Page 2 of How to Stake a Vampire (Diary of a Reluctant Werewolf #2)

THE ROUND(ISH) TABLE OF DOOM

My first impression of the Twilight Conference Room was that the place lived up to its name.

The ornate crystal chandelier suspended from the central ceiling seemed to be mostly for show since the muted light barely dappled the shadows in the far corners.

The floor was dominated by a massive oval table surrounded by chairs that looked like they’d been designed to make their occupants feel important.

The walls were dotted with expensive-looking artwork and portraits of more ominous and possibly constipated people.

Add in a few votive candles and a crystal ball and the place could have passed for a phony psychic’s lair.

My gaze landed on the figures seated around the table. I recognized a few faces from the tea party at Chateau Montmartre. Still, there were plenty of new ones that made my wolf sit up and take notice.

Gregory and Constantia Tremaine sat near the head of the table, looking like vampire royalty in their perfectly tailored clothes.

Constantia stiffened fractionally when we entered the room, her crimson-tinged gaze assessing me guardedly.

Considering the state my powers had left her in at the Holt ball, I wasn’t exactly surprised.

“Ah, the Hawthornes.” Gregory greeted us with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Please, join us. We were just discussing tonight’s agenda.”

A woman with silver hair pulled back in a severe chignon looked up from her notes where she sat to his right. She wore an expensive navy suit and had the kind of razor-edged features that suggested she either ate children for breakfast or regularly foreclosed on orphanages for fun.

“You must be Abigail West.” She rose as we approached the table, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. The scent of magic drifting off her marked her as a witch. “I’m Daria Tilcott, the Alliance chair.” She came around and offered me her hand.

I heard several faint inhales just beyond the point of normal human hearing, the loudest of them Victoria’s. A protective feeling mixed with anxiety hummed across the mate bond from Samuel as he took a step closer to me. Pearl’s eyes shrank to slits. Bo gulped noisily.

The silence deepened until you could have heard a pin drop.

This was evidently some sort of test.

I eyed the woman’s hand before taking it. “Please, call me Abby.”

Surprise darted briefly in Daria’s dark eyes, so quick I would have missed it were it not for my wolf’s senses.

She watched me with an inscrutable expression.

“How refreshing.” Her handshake was firm and brief.

“I must admit I have yet to meet a Hawthorne as friendly as you are.” She glanced pointedly at a stony-faced Victoria and a tight-lipped Samuel before turning a steady gaze on Bo. “I hear he’s part werewolf.”

“Which part?” someone muttered from the shadows.

Bo ignored the insult and wagged his tail hesitantly where he stuck to my side like glue. “You smell like engine oil.”

Daria blinked, apparently disarmed by my four-legged goofball’s charm. “My broomstick is getting repaired, so I had to ride the bike tonight.”

Bo brightened, his tail speeding up. “You mean the Harley is yours? Cool!”

Daria arched an eyebrow. “You know what a Harley is?”

“Yeah. Just so you know, I’d never barf on one. Unlike Marshmallow.”

Daria’s eyes glazed over a little. “Who’s Marshmallow?”

“The Saint Bernard who lives the next street over from our apartment,” I explained.

“He’s a butt sniffer,” Bo added helpfully.

Someone choked in the gloom.

I clocked Victoria and Samuel’s accusing stares. “In Bo’s defense, Pearl didn’t teach him Alliance etiquette.”

We looked at the cat.

Pearl flicked her tail irritably. “What?”

Victoria guided us to a cluster of empty chairs before I or my dog could say more socially incriminating things. Daria looked a little relieved as she returned to her seat.

I finally got my first good look at the rest of the Alliance.

Portia O’Keefe, the head of the Amberford banshees, nodded a regal acknowledgment across from us. Her expression indicated we were never to mention what had happened at the Holt ball in her presence.

Next to her was a man I didn’t recognize. He was tall, pale, and had eyes that suggested he’d seen empires rise and fall, probably while complaining about property taxes the entire time.

Victoria introduced him. “That’s Cornelius Heathwood, head of the fae.”

Cornelius inclined his head with otherworldly grace. “Ms. West. Your reputation precedes you.”

“Trust me, I wish it didn’t,” I said levelly.

“On the contrary,” a melodious voice said from farther down the table. “Reputations can be quite useful, when they are properly managed.”

The speaker was a stunning woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a Renaissance painting. All flowing auburn hair, wispy dress, and ethereal beauty, her scent indicated she was fae too. But there was something else there. An undertone that made my wolf pay attention.

“Melody Flowers.” She introduced herself with a smile that was probably illegal in several states. “I’m temporarily representing the local covens.”

This earned her a wary side-eye from Portia and several other Alliance members.

“What happened to the Lincoln sisters?” Victoria asked, unable to hide her surprise.

“They’re out of town,” Melody replied smoothly. “It seemed recent events were too taxing for them. We decided they needed a well-deserved…break.”

I swallowed. The way she said “break” made it sound like the Lincoln sisters had been fed through a wood chipper. Judging from Samuel’s frown, he was thinking the same thing.

I was beginning to understand why the very mention of an Alliance meeting made the Hawthorne alpha’s eye twitch.

“I’m sure you had nothing to do with that decision,” Daria told Melody sharply.

“Why, I’m hurt you’d suggest such a thing, Daria.” The fae’s laugh tinkled like wind chimes in a hurricane guaranteed to level your house.

I finally clocked what it was about her that had intrigued my wolf.

Melody carried the scent of magic too.

I was busy trying to figure out how that was possible when a noise at the far end of the table drew my gaze. A dwarf with an impressive braided beard and arms that looked like they could bench-press a small car sat on a high chair. His scent was earthy and metallic.

He also stank of alcohol.

“Finnic Ironfall,” Victoria said in a low voice. “He speaks for the dwarf clans.”

Finnic caught me looking and raised a tankard that had definitely not been provided by the Chamber of Commerce.

“To the white wolf,” he boomed, cheeks flushed and eyes gleaming. “May your enemies flee before you like rabbits before the hunt!”

“Er, thank you?” I said uncertainly in the frosty silence.

A delicate-looking woman with gossamer wings that shimmered faintly in the conference room lighting rolled her eyes next to the dwarf.

“I’m Titania Rohentyn, pixie representative,” she said in a voice like silver bells. “Ignore Finnic. He’s been celebrating since noon.“

“Celebrating what?” Bo whispered curiously under the table.

I hushed him.

Finnic overheard my dog. “Friday,” the dwarf said proudly.

Faint grumbles broke around the table. From the snatches I caught, it appeared Finnic always had something to celebrate at the Alliance meetings.

A man who looked like he could be Gavin’s much more serious older brother drummed his fingers irritably on the table.

“Perhaps we could maintain some semblance of decorum?” His nostrils sparked slightly as he spoke. “We are Alliance members, after all.” He caught my stare. “I’m Wendall Baird, the representative for the dragon newt coalition,” he confessed gruffly.

I chewed my lip. “Coalition” sounded very official.

Wendall looked like he’d read my mind.

“We take our civic duties seriously,” the dragon newt stated with an austere dignity that suggested he’d never accidentally set fire to important paperwork, unlike another dragon newt I knew and associated with regularly.

The last figure at the table was partially hidden in the shadows. This seemed to be either a lighting problem or a deliberate aesthetic choice. I caught a glimpse of pale skin and sharp cheekbones belonging to someone who looked like he’d embraced the concept of brooding since birth.

The trace of sulfur that danced across my nostrils told me he was a demon.

“Oscar Roosevelt,” he said in a voice like silk over steel. “I represent the independent supernatural community.”

“That’s a fancy way of saying ‘miscellaneous monsters,’” Titania explained helpfully.

Daria cleared her throat. The ambient chatter around the table died down.

“Now that introductions have been made, let’s bring this meeting to order,” the witch said in a businesslike voice. “We have several items on tonight’s agenda, but I believe we should begin with the most pressing matter. The disposition of the crystal skull recovered from the recent…incident.”

All eyes turned to me. I resisted the urge to sink into my chair.

“The artifact is currently secured in our containment facility,” Daria continued, consulting her notes. “However, the question remains as to its ultimate fate.”

“We should destroy it, of course,” Wendall said immediately. “Nothing good ever comes from objects of that magnitude of dark power.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never had to deal with magical artifact disposal,” Gregory said with a frown. “You can’t simply throw something like that in a furnace, Wendall. The magical backlash could level half the town.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Cornelius asked thinly.

“We should study it,” Oscar declared portentously from his shadowy corner of Hell. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn from a cursed artifact. Knowledge is power, after all.”

Melody looked like she was in agreement with the demon.

I, on the other hand, didn’t like the sound of that one bit.

Finnic’s words echoed my thoughts.

“Knowledge is also how you accidentally do something stupid,” the dwarf groused, taking another swig from his tankard. “I speak from experience.”

“The point remains, we need to decide what to do with the skull,” Daria said firmly.

Pearl surprised everyone by jumping on the table. She waited until she had everyone’s undivided attention before dropping a bombshell.

“Might I suggest that since the Hawthorne luna was the one to neutralize the artifact’s power, her opinion should carry significant weight in this decision?”