The Sword and the Scythe

Chapter 22: Wolves

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Just as the plane was rolling along the tarmac after landing, Thomas waltzed down the aisle into first class and sat back down in his seat next to Charlotte.

"Get all your business done?" she asked, flipping through the in-flight magazine, pretending like she wasn't curious about what'd been so urgent that he'd leave a plane mid-flight.

"Yes. Yes, I did," he said in a tone that all but forbade her from asking more questions, adjusting his collar as the plane came to a stop.

They disembarked and made their way through the Parisian countryside until they came to a large villa. The gates were as massive as they were beautiful—it would have been easier to break into Fort Knox, no matter how artistic those walls appeared. Charlotte was blown away by the sweeping grounds peppered with sculptures and fountains and mazes made out of tall shrubbery. There were several large manors tucked in between the trees on the massive property. It looked like something she'd expect to see in the documentary about royalty she'd seen in one of her European History classes.

Charlotte stepped out of the town car and moved to grab her things. "Don't worry about those—they'll be taken care of for you."

"How long has the European Alliance been here? Wouldn't one of the locals notice a whole compound of immortals by now?"

"The Alliance moved here around 1600 when Anne Boleyn accepted leadership of the Alliance. The Grims of this faction lacked vision and direction before she took control. Since she took power, we absorbed the African and Slavic factions to become the largest and most powerful Grim association in the world." He paused to brush some lint off the lapel of his suit. "And as for your other question—no, the humans have never bothered us here. Apparently, they're too stupid to notice."

Charlotte had a million questions to ask, but before she could decide which to ask first, Thomas took her into the main house. As soon as he walked through the massive mahogany front doors, an elderly footman welcomed them and handed Thomas a sweeping black cloak off a sculpted coat rack in the entry hall.

Thomas slipped the cloak around his neck, never stopping his determined pace across the marble floors. "While you're staying here, you will have your own quarters, but before I have a member of the house staff escort you, Anne Boleyn herself wishes to see you. Follow me."

She followed Thomas to the top floor, past several people in similar dark cloaks minding their own business who didn't so much as take a second glance at her. At the end of a long hallway on the top floor was a pair of double doors with elaborate carvings on the crown molding around it.

They went inside, to find a woman who seemed to be in her late twenties or early thirties standing at the other end of the room behind a dark wooden desk. She had plain features on a slender face with a narrow chin. Her long dark hair was slicked back and fell in a straight cascade down her back. The sleek business attire Charlotte could see in the gap of the woman's black cloak surprised her. Somehow, she had expected the former queen staring back at her, small mouth pursed in annoyance, to be wearing a seventeenth century ball gown or something.

She stretched her hand out to shake Charlotte's. "It's a pleasure to meet you. This is my brother George." She gestured to the man hovering behind her before taking a seat in the large chair behind her massive desk, indicating for her to be seated as well. Charlotte sat, noticing that Thomas elected to hover behind her as if to ensure she wouldn't bolt. "What is it you prefer to be called, dear? I hear you've gone by several different things."

"Charlotte is fine."

"Wonderful. Did Thomas explain to you why we brought you here?"