Gwala smiled indulgently, choosing to read into my words, or at least pretend like he had. “Well, you’re more than welcome. It’s the least we could do after you honored us by coming all this way.”
My teeth gritted in order to keep my tongue captured. I nodded.
One of his long sleeves fell into a pool of blood that had spilled from the decanter as Gwala leaned forward, supporting his weight on his elbows. “I must say, your sister is truly a delight. Such a fragile beauty. Stunning, really, like an emerald peacock butterfly—a creature that shouldn’t be part of this world and could so easily be taken from it.”
I forced the words back down my throat. He might not have brought me here to poison me, but I had no reason to believe he wouldn’t punish Cynthia for something I said or did that offended him.
His look of cordiality never wavered. “I must confess, I have watched her for hours. She has not spoken—it may be a family trait, as you seem to be of few words as well. I suspect she has the voice of a songbird. Only recently, I found a creature with which to share my throne. Had I not, I would not be able to resist the desire to transform your little witch into my vampire queen.”
My eyes had dropped to my plate so he wouldn’t see my fury, but at his words, I jerked up, my eyes flashing to his, my fork clattering noisily to the table.
The vampire let out a laugh. “Oh, don’t worry. Your sister is still a witch. I am quite taken with my soon-to-be queen and have no desire for her replacement. I must admit, in all my years, I have never sired a witch. Do you know if a witch, once changed, retains her power?”
I only stared at him, both my hands clamped on the edge of the table, my heart hammering in my throat.
“I’ve heard of such being attempted, but in those cases, the fledgling died before the transition was completed.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer conspiratorially. “In all honestly, I’ve never been tempted. No offense intended, but I’ve never had the desire to have any witch or warlock I’ve encountered spend eternity with me.”
When I still gave no response, Schwint piped up, his voice finally sounding like the man I knew and loved. “I have heard similar stories of fairy-kind that had been bitten by… that had started the transition.”
Gwala’s gaze flicked to Schwint, but he didn’t offer a comment. “As I was saying, I am not surprised at your devotion to your sister. She is quite the prize and, from what I can feel, is quite full of power.” He took a long draft of his drink and emptied the contents of the goblet. He didn’t bother wiping the small trail of blood that trickled down the left side of his lips. “As powerful as she is, from what Omar tells me, her power is not equal to your own.”
I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. “I am just a normal warlock. There is nothing special about my lineage. Mine or Cynthia’s.” I was being honest. We were more powerful than many families, as our bloodline stemmed from multiple demon patronages, giving us a wide array of powers, but I knew many families that could boast the same claim.
Gwala’s smile gleamed like a child opening his biggest gift on Christmas morning—a smile that showed the full length of his impressive fangs. “Yes, Omar has mentioned several times that you are not aware of your own power and that you are vastly underpracticed. I believe his exact comparison was that of a teenage boy still wearing diapers because he enjoyed wallowing in his own filth.” His eyes twinkled at the insult. “Please don’t take offense. In the short time in your presence, I can see that such a comparison is unjust. I’m afraid Omar may not have the same love for you that I do. In fact, I dare say he may be just the tiniest bit jealous.”
At his words, a few pieces of the puzzle started to click together, but I wasn’t sure. However, the insult seemed familiar. “Who is Omar, if I may ask?”
A genuine look of confusion crossed his face. “He did truly never introduce himself? After all that time in communication?”
Schwint sucked in a breath beside me, coming to the same conclusion I had reached.
“I must say, though I am not surprised due to his covetousness as of late, I expected better of him.”
“Omar is the voice that had been speaking to me since I came to the Square that day, isn’t he? The warlock that told me I’d been called by the Vampire Cathedral.” How that voice had tormented me, causing so much mental and physical pain I thought I was going to lose my mind. It was disconcerting to have a name for my oppressor.
Gwala nodded indulgently. “Yes, I’m afraid he’s not handling being replaced with the most grace. I’m sorry for any rudeness he may have imparted. There wasn’t really any other choice. Even as a king and as old as I am, there are powers we vampires were not given. Omar was able to speak to you across the miles, whereas I could not.”
I wanted to point out a phone call might have worked as well, but again Cynthia’s confined image held me back. “What do you mean being replaced? Why would he hate me for being replaced?”
Schwint’s hand found my leg once more under the table. I turned toward him, but he was staring at Gwala. “You want Finn to be the Vampire Cathedral’s warlock. Is that it?”
For the first time, Gwala gave a genuine smile to Schwint. “Indeed. So you are knowledgeable of the role of a witch within the Cathedral? I was not aware that the fairy courts could have such luxury.”
Schwint’s shoulders slumped, and he shook his head, as if the doctor had just confirmed a terminal cancer. “They don’t, and no, I’m not clear on the role of witches and warlocks in the Vampire Cathedral. I’ve only heard such things existed, although I’d never given it much credence.”
“You show your wisdom, Schwint. You did say your name was Schwint, did you not?”
Schwint nodded.
“Very well. Indeed, most things fairies whisper are nothing more than gossip or derisive slander. However, in this case, it seems that the rarity of fairy factuality is shown to exist.”
I looked back and forth between my boyfriend and the creature of my nightmares. They might as well have been speaking a different language.
“Well, I’ve never heard of a warlock being part of the Vampire Cathedral. You want to replace Omar with me? To do what? Being the Vampire Cathedral’s warlock is some type of job?”
Gwala returned his gaze to Schwint. “I can see what you find appealing. His innocence is rather captivating.” He looked back at me. “Yes, young warlock, you are going to replace Omar, which, as I said, is why I’m afraid he has been less than welcoming to you. It is quite a coveted position. There is no higher honor that could be given to a witch or warlock.” He spread out his arms, twisting to encompass the room. “No end to riches or pleasures. The honor of being known as the most powerful of your race. An extended lifespan. Not as long as a vampire’s of course, but a little blood will extend you for quite a long time in comparison to your normal brevity.” Another sardonic laugh. “That may be part of the reason Omar is resentful. While the warlock before him was under our care for the better part of two centuries, Omar has been here only since the mid-twentieth century. I’m sure he believed such a powerful witch would not be found for a few more lifetimes.”
I gaped at him, my brain racing, jumping from thought to thought, not lingering enough to really take any form or make sense of what he was saying. “I don’t want… I can’t… I’m not that powerful. I’m definitely not more powerful than Omar.” I faltered, desperate to prove my point. “If I’m understanding correctly, Omar lives here in the Vampire Cathedral?”
