To her right, at the same time, Alban’s chin lifted, faint motion that spoke volumes from a creature born to stone. Beyond him, Malik stiffened, the one reaction out of four that struck Margrit as actively negative.

"Are we five to make this decision?" Alban asked. "Without regard for what the rest of our people might say?"

"I wouldn’t complain, Stoneheart," Janx said. "This is to your advantage. I think your lawyer would advise you to accept responsibility here and now, and deal with the consequences later." He arched an eyebrow at Margrit, who sighed.

"Of course that’s what I’d advise. I don’t think he’ll do it, though. Self-promotion isn’t exactly his strong suit. How many gargoyles are nearby? I know Biali."

"There’s an enclave in Boston," Janx said, after Alban’s silence stretched out. "Half a dozen or more. One or two in Philadelphia. Several in Chicago, in D. C. A few in Atlanta. One in Baltimore, heaven knows why. There are others, but those are the closest. The oldest is in Chicago."

"Remind me to ask you, not him, if I ever need to know where dragons are," Margrit said to Daisani, then turned her attention back to Janx, who smiled toothily at her. "Oldest as in older than Alban, or oldest of the others available?"

"Both. Biali’s older than Korund, for that matter."

"Biali," Alban growled, "chooses passion over intelligence. He should not be trusted at a quorum."

"Speaks the gargoyle who left Europe over a broken heart," Janx said. Alban curled a fist and Margrit stretched to put her hand on it, wondering too late if the gesture would be welcome. His fingers tensed, then relaxed, and she withdrew her hand again, hoping his response was a positive sign. "Find a suitable replacement or carry the onus of deciding yourself, Stoneheart. Malik seems to have no qualms about thrusting himself into a position of power."

"Malik is not exiled among his own people."

"That was a lot more diplomatic than I would’ve been," Margrit said beneath her breath. Malik, silent throughout the proceedings, bared his teeth at her as if he were a dragon or a vampire, not a djinn at all.

"Three days hence," Daisani said with finality. "It’s enough time for Malik and Alban to establish themselves or find other proxies before we gather and decide the fate of the selkies. Margrit, you’ll be our moderator." Delight warmed his thin face, making him almost handsome. "Our token human." His smile faded and he rose to his feet. "Now. If you have a moment, Margrit, I’d like to speak with you."

At her side, Alban exhaled as though defeated, and when she looked at him he was moving away, the others following suit. She clenched her teeth and waited for the room to clear before falling in step with Daisani, who remained silent until they left the building. "You lied to me, Margrit."

Margrit locked her knees against collapse, and nodded, wishing Daisani had chosen a stretch of ground nearer the ice rink to confront her. She didn’t trust her legs to hold her, and the chance to lean against the railing would have been welcome. Alban walked several feet ahead of them, less a pillar of support than she might wish. "Only a little." Her voice was scratchy and she cleared her throat, managing a smile. "I was sort of impressed with myself."

Daisani’s expression wiped her smile away. "How much of this were you aware of?"

"Kaimana wouldn’t tell me what he was planning. He wanted to talk to you and Janx, but I didn’t know he was going to have an army of loyal followers show up. He thought if I knew what was going to happen, you’d consider it a betrayal." She laughed. "And that that would be bad for me."

"He’s right. How do I know you’re telling me the truth now? You’ve successfully lied to me once already."

"I really didn’t. I just didn’t tell you everything, and you weren’t expecting that. I wouldn’t dare try again. Scout’s honor." She held up three fingers, then folded them down again, hand trembling. "You were still fastest off the mark. Accepting their legitimacy. Offering yourself as an ally." Her voice steadied as she spoke, edge of hysteria fading from it. "Or a leader."

"Not at all." Daisani shook his head once, then abruptly turned and walked away. Margrit cast one wild glance at Alban, then ran a few steps to catch up with the vampire. "Our peoples don’t accept leaders from other groups. At best I might be a power behind the throne."

"I’d think that would suit you just fine. Either way, the economic potential is-"

"Staggering." Daisani’s typical front of good cheer re-emerged. "Oh, not within the context of human society, perhaps, not really. But as a position of power within the Old Races, for accomplishing anything I might want done…"

"Like what?" Margrit demanded, boldness overruling wisdom. "What do you want, Mr. Daisani?"

He stopped and peered the scant distance down at her. "Even if I were inclined to answer that, my dear Miss Knight, I wouldn’t do so with your gargoyle lover hanging about. I trust we’re not going to have a repetition of today’s fatuous behavior in the future, are we?"

Margrit swallowed down a panic-induced apology, hoping understatement would prove more effective-and dignified-than gibbering promises. "No."

"Very well." He nodded as if satisfied, then gave her a brief smile. "Do pass on my regards to your housemates, Margrit. Lovely girl, that Cameron Dugan. Strong and vital." He strode across the plaza, covering distance rapidly for a man his size, and didn’t look back.

Margrit stared after him, alone for a handful of seconds before Alban joined her, lines etched deep around his mouth. She transferred her gaze to him, then jerked it back to Daisani. "Did he just threaten to eat Cameron?"

"I doubt he’d put it that way," Alban said, but grimaced when Margrit shot an accusing glare at him. "Yes."

"How do you kill a vampire?"

"What?" Alban lost his usual aplomb and gaped at her.

"How do you kill a vampire?" Her voice came out high and thready, but full of anger. "Is it really holy water and wooden stakes? Garlic? Silver crosses?"

"Margrit, can you think of anything that wouldn’t die if you thrust a stake through its heart?" A hint of humor colored the question, but faded quickly. "Wood isn’t the important part. I don’t know if you’ve seen how fast he can move."

"I have. So it’s managing a kill shot that’s important, rather than the specific tool used?" Margrit set her jaw, watching Daisani, little more than a silhouette in the distance, climb into his chauffeured Town Car. "That’s good to know."

"Margrit, you’re not going to-"

"Like I could. I’m not kidding myself. Still, I’d rather know he’s got a vulnerability than be completely unarmed if I need the information." She folded her arms around her ribs, scowling at the gargoyle. "So you’re talking to me now."

His expression grew wary. "Janx told me how you’d solved your dilemma with Malik. Margrit, I’d intended-"

"It doesn’t matter." She pressed her lips together until they hurt. "It doesn’t make any difference, Alban. I did what I had to."

"What you thought you had to."

She shrugged. "There’s no difference."

He caught his breath and held it a moment, then exhaled deeply. "Perhaps not. And you’re now more embroiled with our people than ever before."

"I’ve been telling you all along that there was no way out. I wasn’t even looking for a way out. That was all you. It’d be easier if I’d never met you, but I did, and now I know the things I do, and there’s no going back." Margrit thinned her mouth again. "Like I said, you guys aren’t much of a fairy tale. You can’t undo me knowing about you."

"But the life you had…. I am saying this poorly." Alban’s voice deepened. "Perhaps I made mistakes in trying to protect you the way I did. But I found there was hope in me, when Janx told me of your decision. I…do not want you to leave my life."