“What did he say?” you demanded. The twins’ faces echoed your question.
“I want him spared,” I said. “We could use his visions.”
“He lies,” you warned. You wanted him out of the way. “The shadowborn manipulate situations to serve their own ends. They make prophecies, then plot ways they might come to fruition.”
“He warned me before the First Feast that someone would try to poison me, and he was right,” I said in Orcus’s defense. The shadowborn nodded at me; it was an acknowledgment I’d never given him before.
“Who was it?” you asked in a seething rage, and I knew that whatever name I gave you would soon be added to your kill list.
I glanced down at Mater, beautiful even in death. You didn’t need to know about Stefan’s death plot, especially since your feelings toward him were just now starting to soften. “It doesn’t matter. They’re no longer a threat.”
“The Grigori must stand trial for this conspiracy,” Aretha said.
“Agreed. We need to assemble what’s left of the Tribal Council.” I glanced over to where Lucian was arranging Mater’s snakes like a crown around her head.
“What about him?” Anika nodded toward the human soldier.
“He’s our witness. He can answer any questions the Nephilim may have about what happened here.”
“You’re going to tell them the truth?” Aretha asked as though she didn’t trust me not to double-cross them.
“Of course. We caught them conspiring with Azrael. We’ll decide their punishment together. The tribes who lost a Council member can select a new one to replace them. From now on, the Nephilim will be leading the charge.” I glanced down at my leather breastplate, stained by Mater’s blood. The realization that she was truly dead—murdered by my own hand—finally struck me and I felt a little light-headed.
“I need to feed,” I said. “Let’s meet back at the council hall in the morning and make an announcement to the other tribes.”
Hyas lifted Lena’s lifeless body and followed closely behind Lucian who led us back out of the catacombs. The twins would take custody of the Grigori elders and the human soldier to be guarded until the morning.
It wasn’t until we were back in our rooms and we were each sucking back a bottle of blood that you asked, “How are you feeling?”
“I expected to feel more.” A strange detachment had overcome me when my blade crossed Mater’s throat, one that had not yet lifted. “Are you upset by what I did?” I relied on you to tell me when I’d gone too far.
“You did what I’ve only dreamed of doing. She was always able to talk her way out of it, or it was my own familial bond that stayed my hand. You were… decisive.”
“She didn’t leave me much choice. I want Azrael destroyed, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it happen. Does that make me a bad person?”
“No. I only wish I’d acted a long time ago. You shouldn’t have to bear this burden.”
“We’re all warriors in this revolution,” I said, citing Aretha’s own words to us. “And I need to take responsibility for her actions and my own. Will the warborn side with us, you think?”
“If they want this revolution to succeed, then yes. But if they want to conquer the other tribes, including our own, you’ve given them the perfect opportunity to overthrow you.”
“I guess this will be their chance to prove themselves one way or another.” I set to cleaning Mater’s blood off my leather in preparation for our Tribal Council meeting. I thought about the way Lucian had held her, like something sacred. “Will Lucian avenge her?”
Your brow furrowed and your mouth formed a grim line. “I don’t know.”
Outside our window the first light of dawn was breaking over the horizon and with it, the realization that I’d have to unite the tribes under my leadership or be expelled from their ranks. Or worse.
Despite our best efforts,rumor about what had happened in the catacombs spread, and we met the tribes with open hostility. They didn’t like seeing their Grigori masters bound and tried as criminals. It didn’t help matters that Lucian had recently commissioned thirteen thrones crafted in our honor, each carved with our unique tribal crests. All but four of them now stood empty.
“Why is my mother being held?” Eubuleus demanded from the front of the mob. A similar demand was made by Apate’s son Dolos.
“There doesn’t seem to be much sense in waiting,” I said to Aretha, who was seated at my side. “Would you like to start us off, or should I?”
“You can take the lead on this one, sunborn.”
I stood and asked that everyone quiet down enough for me to speak. I endured a lot of dirty looks and slurs aimed in my direction. You took a menacing step toward the advancing crowd, and Hyas appealed to the panicborn to settle everyone. When at last the room was mostly quiet, I relayed the events from the night before.
“Yesterday evening I was alerted to suspicious activity in the catacombs,” I began, then recounted how the three of us—you, me, and Lucian—had brought the warborn with us below ground to investigate. “When we got there, we found the Grigori…” I motioned to the lot of prisoners before me. “Sharing dreams. I infiltrated their dream share and discovered they were plotting against our revolution with none other than the Angel of Death. Lena, my own mother, had agreed to disclose the locations of the warborn’s secret bases in exchange for her tribal lands. And others as well.” I left out the part about your personhood being part of the package. Too personal.
