“Sure.” Eve gave him a smile more natural than Cally’s had been.
“Thank you both for staying in your rooms this afternoon,” Darian said, as he escorted them downstairs. “I apologize if it was dull.”
“I spent it reading, and it wasn’t dull at all,” Eve replied, playing well into the cooperative role.
“How did you know we didn’t go exploring?” Cally couldn’t resist digging.
Darian turned to her, eyes sparkling with his amusement. “We have cameras.”
“Cameras?” Cally echoed, her voice tight as she wondered where they’d hidden them.
“We take security here very seriously, for obvious reasons.” He seemed to realize what he’d implied, and paused. “I assure you both, on my honor, there are no cameras in your rooms.”
He hadn’t said anything about microphones, and Cally knew Eve had caught the same implication. Still, it was curious to hear him talking about ‘honor,’ like it mattered to him.
“What’s a ‘sentinel’?” Cally asked. The custodian in the library had used that title.
“My rank. Mr. Alexander is the Primus Vigil, and as the Sentinel, I report to him.”
She wanted to make a comment about secret societies and their over-inflated job titles, but she bit her tongue.
Behave. I can do that for a few more hours, right?
Darian led them into a large dining room with a dark-wood theme and lush carpets, while a gentle piano concerto played from hidden speakers. Candles lent soft lighting and a faint scent of smoke. Against the walls, two unsmiling attendants stood at something close to parade rest, their military bearing unmistakable.
A long table that could easily seat twenty ran the length of the room; four place settings were arranged at its center, and Mr. Alexander rose from one as they entered. Like Darian, he wore a suit, though it didn’t look nearly as good on him.
“Ah! How wonderful to see you again.” He gave his insincere smile. “I must admit, the anticipation of this dinner made my afternoon more enjoyable.”
Darian showed Eve to the empty chair beside Mr. Alexander, then joined Cally on the other side, taking the seat next to her. She sat uneasily, conscious of the quiet watchers, the ostentatious surroundings and elaborate place settings, each with tiers of cutlery and wine glasses. They may have been used to eating in such a space, but it made Cally uncomfortable. The air felt thick, stifling, as if the opulence were designed to trap her.
Mr. Alexander waited until they were seated, then resumed his seat. Waiting staff appeared with bottles of red and white, but Cally covered her glass with her hand and asked for water. Eve accepted a glass of red wine, taking a sip as she pointedly met Cally’s eyes.
“I hope you found your rooms satisfactory,” Mr. Alexander offered while the drinks were served.
“Lovely, thank you,” Cally said stiffly, trying to make an effort. “The candles are a nice touch.”
“Well, it’s a little refinement, isn’t it? Important to keep such things in mind while we fight monsters.”
Cally thought of Antoine’s timeless French charm and Gabe listening to Chopin, and smiled politely.
“Indeed.” Eve spoke up when it was apparent Cally wasn’t going to reply. “It’s important to remember our priorities.”
The subtle dig was a needed reminder, and Cally tried again. “Thank you for hosting us today. It has been most… informative.”
“You’re very welcome,” Mr. Alexander replied. “But let’s eat, and we can talk afterwards.”
The food arrived, and Cally received a tomato salad, while the others had Parma ham and melon. She noted the difference in silence, but Mr. Alexander leaned forward.
“You are vegetarian, are you not?”
“How thoughtful,” she replied neutrally, wondering who they’d spoken to, and what else they’d learned.
“We did a little digging this afternoon. I admit, it was partly out of an infantile desire to impress.”
“And an infantile approach to privacy.”
His lips twitched. “In our line, one can never be too careful.”
