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“You all right?” Lulu asked when I climbed into her car. “That looked like a pretty heated argument.”
“Just a difference of opinion.”
The car was silent and still while she looked me over, evaluated.
“That’s what you’re going with?”
“Yep.”
“All right, then. Buckle up, buttercup, and we’ll hit the road.”
“Can you take me back to the hotel? I need to check in with Seri.”
“Sure thing.”
We were halfway back when my screen beeped, signaling an incoming message.
I pulled it out, found Seri’s number. “Hey, Seri. What’s up?”
“We’re leaving, Lis.”
“What do you mean, leaving?”
“We’re going to the airport. Leaving Chicago tonight.”
“Who is we?”
“The delegates of France.”
I was floored. If the delegates walked away, that was it for the talks and the chance for peace. And I didn’t know where it left me.
“Seri, you can’t leave. Not now. If we want peace, we have to keep working at it. We can’t just walk away. That’s probably what they want, anyway—to break up the talks. We can’t give in, even if it’s dangerous.”
“Lis, there was no peace to find here. But there is work to be done at home.”
I needed to do something, although I had no idea what that would be. Because even if I wanted her to be wrong, I understood her fear. I had to believe she wasn’t right, that there was always a chance Europe’s vampires could put aside self-interest and think about the future.
“Just hold on, Seri. Okay? Wait for me at the airport.” I didn’t know what I’d do at the airport, how I’d make them change their minds. But I had to try.
There was silence for a moment, then: “I’ll stall as long as I can, Lis. But I must go.”
The call ended, and I stared at the screen for a moment, my mind racing like my emotions. Then I looked at Lulu. “I need a favor.”
• • •
Fifteen minutes later, Lulu squealed to a stop outside the private terminal. I climbed out of the car, a little shocked we hadn’t gotten crushed along the way, and ran inside.
It was late, and the building was empty. The plane waited outside. Seri and Odette, the only vampires in sight, were climbing the stairs.
“Ma’am?” asked the desk attendant as I blew past toward the door, then rushed outside and into a plume of heat and wind. “Ma’am!” she yelled, and I heard her chair squeak as the door slammed behind me.
I ran toward the plane. “Seri!”
She turned, a black pashmina around her shoulders, leatherleggings and black stilettos below. A dark ribbon held her hair at the nape of her neck, the long ends of grosgrain blowing in the wind.
“Attends,”she said, and offered her bag to Odette, then climbed down to the tarmac.
“Marion and Victor believe it is best to return,” she said. “The French delegates have voted, and we must abide by that decision.”
