“No more tea.” Alexia was quite decided on this point.
The countess looked from her to her sister. “Remarkable, isn’t it? Sisterhood, I mean. One would never guess it to look at you.”
Alexia rolled her eyes, let go of the countess’s arm, and gave her a look of mild reproach. “My sister cannot possibly have been an effective spy.”
The vampire queen shrugged and reached for her tea—the ordinary kind. She sipped at the bone china cup delicately, taking no pleasure or sustenance from the beverage.
Waste of perfectly good tea, thought Alexia. She looked at Felicity. But, then, the countess probably thought Felicity was a waste of perfectly good blood.
Her sister assumed a dramatically relaxed pose atop the tea trolley, her face petulant.
Alexia reached for a treacle tartlet and popped it into her own mouth.
“You have been conducting some interesting investigations recently, Lady Maccon,” said the vampire queen slyly. “Something to do with your father’s past, if what your sister has relayed is true. And a ghost. I know you are adverse to my advice, but trust me, Lady Maccon, it would be best not to delve too deeply into Alessandro Tarabotti’s records.”
Alexia thought about Floote, who always seemed to know more about her father than he was willing to tell her. Or was allowed to tell her.
“Did you vampires somehow have my father classified? Do you have my butler under a gag order? And now you are corrupting my sister. Really, Countess Nadasdy, why go to such lengths?” Lady Maccon put her hand back onto the vampire queen’s arm, turning her mortal once more.
The countess flinched but did not pull away. “Really, Lady Maccon, must you? It’s a most unsettling sensation.”
At which juncture Lord Ambrose turned and saw what was occurring on the couch.
“Let go of her, you soul-sucking bitch!” He charged across the room.
Alexia let go and raised her parasol.
“Now, Ambrose, no harm done.” The countess sounded placid but her fangs were showing slightly.
Felicity was looking back and forth between the players around her with increasing befuddlement on her pretty face. Since Felicity often wore such a look whenever attempting to understand any conversation not directly concerning herself, Alexia saw no reason to explain. The last thing Felicity needed to know was that her older sister was anything more than a bother. That is, assuming Felicity still doesn’t know I’m preternatural. Right now it’s difficult to put anything past her.
Lord Ambrose looked as though he would very much like to strike Lady Maccon.
Still holding the parasol at the defensive, Alexia reached inside her reticule and withdrew Ethel. She then lowered the parasol to reveal the gun now pointed at the vampire.
“Back away a little, if you would, Lord Ambrose. You are making me feel most unwelcome.”
Lord Ambrose did as he was told with a snorted, “You are unwelcome.”
“Do I have to keep reminding everyone? I had an invitation!”
“Alexia, you have a gun!” exclaimed Felicity, horrified.
“Yes.” Lady Maccon relaxed back into the settee and allowed the gun to waver slightly over toward the countess. “I should warn you, Lord Ambrose, my aim is not very accurate.”
“And is that gun loaded with?.?.?.??” He did not finish the sentence. He did not need to.
“I should never, of course, admit to the fact that Ethel here is equipped with sundowner bullets. But a few may have accidentally made it from my husband’s stock into my own. Can’t imagine how.”
Lord Ambrose backed farther away.
Alexia looked with annoyance at her sister. “Get off the tea trolley, Felicity, do. What a place for a young lady to be sitting. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you are in?”
Felicity sniffed. “You sound just like Mama.”
“Yes, well, you are beginning to act like Mama!”
Felicity gasped.
Lord Ambrose made a move forward, thinking Lady Maccon’s attention distracted.
Ethel swung once more toward the countess. Alexia’s hand was remarkably steady. “Ah, ah, ah.”
The vampire backed away again.
“Now,” said Alexia, “I do so hate to do this to you all. But really, our safest bet would be to get out of here. And quickly.”
The countess shook her head. “You may leave, of course, Lady Maccon, but—”
“No, no, both of us, I insist.”
“Foolish child,” said the Duke of Hematol, coming back into the room. “How can anyone know so little of vampire edict and sit the Shadow Council? Our queen cannot leave this house. It is not a matter of choice—it is a matter of physiology.”
“She could swarm.” Lady Maccon swung her gun once more toward the vampire queen.
Lord Ambrose hissed.
Lady Maccon said, “Go on, Countess, swarm. There’s a good vampire.”
The duke let out an annoyed sigh. “Save us all from the practicality of soul-suckers. She can’t swarm on command, woman. Queens don’t just up and swarm when told they have to. Swarming is a biological imperative. You might as well tell someone to spontaneously combust.”
Alexia looked at Lord Ambrose. “Really? Would that work on him?”
At which juncture the most tremendous crash reverberated through the house, and guests at the party below started screaming.
The octomaton had arrived.
Lady Maccon gestured with her gun in an arbitrary manner. “Now will you swarm?”