Christopher Golden by Spike;Dru-Pretty Maids all in a Row

Author:Spike;Dru-Pretty Maids all in a Row
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

London, England

July 17th

For hours, automobiles had been coming and going along Great Russell Street, coming briefly to a stop at the far end to discharge passengers before moving on to unknown destinations. Many others arrived on foot. By five o’clock in the afternoon the Council’s London headquarters was host to the largest gathering of Watchers and operatives seen within its walls in many a year. The table in the fourth floor meeting chamber had been moved back against the far wall and still there was barely enough space for the fifty-odd people standing shoulder to shoulder in the room. Perhaps two dozen others stood in the hall outside the chamber. Most of those in the corridor were Watchers, as it had been made quite clear that the operatives took precedence at this meeting.

There was plenty of grumbling about that, to be sure. The Watchers disliked the idea that mere employees of the Council should be given priority over them under any circumstances. To appease them, several of the and then sat up a bit straighter. “Though decapitation is

directors made room within the meeting chamber by standing out in the corridor themselves. No one could complain outright about their place in the pecking order when the elderly Trevor Kensington stood in the hall alongside them, leaning on his wolf’s head cane.

Though evening approached, it was stiflingly hot outside. For once the windows in the meeting chamber were wide open, and eavesdroppers be damned, as far as Marie-Christine Fontaine was concerned Sweat beaded on her forehead, chest and arms, but she did her best to ignore it, to maintain some semblance of dignity. She stood at the far end of the room, behind the table, with the crush of human beings before her and Sir Nigel beside her.

It was an honor for her, to have been chosen to speak for the board of directors during this crisis. But she also felt that, in some ways, the other members of the board had picked her because she was the only one among them who seemed to have a grasp on the situation. They were all still reacting to the predations of Spike and Drusilla, but Marie-Christine had begun to urge them to take real action, to do something about it.

Sir Nigel moved up close to her. “I must tell you, Mademoiselle Fontaine, that I am still quite dubious about this course of action,” he said in a low voice. “It would be exceedingly detrimental to the Council if our enemies perceived this as a sign of weakness.”

It was all Marie-Christine could do not to roll her eyes and sigh. Image, she thought. Our people are dying and he is concerned with perception.

“Sir Nigel,” she whispered, “if we do-this right, our enemies will never learn of it. And if we do not do it at all, I don’t think I have to warn you of the possible outcome. If the Slayer cannot stop Spike and Drusilla, we may soon be dipping from a dry well.

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