And yet, seeing them bothered like I’d just opened the gates to the Netherworld on purpose also made me feel slightly less nervous. No one paid any attention to my gloves. That’s when I knew this had nothing to do with my gift.
This was something else, perhaps equally as important in their eyes. Curious.
Still standing, the younger male witch made a loud judgmental noise and placed his hands on his hips. “She disobeyed the simplest of instructions—to leave her wretched demon at the door,” he accused with an overdone dramatic flair in his speech. “And you think she’ll keep her mouth shut? She won’t. She’s just like that old Evanora Crow. She can’t be trusted.”
Oooh. You’re going down, buddy, I told him with my eyes. No one talks badly about my aunt without a little broom beating.
I hated this guy. He had the wild eyes of the ambitious wanting to climb the dark witch court ladder and fast. His stance said he wasn’t afraid to eliminate everything and everyone who stood in his way. I hated the overzealous, the kind who stepped over the weak to get ahead.
That’s it. I’m making him a voodoo doll.
Poe shifted on my shoulder, feeling my discomfort. “Maybe I should have stayed outside.”
“It’s too late for that now,” I whispered. The female bald witch looked as though she wanted to cook Poe in her cauldron later.
“Sit down, Tran,” ordered the older male witch with a beard. “You’re giving me whiplash.” A wave of force echoed out from his words, giving the feeling of a gust of wind.
Tran gave me a foul look as he let himself fall in his chair, looking like a spoiled brat who just got his time-out.
Small, pale eyes found me as the old male witch lifted a bony arm and pointed to the row of seats behind me. “Take a seat, Samantha Beaumont.”
I cast my gaze about the court. A nervous energy hung about them with the way they shifted in their seats. It was almost as though they were scared. But scared of what? This wasn’t a trial either. This was something else.
I turned and lowered myself in the nearest seat facing the stage. “Who’s the old guy?” I whispered to Poe, resisting the urge to wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans.
“That’s Darius Gruenwald,” answered the raven, his voice low so only I could hear. “Head of the dark witch court.”
Ah-ha. So this was the infamous witch Darius.
“He took a turn for the worst three years ago when he summoned the demon Beleth,” continued the raven. “The demon turned on him and he barely made it out alive. Beleth gave him that scar on his face to remember him by, so he wouldn’t be summoned again. The old fool’s never been the same since.”
Old fool was right. Another witch playing with demons, thinking they could control a mighty powerful demon. He probably had no idea who Beleth was. I did.
Beleth was a mighty and terrible king of the Netherworld, who had eighty-five legions of demons under his command. Demons like Beleth didn’t take kindly to being forced into a summoning circle. Darius was lucky to be alive.
Darius shifted in his seat, and a pained expression flickered across his face for a second, as though just that small movement caused him great amounts of pain. Seems like Beleth left the old man some scars on the inside as well.
“Thank you for coming to meet with us on such short notice, Samantha,” said Darius as he folded his hands on the table. His gnarled fingers looked like they’d been broken too many times to heal properly.
I wasn’t sure what to answer. “Sure.” It’s not like I had a choice. They knew it. I knew it. My eyes found Tran, and he was glaring at me. I glared back. “Why am I here?” I didn’t even attempt to hide the irritation in my voice. I hated not knowing what was going on. If this had nothing to do with my gift, why was I here?
Darius nodded his head. “James, if you please.”
A male witch stepped from the shadows next to the stage, making me flinch. I’d never even noticed him. He wore a dark gray robe similar to the ones from the court members, though he was down here in the shadows while they were up on display.
He disappeared through a wall of heavy red curtains to the right of the stage, and when he came back, he pushed a gurney.
“What is that?” I whispered, leaning forward.
“Cake?” prompted Poe, excitement in his voice. “I’m starving.”
The gurney was covered with a black sheet, and under it was a bundle that had the right proportions to be a body.
“That’s not a cake,” commented Poe.
“That’s not a cake.”
“A cake would have been nice.”
“Definitely nice,” I agreed.
James pushed the gurney on the lower level and parked it at the front of the stage. Then he stepped back, leaving it covered with the black sheet.
Darius cleared his throat again and I pulled my eyes from the gurney to his face. “An unfortunate incident has been called to our attention,” he intoned. “Of a somewhat... delicate nature. It is the reason we called you here tonight, Samantha. The court needs your assistance.”
I stood up, Poe balancing on my shoulder with his wings tickling my neck. My pulse rose as I moved towards the gurney, the thumping of my boots on the carpet forming a rhythm with the drum of my heart. I clenched my jaw, already knowing what I was going to find under the sheet.
Standing where I’d assumed was the head, I gripped a handful of the sheet and yanked it off.
Shit.
A wave of nausea hit as I stared at an emaciated, mummy-like face and withered hands, delicate and small. My gaze moved to the tiny chunks of flesh missing from the neck next to the jugular vein.
And behind the dried and emaciated skin, was the face of another woman.
I blinked into a smaller, more petite face than the one I’d seen in the alley. It had withered from life but was different all the same.
“What is it?” Poe whispered in my ear. “Something’s wrong. Isn’t it?”
My heart thundered in my ears, and I stilled my face to keep from showing any emotion. “This isn’t the same victim,” I whispered back, my lips barely moving.
The ancient vampire had killed another human.
5
When people say they “require your assistance,” it usually means it’ll be bad for you. It’s a way for them not to get their hands dirty and for you to get all muddied up in whatever they wanted you to do. Me. Well, I had no choice. I was screwed.
Okay, so the situation wasn’t great, but it wasn’t disastrous either. If they knew I’d come across this vampire and hadn’t reported it, I’d be in deep in the crapper. It was part of my job to report suspicious half-breed activity, not to mention killings. However, vampire killings were not our problem. The vampires were responsible for taking care of their own. Or better yet, it was the Gray Council’s responsibility. I knew I’d better keep that bit of information about the other killing to myself.
Relax, Sam. They still don’t know.
Darius leaned forward on the table, his face wrinkling in anger. His small eyes blazed with scorn and fury. “A vampire did this. That—we can all agree. The proof is undeniable.”
And I saw him.
“Though it was hard to identify her in this state of... disintegration,” continued Darius, “her family was able to recognize her by her clothes. Her name was Audrey.”