Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
I blink awake. I’m back in the bedroom. How embarrassing. I must have passed out. The doctor stands over me; it looks as if he’s finishing a full scan of my body. When he notices I’m awake, he shakes his head with obvious exasperation.
“You’re still not well, so stop running into battle without thinking. Fixing the mess you’ve made of yourself is still ongoing. Please stop making my job harder.”
I scowl at him.
He scowls back.
Yeah, fair enough. “I’m sorry,” I grumble as I sit up. “Have you seen my cat? And my friend, Story?” I’m officially a terrible pet parent and friend.
“The fat ginger one?”
I splutter. “He’s not fat. He’s super healthy.” Fat, I huff. The man is a bloody doctor, not a vet.
“Yes, your cat and the pixie are both safe and around here somewhere. I believe”—Dr Ross coughs into his fist to cover a laugh—“the cat peed on the sofa. Our resident angel was not amused. I think he’s already used two potion balls to clean up after him. You’re costing Xander a mini fortune.”
I cringe. Dexter is a stray; it’s not his fault he isn’t house trained. At least no one has said anything about Dex being a fae monster cat. I’ve been waiting for him to do something… but he’s a normal cat. Perhaps Story got it wrong?
“Is Freaky Frank still here?”
“Freaky Frank?” The doctor’s eyes narrow in confusion and then widen with realisation. “Oh, the shifter. Yes, he’s in the living room with a group of important people.”
My eyebrows rise. “Shit, how long was I out?” Oh, and great. The important people are here, I mentally scoff. “The vampires are here, aren’t they? The vampire council?”
Dr Ross takes a peek at his watch. “Yes, the vampire council and all the other councils are here.”
“All the councils? Here?” I squeak out.
When did the councils start making house calls? That bloody angel, he’s a curse. This has his big dirty fingerprints all over it. This is worse than I could have ever imagined. “Oh shit.” I groan and rub my forehead.
“Oh shit, indeed. You have the entire supernatural world wondering what to do with you.”
I’m not reassured, especially when I can see the concern in the doctor’s eyes. My tummy flips. Is today the day I am going to die? No, not without a fight.
“I’m not dead yet… so at least that is a positive thing.”
“No, you’re not dead yet. But you will be if you keep them waiting any longer. Hurry.” He taps his watch.
I scramble out of bed, taking a moment to plait my hair and shove the end down my top. I haven’t got a bobble to secure it, but it’s so long even if the first few inches unravel, the rest should stay in place—that’s if I don’t do anything too vigorous. You know, like fight for my life, run…
I take a deep breath, push back my shoulders, and lift my chin.
Grandad always used to say posture was important.
I adjust my clothes; I should have had a quick shower.
I keep catching whiffs of Xander’s scent on my skin; it makes my stomach clench.
I look like a total scuff bag, but it will have to do.
I’m ready as I can be. At least I haven’t got any of Freaky Frank’s blood on me. That has to be a bonus.
My hand shakes as I grab the doorknob. If they’re going to kill me ’cause of what I am, I might as well go down with a bit of dignity.
With that wonderful thought and the doctor at my back, I venture into the hallway. I pause to listen and then turn and make my way towards the sound of voices.
My eyes flick about as I clock the exits. The angel’s place is nice; it looks super modern and expensive. It’s next-level wealthy.
When I get to the massive living room, I freeze at the door.
With wide eyes, I look back at the doctor.
He’s standing behind me and doesn’t seem to be in any rush for me to enter.
I puff out a shaky breath, and with trepidation and my heart hammering in my ears, I blink like mad and force myself to concentrate.
Yeah, the undoubtedly beautiful living room is a tad crowded. The important people, I presume, are the ones sitting down. The fae, then the vampires, are on the left; the shifters are on the right, and an empty seat—my empty seat—is in the middle. Huh, that sounds like the chorus to a song.
Dotted around the room are a plethora of bodyguards split into shifters, vampires, and the fae.
The idiots are all focused on glaring at each other rather than watching the door.
I swallow nervously. Thinking about it, the guards are probably not idiots at all…
No other threat would be greater than the people in the room.
I peer down at my feet. I can’t. I can’t seem to make myself move any further. I can’t do it. I rock from foot to foot, and frightened tears fill my eyes until my vision is hazy. I don’t know if I can step into the room under my own steam.
Well, if you don’t, I’m sure they’ll drag you to that chair kicking and screaming and then any leverage you might have had will be lost.
Standing behind a chair is a dark-haired male witch—a rare sight. He’s the only one who spots me, and he gives me a friendly, almost encouraging nod. As he’s so polite, I nod back, and my lips twitch as I attempt a nervous fake smile.
My eyes drift back to the seated occupants.
Of course the seated bigwigs are arguing. What are they all doing here? My grandad made sure I had the truth about these powerful people. If they’re current members of the council, I should at least know who they are. Knowledge is power, after all.
From what I can gather in the short time as I stand in the doorway, they seem to agree that they can’t kill me.
Yay.
It sounds as if they won’t kill me, but they’re arguing about who will take ownership of me.
Yay.
The masculine power that buzzes the room cows me. How the hell can I fight against this? How can I protect myself?
I’ve never felt like such a floundering child.
I thought I was pretty fearless, but I was kidding myself.
I nervously swallow, and I blink the wet haze again from my eyes. I was playing, faking. I’ve been kidding myself this whole time, pretending I had some semblance of control when I’m just a throwaway cog in the creature machine.
The men in this room are on another level. It’s a strange feeling to know without a shadow of a doubt you’re completely out of your depth.
I smile sadly. Most of the time I’m confident bordering on cocky, and although I knew the councils would kill me if they got their hands on me, I never could imagine what that would look like.
I didn’t see this—a meeting in the angel’s living room. Watching through the door while the nightmare monsters that plague our world with their crushing power sit around arguing… while sipping tea.
I frown.
What would my grandad do? What would he say? It looks as if the monkeys at the top of the tree have come down to the ground where the ants live. It’s a right circus.
“Not my circus, not my monkeys,” I mouth his favourite saying.
When there is a break in the conversation, Xander, who has been watching me this entire time, waves me into the room. “Here she is, the child we’ve been talking about. Come on in and take a seat,” he says with a nod at the empty chair.
I keep my mouth shut and try not to grind my teeth as everyone’s eyes home in on me.
I have to squeeze my legs together to stop myself from peeing my pants.
Instead, I grab his words like a lifeline, and I also grab at the darkness and anger that is always present inside me.
Why he insists on calling me a child, I don’t know.
It makes my blood boil. For a few seconds, the anger washes my fear away.
A few seconds is all I need.
I gather my tattered courage, and with a dancer’s elegance, I strut across the room in my socks as if I’m a queen walking to her throne.
I settle on the edge of the seat, my hands in my lap and back ramrod straight. I shut my worries away, hide my fear deep inside myself, and deliberately ignore the little voice that is screaming inside me that these people are the leaders of our kind. I’ve seen them on television. This is surreal.
My lips pull into what I hope is a sweet, benign smile.
“So this is the girl who has caused so much trouble?” a man snarls in an irritating, posh voice. I turn my eyes in his direction. The guy is blond, dressed in an expensive fitted suit, and is Ken-doll creepy-looking.
Pureblood vampire.
He goes by the name of Lord Luther Gilbert—uh-huh, yep. Lord. He’s a pretentious prick. I remember him from my grandad’s files. I’ve seen a compilation of his greatest deeds. He’s a scumbag.
“You could have at least dressed her in something respectable, Xander. She looks like a thug off the street, a little boy instead of a…” He shakes his head. “Whatever the hell she is.”
As he talks, my top lip twitches into a snarl. I don’t like him. I’ve never liked him. I’ve seen him on the news attempting to encourage human blood donations. Thank God the humans are protected. They give enough, the horrible arsehole.
The other vampire, Atticus, is the head of the vampire guild and the vampire council.
He has a short, clipped-to-the-scalp, no-nonsense haircut, and his eyes are a solid black.
The man is the complete opposite of the vampire sat next to him; he doesn’t go out in public, and he certainly isn’t a TV vampire.
Apart from some basic information on what his job is, he’s an unknown…
a mystery. He scares the bejesus out of me.
Sat apart from everyone else, including the other shifters with only the male witch for backup, is a humongous man.
Even though he’s sitting down, he dwarfs the oversized chair and the other creatures around him.
Hands down, he is the biggest guy I have ever seen.
He just needs a sword to finish his look.
It takes a few seconds to recognise him.
The dragon shifter.
Wow. They call him the General, and he’s a total badass.