“Some of them were too beautiful to be real, like they’d walked out of a wet dream,” Dev said.
“Others looked ordinary,” Nathaniel said, “but there was always something about them that wasn’t quite . . . human normal.”
“Auntie Nim came and offered her own blood,” said Dev.
“Really?” I said.
“Her and her people,” Nathaniel said.
“They made you nervous,” I said, shaking Nathaniel’s hand.
He nodded without looking at me.
“What’s wrong?”
“They liked us, me because I had blond hair and him because his was dark red. When I said, ‘Where are all the Irish redheads you see in movies?’ they said, ‘In fairyland, because we stole them away.’”
“Nathaniel, are you worried they’ll steal you away?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, Anita. It’s the first magic that’s really . . . unnerved me, I guess.”
“They kept asking him if he was one of theirs, like his ancestors had gone to America or something,” Dev said.
“They said that only one of them would have flower-colored eyes.”
“You’re wondering if they’re right,” I said.
He looked at me with those lilac-colored eyes. “I don’t know anything about my family really, Anita; for all I know, one of my ancestors could be from here.”
“Why does that bother you? Most people would love to have some fairy blood in them, or royalty.”
“I don’t know, but it’s like I can feel something inside me that isn’t my leopard now. It’s like something’s awake that I didn’t even know was asleep.”
“Flannery says that his magic only works really well here; if you have blood ties to Ireland maybe that’s true for you, too,” I said.
He looked at me, startled. “You mean I could be a . . . what, a Fairy Doctor?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“They liked Nathaniel,” Dev said. “They kept touching his hair, his arm, the way people do when they’re flirting.”
“You like flirting,” I said.
“Normally, but this felt more . . . It wasn’t flirting, Anita, not the way we think of it, but we couldn’t have saved nearly the vampires we did if they hadn’t come to help.”
“One of them called it a debt of honor,” Dev said.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Damian moved up closer behind us, hugging us both lightly around the shoulders. “It means that something about what’s happened makes them feel they owe the help to the city, or to Flannery, or to the victims themselves.”
“Why would they feel that?” I asked.
“I don’t know. The few that I met over the centuries were very mysterious and kept their secrets better than most vampires.”
“Why did She-Who-Made-You do this? What did it gain her?” Nathaniel asked, in a whisper. It was that kind of room; you just couldn’t raise your voice.
“She’s a night hag; they feed on terror the way that Jean-Claude feeds on lust. She has feasted on the fear of her victims and the entire city’s panic,” Damian said.
“I knew some master vamps could feed on fear, but let me just say, I’m happy to be on Jean-Claude’s team. I’d rather be with a vampire that feeds on blood and lust than terror, or anger, or violence and death like some of the other bloodlines,” Dev said. He was standing a little to one side, behind Nathaniel. Everyone else who wasn’t either talking to the Irish about helping vampires, killing vampires, or our political future here, or healing themselves, was outside in the corridor waiting to come rushing in if we yelled for reinforcements.
Nathaniel leaned back and offered a kiss, which Dev happily took, though he was careful not to touch Damian’s hand where it curled around Nathaniel’s shoulder. Honestly, I’d expected Damian to move out of the way; the fact that he didn’t was interesting, but not as interesting as the problem in front of us, which was the Irish vampires.
“What can we do to help them and stop her?” I said.
“Let us go somewhere else for this discussion. They seem unconscious, but they’re still her vampires,” Damian said.
“You think she could use them to eavesdrop,” I said.
“I do,” he said, and turned for the door behind us, turning us because he still had his hands on our shoulders. We didn’t argue with the movement. I think we were all ready to get out of this room, but as Damian herded us toward the door he stumbled. Dev caught his arm and we turned to help. It was hard to tell in the dim light with someone as pale as Damian, but he looked especially pale. My stomach cramped suddenly so hard it almost doubled me over. Nathaniel’s breath was coming too fast as he said, “What was that?”
“Shit, he hasn’t fed.”
“How have you not fed and not tried to tear anyone up?” Dev asked.
“Centuries of practice,” our vampire said.
“Could you teach them that kind of control?” Dev asked.
“In time, some of them, but not everyone wants to control their lust for blood, or is capable of doing so. There was one of her other vampires that specialized in the most violent feedings I’ve ever seen. He literally tore his food apart, limb from limb. He didn’t want to control the violence inside him. He wanted to let it out every night if she would allow it.” He swayed in place. Dev tightened his grip on his arm. I tightened mine on the other. Nathaniel squeezed his hand tighter.