“The Dutch.”
Anne dropped her pencil. “Really?”
“Really,” Brigid said. “Rens Anker has agreed to come.”
Even Anne knew that the Dutch, once the powerhouse of world shipping in both the human and vampire worlds, had become isolated in recent decades. The patriarch of the Anker clan had been killed mysteriously, and his two sons had taken over. Rens and Bastiaan Anker had taken their sire’s name as their own but had not taken on his public persona. Almost immediately, they’d sold off much of their fleet and focused on domestic issues in the lowlands, most recently scientific and environmental research.
“Gemma’s brother has recently mated into the Anker clan. There’s a relationship there now. She might have taken advantage of that to lure him to London,” Carwyn said.
“The Dutch are unexpected,” Murphy said. “But not unwelcome.”
He’d been quiet for much of the meeting, so when he spoke, everyone turned to listen.
“They are secretive,” he said. “But they’ve always had the widest connections. Asia. Africa. South America. There’s nowhere that they don’t have people. Publicly, they’ve divested from trade. Privately, I’ve suspected for a while that they’re trading in something else.”
“Information?” Anne said. “They’re building a network of spies?”
“They already have the network,” Murphy said. “And they’ve invested in satellite communications, which is almost unheard of for our kind. Look at vampire history. Only three things really retain value. Gold, blood, and information. The Dutch have plenty of gold. Old Jon Anker saw to that. I think Rens and his brother are trying to corner the market on information.”
“That may be,” Carwyn said. “But are they coming to London to buy or sell?”
“Or,” Anne said, “is it more simple than that? Gold, blood, and information. Elixir has the potential to affect everyone. They could be worried about the blood.”
Murphy nodded at her, a smile tipping up the corner of his mouth, and Anne felt a sudden spike of pride for her insight.
Which was quickly killed when she noticed how many notes she’d have to review.
A French playboy.
A Spanish empress.
A Swedish rival.
An American eccentric.
And a Dutch spy.
The conference hadn’t started, and Anne was already drowning.
“I HATE you,” she told her sister over the speakerphone in her secure wing of Brigid and Carwyn’s house.
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“What did Murphy do?”
“Nothing.”
Except kiss me in Galway and remind me that I miss him like a lost limb.
Stare at me during the opera as if he’d eat me alive in the most pleasurable way possible.
Show off his intellect, which has always been the most attractive thing about him.
“Patrick Murphy has been a complete gentleman,” she said. “Unerringly polite and respectful. Painfully welcoming.”
Anne heard Mary suck on her cigarette and release a breath. “Hateful man. That would irritate the piss out of me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Why did you ask me to do this?”
There was a suspicious pause on the other end of the line.
“To help me, of course.”
“And?”
“You need to leave your house more.”
“I am happy in Galway.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“I am. I have a nice life. A peaceful life. I help—”
“You, my dear sister, were about to murder a patient or go on a killing spree in the local village.”
Anne’s mouth dropped. “I was not!”
“I could hear it in your voice.”
“I’m a healer, Mary.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not a vampire, Anne. You needed a challenge. We all do. And you have been hiding there ever since that man broke your heart. There’s something restless in you. Something wrong. I’ve been sensing it for at least two years.”
“So you throw me into a situation where I have to interact with Patrick? That seems… torturous and excessive.”
Mary paused. “Torturous?”
Too much.
“Not torturous.” She tried to backtrack. “Irritating.”
“You didn’t say irritating, you said torturous. There’s a distinct difference.”
Anne made an angry fist at the phone. “I hate you.”
“So you said.” Her sister’s voice had taken on a decidedly suspicious tone. “You still have feelings for him.”
Anne tugged on the wrap she’d thrown around herself.
“Of course I have feelings,” she said calmly. “It’s impossible not to have feelings for someone—”
“Don’t use the psychologist voice on me.”
“I am a psychologist, and this is my voice. Therefore—”
“You have feelings for him. You’ve never gotten over that man, have you?”
“Do you have to say ‘that man’ in that particular tone of voice? It’s like you think of him as a disease.”
“He is.”
“I daresay he’s probably improved over the past seventy years.”
“He tried to take advantage of you, and then he broke your heart!”
Anne had nothing to say because Mary was correct. In all her sister’s struggles to attain power, she’d never once asked Anne to use her influence on a rival. Not even when her own life was at stake. Never had she put her sister in danger or hinted at using Anne’s power to her own advantage.