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At least until Sorcha had inadvertently given the fairies a much-needed jolt.
Sorcha was the evil sorceress who destroyed my grandfather’s building. She was a beautiful and wealthy woman who’d hidden her magic and then used it to make a bid to take over the city. Herfirst defeat at Towerline created a lot of powerful emotions in Chicago. Unwilling to accept her defeat, she figured out how to gather up those emotions, spark that collection with magic, and create a new being.
That creature was the Egregore. Then she’d made the Egregore physically manifest, putting it into the form of a dragon that my parents later defeated. Using a spell created by Lulu’s mother, the Egregore’s magic was bound into my mother’s sword, the power imprisoned in the blade. The spell inadvertently bound me, then only a tiny nub of life, to my mother.
Sorcha’s alchemy had been complicated, and one of its side effects was a wash of magic over the city while she gathered up all those emotions. Sups who were already healthy, like vampires and shifters, noticed the magic but hadn’t been physically affected by it. But it had given fairies an obvious boost. They looked younger and stronger, they’d been able to have children, and they’d become more public because they had the strength to leave the tower. They’d abandoned their narrow tower for a home they’d built along the Chicago River, an enormous stone building modeled after England’s Bodiam Castle.
I’d even seen Claudia naked and strategically positioned on the cover ofVogue. But they looked older now, too, as if the last few years had done damage. Maybe they were beginning to age again, or maybe the cover shot had been airbrushed and we were seeing the fairies tonight in their true and honest skin.
I was watching Claudia when her companion turned his head and met my gaze.
Magic rose, cold and heavy as iron. Magic that pulled and enticed, because that was the nature of fairy power, the reason why fairy tales always mentioned hapless villagers being lured away into the woods or across the moors. Fairies had drawn them near.
But for all that power, I had the distinct impression he wasn’t looking at me, but through me—as if he could see past skin andbone and vampire to the magic that lurked there. I didn’t want anyone, much less an enemy of Cadogan House, seeing that.
There was a sharp burst of magic—a slice of power—and the man’s gaze slid back to the runway in front of him. Claudia, I guessed, hadn’t liked his dawdling, and she’d snapped him back into line. And then they continued down the runway and disappeared into the crowd.
“Do you know them?” I asked Theo when they were gone and the magic had dissipated. “The fairies?”
Theo shook his head. “I’ve seen them at events, but haven’t talked to them. They tend to stick with other fairies. Whatever her hierarchy, and you can bet she has one, humans aren’t even close to the top. They’re fascinating, though, aren’t they? It’s easy to understand how people were lost to the green land.”
The green land was the fairies’ ancestral home.
“Yeah,” I said, and crossed my arms, still feeling the chill from the fairies’ magic. And not sad they’d moved away.
• • •
My grandparents were wealthy socialites. My parents were diplomatic and well connected. Because of that, I’d been to plenty of parties over the years, and I usually enjoyed them. I liked the food, the chatting, the people-watching. But it had been a long night. Jet lag was giving me a headache, and my brain was getting logy. I watched Seri and Marion for some sign that they were slowing down, and hoped the party wouldn’t go until dawn.
One more glass of golden champagne and I’d slump a little too far toward relaxed, so I switched to caffeine. There was a lonely silver tureen on a buffet table along the wall, so I flipped the spout and let coffee spill into a paper cup, added a splash of milk and sugar.
And I turned to find Claudia’s companion standing beside me. I barely managed not to jerk and spill scalding liquid across my hand.
He stood, tall and lean, in a puddle of magic that spilled around our feet like fog, invisible but tangible.
“I am Ruadan.”
“Elisa,” I said.
“You are interesting,” he said. “Unique among vampires.”
“Not so interesting.”
“Oh, I would disagree. You are the first bloodletter born of blood, not merely transformed by it. The first bloodletter who was never human.”
Calling us bloodletters was derogatory, but not a surprise. It was the term that fairies used to describe vampires. And if a human had said I’d never been human, they’d likely have meant it as an insult. But his voice held curiosity and interest.
“I’m a vampire,” I confirmed.
He looked me over again, and again I didn’t care for the feeling.
“And you’re Claudia’s companion?” I asked, voice flat.
“We do not subscribe to human notions of romantic companionship. I am her consort, if she wills it.”
I had the sense he didn’t want to discuss it. Nevertheless, I persisted. “And does she will it?”
“I am honored to have been chosen for several cycles.” His eyes flashed. “But that does not concern you, bloodletter.”
