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I walked through my mental list of the European Houses, the delegates. “Germany?” I guessed.
“Nailed it,” he said.
My parents walked in, my father in a crisp tuxedo, my mother in a sleeveless black sheath that fell to mid-calf, her hair around her shoulders. They were holding hands, my father whispering something that had my mother grinning. Her response had him rolling his eyes.
“They seem well matched,” Theo said.
“I think they are.” I looked at him. “Are you here with someone?”
“Me? No, I’m single.” He smiled, but his brow was furrowed. “I’m not really looking. Career is first for me. What about you? The media loves to speculate about Cadogan’s princess.”
“That’s just clickbait,” I said. “I’m single, too, and not really looking, either. Ditto the career thing.”
“Sounds like we have a lot in common.”
I had a feeling he meant exactly that. No more and no less.
I hadn’t known Theo for longer than an hour, but there was something about him I liked. Something honest and unpretentious. After living with vampires for twenty-three years, that was a characteristic I could appreciate.
“Yeah,” I said. “It sounds like we do.”
“Good evening,” my father said when they reached us, then bent to kiss my cheek. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you. You look very dashing, as always.” I gestured to Theo. “Theo, have you met my parents?”
“Hello, Theo,” my mother said, holding out a hand. “We met at the barbecue.”
“Sure, sure,” Theo said, and shook hands with her, then my father.
“Barbecue?” I asked.
“Your great-grandfather’s annual event,” my mother said.
The downside of living in Paris was missing family events. “Did he make the red coleslaw?”
“He did,” my mother said with a grin, and I sighed balefully.
Theo slanted me a look. “That was a pretty serious sigh for coleslaw. I mean, no one actually eats the coleslaw, do they? It’s just for show, right?”
“You obviously didn’t try the coleslaw,” my mother said, clucking her tongue.
Obviously baffled, Theo looked at my father. “But... it’s coleslaw. What am I missing?”
My father slid his hands into his pockets. “I decline the invitation to debate coleslaw again. And I strongly suggest you walk away, as well. Debating food with the Merit family is a war you cannot win.”
Theo still looked baffled, but he was smiling. Which I figured was just about the correct reaction.
“The coleslaw was fantastic as always,” my mother said, ending the argument. “And the Pack supplied the meat this year. It was great. You should check out the new office while you’re in town. It’s impressive. And Lulu’s painting a mural at Little Red.”
“She told me,” I said.
Lulu Bell was my best friend, and the daughter of my mother’s best friend, Mallory Carmichael Bell. Unlike Mallory, Lulu didn’t do magic. But she did art in a big way. She’d taken classes at the Art Institute, led her high school art club, and had gotten a degree from a fancy design school on the East Coast. Now she worked as a freelance painter and illustrator; the bigger the image, the better. Little Red was the Pack’s bar, situated in a corner of the city’s Ukrainian Village neighborhood.
“I let her know I got here safe, and I’m going to try to get over there tomorrow,” I said. “Is Uncle Malik coming tonight?” Ilooked around again. I’d seen two of Chicago’s Masters—Morgan Greer and Scott Grey—in the crowd. But the fourth was a no-show so far.
Malik had been my father’s second-in-command until he’d gotten his own House three years ago. Malik and his wife, Aaliyah, had been the only other married couple in Cadogan House while I’d lived there. My father’s siblings were long gone, and we hadn’t visited my mother’s side of the family very often, so Malik and Aaliyah had been my family.
“Not tonight,” my father said. “He took point on preparations at the theater for the session tomorrow.”
