A resounding "No!" rang out in the room and from the speakers on the phone.
"Nosferatu are at risk. War will take numbers from our lines," Michel continued. "None of us can bear to lose vampyres. None of us willingly sacrifice our own."
Another round of raised voices, this time all in agreement.
"Even those we believe are trustworthy are testing our weakened defences as we speak." He was referring, of course, to the Keeper's behaviour right now. Michel obviously guessed the Foreteller had already advised the Creator of this fact. "We need all the talents we can muster, we need to rely on all the skills available to us. We need to make ourselves strong when others believe us to be weak. And only then can we strike."
"What do you suggest, Champion?" the Ambrosia asked, but I got the feeling he was playing a role. His question moderated, pre-thought. It was spoken with no inflection at all.
"We are one short on the Council," Michel said and my heart skipped a beat that I frantically covered with my Light. "I recommend we fill it with someone who would be a powerful ally, an asset to our cause."
"Who do suggest, Champion?" Gregor, the Enforcer asked. And I knew then, that this had been planned all along. Whether Michel had known the Keeper would act or not - or he even instigated the whole event using the Keeper as scapegoat - I can't be certain. But he had definitely intended to put this plan of his in motion tonight.
Why hadn't he warned me? I could only think it was because he needed my reaction to the Keeper's attack to be genuine. To come from within me and not be contrived. He needed those vampires here to see how I behaved in stressful situations. He was showing me off, without me being aware I was on show.
And he hadn't even given me a day to recover from my Dream Walk coma. I felt incredibly honoured by that fact.
"I suggest," Michel said in a commanding voice, "that we take advantage of an age old alliance. We strengthen our coffers and surprise those who come against us. With power we will shock and awe." He waited a moment for that to sink in and then he turned slightly towards me, his eyes still blazing magenta, his face an inscrutable mask. "I recommend the Prophesied. I ask for a vote tonight."
Silence met his announcement and I thought perhaps he had pushed for this too soon. There was no way the vampires would go for a Nosferatin on their Council. A Nosferatin had never been an Iunctio Councillor before. Despite our powers fuelling their coffers. Despite us being kindred to their kind. Despite the fact that we were once of the same ilk. There was no way in hell these vampires, even Gregor, would go for that.
I held Michel's gaze, kept a neutral mask on my face and waited for the outcries of shock to start.
"I vote 'yea'," Michel said softly, his eyes flashing a mixture of violet hues in the room's artificial lights.
"I vote 'yea'," the Ambrosia said and took a seat at his back, looking relaxed and unconcerned with any further voting.
"I vote 'yea'," Gregor said and flashed me a wink. I forced myself not to smile in response, but my heart was singing. I may not have wanted this initially, but if Gregor had voted against me it would have hurt.
Strangely, now that Michel had put it out there and I realised that out of all the Nosferatins I would be best suited to do this job, part of me wanted it now. I have understood responsibility for some time. I am the Prophesied to the Nosferatins. With that role comes incredible power, but also incredible responsibility. It took time for me to accept that, but now it's like a second skin. And right now the Iunctio was threatened. I may have despised it in the past, but that was before Michel was Champion, before he began washing it in his Light.
Wasn't a Lighter Iunctio what I had always wanted? What Natalyia and Sergei had spoken of just a few weeks ago? The Iunctio had taken a Dark path under the previous Champion, and had she been allowed to continue on that path, where would the Nosferatins be? I may have had my clashes with the organisation that ruled all supernaturals, but without them my life would be pure hell.
And now, with Michel as the Champion and Light shining on the Palais, I could actually see myself getting involved.
And I wanted it. I wanted to call the Dark towards the Light. Even the Dark of the Iunctio.
I drew in a slow breath and held it, even if the vampires there could tell I was holding my breath in anticipation, I didn't care. I wanted this now. If they said no, Michel's job would be so much harder. They were already at war with some of their own, they needed the Nosferatins now, more than ever. I would bring the Nosferatins.
"I vote 'yea'," the Scribe said quietly, flashing a brilliant smile in my direction as his powder blue eyes met mine. He'd helped me out in the past, come to my aid when the former Champion had attacked. He earned more Brownie points tonight.
That left the two vampires on the line. I knew neither of them. The Creator was relatively new and the Foreteller scared the hell out of me. My lungs were starting to burn with lack of air.
"I vote 'yea'," the Foreteller said, confirming he'd seen this outcome already. He was backing the side his visions had predicted would win, or would bring about a favourable conclusion for the Iunctio. It was a ringing endorsement, but not foolproof. His visions were abstract, not always conclusive and required his personal interpretation. What he saw may not be what others would perceive.
Still, it was more than I could have expected and I felt a sliver of hope settle in my heart. I refused to give it too much purchase, anything could happen. How would the Creator vote?
The silence stretched uncomfortably. I felt a trickle of sweat sweep down between my shoulder blades. My stomach was well and truly rolling now, the need to be sick and eat some food were warring unmercifully inside me right then. I was hungry, sweaty and not just a little queasy. A strange and unexpected combination, to be sure.
Finally he spoke, and it was everything I had come to expect from vampires.
"She is not even Nosferatu," the Creator said. "Must I remind you of our laws?" The Creator was the rule maker of the Iunctio Council. He wrote Nosferatu - and to a certain extent all supernatural - law. If anyone could see a legal impediment to me being a Councillor it would be he.
"What rule would that be?" the Ambrosia asked from his seated position, his legs crossed at the knee and booted foot bouncing merrily, as though tension wasn't thick in the air right then.
"4.2, page 23 of the Council Charter. 'That all Councillors must be of the Nosferatu'."
Well, that put paid to that. The Ambrosia began chuckling quietly, but didn't say anything, he left that up to Michel.
"Is that the only rule you believe this vote is in transgression of?" Michel asked casually.
"Yes," the Creator replied. "But it is enough, Champion. Surely you can see that."
"I wrote the rule, so yes, I understand it," Michel replied, reminding everyone he once held the position of the Creator for close to four hundred years. "But this vote is not in transgression of it, Creator."
I heard a splutter on the other end of the phone, and then the Creator saying, "Please explain, if you will, Champion."
"We were once of the same ilk," Michel said quietly. "The first vampyre was a Nosferatin returned to existence using his Twin Soul. We all descend from him, who in turn descends from a Nosferatin. To be vampyre, we must accept we are of the Nosferatins."
Silence again. Then, "Is this true?" from the Creator.
"Yes, quite true," the Ambrosia said happily. Then added, "The Prophesied is related to us, several times removed. She would, like any Nosferatin, fit the criteria of your rules. Of course, I would not recommend any old Nosferatin for the role, but considering she just took out two cloaked vampyres within two seconds flat and didn't bat an eye, I'd say there's more Nosferatu in the girl, than Nosferatin."
I think I did bat an eye, but who was I to argue? I stared at the ancient vampire with a new sense of respect. He was so my man.
"Well, that is, of course, very impressive," the Creator said. "If the rules are satisfied, I can see the appeal." H
e paused again, but this time for not as long. "I vote 'yea'."
And just like that, I had received six votes out of the possible eleven Councillors of the Iunctio. Enough to gain a seat.
Lucinda Monk: Farm girl from Cambridge, Sanguis Vitam Cupitor, Prohibitum Bibere, Lux Lucis Tribuo, Kindred to the Champion, Nosferatin, was now an Iunctio Councillor.
The Prophesied. The twelfth Councillor of the Revered Iunctio.
Chapter 27
Taking The Blame
OK, so I had wanted this, but if I didn't get somewhere quiet soon I was definitely going to chuck. Oh Goddess, what had I agreed to? The Councillors in the room congratulated me, Gregor going so far as to give me a kiss on the cheek. In a whirlwind of activity I was sworn in, my blood spilled on an ancient piece of parchment the Ambrosia procured out of nowhere, sealing my fate. And binding me to the other eleven Councillors.
Should one die, I would feel it. Should one need to call on part of the combined power of the Iunctio, I would sense that pull. And should I require a power boost, I too could call on part of that Nosferatin and Nosferatu joining power, held by the Iunctio, and cared for by the Keeper. It was a little surreal and the sweat that had started trickling down my back throughout the vote was now covering my entire body. Head to toe I was awash with prickling goosebumps, a sheen of perspiration coating me. I struggled not to pant.
Michel sensed my distress. Hell, I was sure the others did too, but thankfully, all appeared allies and chose to ignore my dwindling self control. I relied on my Light to get me through, blanketing myself in its comforting glow. I would have been shining brighter than anything else in the room and I only hoped those present believed it was a show of power, not the crutch it actually was.
Finally, after formalities were completed, Michel recommended a break for dinner, before the next Council session began. Even if the vampires didn't eat food like I did, they did require blood. Luck proved mine, because none of those vampires present - save Michel - had fed yet tonight. The meeting broke and the Councillors with their guards flowed out of the room, leaving me alone with Michel and our own guards.
I was sitting again, with Marcus and Natalyia behind me at the couch. Michel's eyes - now vibrant Mediterranean Sea blue - swept over me and he visibly paled.
"How long has she been like this?" he asked Natalyia I think, but his eyes didn't leave me.
"Since we arrived in London she has been weaker," Nataliya replied.
"And you did not think it wise to inform me?" Michel asked, his voice not harsh, but it didn't need to be. The accusation was in the words, not the tone.
"We could not determine if it was simply weariness due to lack of sleep, or something else," she replied, voice strong in the face of the Champion’s building anger.
"And now?" he asked. "What do you determine?"
I was starting to get a little pissed off. Being spoken about as though I wasn't even there. But exhaustion made it difficult to act on the anger their conversation caused. A sudden realisation hit me. I was sick. There was definitely something wrong.
"I have no answer for you, Champion," Natalyia said. "But we have noticed more than just exhaustion."
"Such as?" Michel asked.
"The Mistress has been... emotional. Quick to weep." I did manage a glare at my vampire then. Tattletale.
Michel hadn't moved from his position before me, looming over me almost, his eyes fixed on my face. I felt a small blush creep up my cheeks, feeling inexcusably embarrassed at the weaknesses I had shown. It wasn't like me. I pride myself on my courage. I'd let myself - and by extension, him - down.
"Don't be ridiculous," Michel said softly. "You could never do that."
My head dipped, face towards the floor and with mortification I realised I was about to cry. Goddess damn it! What the hell was wrong with me? From feeling horny and all sexy-powerful earlier this evening, to now, feeling nothing more than a blubbering, useless mess.
And he'd just recommended me to be a Councillor. Some Councillor I was going to be.
Michel sighed and ran a hand through his hair, freeing it from the clip at his nape. I watched the strands of midnight dark fall softly around his face and wanted to nestle my nose in them, to smell his scent and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist. I wanted to curl up in his lap and stay safe and secure within his arms. And I wanted to sleep for a week. And eat fried pineapple rings dipped in sugar. And lick sugar off his body, drizzle him in pineapple juice and lap it all up. Maybe place one of the pineapple rings on his...
Michel cleared his throat, bringing my attention back to the room at large and not the part of his anatomy I was currently zoning out staring at.
The blush blazed bright and clear. Michel smiled down at me, but there was worry behind the smile. He was rampant with it and I didn't blame him. No wonder his dragon-within had started behaving all crazy protective, we'd overlooked a serious issue, and he was trying to let us know. Why his dragon didn't just tell him outright, I'm not sure. But he'd seen I was sick and we hadn't. It was killing Michel that he hadn't picked up on it until now.
"Perhaps the fairy has done something to you," Michel suggested, coming to sit beside me on the couch. His warm hand slipped into mine, he brought my palm up to his lips to kiss, then settled both our hands, clasped together, in his lap.
"I can call him, I still have the gem," I said, reaching for the little yellow Fey talisman Aliath had given me, that would call the Dökkálfa King to me in times of need.
"Not yet, ma douce," Michel said, resting his free hand over mine in my pocket. "Confronting him will be a last resort. To ask the fairy would beholden us to him, and right now with his battles mounting in Álfheimr he could ask for more than we are capable of paying in return. Desperate men act desperately. My sources tell me the Dökkálfa King is becoming desperate."
I worried at my bottom lip. Aliath was a friend of sorts, despite recent imprisonment by him in his fairy palace. I didn't like hearing that the battle between his Fey Court and the Ljósálfar was going so poorly. Several concerning outcomes could eventuate if the Dökkálfa didn't win this war.
Just then Sergei entered the room with a tray of food. I smelled the fried pineapple ring before I saw it. My mouth began salivating immediately. By the time he placed the tray on my lap I was licking my lips. The sticky, sweet pineapple was between my teeth before the tray was even settled. I think I moaned around the mouthful, but I was lost to the delicious flavour. Pineapple juice dribbled down my chin, but the distraction didn't interrupt my pleasure. Michel watched with a look of bemusement on his face. The other vampires all pretended I wasn't making a pig of myself right then.
I poked around the plate to see what else my vampire had brought me. Hot dog; sausage dipped in batter on a long stick, coated in tomato sauce. I grew up in New Zealand eating these things and I couldn't think of a better choice of sustenance right then. I devoured the sausage and moved on to the fried chips.
Michel, for all his arguments about artery clogging fatty foods, had gone ahead and arranged for what I had asked. I smiled up at him, aware ketchup was probably framing my lips, but didn't care. He'd made me happy, I wanted him to know.
He shook his head at me, but the smile he returned was more relaxed, the worry of earlier dissipating slightly. I guess if I was eating so heartily, then I couldn't be that sick.
"I have no idea what is happening with you, ma douce. Even this delight in such food is not normal behaviour for you. Still, I am relieved you are eating at all."
I was too and by the time I finished the meal, I felt I could face the night. Sergei had disappeared again, but he came back in the room holding a cup. I knew instantly what was inside it. Coffee. Fluffy white milky espresso. My drink of choice. He handed the mug to me with a simple nod and then went and stood by the door. I wiped my face on a napkin and brought the drink up to my lips for the first taste. It had been days since I'd had a decent coffee. Goddess, I had missed it.
Michel,
satisfied that I was indeed better, relaxed into the seat at my side.
"You are probably aware that Avery Rousseau heads the charge against the Iunctio," Michel said, his arm snaking out to frame my shoulders at the back of the settee we were on. "He is still a Councillor, as are the Nemesis, Imposter and Diviner, who have all sided with him on this."
"What's his beef?" I asked, placing the mug of coffee on the table before us untouched. I must have eaten too much fried food, because the coffee wasn't as appealing once it made it to my lips.
"Revenge, pure and simple," Michel stated. "His thwarted joining with you. His diminished position of power on the Council because of it."
"None of which make sound political sense. Why would the other Councillors side with him?"
"They too have grievances, but you are correct. They have not sided with him, because of his own personal vendettas. He has convinced them my appointment was made under duress. The Champion was dying and I happened to be the closest vampyre for her to pass the title to at the time. If she had not passed on the mantle of Champion to someone, there would have been a vacuum of power in the Iunctio which may have been enough to destroy it completely. Everyone knows the former Champion was consumed with the desire to 'survive at all costs'."
If there was one thing to say about the former Champion, it was that. Her one and only goal in life had been the Nosferatu race. Survive at all costs was definitely her mantra. I could see how Avery would have come to the conclusion that she was blinded by the need to save her race on her death bed, so to speak. But I had been there and the Champion was lucid and in control of all her faculties when she handed her power over to Michel. She'd even said, that he had always been her favourite. I had suspected she had been grooming him for such an event. Not for one second did I believe the Champion hadn't thought it through before she faced her final death.
"The Champion never did anything without consideration," I said. "To say she acted in the heat of the moment is a cop-out. Anyone who knew the Champion, knew she was always two steps ahead of the rest. Hell," I said, getting on a roll, "she probably had an inkling that her time was due. I wouldn't put it past her to have engineered the entire event."
Kiss of the Dragon Page 26