Chapter Thirteen

 

In the moment it took me to understand just how deep Batsheva's evil ran, Demetrius plowed ahead as if he hadn't just dropped a magical nuke in my lap.

“I helped her make a crystal of her very own.” He shook his head, tsking. “Foolish. She used it in secret to drain Yvette's magic while they fought.” Charlotte rumbled her unhappiness. Not that the vampire Queen was betrayed, I didn't think, but more so out of her inherent sense of fair play. “Batsheva defeated her, easy peasy lemon squeezy, then drained her dry. Slurp.”

Bile was the worst taste ever. I just wished I had control over its rise.

“Her crystal?” If I could get my hands on it... but no. Each one was keyed to the user. So no help there. But if I could somehow have mine brought to me, a whole bunch of new possibilities were available. That was, if it could break through the block from the powder. Though I had reason to believe that might be the case. After all, it allowed me access to my magic when I'd been magically smothered by the Brotherhood's sorcerous shields.

Demetrius giggled on the edge of hysteria, pointing at me. “No good to her as a blood sucker anymore,” he said. “You breathed it in.”

I could have done without that much information. Knowing something Batsheva used was inside me, devouring and blocking my power, made me want to turn my skin inside out and have a very, very hot shower.

“And the familial clan?” Charlotte prodded him. “They just accepted Batsheva?”

“Coerced,” he nodded, sadness pulling at his scar, a weepy cherub fallen too far for redemption. “So unhappy. But what could they do?”

Charlotte's hands shook as she clenched them into fists at her sides. “Disgusting.”

“You just described Batsheva,” I said. “And Celeste.”

“That one.” Demetrius was suddenly a snapping animal full of venom and hate. “That one will die slowly and painfully and I will laugh, ho ho.”

Creepy. But I just so happened to agree with the sentiment and, considering the ending my demon had planned for the woman, I didn't really have the right to judge.

“Demetrius, why the Brotherhood?” Not good at all. “What do they get out of this?”

“Power,” he said. “Control. Of course.”

Of course. Ding ding, Syd. If they owned Batsheva, it meant they now owned one of the two most powerful blood clans in the world. And knowing the new vampire Queen Batsheva’s ambitions, she'd soon be the only leader with control over the majority of the vampire nation.

Had to hand it to her. No matter how many times she tried and failed, she wasn't a quitter.

I had so many questions, but it turned out they had to wait. The sun had fully risen at last and as someone knocked on the sitting room door, Demetrius dashed for the bedroom and out of sight.

“Let him go,” I said to Charlotte as she turned to go after him. “He'll be back.”

I didn't argue with her when she gestured for me to stay put when she went to answer the knock. A tall, broad shouldered man with a coarse mop of dark hair and empty brown eyes towered over my bodywere, ignoring her after a quick sneer of disgust before fixing his ugliness on me.

“You will remain,” he grunted in a heavy accent sounding Austrian or German. Not like my German class helped much, but at least I recognized the harshness. With that he spun and slammed the door behind him.

Rude. But then again, I felt a little sleepy, like the sun shining in on me, the touch of a beam's heat driving my eyes to close—

Stop that. I jerked awake, annoyed to find I'd almost fallen asleep standing up.

Sorry, my vampire sent. I've never had this much control before. And I usually nap on and off during the day while the others keep you occupied.

No time to process that information, not at the sound of shouting outside my door and the dull thud of something or someone striking the heavy wood hard enough to crack it down the middle. The portal swung open, the big guard falling backward as Mom casually shoved him aside with a wall of magic and entered my prison like she owned the whole castle.

I resisted running to hug her, only because she wasn't alone. Margaret Applegate tromped in behind her, casting an annoyed look at the guard who slowly pulled himself to his feet.

“Manners,” she snapped. “Find some. Now get out.”

He did as he was told, the door closing though a jagged crack ran the width of it, vibrating along the break as it thudded closed.

I grinned at Mom. “That had to hurt.”

“I certainly hope so.” She embraced me, no concern for appearances, so I hugged her back and tried not to let my tears get the better of me. I'd always accused her of being a supernatural faucet, but I was at least as bad.

I was so happy to see her.

Margaret didn't share our emotion. She swung one fist against her leg over and over, black robe gaping open, tweed suit and pantyhose showing through. The hole in her right stocking must have caused her no end of irritation, the run reaching the top of her very sensible shoes.

Still, she was a witch and, so far, seemed to be on our side. So why was she looking at me like I was something unpleasant she had to take out to the trash?

“Well, my girlio, you've put me in a pickle of a spot.”

She called me what? “Coven leader.” Oops. I really, really didn't mean to be so cold in correcting her. But years spent watching Mom manage our family and those who came against us kicked in out of habit.

Mom went rigid next to me. “Manners,” she said in her most imperious tone. “Find some.”

I'd never thought of my mother as having a temper. She always played things so cool. Yes, if she was pushed, she was a banshee from the deepest bowls of Scaryland, but normally she preached politics and diplomacy.

Which meant Margaret was already pissing her off and this was a last straw situation.

Good to know the older woman didn't have my back after all.

Margaret's eyes narrowed, but she nodded abruptly. “Coven leader,” she said in a voice of blades. “Maybe you can tell me what I'm supposed to do about this mess you've dropped on my doorstep?”

Um, hello. “Excuse me,” I snapped. “Where exactly in any of this did you decide I was at fault?”

Margaret's thumping fist came to a sudden stop. “I don't know how you Americans do things,” she shot back, “but in my territory we abide by treaties and laws and don't butt into the business of other races.” She snorted. “And we like it that way.”

Oh, no she did not. “Right. So you'd rather ignore what's going on under your nose in favor of tra-la-laing along. Like them invading our territory to kidnap me. How nice.”

Mom's face was white, pinched as though she was thinking what I said out loud, but forced to hold it in for fear of exploding or destroying diplomatic channels. That was just fine. I'd long decided she was happy having me perform as her action hero, doing her dirty work when she was unable to take steps. I'd add mouthpiece to my list of duties.

My pleasure.

“At least my territory is secure,” she snapped back, magic cracking around her. “And not a continuing disaster crashing into an apocalypse.”

Mom twitched, but I was faster. “I see.” I crossed my arms over my chest and smiled at Mom, though my humor was nowhere to be found, thanks. “So I guess that means you don't want to know what your particular brand of governing has allowed to happen. In your territory.”

Mom's eyes narrowed as Margaret spluttered.

“Whatever are you talking about?” I heard the girl at the end before Margaret caught herself. “Coven leader.”

I filled them both in on what Demetrius told me while Mom nodded slowly and Margaret grew redder and redder in the face.

“Can you trust him, Syd?” Mom's question was calm, reasonable. But her eyes were troubled.

“Yes,” I said, without a doubt. “Absolutely. He wants Batsheva dead, M—Council Leader. And he wants me to kill her.”

“All this Brotherhood nonsense.” Margaret dusted off the front of her robe as if doing so would erase what I just told her. “Nonsense.”

Mom fixed her with that same cold stare. “Like it or not, we will be going to war,” she said. “The Brotherhood will give us no choice. But we can either allow it to happen to us, or take matters into our own hands before it's too late.”

“And Demetrius hates the Brotherhood more than Batsheva,” I said. “So yes, Mom,” I was okay with the word, screw Margaret Applegate, “I trust him.”

The portly leader looked like she was ready to argue again, but when she finally exhaled a heavy breath, there was worry on her face. “I'll look into it,” she said.

Would have to do. Time to change the subject to one near and dear anyway.

“Tell me I'm going home?” Mom's eyes gave me the information I needed before she opened her mouth.

“Not yet, I'm afraid,” she said.

“Maybe never.” Margaret sank to a chair, ankles crossed as she scowled at the carpet. “The Queens are both adamant and, frankly, I'm on their side in this.” She met my gaze, not as openly hostile as she had been, but guarded nonetheless. “You do have vampire power. The source of their magic, if they are to be believed.” I nodded. That much was true. “They have the right to it.”

They don't, my vampire snapped.

“She begs to differ.” It was hard not to sigh and stomp my foot in frustration.

“I can't have a race war in my territory.” Margaret's hands clung together in her lap. “I won't have it, not over a witch who isn't even one of mine.”

“You may not have a choice.” Mom tapped her chin with one finger, the lines I'd started to notice on her face prominent as she frowned.

Of course. “This is the plan,” I said. “The Brotherhood's goal. They don't care who wins, who they recruit.”

Mom nodded, face smoothing out as she dropped her hand. “They just want a war.”

Margaret looked quite horrified as it sunk in at last. She pushed up, almost standing before falling back to her seat. “It's really happening,” she said. At least she was admitting it to herself.

“It is,” Mom said. “The Brotherhood isn't ready to move openly, but they've begun to undermine us. Stirring up trouble to deflect from what they are doing.”

I reached for her hand and squeezed it as Margaret finally gained her feet, a little, round thundercloud.

“The hell they will,” she said. Paused. “I'm almost done my term. So close, Miriam. And you had to bring this to me.” Sighed. “Well, I'm not leader for nothing, am I?”

Mom's smile lit her blue eyes, the only ageless part of her. “I have every faith in you, Margaret.”

“Hrumph.” The older witch shook herself a little. “I suppose that means we need to find a way to save this daughter of yours.”

“Yes, please,” I said.

Margaret bobbed her head. “I'll alert my Enforcers,” she said. “Time to dig out the weeds in my garden. And in the meantime, we'll work out some kind of solution. Hopefully one that doesn't start Armageddon.” She rolled her eyes, offered a wee little smile. “You do realize how hard this is going to be? Damned vampires. Never met such a bunch ready to kill each other at the slightest provocation.”

I grinned. “You haven't been to Demonicon,” I said.

She shuddered. “No,” she said. “And I have no wish to.” Margaret had gone back to being someone I kind of liked. She may have been a bit hide-bound, but she was stepping up.

Couldn't ask for more than that.

“We'll do our best, sweetheart.” Mom hugged me again.

“Let's just hope the solution we reach is one we can live with,” Margaret said. “Though I don't think you're going to end up with everything you want.”

There was a shocker.

Snort.

 

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