Chapter 7 Augustin #2
Alaric towers over me, his dark eyes aflame. Even for a vampire, he moves impossibly fast. At over 500 years old, Alaric’s ancient strength is potent, dangerous. And right now he’s glaring at me like I’m on the menu.
Gideon smirks over his glass. He knew, of course.
“Ah, yes. Your chair.” I rise with the casual ease of an aristocrat, even though inside I am a bundle of nerves. “I was just testing it for you, making certain no one had left their pet cactus behind upon its exalted cushion.”
I hover beside the fire while Alaric arranges his long limbs, the leather crackling with delight at his presence. The cat leaps onto his lap and circles before plopping down. She regards me with a look that’s almost as venomous as her companion’s.
Alaric is from a prominent family in the Nightshade Court – the vampire court of warriors.
Gideon is a disgraced son from the Midnight Court – the court of entertainment and fancies.
And I am our Dusk Court representative – the court of mages.
The three of us have been meeting in secret ever since Alaric incurred the wrath of the Conclave by declaring his intention to marry a mortal.
We want to force the Conclave to rewrite the vampire–human laws.
Our chance approaches. After Gideon had a falling out with the Conclave and Alyra was killed and Arabella attacked on Sanctus property, the Conclave – the council of elders from the three courts, who oversee the Upyr laws – have declared that they’re sending three delegates to check up on vampire affairs in Argleton.
These representatives – one from each court – will decide whether the ancient laws should be amended.
For them to even consider our suggestion, they first choose a champion among us to complete a series of three challenges, one set by each court.
Alaric strokes the cat until her purrs reverberate through the dim room. “My mother informs me that the three delegates have been chosen. They shall arrive within days.”
“Which officious bloodsuckers are they sending to judge us?” Gideon leans forward, drumming his fingers against his glass.
The Conclave kept the identity of the delegates secret from us until the last possible moment. They agreed to these talks only because of the support for Alaric and Winnie, and the number of vampires expressing interest in Sanctus, but they’ll give us every opportunity to fail.
“The Nightshade Court sends Kael Morrigan, of the Blood Morrigan.”
Oh.
Not a good start.
His challenge will absolutely involve bloodshed.
Gideon winces. “Couldn’t they send your mother instead? I’d feel safer.”
“The Lady of Agony will also be visiting.” Alaric’s voice is as sharp as the sword blades that decorate his hearth. “She wishes to enjoy the inevitable bloodbath that will ensue if I’m in the same room with that man.”
“Kael and Alaric have a longstanding feud,” Gideon explains to me. “And he hasn’t been a fan of mine since I beat him to a bloody pulp in an East London barfight.”
“You did nothing of the sort. It was I who picked you up before Kael could skewer you like a kebab.”
“And then you hurled me at him, knocking his sword from his hand!” Gideon grins. “I saved the day. I expect statues erected in my honour.”
“As long as you aren’t carving the statues. Let us not forget the sculpture garden incident.”
“Hey, my statue may have looked like a lesson on ‘How Not to Sculpt’ by someone recently separated from both their arms and their eyes, and it may have nearly cost me my testicles, but at least I finished it, unlike some people—”
Alaric and Gideon bicker good-naturedly while I sip my blood and silently panic.
Kael is even more ancient than Alaric. He’s a Celtic warlord famous for his love of old vampiric traditions, and a frequent guest at the Dusk Court when I used to live there, where he met with our conservative factions.
He had many clashes with my parents over matters of law.
He will not be sympathetic to Alaric’s love.
If he discovers the real reason I’m fighting for reform, he’ll slice me into so many pieces that not even superior vampire genetics will heal me.
“For the Midnight Court, the Empress of the Archives, Irene of the Blood Delassane.”
“Now I feel more confident.” Gideon sloshes more blood into his glass.
“She knows by heart every obscure book of Upyr lore. The Conclave believe they have the weight of history on their side, but Irene values intellectual investigation above all else. Her challenge will involve something bookish, and we can win her over with logic and scientific evidence.”
“Two areas of study you excel at,” Alaric says dryly.
“I’ll leave Irene and Kael’s challenges to you and Augie,” Gideon purrs. “Let Arabella and me take care of the parties. Who is our third representative?”
“The Dusk Court sends Dante di Sangro, of the Blood Medici.”
I start at the name.
Not him.
Anyone but him.
Dante di Sangro was born in Italy during the height of the Renaissance to a family of famed vintners.
He lived an idyllic life in the countryside until the vineyard was destroyed during a siege.
He was Kissed while defending his cellar, but although he embraced his new vampiric tastes, he never left his craft behind.
Dante became the Dusk Court’s blood sommelier, and a vintage bearing the di Sangro seal is considered one of the finest.
He’s also a rake, a liar, a user and a scoundrel.
I can’t do this.
I can’t beg Dante to listen to our case, no matter how much is at stake.
I cannot meet those mischievous mossy green eyes and not recoil with shame—
“Most excellent news.” Gideon leans forward. “I’m a huge fan. I wonder if di Sangro will agree to create a special Sanctus vintage. Perhaps a Dominican Friar blended with a peaty Railroad Worker… Oh, Arabella will be pleased—”
“We can’t have di Sangro.” My fingers dig into the flesh of my arm. All the anxieties I’ve fought to hide bubble against my skin. “You must use all your powers of persuasion and make them send someone else.”
“Why? Di Sangro is better than we could have hoped for.” Alaric frowns. “He’s spoken for reform. I predict he can be swayed.”
“You don’t know him as I do,” I snap.
Gideon raises an eyebrow. Alaric’s eyes fall meaningfully to his sword.
As fellow vampires, they don’t bother to ask what Dante di Sangro has over me. We’ve all lived long enough and been forced to make hard choices to survive. We all guard our secrets closely.
But they’re also counting on this Conclave visit to go well.
“We don’t want di Sangro on our side,” I hiss, knowing it’s pointless but desperate to convince them anyway. My feet carry me in short, sharp steps from one side of the hearth to the other and back again. “He’ll ruin everything. We have to go back to Dusk Court and say they must send someone else—”
“Di Sangro volunteered.” Alaric’s fingers twirl around the hilt on his sword. “Perhaps he is excited to see you.”
No. He wants to torture me.
This is worse than I feared.
“We all need this meeting to go well, Augie,” Gideon says gently. “Stop pacing, man. You’re making me dizzy. Pull up a chair. Have some more blood.”
“Just not that chair.” Alaric’s fingers curl around his sword as I reach for a tufted footstool. “That belongs to Mirabelle.”
Don’t start a fight with the stabby vampire lord when Hannah’s in his house. Remember what’s at stake.
The cat leaps onto the footstool, circles her lithe body twice, then flops down and starts licking her stomach. I see no other chair in the room, so I lean against the hearth, the heat doing nothing to cool the ice around my heart at the idea of seeing Dante di Sangro again.
If I were Komal, what would I do?
The thought comes unbidden. Komal, of course, has nothing to do with our plan. But I can’t help recalling her secretive little smirk whenever I present a zoning bill or public transport initiative she dislikes, as she immediately begins plotting creative ways to thwart me.
If I were Komal, I’d enthusiastically present another plan, and even if it was a complete dog’s breakfast (such as hosting an absurd variety show to plug the hole in the newspaper budget, to give a random example), she’d make it sound so fun and exciting that everyone would get swept up in her enthusiasm and ignore all sensible protests (usually coming from me).
The only thing is, I don’t think of brilliant ideas on the spur of the moment. I can’t even pull out a mediocre idea without careful consideration and several colour-coded charts.
I wish Komal were here.
Wait, why would I wish that?
My stomach gurgles in response.
Maybe I truly am sick.
“Don’t panic, Augie. We can find a way to turn your relationship with di Sangro to our advantage,” Gideon rubs his chin.
“Perhaps this is where Komal Ahuja comes in. That feisty little devil running against you could be just what we need. She can present the human side of the argument and convince di Sangro to vote for reform.”
No. No. Oh, no. I didn’t mean that kind of impulsive idea.
“This could work.” Alaric picks up his brush and dabs pastel pink paint on his canvas. “Komal is a human who knows we exist, and she’s not trying to marry any of us. She could show all three representatives that we can work with humans, instead of always hiding ourselves from them.”
“We can’t use Ms Ahuja like that.”
The anger sizzling hot in my veins startles me. I step away from the fire, but the heat doesn’t flee.
“We may have no choice,” Alaric says grimly, wiping his brush.
“You weren’t able to dissuade her from the mayoral race, which means we should use her and the Nevermore Coven to our advantage.
Provided, of course, they don’t go off on their own and start digging around into what doesn’t concern them.
A secret like yours in the hands of those women could doom us all. ”