Page 29 of Nearly Dead

She threads her arm through mine and pulls me along with her to the nearby doors.The short corridor we walk through is a study in ancient power.I feel as if modern time is fading into the carved stone walls inlaid with protective spells that make the air shimmer.My likeness shines up from the polished obsidian floors, which reflect our procession like a dark mirror.

My heart is beating fast and hard.Where is Costin?I wish he were with me.

I see the glimmer of ancient symbols in the stone as we pass.Contemporary notions don’t belong in this historical world.They won’t care about my rights as a person, or my feelings.None of this is about what I want.There is no fairness.The council is about power and control.They don’t abide by human laws.

“Through the looking glass,” I mutter, wishing the Tamara walking with me in the floor would offer to switch places.

“Shh,” Astrid scolds, her grip tightening on me.

The air is still down here.Sconces hold eternal flames to light our way, the fire neither flickering nor producing smoke.I don’t smell the faint trace of gas that I did in the other rooms.We pass alcoves with artifacts of supernatural significance.Some I’ve seen in books, others I just guess at.There are crystallized dragon tears in a bowl, the preserved hand of a creature still clutching a wand under a dome of glass, and a goblet that emits a smell I don’t want to investigate.

My heart beats faster.I hear it in my ears, making everything else sound far away.

I don’t want to do this.

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want to be this… thisthing.This monster.

This corridor looked short when we started, but it keeps going, as if we’re not crossing any gap and the doors stay the same distance away.Sully falls into step beside me.I feel his energy, wild and barely restrained, calling to something similar inside me.Astrid tenses and keeps hold.I glance back to see the other werewolves forming a loose perimeter behind us, as if they’re both escorting and containing me.

“You feel it, don’t you?”Sully murmurs.The tiny hairs along my neck stand on end and I shiver.“The pull of the pack.The call of your true nature.”

“I don’t have a true nature,” I reply.“I’m just me.I don’t want to be your Alpha.I don’t want any of this.”

How many times do I need to say it?

“That’s where you’re wrong.”His hand brushes mine, the brief contact sending a jolt through me that has nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with awareness.“You’re stronger than you know.And after today, you’ll have to decide which side you’re on.”

“We’re here,” Astrid says.

I glance forward to see the massive doors to the council chamber rising above us.We finally made it to the end of the magical corridor.The doors loom fifteen feet tall, carved from oak and inlaid with iron and silver.My skin itches in warning not to touch the metal.

I catch Costin’s scent on the other side of the door.He’s not alone, but he’s all I can focus on.I desperately want to be with him, but I fear my feelings are a manifestation of the sire bond.

“What’s in there?”I can’t help but ask.I don’t want to go in.

“Welcome to Amphitheater Subterraneum,” Sully mutters.

“Like gladiators?”I look at Anthony for help.

Sully chuckles.I wasn’t making a joke.

I don’t want to fight.Well, fine, I do, but I’m trying hard to suppress that rage.

Anthony places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.“It’s just a meeting place.Neutral territory.”

Astrid lifts her hand and pushes magic at the doors.They swing open silently despite their massive size, revealing the council chamber beyond.She leads me forward, forcing me to step in front of Sully to cut him off.

The room is circular and vast, with a domed ceiling painted to resemble the night sky, complete with luminescent stars that twinkle.Tiered seating surrounds a central floor of white marble inlaid with a complex pattern of gold supernatural symbols.

Around the underground amphitheater, sitting above where I stand in what I can now only think of as a gladiator pit, are the most powerful supernatural beings from North America and the Old Country.Their collective power makes the air feel thick and charged.Or maybe it’s my imagination.Either way, I find it hard to breathe.I slowly turn, looking my judges over.

I recognize some of the North American contingent.Of course, Costin is there, master vampire and my sire.He’s not meeting my gaze.Madam Britannia, the witch whose botanical shop in Maine disguises her role as head of the Eastern Seaboard covens’ alliance.Elder Birch, the gruff wizard representative from the Appalachian mountains who’s been to our estate for my father’s hunting parties.He carries potion bottles he calls moonshine, but I don’t think they’re filled with liquor by the way he always smirks when he says it.Conrad once told me Birch is a prison warden, locking away the worst supernatural criminals.I have no idea if that’s true.

The Old Country representatives are, largely, unfamiliar to me.I might have glimpsed their faces at formal gatherings, but I was never introduced to them.A pale woman with hair so blonde it appears white, her eyes an unnatural violet, watches me with clinical interest from what I can only assume is the vampire section, since she’s close to Costin.She parts her lips to show fangs.Beside the vampires sits a man whose features seem to shift subtly, as if he can’t decide which face to wear.I have no clue what he is.

My father sits with Birch and the other magics.He’s dressed in a formal charcoal suit designed to project authority and command respect.Mortimer leaves our group to join him.Next to them is an elderly man in elaborate robes covered in moving constellations.His beard almost reaches the floor, and his skin is like parchment stretched over bone, with eyes milky with age yet somehow piercing.

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