“If I’d said no, would you have stayed out?”

“I’d already bought the plane tickets.”

He smiled like he’d won a point. “Lucky for you that’s not what I’m here about.”

“Oh?”

“Where do you stand?” he said. His tone made the question very large indeed.

“On my own two feet?” I suggested. Ben snorted a laugh.

“Regarding the vampires,” Caleb answered, not missing a beat. “The vampires here, in Europe, in your own country. Do you serve them?”

People kept asking me that. Kept making assumptions. “No,” I said. “I’m friends with some of them. But I protect my pack. That’s all.”

“You sure about that? It’s rare, for a territory’s wolves to be so … independent.”

“I think I know what you’re really asking,” I said. “I met some of the vampires of Europe last night. And some of their wolves. I didn’t like what I saw.”

“You’ve never seen wolves as slaves, you mean.”

“No,” I said. “Not like that.”

“It’s been that way for centuries on the Continent,” Caleb said. “It’s different, here. The arrangement Ned and I have is unusual.”

“What arrangement is that?”

“We leave each other alone.”

“The European vampires don’t like either one of you because of that.”

“They’d take Ned out, if they could.”

“And if they took him out, the wolves here could lose their autonomy.”

“It won’t come to that,” he said, but it sounded like bluster. His gaze fell, the tiniest sign of a loss of confidence. “There are rumors that a war is coming. Between those who want us in the open and those who don’t. Between us and regular people. What do you think? Is war brewing?”

War was such a big word. I wanted to deny it. “I think so, yes,” I said.

“This conference of yours has brought the likely instigators to my doorstep. What am I supposed to do with that?”

He said it like it was my fault. Like the conference was even my idea. Or maybe that the war was. “I suppose that depends on which side you’re on.”

“I’m on the side of angels, love.”

I liked him. That didn’t mean I could trust him. I looked to Ben for his opinion. He kept a neutral expression; his hackles were down, though, his shoulders and back relaxed.

I turned back to Caleb. “Does the name Roman mean anything to you? Or Dux Bellorum?”

“No, but if I run into these fellows what should I do?”

“Stake the hell out of him,” Ben said.

Caleb smiled. “That bad, eh?”

“If there is a war coming,” I said. “It’s because of him.” In a hushed voice I explained what I knew of the Long Game, that two-thousand-year-old Roman had been gathering allies and taking control of territory, for the purpose—near as anyone could figure—of having the most power. Of ensuring that the supernatural world, controlled by him, had supremacy over humanity in whatever conflict, instigated by him, ensued.

“Not even the vampires know which of them’s aligned with Roman and who isn’t,” I said. “I think it’s on purpose. Keeps them at each other’s throats. At least that’s what happened last night.”

“Better each other’s than ours. They’re nervous,” Caleb said, thoughtfully scratching the stubble on his chin. “Things are changing too fast for ’em—they’re used to watching the world move slowly around them, manipulating events behind the scenes. They can’t do that so much now.”

“If Roman can gather allies, then so can we. The more people know about him, the less power he has. So now you know.”

The alpha werewolf leaned back in his chair. “You’re all right, Kitty Norville. Unfortunate name, there.”

“Don’t start,” I muttered.

He chuckled. “One more question for you. There’s another American werewolf here for the conference, a Joseph Tyler. What do you know about him?”

I straightened, hackles stiffening again. “What about him?” I said, my voice low.

“Steady there,” he said. “Friend of yours, I take it?”

“If you hurt him—”

He huffed. “What makes you think anyone can hurt him? He’s a tank. That’s what I want to ask—is he going to be trouble while he’s here?”

I was shaking my head before he’d finished talking. “No, not at all. He’s had enough trouble. He was Special Forces in Afghanistan, he’s worked really hard to adjust to civilian life. To werewolf civilian life. He’s a really good guy.” I could defend Tyler for hours.

Caleb nodded. “All right. I trust you.” He pushed his chair away from the table. “I don’t know if you’ll still be here for full moon, but if you need a place to run, to let off steam or whatnot, I can show you territory where you won’t be bothered.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate that.”

“Can we get you a drink? You and your friends?” Ben asked, gesturing to the handful of other wolves in the place obviously keeping watch.

“Maybe next time,” he said. “I should be going.”

We exchanged phone numbers before Caleb and his pack left, and I felt like I had another ally.

Ben and I finished our drinks, ate some food, and were on our way out when my phone rang, making me jump. Just when I felt like I was able to let my guard down … caller ID said Cormac.

“Yeah?” I said in greeting.

“I need to talk to you. Is Ben there?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Where are you?”

“That pub a couple of blocks from the hotel.”

“Right. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

“Cormac, wait—” But he’d already hung up. I looked at Ben. “Cormac’s on the way.”

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked, concerned. I had to shrug.

We went back inside and ordered another round of drinks while we waited.

Chapter 8

CORMAC APPEARED at the door and took off his sunglasses before looking around. He brought his fingerprint-unique scent with him—the aged leather of his coat, soap on male skin. Ben waved, and he took the seat Caleb had been using.