Chapter 8 - Ameera
8
AMEERA
I drift through the house in a daze, following the voices coming from the kitchen as I stare down at the envelope gripped in my hands. Dread sits like lead in my stomach as I contemplate what this might mean. The Mari Mae?tri tend to be hands off with the way they operate. Which is why this is the first message they’ve ever sent me and the first communication of any kind I’ve received from them since I moved to Unity on their behest to look into Lynch’s questionable behavior as Master and remove him from power if need be. Even when they contacted me to send me here, it was through a visit from my sire, who’s one of the Grand Masters, not an ominous black envelope with their seal on it. I reach the kitchen island and set the envelope on the granite countertop, then take a step back, eying it as if it’s a volatile snake ready to strike at the slightest provocation.
“Sire?” Samuel asks.
I tear my eyes from the wretched envelope to find him on the opposite side of the island, with Detective Selvaggio standing next to him. I didn’t even realize Dre was in the house. Both are looking at me with concern. I wave a hand at the envelope, and Samuel glances down at it and gasps.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asks, his voice hushed and his eyes wide.
I nod, unable to speak past my rising fear.
“What is it?” Dre asks as he stares at the envelope with a furrowed brow.
“It’s from the Mari Mae?tri,” Samuel says.
“The what?” Dre asks.
“Not a what,” I say, finding my voice again. “It’s a who. The council of Grand Master vampires who rule over us all.”
“Then I’m guessing from your reactions that this can’t mean anything good,” he replies as he nods toward the envelope.
“Not hardly,” I say as I finally work up the courage to approach the countertop.
I reach out with trembling hands and pick up the envelope, then break the seal and open it. I slip the piece of parchment tucked inside out and unfold it with care, then lay it on the counter and stare at the elegant script that was more than likely written with a quill pen dipped in ink. No one does old school quite like the Mari Mae?tri, except for maybe the Fae who’ve graced this earth even longer than the vampires. My Romanian is rusty, so it takes a few moments to get the gist of the letter. But when I do, it’s even worse than I thought it would be.
“Bloody hell,” I murmur as that heavy dread in my gut turns to actual terror now.
“What does it say?” Samuel asks, his voice tense.
“They’re questioning my sovereignty over Unity. It says my kill wasn’t clean when I took out the Twins.”
“Not clean?” Dre asks. “What does that mean?”
“It means I didn’t kill them on my own. That I had help.”
His eyes widen. “Anson.”
I nod, thinking back on how Anson and I worked together against the Twins. I thought nothing of it at the time, but what the Mari Mae?tri is saying is true. I did have help when I killed the Twins and they have every right to question my leadership because of it. The only permissible way to accept aid during a direct challenge to my leadership would be from a consort, a co-leading vampire I was in a committed romantic relationship with. Anson could’ve filled that role if he hadn’t been human the night I fought the Twins. Now though? I’m not sure what we are to each other or what to call him besides my progeny.
“How on earth do they even know about that?” Samuel asks. “None of us who were there would’ve told them.”
Dre nods in agreement.
“I have no idea,” I reply.
I agree with Samuel whole-heartedly. There’s no way Samuel, Dre, Harrison, Brianna, or Anson told another soul about that night. I trust them all, but somehow the Mari Mae?tri know anyway. I frown, wondering how in the bloody hell they found out, even if it doesn’t do me any good at the moment.
I let out a heavy sigh. “What’s done is done, and it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that they’re sending a representative to look into the matter and determine their next steps.”
“Next steps?” Dre asks. “Like remove you from power?”
“I imagine it will be something far more permanent than that if they rule against me,” I reply.
Dre’s eyes go wide. “That’s… harsh.”
“Vampire politics are rarely any other way,” Samuel adds with a frown.
“So, what are you going to do now?” Dre asks.
I look down at the parchment, feeling helpless. “About this?” I say. “Nothing.” I glance up to meet his gaze. The man trusts me enough to do that now, which pleases me. “But what I can do is continue to teach Anson how to survive as a vampire.”
I turn and walk away, leaving unsaid the rest of what I’m thinking, that it’s even more imperative he learns now, in case the Mari Mae?tri cuts my time to teach him short. I’m unsurprised when Samuel and Dre follow me downstairs to my daytime resting place. I expected as much and stop next to the mirror that hides the door to face them.
“I think it’s safe enough for you to see him again,” I tell Dre.
“That’s why I’m here,” he says. “And I’m hoping I can give him his phone back now.” He pulls Anson’s phone out of his pocket and holds it out toward me. “The texts I’m sending his sister aren’t enough anymore. She’s getting more and more upset that he’s not answering her calls, and she sounds downright frantic on the voicemails she’s been leaving. I’m worried about her. He needs to talk to her sooner than later.”
I cock my head to the side. “What about their father?” I ask. “He hasn’t told her anything?” I called Dre the night Allen Hale paid me a visit to tell him what happened, so he’s aware of the volatile situation between Anson and his father.
He frowns. “I don’t think he told her what happened to Anson, or she wouldn’t be so desperate to talk to her brother or keep demanding to know what’s going on.”
I’m not surprised Allen Hale didn’t tell his daughter what happened to Anson. From my brief interaction with the man, I gathered that he and his son are very much alike. I’m sure he kept the truth from Amber to protect her because that’s something Anson would do. I sigh and take the phone from Dre, not sure Anson is ready to talk to his sister, but Dre has gone above and beyond for me long enough.
“Stay close to Samuel and near the door,” I say before I place my hand on the mirror for the palm scanner to unlock the door.
I enter the room to find Anson sitting in the club chair in the far corner with an open book in his lap. He’s staring down at the page while running his fingertips over the paper, his expression devoid of any emotion. I step inside and move closer, noting the empty glass of blood on the nightstand. Good. It’s less of a risk for Dre if Anson has fed. I glance at the book he’s reading as I step farther into the room and realize he’s on the same page he was on when I left hours ago. I stifle a sigh. I’ve seen this before when Samuel was freshly turned. It’s easy for new vampires to fixate on everyday items, and get almost mesmerized by the minute details our heightened senses of touch and vision reveal that we couldn’t discern as ordinary humans. I’m concerned that Anson is falling into that obsessive fascination far more than Samuel ever did, but I don’t know what to do about it besides snapping him out of it when I see it happening.
“Anson?”
His fingers freeze on the page and he turns his head to look at me, his face still blank. It makes me ache for one of his smiles, or at the very least, for his eyes to light up when he sees me. Will I ever get that reaction from him again?
“I brought your phone,” I say as I hold it up. “I think you’ve progressed enough to have it back.”
He blinks a few times before speaking. “Put it on the nightstand,” he says, his voice monotone.
“Dre is here,” I add. “I think it’s safe for you to see him again.”
That gets a reaction out of him. His eyes brighten with a hint of eagerness that I haven’t been on the receiving end of since I turned him. I ignore the painful tightening in my chest at that realization, refusing to dwell on it or what it means for our future together. Instead, I turn back toward the door and beckon Samuel and Dre to come in.
Dre enters with Samuel at his back and smiles at Anson. “Hey,” he says. “It’s good to see you, brother.”
Anson stares at Dre for a long moment, his eyes darkening for a moment before returning to their normal pale blue. Good. He’s controlling his bloodlust better than I expected this time.
“Dre,” he says with a nod, but there’s no hint of any emotion on his face. Then he rises to his feet and sets the book on the chair behind him before taking a few steps toward Dre. Samuel and I drift closer to the detective, just in case Anson loses control like he did the last time his friend visited him.
“Are you okay?” Dre asks with an uneasy expression as he eases back a step at his friend’s approach.
Anson snorts and a bitter edged smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, I’m great,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Never better. I lost my magic. I’ll never see the sun again. And I have to drink blood to stay alive. I’m about as okay as I can get.”
His eyes darken toward black again with the rise of his emotions, and I ready myself to step in and protect Dre. But instead of charging Dre, like he did last time the detective visited him, he closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. He stays that way for several long moments, his body trembling with effort, before he relaxes and opens his eyes again. It’s a relief to see that they’re blue once more and that he controlled his emotions with no aid from me.
Dre shrinks back a bit at Anson’s reaction. “I… I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Anson replies, his voice once again flat and emotionless as he shoots a sideways glance my way. “It’s probably best if you stay away from me from now on.”
Dre frowns. “We’re still friends. None of this has changed that,” he says as he sweeps a hand out. “At least not for me.”
“This changes everything,” Anson replies. “The man you knew is gone, and the sooner everyone who knew him figures that out, the better off they’ll be.”
“You can’t mean that,” Dre says with a scowl. “What about your sister? Your father? They need you.”
“No,” Anson says with a finality that disturbs me. “They don’t. Not anymore.”
I open my mouth to tell Anson just what I think of his idiotic plan to cut himself off from his family and friends, when a voice from the doorway behind me interrupts me.
“Mistress?” a polite male voice asks.
I whirl to find one of my vampire guards standing there and glare daggers at him. “What the bloody hell could be important enough to bother me with right now?”
He grimaces, but holds his ground despite my anger. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mistress. But Logan Rourke is at the gate, requesting an audience with you.”
“Excuse me?” I ask since I couldn’t possibly be hearing him right.
“Logan Rourke is at the gate with his enforcer, insisting he speak with you immediately, Mistress.”
I stand there and gape at him since I can’t imagine any reason for the Unity Pack Alpha to be here, let alone why he’d want to talk to me. The vampires and werewolves have no love for each other, so we usually stay out of each other’s way. I’ve never even met Logan Rourke since becoming Master of the City, let alone talked to him. This visit can’t mean anything good. Part of me is half tempted to turn him away, but if he’s here, then it must be for a good reason. It’s better to find out what it is instead of sticking my head in the sand and ignoring it.
“Bring them to my study,” I tell my guard.
“Yes, Mistress,” he says with a nod before walking away.
I turn back to Anson with a frown. “This discussion isn’t over,” I say as I point a finger at him. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Anson’s only reaction is to shrug before he wanders back toward the chair and his abandoned book. I stifle a sigh because I really don’t want to deal with the Unity Pack Alpha right now. Not when Anson is avoiding his emotions instead of accepting and dealing with them like I’ve been trying to teach him. He’ll never retain his humanity if he ignores my lessons and shuts them out completely. But for now, all I can do is put the problem on hold until I come back. I usher Dre and Samuel toward the door and follow them out of the room, letting the door swing closed on its own behind me in my haste to get this meeting over with.
We head upstairs and I stop to face Dre at the top of the steps. “Can you wait in the kitchen while I take care of this?” I ask him. “Then we can get back to Anson.”
“That’s fine,” he says, looking relieved. “That Rourke guy is pretty intense. I’m more than happy not to see him again.”
I tilt my head. “You know Logan Rourke?”
“Yeah,” he replies. “He helped with that Morrígan situation last year.”
Ah, yes. Anson told me about the Fae goddess that he and his friends defeated before she could be unleashed upon the earth. He didn’t mention Logan Rourke’s involvement, but it’s not like Anson went into great detail about how they defeated the Morrígan. All that mattered to me is that they succeeded, and that Anson survived the encounter.
“Make yourself at home,” I say.
He nods, and Samuel and I head for my study. We enter, and I take a seat at my desk with Samuel standing to my right.
“Do you know much about the Unity Pack Alpha?” Samuel asks while we wait for our guests.
“Not really,” I reply.
“Rumor has it he killed his own father to become Alpha.”
My eyebrows rise. “Really?” If that’s true, then I need to be on my guard with this werewolf. A man capable of that is capable of anything.
Samuel shrugs. “That’s what I’ve heard, anyway. It’s why nobody fucks with Logan Rourke unless they have a death wish.”
Before I can respond to that comment, two of my guards appear in the doorway. And following behind them is one of the biggest men I’ve ever seen in my life, which is saying something since I’m almost three hundred years old. Logan Rourke fills the doorway, all broad shoulders and bulging muscles as he ducks a bit to keep from hitting the top of his head on the door frame as he enters my study. His dark hair hangs in unruly waves well past his shoulders, his matching beard a bit unkempt and only adding to his untamed appearance. His eyes are a striking blue-green, and even though he’s wise enough not to meet my gaze, I’m unsettled by their intensity. Bloody hell, intimidating isn’t a strong enough word for what this werewolf is. Even his rugged good looks don’t detract from it.
Another man enters behind him, this one not anywhere near as large, but just as intense and intimidating in his own right. He’s a tad over six feet tall and built similarly to Anson with lean muscles and broad shoulders, but next to Logan Rourke, he looks downright minuscule. Who wouldn’t? He’s just as ruggedly handsome as Logan, his features sharper and more angular, but similar enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if they were related. His wavy hair is darker and shorter, as is his beard, and his vivid blue-green eyes lean more toward green than Logan’s.
Both men take in the room with shrewd gazes, their calm and easy postures belying the coiled beasts that reside inside them. I’ll need to keep my wits about me for this meeting. The last thing I need is to piss off the Unity Pack Alpha and ruin the longstanding and informal truce between our kinds in this city.
“Welcome to my home, Mr. Rourke,” I say, keeping my voice even, then wave a hand at the two leather chairs in front of my desk. “Please have a seat.”
He nods and strides forward with a grace a man his size shouldn’t possess, then lowers himself into one of the chairs. The other man steps forward to stand just behind Logan’s left shoulder, his arms crossed as he and Samuel eye each other with suspicion.
“I assume this isn’t a social call, given the surprise nature of your visit,” I say as I return my attention to Logan.
“You’re an astute woman, Miss Fatali,” Logan replies as he leans back in his chair, his voice a deep, rumbling baritone. He glances at Samuel with narrowed eyes.
“This is Samuel Kendrick,” I answer his silent question as I motion toward my progeny. “My most trusted adviser.” I glance at the other werewolf with an expectant expression.
“Grayson Rourke,” Logan says as he motions toward the other werewolf. “My enforcer.”
Ah, so they are related, and I suspect they’re siblings, given the similarities of their facial features.
“What can I do for you tonight, Mr. Rourke?” I ask as I rest my elbows on the desk and lace my fingers together.
Logan leans forward and mimics me with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. “I got an interesting visit from Allen Hale yesterday,” he says, then pauses to study me, but I remain calm despite the rising panic fluttering around in my mind. “He claims you’ve murdered his son, Anson Hale.”
I stiffen, unable to control my reaction this time. “That is a blatant lie,” I tell him, horrified and offended by the very notion that I’d harm Anson, let alone kill him.
Logan shrugs at my comment and continues. “He also claims you turned him into a vampire against his will.”
I stiffen again, but don’t respond this time because what he’s saying is true, even if it was an act of desperation and love.
“He wants to form an alliance between the Unity Coven and my pack to avenge his son, and I’m here to verify his claims for myself before I consider agreeing to anything.”
I lift my chin. “And how does he intend to accomplish that alliance? He has no authority over the coven.”
“Apparently, he does now,” Logan answers. “He was reinstated as head of the mage council after his son stepped down.” He cocks his head in a decidedly canine way. “Which seems far too perfectly timed, don’t you think? It could make someone wonder if Anson’s decision was coerced in some way.”
That does it. I surge to my feet, seething with righteous anger now as I slap my palms down on the desktop, my vision sharpening and my fangs extending with the rise of my emotions. Samuel stiffens next to me, scowling at the werewolves and ready to attack right along with me.
“How dare you suggest such a thing,” I say. “I love Anson. I would never do that to him. Not in a million fucking years.”
Grayson leans closer to his alpha. “Told ya,” he says with a smirk, his rasping voice oozing with a smug satisfaction that pisses me off even more.
“Told him what?” I demand, trembling as I fight the urge to leap across the desk and throttle the Unity Pack Enforcer for his impudence.
Logan shoots an irritated and quelling glare at Grayson before addressing me again. “My enforcer claims you and Anson are romantically involved, but I had my doubts. Especially considering one of your subjects is currently managing Anson’s club while he’s remained MIA for over a week.” He eyes me up and down. “But after your emotional reaction, I’m leaning toward believing Gray’s assessment of the situation.” He shrugs. “But I’m afraid I’m going to need a little more convincing before I do.”
“Such as?” I ask.
“I need to talk to Anson himself.”
“That’s easy enough,” I say. “Wait here.” Then I move around the desk and motion for Samuel to stay before striding out of the room.
I stalk to the steps and rush downstairs, still angry, but now I’m freaking out inside. As if getting a letter from the Mari Mae?tri wasn’t bad enough, now I have to deal with this. If the mages and werewolves move against me, it will be a bloodbath on both sides, and that’s the last thing I want.
I reach the mirror and use the palm scanner to unlock it, pulling the door open as I consider how I’m going to tell Anson what his father is up to without upsetting his already fragile control. I step inside, opening my mouth to say his name, then jolt to a stop when I realize the room is empty, and Anson is… gone.