“Small world,” I said. Although it had been a long time since I’d known Petra, she’d been smart, funny, and kind. That she worked for the OMB, as Theo called it, made me feel a lot better about Dearborn being in charge.
“Speaking of small worlds,” Theo said, “did you get a load of the panther?” He gestured toward the woman currently draped on William Dearborn. “Or maybe a cougar would have been more accurate.”
I just managed not to choke, given the woman was Tabby. “That’s Connor’s date,” I said with a very forced smile.
“Well, she seems . . .” Theo faltered, obviously grasping for a compliment. Then he shook his head, apparently giving up. “Like something you could improve upon?” he offered to Connor.
“She’s vivacious.”
“She’s vivating all over the Ombudsman,” Petra said dryly.
“It’s fine,” Connor said. His voice had tightened, and I wasn’t sure if that was because he was irritated by the activity, or our questions about it. And it wasn’t, frankly, any of our business—any more than Tabby’s sex life was.
“You’re a good-looking man,” Theo said appraisingly. “I go for chicks, but I’m sure there are plenty of ladies who’d be interested in you and have a little more to offer in terms of loyalty.” He looked at me speculatively. “You’re single, aren’t you, Elisa?”
“No,” Connor and I said simultaneously, and with just as much emphasis. Which wasn’t flattering to either of us.
“Not my type,” I said with a mirthless smile.
“Not even in the same universe,” Connor agreed. “And I have a girlfriend.” He sipped his drink.
“Oh, okay,” Theo said. “Your protestations are totally convincing.” He looked at me with a grin. “Do you have any hobbies, Elisa? What do you do for fun?”
“She doesn’t,” Connor said.
“Sick burn, puppy,” I said. “Just because I don’t party twenty-four/seven doesn’t mean I don’t have hobbies.”
“Is it stamp collecting?”
“No.”
“Do you literally watch grass grow?”
As my irritation grew, my eyes silvered, and I let him see it.
“Come at me, brat.”
“Seriously,” Petra said with a nod, “you two are very cute.”
Connor actually growled.
And it was time to change the topic. “I have hobbies. Yoga. And there’s martial arts training, katana practice, blah, blah, blah. It’s hard to find time to just do things. I think I’d like to learn calligraphy.”
Connor blinked. “That is not what I’d have expected you to say.”
I shrugged. “I like letters. They’re very . . .”
“Orderly?” he asked with a grin.
“When you’re facing down immortality,” I said, “order is important. Rules are comforting.”
“Rules are constricting,” he countered.
“My parents are aeromancers,” Petra said. “And hobbies are hard when you’re the kid of a sup. There are expectations.”
I thought of the discussion I’d had with Lulu, how our parents’ abilities had affected us. “No disagreement here.”
“I played baseball as a kid,” Connor said. “Third base, and had a fantastic arm.” He flexed his biceps, and the muscle strained against the slick fabric. “But the old man wanted me at Little Red, at the House, at wherever the Pack happened to be. So that was the end of that. Pack comes first. Always.”
“I don’t understand the point of baseball.”
Theo looked at me, blinked. “What do you mean, you don’t understand the point of it? What’s to understand? It’s a sport.”
“If there’s time for the players to have snacks, it’s not a sport. It’s recess.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “Seeds aren’t a snack.”
“Agree to disagree,” I said, holding up a hand, and was glad to finally speak my truth about baseball. My mother was Cubs fan, so dissent had not been allowed in Cadogan House. “But I understand your point. I took piano lessons until it was time to take katana lessons.”
“Didn’t you hate piano lessons?” Petra asked.
“I did,” I said with a smile, impressed that she’d remembered. “With a passion. I like music, but I can’t make it. And my teacher—Mrs. Vilichnik. God, I hated her. She was like the villain from a Victorian orphan story.”
“They just wanted us to be prepared,” Connor said. “For, you know, Juilliard or supernatural warfare.”
“I know.”
“I’m actually feeling moderately better about growing up human,” Theo said. “I’d figured it was boring—homework, anime, baseball and basketball, trips to Challengers Comics to grab the new releases. Maybe I had it easy.”
“I wouldn’t say human is easy, either,” Connor said. “Mortality, illness, bullies. Being a sup makes those things easier, at least some of the time. Except when it doesn’t. Except when it makes life harder.”
I froze, shocked into silence by the possibility that he was going to say it aloud, talk about my monster, the evidence he’d seen.
But he didn’t even look at me. Just brushed his shoulder against mine. It was so light, so casual, that I wasn’t sure if he’d done it on purpose—an acknowledgment that he’d felt the magic that accompanied my fear—or if it was accidental.
“Well, if it isn’t Elisa Sullivan.”
I turned back. The vampire behind me was handsome, with wavy blond-brown hair that nearly reached his shoulders and was tucked behind his ears. Tall and muscular, with broad shoulders that narrowed to a tapered waist. He wore a pale gray suit over a white button-down, and he’d skipped the tie.
“Welcome back to Chicago, Elisa,” he said, and pressed a kiss to my cheek.
His accent was British, and his name was . . . something with a D. Darren? David?
“Dane,” he said. “Grey House.”
I made the introductions, ending with Connor.
“Of course.” Dane smiled. “The prince of wolves.”
“Not exactly,” he said. He sipped his drink, watching me over the rim. “How do you two know each other?”
“We met before I went to Paris,” I said.
“You wound me, Elisa,” Dane said with a grin, putting a hand over his heart. “We had dinner shortly before she left.”
The memory, or what there was of it, clicked into place. There’d been a dinner I didn’t much remember. I’d liked his accent and his sarcasm, and hadn’t given anything else much thought. I’d also been focused on Paris, and not especially interested in dating a vampire who looked my age but was decades older.
“How did you find Paris?” he asked.
“Halfway between X and Y.”
Connor grinned. Dane’s smile was a little more forced.
“It was lovely and complicated,” I said.
“Sounds like Chicago,” Dane said, then looked at Connor. “I understand the Pack’s leaving us soon. Heading back to Alaska, are you?”
“Some of us,” Connor said.
“Of course. Shame to leave now when things are getting interesting.”
“Interesting?” Connor asked.
“After years of peace, I mean. The fairies’ bursting into the peace talks. The violence in Europe.” He looked at me. “There are many videos of your heroism at the Eiffel Tower. You handled yourself well. It was impressive.”
The sudden flash of interest in his eyes, that deeper ring in his voice, didn’t win him the points he probably thought they would. I hadn’t been trying to play hero. I hadn’t been playing at all, and neither had the vampires who’d attacked.
“It was what needed to be done.”
Dane seemed surprised I hadn’t taken the bait, hadn’t been flattered by his approval. And Connor looked pleased by my answer.
As if looking for an exit, Dane waved at someone across the yard. “Well, I should make the rounds. Good seeing you again, Lis.”
He squeezed my hand, making me think I’d been downgraded from a kiss on the cheek, and walked away.
“I think I just got dumped.”