“Really?” The squirrel fixes bright, beady eyes on him. “You want me to bring him back?”
“Fuck no!” he responds quickly.
“Good.” She gives a little nod. “Because I can’t. He’s gone. Poof!” She waves her hands, whiskers twitching as she runs a look over the rest of us. “So now that we’ve got that over with, let’s go home.”
26
Chapter 26
Marcus
Istandintheruinedchamber, surrounded by shattered glass and broken marble. The workers have washed away the blood, but I can still smell it. Vampire blood. Witch blood. The metallic tang of human security teams caught in the crossfire.
Some stains will never truly wash away.
Assembly meetings won’t be held here for months, maybe longer. The damage runs deep – smashed columns, blown-out windows, scorched walls still radiating traces of dark energy.
Empty chairs tell their own story. Elias’s seat near the front stands abandoned now, his healing gifts lost forever; Isabella’s tall chair is empty, too; her final sacrifice proved her loyalty.
And those lost along the way – Maxwell Kern, Viktor Valmont – even those loyal to Lucien feel like victims of his greed.
Too many empty seats.
My fingers trace a deep gouge in the huge central table. I remember the moment this happened – a blade missing my throat by inches, taking a chunk of wood instead. The betrayal still stings. Most of us met regularly in this huge room for centuries. Worked together. Laughed together.
Something else stings, though.
Kara.
It’s been a week since the battle. A week since the moment she pulled me from the brink of death. And I haven’t spoken to her. I can’t. I know she needs time to process what happened; her confusion had been overwhelming in those moments afterward.
She needs time.
The distance between us feels like a physical ache, but I won’t reach out. Not yet. The way she looked at me after giving her blood, the mix of fear and wonder and something else…
I close my eyes, remembering how it felt when her blood brought me back from the edge of death. The rush of power, yes, but more than that – the sudden, overwhelming sense ofher. Her thoughts, her feelings, her very essence flooding through me. Even now, I can feel her at the edges of my mind, our connection humming like a plucked string.
“We’re ready.” Selene’s voice draws me from my thoughts. She’s standing in the doorway, its huge ornate doors now blown off their hinges.
“Good.” I nod, then follow her through the narrow corridor to the secondary chamber.
Even this smaller room feels too large now, with so many seats unfilled. The surviving council members file in silently, their footsteps echoing against stone walls that have witnessed centuries of vampire politics.
“We should begin with Arabella’s rites,” Selene says, taking her place at the temporary council table. Her voice carriesthe weight of exhaustion we all feel. “Traditional or modern ceremony?”
“Traditional,” I respond firmly. “She deserves the full honors of the old ways.” The others nod in agreement. Arabella may have been rigid in her adherence to customs, but those same customs gave our kind stability for millennia.
“And what of Valerian?” Alaric’s question cuts through the somber atmosphere. “Any trace?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. He vanished after the battle. Our trackers lost him somewhere in Eastern Europe.” The coward fled the moment Lucien fell. Smart move, considering what awaited him here.
Garrett Reyes clears his throat, his features tense. “We need to address the unstable houses. Half our noble lines are without leadership. The younger vampires grow restless. Clan Lux was fortunate that I’d been groomed for Elias’s position, so the transition was smooth after he…” His throat works. “Other clans have not been so fortunate.”
He’s right. With Lucien’s supporters either dead or fled, their houses stand leaderless. Already, ambitious younger vampires circle like sharks, sensing opportunity. De Lioncourt will probably be a threat again at some point; his ambition will make him a constant problem.
“The Montague line is particularly vulnerable,” Selene notes. “Isabella’s sacrifice left them without clear succession.”
The pressure in the room builds as each empty chair seems to demand attention. Someone must step into these voids before the power vacuum tears our society apart. I can feel the others’ eyes occasionally drifting to me, their unspoken question hanging in the air.
