Page 8 of How to Stake a Vampire
Bo wagged his tail. “I was trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere.”
Daria’s face took on the expression of someone who’d spent far too long in my dog’s company. “Motion carries. The skull will remain in our containment facility.” She glanced at me. “Thank you for your input, Abby. It was illuminating.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a polite way of saying I’d confirmed everyone’s worst fears about letting newbies into Alliance meetings.
“Right, then.” Daria consulted her agenda. “Next item. Gregory, I believe you have some concerns about recent activities in your territory?”
“Yes. There have been some minor incidents at several of the blood banks in the area. Small amounts of inventory have gone missing.”
“How small?” Wendall asked.
“A few pints here and there. Nothing that would suggest organized theft, but enough to be noticed.”
Finnic waved dismissively. “It’s probably just a hungry fledgling who hasn’t learned proper vampire etiquette yet.”
Cornelius and Titania nodded.
I debated asking how one became a vampire fledging and where blood banks got their blood from but decided to file those questions in my things-I-should-never-ask folder. I pursed my lips.
Judging from recent episodes, this folder should also include never asking supernatural creatures about their lineage, diet, or personal sanitation.
“That was my first thought as well,” Gregory said with a faint frown. “However, the pattern is unusual. The thefts are happening during daylight hours, which suggests either a very bold fledgling or something else entirely.”
“Could be a ghoul,” Melody suggested. “They’re not bound by the same limitations as vampires.”
“Or a human who’s discovered our community,” Oscar added ominously from his belt of gloominess.
“We’re investigating all possibilities,” Gregory said. “We simply wanted to make the Alliance aware of the situation in case anyone knew something that could help us find who’s behind it.”
“Thank you, Gregory.” Daria looked around the table. “Anything else pressing? Or shall we call it a night?” she said with undisguised hope.
“Actually,” Melody said, her voice taking on a dangerous sing-song quality that even I was starting to recognize as meaning trouble, “I wanted to discuss the upcoming winter solstice celebrations. There have been some territorial disputes regarding venue assignments.”
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.
It was clear the term “territorial dispute” was a red flag in the Alliance’s world.
I recalled that one of Hawthorne & Associates’s roles was to manage said disputes and shot a wary look at Samuel.
My alpha’s eyes had darkened. “What kind of territorial disputes?”
“Oh, nothing too serious,” Melody said in a tone that made it clear it was in fact deadly serious. “Just the usual disagreements about who gets to use the old cemetery for their rituals. And possibly some hexing. Very minor hexing, really.” She laughed.
The temperature in the room was now rapidly approaching subzero.
“Define ‘minor,’” Samuel said flatly.
“Well, nobody’s been turned into a toad. Permanently, I mean.”
I caught Victoria’s eye. Her expression mirrored my own thoughts about the many different ways this situation could go catastrophically wrong and how badly Samuel was going to react to it. I swallowed a sigh.
And here everyone was worried about howIwas going to behave at this meeting.
Bo chose that moment to stick his head up above the table. “Are we almost done? Because I need to pee and I’d hate to do it here, with all of you watching. No offense, but some of you really creep me out.”
The Alliance members stared at my dog, nonplussed. A few faintly accusing gazes switched to me.
“It’s not like I can control his mouth,” I said guiltily.
