Here Be Monsters [2] by Phaedra Weldon Page A

her own gun tucked snuggly into the back of her pants. If there was a pat-down, they were both in trouble.  
    But Oberon seemed pretty sure nothing like that would happen.  
    They stopped at the door and Oberon knocked. Several minutes passed before a canned, electronic voice said, "Name."  
    Siobhan and he looked at one another. She shrugged and said, "Siobhan O'Donnell." Why lie?  
    A few more seconds passed before the door clicked and popped inward. Oberon gave her a "I'm going first" look and pushed the door further in while his other hand shot out in a protective path in front of Siobhan.  
    A small, dark hallway descended downward at a rather steep decline, and someone had turned the sound on. What couldn't be heard from the outside was staggeringly audible just past the door. Loud, throbbing music that Siobhan felt against the soles of her feet and moved up to her ribcage.  
    She followed behind him, her senses on high alert. She smelled sweat.  
    And blood.  
    Lots of blood.  
    They rounded two more corners in opposite directions before the small hallway opened up into an underground warehouse setting. Lights twisted and blinked and pulsed above them in multi-colors. Smoke hung in an ominous cloud overhead, as people bounced in time to the thudding music.  
    She could sense about twenty vampires, and a lot of humans.  
    Oberon took her hand—and she gasped. Siobhan hadn't realized how quickly she'd been caught up in the frenzy of free blood and booze. Feeling his warm skin, and his pulse through his grip—she tried to pull away.  
    "You have to keep your head in here, Siobhan," Oberon leaned in close to her. "I need you in this. Please?"  
    She heard him over the music and the voices and nodded. Several deep breaths and she allowed him to lead her through the throng of dancers, past the DJ on the platform in the center of the floor, to a roped off area near the back.  
    A man in a long tail tuxedo nodded to them and automatically opened the velvet rope. "The Mistress is expecting you."  
    Siobhan wasn't too happy to hear that but this time she proceeded Oberon past the guard and through a door. She knew he was safe from being a snack. After all—his blood was lethal.  
    Unsure what to expect, Siobhan was a bit surprised to find herself in what looked like a board room. The walls were wood and stained to a medium oak. The floor was also hard wood and well treated. In the center was a long oval table with twelve chairs around it .
    Twelve to represent the twelve of the city's council.  
    At the head of the table sat the oldest vampire Siobhan had ever known. She'd never met her, never spoken to her, but she was very much aware of her.  
    As were all the vampires in Chicago.  
    Her name was Marion St. Clair and she ruled the shadows of the city. No vampire wanted to be directly in her line of sight. Siobhan had heard she could kill with merely a thought—her age was that great. And she had to admit, she felt that power the moment she'd stepped inside the building.  
    Actually seeing St. Clair—
    "Siobhan O'Donnell. It is a pleasure to meet you."  
    —was a bit, disconcerting.  
    Marion looked as if she were ten, with short trimmed red hair and very bright golden eyes. Her skin glowed in the light of the room, cast by a high-mantled fireplace to Siobhan's left, on the opposite side of the table. The roaring fire made it very warm in the room.  
    Oberon seemed most affected by that fact and made a motion to unfasten his jacket.  
    They were instantly surrounded by thirteen black clad shadows.  
    "Please, Valmont," St. Clair said in her childish voice. "Relax. I am sure the former captain is simply…uncomfortable?"  
    Oberon nodded and the shadows melted back into the room's corners. Siobhan recognized them. Vampire assassins known as The Cíké . They were taken as young vampires and trained by a Chinese vamp to protect St. Clair.  
    "I do apologize, Oberon Geld. You see, with my advanced