sensing the entertainment was about to begin. Tobias’s appearance had caused a stir, but Belle more so, as she was recognized by all.
“The Outcast arrives,” Roberto said lazily. “I thought you’d be busy packing, but instead you’ve called a party.” He leaned forward, resting one arm on the edge of the table. “Lady d’Aubigny. Still here, then? And still in the company of an outcast. One might wonder why.”
