I fail to stifle my snort this time. Like they don’t knowexactlywhat happened. Anger is a lit fuse that travels through my veins, lighting me up from the inside.
“You realize you were warned about it, right?” I ask, the words coming out unbidden. “A member of your council was told that a group of vampires had killed and drained over fifty people in order to gain a buttload of power and were planning something to try to destabilize the city’s leadership. No one listened and then last night was the result.”
Roscoe could havedied. It was only because Rook, Z, and Fabian got to him in time that he didn’t. And he’s one of the lucky ones. There are going to be people walking around today without a mother, with a hole in their life where their brother or their child once lived, all because the Archarcans are megalomaniacs and the Bad Vamps have had enough and don’t give a shit about collateral damage as they fight their way to the top.
What stings is that things don’t need to be this way at all. If the Archarcans just gave an inch and let anyone else have a say over how things are run in this city, it might not have got to this point.
I’m aware as I’m saying the words that thismight notbe the best way to go. I’m actively antagonizing the woman that threw me into a cell for the crime of missing my nanna and accidentally using magic that I didn’t understand. I should probably be all meek and helpful and try to fade into the ugly wallpaper and then maybe they’ll let me out of here.
Chances are, though, I could say anything, and the end result will still be the same. To the Archarcans, I demonstrated dangerous levels of power last night and that’ll mean only onething: I’m too dangerous for them to let me live freely. Plus, I’m so fucking angry. The rage that’s been simmering inside me for years now finally has an outlet, and I can’t waste this opportunity to let them hear the truth. I doubt they’ll listen, but that’s not something I can control.
“They’re currently holed up in a mansion that's about three doors down from your house, Councillor Clements. Did you know that?”
Fuck. I can’t seem to stop running my mouth off. Anna is staring at me like I’m an idiot and my mothe—Councillor Clements has her lips pursed and is frowning at me through the screen.
“Look into that for me, will you, Anna?”
Anna clears her throat softly. “The, uh, the bodies or... the vampires in residence at—”
“The vampires,” Councillor Clements snaps, causing Anna to nod stiffly and begin tapping away at her laptop again. Although from the look she darts me over the screen, at least one person in this room isn’t unmoved about the pile of corpses that led to the Bad Vamps gaining power.
“They didn’t get what they wanted,” I tell her, ignoring my mother’s furious glare from behind the screen. “What do you think they’ll do next? Slink back to the shadows and lick their wounds, or try something else?”
Anna blinks and I can see she’s heard me. She at least understands the fucking mess we’re all in.
Too bad she’s not the one I need to convince.
“The magic you displayed—”
My mother doesn’t get an opportunity to damn me by finishing her question. Too distracted by a sudden surge in electricity that causes the screen she’s hiding behind to flicker and then go dead.
Then all the lights go out.
13
Fabian
“—they’re taking me somewhere now.” Silver’s voice sounds in my ear and I’m up and springing away from my desk the very next moment, sending papers scattering everywhere.
You’d think a job this close to being the head of a mostly criminal enterprise would be more glamorous. More suits and sunglasses, fewer meetings and less paperwork. But after that mess of a visit to the district earlier, I’m now drowning in paper.
I’m supposed to be meeting my father to talk things through. When I tried to catch him a few hours ago, he was ‘otherwise occupied’ once again with his girlfriend slash assistant. Cue another vat of brain bleach. No one needs to see their father naked as often as I have recently. Or ever.
I guess, at least it seems like Felix’s death hasn’t dampened his libido.
