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"You went to the bank?" Schuyler asked, a little startled.
"I had to run a number of errands, yes. It's been a long time since I was in the city. Marvelous how the world has changed. One forgets that in Venice. Ran into several friends. Cushing Carondolet insisted I dine with him at the old club. I'm sorry, I would have come back earlier, but I had to find out what Charles has been up to in my absence."
"But what happened with The Committee?" Lawrence took a cigar out of his pocket and carefully lit it. "Oh, at the hearing?"
"Yes," Schuyler said impatiently, mystified by Lawrence's casual attitude.
"Well, they brought me into the Repository," Lawrence said. "I had to speak in front of the Conclave--the coven's highest leadership. Wardens, Elders. Enmortals like me." Enmortals were vampires who kept the same physical shell over the centuries, who had been given permission to be exempt from the cycle of sleeping and waking, otherwise known as reincarnation.
"Never seen such a sorry bunch," Lawrence said, pursing his lips in distaste. "Forsyth Llewellyn is a senator--did you know that? Back in Plymouth he was just Michael's lackey. It's a disgrace. And completely against the Code. It wasn't always so, you know. We have ruled before. But after the disaster in Rome, we agreed that taking positions of power in the human sphere was forever out of the question."
Schuyler nodded. Cordelia had told her as much.
"And they've kicked out the Carondolets from the Conclave, Cushing told me all about it. Because he had proposed a Candidus Suffragium."
"What is that?"
"The White Vote. For the leadership of the coven," Lawrence said, kicking off his banker's cap-toes and waving his stockinged feet in front of the fire.
"But I thought Michael--Charles--was Regis. Forever."
"Not quite," Lawrence said, flicking his ashes into an ashtray he had removed from his jacket pocket.
"No?"
"No. The coven is not a democracy. But it is not a monarchy either. We had agreed that leadership can be questioned if the coven feels the Regis has not led us properly. So the White Vote is called."
"Has there ever been a White Vote?"
"Yes." Lawrence sunk so low into the chair that only the smoke from his cigar was visible. "Once, in Plymouth."
"What happened?"
"I lost." Lawrence shrugged. "They banished Cordelia and me from the Conclave. Since then, we have held no power on the council. We bowed to their rule, and later on, around the time of the Gilded Age, we decided we had to separate."
"Why?" Schuyler asked.
"Cordelia told you we suspected that a high-ranking member of the Conclave was harboring the Silver Blood. I thought it would be safer for her if I disappeared for a while, so I could continue our investigation without The Committee knowing about it. We thought it was clever of us. But alas, it meant that I was not here when Allegra succumbed to her heartsickness. Or when you were born. And my work so far has been fruitless. I am no closer to confirming my suspicions than I was before."
"But what happened--why did they let you go free? I thought you were exiled."
Lawrence chuckled. "So did they. They had forgotten I went into exile voluntarily. I don't think any of them ever expected me to come back. They didn't really have much of a choice. I haven't broken any rules of the Code. There was no reason to prohibit my return. Still, because I have been gone for so long they demanded that I testify."
"Testify to what?"
"Oh, to promise not to question the Coven's leadership as I had once done. You know, call for another White Vote. They even reinstated my position on the Conclave, as long as I promised not to bring up the Silver Blood menace again. According to Charles, the Croatan threat has been contained, if it ever existed at all."
"Just because no one's died in the last three months," Schuyler said.
"Yes. They are blind as usual. The Silver Bloods are back. It was just as Cordelia and I had warned, so many years ago."
"But everything else is all right, then," Schuyler said hap- pily, not caring about the Croatan threat for the moment. "You're back, and they can't do anything about it."
He studied the fireplace sorrowfully. "Not quite. I have some bad news."
Schuyler's smile faded.
"Charles has informed me he is making plans to adopt you."
