Joss raises his eyebrow over the rim of his glass. "You've been away for quite some time," he explains patiently, as if to a small child. Or a simpleton. "The Night Council is for our mutual benefit, or so they claim. We even have something vaguely resembling a democracy." His mouth twists. "Millicent's position was never up for a vote, of course. She never did share power well. But the presidency of the Night Council was. I recently had the dubious honor of casting a ballot with her name on it." He can't even remember who else was on it. Something about a bear?

The establishment may be a joke, but it's their reality. The witches far outnumber them. Simple arithmetic is not on their side, and the witches do not need an excuse to start vampire hunting.

"My dear Mr. Borgia, if you don't want to be undone you'll do well to leave this particular mess alone. When Harris does flame out, he will do so spectacularly. Take care that you are not burnt."