"He took away our choice, our youth, everything," Trista said, raising her own glass.
"Let him rot in hell," Dreven muttered, then drank his wine.
The others murmured, "Amen,” and most of the table drank.
"Wow," I said, "What he did was really that bad?"
Dreven's mouth curled into a frown. "It wasn't just what he did, but what his young vampires did. What they couldn't help but do."
"But we have to live with that," Trista whispered, her high pitched voice oddly solemn.
I turned to Vance. "Live with what?"
Vance shot me a warning glance, but Trista answered me. “A lot of young vampires hurt or kill humans when they can’t control themselves. Then when they get older, they remember what they do, and it can be very upsetting.”
“But it makes us what we are,” Jeffrey told her, his eyes darkening.
“We didn’t need to go through that to become strong vampires,” she argued, her mouth pulling into a thin line.
“And being young-looking and beautiful has its advantages,” Lysa said, smirking. “You enjoyed those benefits just as much as the rest of us.”
Trista glared. “I was eighteen. I didn’t know what I was signing on for.”
Lysa’s smile widened. “At eighteen, humans can go to war. They can be charged as adults. You made a decision as an adult.”
“Eighteen isn’t old enough to–”
“We are not having this argument again,” Dreven growled, not quite slamming his hands on the table, but definitely placing them pretty hard.
“She’s just saying what we’re all thinking. Trista acts so high and mighty about being Turned young, but she also doesn’t regret being a vampire now,” his voice was almost a sneer.
“I just think people should be old enough to be completely sure they’re okay with what they’re signing up for, and not just be Turned because Quillan wanted a piece of–”
“Silence!” Dreven said, his voice on the edge of a shout. “You will not go around repeating the garbage that Bryan is spewing. We are a coven. A family. That comes above all else.”
Trista looked like she wanted to argue but didn’t.
Lysa had a cruel smile as she turned to face me. “If you’re looking for Quillan’s killer, Karma, you should be looking at Trista and Bryan. They’re the only senior members of our coven who disagreed with how Quillan ran things. The rest of us would have been happy to keep things running as they were.”
“You know there’s more to everything than–”
Again, Dreven cut her off. “This is a dinner with Clan Scarlet. Let us remember our manners.”
“You’re not in charge of us,” Trista said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Not yet,” Dreven said, and his tone said more than his words. He fully intended to be the new leader soon. So as much as these people seemed to want me to point the finger at Trista and Bryan, they weren’t exactly giving me reasons to remove them from my list of suspects.
Jeffrey looked back at me, his smile unkind. “But then, Karma is just here for fun, right? Not about any of this.”
I sat up a little straighter. “Right, just enjoying a, uh, nice date.” No one looked like they believed me, so I pressed on. “Speaking of Bryan…”
He shot me a warning glance and shook his head, then raised his own glass. "To Clan Dusk, and their bright new future."
"Here! Here!" Everyone said, drinking again.
I joined in the toast, reluctantly. It sounded like they all hated the dead guy. Even Vance. But after that, I didn't learn much else. By the time the dinner was over the only thing I was sure of was that the plot was thick and murky, and everyone felt guilty, except for Trista. She was still blocking me with a somewhat frightening ease, which I guess meant she was just as likely to be the guilty party.
Yes, I'd learned more, but not enough. Not yet. Whoever killed Quillan, their identity was still a mystery to me. And Carol was still, possibly, in danger.
