"You are not allowed to attend this part, not unless we call for you," Jeanne quickly muttered to Walden. Alice shot them both a sharp glance, and Antonin was gazing at his brother, obviously wondering what to do.

Jeanne left Walden where he was and joined her progeny. The damned Russian madwoman was still holding on to him. Jeanne threw her a withering glare and, grinning maliciously, the Sadist finally withdrew. She winked at Antonin before departing. He gave her an uncertain smile in return. "What were you thinking, cavorting with that one?" Jeanne hissed at him.

"Cavorting? We were just dancing! Besides, she didn't give me much choice. Hey, Alice," he added to the only other woman who shared their blood.

Alice smiled thinly but made no reply. She obviously suspected that something was wrong. Well, she was quite right about that.

They made their way to the beautifully arranged room where the meeting would take place. There was a long mahogany table at its centre, and fourteen carved chairs. Several carafes containing freshly harvested human blood were placed on the table. The carafes and glasses were pure crystal, of course. It was Catalina's turn to host the meeting, and the woman had a pronounced taste for everything expensive and overly luxurious. It was always pleasant to be her guest. The woman herself took a seat at one end of the table, as it was customary for the hostess to sit across from the Bloodmother. Jeanne and Alice sat with Antonin between them, as if to shield him from the others. If only they could.

She hadn't had time to bring Alice in the loop – or, more to the point, she had been reluctant to do so. The woman was affectionate and understanding enough, at least compared to some of the others, but even she couldn't condone what Antonin had done. This was going to be a lively debate.

Tony sat down gingerly besides Jeanne and saw that Alice had seated herself to his right. He'd had no contact with his maker since their last…conversation at the Burrow, and he had no idea if she'd told anyone yet. From the wary look in Alice's eyes, however, he assumed that she wasn't aware of the situation – and if she wasn't, no one else was. She was, after all, his grandmother, in a manner of speaking.

He felt awkward around Jeanne. On the one hand, she hadn't killed Natalie, as she'd implied, but the fact that she even knew about her was troubling enough. Was she having him followed? On the other hand, while he regretted his outburst – though it was justified, in his opinion – Jeanne hadn't bothered to try to make peace with him. She'd asked Walden to do that for her. Tony didn't know what to make of it, but he supposed that there were more pressing matters. Like finally knowing if he was going to be executed or not.

The blood contained in the sparkling carafe right in front of him was practically calling to him, but he hesitated to pour himself a glass. No one else was drinking. He figured that the others had permanent sources of blood at their disposal. Eventually, Jeanne nudged him in the ribs. "Drink, burn you. How long has it been?" Only a couple of months, in truth, but that was a long time to go without blood, even for an Ancient. The older ones, like Alice's maker, were said to be able to go years without suffering from thirst-induced bloodlust, but Tony was like a newborn, by Ancient standards. However, feeding off Molly had been a traumatising experience that he had no intention of repeating, if it could be avoided. "Now is not the time for you to go mad, my precious child. And do quit that fidgeting. It's making me nervous," Jeanne went on. Tony realised that he'd been fiddling with his tie and made himself stop. He poured some blood in his glass and took a sip. His attempt at restraint was cut short as soon as the blood touched his lips. He drained the glass thirstily and was about to have a second when he noticed the Countess's unpleasant gaze on him. She gave him a crooked smile, showing teeth, and he slowly put the carafe back where it had been. He would have another drink later.

These decennial meetings were mostly intended to hear the Queen's reports on potential new recruits. The fact that Antonin had joined their ranks only a year and a half ago didn't matter – if they were lucky enough to find several people who were worthy of receiving the gift in such a short period of time, they would certainly welcome them. There was rarely more than one person on her list, however, and sometimes none at all.

As was the case today. The 20th century could have provided the Ancients with an incredible number of famous, brilliant women – or men, although women were always preferred to men, it seemed – but sadly, none of them had the spark. Tony himself had never sensed it, that feeling that told an Ancient that a mortal could potentially be turned into one of them. Not that it would ever be of any use to him, of course. Not anymore.

He'd been worried for weeks about the judgement his fellows would pass, but now that he was here, he found himself…well, not composed, and certainly not ready for whatever would come, but at least he would know his fate soon. No more waiting. No more wondering if they would kill him slowly or quickly, or if they would start with Walden and force him to watch.

No more wondering if they would leave Evey to rot. If she was even alive – but Tony was strangely more confident in that fact as time went by. Either Walden's grim optimism was affecting him, or he simply expected that Greyback would have let them know, one way or another, if he'd killed her. He would have left her body where the Order would find it, or… Well, admittedly, that was provided that he hadn't eaten her.

Gods. He had to stop thinking about that. It was making him even more anxious.

"Well, let's begin, then," their hostess spoke in crisp tones. Her English was tolerable at best, the Spanish accent heavy. "I believe you're all aware that Gorgo came to us empty-handed." There was no trace of accusation in her tone, but rather a resigned disappointment. There were a few nods and murmurs of affirmation. "Then I think we should give the floor to Jeanne, who sent ahead a last-minute request that she would like to address us before we discuss anything else." That made everyone frown. This was probably not a common occurrence. Even Alice turned to eye her progeny, obliviously wondering what had happened – and why she hadn't been forewarned. Only the Bloodmother seemed to retain her usual poise, patiently waiting for events to unfold, as she had done for the last five millennia, give or take a year.

Jeanne rose smoothly from her chair. Even standing, she was barely taller than Tony. She spoke quietly but firmly. "I'm afraid I must relay dire news. A grave mistake has been made, and I can only request, in all humility, that you allow me to explain the situation in its entirety before judging." She was quite good at this. Tony wondered idly if she'd learnt the speech beforehand or was improvising it on the spot. She laid a hand on his shoulder before continuing. "My progeny has turned his brother into a vampire, and it was brought to my attention that the man did not have the spark." Before anyone could speak – not that anyone looked able to; most of them appeared horrified, mouths hanging open – Jeanne went on. "You may have seen him earlier. He's the hot one with the missing forearm," she said with her usual tact. That was all she had time to say before the storm finally erupted.

"Shame!" a woman shouted; Tony wasn't certain which one.

"Disgrace!" Catalina yelled. "He must be punished for this outrage! Exiled, or put to death, the true death! I call for–"

"Oh, do shut up, ye bleedin' pox," Alice growled at her. "Let the girl talk, for God's sake." Tony almost smiled at her – almost. That would have been a mistake, he could tell. She did not look happy.

They were all trying to speak at the same time – some in their native languages – and, as a result, no words could be distinguished in the cacophony. The Bloodmother remained perfectly still. Nothing showed on her ageless face. Then she raised a hand, and everyone fell silent at once. Without a word, she gestured for Jeanne to continue.

Jeanne nodded graciously. "Thank you, Mother." She turned to the rest of them. "I understand your reaction. It is not unlike my own upon discovering the matter. But who here has witnessed the death of a loved one, post-transformation?" There were no replies. "No one. None of you – none of us – have ever been placed in that situation."

"For good reason," the Countess snarled. She must have been the one who'd shouted earlier. "Fledglings are never allowed anywhere near their kin after they've been turned. Did you mention that to him? Or are you also responsible for that mistake?"

"An exception was made because of his status. He is a wizard, as you all know, and I knew therefore that his family must be aware of the existence of vampires. I thought it would be no trouble."

"I seconded that decision," Gorgo murmured. "I have always been in favour of allowing the blood and kin to be told, and I–"

"You fools!" This was the Asp. "How was this done without our consent? A vote should have been taken, just like when Jeanne pleaded for him to be turned." She'd voted against him, Jeanne had told him. In fact, most of them had. The turning shouldn't have been approved – Jeanne had received five positive votes against seven negative ones. The Bloodmother, however, who took no part in the vote, could overrule any decision, if she felt like it. For some reason, she'd validated Jeanne's request, despite the majority of nays.

"The Mother sanctioned this, Pat," Jeanne said acidly. She was losing countenance; her hand, still on Tony's shoulder, was balled into a fist. "I didn't act behind anyone's back. I was told that there was no need to consult the rest of you regarding this matter."

Cleopatra, who had once believed herself the incarnation of a goddess – that was the name she had wanted to take for herself, but the Bloodmother, her maker, had decided otherwise – turned to the woman who had ultimately transcended her, but received only a cold stare in return. As if Jeanne would be stupid enough to claim the Mother's assent in her presence if it were not true. The Asp recoiled slightly under that gaze.

"That is not the point," Catalina said. "What is done is done. Now we must discuss the consequences of his terrible crime." She glared at Tony. "Do you realise what you've done, chico? You have ended your line. You have–"

"I know what I did, alright?" Tony said harshly. Alice gave him a warning glance. Of course he bloody well knew. He was also aware that he was the youngest – by far – in the room, but that didn't mean she had to address him as if he were a child, and a retarded one at that. He went on before Jeanne could interrupt him. "But you know what? I'd do it again." He couldn't have said a worse thing, but at that moment he knew that it was the truth, plain and simple. He didn't regret his action, and he would do it again without hesitation.

That brought out curses from some of the others and puzzled stares from the rest. Jeanne pinched the bridge of her nose in despair. Tony expected the Mother to demand silence once more, but she appeared transfixed by him. Her dark eyes seemed to pierce his soul, and he could only stare back, as if hypnotised.

It was Alice who finally called for silence, shouting in what he assumed was Gaelic. "I think that we should first consider the fact that no mere mortal was ever turned by one of us before. We should at least find out the effects that the transformation had on the lad, before we shout the air apart. May we bring Antonin's brother in for interrogation, Mother?"

The original vampire, the maker of all, was silent for a long moment. Everyone waited quietly for her answer. Then she spoke, and this was the first time that Tony heard her voice. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but what came out was a voice like any other, clear and slightly accented, although it seemed to hold all the power in the universe. It was a voice you wouldn't dream of disobeying. "Bring him forth," she said simply, addressing Tony.