The next roomover was also a study, or maybe an office, but it was about three times the size of Trista’s. Here men and women scurried all over the place, emptying out the desk and side hutches, boxing up books. Stuff was going in and out all over the place like they were moving in a hurry.
Which was just plain weird.
The room itself looked like it was out of The Godfather or something. All dark wood furniture, gold framed paintings, wainscoting, and low lights even though there was a picture window taking up one wall. Everything about the room just felt oppressive, and like whoever the room belonged to wanted people to respect him or her, just based on the room alone.
Which strangely made me feel weary. How was it possible the rest of the house felt so warm and homey, and this place existed within it?
I didn't know much about Dreven, but it didn't seem like his style. Not the style of anyone, really, who already had power. But then, what did I really know about some jerk who liked to Turn young kids into volatile vampires? Not much, that was for sure.
One of the women started opening the wood slat blinds and letting more light in, which I appreciated. It at least made the place feel a little less stuffy and unwelcoming, even if she only met my gaze for a moment, then scurried back to packing up the room.
“What is this?” I asked as I looked around some more, my nosy nature getting the better of me.
Trista opened her mouth, then closed it, as if any explanation she had wouldn’t be right. Which was confusing. I didn’t really care what the explanation was, I was just trying to understand this place.
“Are you moving?” I tried again.
She hesitated, then said, “This used to be Quillan’s office.”
Okay, that didn’t really explain what was going on.
But it became clearer when a burly vampire walked in. “Dreven, where do you want this box of your files?”
Ah, okay. Dreven was cleaning out what was likely Quillan’s office and replacing the items with his own. Taking over the clan. Which, I guess, was to be expected if he was the second older vampire. Not that I liked the idea. Dreven just didn’t have a good leader energy about him, not like Trista did, but maybe I was judging the guy a bit harshly.
“Here,” Dreven said, pointing to a corner of the room, then, “everyone out.”
The busy bees filed out of the room, shooting us curious glances as they did so, eventually leaving us alone with Dreven and Trista. “What can we do for you?” I asked. I may not have been a cat, but I was certainly curious, especially after the whiplash I got from how he was treating Trista to how he treated me and Carol.
Carol and I perched on what I was pretty sure was an antique fainting couch. It was neat, but awfully pretentious. I hoped it was some of Quillan's furniture and not Dreven's.
“I know about Bryan,” Dreven said as he sat on the edge of his desk, his fingers wrapped around the lip of the top like claws. “I know how he was taken.”
Carol jumped to her feet. “Where is he?” she cried. “How did you know we were looking for him?”
Dreven chuckled, not unkindly. “I know most of what goes on around here.” He motioned to the spot beside me. “Please. Have a seat. We have a lot to talk about.”
Carol looked like she was debating objecting but then she sat, though her back as stiff as a board. I wanted to reach over and take her hand, reassure her that patience in a moment like this was important. But I knew deep down that I’d be losing my mind if someone took Daniel, so I kept myself still and focused on the man in front of us.
“Now, Bryan is… well, to be frank, he’s disliked. He’s a pot stirrer, and nobody likes that. Especially among our crowd. You'd think that as vampires we'd become more understanding and calmer with age but that's not necessarily the case. Some of us remain just as...enthusiastic as when we were first Turned, which is why some people don't agree with Bryan and the message he has been spreading all these years.”
Shaking her head, Carol didn’t accept his words. “No, he’s not like that.”
Dreven’s nose rose, almost so that he was sneering down at her, but his voice came out calm. “And how much do you know about that?”
Carol opened her mouth, then closed it.
I scrambled to get the answers we needed. “What kinds of things was Bryan saying that people didn’t like?”
Dreven sighed dramatically. “Bryan always claimed Quill Turned him against his will. Now we always knew Quill didn’t care whether the person he was going to turn into a vampire was on the young side. None of us liked him for it, to be clear, but claiming he’d do it against Bryan’s will…” Dreven sucked air between his teeth, and I couldn’t help but being put in mind of a man trying to justify another man committing rape. It was distasteful at the very least.
It was disgusting, if I was being honest.
“Nobody believed him,” Dreven continued. “Because though most of the other children of Quill were Turned younger than they or any of us like, they each said it had been their choice. They hadn’t been forced.”
Carol’s chest rose and fell rapidly. She didn’t like Dreven speaking anything negative about Bryan. I didn’t blame her, exactly, but how well could she really know the guy after so many years apart?
What was to say that Bryan was still the exact same man he had been when they knew each other before? Surely some of his experiences could have changed him.
