“They’re so twisted.”
“That is not an answer.” The full weight of Dalziel’s displeasure surrounded the vampires. Sorley barely restrained a shiver.
Cormack shot the phone an insolent smirk. “I understand. But Saul is a wayward child and needs to be punished for his part in this.”
The Fae’s blue eyes popped wide. Trace Dempsey scoffed. “Oh dear, such delusion in someone really not in a bargaining position.”
“Seconded,” Justin bit out. “So, we’re all agreed this is the perpetrator of the crimes listed?” Everyone murmured their assent.
Saffi, the Fae, spoke up. “I believe it is clear that these are crimes that are too serious to be atoned for by any custodial sentence. Is it the will of the Council that the accused be made to pay in the most final of ways?”
There was an instant chorus of yeses from the screen and everyone present. Sorley shot Cormack a glance. The vampire was tense, his facial expression a mixture of indignant fury and resignation. His eyes weren’t still, darting this way and that as if expecting an exit to magically present itself. He was, as the saying went, shit out of luck.
Sorley’s throat felt like sandpaper. He was no stranger to death, but this felt somehow momentous. Maybe it was knowing Gethin, his mate, was standing next to him. Did he think Gethin would judge him? He wasn’t sure. But he was sure he would be the one expected to execute the man on the ground by his feet. A man who was bound and had no way of resisting. Maybe that was best? No chance it could go wrong. Previous kills had been the culmination of long chases and hand to hand fights before a victory was wrung from a lucky blow or superior skill. This, however, felt different, even though earlier he’d been insistent he would be the one to end Cormack’s reign of terror.
He inhaled a gulp of cool, damp night air and stood a little straighter. This was their justice. It had to be done.
52
GETHIN
Sorley was blastinga confusing cacophony of emotions on , apparently oblivious to the fact; his face was a hardened mask of disgust and fury.
Gethin felt no shred of pity for the monster who’d just had his death sentence confirmed. Who knew, perhaps the sick bastard wanted to die. Or die again, depending on how you viewed vampirism. But the Council were in agreement; there was no way he could ever be allowed a second’s freedom, so he had to pay. He reached out to touch Sorley’s arm.
“You okay in there?”
Sorley gave him a wan grin. “Aye. I’ll be grand.” He took a step back from the others and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Gethin stared. “Uh, love, what are you doing?” Not that he had picked up desire amongst the mélange of emotions, but Sorley was prone to being impulsive—No, he definitely wouldn’t, not now. He knew his man better than this.
Under his shirt was a light leather harness, tightly strapped down. Sorley unbuckled it and slid it down his arm. He briefly showed the attached holster to Gethin before extracting a dagger, no, astake, from its sheath. It had an intricate tooled metal handle and looked far too beautiful to be used for killing. Gethin leaned closer.
“What wood is that?”
“Hornbeam. Specifically the European, or common hornbeam. It’s a—”
“Very hard wood,” Edwin interrupted over their shoulders. “Perfect for the job, no messing about.”
Gethin shook his head with a rueful smile. Edwin wasn’t wrong. He turned his attention back to Sorley. “What’s going on in your head, cariad?”
“Huh? Oh, not much.”That’s a big fat lie.But Gethin let it pass.
“Is it expected that you do the honours?” He spoke low and gestured with a thumb behind them. Sorley nodded. “You all right with that?”
“He murdered a man. Hurt countless others. This is only what we know about. He’s strong, so probably older than I am, which means fuck knows how many have died at his hands. He has to go.”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” Gethin countered. He felt Sorley’s anxiety spike and wished he could offer to do it instead, but he had the feeling it would infuriate his mate and possibly undermine his status, maybe even diminish him in the eyes of Dalziel. Gethin had only heard rumours about Dalziel but he was fairly certain they were based on hard facts. Their sire was no slouch when it came to keeping order amongst their kind. He would expect his progeny to follow his example.
Alec eyed the stake. “I could do it,” he murmured. “Cormack wronged me as much as you. I have the right.”
“You do,” Sorley affirmed. “But I couldn’t let you.”
Gethin hadn’t known Alec long, but he agreed with Sorley. For such an old and powerful vampire, his demeanour was practically marshmallow. Gethin realised Sorley had been speaking the truth when he’d said Alec loved everyone unless they were a direct threat to himself or someone he loved.
Alec’s phone crackled. All four turned to it. Dalziel cleared his throat. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?”
“No, sire.” Sorley’s quick denial sent his anxiety spiking even higher. Gethin decided it would be better to beg for forgiveness than to seek permission. He ran through a few mental visuals of the human body and reckoned he could make it a clean kill—
