Chapter 20 The Girl
Chapter twenty
The Girl
Nicolai
Nicolai made his way around the crowded club, his eyes scanning the room as the overhead lights flickered on, signalling an end to the long night. One minute he had been running after the girl Niamh had told him to chase, and the next he was blinded by a flash of light and thrown down the stairs.
He felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him as he took in the sea of shocked faces.
A few even stopped to offer their concern as they left the club, before whispering amongst one another.
He was one of the strongest Lamiae to ever exist, one of the original Purebloods, and he had been thrown to the ground by an unknown Incantrix in front of dozens of people. An unknown Luciferus.
It was impossible. The last Luciferus had died over a century ago, his brother had killed her and she left no children to pass on her gifts to. Though he had never met Xander’s betrothed all those years ago, he knew what had happened on that terrible night.
Nicolai scratched his head as he tried to think, the throb at the back of his skull from his fall not helping.
He knew he should have fed earlier in the private room, but he’d gotten too busy with the…
entertainment. The bartender had offered him a glass of blood to help him heal, but he’d refused.
It was easier to think things through without the hazy euphoria of blood to blur his understanding, even if staying sober meant having a terrible headache.
He needed answers before they returned home. Who was that girl? Why had they not heard about a Luciferus existing? Why had she run away?
“She certainly showed you up, huh?”
Nicolai rolled his eyes at the gleeful smile on Niamh’s face. She stood beside him with ice wrapped in a towel and pressed it to the back of his head, easing the ache with delicate care whilst her smirk revelled in his embarrassment.
“Oh, piss off,” he said. “I just didn’t expect it, that’s all. She caught me off guard. You didn’t tell me she was a fucking Luciferus.”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t get a good look at the markings on her back other than the Incantrix moon cycle. But you saw the ones on her arms, right?”
Nicolai shook his head as he took a seat at the bar, finally accepting a drink from the bartender as he announced he was closing down.
He took a sip of the amber liquid, realising it was a strong whiskey that he was certain he hadn’t tasted in the last century.
With a smile, appreciating its ability to soothe his headache, he realised Mitchell had likely ordered it in for him and other older Lamiae, those who could remember what a real drink tasted like.
“She had Nocte brands, Nic,” Niamh said, interrupting his thoughts. “She bore Xander’s markings.”
Nicolai froze, his grip on the glass tightening. “You’re mistaken. Xander has never turned anyone, not ever.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He finished the rest of his drink and brought his gaze back to Mitchell.
He knew her. Mitchell was the owner of this club—he’d know everyone, of course, but it was more than that.
They had seen him getting cozy with the strange girl earlier in the night, and if Nicolai were a betting man, a habit he had begrudgingly given up a few decades ago after spending too much of his and Xander’s money, he’d wager that she was the same girl Mitchell had told him about earlier.
A friend who he often crossed lines with, one who partied with him and only him.
Sliding his empty glass to the bartender, he sauntered over to Mitchell who was saying goodbye to the last remaining customers.
“Who is she?” Nicolai asked.
Mitchell carried on talking to the people that were getting their coats, holding a finger to Nicolai to tell him not to interrupt. Nicolai sighed and waited for him to finish, his foot tapping against the floor impatiently.
Finally, Mitchell turned to him. “What can I do for you, Lord Nicolai?”
“Don’t start, I haven’t been called that in years. Just because my dickhead brother enjoyed making his descendents bow down to him doesn’t mean I want anyone to do the same to me.”
As Mitchell stiffened at the mention of his creator, Nicolai felt a pang of guilt at his reaction.
Mitchell was one of the many who had been turned by William without consent, and for years had been made to treat him as a godly figure to obey and fear.
He, along with several other descendants, had been taken in by Nicoali and Kadeem shortly after William’s demise.
Mitchell had seemed like a natural leader of the group they’d found, but the majority of William’s descendants had disappeared, spread across the globe as they discovered their new freedom without their master.
But it was clear Mitchell had feared William greatly and, judging from his response, perhaps still did.
The night Mitchell’s group had been found by Nicoali and Kadeem, they’d been terrified, assuming every Pureblood Lamia was the same.
Though he knew he ought to have mourned his brother, Nicolai thought it was a blessing when William was killed.
If Xander didn’t force himself to be such a good person, he knew he’d agree with him, too.
Mitchell had stayed with Nicolai for longer than the others, wanting to ensure he had learnt to curb his bloodlust and gain control of his Aeris powers.
He’d also been keen to meet the Lupus Court, wanting to make amends for the part he had played in the capture and imprisonment of Lupi for William’s organised fights.
He was a good man, one that Nicolai respected and got on with, but the two had lost touch after a while, until Nicolai had heard about Mitchell’s new club in Manchester.
He and Niamh had travelled up north to meet with Rafael, the mortal communicator between countries in the World Court and anticipated to be the next Prime Minister.
It just so happened that their meeting was only a short walk to Mitchell’s club, and so Nicolai had of course called ahead to make a reservation.
He had hoped for a nice evening, catching up with an old friend and enjoying the freedom that only blood parties could provide, but then that girl appeared.
“Who is the girl?” Nicolai pressed. “The Lamia Incantrix, the Luciferus, who is she?”
Mitchell shrugged as he fiddled with the sleeves of his white shirt. “I don’t know.”
“That’s bullshit, you know everyone that comes here. You know her, you know what she is, and I bet you knew she was Xander’s, too.”
Mitchell stared at him, his blue eyes full of cold fury. The Aeris markings on his pale arms flared with power. “She is not his. She does not belong to her creator. Just like I never belonged to William fucking Terrell.”
“Ah, so you do know her. What’s her name?”
Mitchell walked away, heading to the bar to help his staff clean up. Nicolai knew Mitchell was a loyal friend, and he would never betray anyone’s trust, not intentionally. But he couldn’t leave, not until he had more to go on. They needed a Luciferus, and if Mitchell was hiding one, he’d find her.
“What’s her name?” Nicolai asked again, a little more forcefully.
“I’m not telling you shit, Nic. The night’s over. So, respectfully, get the fuck out my club.”
“She told me her name was Addie,” Niamh said. “It might have been a fake name but I don’t think it was.”
Mitchell tensed, his eyes going wide. “I’d like both of you to leave,” he said, his voice shaking as he turned away from them and began furiously scrubbing the bar countertop. “Get out, now.”
Nicolai nodded, before waving his hands in intricate patterns and opening a portal gate to the World Court headquarters in London, tearing a hole through space itself. He apologised to Mitchell and thanked him for his hospitality, but he offered no reply, just waved him away.
Taking Niamh’s hand, Nicolai pulled her through the gate with him.
The dark red decor and hazy atmosphere of the club gave way to the walls of the old townhouse, the smell of liquor and blood replaced by the familiar scent of old books and coffee.
The sensation of portalling was akin to falling endlessly, yet it lasted only a breath.
It was something Nicolai had obviously grown used to, but it seemed Niamh still had not as she pressed a hand to her chest with a frown on her face.
“I promise it gets easier,” Nicolai said. “The feeling stays the same, as if you’ve moved too fast, but you get used to it.”
“So you keep saying.”
With a nod, he walked through the halls of the old townhouse, the portal snapping shut behind him with a smack of energy. Niamh followed him, their footsteps echoing off the polished wood floor filling the tense silence.
“You’re sure she said her name was Addie?” Nicolai asked.
“Yes. She didn’t want to tell me at first, but I don’t think she was lying. Why? Does the name mean anything?”
They rounded the corner to the meeting room where Edward sat with his feet on the table reading a newspaper, another headline about the Liberators on the front page.
He raised his head as Nicolai and Niamh walked in, his face splitting into a grin, and threw the newspaper to the side.
He rose from his chair, clearly ready to tease them, but stopped when he saw Nicolai’s stern expression.
“What’s happened? What have you done now, Nic? You haven’t trashed another club have you? For goodness sake, I’ve only just finished paying off the journalists from the last time—”
“Is he here?” Nicolai interrupted, nodding his head to Xander’s office.
Edward raised his eyebrows at him before giving a slow nod. “Of course. He’s been working all night again, I doubt he’s even left his desk since yesterday.”
“Good. Gather everyone, including Katie. We need a meeting.”
Xander