Page 32 of Cursed Lifeline

"King Louis' control is slipping," Alfred says, drawing my attention back to the pressing matters at hand.

"Not surprised," I sigh. "His reign of terror won't be able to last long. Even with the help of the coven."

"I've been asked to quicken your training."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare at him and ask, "By whom?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does if it means I am helping the King."

"And killing vampires, Felix's family, has nothing to do with your hesitation?"

My glare deepens.

My brother smiles.

"King Louis will fail," he says, "the coven will make sure of it. What the council is more worried about is your father's alliance with the coven, especially since his new venture is seen as a rising cult."

"The cult of reason?" I raise a brow, questioning him.

He nods, and his gaze narrows as it once again lifts and looks behind me. I don't have to steal a glance. I know he's still there. I can feel his presence just as easily as I feel the air fill my lungs to take my next breath. It's comforting knowing he's watching. Soothing. Assuring.

"Father is focused on becoming the cult's leader," my brother says. He turns, takes a few steps back toward the estate, and gestures for me to walk with him. I follow as requested, and with every step I take, I sense Felix's protective gaze on me. "He's preoccupied with bringing in new members. Making money to support the cult's vision. He's announced that anyone that questions or doubts the future of the cult, or its destiny to take over France, will be punished."

"Where do I come in?" I ask as we stroll through the gardens. "I can't openly go against our father. These may be changing times, but like you said, if I stand against him..."

Alfred looks back over our shoulders and releases a heavy sigh. He rolls his eyes as his gaze meets mine. I smile knowingly, sensing Felix's presence following us, which only irritates my brother further.

"You may be right about one thing," he groans in annoyance. "Felix won't let anyone harm you."

My grin widens as we walk up the steps to the house. Alfred opens the front door and pauses to let me pass. As I do, he says, "But that doesn't mean he won't hurt you, Esme."

With a roll of my eyes, I walk into the entryway and remove my cape. The warmth of the house is a pleasant change from the cold October morning. Alfred extends his hand, and I give him my cloak with a soft smile before hugging my copy of Hamlet close to my chest.

"The cult is composed of politicians, publishers, journalists," I say. "Not the noblemen and clergy in the past. They don't stand a chance at winning."

"With the right amount of propaganda, anyone can convince the masses the lies they are weaving are true," Alfred raises a brow at me as he hands my cape, along with his hat and gloves to the butler. "Above all people, you should know that."

I choose to ignore his comment as we walk into the study. Silas and Caelum, Alfred's alliances on the Magister Council, sit waiting for us.

The three men don't share blood, but I've quickly learned they are brothers just the same, having grown up in the council and dubbed as trainers of my kind and any potential slayers that may arise in the future if I am unsuccessful at my task. I once asked Alfred if I had to die for a potential to be called. He assured me I didn't. Potentials could, however, feel the pull on their life at any time, but they wouldn't be considered full slayers until they are called by the council in the event the current slayer perishes.

Silas and Caelum rise, kiss me tenderly on the cheek, then take their seats across from me as I position myself closest to the fire that's burning vigorously in the hearth and set my book on my lap.

As of recently, there are no potentials. Hence why Silas and Caelum are keeping Alfred and I company and not off on their own training another girl who, if she's lucky, won't fall in love with the man she's supposed to kill.

Potentials and propaganda aside, I look at my brother and refuse to believe there aren't still good-hearted people in the world that would stand up to the evil that threatens to be unleashed at the hand of my father's corrupt religion.

"The cult's next festival is rumored to take place soon," I say. "And no one, not even those in the lower class who despise King Louis, will stand for the cult's immoral, atheist celebrations when they see what's in store for them if my father gets the chance to rule France."

"Not all of us are as devoted Christians as you, Esme," Alfred grins as he strides to the table across the room and pours himself a drink. He offers one to Silas and Caelum. Silas shakes his head no, while Caelum nods yes eagerly.

"I, for one, have never judged anyone for committing sins that were considered immoral," Caelum grins as he takes his drink from Alfred.

I shake my head and sigh. That I don't doubt as Caelum still looks slightly inebriated from wherever his promiscuous travels led him last night. In fact, it's a surprise he found his way home this morning at all.

Felix's laugh rings through my mind as he reads my thoughts, and his presence calls to me from just beyond the window across the room. Glancing to my right, I notice his shadow under the shade of a grand oak in the front yard and smile.

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