I looked over to Thorne, who was staring out at the crowd, dancing to the music. His gaze was distant, a smile teasing at his thin lips. His thoughts were lost to another place and time.
“Who did you go to? Claudette?” I prodded. She had a reputation for sampling the children of the Ancients. I’d had the pleasure of visiting with her once. Luckily, it was a brief visit.
“Macaire.” Thorne blinked twice as if trying to free his thoughts of some old memories. “I was sent to help break in his newest Companion.” A smile blossomed on his thin, angular face, his fangs poking a little against his lower lip.
“Lucas is a fool,” I muttered under my breath.
“True,” he chuckled. Thorne stretched out his legs again, toying with a stray bottle cap on the tabletop. “He won’t survive long. He thinks too much on his own.”
It was a sad but true thought. Good servants did exactly what they were told and nothing more. You start thinking and trying to predict the needs of your master, and you’d get crushed when you made a mistake.
“Of course, Tabor said the same of you,” he continued.
My eyes jerked back to his face but I kept my expression blank. “That I think too much?”
“No, that you wouldn’t survive.” Thorne’s brown eyes seemed to dance with malicious glee for a second in the faint undulating light. “He said that without Jabari, the Coven would have killed you centuries ago.”
I had suspected this for a while, but to actually hear the words sent a chill down my spine. “I’m no threat to the Coven.” I tried to sound as if none of this made any difference to me.
“So you say, but Tabor is dead and a seat is still open on the Coven. I may be in London, but even I hear the occasional whispered thought or rumor.” He leaned forward, his chest nearly brushing the edge of the table. “Everyone is watching, waiting for you to make your move.”
Sitting up in the booth so my nose was mere inches from Thorne’s, I tightly gripped the edge of the table for balance. “Well, tell everyone that I don’t want it.”
“No, you just want the colonies.” He snickered, flopping back against the booth, his amusement unbroken. He elbowed Tristan once in the ribs, flashing him a wide grin that the other nightwalker didn’t return.
The colonies had become the last refuge for my kind. The Coven and the Ancients dominated Europe, Asia, and even down into Africa. South America had been abandoned by nightwalkers because of what happened at Machu Picchu…the death and pain that still lingered was too unpleasant, even for my kind.
That left the United States. It was an enticing place, with its lax morals, hypocritical philosophies, and fast lifestyles. In the West, all was still new and precious. It was an exciting place to be, especially when there was little to no threat of encountering an Ancient. I had been part of the wave of young ones to leave Europe in search of my own home, moving out from beneath the thumb of the Coven.
But the newness of the colonies was a curse as well. It lacked the history and long memory of Europe and Asia. The colonists didn’t realize that there were dark corners that should not be illuminated and questions that should not be asked. There was no doubt among my kind that when the Great Awakening arrived, it would start in the New World.
The nightwalkers in the States were different from those in Europe. We were younger on average, and quiet. The families were fewer and smaller in size. We did what we could to safeguard our secret. But our numbers were growing, and the Coven knew it. It didn’t help that I was one of the oldest among those across the ocean. There was some speculation of a coup, and my stubborn silence didn’t soothe any of the frayed, anxious nerves.
“I’m surprised the Coven has not come down on your head,” I said, desperate to change topics. I sat back in the booth and let my hands fall back into my lap. It was one thing to open the door to our world to Danaus; it was another to let him see into the politics. I didn’t want anything to do with the Coven. And I certainly didn’t want to play Keeper for all of the States. I just wanted my little city with its cramped alleys, trendy little bars, and quiet, tree-cloaked neighborhoods.
“For what?”
“Your little show.” I waved my arm to encompass the dimly lit pub filled to the brim with waiting victims.
Of course, I was sure part of the reason Thorne had been overlooked so far by our kind was because he’d settled in London. Between the wellspring of magic that had soaked into every inch of the island and the constant flow of witches and warlocks passing through the city, the whole place was a powder keg waiting for a careless match. No vampire stayed in the city long. If anything went wrong here, we all knew a vampire would play the scapegoat. Few older vampires would hang around, and definitely not long enough to bother with him.
“You know it’s our law to stay in the shadows and never reveal yourself to more people than necessary,” I continued. “I’d wager this crowd is a little more than necessary.”
“Why?” Sitting up, Thorne crushed the bottle cap between two fingers and dropped it on the table. “Why keep hiding? These humans have seen more horrible things in their lives than us. I’ve seen monsters in their movies and on their newscasts that were ten times worse than what I’ve done. It’s time they knew.”
“It’s not for you to decide.”
He hit his fist on the edge of the table, knocking over his empty mug. “Then who?”
“I don’t know. It’s coming, but not yet. There is more at stake than just the nightwalkers. There are things these humans aren’t ready to face.”
“I don’t think they’ll have much choice. Besides, they accept me.”
“They think you’re a fraud,” I reminded him. Slouched in the booth, I tried to avoid kicking Danaus in the shin, but the booth was crowded with long legs.
“Not for long. It’s time we stepped forward. Let them bask in our power. I’m tired of hiding.”
“But it’s what we are, what we’ve always been. We are just shadows and nightmares to these creatures. Nothing more.” I recited words I had heard a hundred times over. I sounded old even to my ears. My rationale was a tired one, clinging to the ways of my kind. I had seen this longing in many of the younger ones as they walked among the humans. Movies were made about us, with only small nuggets of truth permeating their depths. Humans gobbled up books about nightwalkers and magic users, looking for an escape from the mundane. But what if they woke up one morning and realized those things that thrilled and secretly enticed them were real and living next door? Would they still look at us with the same interest, or would we become vermin to be exterminated, like rats or cockroaches?
“Yeah, but it’s like you said. It’s coming.”
“Enough!” I shouted, scratching my nails on the table, picking up a gooey layer of grime underneath them, causing me to grimace. Watching Thorne peripherally, I began to clean out my nails with a matchbook lying in the center of the table. “None of this matters. It’s not why I’ve come. What did Tabor tell you of the naturi?”
At the mention of the naturi, Thorne stiffened beside me.
“He rarely spoke of them and only when he was in a black mood,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper as he gripped the edge of the table. “It was always at the same time of year; new moon in the middle of summer. He would stay locked away in his private rooms for several nights on end.” His accent had grown thicker and older again.
I paused. “What did he tell you?”
“Nothing that made any sense. Just that if I ever saw one, I was to run. Don’t try to fight. Just run.” He raised haunted eyes to my face. I understood his fear. Tabor was not only his master and creator, but had been an Ancient and an Elder on the Coven. Thorne knew that for something to unnerve Tabor so thoroughly, it had to be bad.