She faces the Commission and wrings her hands nervously, but speaks. Everything is in Croatian, but the pain and anger are tangible within her voice.
I’m exhausted and won’t be able to hold on any longer, but I think about what will happen if I don’t. It fuels me to not let go yet. If I were hanging from a ledge, my fingertips would be torn and bleeding.
As Cila continues her story, her voice rises and tears well in her eyes. They stream down her cheeks. She doesn’t wipe them, though. She points at Sandor and yells.
My hold over the audience is slipping, and murmuring starts in the back.
My whole body’s shaking.
I can’t hold my head up anymore.
I drop it back and look up the ceiling, tilting it so the light isn’t directly in my eyes.
Movement in the rafters catches my attention. I squint to see more detail.
Mirko!
He really did keep his word.
I lose my focus, and my awareness snaps back with so much speed, I see white spots dancing in the dark.
Pandemonium fills the amphitheater.
People are talking, yelling, moving from their seats.
It’s chaos.
Cila finishes speaking and stands there, crying and staring at Sandor.
“Settle down!” Ivan yells, as he glares at Sandor. Everyone else is scowling at me.
The noise slowly softens, but there’s still mumbling from the back.
“We will take a vote now,” Ivan says, and the room quiets further.
The Commissioners move from their chairs, away from the other seats to a small space on the platform, and stand in a tight circle.
I peer up at Mirko again. I hope he can forgive me for what I just did. I’m dead now.
This is it.
CHAPTER FORTY
Mirko
The Commissioners talk for a long time.
The audience is restless, their voices growing louder. A few people point at Sandor. Someone yells a nasty slur at Brooke.
I peer down into the crowd, trying to find the bastard who said it.
I crawl closer to the center of the ceiling. If the Commission votes to punish Brooke, I’m dropping down and fighting anyone who gets in our way of getting out of here.
The Commission finally breaks apart and each of them takes their extravagant seats. Every chair is embellished with jewels the color of their lines’ znaks.
“Settle down,” Ivan says to the mass of chattering people. “Settle down. We will now vote.”
Brooke sits up taller on her stool, gripping the seat.
“As to the vote of punishing Brooke Keller for slaying Jelena Posavski, Abdul-Hakeem, how do you vote?”
Abdul-Hakeem stands. “Punish with death,” he says and sits down.
I swallow because I’m nervous enough to throw up.
A couple of women in the audience gasp.
“As to the vote of punishing Brooke Keller for slaying Jelena Posavski, Chen, how do you vote?”
Chen stands. “Punish with death.”
Someone whoops in agreement. They’re lucky I don’t know who, or they’d face my wrath.
Ivan continues down the row, one Commissioner after another. “As to the vote of punishing Brooke Keller for slaying Jelena Posavski, Sandor, you hypocrite, how do you vote?”
Sandor glowers at Ivan, but votes the same as the previous two.
Ivan asks Anton and Florian next.
“Do not punish,” Florian answers, the same as Anton. Their votes are almost liberating.
Three votes for punishment, and two for freedom. The next is Orell.
I clench my jaw. If he doesn’t vote for Brooke, or at the least void his vote, I’ll kill him myself.
“As to the vote of punishing Brooke Keller for slaying Jelena Posavski, Orell, how do you vote?”
Orell stands, but he looks around as if he’s not certain which way to vote.
Son of a bitch, void it!
“I cannot vote on this matter, as I feel I am not impartial.”
Yes!
“As you wish,” Ivan says. “That leaves only my vote. I remain impartial,” he looks at Sandor and shakes his head slightly, “thus I vote we not punish Brooke in this matter.”
Yes! Three against three. It’s tied. Cila’s testimony had to have helped our case.
I frown as uncertainty takes hold of me again. What happens now? Before, Zladislov’s vote would outweigh the tie.
But they’re not giving him a vote.
Sandor whispers something to Abdul-Hakeem that is probably along those same lines.
“In the event of a tied vote, Zladislov’s vote outranks the others,” Ivan says. “However, since I have been placed in charge to conduct this meeting, my vote will be the prevailing vote.”
I’m elated. I scramble back on the rafter to get to the walkway and the door.
Chen stands and points into Ivan’s face.
I stop and grip the steel beam.
“We gave you reign over the meeting, not over the Commission.”
Ivan stands and meets Chen face to face. “I am not acting as Head of the Commission. This meeting was to vote on the punishment of Brooke Keller, and I was given reign over it until the situation with Zladislov is resolved. Now are we going to vote on that matter as well, or not?”
Chen stares down Ivan for a few long breaths before he turns and takes his seat.
“The vote with Brooke Keller is settled,” Ivan announces.
I swallow. Brooke’s free, and that’s all I could hope for, but I really don’t want to see them overrule Zladislov. We’ll go back to war, and there’s no way I will be able to stay out of it and not fight for myself, my brothers, and my sisters. And Brooke. I’ll always fight for her.
Ivan turns toward the crowd and addresses them. “It has come to our attention that one of our own has betrayed our kind, as Brooke Keller is our sound evidence. We shall now vote on the issue. As to the vote of relinquishing Zladislov Posavski as Head of the Commission, Chen, how do you vote?”
Chen stands. “Relinquish Zladislov Posavski from Head of the Commission.”
I was expecting that, but I still clench my jaw after hearing it.
Abdul-Hakeem answers the same before Ivan turns to Anton, skipping Sandor.
“As to the vote of relinquishing Zladislov Posavski as Head of the Commission, Anton, how do you vote?”
Anton stands. “I vote to keep Zladislov Posavski as Head of the Commission.”
I was also expecting that, but I smile regardless. Zladislov told us how the votes might go, but nothing is certain.
“As to the vote of relinquishing Zladislov Posavski as Head of the Commission, Florian, how do you vote?”
Florian stands. “I vote to keep Zladislov Posavski as Head of the Commission.”
I exhale in relief. We’re so close.
Ivan asks Orell his vote.
“What of Sandor’s vote?” Orell asks.
Sandor sits rigidly in his throne.
Ivan answers. “I’m still considering if he will get a vote in this matter. It appears we have proof that would deem him unable to remain impartial, do we not?”
Orell stands and turns around, locking eyes with Zladislov.
I swear to God if he doesn’t void his vote, I’m telling everyone Emerik’s a melez. Orell will never vote on the Commission again.
“Again,” Orell says, “I cannot vote in this matter.” He sits down and rubs his hand over his face. That was hard for him, but I don’t care.
Now, if Sandor doesn’t get his vote, it’s down to Ivan. I shake my head. One man. It may come down to one man.
Ivan looks at Orell in confusion for a moment before he stands. “I have determined Sandor cannot remain impartial in this matter, and thus shall not vote.”
Disturbance from the crowd causes Ivan to raise his hands and shush them. “As long as we have reigned over the earth,” he speaks over the more stubborn audience members, “we have
been against mixing of the bloodlines. Our race must remain pure, and thus the custom of cleansing out alterations and punishing those responsible for them has been prevalent.”
The crowd buzzes with more conversation and affirmations.
“But,” Ivan speaks loudly again to hush them, “this has always been a custom and not a rule. Therefore, I cannot see on what grounds I can vote to relinquish Zladislov Posavski from the Head of the Commission. My vote is to keep him as he always has been.”
We won!
Applause mixed with curses spews from the audience.
Sandor stands in Ivan’s face and exchanges what appears to be heated words.
Brooke jumps up from her stool and squeals. She runs toward the doors she entered.
I slide along the rafter back to the walkway, climb over the metal railing, and book it to the door.
I cruise down the stairs and out to the hallway.
I’m almost to the door when Brooke comes out. She runs faster and leaps into me, wrapping her arms around my neck.
I squeeze her close to me and kiss her on the mouth.
She kisses back as she slides down and touches her toes to the ground.
“You did it,” I say between kisses.
She pulls back and beams at me.
“I thought I was going to have to drop down and fight to get you out of there.”
“I can’t believe you were up there. What if you fell?” She smacks my chest, but she’s still smiling.
“You know I wouldn’t have.”
“Come on,” she says pulling me by my hand, “let’s go see my dad.”
I pull back, hesitant.
“Do you think anyone will actually try to stop us now?” She raises her eyebrows at me.
I grin at her. My girl is one badass Pijawika. I’m so getting her naked in my bed tonight.
We follow the curved hall back toward the building’s front entrance to make our way into the auditorium seating.
The hall is filling with the crowd coming out. Some of the people glare at Brooke.
I tighten my hold on her hand.
Some of the Pijawikas smile at her, but most look through her, like she doesn’t exist to them.
An argument breaks out farther down the hall, and shuffling echoes along the old plaster walls.
Everyone peers over at the fuss.
I move in front of Brooke as the racket moves our way.
Someone steps between us, bending my wrist and breaking my hold on Brooke’s hand.
I turn around to grab her, but she’s swept into the crowd. “Brooke!” I elbow people out of my way to reach her.
She doesn’t answer my call.
“Brooke?” I’m frantic and shoving people harder out of my way. I walk much farther than I think she should have gone.
I double back to where we were separated.
She’s not there.
“Brooke!”
My eyes are wild as they search the faces in the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the blue in Brooke’s dress.
“Brooke!” I spin around, combing through the swarm.
My stomach knots when she doesn’t answer me. “Brooke! Brooke! Where are you, dammit?”
Zladislov steps in front of me with Vasek. “What’s going on?”
I push him out of my way, seeking to find her.
He grabs me by the arm and turns me around. “Where is Brooke?”
I scour the faces passing by. “She was just right here,” I growl. Does he not feel her? Panic overwhelms me.
“Well, she couldn’t have gone far,” Vasek says, looking around.
I move away from them, through the thinning crowd.
Brooke should be popping up now, making her way toward me.
The pain in my chest is unbearable. I rub it hard with the palm of my hand.
“Brooooooooke!”
She still doesn’t answer me.
I drop to my knees in anguish.
Brooke’s gone.
SNEAK PEEK: FORBIDDEN TO KILL, CHAPTER ONE
Brooke
Awareness tickles at the edges of my mind, and right behind it is a splitting headache.
My reflex is to push against my temples and stop my head from exploding, but I’m on my side, arms tied behind my back and something over my head.
Before I can get my bearings, I’m jostled across the van’s grooved floor—
A van?
I’m tied up, gagged, and moving in the back of a van!
What the heck happened to me?
Despite my panic and the searing pain pounding my coherency away, I try to recall the last place I was.
We had the meeting, my testimony.
We won and my dad was going to be freed.
Mirko!
I was with Mirko!
The pain in my head is so fierce, I’m on the verge of blacking out.
I fight it.
I hold onto Mirko’s face—
His hand! I was holding his hand, and we were heading back into the amphitheater.
People. Lots of people.
Their faces blur in and out. I can’t make out their features, save for their angry eyes, but as the image expands, it gets blurry.
Then there was a loud noise. The sledgehammer in my head pounds harder recalling it.
I exhale deeply, trying to ease the pressure.
I still can’t get my bearings.
I’m confused.
Mirko’s hand slipped away from mine and I’m moved deeper into the crowd. I heard him saying my name, and I opened my mouth to holler back to him, but a firm hand clutched my arm and something heavy hit me on the head. And then nothing.
I loll my head to the side and the goose egg along the back of my skull rolls against one of the grooves in the floor.
Sharp pain shoots along my scalp and down my neck.
My gasp is impeded by the gag in my mouth, so my nostrils inhale the air I can’t get otherwise. The air is moist and thick inside the head cover.
Somehow through the panic and the confusion, my mind has enough sense to wander the minds in the van with me. And the moment is beyond surreal. It’s as if my mind is a camera and zooms in and out, expanding my view, giving me almost a second sight.
My conscious mind is confused, and hurt, and lame, but the subconscious part knows I’ve been kidnapped and remembers I’m a vampire.
I follow her, my subconscious mind, as she roams the awareness in the van.
She’s smart enough to stop the fear from controlling her, to grab a signature so she can ID the perpetrator before we flex out of here.
I feel three minds in here with me, but I’m mentally too weak to penetrate them or do anything more than wander near them.
My dad didn’t tell me how much mental stamina it would take to use and control the minds of an amphitheater full of people.
Probably because he didn’t know I could do it, or that he should’ve warned me.
My weak attempt reminds me of a video we watched in science class last year of the birth of a baby deer. When the doe tried to stand up, her legs wobbled and she didn’t have the upper body strength to push herself upright.
My mind is the weak upper body of that doe.
Screw it.
Self-preservation is stronger than revenge right now, so I focus all my energy on flexing out of here.
I may not be able to do that, either, because the power originates in my mind, but it’s a different kind of mental exertion.
I can do this.
I squeeze my eyes shut. The chronic pounding in my head is a beating drum in my ears.
I hold my breath to ease the drums, and flex.
I don’t go anywhere.
The trill of the van’s motor is constant.
I bite down on the gag and try harder.
Ringing sounds in my ears and drowns out the drums.
But I remain in the van.
Panic overwhelms me, overwhelms my subconscious even, and together we scream into
the gag.
“Welcome back, mi lijepa.”
I know that voice.
And it grates on the edge of my spine the same way it did the last time he held me captive.
Dikan.
<<<<<>>>>>
To see images that inspired scenes, places, and characters (especially Mirko!) from this novel, visit Angeline’s Pintrest board here.
BLOOD RULE BY HEATHER HILDENBRAND TEASER
Book #4 in the Dirty Blood series
Coming Summer 2013
Chapter One
The strains of an electric guitar maxing out against its amp filled my eardrums. At maximum volume, heavy metal music made my organs rattle and my heartbeat erratic. Neither of these were things I found particularly enjoyable. However, at that many decibels, the music also drowned out any noise inside my own head. And these days, my head held a lot of noise.
Forty-six.
That’s how many hybrids survived the Hunter attack in the woods after I revived them with an injection of my blood. That’s how many followed me home to Frederick Falls. And that’s how many were now linked to me through a blood bond. At its base form, the bond was an emotional connection—or at least it had been when I’d only been bonded with my friend George—but with forty-six more of them bonded to me through a mostly-magical-but-also-somehow-scientifically-explainable blood connection, it’d become strong enough that I’d begun hearing actual voices on occasion.
It had taken me three valium and fourteen hours of sleep before I’d convinced myself the voices were real and not some sort of psychotic break after all I’d been through. My mother still wasn’t entirely convinced.
When the bond happened with George a couple of months ago, I’d wondered how I’d ever get used to constantly having access to someone else’s emotions. It was a live feed with no “off” button. And for a while, it was overwhelming, making it impossible to know which feelings were mine and which were his. Not to mention the awkwardness of him feeling what I felt. Especially when things got a little heavy with a certain Werewolf boyfriend of mine. Wes found it amusing—until he realized a shared, constant stream of emotion meant he didn’t get past first base. Then he was just as frustrated as me.
I’d just begun to get it under control, finding ways to turn the volume down a few notches, when I’d woken the bond between myself and the dozens of hybrids Miles De’Luca created before he’d been killed. After his death, his mother, Olivia, had forced me to inject them all with my blood as a means to save them from the change of becoming a Werewolf.
Enemy Within (Vampire Born Trilogy, #2) Page 29