Armed with new confidence, and grateful to be of use finally, Emery jotted down the Jairus faction under the enemy column. " Any individuals not present that should be investigated due to security and loyalty concerns?"

" Two familiars – both have been unreliable lately," Everyone studied Emery, and Darren's unblinking stare put the human on edge. She took a deep breath, waiting for him to elaborate, and when he didn't, placed the pen back on the table top.

She swore he sneered at her. " And they were never unreliable before?"

Darren chose his words carefully. " Familiars are like toys. When they become useless, we remove them. Those that are deserving are turned," She sighed and shook her head. " That is the world you inherit,"

Her brow rose.

This invited the rest of the group to actually speak to her. " Our familiars know their place and have their own ranks. If they haven't risen in their own ranks, they don't even qualify for being turned,"

" Why would a familiar require immortality anyway? They're not the cattle-"

Lowering her head, she inhaled deeply. " This is what we are going to do. We are going to go from person to person. Introductions will be made as we go around the table. " Mr. O'Sullivan, and everyone else, I don't care what you think about familiars and what role they serve. I don't care if you're trying to prove a point to me. I don't care who you are, how you rank, and what you want. What I care about is names, circumstances, enemies, allies, assets, and resources. So, Mr. O'Sullivan, I need names of the familiars and any other concerns," She picked up the pen again, quite certain she just disappointed Drake and didn't give a damn. Six minutes later with a list of names and affiliations, she moved on to the next member of the group.

Each individual offered a new flavor of migraine. Halfway around the large table, the migraine peaked. Shortness of breath forced her to drop the pen and publicly place a hand to her chest. Each breath dragged from her more mental anguish at the slipping away of mortality. " The turning is uniquely devastating. A true torture. First your clarity. Then your morals, until all that remains is the monster within," Drake's deep voice invaded the singular focus to breathe.

She turned to the left. A younger Drake with brown long hair braided down his back sat in the chair completely out of the current element. Light leather armor sporting dirt and blood covered him head to toe, his skin miraculously unblemished.

The vampire language distracted her long enough to look away, scan the table, and look back.

The hallucination – how else would the Drake next to her exist? – did not dissipate and she didn't dare reach out and touch it. " Unable to concentrate? Soon your heart will cease to beat and you will wake a full fledged vampire,"

" Shut up," She said.

" When you feed, I will be there. Savoring the knowledge that you are mine. Forever-"

She pushed the chair back violently, the scraping of legs on stone flooring. " Fuck this. I am not some fucken saint or perfect little-"

Two big hands gripped her shoulders. " Emery,"

The American stared blankly past his arm, boring a visual hole into the man seated next to her.

" It's just a vision," He whispered.

Finally she turned from the younger Drake to the older Drake, rapidly collecting her scattered attention into a prepared apology. She refused to apologize to the hallucination and wished to simply withdraw.

Drake nodded to O'Sullivan. " Close the door," The visions she suffered now marked the beginning of the physical transformation. He removed the sheathed dagger from his leather jacket and placed it on the table. Death sped up the transformation. He always intended to plunge the ceremonial dagger through her chest and heart, now presented the best opportunity. " Sleep well, my Queen," Releasing her, he unsheathed the dagger. No one saw the dagger before it buried into the woman's chest, the simple hilt proudly sticking out.

Shock twisted her visage, and then she limply fell into him. He eased the dagger from her chest cavity with expertise. The legal pad fell to the table top as the pen fell to the floor. Lowering her into the chair she abandoned, Drake proceeded to clean off the dagger blade with a white cloth. " As my Queen started the meeting, I will finish it," He took back the legal pad and pen, picking up where she left off.

They reviewed the last half of the table's information. O'Sullivan occasionally glanced toward the dead woman, pitying her. At least his creator eased him into world. Drake tossed his queen into it without a life jacket.

Drake waited till only Darren remained after dismissal. " Are there any familiars ready to be turned?"

" None, Your Lordship,"

" Are there none that have proved themselves?"

" None that are worthy," Darren repeated firmly, holding open the door.

Lifting his queen into his arms, Drake cradled her close. He walked her back to the car and placed her in a body bag. Darren dutifully followed Drake the entire distance. " O'Sullivan, as soon as you're able, you will travel to Paris with one familiar to be turned," Alone in the car with Emery in the trunk, Drake plotted his next step carefully. He refused to turn anyone who did not prove themselves to him, and he needed an army that he could control. Emery needed to be a powerful figure in the vampire community. His solution used her abominably and spared him the trouble of campaigning endlessly for loyalists. Familiars wanted to be turned, his queen would need to feed and control herself. She wanted control. If she turned his army, then he earned not only a loyal queen but also a loyal army.

First they needed to return to Paris.