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I’d had four years of training to develop the three components of vampire strength: physical, psychic, and strategic. I graduated a few months ago with a sociology degree—emphasis in sup-human relations—and now I was repaying my training the same way French vampires did, with a year of mandatory armed service for the House. It was a chance to see what I was made of, and to spend another year in the city I’d come to love.
I was three months into my service. Escorting delegates from Maison Dumas to Chicago for the peace talks was part of my work.
“How many suitcases are you bringing?”
I glanced at Seri with amusement. “Why? How many are you bringing?”
“Four.” Seri did not travel lightly.
“We’ll only be in Chicago for four days.”
“I have diplomatic responsibilities, Elisa.”
I sipped my champagne. “That’s what French vampires say when they pack too much. I have a capsule wardrobe.”
“And that is what American vampires say when they do not pack enough. You also have diplomatic responsibilities.”
“I have responsibilities to the House. That’s different.”
“Ah,” she said, smiling at me over the rim of her drink. “But which one?”
“Maison Dumas,”I said, in an accent that was pretty close to perfect. “I’m not going to Chicago on behalf of Cadogan House. It’s just a bonus.”
“I look forward to meeting your parents. And I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.”
“I’ll be glad to see them, too. It’s just—I’ve changed a lot in the last few years. Since the last time I went home.”
They’d visited Paris twice since I’d been gone, and we’d had fun walking through the city, seeing the sights. But I still felt like I’d been holding myself back from them. Maybe I always had.
“It’s not about you or Cadogan or Chicago,” I’d told my father, when we’d stood outside the private terminal at O’Hare, in front of the jet that would take me across the world. I’d been struggling to make him understand. “It’s about figuring out who I am.”
In Chicago, I was the child of Ethan and Merit. And it had been hard to feel like anything more than a reflection of my parents and my birth, which made me a curiosity for plenty of sups outside Cadogan House who treated me like a prize. And the possibility I might be able to bear children made me, at least for some, a prize to be captured.
I’d wanted to be something more, something different.... Something that was just me.
“You couldn’t fail us by living your life the way you want,” my father had said. “It’s your life to live, and you will make your own choices. You always have.”
He’d tipped my chin up with the crook of his finger, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“There are some decisions that we make, and some that aremade for us. Sometimes you accept the path that’s offered to you, and you live that path—that life—with grace. And sometimes you push forward, and you chart your own path. That decision is yours. It’s always been yours.
“I don’t want you to go, because I’m selfish. Because you are my child.” His eyes had burned fiercely, emeralds on fire. “But if this is your path, you must take it. Whatever happens out there, you always have a home here.”
He’d kissed my forehead, then embraced me hard.“Test your wings,”he’d quietly said. A suggestion. A request. A hope.“And fly.”
I had flown. And I’d read and walked and learned and trained, just like everyone else.
In Paris, I’d been just another vampire. And the anonymity, the freedom, had been exhilarating.
“We all carry expectations,” Seri said quietly, her eyes suddenly clouded. “Sometimes our own, sometimes others’. Both can be heavy.”
Seri came from what the European Houses called “good blood.” She’d been made by a Master vampire with power, with money, with an old name, and with plenty of cachet—and that mattered to French vampires. Seri had been the last vampire he’d made before his death, and those of his name were expected to be aristocrats and socialites. Unlike in the US, French vampires selected their own Houses. She’d picked Maison Dumas instead of Maison Bourdillon, the House of her Master. That hadn’t made her many friends among Bourdillon’s progeny, who decided she was wasting her legacy.
“Are you excited to see Chicago?” I asked her.
“I am excited to see the city,” she said, “if not optimistic about what will come of the talks. Consider Calais.”
The most recent attack had taken place in Calais a week ago. Vampires from Paris’s Maison Solignac had attacked MaisonSaint-Germaine because they believed they weren’t getting a big enough cut of the city port’s profits. In the process, four vampires and two humans had been killed.
