“What, leave Samuel alone in their clutches while I hide in the kitchen like a girl?” She made a rude sound. “I don’t think so.” She glanced over at Charlotte Marena, who was having a laughing discussion in Spanish with their pastry chef. “Hey, Maggie, stop distracting the kid from his work. He’s got to finish those champagne éclairs.”
“Lo siento,” Charlotte said, bumping shoulders with Enrique before joining Rowan and Jean-Marc and glancing at the clock over the sous-chef’s station. “They’re late.”
“Come on.” Rowan linked arms with her. “We’ll go keep the boys company.” She looked back over her shoulder. “If you feel the urge to change, I left some clothes for you upstairs.”
Jean-Marc chuckled and blew her a kiss.
The women left the kitchen and went around the corner to the private room reserved for the chef’s table, a weekly event that Manhattan’s most devoted foodies would do anything to attend. Tonight only two men sat at the long glass table, and both were completely engrossed in a laptop showing a football game.
“Who’s winning?” Rowan asked.
“Green Bay,” Drew said absently. “Rodgers is merciless tonight.”
“For now. The Patriots will have no difficulty coming from behind,” Samuel assured him before he smiled up at Charlotte. “They’re late.”
She sat down beside him and helped herself to one of Rowan’s delicious amuse bouches. “Second thoughts, maybe?”
“Payback,” Drew said. “We made them wait first. For months.” The sound of the front doorbell made him straighten. “At least they don’t hold a grudge.” He switched off the laptop and stowed it under his chair before he shrugged into his jacket.
“I’ll show them in.” Rowan sauntered out.
Samuel took Charlotte’s hand in his. “Genaro is dead, Kirchner is in prison, and Delaporte has destroyed everything that might expose us.”
She smiled a little. “You mean, stop worrying about something as simple and easy as meeting the vampires whose DNA was used to change us into superhumans.”
“We were created to hunt them down and kill them,” Samuel said softly. “I think we can hold our own.”
They both looked up as Rowan returned with three strangers. One, a broad, scarred-faced man with light eyes and an impassive expression, surveyed the room before stepping to one side. Behind him a petite, chestnut-haired woman stood beside a man who could have been Jean-Marc Dansant’s twin brother.
Samuel rose to his feet. “Welcome, Mr. Cyprien, Dr. Keller, Mr. Navarre.”
“Monsieur.” Cyprien inclined his head, and then studied Charlotte and Drew for a moment. “We are happy that you finally agreed to this meeting.”
“It’s Alexandra,” the woman said to Samuel. “And we’re not that happy. You wouldn’t even tell us your names.”
“I believe you already knew some of them.” Samuel gestured toward the empty chairs at the other end of the table. “Please join us.”
“We assume you can’t eat food,” Rowan said as she brought a bottle of wine to the table. “Can you handle a little overpriced merlot?”
“Thank you, no.” Cyprien took the seat directly opposite Samuel’s, but lifted his hands from the table an instant after touching it. “This is made of copper.”
“Yes, it is.” Drew took a penny from his pocket and flipped it into the air, where it hung suspended as it stretched out and became a miniature dagger. “So are most of the fixtures in this room. Which, by the way, I will not hesitate to use to skewer your immortal asses”—the little dagger flew across the room and buried itself in the wall behind Cyprien’s head—“should you try to help yourselves to some takeout.”
Alexandra burst out laughing. “God, you guys are smart.”
“We are not interested in feeding on any of you, monsieur.” Cyprien held up his palms in a gesture of surrender. “We wished only to meet our progeny.”
Charlotte scowled. “We are not your children.”
“Technically, no, you’re not,” Alexandra agreed. “We can’t have kids.”
Everyone looked over as Jean-Marc entered the room. “Ah, you have arrived. I must go soon, but I thought . . . I would . . .” He trailed off as he stared at Cyprien’s face. “Mon Dieu.”
“Guess whose DNA you got,” Rowan drawled.
Cyprien rose and slowly extended his hand. After a moment, Jean-Marc took it in his own and began speaking to him in their native language.
“Does he fuss at you for leaving your clothes on the floor?” Alexandra asked Rowan, who nodded. “Some things are genetic.” To Cyprien she said, “Quit talking in French. It’s rude to the English speakers, which is everyone else but Phillipe.”
Both men glanced at her and apologized at the same time before uttering identical chuckles.
“This is incredible.” Cyprien regarded his twin. “Are there others among you who are . . . like the two of us?”
“We don’t know,” Samuel said. “But it’s safe to assume there will be some Kyndred who were altered to be body doubles.” As Cyprien met his gaze, he added, “So they could assume your identities after you were killed.”
Cyprien sat back down. “We have no quarrel with you, monsieur. I wish you to understand that. We chose to intervene on your behalf in Mexico to protect you.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Charlotte murmured to Samuel.
“So you must be a mind reader. I have a similar problem, just with killers.” Alexandra’s expression turned wry. “And yes, we do have excellent hearing. If you don’t want us to hear what you whisper, you need to be about a block away.”
“What we want, Doctor, are some answers,” Charlotte said. “Why are you protecting us? Why offer to meet us? What do you really want?”
“Well, primarily we’d like to establish diplomatic relations so you don’t end up being used by our enemies as weapons against us.” Alexandra ignored the sharp sound Cyprien made. “Trust me; I have the inside track on this. I was one of you before I grew fangs.”
“You were Kyndred.” Rowan looked skeptical.
“If you don’t believe me, I’ll give you before and after blood samples.” Alexandra tapped the inside of her forearm. “For the ‘after,’ you’ll need the master of small change here to coat a syringe with copper. Nothing else penetrates our immortal asses.”
“I think any exchanges of blood should be avoided for right now,” Samuel said. “We accept that you have wanted only to protect us, but you murdered Jonah Genaro. We can’t condone or support that kind of violence.”
“Oh, so we should have just let him go on kidnapping you, and dissecting you, and using your DNA to make monsters?” Alexandra asked sweetly. She blinked as Drew slid a thick file across the table at her. “What’s this? A petition?”
“Evidence,” Drew said flatly. “Some of us have spent years compiling it. We had put together almost enough to shut down GenHance and put Genaro in prison for the rest of his life.”
Cyprien picked up the file and skimmed through it. “So you believe you do not need our protection.”
“I am saying that we never asked for it,” Samuel said softly.
Cyprien closed the folder. “Genaro’s death does not guarantee a safe future for the Kyndred or the Darkyn. For that, monsieur, we must work together.”
“Like a team?” Drew asked.
Phillipe muttered something, and Alexandra grinned. “No, pal. Like a family.” Her eyes strayed to Jean-Marc, who was shaking and groping for a chair. “Is he okay?”
Rowan swore under her breath as she went to him and helped him to sit. “He will be in a second.” She knelt beside him, holding his hands as he hunched over.
Alexandra’s eyes widened as Jean-Marc’s body began to grow larger and his long black hair receded into his skull, and she knocked over her chair getting to her feet. She reached the chef at the same moment Charlotte did.
“It’s okay,” Charlotte told her. “He doesn’t take long to change.”
“To change into what?”
“My other boyfriend,” Rowan said, sighing as the transformation ended, and a big blond man lifted his head. “Say hi, honey.”
“Hi, honey.” The big man pulled her close and gave her a lingering kiss before he looked around the room. “They the vampires?” he asked, his deep voice just as startling as his appearance.
“That’s us.” Alexandra sat back on her heels. “So he can cook and shape-shift. I’ll be damned.”
“We have a great deal to learn from one another,” Cyprien said. “Perhaps that is the best place for us to begin.” He rose and walked over to Samuel, and held out his hand. “In hope that our people may someday become friends, monsieur.”
Samuel looked at Charlotte, who nodded, as did Rowan and Drew, before he took Cyprien’s hand. “You can call me Paracelsus.”
