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And less exotic names like Miguel and Joshua Turnbull, the vampire from Denver, the only one to allow a smile to touch his lips. There are two women among them. A beautiful West Indian whose name, Rani, I’m told, means queen and Bria
The faces behind the names are ageless and old. They are devoid of expression as they look at me, allowing not a glimmer of thought or emotion to escape. The history of the world could be concealed behind those perfect, empty faces.
When introductions are concluded, Joshua Turnbull takes over. He rises, bows his head in my direction. His attitude here is far more deferential than when we were together in Denver.
He begins to speak, telepathically, so all can understand.
This is the Council of Thirteen. Gathered together as we have since the begi
He pauses, points to the woman Bria
He looks at me. I lost a friend, as well. Avery, in whose house we gather today. Some would say he brought about his own destruction by a careless and u
Turnbull’s eyes are on me as the circle pays final respects. I hadn’t known before this moment that Avery had been one of the thirteen. It suddenly becomes more likely that Turnbull will be the one to make the challenge. If Judith has convinced him that I am responsible for Williams’ death as well, it is more than likely.
Turnbull waits until the others raise their heads and look to him to continue.
As it is written in the Grimoire, we meet on this occasion to determine the future of the vampire community. We place this terrible burden on the shoulders of one. One who is marked as Chosen. A vampire of particular cu
A
The vampire known as Chael stands. He is slight of stature, dark-ski
Is it true that she is responsible for Avery’s death? And also that of our friend Warren Williams?
I stand, too, to defend myself.
Turnbull stops me with a message sent solely to me. You will not speak. I am appointed to defend you. You may have an opportunity later. But I will answer for you now. This is the way.
His eyes narrow, as if asking me to acquiesce to his request. He is somber and respectful and despite my natural inclination to forge ahead, I do give in. I am out of my element here. I can always revert to the impulsive, imprudent and immature side of my nature later.
I sit back down.
He addresses Chael. Avery was my good friend. I loved him as a brother. But he had a flaw. He felt it necessary to exercise complete control over everyone within his sphere of influence. He attempted to control A
I’m surprised to hear him defending me. And surprised that he knew the story. Well, most of it. He didn’t mention how Avery came back and attempted to kill me a second time. It’s possible he doesn’t know. Where did he get his information? From Warren Williams?
Warren Williams.
It’s not over yet.
Chael accepts Turnbull’s pronouncement. About Avery. And what of Warren Williams? Our newly turned sister, his widow, tells us their relationship was contentious. She tells us A
I wait, tension bunching my shoulders. Turnbull isn’t jumping to my defense this time. When at last he speaks, it is quietly and with great sorrow.
Warren Williams was a man who was able to navigate both the human and vampire worlds and be a friend to both. He defended the human community in his role as law officer—and did so for two hundred years. As a vampire, he worked tirelessly as head of the Watchers.
We may never know how he met his end. It is true, A
Chael’s dead eyes flash. How is it then that she is allowed to stand unchallenged as the Chosen?
Turnbull turns to face me. She is not. A challenge has been issued. She is called to defend her i
My thoughts whip out to him. Don’t I get the chance to defend myself against the charges first? I had nothing to do with Williams’ death. It was at the hand of another.
Is this other a vampire?
A sorcerer.
Do you have proof? Witnesses?
I shake my head. I killed the one responsible. I think of Lance, of his betrayal. There is one other who knows the truth. But I don’t know where he is. Give me time to find him.
Turnbull shakes his head. This must be decided on the day of the becoming. It is written.
Fuck it is written. I lean toward him, fists clenched. I am not guilty.
Then you will survive the challenge. That, too, is written.
I knew this was coming. I tried to prepare. But reality crushes me under the sudden weight of fear.
Because of some ancient book and two thousand years of vampire folklore, I may be dead before dawn.
CHAPTER 45
I’m facing thirteen pairs of staring eyes. Waiting for my reaction, no doubt. They heard my exchange with Turnbull.
They don’t care.
For the first time, they allow emotion to show on their faces. Some are thoughtful, some are indifferent. Some, like Chael, are excited, aroused. He is looking forward to the fight. He expects me to lose.
He made the challenge.
I face him. Why?
A smile as cold as his eyes. You have no right to be here. You are too new. One of us should have been allowed to assume the mantle. The time of the vampire is at hand. You stand in the way of what should be.
He speaks as if I’ve already lost. And what of the Grimoire? Of the Chosen One?
Superstition. We have lived under the mortal yoke too long. It’s time to assume our rightful place. We are gods among men and it is time they acknowledge it. It is time the world acknowledges it.
I think I know that speech. You borrow Hitler’s play-book?
A shadow passes over his features. You prove my point, A
I glance around to see how the others are reacting to our exchange. No outrage. No objection. No indignation. The heads of the thirteen tribes are like sheep under the spell of a wolf.
And why shouldn’t they be? Nothing that happens today will alter their lives. Not really. If I win, it’s business as usual. If Chael wins, they assume dominance in every part of the world.