Page 172 of Drama Queen

He nodded.

“Well, I’ve amended that, because I think mosquitos will outlive us all. Although I suppose they’ll die from a lack of blood or something. Anyway, I’ve amended my list, because the amount of toxic food she was likely eating, should have killed her. It’s like immunity to microorganisms is her superpower or something. An older woman with food poisoning? How the fuck did she survive that? So, it’s mosquitos, cockroaches, and batshit old women who are going to survive the holocaust.”

James didn’t laugh, but his lips twitched, then he grunted. “You’re probably right, you know. She’ll fucking live longer than even shifters do.”

That was a scary thought.

“Well, there goes my big reveal,” Natasha said with a sigh. She’d been assigned to look into the woman. “Although I have an update on her next of kin. There’s a son and daughter, both are horrified, and they’re putting her into care. The daughter said the woman’s husband had left her years ago, and she always said it was for a shifter, but she’d secretly met the woman, even went to the wedding when he remarried, and she was as human as they got. Her mother was always angry and prejudiced after that.”

Of all the stupid things to come together, this was what had ended a little girl’s life? A bitter old woman with an imagined grudge, a baby cop who panicked on the job, then took his own life, and a little girl woken in the middle of the night byloud noises, who panicked when she saw her parents held at gunpoint.

There was no conspiracy, no sinister goal, just some bad choices, poor instincts, and fear. Nothing she could really fight against, not really. They could broach education of people in general, better training for the cops, especially those coming onto the force, and pushing to allow shifter law enforcement officers to assist on call-outs where a shifter was suspected to be involved.

This could have been avoided. It should have been avoided. Which was the biggest tragedy of the whole thing.

“I’ve got something else that might interest you, although we’re not supposed to have it,” Natasha said, watching her carefully.

Was this a test? Were they checking her loyalties or her ability to get them into trouble.

“Not supposed to have it how,” Charlotte asked. “As in you overheard something, or a source divulged the information without fear or favour? Or did you somehow obtain this illegally, because I cannot be a party to that.”

If it was a test, she had passed it, because the level of tension in the room lowered a degree.

“My source divulged it without any prompting. She’s a bit of a gossip, but her heart is in the right place. However, if we let on that we know this, then they will definitely dig into things, and she could end up getting into trouble.”

“Who else in the room knows this?” Charlotte asked.

“We all overheard it,” Tony said drily. “The woman was positively gushing, desperate to tell someone what she knew.”

“Then this information, whatever it is, needs to be confined to this room. Whatever her reasons, she’s done us a favour, and we may need to use her again. I’d rather protect our sources where we can.”

Natasha nodded as if this were par for the course. It probably was, but given this was Charlotte’s first time in the room with the big players, she wasn’t taking anything for granted.

The whole scene before her was surreal. These were the most powerful shifters in the country, at least politically anyway, and they were doing her scutwork. Making enquiries, tapping sources, and collating data. This was the kind of stuff she did for Grace, and had not the woman in question been indisposed, Charlotte was pretty sure she would have been here doing the same thing for Grace.

Then again, Grace wasn’t the speechwriter, so maybe not. Still, it was a heady sensation to have such power at her fingertips, even for just a moment.

“The Islington is confirmed,” Roxanne called out, her gaze steady as Charlotte turned to see her. “The grand ballroom. There’s a stage and room for two hundred seated guests. The White House press advisor was practically giddy at that. You can be assured they’ll be tapping all the media outlets they can.”

“Then we need to tap ours too,” Charlotte countered. “Who’s on that?”

“I'll do it,” Roxanne volunteered. “I’m not great with research and talking points, but I can tell people what to do like a pro.”

Charlotte snorted, she bet the hawk shifter could too. The woman’s stare was enough to make a person shit themselves at a thousand paces, and she bet her voice was just as effective over the phone.

“Madam, your belongings have arrived,” Wilson said at her elbow. “I’ve taken the liberty of bringing your laptop to you, and your belongings are in your suite. Your clothes are being pressed, refreshed and hung as I speak, and a female intern is selecting a series of outfits for you to choose from.”

“Thank you, Wilson, you’re a lifesaver,” Charlotte said. “I might need to borrow someone to direct me to my suite when it’stime. One of the guards, Zeke, got me here, but I’ve yet to map out the layout of this place in my head. It’s not a strength of my owl unless we’re looking down at a place.”

WIlson looked around the room, a confused expression on his face. “Ms Kelsing is not available?”

She couldn’t help it, a slightly hysterical giggle slipped past Charlotte’s lips before she could stop it. “Ms Kelsing, Bonny Kelsing, the young and rather impressionablelioness?”

The aide’s lips moved as he repeated her words silently to himself, trying to work out the nuance.

“Oh fuck,” Brent Moorehouse, governor of the shifters said. Yeah, he got it, being a large cat himself. “She’s in a pheromone haze?”

“Yeah, one good whiff of our president, and she was all but unconscious.”

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