6. Vasile
Chapter six
Vasile
Upon my return to the clan house, I am restless. I go to my rooms first, telling the few vampires who do approach me that I will speak with them tomorrow night.
It does not matter that I have left Deacon whole, that I know he is somewhere safe. He is still alone and injured, and as much as it hurts me to look at him, I truly wish to remain by his side.
It is an hour or so before I realise my ring is missing, and I search my rooms until the sun comes up. No luck. I must have lost it in the excitement of the evening. When it becomes apparent I will not fall asleep anytime soon, I go to my office. I pause when I reach the door, still struck by how different it feels not to have Rook and Saide standing there, silently waiting.
I shake my head and let myself into the room. The windows are shuttered at this time of day, as are all those aside from a handful near the entrance. I flick on a lamp and drop into my chair with a heavy sigh.
Despite everything that has happened, there are still daily tasks to attend to. Just because Tamesis is waging a slow war on us, it does not mean I can focus entirely on that matter.
I make my way through a plethora of emails, giving up only when my eyes start to sting because I’ve been staring at the screen for too long without blinking. Njáll and Elle are somewhere in the clan house—I received messages from both of them last night—but I do not want to disturb their rest to talk about what happened with the mage.
I drop my head forward, rubbing my temples with a sigh. If only I knew Tamesis as well as he believes I do, then I might know where to look for him. As it is, he could be anywhere, though I suspect he is somewhere within vampire territory.
Vampires are not all he has, though. Mages—That is not a surprise, not after last month. Wolves? I am not certain. Most would instinctively fear him, and with good reason.
I cross to the cabinet in the corner and pour myself a wholly unnecessary drink. I could ask Jamal to join me. He would be better company than another vampire; he knows when to push for information and when to leave things be.
He has none of the history of a vampire. It makes him safe to talk to in a way another of my kind can never be.
Still, I dismiss the thought quickly. Most donors rest during the day, keeping the same hours as vampires. Only our other human volunteers—guards and cleaners and people who help run businesses that need a daylight presence—spend their days awake.
I drop back into my chair and take a sip of my drink. Tamesis will stop at nothing to get back at me. What am I going to do about it?
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, then drop it carelessly on my desk when I see the name on the screen.
Deacon.
I throw back the rest of my drink. I cannot deal with him right now. I turn my phone over and push it aside. Lucien will call me if anything is truly wrong.
I go back to staring at my computer again, my phone buzzing incessantly. Every time it stops, it begins again a few seconds later, and I rub my temples, the sound of it beginning to grate on my last nerve.
I snatch it up, not even glancing at the screen before I answer. “What is it?”
“Vasile.” Moreau’s voice brings me up short, and I shake my head.
“What—What’s happened?”
“You haven’t heard from Deacon?”
I think of the calls I’ve been ignoring and pull my phone away from my ear long enough to see that he’s tried five times. “I, uh—No.”
“Nathan is dead.”
My heart stops for a moment. “What?”
“You heard me.” Moreau sighs, his voice softening. “Deacon found his body outside Kieran’s building. I take it Lucien was inside?”
“Yes, he would be. You can’t think—”
“No. We both know who did this.”
Tamesis. Somehow, it has to be him.
“Vasile, that’s not all. The Council think it was you. And they’ve ousted me from my position. Helene’s in charge now.”
I leap to my feet, my grip on my phone so tight that the casing cracks. “What are you talking about? They can’t possibly think that’s a good idea!”
The fact that they believe I killed Nathan is hardly a surprise. I am certain there will be evidence, too, pointing to my involvement. I can weather that. But it will be easier with Moreau in his rightful place.
Moreau sighs down the line. He sounds tired. “It’s been a long time coming, Vas,” he says quietly. “They only gave me this position because they thought it’d limit what I could do with the Hunt. Now they’ve realised that it hasn’t worked… Helene’s been pushing for my role for at least the last decade. She doesn’t trust my impartiality when it comes to you.”
“I don’t trust hers.”
“Yeah, that’s smart.” Something creaks—the leather of a chair—and I wonder if he is in his office, if they have removed him from even there already. “They’re all talking, though. Spreading rumours. None of the hunters are as old as we are, and they don’t know what happened that night.”
“Only the three of us do.”
“Four of us,” Moreau corrects, and I frown.
I suppose I am the only one who knows all of it, in truth. Perhaps the fae who took Moreau from the scene and returned him, healed and whole, four weeks later. I only asked who the fae was once.
In return, Moreau asked me when I would go and fetch Deacon from his self-imposed exile.
Neither of us answered the questions we posed one another.
“What do they plan to do?”
“They’re coming to the clan after sunset. I think they’d come earlier, but even the hunters can’t move you during the day without risk, and between arresting you and the change in my position, they’re being cautious. So you’ve got a few hours.”
“To get my affairs in order?”
“To get the fuck out , Vasile.”
I blink in surprise. “You should not—”
“I’m still a hunter, sure, but I owe my loyalties to the Hunt, not to the Council. And the Huntsman wants you free. Besides, you think going with the Council will do anything other than make you a sitting duck? Sam was right—not even a particularly powerful mage could break through our wards, and Tamesis will have more than that.”
“What about the mages you took from Adelaide?”
“They’re not here,” Moreau says, and I wonder if this has also influenced the Council’s decision. “Sam wanted me to help them. We’re helping. They’re far away.”
“If I leave, the Council will be even more convinced of my guilt.”
“That’s a problem for later. You can’t stop Tamesis if you’re dead, Vasile. You know that.”
Yes. Yes, I do know that—that’s the problem. I let out another sigh. “Yes. You’re right.”
Moreau huffs. “That happens sometimes, you know.”
For the first time all day, I manage a faint smile. It’s surprising that Moreau is the one to elicit it from me. I haven’t spoken with him properly since Jeremiah visited me and told me about Tamesis.
I open my mouth to ask him about that, but before I can form the words, I realise there’s no point. If he’d wanted to tell me, he would have.
“Call me if you need anything,” he says, and I only manage to make a sound in agreement before he ends the call.
I stare at my phone. I could call Deacon back and assure him that I am fine, that I know what has happened.
But I have my own duties to attend to first.
I call Njáll and ask him to come to my office, thinking over where I could go while I wait. My chieftains’ districts are out of the question. They are the first place the hunters will look. Likewise for any less savoury or unofficial supernatural haunts. I will be found quickly, and I am not willing to fight my way out of a situation.
I do not wish to leave the city, either. The clans outside our borders are very different, and I would not be assured entirely safe passage even in those Tamesis has not infiltrated. Besides, he is here somewhere. I know it.
Njáll raps lightly on the door before he slips into my office, frowning at whatever look is on my face. “Is all well, crai?”
“No.”
He closes the door and sits when I motion to one of the chairs opposite my desk. I do my best to explain what has happened succinctly—in truth, it is not difficult, considering the sparse details I have—and by the time I am finished, Njáll is red in the face.
“We should’ve killed him when we had the chance.”
I raise an eyebrow, and he shakes his head.
“Nathan,” he clarifies. “Fuck handing him over to the Council—”
“We did what we had to in order to ensure the treaty remained intact,” I reply, though it is not as if I can blame him for his guilt. I carry that same burden, whether I should or not. “It does not matter. What is done is done. Now we have to decide what to do next.”
Njáll stares at me for a long moment. I know he thinks I blame him for what happened with Tristan and Adelaide. My anger was never about that.
I need him to be above reproach in a way I never could be. So that, when the time comes, he can take my position without objection.
I don’t think Tamesis targeted Tristan because of Njáll—I think it was much more likely that Adelaide saw an easy connection to exploit in Tristan and William’s relationship—but the coincidence unsettles me all the same.
“What do you think I should do?” I ask.
Njáll shakes his head. “I hate to agree with Moreau,” he says, “but he’s right. There’s nothing you can do if you’re locked up by the Council.”
I nod, waiting for his reasoning.
“Tamesis is ultimately after you. After what happened—” His face twists in sympathy. There may be practically no hunters who were alive when I killed Tamesis, and very few wolves, but there are more vampires than I’d like.
We’re terrible gossips, too. My clan has never been without the knowledge of who I used to be.
“He’ll have to change his plans. He expects you to hand yourself over.”
I frown at him. “How so?”
“The treaty dictates it. We follow the treaty.”
“And if I don’t, I put that in jeopardy.”
“Tamesis is putting us all in jeopardy, crai,” Njáll says. “We can deal with the treaty when we’re finished with him.”
He’s not wrong, though I don’t like how vulnerable it will leave my clan in the meantime. Njáll stares at me as though he can follow my train of thought perfectly. “It won’t be forever.”
“What if he wants me to do this? To go into hiding?”
“I think he does,” Njáll says, bringing me up short. “But he doesn’t expect you to.”
“I don’t understand.”
Njáll sighs, leaning forward in his chair. “I remember when you first came to this island,” he says. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You were not the person you are now.”
“None of us are.”
“And none of us are tame either, Vasile,” he says. “No matter how much we try to seem that way. But that’s what Tamesis is counting on. That we’re soft and vulnerable because we’ve decided to co-exist instead of fight to the top of the food chain.”
I scoff. “We were never there.”
“You were. He was.” Njáll crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s what he wants to bring out in you again.”
My throat is dry and my voice creaks when I say, “That is not who I wish to be.”
“I know.” Njáll’s smile is faint. He is almost as old as I am. My position as crai was guaranteed after the other vampires found out I had killed Tamesis, and Njáll was the first chieftain I appointed because he doubted me.
Because he has always known how dangerous I really am.
“But it’s difficult to change who we are,” Njáll continues. “And I think we all need to remember the creatures we used to be if we’re going to beat him.”
I fight the urge to run my hands through my hair, to fidget where I sit. Njáll is not wrong. Tamesis will fight, in the end, but before that, he wants to show that I am weak, that my vampires are weak.
We are not. We have been many things but never that.
“I’ll have to stay with the wolves,” I say. “It’s the only place the Council won’t look for me.”
Njáll snorts softly. “They’ll look for you there,” he replies. “But, and I hate to say it, there is one pack that’ll never let them in.”
I really don’t want to involve them in this, but I find myself dialling Kieran’s number all the same. I put my phone on speaker, then drop it on my desk, and he picks up on the second ring.
“Vasile? You’ve heard?”
“Yes.”
“What are you planning to do?”
“How is Lucien?”
My question makes him pause. I hear movement, and the voices in the background quiet. “He’ll be fine,” he says after a moment. “It was a… shock.”
An understatement.
“He told Deacon about what happened that night,” Kieran says. There’s an edge of pride in his voice. “He’ll be okay. They both will.”
“Thank you,” I reply. I am not certain whether I am thanking him for letting me know or for being there in the first place. I am in no doubt that Lucien is perfectly safe with his mate.
“So, the plan?”
“I will not surrender to the Council.”
Kieran’s hum is amused. “Yeah, figured not. Our wards should keep them out. Sam’s planning to juice them up later anyway. He’s worried about the mages.”
“I—I did not—”
“You’re coming here, right? I mean, you saw the spare flat we’ve got. Nothing fancy, but it should be a safe place for you for a bit.”
I cannot find the words. Yes, I was planning to ask, but for Kieran to offer so freely—
“Can you get here safely? Moreau called Deacon and said they’d probably come for you right after sunset. I don’t know if we can—”
“We can get him out,” Njáll interrupts. He’s speaking to Kieran but watching me, and there’s some mirth in his gaze. “There are exits even the Council do not know about.”
“Perfect,” Kieran says. “Are you coming, too? I’ll tell Sam to let you in the wards if you are.”
“No,” I say. “Njáll will be taking over my position for the time being.”
Njáll frowns at me, but I shake my head. He cannot have expected anything less.
“All right,” Kieran says. “Let us know if you need any help, then.”
“We will,” I reply.
Njáll leans forward. “Keep him safe, alpha.”
Kieran sucks in a little breath, and his next words are said with absolute conviction and sincerity. “I will.”