Page 24 of Licence To Howl
‘That was worth the price of admission alone, wouldn’t you say?’ Solentino asked.
‘Absolutely,’ replied the heaviest set man, a glint of lasciviousness in his gaze as he stared at Scarlett’s lips. The others nodded vigorously.
Solentino picked up a white napkin and handed it to Alina. ‘Tidy yourself up,’ he told her. Then he walked to the head of the table and sat down as if a vampire feeding publicly on his maybe-not-girlfriend was an everyday occurrence.
Alina pressed the napkin to the tiny wound on her neck and stood up. She looked pale and shaky. Initially, Devereau thought her physical reaction was from terror but, when he saw the look on her face, he realised he was wrong. It wasn’t fear she felt; it was desire.
‘I enjoyed that,’ she whispered.
Scarlett smiled primly. To anyone who didn’t know her, they’d assume she was demurely grateful for Alina’s blood. Devereau knew differently. He was well aware that inside Scarlett was seething. ‘Most people find it a pleasurable experience,’ she said. ‘Thank you for your blood.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Alina gazed at Scarlett with slightly glazed eyes and then stumbled over to the chair directly opposite from Solentino before she did up the buttons on her blouse.
‘I know how to please a vampire,’ Solentino said. ‘I’m less clear about how to meet the needs of a werewolf, however.’
Devereau pointed at the artfully arranged slices of meat. ‘These will do me,’ he said. With any luck, Solentino wouldn’t produce any live animals up for him to slaughter as the part of the second act of this bizzare luncheon.
Solentino’s mouth twitched, as if he knew exactly what Devereau was thinking. ‘Very well then.’ He gestured magnanimously towards the table. ‘Help yourselves.’
It wasn’t until everyone filled their plates that Solentino spoke again. ‘So Scarlett,’ he drawled, ‘you work for Lord Horvath in London.’
Here we go, Devereau thought.
‘Yes,’ Scarlett said. ‘I do.’ She took a sip from the wine glass in front of her. ‘Fortunately, he allows me considerable leeway with other ventures as long as they don’t conflict with the interest of the London vampires.’
‘I see.’ Solentino’s eyes were intently focused on her. ‘What about the vampires in Rome? Or Berlin? Or Paris? Would he care about them?’
‘Not particularly. I’m loyal to my Lord but Lukas Horvath doesn’t give two hoots what I do in Italy. Or in Germany. Or in France. Or indeed anywhere that’s not London.’
‘I see.’ Solentino nodded thoughtfully. Then he turned his attention to Devereau. ‘Is that why you’re working in Rome rather than London, Mr Webb? Is it purely because you are attempting to remain under the radar of the London werewolves?’
‘Honestly,’ he said, ‘the London clans can do and think whatever the fuck they want. They’ve not exactly welcomed me into the lupine fold with open arms. Contact them and tell them whatever you want about me. They’re not my concern.’
‘Interesting. I thought that loyalty to their own kind was the most valuable commodity which werewolves possessed.’
Devereau was suddenly aware that he was treading on dangerous ground. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I have loyalty in spades. I will give it and I will expect it in return. But not from the London clans. Loyalty is not something which I take lightly so I’m more than a little circumspect when it comes to deciding who I pledge allegiance to.’
Something dark flared in Solentino’s expression and, for a disheartening moment, Devereau thought he’d misjudged his words and had sounded too slick to be genuine. Instead, however, the Italian turned to the four men seated down the far length of the table. ‘That wolf understands the value of loyalty. He knows it is not something to be taken for granted. Even the vampire has her own appreciation for it.’
The atmosphere in the sunny room suddenly dipped several degrees. Two of the men froze in mid-chew. The other two stared at Solentino. He acted as if he didn’t notice. ‘I’ve been remiss in not introducing you to my lunch guests, Mr Webb. Miss Cook.’ Solentino raised his fork and jabbed it towards each of the men in turn. ‘Mike Lancaster. He’s from Australia originally so don’t get him started on cricket. Then there’s our resident Yank, Rick Moore.’ Solentino glanced at Devereau. ‘Don’t get him started on cricket either. He doesn’t understand it at all.’
‘Who does?’ Devereau asked in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the air.
Solentino ignored his interjection. ‘The big guy next to Rick is Rospo Accetta. And you’ve met Alina Bonnet already, of course.’ Solentino moved his fork in the direction of the last man. ‘Finally we have Geraint Vissier. We call him Gee for short.’
‘How fabulous to meet you all,’ Scarlett said, sounding for all the world as if she meant it.
‘Likewise,’ Devereau added.
‘I wouldn’t waste time getting to know them too well,’ Solentino said. ‘Not all of them anyway.’ He was still staring at Vissier. He speared a cube of cheese and popped into his mouth without taking his eyes from the man even once. Vissier hadn’t appeared to notice. He was carefully using a white linen handkerchief to rub at a tiny blemish on his fork. He was sat ramrod straight, with the posture of the dancer, the starched clothes of a waiter, and the obliviousness of an idiot.
‘Tell us, Gee,’ Solentino murmured, ‘what does loyalty mean to you?’
Devereau was suddenly aware that to his left Alina was carefully placing her knife and fork down on the table and sitting back.
‘Boss?’ Vissier asked nervously, napkin and fork still in hand. ‘You know I’m loyal.’ He sounded Dutch. Or maybe South African.
‘I asked you what loyalty means to you, not whether you’re loyal,’ Solentino said, with a dangerous glint. ‘Interesting that you should think I’m questioning your personal allegiance. Do you have reason to believe I should question it? Have you been naughty, Gee?’
