Page 30 of Nearly Dead

My eyes turn back to Costin, his face unreadable as he finally looks at me.He’s dressed in formal attire befitting his station as Master Vampire, a deep black suit with subtle crimson embroidery at the cuffs and collar.I feel the sire bond pulling between us, a silent acknowledgment of our connection.

A chill sweeps through me.I didn’t see Elizabeth enter, but she’s suddenly there.She’s in a gown of blood-red velvet that clings like a second skin, the plunging neckline more tease than fashion.The color makes her luminous pale skin look like she was sculpted from moonlight.Her hair is twisted into some obscenely perfect updo with rubies (at least I think they’re rubies) woven through the strands.She looks like a queen from some ancient, bloodthirsty empire, the kind that didn’t bother with trials before executions.

She takes a seat beside her brother as if it’s the most natural thing for her to do.Costin stiffens at her presence but doesn’t move.I wait for him to throw her across the room, to do something, anything to show he disapproves of her being here.He doesn’t.Elizabeth smiles a predator’s greeting, and I realize whatever game she’s playing has already started.

I feel the sire bond with Costin.I don’t think I could really hurt him even if I wanted to.Is that part of what keeps him from attacking his sister?Simple vampire biology?Some ancient bloodline magic rule to keep children from devouring their vampire parents?

The silence in the chamber feels deliberate, a pressure against my ears as all eyes focus on our unusual procession.All eyes but my father’s.He looks at the floor in front of me.He’s ashamed of me.I don’t fit the narrative he’s made for himself.Having a human bastard was quaint.Forgivable.Having a hybrid monster with werewolf blood… not so much.

I never asked for any of this.

I feel the rage stirring inside me.Astrid leans closer.I feel the tension in her, though her face betrays nothing.

The milky-eyed wizard by my father stands.

“I, Decimus, will speak for this council,” he intones, his voice surprisingly strong despite his fragile appearance.“We recognize the Devine family and,” he pauses, his blind eyes somehow finding me, “the hybrid.”

The word ripples through the chamber, causing a stir among the supernatural elites.I hear whispers in languages I don’t recognize.I see pointed fingers and raised eyebrows.

Anthony appears at my other side.His hand hovers near his ceremonial dagger.It’s a gesture that would look casual to most, but I recognize it as preparing for trouble.

His eyes meet mine, and I give a slight shake of my head.I don’t want him fighting for me.

“Anthony, go take your place by your father,” Astrid says.

He frowns and starts to protest.

“Go,” Astrid insists under her breath.“Now.”

Anthony moves toward the seats, dragging his feet.

“We did not, however…” Decimus’ gaze shifts to Sully, who stands his ground without flinching.“…extend an invitation to the wolf pack.”

“With respect, Elder Decimus,” Sully responds, his tone sounding anything but respectful, “the hybrid carries Thane’s blood.Any judgment of her is a judgment of werewolf interests.Since there are no wolves present on your council, we demand our historic right to be here.”

“Is that so?”Madam Britannia demands, her accent thick with an Old World cadence.“And do you speak for all werewolves now, young one?The Alpha is dead.”

I find it amusing anyone would call Sully young when he’s clearly been around a long time.

“I speak for those who matter,” Sully replies.“Until the Alpha is chosen, I command the wolves.”

“Enough,” Decimus orders.

Before Decimus can continue, the marble floor trembles and opens.A wizard ascends from below onto the central dais.Zephronis.

His robes move like oil poured over starlight.The shifting constellations sewn into the fabric undulate as though alive.The gold inlay beneath his feet pulses once in acknowledgment, as if serving as an introduction of his importance.

I feel a small glimmer of hope to see him.

His long, silver beard nearly brushes the floor and is exactly as I remember it.His skin is pale but not frail, and his eyes glow with a faint violet.It’s the same haunting hue that once bore into my soul before he called off my forced engagement to Chester Freemont with a single word:impossible.

That day, Zephronis had overridden every power in the room, including Uncle Mortimer.He literally saved my life.I could never have survived Chester.

I found out later that the wizard is older than most of the council’s bloodlines.A true neutral.A high arbiter of balance.He doesn’t play politics.He doesn’t take sides.

Except he did.

He tookmy side.

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