Sometimes human servants were vampires in training, waiting for their masters to initiate them into true undeadness. Sometimes they were simply servants, although their brand of service usually involved a bit more than dusting the furniture. I looked around the collar of her blouse for telltale scars, signs of old bite marks. I didn't see any, but that didn't mean they weren't there, somewhere.
We reached the top of the stairs and entered a narrow hallway. More framed photographs and portraits decorated the walls. They represented different times, different eras; the hair, clothing, and demeanors of the people changed from portrait to portrait as we continued. Did Alette have some kind of obsession with collecting these images?
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," Emma said. She was probably about nineteen. Hell, she might have been working her way through college.
I had to ask. "Do you know what she is?"
She smiled wryly and ducked her gaze. "My family's worked for her for generations. We followed her here from England two hundred years ago. She's been good to us." She opened a door at the end of the hall, then looked at me. "You know better than anybody, they aren't all bad."
I couldn't argue.
My duffel bag had already been brought up to the bedroom. The suite included a full bathroom, with brass handles on the sink and shower. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea. I might even get spoiled. Emma showed me an intercom by the door, a modern amenity in the antique house. "Just ring if you need anything."
I asked for a sandwich. Then sleep. Sleep was good. Sleeping meant I wasn't wondering where the rest of Alette's vampire clan was hanging out, because human minions could only do so much and I was pretty sure she didn't rule her empire all by herself.
Alette wanted me to tell her if I planned on going out. Well, of course I planned on going out. But by the time I woke up, it was full daylight, which meant she probably wasn't around.
So I left a note. I scribbled it on a piece of notebook paper and lay it on the coffee table in the parlor.
It wasn't completely honest of me. Tom and Bradley were probably on call. Alette probably meant for me to tell one of them. I could have gotten a private chauffeured tour of the city—nice, protected, safe.
I'd put my hand on the knob of the front door when I heard footsteps trotting down the stairs behind me.
"Miss Norville!" It was Emma, her brown hair pinned up in a sloppy bun, wearing jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. The clothes made her look young. "Are you leaving?"
I took a guilty step away from the door. "Call me Kitty. I, ah, just wanted to look outside to see what the weather was like." She wasn't going to buy that. I had my backpack hitched over my shoulder. "Alette puts you to work on Sunday, does she?"
"Oh, no. She lets me use the library upstairs to study. It's my last day to catch up on homework before class tomorrow. I was just heading to the kitchen for a snack."
Wow, she really was working her way through college.
"You go to Georgetown?"
"George Washington," she said. She stayed there, leaning on the base of the banister, smiling helpfully. "Have you had breakfast? You want me to fix you something?"
"No, thanks, I'm fine." I wanted to leave. No offense or anything. I fidgeted.
The awkward pause continued. I wasn't fooling anyone. I'd even convinced myself that if I left my car in the driveway out back and used public transportation, they'd just think I was sleeping in late or something.
Finally, she sighed and said, "I can't stop you from leaving. But Alette won't be happy about it when she finds out you went out alone."
Now that didn't make me feel guilty at all. "Are you going to get in trouble if I run off?"
"No. Alette doesn't get angry, not like that. But she'll be disappointed."
And no one liked to disappoint Alette.
"It won't be long. I just want to look around. I'll be back before she even wakes up for the evening."
"Have a good time," Emma said. The statement was perfunctory rather than sincere. She swung around the corner, disappearing through the door to the kitchen in the back of the house.
I felt like a heel. I went out anyway.
D.C.'s famous Metro subway didn't run this far out, but a shuttle bus made stops between Georgetown and the nearest Metro stations. In half an hour I was in the middle of the Mall.
Then I totally, unabashedly played tourist. I couldn't see it all in a day. I probably couldn't see it all in a week, if I factored in museums. Fortunately, there were plenty of companies willing to take my money to drive me around on their tour buses and give me the spiel. The buses even dropped me off in front of just about every museum I could hope to visit. I saw the White House!
All morning and part of the afternoon, I ran around like a maniac seeing the highlights. As I did, I kept my eyes open, looking at the faces around me, wondering. But they were all tourists, round-eyed and cranky. I wasn't going to find any lycanthropes among them. Not that I could scent one across the Mall anyway. They had to be somewhere, though, and I would have liked to have spotted a friendly-looking one to buy a cup of coffee for and ask what was really going on.
I was leaving the American History Museum when my cell phone rang. I just about jumped out of my skin. I'd shoved the thing in my jeans pocket and forgotten about it.
I answered it.
"Kitty?"
"Ben? Where are you?"
"I'm at the hotel. Where are you?" The lawyer had flown into town this morning on a red-eye. We'd reserved rooms at the same hotel—the place I hadn't checked into yesterday.
"It's a long story. We should get together."
"I'm having a late lunch in my room. Can you get over here? I'll order you a steak."
"Make it rare. Thanks. See you in a few minutes."
After a few of hours of walking, I fancied I knew my way around well enough that I could find the hotel by myself, and I was pleased to no end by proving myself right.
It pays to have all the escape routes mapped out ahead of time.
The hotel was a few blocks from the Capitol, within easy reach of the office complex where the committee hearing was scheduled to take place. Ben had given me his room number, so I went right up and knocked on the door. He opened it and went back to the table, where he had a room-service tray spread out, and sat to finish his own steak.
"I suppose that's going on the expense account," I said, closing the door behind me. He just smiled.
The thing about Ben was he didn't stand much on ceremony. He wore a dress shirt, untucked and unbuttoned to expose the white undershirt. He was in his thirties, rough around the edges, weathered maybe. His dirtyish blond hair was ruffled, the hairline receding. On the bed, a briefcase sat open, a storm of papers and legal publications strewn around it. He didn't look like much, but he worked hard.
"Nice flight?" I said.
"Yeah. Great. You look like you've been running all over town."
I probably didn't look too fresh, blond hair plastered to my face with sweat. It wasn't summer, but the city was having a balmy fall. A sticky humidity dampened the autumn air.
I hadn't even thought about the distances involved. Most tourists would probably think it was crazy, trying to cram as much as I had into that little time. But I wasn't even tired. It was one of those times when being a werewolf had its advantages. I could run for miles.
"This place is incredible," I said. "I ran to the Air and Space Museum to see the Wright Flyer, the Natural History Museum to see the Hope Diamond and the dinosaurs, and the American History Museum to see the Star Spangled Banner. They also have Mr. Roger's sweater, did you know that? One of them, at least, the guy must have had like a hundred. This has got to be the most culturally valuable square mile in the U.S." I'd hit the highlights in the big museums, making a sprint out of it. I didn't know when I was going to get another chance to sightsee this week.