Blood Bound by Patricia Briggs Page A

for Lilly, the pianist, but she didn’t appear.
    My eyes swung past an old man with wisps of gray hair decorating his head. Unlike werewolves, vampires kept the appearance they had when they died. Even though he appeared ancient, I could be looking at the youngest vampire in the room.
    I glanced at his face and realized that unlike the others in the room, he was watching me. He licked his lips and I took a step toward him before I managed to drop my gaze to the floor.
    Werewolves might lock eyes for dominance purposes, but they couldn’t take over your mind if you held their gaze. Being a walker was supposed to keep that from happening, but I’d certainly felt the pull of his gaze.
    A dark haired, young-seeming man with narrow shoulders had entered the room while I’d been playing peekaboo with the old man. Like Stefan, he was more human-seeming than most. It was his clothing more than his face that I remembered. If Andre wasn’t wearing the same pirate shirt that he’d been in the night I’d met him, he was wearing its twin. Once he’d taken a seat in one of the plush chairs near the center of the room, he, unlike the other vampires, looked at me directly and smiled in a friendly fashion. I didn’t know him well enough to know if he was friend or foe.
    Before I could decide how to return his greeting, Marsilia, Mistress of the Mid-Columbia Seethe, came into the room. She wore a brilliant red, Spanish-style riding skirt with a frilly white blouse and a black shawl that suited her blond hair and dark eyes better than I’d have thought it would.
    She walked with fluid grace, unlike the last time I’d seen her. Of all the vampires in the room, Marsilia was the only one who was beautiful. She took her time arranging her skirts before she sat down in the chair in the center of the semicircle. Her red skirts clashed badly with the chair’s coral fabric. I don’t know why that made me feel better.
    She stared at us—no, at the werewolves, with an avid, almost hungry gaze. I remembered her with Samuel and wondered if she had a preference for werewolves. It had been because of a werewolf, Stefan had told me, that she’d been exiled from Italy. Vampires didn’t have any rules against feeding from a werewolf, but the wolf she’d taken had been the property of a more powerful and higher-ranking vampire.
    Ben and Warren, both, had the sense to keep their eyes averted from hers. It would have been instinctive to meet her gaze and try to stare her down, instinctive and disastrous.
    Finally Marsilia’s voice, deep and lightly accented, broke the silence. “Go and retrieve Stefan. Tell him his pet made it here and we are tired of waiting.”
    I couldn’t tell who she was talking to, she was still staring at Warren—on whom she had gradually focused in preference to Ben—but Andre stood up and said, “He’ll want to bring Daniel.”
    â€œDaniel is being punished. He cannot be brought out.” The vampire who spoke sat directly on Marsilia’s left. He wore a buff-colored, nineteenth-century businessman’s suit, complete with pocket watch and blue-striped silk waistcoat. His moustache was striped like his waistcoat, though in brown and silver. He’d combed his hair back over a small balding spot on the top of his head.
    Marsilia’s mouth tightened. “Your aspirations to the contrary, I still rule here, Bernard. Andre, bring Daniel as well.” She glanced around the room. “Estelle, go with him. Daniel might be difficult.”
    The middle-aged woman in her beaded flapper gown stood up abruptly as if someone had pulled on a string above her. As she moved, her beads made a soft chattering sound that reminded me of a rattlesnake. I couldn’t remember them making any noise at all when she’d first come into the room.
    Andre gave me a small, reassuring smile that no one else could see as he walked by. Estelle