Anne paused, clearly not expecting the question. “She killed them. Then she forbade her people from feeding outside their household staff. There have been no vampire infections since.”
“Effective,” Rens said.
“Yes, it was.” Anne shifted her attention to the Dutchman. “Mr. Anker, I notice that you have not shared your rate of infection with the rest of us. Would you mind?” She held up her pencil. “For note-taking purposes, of course.”
A reluctant smile crossed the man’s lip. “Of course. We have had two hundred forty-three human infections and twenty-six vampire infections. Most of those vampires have living sires. We also contacted Katya’s people about how to treat them. They are being taken care of.”
It was an alarming rate for such a small country. Murphy had to admit Rens’s participation in the summit wasn’t such a mystery anymore. Almost two dozen immortals infected? It was disproportionally high.
“And the infected humans?” Anne asked.
Rens shrugged slowly. “The humans? Most were nothing. Club kids. That sort of thing. Not attached to anyone in particular. They left Amsterdam one way or another. We don’t need the human authorities beginning an investigation.”
Anne’s pencil froze on her page.
Note to Tom and Declan, Murphy thought. Restrict travel to the Netherlands for humans under Irish aegis.
Chapter Twelve
AFTER THAT EXCHANGE, the meeting wrapped up quickly. Jetta and her entourage were still settling in. Rens and his small staff drifted back to… wherever they were staying. No one seemed to know. Murphy followed Anne into the crisp spring evening.
“What are you doing the rest of the night?” Murphy asked. “Would you join me for a drink?”
Her cheeks were pale and her eyes bright again. “I think I’ll go for a swim,” she said. “Then maybe read a bit. I’ll need to transcribe the evening notes for Mary as well.”
He frowned. “You already took them.”
“But I need to translate.”
He nodded. “Ah yes. Tywyll’s mystery language.”
“You don’t forget much, do you, Mr. Murphy?”
“Your secrets are safe with me, Dr. O’Dea.”
She nodded and turned. “Good to know.”
“Go for a swim with me?” he asked. “I was heading down to the river.”
Anne cringed. “Surely not, Patrick. The water is filthy.”
“Far cleaner than it used to be,” he said with a smile. “I was planning to go upriver. The saltwater irritates my skin.”
Water vampires always tended toward either freshwater or salt, with the vast majority preferring the ocean. But for Murphy, freshwater was his home. Springs and lakes. Rivers and creeks. Any bit of it would do. The ocean was fine… but it wasn’t the same.
“No, find a pool or a lake or something. The river is…” She shuddered.
“I hope you don’t share your feelings with your sire.”
“I don’t. Though he’s as cross about the pollution as any environmentalist. I’ll be fine. Enjoy your swim.”
She turned to walk toward her driver.
“Anne, wait.” Murphy caught up with her and put a hand on her arm. “Why are you cross with me?”
“The posturing last night was a bit much, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Did you enjoy flirting with Daniel and that Viking? Were you trying to make me jealous?”
Her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Yes, you horse’s ass, because every conversation I have is a reaction to you. Egotistical much, Murphy?”
“Don’t call me Murphy!” He leaned down and spoke in her ear. “And talk to whoever you like, but don’t shut me out when I’m trying to resolve something. Your door was locked long before dawn. I thought we were giving this a go.”
“Just because you decided something doesn’t mean I agreed to it.” She jerked away, her movements sharp and brittle.
He narrowed his eyes and watched her walk down the dark street, passing her driver, whom she waved away with a gloved hand.
Murphy followed at a distance.
She was angry, yes, but Anne was usually far more mild-tempered, even when she was furious with him. Her steps were long, eating up the cobblestones for two blocks past Terry’s offices, then she turned right onto a larger street. Murphy continued to follow, watching any humans who came too close.
None did. Most humans subconsciously sensed a predator, and Anne was the picture of predatory that night. Her dark, fitted coat swept shapely calves covered in leather boots. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek chignon at the nape of her neck. Gradually her steps slowed toward calculation. Her movements became smoother. Her breath evened out to the rhythm of her steps, and her body transformed into a singular deadly tool.
So that’s why she was cross. She needed to hunt.
Problematic. Especially as close to the edge as she appeared to be.
Murphy could close his eyes and see her face. Watch the cold light that would slide behind her eyes and the flush that would plump her lips. He’d watched her hunt in the past. He knew her tricks and her lures.
She slid behind groups of humans, matching her pace to theirs, following at a distance until they turned or ducked into a restaurant or pub. The hour was late and most were heading home, jumping into taxis or ducking into underground stations for the train.
Anne started following a group of young men who were joking and walking at a leisurely pace. They must have lived nearby, for the three young men turned off the main road and away from the flickering lights and traffic toward a residential area bordering a small park. Murphy hurried to catch up with them before he lost sight of Anne.