Vampire's Pawn: Kit Melbourne, #9

By Kater Cheek

Can Kit serve a vampire warlock without becoming evil herself?

When vampires in Austin break the centuries-long code of silence, bloodsuckers around the world are forced to choose sides. Vampire Guild Leader Holzhausen allies with the traditionalist Quieters who kill those who speak the truth about their kind. Kit feels duty-bound to support her patron, but as a tsunami of vampires take to social media, the enormity of her boss' position grows untenable.

As Holzhausen uses dark curses and assassinations to solidify his political base, Kit realizes that the only way to keep from becoming complicit in her mentor's massacres is to escape the city. But when a betrayal thwarts Kit's plans to flee, she finds herself faced with an unspeakable choice: murder a friend or endanger her family's lives by refusing.

Will Kit remain loyal to the warlock who trained her or die for refusing to cross an ethical line?

Vampire's Pawn is the ninth book in the Kit Melbourne series. If you like character driven urban fantasy with an ethically nuanced plot, then you'll love Kater Cheek's dark novel.

Buy Vampire's Pawn to take a stand against evil today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kater Cheek
• Release date: Apr 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393555735

Book preview

Chapter One

Kit’s dance partner was a gloriously handsome vampire in an expertly tailored tuxedo whose husband had been kind enough to allow Kit to steal him away for a few dances. Kit had already coaxed as many dances out of Fenwick as she thought she could get out of one wedding, which meant if she wanted to dance the night away, she had to hit up the vampires, especially those raised in the early twentieth century, where dancing was seen as a skill a man ought to possess. Wedding plus vampires equaled dancing, and Kit intended to make the most of it. Her dance partner had been turned in the 1920s and was very good at the Foxtrot and the Charleston, but also knew the Funky Chicken, the Electric Slide, and the Macarena. He had kept up with the times.

The wedding was held in a historical mansion about an hour’s drive outside of Philadelphia. Polished woodwork and lush carpets made the fully restored robber baron’s palace shine like new. When the crush of the crowd became overbearing, guests retreated to balconies which held moonlit views of the acres and acres of elegant formal gardens, sadly dormant for the winter.  Kit and Fenwick had brought the whole family to the east coast, including their favorite babysitter Heidi, who watched the kids at the hotel while Kit and Fenwick got dolled up for what was likely to be the fanciest event they would attend all decade. Fenwick got a new jacket with tails and a white waistcoat, spending more on one outfit than he’d normally spend for an entire year of jeans and flannel. Fenwick stood taller and broader of shoulder than most men. His barrel chest was hairy, and he had a splendid reddish beard. Kit had a new dress, satin in a becoming apricot color with crystal beading along the neckline. It had a full skirt, and when she twirled, the skirt flared up to reveal bright teal lining. She even had elbow-length beaded gloves, though she’d grown frustrated with them and left them on the table with her husband.

How do you know Mr. and Mrs. Emory?  Are you friends of the bride? her dance partner said diplomatically, likely assuming that Kit, as a human, would be friends with the human half of the newlywed couple.

I’m a Dayrunner, Kit explained, delighting in her partner’s clear signals. Really, a skilled lead could make anyone seem like a good dancer. Mr. Emory knows my boss, Guild Leader Holzhausen of Seabingen.

That statement was both completely the truth and completely misleading. She had a reputation among vampires, some of it deserved, some of it overblown, and some of it a pale shadow of the truth. She had killed some infamous vampires, and in certain circles her name was bandied about like an invocation of the angel of death. Others thought she was merely the human flunky of a vampire of some repute.

That’s in the Pacific Northwest, isn’t it? Guild city? Quieter neighbor of the Sea-Tac alliance?

Kit nodded, then ducked under her arm for the spin.

Has the news of the vampires going public in Austin reached there yet?

The shit from that particular fan has splattered to every corner of the world, Kit said, pausing to do a dip. Or so I’ve heard.

What’s your Guild’s take on it?

Vampires don’t exist, Kit said with a straight face. They are nothing but fairy tales and those poor delusional Texans are in need of professional help.

Fiddling while the ship sinks. I hope you have an escape plan, my dear— the vampire broke off as he caught sight of the small gold spiral ring on her middle finger, next to her wedding band and engagement ring. You’re Kit Melbourne.

I am.

He looked up at someone past her, released her hands, and gave a half-bow. If you’ll excuse me.

Even though it was the middle of the song, the vampire vanished, scurrying off mid-step, leaving Kit with one hand upraised and her weight on her back foot. A moment later, the groom, David Emory, took her hand and resumed the dance.

Shouldn’t you be dancing with Madison? she asked.

She says her feet hurt. And she wanted me to talk to you about the political situation.

She frowned and cocked her head, inviting further clarification. David was only forty years old, though he appeared younger, and was not as skilled a dancer as her previous partner.

Do you need asylum? he said. Our guild may be able to find a place for a woman of your talents, but it would take a few months to arrange anything.

Why would I need asylum? Kit asked. David only led her in the most basic of steps, so it was easy to follow his lead. Does she know something?

She doesn’t often know things, more like senses them. She asked me to offer you asylum, said she got a sense of you fleeing something.

Fleeing something? Kit asked. She couldn’t imagine fleeing Seabingen. It had been her home for most of a decade and was the safest place she knew. She had the Guild on her side inside the city and her city-wide ward to protect her from vampires from outside. True, Adamiak was always telling her to watch her back, but Adamiak was paranoid. As long as Holzhausen was Guild Leader, Kit would be safer in Seabingen than anywhere. What would I be fleeing?

This thing with the Austin vampires is going to cause a lot of drama, no matter what happens.

Don’t you think it will blow over? She tried to picture a world in which vampires were publicly out and accepted. How would people react? Pitchforks and torches? Or would it be like celebrities living in their midst? Up until now, vampirism had been like reiki; everyone knew what it was, but most people didn’t think it was real. There will always be believers and always be skeptics, no matter the evidence.

David sighed. My elders think so, but some of the older vampires are out of touch. In the day of the Internet, it’s harder to put the genie back in the bottle. Have you seen their videos? They have millions of subscribers. Madison thinks this might get ugly.

Thank you very much for thinking of me, she said. I hope I don’t need your offer.

The song ended, and Kit headed back towards the table where she’d left her gloves. She passed Aaliyah and Tien dancing together on the dance floor, Aaliyah in her emerald bridesmaid gown and Tien in pale blue. It was hard to tell who was leading whom, but they made up in love what they lacked in skill. She smiled. Happy couples made her feel sunny inside.

Two vampires were seated in chairs next to the table. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, said the first vampire. The vampire appeared to be a hundred or more years old, and had double braids up over her forehead and a mauve bustle in a very outdated style, though by her face she wasn’t much more than nineteen when she’d been turned. Every other time, the more conservative ones have quelled rumors before they could get out of hand. Bloody time. Very dark days. the vampire shook her head.

This time it’s really going to take, said another vampire sitting next to her, who wasn’t much younger than the Victorian-aged teenager. This woman had feathered side-bangs and blue eyeshadow as if she could only be bothered to update her style every fifty years. Too many people know about it. The videos. The Internet. How to keep that quiet? They’d have to murder tens of thousands. Who has the money for all those assassins?

The truce forbids assassinating here, the one with the braids said sharply to Kit. Keep your stakes to yourself.

I’m not an assassin, Kit said, sliding her hand into her glove. I’m a wedding guest.

I know who you are and who you work for, the one with the feathered side-bangs said. Master of the House of Sharp Wood, Grant Holzhausen’s pet human. Is he a Quieter or does he side with the Austinians?

He hasn’t declared one or the other, Kit said, although she knew her boss was conservative enough that he was probably on the side that wanted to keep things quiet. She slid her other glove on, for something to do with her hands as much as anything. And I’m off the clock. Really, I just came here for the food and the dancing.

And the library, she didn’t add. David Emory’s mansion in Philadelphia had a secret room that held amazing tomes full of wisdom. The gloves hid her gold spiral ring that marked her as being a member of the Society which, among other things, granted her permission to view the library. Every time she went there, she found tantalizing hints of occult knowledge. A spell to make people fear you. A spell to summon sparrows. And the thing she was most interested in, how to unravel the curses of others. Ever since she’d nearly lost her life to a warlock, Kit had been obsessed with learning how to defend herself from that kind of blood magic, and how to unravel a curse. She’d done it successfully once, but the more she learned, the more she realized how much she didn’t know.

The library had an excellent cataloguing system. The issue was that the ink used for most of the books could only be viewed with the second sight. Fortunately, her bindi made this easy for her, as this was her inherited magical jewel’s primary power. While the computer system could tell you which volume contained which information on which page (if someone had input it), she had to open the book and read it and painstakingly copy anything useful out by hand, as photos would not work. And every once in a while, she ran across something that hadn’t been catalogued. These little surprise nuggets were like finding hundred-dollar bills in the house of a deceased hoarder relative; every one she found convinced her to keep looking. She needed both time to study and time to practice. Honestly, she needed a coven. She’d been practicing by asking her brother to cast curses on her so she could detect it, but there was a limit to his ability. She needed other witches to be her cursing sparring partners.

Kit had been able to create the Hawthorn Hex which protected her city due to this monomaniacal obsession. Diagnosis, dissolution, grounding against backlash. Magic was a puzzle, half art and half science. It was like composing music you couldn’t hear on an instrument which may or may not exist, and you only knew it worked if the dogs began to bay.

The vampires had begun to speak sub vocally, in that way vampires did when they didn’t want humans to eavesdrop. It happened a lot at work, and Kit was used to it. It was like people speaking in another language around you, only if it had merely been another language, she would have learned a few phrases by now. Vampires were physically stronger than humans, faster, with better hearing and better night vision. To many vampires, and some humans, those physical advantages translated to a kind of intrinsic philosophical superiority.

She still remembered what Walker had said, before the blood sacrifice which almost gave him enough power to kill her. A vampire was always superior to a human. Kit didn’t believe that—she had known too many vampires to believe they had more worth than humans—but it was taken for granted that humans were more valuable than animals. Was there any truth to that? Or was a life the same as a life? If she killed a mouse (not that she felt comfortable with blood sacrifice, but she would kill a mouse if it got in her pantry) would that give her enough power to cast the kind of immobility curse that Walker had done? Or was a mouse’s life less than a human life? And who determined what the value was? The mage? And would a blood sacrifice be needed to counteract the curse that originated from a blood sacrifice, or would it make it worse? The more she learned, the more she discovered she didn’t know. Even practitioners of magic often had no knowledge or curiosity about the inner workings of their craft.

Kit blinked as a large hand waved in front of her face. She followed it up to see her husband. He looked absolutely resplendent in his white tie and tails. His outfit, like hers, had come with gloves but he also had ditched them somewhere along the way as being too fussy. He’d gotten his beard trimmed and a haircut, which made him look even handsomer, and best of all, he was holding two bottles of beer. He handed her one.

You were a million miles away.

Kit blushed. She took the beer and clinked her bottle to his before drinking. Guilty.

Everyone’s talking about the Austin vampires, Fenwick said. I’m smelling a lot of anxiety.

Would you mind taking the kids to the museum tomorrow without me? Kit asked. She blinked up at him through her lashes, shamelessly acting the coquette. I’ll make it up to you.

Fenwick laughed. You want to go to the library again, don’t you?

Kit pulled her lips in and nodded. She’d had an epiphany about blood magic, something about the opposite of blood being wood and sunlight, and she wanted to see if she could find any references to it.

Chapter Two

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Kit had an airtight alibi. She’d been at Jade’s elementary school Fall Harvest Festival when several underwater canisters of chemical explosive were detonated remotely under the pontoons supporting the shore-side half of the Guild House of the Vampire Guild of Seabingen. The three separate explosions (a fourth bomb had been found, but forensics later determined that it didn’t explode because its primary detonator was faulty) combined with deferred maintenance, were enough to finally sink the houseboat which had served as the main office and meeting location for Guild activities for the better part of a century. The gasoline-fueled firebomb which tore off half the roof before tearing through what was left of the ancient vessel like a heat-searing maelstrom was completely superfluous, had the arsonists goal been merely to sink the Guild House, but it did destroy quite a bit of documentation.

It happened early in the evening, which meant that instead of the usual crowd of thirty or so vampires and a half dozen human initiates and petitioners, the Guild House mostly held administrative staff. Jenkins, who had been the Guild’s secretary for as long as Kit could remember, had been in Holzhausen’s office doing paperwork. He could certainly have survived a sinking houseboat, and while the firebomb burned half his hair and skin, as it did for Siang and Carr, who were also in the building, Jenkins received the bulk of the shrapnel from the sixth bomb, which had been placed in Holzhausen’s office sometime during the previous day. Even a vampire couldn’t survive having his chest blown out, his brain cooked, and drowning in one night. Two of the humans died of smoke inhalation, and one of the initiates was still in the hospital being observed for signs of pneumonia and exposure after his near-drowning when the boat sank. But, in the Seabingen vampire forums, Jenkins was the only one mentioned as a victim. Kit wasn’t surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised. To vampires, humans didn’t matter the same way. Sometimes they treated her with respect, and sometimes they treated her as with affection, like a mascot, but they felt about humans the same way Instagram influencers felt about the brown people who posed in the background of their exotic location shots. Necessary, yes, useful, yes, but hardly real people that mattered.

Kit didn’t like to troll the vampire forums. Spending any time on social media felt like the emotional equivalent of cleaning the goo that gathered in the corners of the fridge drawer, and the Seabingen vampire forums were no exception. She wasn’t even supposed to have a password, but Adamiak had given her a guest login, and she dutifully checked it at least once a day, to keep abreast of the gossip in town.

Like most social media, there was an inverse relationship between the quantity of a vampire’s postings (and confidence in the veracity of their information) and how close they were to the actual center of power. Much of this was due to age and comfort with technology. Holzhausen never posted anything. He eschewed text and email. When he did write, it was in spindly Copperplate with a fountain pen as often as not. The only thing he told her about the explosion was a brief email that she should meet him at his house instead of the Guild House for work the following evening. Everything else she learned about the explosions and the aftermath came from an email forwarded to her in the early morning from verified news sources within the Guild, followed quickly by instructions to whom she might disseminate this information (Guild members) and to say nothing to the media. Kit had ample opportunity to do the latter as news sources somehow universally decided she was the daytime media contact. Several news sources sought comments about the explosion and if it was true that two of the injured parties (Carr and Siang) were vampires.

I can’t comment on that, Kit said repeatedly. She had not been trained for PR. Dayrunner wasn’t supposed to be human media wrangler. Dayrunner was supposed to be more like an executive administrator with maybe a little bit of button man on the side. She ran errands for the Guild Leader, acted as his agent sometimes, kept up the spells that kept his property and the city-wide ward safe. But, she did what was asked of her, no matter how odd or outside her scope.

When Kit pulled into the gravel lot behind Holzhausen’s farmhouse the following evening, she heard the barking of dogs, followed by a woman’s sharp command and Holzhausen’s low reply. Two dark canine shapes were running pell-mell around the outskirts of the property. Holzhausen stood glaring at them.

Kit’s boss, Grant Holzhausen, the Vampire Guild Leader, was an imposing man. Although not especially tall, with a shorter-than average build and a face crying out for a Snapchat filter, he had a foreboding air about him and a way of drawing attention when he walked in a room. Perhaps it was his skill at sorcery, or the ordinary magic of a powerful man. But she was accustomed to him. She’d been working for him for several years and had saved his life on more than one occasion. Holzhausen, in return, had been an exceptional mentor to her. But because he was so familiar to her, she forgot sometimes how utterly creepy he was. Today he seemed in a dire mood.

The woman next to him was just as tall as Holzhausen, though she had a thin, angular look to her, like she’d been created from a fashion sketch. She had jet black hair in a pixie cut and cheekbones that jutted out, highlighting her sharp features. As Kit closed her car door and approached, the woman stuck fingers in her mouth and gave a quick whistle. The two dogs ceased barking and dashed closer, stopping to sit at the woman’s feet obediently when she gave a palm-down hand gesture.

Impressive, Holzhausen said. But they do not behave that way for me.

Dog training takes consistency and time, the woman said, and as she leaned back, moonlight shone through a gap in the bare branches of the trees on Holzhausen’s property, revealing the long snout and incredibly wide ears of a doe. A moment later the image vanished, but Kit had seen enough to know the woman was a shapeshifter. The woman turned towards Kit. Is this your assistant?

Yes. May I introduce Kit Melbourne? Melbourne, this is Artemis White.

I’m very pleased to meet you, Artemis said, and as she shook Kit’s hand, she smiled at Kit as if Kit were the most interesting person she had met all day. Mr. Holzhausen says you will be taking over the training. Do you have any experience with dogs?

No, Kit admitted, and then looked at the dogs. She and Fenwick had talked about getting a dog for years, but never thought they’d have enough time to take care of it. Holzhausen had even less time, and he was trapped in his house during daylight hours. The dogs were Great Danes, and seemed as large as ponies. One was black with an irregular white star on its chest while the other was a dark cloudy gray. The black dog was sniffing the grey dog’s tail, and the grey dog didn’t seem happy about it. He snarled at the black dog, showing long, sharp teeth. I’m afraid I don’t know much about dog training.

It’s okay, Artemis said, and she had an endearing smile. Dog training is mostly about training humans to behave the right way. I’ll teach you what you need to know. You’ll be surprised how much fun it can be.

Can I pet them? Kit said.

Donner should be okay, she said, pointing to the gray one. But Blitzen gets nervous around strangers.

Donner and Blitzen? Kit asked, reaching out towards the gray dog, which let her pet his head and scratch one of his ears. The dog sniffed her hand and gave an experimental lick.

German for ‘thunder’ and ‘lightning.’ Ms. White’s kennel named them. Suitably fierce names for the beasts that guard my land. Holzhausen tapped an envelope against his hand. You and Ms. White will have as many lessons as are required to train the beasts to heed basic commands.

After she got Artemis White’s contact information and watched the dog trainer drive her Subaru away, Kit followed her boss to the back porch. The dogs followed them, but Holzhausen chained them to a tree in the yard to stop them from getting too close to the house.

How was the wedding? Holzhausen asked.

It was lovely, Kit said. I like them both so much. They asked me to tell you hello.

How gracious of them. I would have loved to pay my respects. I’m so glad you were there to represent our house. I’m afraid, my dear Melbourne, that was your last respite for a while. The world is in grave upheaval and we’ll need to work together to keep the Guild safe. Holzhausen gave her his instructions for the work he wanted completed before the following sundown. It was an unusually thick envelope. This is a list of prospective properties for a new Guild House. I want you to inspect all of these properties. I have my own opinions about them, but I do not wish to cloud your impressions should you detect anything that will make spellwork unsuitable. I intend to ward the new building heavily.

I have some ideas about that, Kit said. I only got a few hours in the library, but I got a few spells I’d like to try out, ways to make a building’s ward more flexible.

I’m pleased to hear it. The sooner our Guild can rehouse in a new seat of power, the more secure we will be against the turmoil these Austinians have stirred up.

Kit nodded, inwardly resigning herself to a very long day trying to get viewings of the properties. She was already being asked to take over some of Jenkins’ duties. And she wasn’t going to get a good nights’ sleep, because Jenkin’s funeral was being held just after midnight, which she had to attend for propriety’s sake. Kit also made a mental note to send flowers and visit Carr and Siang, and to figure out the exact names and contact information of the humans who had died, so she could offer condolences. Holzhausen hadn’t asked her to do that, but she had a suspicion that if someone from the Guild didn’t at least show up and say they were sorry for their loss, it could cause drama later. Kit often felt like she was the human face of the Guild both literally and metaphorically.

Sir, do we know who was responsible for the explosions on the Guild House?

That is not your concern. Holzhausen said sharply, and after a pause, continued in a more conciliatory tone. Forgive me. I don’t mean to be curt. I have a panel investigating, but first we need to find a new Guild House. This is a tumultuous time and I’m not at my best.

She nodded and left. It was stressful for all of them.

Chapter Three

Asking a vampire to be your running partner was a bad idea, Kit thought. She felt as though it were likely her heart would actually burst, and yet Jessi Mitchell didn’t seem winded at all. New vampire did not mean weak vampire. She should have remembered that. Kit struggled to put one foot in front of the other as Mitchell literally ran circles around her.

Mitchell wasn’t much younger than Kit, quite pretty, and with a carefree energy that her years as an initiate hadn’t quite ruined. Her biggest asset was her physical appeal. She had a natural slimness and unusually large eyes that made Kit think of a Disney princess. Vampires tended to be more beautiful than ordinary humans, and some people thought it was because becoming a vampire somehow imbued one with physical attractiveness. But vampires were chosen, and like in every other aspect of life, beauty was its own currency.

God, I love being a vampire. I’m tons stronger. And did you know that female vampires are just as strong as male ones? I found that out the first time I arm wrestled Eastwick and beat him. Are you okay, Melbourne?

Melbourne wasn’t okay. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute and she felt sick to her stomach. In other words, she felt like she’d been running.

I need to rest, Kit said.

Jessi Mitchell waited patiently for Kit to catch her breath, but Kit couldn’t catch her breath, so she asked if they could just walk the rest of the way home.

It’s so much easier as a vampire, Mitchell said, on their way back. Being a vampire is really cool in a lot of ways. I still can’t get over my super powers, you know? Like seeing in the dark and hearing really well. But I finally came out to my family, and my mom started crying when I told her I’d never have children. And then it kind of hit me. I mean, I knew that turning into a vampire would mean I couldn’t have any, but it wasn’t until my mom started crying that it really, really hit me.

You came out to your family?

Mitchell shrugged. They figured it out. My brother found the Austinians’ video channel and showed it to my mom, and then my mom called me and asked me flat out if I was a vampire.

Oh, shit, Kit said. Does Branning know?

I don’t think she follows my mom on social media.

She posted it on social media? Kit tried to keep the creeping horror out of her voice. Always keep it quiet. Vampires don’t exist. Don’t talk on social media. And Mitchell, one of the youngest vampires in the Guild, whose sire was a close confidant of the Guild Leader himself, had admitted to her mom she was a vampire. And now her mom was posting it on social media. Mitchell, you gotta shut that shit down.

I tried, but she’s my mom.

No, seriously. People get killed for this.

It’s different now, Melbourne. Everyone knows. It’s all over the Internet. #Vampiresreal has been trending for weeks.

Kit’s heart was racing now, but for a different reason. What if Albers was right and the Guild House was destroyed to destroy all their records, to make it look as though the vampires in the city were all dead? I like you, Mitchell. I don’t want to see you get hurt.

Who would hurt me? Mitchell said. Holzhausen’s ward protects us from outsiders.

My boss is very conservative. It’s not just him either; most of the council are Quieters, from what I’ve heard. Old vampires stick to old ways.

A guy who still writes with a dip pen and seals letters with wax is not going to have bots scanning my family’s social media posts. She shrugged. The secret is already out. Even the dinosaurs are going to have to accept it sooner or later.

They were walking now. They’d already passed Mitchell’s car, but Mitchell kept walking with Kit until they got to Kit’s house, like a protective date, which Kit found comforting.

Don’t tell him. Okay? I mean, it’s not like my mom knowing is going to affect anything, what with all those celebrities coming out. But I don’t want any drama.

I won’t tell him, Kit said. Her legs were itchy and she felt heat pouring off of her chest. But I won’t lie to him if he asks me directly. I’m not good at lying, especially not to him.

Mitchell rolled her eyes. Really, you’re paranoid. I’ll be fine. Now tell me about the soiree. What’s the theme this year?

Colonial Splendor, Kit said, still breathing heavy. Can you get more tasteless than that?

Seriously? Mitchell said. You mean like, tricorn hats and War of Independence or pith helmets and gin and tonics on the verandah?

The second one. Apparently, it was Councilman Glavin’s pet idea and he wants it really bad so no one felt like overruling him. I’m trying to plan a menu around the theme. What tastes like racist oppression?

Mitchell pretended to think about it. Make sure everything is seasoned with salt gathered by hand from the Arabian Sea.

Nice. Kit chortled. Councilman Glavin gave me a list of dishes he suggests so now I have to find a caterer who is willing to cook nineteenth-century dishes that are plausibly authentic without being disgusting. It’s a fine line. How do you make mutton aspic and stewed lamprey appeal to a modern palate? I plan to sneak in a decent curry or two.

Have you done event planning before?

No. I hardly even planned my own wedding. Then again, almost everything I’ve done as Dayrunner I had to learn on the job. Like the ward that protected the city, which most people believed was Holzhausen’s doing.

You been reading the forums about the bomb? Some people think it was a hate crime. Seriously. Can you imagine? Who could hate on vampires?

Vampires have a reputation for killing people and drinking their blood. Kit leaned over with her hands on her knees, still trying to catch her breath.

Oh, people don’t do that anymore.

Do you know that in my first year as Dayrunner, I foiled three assassination attempts? Kit looked at Mitchell, reassessing her opinion of her friend. She’d assumed that