by Amber Kallyn
And the Council would blame him, and his clan.
Jordan refused to allow such a thing to come to pass.
His frenzy slowed. Though it went against everything he was, he would wait. He had too many to protect not to.
Against every instinct, he turned his back to the forest and led his men toward town. Near the outskirts, he jumped straight up, branch to branch, until reaching the top of a tall pine. Staring out over the town, he searched the shadows for any hint of the outsiders. Brandon jumped to his branch, matching Jordan’s stance.
“Do you feel your brother?” Jordan asked.
Brandon sniffed the air, eyes closed. “No.”
The light, almost inaudible sounds of the other vampires in the search party drifted up from the ground far below.
“I must speak,” Brandon said, gazing out over Moss Creek.
“Then do so.”
“The woman. She is... other.”
Jordan asked his guard, “So I’ve been told. Why do you say so?”
“She is newly turned, and yet, her power is strong. When I carried her to her room, she forced me out merely by the power of her command.”
Jordan had felt her magic, but it hadn’t seemed nearly that strong. Then again, for a Master like himself, perhaps he’d been unable to truly feel the extent of her power.
“I worry, sire,” Brandon said tonelessly.
“She has no control over me.”
“Are you certain?”
Jordan wanted to say no, but his guard’s words made him think. If Dalia was the traitor, losing her memories was a false claim. If she was more than human, other as Brandon and Niki claimed, perhaps her power was why he desired her so badly.
He needed to think on this.
“Let us find Eric. We will speak later.”
Brandon nodded and jumped from the branch. Jordan pushed the image of Dalia’s tear stained face, and all the innocence it implied, from his mind. He had his duty. Right now, it was not her.
He flew through the air, landing lightly on the leaf-strewn ground.
They followed the breeze, hoping to catch a hint of Eric’s scent. Ten minutes later, Jordan stopped short.
It was not Eric he smelled, but the flowery jasmine of his sister’s perfume. What was Fionah doing in town? He’d expressly forbidden her from leaving the castle.
The scent was quickly lost, overridden by that of wet dog fur. Jordan turned, facing the nearest alley as dark shapes flowed out and into the deserted street. The men at his back lined up, facing the wolves.
The approaching wolves growled, blue eyes flashing.
“We are on neutral territory,” Jordan called. “Why do you dare approach us thusly?”
A wolf in human shape followed the beasts. Seth. “There is no neutral place. Not when you protect one who has killed, tortured our pack, and is still kidnapping our wolves.”
Some in the pack barked sharply, others growled, eyeing Jordan’s men.
“That has been settled until the trial.”
“Not to our satisfaction.”
The wolves were itching for a fight. Well, so was he. If they wanted to accommodate him, all the better. Jordan laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I suggest you leave. Now.”
Seth stepped forward. “I don’t think so.”
“So be it,” Jordan said softly, belaying his rush of fury. He would put these mutts in their place.
Seth snapped, his mouth stretching wide, jaw deforming as he began the shift. Wolves bayed and raced forward. Energy and the hunger for a fight flowed through Jordan’s blood. He was going to enjoy this.
He shouted his clan’s battle cry as his vision strengthened and his fangs extended. He barreled into the wolves with claws and teeth.
His men repeated his cry as they clashed with the oncoming beasts.
A wolf leapt at him and he caught it effortlessly, grabbing the ruff of its neck and sinking his teeth in. Wolf blood flowed into his mouth. Power rushed through him.
He threw the wolf to the street and spun, unleashing his magic on those nearby. They yelped, one howled, but they all dropped to the ground.
Beside him, Brandon wielded his axe. His other men used swords, daggers, teeth and claws.
They were winning. The wolves didn’t have a chance. Jordan grabbed another one, lifting it and burying his teeth into its vulnerable throat, relishing the hot, salty blood, full of magic, as he drank deep.
“Stop!” The shouted command was filled with power. Most froze, unable to move.
Jordan dropped the wolf and turned, facing Shane.
The man’s gold eyes glowed as he took in the scene of the fight and Jordan knew he was looking at the territorial Keeper, not his friend.
“You dare bring this into my town?” Shane demanded.
“I suggest you take it up with the mutts,” Jordan replied easily. “They came upon us, not the other way around.”
Shane gazed over the group, singling out one wolf. “Shift.” His words were full of powerful magic.
The wolf howled as it was forced into the change, until Seth lay shivering and naked on the street.
Shane advanced. “Explain yourself.”
Seth got to all fours, head hanging as if he still thought he was in wolf form. Then he shook himself like a wet dog and pushed to his feet. “They harbor the traitor taking our wolves.”
Shane nearly growled. “If you speak of the woman, I have settled that matter until her trial.”
A few wolves growled, but still couldn’t move.
“The matter is not settled. Two more have disappeared this day. The vampires must pay.”
Jordan stepped forward. Seth glanced at him, furious. “Neither I, nor any of my clan, have anything to do with taking your wolves. We don’t need... pets. Besides, I have vampires missing as well.”
Shane sighed and waved at the group, freeing them to move. “Go home. All of you.”
Jordan raised a brow, Seth started to argue.
“Now. I will visit you both and get the information I require to find your people.” Shane glared at Seth. “Tell your alpha that if there are any more attacks in town from your pack, against anyone, I will hold him responsible and he will lose council protection.”
Jordan grinned at that. No protection meant no recourse if he pushed them out of his territory.
Shane glared at him as if reading his mind. “You too.”
“Eric is missing. I will not just leave it alone.”
“Go home. Trust me to do my job.”
But Jordan couldn’t. Rather than arguing, he smiled pleasantly. “Fine.”
As the two groups separated, the wolves carrying their wounded, Jordan’s men walking on their own, Shane called out, “I am putting up wards. I will know when anyone, pack or clan, enters town. You will be powerless next time.”
Jordan whirled, ready to growl at the powerful shaman who could use the blood ties of the clan to do exactly as he claimed.
Shane merely smiled politely. “I will take care of this and find the missing.”
“I will not leave my people any longer. You need my help.”
“Then search outside town where innocents will not be harmed. You know the laws.”
Jordan blinked at the reprimand before turning and striding away, body stiff with anger. He would get around it. He had to.
* * *
Dalia woke the next night to a tray of food, along with a large cup of warmed blood, sitting right inside her door. After she ate, she paced the room restlessly. No one had come to see her, speak with her.
It hurt knowing they all thought her guilty, especially Jordan.
And she didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if they even knew each other. Lust was one thing—it didn’t affect feelings. So why did she feel such an ache in her chest from his reaction?
A commotion rose outside and she hurried to her window. In the driveway below, a black hummer had stopped. People cried out, running into the castle.
The door of the Hummer opened and a tall man stepped out. He wore black, from his clothes to the duster sweeping the ground.
His long blond hair was pulled back in a pony tail. When he turned his head, Dalia saw the silver hilt of the sword on his back.
As if sensing her gaze, he glanced up, directly at her. The man looked a lot like Jordan, except his eyes were cold, emotionless.
A whisper slid into her soul. “Come,” it said.
She shook her head at the stranger.
“Come. Now,” the whisper said.
Power filled her, prickling against her skin. As if a haze filled her mind, she turned from the window and headed for the door. She wanted to resist, tried hard, yet found herself walking into the hall.
“You can’t leave,” the guard said.
She glanced at him, and the power commanding her flared. She passed the guard, who silently fell in behind her.
They walked down the stairs and entered the long Judgment Hall. Inside, Jordan sat at the front of the room in his throne. The benches were nearly filled with vampires.
As the door closed behind her, the power faded. Shaky, frightened at how she’d been a puppet on a string, she slid into the nearly-empty back bench and glanced around, searching for the man who’d forced her to come.
“You know the rules,” Jordan was saying to a vampire kneeling in front of the throne. “We do not kill humans. The Council will not allow such things.”
“We are vampires. I only did what we were made for,” the kneeling man replied. He didn’t move, though Dalia could see him trying to struggle. She glanced at Jordan, realizing he was using magic to keep the man from fleeing.
But it hadn’t been him who called her down here.
“Jeremy, the past is the past.”
Jordan stood and held out his hand.
Brandon placed a long, curving sword in it. Before Dalia could register what was happening, Jordan swung the sword and decapitated the kneeling man. His body thumped to the wooden floor, then crumbled into ash.
Jordan stared out at the crowd, his eyes blazing a dark red. “Remember the rules. We live in the now, and we do not kill humans. Drink them, fine. But not to the death. No one wants the Council to decide our fate.”
He handed the sword back to his Viking guard. Before he could sit down, the doors beside Dalia slammed open and the man from outside strode in.
The air hummed with power, magic crawling like ants over her skin. The man stopped, his gaze running over the crowd. He glanced at her, before striding up the isle between benches.
The crowd grew so quiet, the man’s soft steps sounded like gun shots.
Jordan growled. “You interrupt.”
“You called me. Here I am,” the man replied.
The two reached each other and Jordan smiled. They clasped one another’s forearms and gave a half-way hug, slapping the other’s back.
Dalia shook as the man’s power flowed over her again. She dug her nails into her palms, trying to resist the siren call to stand up.
Jordan glanced out at the vampires in the room. “Leave us.”
Everyone stood and began to file out, shooting her heated glares as they noticed her.
She would have gladly left with them, but now the magic in the air was pressing her to stay.
A door at the front of the room, near the throne, opened and Jordan’s sister came out. She spotted the stranger, shrieked happily and raced forward to embrace him in a hug.
Dalia sat stunned as the man laughed, hugging her back. He lifted her feet from the floor and spun her around once.
“Ah, my little Fionah. How is my prettiest female cousin?” he asked, his Scottish brogue even more pronounced than Jordan’s and Fionah’s.
“I’m the only female cousin you have,” she replied with a grin. “But I am well.” Fionah stepped back, looking him up and down, then nodding. “As are you.” She headed for Jordan’s side and linked arms with her brother, leaning against him.
“Mostly.” The stranger turned, his gaze piercing Dalia. “Come.”
His power hit so hard her teeth snapped together. She pushed her nails deeper against her palms.
“I’d rather not.”
The stranger raised a brow and his magic grew painfully strong.
“No,” Dalia shouted, gritting her teeth against the pain.
Suddenly, it all stopped. The stranger strode down the aisle, staring at her with an unreadable look on his face. He stopped at her bench.
Then he held out his hand. “Come, please.”
This time, there was no power trying to command her, only his spoken word. She glanced to the front of the room. Jordan nodded.
With a sigh, Dalia stood and, ignoring the man’s hand, walked up the aisle.
Dalia reached the front row and stopped.
The stranger stepped around to face her. “I am Connor Gregory, a Council appointed Judge for your coming trial.”
She stared at the rough looking man. “I don’t know what that means.” Jordan had barely explained it.
Connor raised a brow. “Do you realize your very life is at stake here?”
“Sure.” Of course she did. She wasn’t an idiot. But if she concentrated on that, and the fact that everyone thought her guilty, she’d melt into a blubbering mess.
“As Judge, I will be one of three who decide your fate,” Connor said, staring at her strangely.
She couldn’t read his expression. “I get it.”
“Good.” He turned to Jordan. “Can we speak?”
Jordan nodded, waving Dalia to the left bench.
When she didn’t move, his jaw tensed. “Sit, please.”
She shrugged and sat down as the two men left the room by a small door on the back wall.
Then she glanced at Fionah. The woman’s gaze was hot enough to burn Dalia alive.
Chapter Eight
In the receiving room, Jordan knelt and built up the fire to take the chill off. Connor strode around, looking at everything.
“Not much changes, eh?”
“Why would it? I enjoy the comforts that remind me of home, as does Fionah.” Jordan moved to his side, staring down at the miniature paintings of his parents and dead siblings. They were so old, they were faded and worn. Nearly unrecognizable.
Connor leaned closer. “Dalia’s cute.”
Jordan bared his teeth at the appreciation in his cousin’s voice.
“Ah, like that is it? I thought so.”
Hands fisted by his sides, Jordan answered, “Nay. It can not be. Especially not until I know the complete truth about her.”
“You realize she’s not fully human?”
Startled, he glanced at Connor. “How do you know?”
“In the last eight hundred years, since my magic proved powerful enough for me to become a Judge, do you know how many have been able to resist my call?”
“Nay.” Dalia had resisted his, and he was her sire.
“It’s in the single digits. But that slip of a woman, a fledgling no less, managed to fight me. She would have won if I hadn’t let it go.”
“It is a mark against her,” Jordan replied.
“How so?”
“Her being more would explain why Thomas would have fed her his blood, hoping to control her.”
Connor rubbed his neck. “Doesn’t automatically mean she worked with him.”
Jordan shrugged.
“You’re thinking of Moira.” When Jordan didn’t reply, Connor continued. “You like this Dalia. Feel for her. Your heart hasn’t opened since our clan was attacked a millennium ago, has it?”
Jordan still didn’t respond, not wanting to admit the horror of his fiancé’s betrayal and the loss it brought.
“Even after all these years, I have never found proof of her culpability,” Connor stated matter-of-factly.
Jordan sat straighter in his chair. “Fionah saw it afterward. We all heard Moira’s laughter during the slaughter.”
Connor steepled his
hands in front of his chest. “Fionah’s sight wasn’t as clear or reliable back then.”
There was a tone in his voice that caught Jordan’s attention. “What are you not saying?”
Connor opened his mouth, then closed it. “Nothing. Why don’t you bring the woman in. She needs to know what’s going to occur.”
Jordan wanted to push, but his cousin could be stubborn beyond belief. He strode to the door and stepped into the judgment hall.
Dalia sat on the front, left bench. Fionah stood by the throne chair. The two glared at each other over the short distance.
Jordan cleared his throat and the women’s gazes snapped to him. “Come.”
He led his sister and Dalia into the receiving chamber. They sat near the slowly growing flames in the fire place. Dalia glanced around the room, wringing her hands together, not meeting his gaze.
He wanted to speak with her privately, but that wasn’t an option. Not right now.
Connor cleared his throat. “The trial will begin tomorrow night. The territory’s Keeper has offered us the courthouse as neutral territory.”
Jordan snorted, recalling the wolves’ opinion of neutrality. When Connor looked over, Jordan waved him to continue.
“Dalia, I am impartial. Being a vampire does not put me in your court. Understand?”
She nodded, finally meeting Jordan’s gaze. He realized she wasn’t scared or nervous. Fury blazed from her red-ringed, green-blue eyes.
Fionah tugged his hand. He glanced at her and caught her anger, cautioning him to remember the past. To not give in to his emotions without knowing for sure if Dalia was traitor or not.
Damn he was trying, but it was hard.
Connor continued, saying, “Our trials work much the same as mortals. The wolves will present their case, you will present yours.” To Jordan, he asked, “Who is representing her?”
It struck him like a punch to the gut he hadn’t even thought of it. Without hesitation, he said, “I will.”
Connor smirked.
Fionah’s grip tightened on his hand, her nails digging into his skin. He ignored it. If Dalia was innocent, she needed the best person to defend her. That was him.
If she was guilty...
Connor looked her over. “I can not hear your defense until the trial. But I will ask,” he glanced at Jordan, “Do you have one?”