Re-Organizing - 2. Chapter 2

As our three-vehicle convoy headed to the airport, I went over a few things with Scott and Billy that I wanted to discuss while on the plane. They not only agreed with what I asked, they added a few things I’d forgotten. We were still talking when Riva pulled up at the passenger discharge area of Carnegie Air Services. Jonesy pulled up behind the Denali in an Escalade, with Josh and his pickup bringing up the rear, our bags safely tied down in the bed.

While we unloaded bags, Riva parked the Denali and Escalade in the parking garage reserved for premium customers. We had six spots, as I currently had three planes paying fees for services, so Ted and his crew were able to park their vehicle, along with the three we brought today. Once the baggage was on carts, Riva quickly parked Josh’s truck and then joined us as we headed toward the plane, where we were greeted by Clint. Ted and Mickey had already done their inspections, filed the flight plan, and whatever other magic they needed done to have us quickly on our way.

As soon as we were in the air and it was safe to do so, I walked to the flight cabin, asking Clint to join me. “Did you guys get moved? Or did you not have enough time?”

“The moving crew you sent got us all settled in, My Lord,” Ted replied.

“Do I have to go through that again, Ted?”

“You’re the Baron of Pittsburgh now, Sir. I can’t bring myself to call you by your name,” Ted argued.

I sighed, “Fine. I wanted to talk to you guys about pay. What’s Dracul paying you? How does it compare to what humans in a comparable position make?”

“We get about seventy percent of what a human makes, My Lord,” Ted said. “But with the house and cars you’re providing, I feel we’re about on par. And, so far, we haven’t worked nearly as often as most human crews, so there’s that.”

I nodded, “Well, I’ve recently discovered that Baronial employees are underpaid and overworked, so if you start falling behind your human counterparts, you come to me; that’s an order, understood?”

“Understood, My Lord,” Ted said with a nod.

“One more thing,” I said. “You are all prior military, so I assume you’re trained in weapons?” They all nodded. “When we get back, I want you to go to the OBR. They will amend your Dracul passports to designate you as Air Marshals and authorize you to carry concealed handguns, unless any of you object.”

“No objections, My Lord,” Ted answered for the group.

I told them, “The castle has an indoor range, and Chief Marshal McNiel will obtain whatever you prefer to carry and provide you with appropriate ammo.” When they all nodded, I asked, “Which of you handles the supplies for the aircraft?”

“That would be me, My Lord,” Clint said.

“Don’t go overboard, but keep the plane stocked with wines, bloods, soft drinks, juices, and snacks. We’ll try to give you enough advanced warning if we’re flying a distance so you can prepare for meals. If your budget isn’t enough, tell me; I’ll supplement it from my personal funds,” I instructed. “And gods help me, call Mary, and keep a bottle of sheep blood onboard for Billy.”

Everyone laughed, and I returned to find Craig and Chipper on the sofa, watching ‘Toy Story’ while Jenny sat beside a sleeping Charlie, reading a romance novel. I sat down and asked my Council to gather around.

“When we return, there are going to be a few changes, some of which you may not like. You are free to express your opinions, but some of these things are not negotiable,” I stated.

They sat, silently waiting. “First off, none of you are to leave the castle grounds without a Marshal. Brian and Chris, I’m going to contact Baron Charleston and then Baronet Morgantown and ask if they would like to provide security or if they would prefer that I provide it from my own pocket. Honestly, I would prefer that I provide it, so Tommy can find two that will fit in. I don’t think you’re at significant risk, but I’d feel better knowing you’re watched over until you move in January.

“Also, Josh, I’ve ordered an armored F350 pickup to replace your truck. You’re free to keep your truck, but like mine, it’s going to gather dust.” Josh just nodded, so I was happy about that. “I also want each of you to go to the OBR and get your Dracul diplomatic passports. They will be designated as security attaché, which will allow you to carry a concealed weapon. Chris and Brian, please leave yours in your vehicles while at school. Legally, that’s a grey area, but I don’t want someone to see it and cause you problems. Do any of you object to carrying a handgun?”

I waited, and when no one spoke, I took that as agreement. “Even you guys that grew up with guns, I want each of you to spend several hours with Tommy, Jenny, or Tony at the range. And at least an hour a month from now on. I want to be crystal clear on this next point. The handgun you carry is your last defense. If you are in a situation, you are to take cover and let your Marshal deal with it. You will not engage an attacker unless all other options have been exhausted. That means you will turn tail and run if you can. Am I clear?”

I looked at each of them and required them to individually acknowledge. “This is so important to me that I’m going to beat it to death. You will not draw your weapon to assist your Marshal in an apprehension. You will not draw your weapon to stop a crime. You will not draw your weapon, even to save an innocent life. Again, you will only draw when your life is in imminent danger.”

“We get it, Greg,” Josh said. “But you know you’re asking a lot, especially that last one.”

“I know I am, Josh, but if any of you get killed while trying to be a hero, I will find a way to bring you back, just so I can kill you myself. I went through enough, thinking I had lost three of you. I can’t go through that again. I won’t.”

“I always thought getting shot couldn’t hurt us,” Trevor said, “but Tony and Jonesy educated Greg and me, and I can see where he’s coming from with this.”

They all stared at this new information, so Trevor and I told them about our visit to the dungeons. Billy and Scott weren’t surprised that silver bullets would prevent healing, but they had never been told and had never considered it. The others were downright stunned. As I told them about the prisoners, I could tell that Chris was uncomfortable about something. When I finished, he spoke up.

“Greg, the confession you got from Lucien Scott can’t be used. He has a right to remain silent, and he’s not talked to a lawyer,” Chris argued.

“Dracul has none of those protections, Chris,” I replied coldly.

“But the US does, and he’s a dual citizen.”

“And you would let him go because our Marshal didn’t read him something from a government they don’t represent?” Jake asked.

“I would ask that he be tried based on all evidence except that confession, Jake. I’m sure that Lucas can say enough—”

“You’d ask a child to testify against his own father?” Brian asked.

“Stop,” I snapped. They all fell silent. “By discussing this now, we are trying him before he even has a chance to present a defense. We will not discuss the details.”

“Sorry, Greg, you’re right,” Chris said. “When we get back, I need to find out what we have as far as some sort of public defender’s office or something.” He thought for a moment, then added, “I really need to find out if he’s actually committed a crime under Dracul laws. And to complicate things further, you haven’t officially made sex with underage vampires a crime.”

I turned and called for Tony and Johnny to join us. We were spread across a sofa, six armchairs, and sitting on the floor, and if anyone saw us, we looked like the teenagers we were, but our conversation was not the typical teen video games and sports.

“Johnny, are you carrying a weapon?” I asked.

“I am, My Lord,” he replied stiffly.

I sighed, “Try to relax, Johnny, it’s just us. Anyway, why are you carrying? I thought you needed training first.”

“Captain Pierce has taken your directive to arm the footmen to heart, Greg,” Johnny explained, “He has a Marshal in the range twenty-four hours. I was able to run down and get an hour or two whenever I was free. The captain deputized me as a Cadet Marshal and, as such, I’m authorized to carry.”

“I’m impressed with your dedication to your new duties, Johnny. It seems you like them?” I asked.

“I do, My Lord,” he said. When I started to object, he cut me off. “I have to say it this way, please. You saved my life, My Lord, twice. You saw something in me that I didn’t see. Now, you’ve given me a way to pay you back by personally serving Your Lordships and protecting you and your children. I am honored and incredibly grateful.”

We all were blinking back tears at the sincerity of his declaration. After a moment, Scott spoke for all of us when he said, “And we are honored to have you serving us, Johnny. When the Baron decides that you have fulfilled your obligations to the Court, we would welcome you to continue honoring us as long as you wish.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” Johnny said, blinking back his own tears. He coughed and asked, “Would you like me to get you anything while I’m up?”

“Thank you, no. I can’t imagine how you’d get past us anyway,” Billy said, waving his arm to point out how we had the aisle completely blocked. “Do me a favor, though. Go help Chipper beat Craig’s ass at Mario Cart.”

Johnny laughed, “With pleasure, Billy.”

When he left, I looked at Riva. He was staring at Johnny as he went to the sofa. When he turned back, he said, “That boy will lay down his life for you, Greg. I pray he never has to.”

“So do I, Tony. The same goes for you and Jonesy,” I said with a smile. “Now, the reason I asked you up here is—”

“I know, Greg,” he interrupted. “I shared my opinion with Hawkeye, and he said—”

“Wait,” Billy interrupted. “You mean to say he’s Hawkeye Pierce?”

“No, Billy, he’s Benjamin Franklin Pierce,” Tony explained. “And he’s quick to tell anyone that asks that he had the name a century before the president and more than two centuries before the television show. It’s just one of those weird coincidences. But of course, fifty years ago, when the show came out, he got saddled with ‘Hawkeye.’”

By the time he finished, we were all laughing, actually holding our sides, laughing. Finally, Scott said, “You mean to say we have Captain ‘Hawkeye’ Pierce in charge right now? Didn’t that episode end in disaster?”

Jake giggled, “Better than Burns.” Which brought on another fit of raucous laughter.

Jonesy shouted, “What are you guys laughing at?”

“Frank Burns,” Josh cried out between gasps.

“Oh, so you know about Hawkeye. Use it, Greg; he might relax a bit around you,” Jonesy advised.

I couldn’t reply, so I just nodded. When we finally settled down, I said, “I’m asking you to explain why our prisoners are not properly fed, Tony. Off the record, just so I can understand.”

“We don’t starve them, Greg. We just keep them a bit short on blood to keep them weaker. Otherwise, we’d have them digging through the rock.”

I looked at my Council, my brothers, and thought about this. Was it just? Or was it cruel and unusual? Did the risk justify the actions? Tony was right; they weren’t starving by any measure, but they were near the point of decay. I waited, allowing my Council time to mull things over, then sighed.

“I won’t interfere, but it’s a fine line, and I want Chris to monitor prisoners. Whatever he says, we do. If you disagree with his orders, come to me immediately so we can compromise. Is that fair?”

“It is, Greg. And according to Hawkeye, he’s only seen all four cells full once, in the 1960’s. Usually, it’s one or two, waiting for Court,” Tony explained. “Can I ask you a question, Greg?” I nodded. “Why are you asking me about this and not Jonesy? He used to be Chief Marshal. He could answer any questions you might have.”

I stared at Tony for a moment, then looked at the others, dumbfounded. I almost opened my mouth and said, ‘Uhhh…’ Instead, I said, “From Monday afternoon when the two of you reacted to a perceived threat, he ceased to be anything but one of my best Marshals, Tony. Unless I force myself to think of it, it doesn’t cross my mind, but of course, you’re right.”

“May I share that with him? He’s wondered why you haven’t pushed him for information. This will help him understand.”

I smiled, “Of course you can, Tony. And you can tell him he’s free to offer me any advice he thinks will help.”

Tony nodded and returned to sit with Jonesy. After a short conversation, Jonesy looked at me with a smile and nodded.

We all sat, lost in thought for a few minutes, and then Josh said, “Hey, Jonesy, could you do me a favor?”

“Sure, Josh, what is it?” he asked.

“When we get home, take Craig to the range. I don’t care if he can hit a barn, but I want him to know how to safely handle a weapon.”

“Is Chipper too young?” Scott asked.

“Never too young to learn how to safely handle a weapon, Scott,” Jenny replied. “I’ll see if Tommy has something he can fire.”

“We do,” Jonesy said. “There’s a .22 caliber target rifle and a .22 pistol he can learn the basics with, if that’s okay?” He glanced at us.

“Wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t, numbnuts!” was Scott’s reply.

Clint stood up and said, “I’m the comedy entertainment on this plane. You all knock it off, or I’m calling the union!” That caused us all to laugh. Then he looked at us and said, “Get out of my aisle. I need to serve drinks. We’ll be landing in thirty minutes.”

“Wrong again oh humorous one,” Ted shouted from the front. “Burbank advises that, due to heavy ground traffic, they are diverting us to Van Nuys. ETA, forty minutes.”

Billy, Jake, and Tony all pulled out their phones. I hoped they weren’t calling the same person, so I just sat back and laughed. I later learned that Tony was calling Captain Vega so she could have a chance of being there to greet us. Jake was calling the FBO at Van Nuys to make arrangements for the plane, and Billy was calling the FBO at Burbank to demand a refund of our prepaid landing fees. I don’t know how they coordinated it, but they did.

Forty-five minutes later, we were descending the steps of the plane. One of the neat things about flying in a top-tier private jet is you can leave Pittsburgh at 1 in the afternoon and land in California at 1 in the afternoon. Of course, it cost a little more in fuel to go that fast, but it was cool.

Vega was able, barely, to beat us to the FBO. With everyone working together, we were loaded into four Escalades and headed for the Beverly Wilshire less than fifteen minutes after the wheels stopped rolling. At the hotel, we were shown to our suite, and I asked everyone to get settled in and then meet in our suite in thirty minutes. Of course, everyone was early, and most were in swimsuits.

After glancing down at my own swimsuit, I glared around the room and asked, “Who told you this was a casual day?” Everyone laughed, and now that they had relaxed, it was time for business. “As this is my first Prince’s Court, I have no idea what to expect other than George telling me what I’ve done wrong. If any of you have been to one of these, I will sit and listen like a kindergartener at story time.”

Jonesy and Vega exchanged a look, and after a nod from Vega, Jonesy said, “The first thing that will upset the Marshals is that a Marshal from the Prince’s guard will greet us and ask us to surrender our weapons. They will be placed in a secure, padded container and locked with two locks. They keep a key, and the senior Marshal of your detail will keep a key. Do not take it as an insult, and do not resist. I’m sure you can understand; with the Prince, three Counts, nine Viscounts, and fifty-four Barons,” Jonesy smiled at me, “They don’t want any sort of incident or power grab.

“They will only allow three Marshals inside; one Marshal to accompany the Baron, one for the Baron Consort, and one for the rest of your Council. Again, it’s not a snub; it’s just logistics. Some of the Viscounts have Councils with twenty or thirty members, so it can be crowded at times. Imagine the chaos if they allowed Marshals for everyone who thought they were important, no offense, My Lords.”

I laughed, “My Council knows they’re not important, so we’re fine.”

Jonesy smirked. “When you enter the building, a chamberlain will announce you. Um…” he paused and seemed unsure what to say.

“What’s wrong, Jones?” Billy asked.

“Well, My Lord, if you’re announced as Baron Pittsburgh, the place will go insane with gossip, as you’ve not officially declared yourself. If you’re announced as unseated Baron Fowler, you’re being dishonest,” Jonesy explained.

There was silence as everyone considered this Gordian knot. Do I risk being seen as disingenuous? Or do I risk causing a scene? I didn’t know how to untie it, but after some thought, I came up with the solution, and George had actually presented it to me; I just hadn’t realized it. I explained my plan, and everyone agreed. With that issue solved, I asked, “Who tells the chamberlain at the door how to announce me?”

“Your Lord Steward, who will not be announced, by the way. Only the nobles and their consorts,” Jonesy explained.

“And then?”

“Then you proceed to the room where the Prince is holding court. Give your names to the Chamberlain, and he announces you to the Court. The moment he finishes, you bow, you approach the prince, stop ten feet from him, and I do mean ten, bow again, then wait.”

“You said a chamberlain the first time; this time, you said the Chamberlain. Is there a difference?” Vega asked.

“Any member of the Lord Chamberlain’s staff acting in that role is a chamberlain. The Lord Chamberlain is the head of the prince’s household, and he announces at Court,” Jonesy explained. Seeing confusion, he grumbled, “Google it.”

“You left me standing in front of Prince George, waiting,” I said, trying to pull us back on point.

“And he might do exactly that, Greg; leave you standing. You do not move, you do not speak, you wait. If he speaks to you, you give a brief reply. Do not volunteer extra information, and do not, under any circumstances, ask questions. If he does not speak to you, he is drawing the attention of the Court to you, to demonstrate his displeasure.”

“And how long do I stand in this pit of silence?” I asked, starting to really dislike Court politics.

“Until he speaks or nods. A quick nod, which most Barons get, is a dismissal, and much better than any silence, but speaking to you shows he favors you,” Jonesy explained.

I thought for a minute, then realized we were keeping people from enjoying the sunshine. “Captain, you may dismiss those Marshals who will not actually be attending the Court. They are certainly welcome to sit here and listen to the torture I am about to endure, but the weather is wonderful, and there’s a pool waiting. I have no plans to leave our room other than to enjoy the pool if Jones here ever stops torturing me.”

Everyone laughed, and Vega said, “You heard him. His Lordship’s personal detail know their duties, as do the rest of you. If you’re not on duty right now, you’re dismissed to enjoy the pool, do some shopping, or sit here and watch the Baron squirm.”

I smirk-glared at her. “I know your boss, Captain.” I smiled and asked, “Did you bring your mate?”

“I did, Greg, and thank you for allowing it. He’s down at the pool, waiting for me. I’m torn between joining him and learning what to expect if I’m ever at Court.”

“Sounds like hours of misery to me,” Johnny said.

“You’ll find out,” Scott reminded him.

Johnny looked confused, then stunned, then scared as he said, “Oh shit, I will!” He then realized what he said and said, “Forgive me, My Lord, I…”

Everyone was laughing so hard his apology was lost in the noise. When things calmed down, I asked Jonesy if he’d like to take a break and get some pool time. He eagerly agreed, so we all headed down to the pool where we had to act like humans. Everyone agreed that Brian was the best at it. It was funny watching the humans when they saw Charlie swimming, but it wasn’t so unheard of that it drew more than passing attention, so I didn’t care. My sons were having a blast. My biggest fear never came to fruition; no one called me ‘My Lord’ in front of the humans.

As I lay on my back with Charlie sleeping on my belly, I glanced around and realized that Captain Vega had Marshals on duty. They were wearing swimsuits and lying within reach of each was a small beach bag that, no doubt, held their firearm. I then noticed other people acting in the same manner, so I focused and searched the crowd. The only reason for these other Marshals being so attentive was there was another noble at the pool, then I saw him. Short, by modern standards, maybe five foot four inches, with olive skin, dark hair and eyes, and looked to be a twenty-year-old human. Somehow, I could sense he was much older than that.

Thank the gods Jenny saw him too because she knew his name. She calmly came over to me, and as she picked Charlie up, she told me who he was. I stood, stretched like I just woke from dozing, then casually headed his way. All on-duty Marshals followed my movement: mine to keep me in sight and his to evaluate a potential threat. When I was ten feet from him, I glanced around to check if any humans were watching.

Seeing none paying attention, I gave a quick neck bow that, to a casual observer, could be my stretching out a kink. I whispered, “Good afternoon, Excellency.”

“Good afternoon. You’ll forgive me; I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“We have not, Excellency. I am Baron Charles Gregory Fowler of Pittsburgh.”

“Ah, the unseated one,” he said, apparently recognizing my name. “The Prince…” he glanced around and lowered his voice. “We have two choices, Baron. We drop the formality, or we retire to a more private setting.”

I smiled and said, “Or, we announce things to the world?”

He froze and I feared my joke had missed the mark, but I thought I had a good read on him, so I had tried. His laugh told me I had hit my target. “I’m not sure our associates would appreciate that, Carlo.”

“My friends call me Greg, Sir.”

“In Sicily, one never referred to a noble by anything but his first given name. As yours is Charles, I took the liberty of using the Italian ‘Carlo’. Would you prefer I stop?” the Count asked.

I shook my head and replied, “Carlo has a nice sound to it, Excellency. As to privacy and formality, I have some fine elk in my rooms if you’d like to join me. We would have the former and could drop the latter.”

“Elk, you say,” he glanced around, and a young vampire, probably six years old, came up to him. “Marco, bring a bottle of my best Faraona to… What room, Carlo?”

“Penthouse. Do you mind if my mate joins us and brings our youngest?”

“So you are the cane furbo that booked the penthouse while my Aiutante was on hold,” Count Nardone said with a grin. “You may want to bring a few Guardie,” he added with a laugh.

“I’ll take my chances,” I said with a smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll collect my son and mate and inform the others of my plans.”

“As will I, Carlo. Shall we meet at the elevators?”

I nodded and backed away, all the while trying to make my motions look normal to humans. I went to Jenny first and said, “The Count and I are going to our suite for a drink. Please keep an eye on Chipper. Scott and I will take Charlie.”

“Yes, Greg,” she said, then added, “You can trust him.”

“Trust him with what?” I asked.

“With anything up to Charlie’s life,” she replied. “Remember, you and he share a bond.”

I nodded. I did remember. I took Charlie from her and headed for where Scott lay on a chair beside Billy. “Billy, Scott, and I are entertaining Count Nardone in our suite. Please let Sylvia know, and keep Jonesy, Tony, and Johnny down here with you. I’m sure we’ll be safe.”

Billy looked concerned, but he agreed. “If I don’t get a message that you’re still safe in an hour, we’re storming the castle.”

I laughed, “Been there, done that, got the barony to prove it.” In response, I got his cute little smile.

As we walked toward the door, eight pairs of eyes followed our moves: our three Marshals and five belonging to the count. Once we crossed the threshold, there were none. As he said, the Count was waiting at the elevator, and as we waited, I introduced him to Scott and Charlie.

“Excellency, may I present my mate, Baron David Scott Warnick. And our son, Charles David Fowler.”

“Warnick… Warnick…” he muttered in thought. “Yes, he was Jakob Werner when he and I shared a ship on our way to this country. And I’ve met your grandfather as well, Scott. Erich Zell’s wisdom was wasted on a Barony. It was sad to hear what the Nazis did to Germany.”

“And the fascists to Italia, Excellency. I will pass your kind words to Opa on Thursday. We are hosting him so he can meet our sons,” Scott said in a tone that would make a diplomat jealous.

“Did you say, sons, Davide?” the count asked, pronouncing Scott’s first name as Da-VEE-deh.

I said, “He did, Excellency. It is a long story, best told over drinks if you don’t mind.” Scott glanced at me as if to ask when our names changed. I shrugged.

“Not at all, Carlo, but please, if you cannot bring yourself to use my name, at least simply use ‘sir.’ Excellency gets so tedious all the time.”

I smiled and said, “No more than ‘My Lord’, sir. But I cannot use your name, as you have not given it.”

He looked genuinely stunned and embarrassed. Quickly recovering, he gave a continental bow and said, “I am Gilberto Nicodemo Nardone, but this, too, is a mouthful. In Seattle, they call me Berto, but ma matri called me Nico.” I noticed that, as he relaxed, his Sicilian accent came out even more.

“I don’t believe I am your mother, sir, so I should call you Berto?” I asked with a smile.

“No!” he gently snapped. “I feel a bond of some kind, Carlo. You? You will call me Nico.”

“I am honored, Nico, by the intimate name you allow me to use and by the passion you put into mine. I am tempted to start using it, but that would blight the vine that is our newfound bond,” I said, finding myself suddenly using flowery language that in another setting would sound ridiculous.

The elevator stopped and when the door opened, I saw the two Marshals casually strolling the hall. When they saw me, they stopped, and then they sensed Nico outranked me, so they gave a bow. Nico nodded, and we let him into our suite. I paused at the door to let the Marshals know that a young vampire would be bringing a bottle, and they were to admit him.

“How do you find Los Angeles, Carlo?”

“Considering autumn in Pittsburgh is so beautiful? I find the sunshine refreshing but tedious.”

Nico laughed and said, “Just wait until the Court. Dante himself could not imagine such torture.”

I poured glasses of the elk and watched as he swirled it around, took in the aroma, and then sipped. “Robust and wild, unfortunately, it would overpower most meals.”

“I prefer it when I am working or contemplating issues,” I said.

“I like the elk,” Scott said. “But I have simple tastes and grew up drinking fresh whitetail.”

Nico nodded. “Si. Fine alone, but I find all four-legged creatures too heavy for a meal. I like to taste my food.” He set his glass down and said, “You were going to tell me of your bambinos, Carlo.”

I started with Scott and I meeting when he was a child, then on to our summer romance, my accident, my changing and suddenly being a baron, and my father’s death.

“Prince Giorgio left my home to rush to your side, Carlo. Quite the honor. And I mourn with you for your patri. I was but five when the wars took ma patri. We are kindred souls, Carlo, but please, I interrupt.”

Scott told him how we received the letter from Dad with his will, all about George’s assistance and our changing Charlie.

“Diu meu, we are kindred souls, Carlo. Ma bambino was changed when he was three days from the womb.” He seemed to think, then said, “The girl, the nurse, she is Jenny?”

Scott said, “She is, Nico. She helped give us our first son.”

There was a knock, followed by Marco bringing in a bottle of blood. As he handed it to Nico, he said, “Eccoti qua, padre.”

Scott’s eyes flew open but he calmly asked, “È tuo figlio, Nico?” (He is your son, Nico?)

Nico smiled and said, “Lui è. Parli Italiano Davide?”

“I do speak Italiano, Nico, but Carlo does not, so I stick to English or German.”

Nico put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and said, “He is my son, Marco. Tomorrow he is six years old.” Nico then rattled off in Italian to the boy.

“Forgive my father. When he gets emotional, his Sicilian roots come out, and he rambles in Italian regardless of the audience. It is nice to meet you, Baron Carlo, Baron Davide.”

“Nico, let the boy stay. We will call for our older son, and they can play,” Scott said.

Marco looked dubious when Scott said play, but Nico nodded, so I sent a mind-to-mind to Jenny, asking her to bring Chipper up. After a moment, Nico looked at us, confused.

“I thought you said you would call for your boy?” he asked.

I stared at him momentarily, then threw caution to the wind. “Do you talk, in your mind, to your mate? Or your Steward?” Nico nodded. “I can talk to my entire clan,” I said as if I was telling him I could tie my shoes.

“Giorgio knows this?”

“I don’t remember if I’ve told him or not. He knows I can talk to him,” I said.

He stared at me, not amazed, not confused, simply considering me and what he heard. Then he said, “Don Carlo, Don Davide, you have my solemn vow. Nothing you say will leave my lips, Dio m'ammazzi!” He lightly smacked Marco.

Marco solemnly added, “I vow as well, Don Carlo. Dio m'ammazzi!”

Scott quickly sent me the translation, ‘May God strike me dead.’

“I am humbled, Don Nico. I don’t know why I deserve such an honor,” I said, suddenly feeling an odd tension.

“If I am honest, Don Carlo, I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to say what I say.”

I turned to Marco and said, “I release you from your vow, Marco. It is not right that your father pressured you to make it.”

“I beg you not to do this, Don Carlo. Ma patri did not force me; he reminded me of my manners. He will tell you I am young, but I am my own vampire.”

Nico nodded and smiled. “Sometimes too much for his own good, Si Marco?”

Marco grinned, “Si, patri.” He turned back to me. “Like ma patri, I feel…” he looked down, “You will laugh.”

I lifted his chin so I could look into his eyes and said, “I would never laugh at someone who is exposing their soul to me, Marco. Dio m'ammazzi, I will never hurt you.”

His eyes watered, and he quickly said, “I feel compelled to serve you, Don Carlo. More than ma patri, more than Principe Giorgio.” Nico gasped. “I’m sorry, ma patri, but it is true. His soul tells me I must serve him.”

Nico spent a long moment staring at his son, then a longer moment staring at me. He bowed his head and said, “I feel the same, mio figlio. But Dio has us as we are, and it is not to be. But we are friends, forever.”

There was a knock, and then Jenny led Chipper into the suite. Nico’s eyes lit up as he said, “Jenny, so good to see you. Adone asks about you often.”

“I think of him often, Excellency. How is he?”

As Jenny and Nico caught up, Chipper came to me, “I’m hungry, Dad.”

“Food or blood?” I asked.

With a grin, he said, “Both?”

I laughed, pulled him onto my lap, and opened my wrist. As I fed Chipper, Scott got an expression I’ve come to know. It means he’s plotting; don’t ask questions, just follow along. I watched as he waited for an opening in their conversation, and then he and Nico rattled on in Italian for a while. Scott pulled out his phone and made arrangements that required him to offer a substantial payment to get what he wanted. When he disconnected the call, I waited.

“Jenny, ask the Marshall to call Captain Vega. Our plans have changed.”

Marco had pulled out a phone and was arguing in Italian. Much like Billy, he may only be a boy of six, but he stood firm. Finally, he disconnected and said something to Nico.

“You will excuse us, Don Carlo; we must dress for dinner,” Nico said, standing to leave.

With Chipper in my lap, I couldn’t stand, but I said, “I’ve enjoyed it, Don Nico. I hope to see you again before this Court is finished.

Nico looked at me, and after Scott said something to him in Italian, he laughed and nodded. “Saluto, Don Carlo.”

When they were gone, Jenny looked at me and asked, “Did you just join the mafia?”