"You don't make other vampires?" Mikhael asked, raising an eyebrow. "And what was Mireille then? You're perfectly willing to make vampires when it suits your purposes." His tone was light, but the information had unfortunate reprecussions. If these other vampires weren't his, which they weren't, and they weren't Francis's, which mocking aside he was pretty sure they weren't, it meant there was another true vampire around. And he couldn't stand for that. Francis's continued existence was irritant enough.
"They are not mine" he said again, this time with a bit more force behind his words. The normally muted mutterings of the voices were growing steadily more insistent both at the topic and the presence of Francis. But he needed to keep calm, keep in control to figure out exactly what was going on. He slipped a hand into his trouser pocket as discreetly as possible, running his thumb over the ruby rose hidden there. It helped a bit. "Did you ask them where they came from?"