“This is a First Folio,” I said to Ned.

“Are you a scholar of the Bard, then?” he asked.

“More like a fan. I majored in English lit, if that means anything. It looks like it’s in really good condition.”

“Hot off the presses you might say,” he said. “It isn’t even listed in the official census of how many First Folios still exist.”

“That’s so cool! You must have seen the plays when they were first being performed—oh my God, I can’t even imagine.”

“I saw most of them, I think. You might say the theater was my life, back then.”

At that, a synapse in my brain clicked into place—the English major coming back online and earning its keep. “Edward Alleyn,” I murmured. “I’ve heard that name before.”

Ned quoted: “‘Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven, that time may cease, and midnight never come.’”

It was obviously supposed to mean something. I stared, blank.

He tried again: “‘What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?’”

Still nothing. “Is it Shakespeare?” I ventured.

He rolled his eyes. One more time … “‘Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?’”

“Oh, that’s Marlowe,” I said. “Wait a minute. Edward Alleyn—the actor?”

“I told you she’d get it,” he said to a beaming Emma.

“You knew Christopher Marlowe. And Shakespeare, you knew Shakespeare—” I put my hand on my mouth. I was now two degrees of separation from William Shakespeare. Back home, Rick gave me such a hard time because I was always bugging him for stories about the famous people he’d met in his over five hundred years of life, how I constantly assumed that vampires must have some kind of insider information, when really, why would they be any more likely to know famous people than the rest of us? But here it was, the reason I asked all these questions in the first place, because sometimes, sometimes, I got the answers I was looking for. What secret corners of history could vampires illuminate, if I could figure out what to ask?

At this point, though, all the questions seemed moot. This man had known Shakespeare. He was a window into an amazing time and place—and I didn’t know where to start. So I teared up and tried to wave away the burst of emotion. Everyone was staring at me and all I really wanted to do was cry from the wonder of it all.

“Is she okay?” Emma asked Ben.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never seen her like this.”

“I get this reaction quite a lot,” Ned said cheerfully. I imagined it was one of the reasons he didn’t bother keeping his identity secret—he’d been a celebrity his whole life, why stop just because he’d become a vampire?

“How?” I managed to stammer. “How did you go from … from there to this? What happened?”

“That’s a much longer story, Ms. Norville. May I get you a drink?” Ned asked.

“I would very much like a drink, yes.”

Ned rang and an attendant—the young woman who’d greeted us when we arrived—brought in a tray with a couple of decanters and several glasses, and we gathered on the chairs and sofas around one of the small tables in the library. Emma poured scotch for Ben, Cormac, and I, and she and Ned sat back to watch us sip. It was probably excessively expensive and luxurious, but all I tasted was the burn. I was still staring at Ned in bewilderment, imagining some scene in an Elizabethan tavern, the actors and playwrights of the day, Shakespeare and Marlowe and so on, gathered around, laughing and drinking, the music of lutes and pipes in the background …

Ben grinned at me. “Hey Kitty, now you’re supposed to ask if Shakespeare really wrote Shakespeare’s plays.”

That broke the spell. “Oh, don’t even start with that. It’s not even up for debate.” But I looked at Ned sidelong. “Is it?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Good. You know, you could end a lot of epic academic debates if you’d just come out and say that.”

“And ruin all the fun? Not me.”

I sighed. “What was it like? All of it—I mean, did he have any idea? Did Shakespeare have a clue that people would be performing his plays four hundred years later, that they’d be held up as the pinnacle not just of theater but of literature?”

Ned shook his head. “You must understand, we weren’t trying to create fine art. We were trying to tell stories. All of us, we loved to tell stories. Well, and we loved the attention. For those who were successful at it, the theater was a very good way to make money. Several of us, including Will, made our fortunes at it, but not from writing or acting—it was from investing in the theaters themselves. We worked for shares and retired when we had enough cash to do so. Of course, most of us didn’t mind a little fame in the meantime. I admit, it’s been an odd experience watching what’s happened to Will’s work over the years.”

“Oh my God. You’re on a first-name basis with William Shakespeare.” My vision went a bit hazy.

“Perhaps a little more scotch, there,” he said, and poured another finger into my tumbler.

My companions hadn’t taken more than the tiniest sips of their own drinks. Ben sat next to me on a sofa, but Cormac had taken a seat apart, in his own chair, and had been studying the room around us, maintaining a bodyguard’s stance.

Now, he leaned forward, setting his glass back on the tray. “I imagine a lot of folks are coming in from out of town for this conference. You probably know just about all of them.”

“You want to know if there’s anyone you need to worry about? Anyone with designs on our Kitty?” Ned said, and Cormac gave an offhand shrug in agreement. “I imagine there are. Many of the Master vampires of Europe or their representatives are here, as well as some from farther afield, along with their entourages. Lycanthropes are attending the conference in some official human capacity or another. Others are here simply because they’re curious. Many vampires and lycanthropes are unhappy with the light that Kitty and others have been shining on our activities, and are here to add their opinions to the conversation. Those are just the ones I know about—there are shadow realms that I know little about and have no control over that surely have a presence here. It’s as if everyone wants to see what’s going to happen next. In the meantime, I’ve declared London neutral territory for the duration of the conference. No battles, figurative or literal, will be fought here. No one will act against you, or they’ll face me. I so will it.”