Page 12 of Cursed Lifeline

Lord Laurent suddenly grows courageous and takes a heated step forward.

"You asked for help from the coven?" he shouts over his shoulder at Lord Martin. The growing rumble of my brother's growls behind me warns him to step down, but the Lord and his men take another challenging step in our direction and attempt to act braver than they should. Holding up my hand in warning, they stop their approach just as Lord Laurent shouts, "The King would never..."

"It's already agreed upon," Lord Martin cuts him off. My smile grows as Lord Laurent's eyes widen. "The Immortalis Coven was King Louis' idea. Either way, if the peasants win, or the coven takes over France and all fails, the King pays with his life."

That may be true, but Lord Martin and I know there is another reason why he's called us here tonight, including secrets held within the contents of a letter that's plagued him for a decade or more. Rumor has it, he houses a watcher from the Magister Council under his roof. Which proves detrimental to both of us seeing the council is an assembly of men who have sworn their lives to raise an army with the hope to defeat the terrors that haunt innocent mortals at night.

Word is they've recently chosen their next assassin they're intent on training against us.

For Lord Martin's plan to succeed, he needs to act now to bring about the change he desires for his country and to also ensure we will be around to help him as he unleashes a bloody massacre.

Though the coven is not fearful that we will meet our demise, we took the deal with the double-crossing Lord in exchange for help in building an army of our own.

"What about reason?" Lord Laurent shouts, glancing back at Lord Martin over his shoulder. "What about what we've previously discussed? Our agreed-upon arrangement was not to enable France to continue making the same mistakes."

"And their help will ensure that," Lord Martin scowls as my brothers and I remain silent and let the Lords work their issues out amongst themselves. "Like I said, the King pays with his life either way. Enlisting the coven's help ensures the monarchy falls, the catholic church crumbles, and reason returns to France."

"And what's to stop them from coming after us next," Lord Laurent insists. Annoyed, I set my glass of wine down on a nearby table and step further into the room. "What's to stop their kind from taking over? From coming for the nobles, our land, our money? The King and the church may fall, but what about the rest of us?"

Unbuttoning and pushing back the waist of my black wool coat, I slip my hands in my pockets and lower my head as I step forward and say, "There's a place for you in the coven if things don't go as planned."

Cocking my head to the side, I slightly raise my hooded gaze and give the fearful men a wicked grin. My sharp canines glisten in the flicker of candlelight as I hiss, "If you'd like, we can take your life now before you lose everything you hold so dear in your mortal one, Lord Laurent." His blubbery face shakes as terror overtakes him, and I continue to step closer. "After all, if you're changed while you still hold the position of nobleman, you'll be considered high-rank. You won't have to start out as an ordinary servant in the coven."

He turns and attempts to flee, but I mist to his side in fractions of the second it took for him to find the courage to run. His men flee to opposite corners of the room, to the shadows our kind are used to hiding in as my brothers step closer and flank my sides. Grabbing Lord Laurent by the arm, he starts to fight me, but his tired, decrepit body is no match for my immortal one. My brothers hover closer as I glance up and see Lord Martin looking rather bored sitting behind his desk. He knows as well as I do that this isn't a negotiation.

Pulling my free hand from my pocket, I raise the end of my pointer finger, which is sheathed in a metal point that acts as a knife, and run it along the Lord's neck. I prick his skin only slightly, but his aged flesh breaks too easily. Soon blood trickles down his neck, and pools in the dip of his clavicle.

Behind me, Talon releases a low, feral growl. I grin when the Lord's men scream in horror and begin to shuffle anxiously backward to hide nearby in shadows that'll never save them.

I dig the hook on my finger into the old man's skin, eliciting a panicked cry of pain.

"Only problem is, our kind would have little use of someone as old as you, Lord Laurent," I hiss.

With my hook still firmly placed in the flesh of his collarbone, he falls to his knees, and I tower over him.

"What's more, a young woman has no use for an old man like you."

His eyes widen as blood continues to gush out of his neck.

Leaning down to his level, I harshly grab the lapel of his dinner jacket and pull him close. Our eyes lock as I seethe, "Come after Esmerelda, and you're mine. If you touch a hair on her head, I'll take your life, and won't hesitate long enough to hear you cry out to God for mercy. Understand?"

Considering the wetness coating the front of Lord Laurent's pants, I'd say my message was received. He shakes his head yes, and I release him with a sharp push. His blood rushes out of the wound on his neck just as Talon attempts to bolt past us toward the Lord. I hold up a hand to stop him. Surprisingly, he manages to control his hunger and comes to an abrupt halt a foot away from where the nobleman is bleeding all over the carpet.

"King Louis would like your death dealers to start tonight," Lord Martin addresses me as I toss the Lord at my feet a handkerchief.

He holds it up to his wound and has the nerve to glare up at me from his delicate position on the floor as if he didn't learn his lesson. If so, it'll be very unfortunate for him when he realizes I don't have the patience to teach ignorant mortals twice.

I hold my breath so the smell of Lord Laurent's blood doesn't send me over the edge, just like it threatens to push Talon to a point of no return, and manage to ask, "Any rules?"

Lord Martin calmly states, "Not from the King. From me, only one."

A chilling silence falls on the room. It's a type of stillness before a storm that, if I were mortal, would send shivers down my spine. Instead, I turn my attention back to the head of the house, raise a questioning brow, and wait for him to continue.

He stands and grimly states, "Help us take back France. No matter the cost."

"And if king and country pay with their life?"

Lord Martin extends his hand towards me. "Then I'm counting on you to make sure the King and I see you in our next."

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