No matter where I looked, however, I couldn’t spot his dark dreadlocks. I was about to descend to the main dining room when my search was interrupted with a burst of cheering as Hedda glided into the room. Hedda, as always, cut a regal figure. She looked both festive and seductive in her shimmering, red gown with white fur trim. She held her head high, and her shoulders back. Her jaw was set and her eyes glinted, as if daring anyone to deny her the right to lead her grieve. This wasn’t an idle threat; she’d twisted off the head of the last vampire who dared cross her. At her entrance, everyone fell silent. Every human bowed, and every vampire went down on one knee to pay her homage. Well, almost every vampire. One pair remained standing, but after exchanging a look, they slowly followed suit, their smiles more like grimaces. My heartbeat quickened. Because Hedda never discussed grieve business with humans, this insolence came as a shock. Until now, I’d thought that everyone in the grieve accepted Hedda as their leader, but apparently not.
