Chapter 11
Ballard Blanchett sat at his desk, twirling the edges of his handlebar mustache. He had always been a rather odd fellow, one I had spoken with on many occasions. He sat on the council, speaking on behalf of all the covens in Kallistos and surrounding territories, possessing great stature within his community.
The relief I felt knowing Sloane belonged to his coven rather than some of the others I knew was insurmountable.
By all accounts, Ballard was a kind man. He had the inclination to fight for those who did not have a voice and oversaw his faction with unfailing grace. However, he was a stickler for the rules, keeping coven business private until he determined it necessary to share that information with the public.
Unfortunately for us, that also meant keeping his nose out of other factions’ affairs.
All we needed to do was convince him of the consequences toward all of Auria should we fail to obtain the information we needed. Surely, even he could see the merit in assisting.
“D’Arcy!” he boomed, standing immediately before reaching out and taking my hand between his calloused palms. “Good to see you, son. I looked for you at your uncle’s funeral, but must have missed you.”
“Ah, no. Actually, I was not in attendance.”
He pursed his lips, sorrow passing over his face. “I was incredibly saddened to hear about Calia’s passing. I had the privilege of meeting her several times, and she was an absolute delight.”
The familiar rush of guilt I felt at her name clawed at my chest, but there was no time to let it free. “Yes, she was,” I said, clearing my throat.
Ballard gestured toward the chairs in front of his desk as he sat down, which Sloane and I took. Jasper and Rowena made their way to the loveseat along the far wall of his office. His office was full of neutral tones, reflecting the nature from which the coven’s power was derived. The bookcases lining the walls behind him were the color of moss, and atop the shelves were a variety of tomes and knick-knacks that looked older than I was.
“How can I help you today?” he asked, picking up a pen and twirling it around his fingers. “Sloane said it was urgent. I assume it doesn’t revolve around coven affairs.”
“In a way, it is,” I began. Ballard sat up straighter, giving us his full attention. “I am not sure what all you know about the night my wife and uncle died,” I said slowly, scanning his face for any sign of recognition. When I found none, I continued. “The council’s fabricated tale of an ‘accidental tragedy’ is false.”
“I figured that was the case,” he huffed. “We are not known for our commitment to the truth.”
I nodded, stumbling through the events of that night. I told him about Calia and Renwick’s death. How my mother had planned to take my wife’s life long before we had wed to break the curse, and the information she revealed regarding the sorceress’s living descendant being the key. Each word caused me pain, yet I knew if we were to ever defeat my mother it was necessary discomfort. Ballard needed to know the full scope of the story.
Once I was done, the room fell silent. Ballard leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply. “Good gods,” he whispered. “That is horrible.”
I swallowed. “It is.”
“Where is your mother now?” he asked, his gaze darting to mine. In all my years of knowing him, I had never seen such a grave expression on his face.
“That is, in part, why we are here,” I said, restlessly tapping my finger against my leg. “We do not know. She disappeared the night of their deaths, fleeing into the night. She left no trace of her whereabouts.”
“You’re looking for a tracking spell.”
“Yes.”
Ballard clicked his pen three times before speaking. “And what else?”
I had to tread carefully. He would protect the covens and their secrets at all costs, especially from vampyres. But I needed to believe that even if Ballard did not fully trust me, he would trust Sloane.
“My mother inferred she was working with someone from the covens who gave her information about the descendant. I have done countless hours of research on our history with my father, so I know that if the answers we sought were recorded, we would have found them,” I said. “And while my mother can be fanatical at times, this was different. She was confident in her knowledge.”
Ballard furrowed his brows, sighing deeply. “Rion, you know I can’t?—”
“I am not asking for myself,” I began quickly, cutting him off before he could turn us away. “If you will not tell me, tell Sloane. She can safeguard the information, but there is a traitor amongst your ranks. You know Leonora as well as anyone. She is cunning and will stop at nothing to get what she wants.”
“What if she ran away because she knew she had failed? Surely you would’ve killed her if she’d stayed behind.”
“That would be a valid thought, were it not for the mercenaries she hired to track us down.”
Ballard’s eyes grew wide, glancing between the four of us. “She what?”
“When I mentioned to Jasper that I wanted to find her before she could cause any more trouble, he mentioned that he had a contact within the covens who may be able to persuade you to give us an audience.” I waved my hand in Sloane’s direction. “Last night, we met at Dymphna chapel, where we were attacked by a group of men who were hired to bring me to Leonora by any means necessary.”
“And how do you know it was her?”
He tensed as I reached into my pocket, releasing only when he noticed the envelope held between my pointer and middle finger. “This,” I said, tossing it on the desk.
Quickly, he grabbed the missive and scanned the contents once.
Twice.
Three times.
“Do I want to know how you obtained this?” he asked, arching his brow.
“Torture, obviously,” Jasper quipped from behind me, earning what I assumed was a slap to the back of the head by Rowena from the yelp of pain that followed.
“Right,” he said, handing the paper back to me before leaning back in his chair. “I should’ve known.”
Ballard’s decision was already written across his face. He wanted nothing to do with this, with us, just as I knew would happen. If we could not even persuade him to perform a tracking spell, our hope would die by nightfall.
I leaned forward in my chair. “You know I would not ask if it was not crucial?—”
“Rion,” he placated. “The covens do not involve themselves in the affairs of others, and even when we do, it is minimal. What you’re requesting is simply not done.”
“And what about the individual who supplied my mother with information?” I asked, lowering my voice.
“To implicate a member of any coven is a grave offense. I can assure you that I’ll look into the matter, but I cannot divulge the information I find.” To his credit, he at least had the decency to avert his eyes.
But I could not let this go, not when it was the only thing keeping me afloat. But it was more than that. I needed to learn what my mother would do with the information she was given. That in itself was more dangerous. “Ballard, I am not asking for the coven’s help for myself. To be perfectly frank, I do not give a shit about that. I am asking on behalf of Kallistos. You know my mother better than most. You have dealt with her time and time again, whether on council business or discussions regarding the curse. She is ruthless. She will not stop.”
The room fell silent, spiking my adrenaline to a near incomprehensible level. If he refused… Well, I did not want to think about the possibility. Based on his pensive expression, I was barely clinging to hope.
Only when he stopped the incessant twirling of his pen, did that hope wane.
“I’m very sorry, Rion, but I cannot afford to meddle or mediate on issues with other factions.” He hung his head as if genuinely burdened by his decision.
But I could not offer him the same sentiment.
I stood quickly, buttoning my suit jacket and holding out a hand to Sloane. Jasper and Rowena followed suit, moving behind me. “Thank you for your time,” I said, giving him a curt nod before turning to Sloane. “I will not fault you if you stay with your coven. If you feel that you are safe?—”
“I’m coming with you,” she said, tossing her braided hair over her shoulder. “Unlike some, I don’t shy away from helping others in need.”
“Sloane, you can’t be serious,” Ballard said, placing his hands on his desk. “Your home is here among your people, not alongside vampyres.”
Her eyes flitted over the man in front of her, utterly unimpressed. “This may be my home, but that doesn’t make it my prison. I’m free to make my own choices, and I choose to help those in need.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she quickly cut him off. “This is about so much more than inter-faction relationships. It’s about doing the right thing. I thought you, out of everybody, would realize that. Guess I was wrong.”
Without another word, she pushed past me and stormed out the door. Sweat beaded along Ballard’s temple as he stared at the open space where she once stood. “You know where to find me should you have a change of heart.”
The three of us exited quickly, finding Sloane standing just outside the office with crossed arms and fire burning in her gaze. “I can’t believe him,” she scoffed, leading the way from the quiet hallway lined with offices onto the balcony above a bustling atrium-styled lobby. “I’ll need to run to my apartment to pack a bag. It won’t take long.”
“We will go straight there, then,” I said, unable to stop myself from staring at the wonder surrounding us.
The dome-like ceiling was lined with glass. Vines of ivy wrapped around columns, reaching for the light. In the center stood a massive tree. Its low-hanging branches were laden with lilac-colored flowers which cascaded down in a waterfall of color. It occupied much of the open space, turning the city into an urban oasis. Vendors’ carts lined the outer walls, where people waited for lunch. The rich aroma of spices intertwined with the fragrance of flowers,, making my mouth water.
Even if this wonder was perpetuated by magic, I was not sure I had ever witnessed such natural beauty.
“Woah,” Jasper said, looking at our surroundings in wonder.
Sloane snapped her fingers in his face, bringing his attention back to her. “We’re not here to ogle the architecture and design.”
“Yes, well, that all turned to shit, so I’m going to take in the sights for a minute, seeing as it’ll probably be the only time,” he snapped back.
“It really is beautiful,” Rowena murmured with wide eyes.
“It is?—”
But the words died in my throats as I glimpsed a shock of auburn amongst a sea of bland colors in the crowd below, causing my heart to teeter precariously on the edge of stopping.
That hair, I would know it anywhere. I thought of it every waking moment, longing to run my fingers through it once more and let the scent of mint consume me.
Calia.