Nicolai froze, his grip on the glass tightening. “You’re mistaken. Xander has never turned anyone, not ever.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He finished the rest of his drink and brought his gaze back to Mitchell. He knew her. Mitchell was the owner of this club—he’d know everyone, of course, but it was more than that. They had seen him getting cozy with the strange girl earlier in the night, and if Nicolai were a betting man, a habit he had begrudgingly given up a few decades ago after spending too much of his and Xander’s money, he’d wager that she was the same girl Mitchell had told him about earlier. A friend who he often crossed lines with, one who partied with him and only him.
Sliding his empty glass to the bartender, he sauntered over to Mitchell who was saying goodbye to the last remaining customers.
“Who is she?” Nicolai asked.
Mitchell carried on talking to the people that were getting their coats, holding a finger to Nicolai to tell him not to interrupt. Nicolai sighed and waited for him to finish, his foot tapping against the floor impatiently.
Finally, Mitchell turned to him. “What can I do for you, Lord Nicolai?”
“Don’t start, I haven’t been called that in years. Just because my dickhead brother enjoyed making his descendents bow down to him doesn’t mean I want anyone to do the same to me.”
As Mitchell stiffened at the mention of his creator, Nicolai felt a pang of guilt at his reaction. Mitchell was one of the many who had been turned by William without consent, and for years had been made to treat him as a godly figure to obey and fear.He, along with several other descendants, had been taken in by Nicoali and Kadeem shortly after William’s demise. Mitchell had seemed like a natural leader of the group they’d found, but the majority of William’s descendants had disappeared, spread across the globe as they discovered their new freedom without their master. But it was clear Mitchell had feared William greatly and, judging from his response, perhaps still did.
The night Mitchell’s group had been found by Nicoali and Kadeem, they’d been terrified, assuming every Pureblood Lamia was the same. Though he knew he ought to have mourned his brother, Nicolai thought it was a blessing when William was killed. If Xander didn’t force himself to be such a good person, he knew he’d agree with him, too.
Mitchell had stayed with Nicolai for longer than the others, wanting to ensure he had learnt to curb his bloodlust and gain control of his Aeris powers. He’d also been keen to meet the Lupus Court, wanting to make amends for the part he had played in the capture and imprisonment of Lupi for William’s organised fights. He was a good man, one that Nicolai respected and got on with, but the two had lost touch after a while, until Nicolai had heard about Mitchell’s new club in Manchester.
He and Niamh had travelled up north to meet with Rafael, the mortal communicator between countries in the World Court and anticipated to be the next Prime Minister. It just so happened that their meeting was only a short walk to Mitchell’s club, and so Nicolai had of course called ahead to make a reservation. He had hoped for a nice evening, catching up with an old friend and enjoying the freedom that only blood parties could provide, but then that girl appeared.
“Who is the girl?” Nicolai pressed. “The Lamia Incantrix, the Luciferus, who is she?”
Mitchell shrugged as he fiddled with the sleeves of his white shirt. “I don’t know.”
“That’s bullshit, you know everyone that comes here. You know her, you know what she is, and I bet you knew she was Xander’s, too.”
Mitchell stared at him, his blue eyes full of cold fury. The Aeris markings on his pale arms flared with power. “She is not his. She does not belong to her creator. Just like I never belonged to William fucking Terrell.”
“Ah, so you do know her. What’s her name?”
Mitchell walked away, heading to the bar to help his staff clean up. Nicolai knew Mitchell was a loyal friend, and he would never betray anyone’s trust, not intentionally. But he couldn’t leave, not until he had more to go on. They needed a Luciferus, and if Mitchell was hiding one, he’d find her.
“What’s her name?” Nicolai asked again, a little more forcefully.
“I’m not telling you shit, Nic. The night’s over. So, respectfully, get the fuck out my club.”
“She told me her name was Addie,” Niamh said. “It might have been a fake name but I don’t think it was.”
Mitchell tensed, his eyes going wide. “I’d like both of you to leave,” he said, his voice shaking as he turned away from them and began furiously scrubbing the bar countertop. “Get out, now.”
Nicolai nodded, before waving his hands in intricate patterns and opening a portal gate to the World Court headquarters in London, tearing a hole through space itself. He apologised to Mitchell and thanked him for his hospitality, but he offered no reply, just waved him away.
Taking Niamh’s hand, Nicolai pulled her through the gate with him. The dark red decor and hazy atmosphere of the club gave way to the walls of the old townhouse, the smell of liquor and blood replaced by the familiar scent of old books and coffee. The sensation of portalling was akin to falling endlessly, yet it lastedonly a breath. It was something Nicolai had obviously grown used to, but it seemed Niamh still had not as she pressed a hand to her chest with a frown on her face.
“I promise it gets easier,” Nicolai said. “The feeling stays the same, as if you’ve moved too fast, but you get used to it.”
“So you keep saying.”
With a nod, he walked through the halls of the old townhouse, the portal snapping shut behind him with a smack of energy. Niamh followed him, their footsteps echoing off the polished wood floor filling the tense silence.
“You’re sure she said her name was Addie?” Nicolai asked.
“Yes. She didn’t want to tell me at first, but I don’t think she was lying. Why? Does the name mean anything?”
They rounded the corner to the meeting room where Edward sat with his feet on the table reading a newspaper, another headline about the Liberators on the front page. He raised his head as Nicolai and Niamh walked in, his face splitting into a grin, and threw the newspaper to the side. He rose from his chair, clearly ready to tease them, but stopped when he saw Nicolai’s stern expression.
