Page 17 of Blood Taken (Blood Mafia 2)
Our only hope now is Lacey. We'll have to be patient and let the witch work. We'll find Demi. We have to.
Chapter Five
Demi
The Guild's office is in building number two on the second floor. Maria points out a few offices and tells me who they belong to. Since I have yet to meet these people, I don't bother remembering what she says. It's pointless filler conversation anyway.
Maria's trying to make the awkward silence go away; my lack of response to her comments makes things stranger than if she had just been quiet and taken me to the Guild.
At the end of the hall are two large wooden doors, a circle with a scripted H in the middle is carved into the center of each one.
Maria stops a few feet away from them, turning to face me. "Everything will be okay. Answer the questions honestly and you'll be fine."
The skin between my brow pinches when I pull them together, what the hell am I about to walk into?
I don't have time to ask because someone opens a door.
Nicole smiles at me. "Hey, Demi. Did you sleep okay?"
"Well enough, thanks."
She glances at my mother, her smile falling ever so slightly before gesturing us inside. "The Guild is ready to meet you now."
Wonderful.
I keep my sarcastic comment to myself and let Maria go in first, taking my sweet time entering the room. One wall is lined with windows, facing toward the forest and letting in enough natural light no manufactured one is needed.
In the middle of the room is an elegant table, it’s long enough for twelve chairs to line either side and two at the head. Twelve of the fourteen seats are filled. Maria yanks the thirteenth back and sits down next to Nicole near the head of the table closest to me.
The only one that is left is at the end of the table opposite a man who looks about forty. He sits with his fingers steepled, observing me as I take in the sparsely decorated meeting room.
There's a plant in the corner and an abstract painting on the wall opposite the windows.
"Please come in, sit,” the man says.
Everyone who was quietly talking turns to look at me as I head toward the chair.
This isn't weird at all. I feel right at home.
Not.
Is my boob hanging out or something? What are they staring at?
I sit, cross my arms over my chest, and look at the man I assume is in charge.
One side of his mouth lifts in amusement. "I see you've picked up some of your mother's traits despite not being raised by her."
Maria stiffens next to me, shooting a withering glare in his direction.
"I'm told you have questions," I say, uncrossing my arms and placing my hands on the sides of the seat.
"Why don't you start by telling us a little about yourself?"
Really? An ice breaker?
Taking the time to look over each person at the table, I quickly catalog their faces. The youngest person is a guy my age. He's wearing what I call the constipation look, like he's halfway through a really difficult shit.
"Are you okay?" I ask him, drawing some of the attention from myself to him.
