“It’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you!” she said. “Now, shall we go upstairs?”

I groaned. “Doesn’t he have better things to do?”

“Yes,” Celestina agreed. “But it’s not often he has something amusing. Come—this time he won’t drop you over the side.”

“No, instead he’ll just dangle me by my ankle.”

“Your words—they hurt, my wizard,” Killian lazily called down in a voice as sure and smooth as ever.

“You’re as convincing as a cockroach right now, Killian. Try again,” I sourly said.

Killian laughed some more as I reluctantly followed Celestina inside.

Internally, I stewed.

Not over Killian dropping me off the patio—that’s pretty standard for what I’d expect from him.

But there was something about this…it didn’t really feel like Killian was trying to weaponize me. He seemed to be having…fun. And weirdly, I was grateful for the hassle he was willing to go through to see me safe.

But was I just being stupid? Or was Felix wrong; could I really make friends with these vampires—as deadly and dangerous as they were?

Since I’d been moved to the floor the vampires lived on, I’d also been…encouraged to eat dinner with them. Breakfast and lunch I had in the kitchen with the other staff members, but the few times I had tried skipping dinner, Celestina showed up to drag me off to the dining room.

It’s not what it sounds like.

Yeah, they insisted on keeping the lights dim so I could only tell about half of what I was eating. But the vampires didn’t just sit there swirling blood in wine glasses—though, for reference, they were served blood in either frosted or heated mugs depending on their personal preference—they actually ate some human food.

Celestina explained that they didn’t get much nutritional value out of it, and they couldn’t taste a lot. (Spicy food was insanely popular with them simply because they could actually taste the heat.) But they had dinners usually about five times a week because they craved food, and it was an excellent “bonding experience” for the group as a whole (dead serious, those were her words). Only about half of the vampires attended at a given night—sometimes more, sometimes less—but no matter how many were there, everyone sat at the longest banquet table I’d ever seen in my entire life.

It wasn’t a “bonding experience” for me. I was always ignored, and my presence was barely tolerated. Even though I’d been at Drake Hall for weeks it still felt that way.

So, the day after Killian had flung me off the patio, I followed my usual schedule and arrived to dinner as early as possible, sitting at a chair in the corner of the long-arse table so I was out of the way. I was contemplating my mashed potatoes as I wondered if the banquet table thing was left over from dinner parties in regency England, or some other time.

How old was everyone anyway? Killian Drake was a mystery, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have been strutting around England when King Arthur pulled the sword from the stone, which meant his offspring could have easily lived through historic England.

“You,” Rupert sneered when he entered the dining hall and caught sight of me.

I moved from my mashed potatoes to the pork roast the kitchen staff had slaved over. “Yep. Sorry if you were expecting someone else. Wizards don’t have shapeshifting abilities.”

“Why does Killian insist the animals eat with us?” Rupert bemoaned. “We are creatures of taste and class.”

“Could your taste and class get moving? You’re blocking the door,” the steely voiced male vampire rumbled.

Rupert sidled out of the way and took up a spot at the opposite end of the table.

I shrugged and ate my pork roast as more vampires filed into the room, rapidly filling the seats at the table.

“If you cannot stand to be near the wizard, why don’t you just leave?” Julianne, the blond-haired female vamp who worshiped the ground Celestina stood on, asked Rupert with a slight glare.

Rupert narrowed his eyes at her, ignoring the kitchen staff who set a plate full of delicious food in front of him. “Is that a challenge?”

“Rupert, stop being a pain,” a very proper male vampire ordered as he cut an asparagus spear into equal, precise pieces.

Rupert coldly eyed him. “Know your place, weakling,” he sneered.

With a flash of metal, Julianne tossed her steak knife at Rupert in a move my human eyes were barely able to discern.

Rupert caught it with a flash. He bared his fangs at her and flicked the knife. It embedded in the backrest of her chair, just above her shoulder, with such force I wouldn’t be surprised if the tip of the knife poked through the other side. “Apologize,” he demanded.

Julianne glared at him. “No.”

Rupert flung his steak knife, and it might have hit Julianne, except Josh raised his fork, deflecting the dinnerware so it fell with a clatter. He didn’t even look up from his plate while he did so—rather he seemed to be mourning his mug.

“I was hoping for a wine with tonight’s meal,” he said.

“Wine makes you sick,” Steely Voice reminded him.

Josh sighed. “Ahhh, yes, but such pain might be worth the momentary reminder of what mortality felt like, with all of its inhibitions and dim knowledge.”

“Thank you, Josh,” Julianne said.

Josh waved her off. “Think nothing of it.”

I studied the table and stifled the desire to shake my head. The Drake Family was a unique mixture made mostly of power and violence, but it had a swirl of affection somewhere in there. I didn’t think other vampire Families threw steak knives at each other over dinner and then chatted about wine. But what did I know?

I buttered my roll and was content to be quiet and eat.

“I enjoyed your performance the other day.”

It took me several moments to realize the sentence was directed at me. I looked up and down the table before I met Steely Voice’s eyes.

“You have an admirable set of lungs,” he added.

“…thanks?” I tried.

“Oh, your screams were such fun to hear!” Julianne gushed.

I tried for a smile, but I’m pretty sure it was more sarcastic than genuine. “I’m so glad I could provide amusement.”

“You know, that’s true.” A male vampire plopped in an open chair across the table from me, and studied me with a curious look that was pretty unnerving with his red eyes. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen the Eminence laugh like that. Have you, Celestina?”

Celestina appeared at my side, taking the spot directly next to me. “Not very often, and not for a long time.” She smiled down at me. “Though I don’t know how he could have not laughed given your…unusual vocabulary.”

I wrinkled my nose and set my fork on my plate with a loud clatter. “You said you wouldn’t let me get hurt, and then he hung me off the side of the balcony on a rope like a piñata!”

“At least he didn’t dangle you by the ankle as you feared he might,” Celestina offered. “And you were never in any danger. Those on the ground were prepared to catch you.”

“I was hoping you would fall,” the vampire across from me said. “You make a different sound when falling from when you just dangle.”

“Do I?” I sarcastically asked. “How very unexpected.”

A few of the vampires showed a sliver of fang or exhaled a chuff of amusement.

Which meant Rupert, of course, couldn’t let it pass. “I am surprised, Celestina,” he said. “I would have thought you’d hate the wizard.”

Celestina took a sip of heated blood from her mug. “Why?”

“She is the recipient of the Eminence’s attention. Is that not enough?”

Celestina smirked. “Quite the opposite. I’m thankful.”

Now it was my turn to be surprised. “Really? I would have thought this would be a big pain in the butt for you.”

“Not at all.” Celestina shook her head, and the glossy curtain of her hair swished. “I think it’s good for the Eminence to have a hobby—particularly one he can laugh over.”

“Of course,” I grumbled into my mashed potatoes—which were flavored with flecks of fresh parsley. “Anything for the Eminence.”

Celestina patted me on the shoulder. “It isn’t an entirely selfless desire. I was finally able to get my hair cut for the first time in a decade. Ever since he made Eminence, he’s worked every moment of the day. I have hopes he’ll play with you more, and maybe I can go get a manicure.”

The vampire sitting across from me had yet to touch his food (he and all the other vampires were served noticeably less than me) and instead nursed his frosted mug of blood. “That is a profound thought.”

“If he spends too much time with his new hobby it might hurt the Family,” a female vampire farther down the table nervously said.

Julianne pressed her lips together and gave the other vampire a flat look. “Do you really think the Eminence would ever neglect his duties, or let the Drake Family image be tarnished by slothfulness?”

Even though she had addressed the question to the female vampire, just about everyone, even Rupert, shook their heads.

“It’s a good stress relief for him,” Celestina said.

I eyed her as I ate my last forkful of potatoes. I had labeled her an ally, but this was a gentle reminder that her priority was, obviously, the Drake Family. Still, I could have done without being seen as a stress management device.

Celestina continued, “Even before the murderer was on the loose, he worked relentlessly, researching the cause for all the failed vampire turnings and attempting to rally other vampire Elders from their deadly apathy.”

I wrinkled my forehead in confusion. What is she talking about? Deadly apathy? The failed turnings weren’t a shocker—everyone knew vampires, shifters, and werewolves were slowly dying out. But what did the leaders of the other vampire Families have to do with anything?