Venators, page 15
The room was the size of a ballroom and extravagant. A crystal chandelier, heavily laden with sparkling gems, hung over a long table. Against the back wall was a cavernous stone fireplace that Grey could’ve walked straight into. And around the perimeter, chairs and loveseats had been arranged into several vignettes, placed carefully to encourage conversation.
At first glance, it appeared all council members were in attendance. Although some looked human, there was raw power coiled just beneath their skin that Grey could sense. He began identifying faces. In an overstuffed armchair sat Dimitri. The vampire had a lithe figure that, in and of itself, wasn’t intimidating, but his face was all angles and razor-sharp cheekbones framing harsh, glittering eyes. The danger was in those eyes. He watched the room as a cat watches a mouse—evaluating, calculating, planning. When his gaze settled on the three of them, Grey once again felt like prey. He swallowed.
Silen was easily recognizable thanks to his mane of shoulder-length red hair. He leaned against the fireplace, a looming presence in the room, due to not just his height but his girth—those shoulders would put bodybuilders to shame.
As their Venator presence was recognized, the council members either stood or turned to face them. The old man with the long white beard, Arwin, was nowhere to be seen.
With the attention of the room, Verida held out her arms, motioning to her right and her left. “I would like to present your two new Venators. Grey and Rune.”
Omri dipped his head in the most subtle of greetings. His posture was impeccable. He stood tall in a long silver robe that set off his inhumanly black skin and white hair. When he looked up, his eyes shone like glittering blue gems against ash.
Ambrose was the last to stand, and she did so with a certain lazy reluctance. She cocked her hip and rested her hand at the waist, making it quite clear that she didn’t feel their presence warranted a formal greeting. The fae’s skin was pale green, her hair raven black, and emerald-green dots formed a mask around her eyes like a spray of freckles.
Seeing Omri and Ambrose in contrast, Grey now understood what Tate meant when he’d said they would be able to tell elf from faery in person. Omri, the elf, had a dignity about him that practically rolled across the room, whereas Ambrose reeked of mischief.
From behind Grey, Tashara spoke. “Shax, darling, I know you’re distracted, but you might want to pay attention.”
Shax looked up from the serving girl he’d pinned in the corner. His gaze roved over Rune and froze, desire heavy in his eyes.
Shax wore a skintight pair of dark pants, a bright-blue vest, and a white shirt rolled neatly to the elbows. The crisp look complimented his naturally wavy black hair, which had been cut to just above the collar. His copper skin was flawless. But as his eyes roamed hungrily over her, Rune felt undressed and unexposed. She wrapped her arms around her waist.
“I expected more, Verida.” Silen crossed his arms. “These two can’t even control their markings. What good are they to us?”
Rune was lit up like a Christmas tree. Grey was no better.
“There hasn’t been time for training,” Verida said. “We were attacked by a clan of wolves and barely made it here alive.”
Ambrose plopped back down on the loveseat. “A werewolf attack. Isn’t that interesting.” She crossed her leg, and the slit on her purple dress rose up her thigh.
“Ambrose.” Silen said in warning.
“What?” She smiled over her shoulder at him, twirling a piece of black hair around her green finger. “With rumors of the wolves looking to separate themselves from the council, this is interesting.”
“Enough!” Dimitri wasn’t overly loud, but the command cut through the room like a knife, resonating deep. “Our guests have just arrived, Ambrose. A little decorum?”
She smirked. “Of course. As you know, decorum is of the utmost importance to the fae.”
Silen growled but returned his attention to Dimitri. “I heard no news of any plans to attack.”
Dimitri took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly through his nostrils. “No,” he said coolly. “I don’t imagine you did.”
In the tiny space between one moment and the next, the vampire wiped away his expression of disgust and became a textbook image entitled The Picture of Sophistication. The change was so rapid and yet so smooth that Rune blinked, wanting to rub her eyes. This new image of Dimitri would’ve had subtitles and side texts explaining how to be the perfect host for any occasion.
“Welcome,” he said. “It’s been a long time since Venators have walked this side of the gate. We’re pleased to have you. Come, sit. You must be hungry.”
Verida’s fingers pressed into the small of Rune’s back, urging compliance with Dimitri’s request.
Rune’s weight was on her heels, not wanting to step further into the room, but under Verida’s encouragement her legs numbly carried her forward anyway. This was madness—she shouldn’t be here. The light grew too bright, her breathing too loud. The council members moved in from every direction like otherworldly birds with carefully placed footfalls and an alertness that surpassed their immediate surroundings. Each one evaluated, noting Grey and herself but also each other.
Tate had warned them, and he’d been right. They’d just walked into a pit of vipers masquerading as party hosts. Rune sat, feeling like a rat in a cage, looking up while giant faces peered down, calculating her usefulness in some twisted lab experiment. Every sense she had was screaming, Danger!
And that was all it took.
The Venator fury she’d unleashed earlier on Verida began thrashing its ugly head, beating against her ribs and pummeling the base of her esophagus, demanding release. But release was the one thing it couldn’t have. She could see the predators beneath the masks, see the darkness and power that lurked under their skin, and she knew that if anyone besides Verida realized the battle raging inside, they would put her down like a rabid dog.
Mercifully, Grey settled next to her, offering the calming influence she desperately needed. She twisted her hands together in her lap to keep from grabbing his.
Tashara sashayed behind them, suggestively running a finger down Grey’s ribs. He jerked ramrod straight, the color fading from his face.
“Tashara, darling.” Shax straightened his vest before he sat. “Perhaps you could stop trying to tempt the boy. I don’t think he’s replaceable.”
“Everyone’s replaceable,” Dimitri said, his words dripping with meaning.
Tashara breezed right over it. “I don’t know what you mean, Shax.”
“I didn’t come here to watch this.” Omri’s white hair hung behind him like a sleek pelt. He raised his chin. “Do what you must in your own chambers, not at the dinner table.”
“Not at the dinner table?” Shax gave Rune a sly smile. “What a titillating existence you elves must live.”
The downward spiral of sexual innuendoes and growing tension was interrupted as a stream of creatures entered from several doors, all carrying steaming platters.
“Thank Rana,” Verida muttered under her breath.
The food was served and taken away shortly after. It was followed by another course and then another. There were crisp vegetables that reminded Rune of several she’d had at home, only all wrong. Carrots that were a deep maroon, peas that were orange . . . green potatoes. They all tasted right, if she didn’t look at them. Then came meats swimming in rich, bright sauces, breads and rolls, butter and jam, tarts filled with berries.
The food was probably amazing, but she was too busy to notice—watching the small, tense exchanges between council members, ignoring Shax, and trying to memorize names and faces, all while fighting her inner demons. By the time they reached the main course, her appetite was gone, and everything tasted like sand.
As dessert arrived, the members talked with one another about clans and boundaries, payments and promises, future plans and past problems. Overwhelmed and overloaded, she tuned out.
Grey was still attentive, grasping every piece of information.
While he was busy focusing, she stared, taking in the newly exposed Grey. How could this boy have been right in front of her for years, yet she’d never truly seen him? What she noticed now went beyond the shocking reveal of his face and physique. Grey was smart and sweet and had stepped in to put her at ease every time she thought she would fall apart. Even in the carriage, she’d seen the look on his face when he’d closed his eyes. He’d been scared but had put it aside to reach out and make her feel better.
His shoulders were no longer hunched, and he’d stopped dipping his head to hide beneath his hair like he had before. He grew more confident by the second, which made him that much more attractive.
Shax breathed in deeply, as if inhaling a delectable aroma. It was so loud that it caught the attention of everyone at the table. Rune startled—Shax was staring straight at her, and his blue eyes blazed with hunger. A smirk tugged at his lips, and he sniffed again in her direction.
Tashara twirled her fork in the center of the dessert plate. “Do control yourself.”
Shax winked.
Verida reached beneath the table and gripped the top of Rune’s thigh in warning.
It took Rune a second to catch on, but then her stomach lurched. Shax had picked up on her attraction toward Grey.
A serving girl leaned over Shax’s shoulder to take his plate, and his attention shifted to her, smiling broadly.
Verida leaned over to Rune, whispering in her ear. “Stay focused. Shax will bed every female within a mile radius and use whatever magic it takes to make that happen. And you would be his magnum opus. Keep your thoughts under control, and give him a wide berth.”
After all the plates had been cleared, Dimitri turned his chair slightly to the side so he could easily look down the table to Rune and Grey. “I speak for the council when I say we’re thrilled to have two Venators back on our side. We have high hopes for this new arrangement and are pleased you agreed to the position.”
She held back a bitter laugh. The way Dimitri made it sound, they’d approached her with a job offer, laid out all the perks, and then thanked her for choosing them. The only choice she’d made was to go after her brother.
“If I may,” Grey began, the perfect picture of decorum.
The council members relaxed under Grey’s manners. She even saw the hint of a smile from Omri. Rune could learn a thing or two.
Dimitri motioned. “Of course.”
“What is expected from this position?”
Dimitri’s eyebrows began a calm and controlled ascent skyward. “Verida? I was under the impression you’d explained.”
Verida’s flinch was subtle but there. “Just to reiterate, we were interrupted by a pack of very angry werewolves. Details were missed.”
Ambrose loudly scoffed at the end of the table. “I thought you more than capable of handling a few wolves, Verida. Perhaps we’ve misjudged your value.” Her violet eyes glittered with mischief.
Verida leaned her head around Rune, meeting the faery head on. “I am quite capable. I apologize that, while being chased down with no weapons and two untrained Venators, I didn’t get all the details in. I chose instead to not let the wolves chew on the two of them while I handled the rest of the pack.” She gave a painted smile. “But perhaps next time you can show me how it’s done, so I can get it right.”
Ambrose’s expression soured. Omri leaned back, looking delighted.
“To understand what we need from you,” Dimitri said in answer to Grey’s question, “you need to understand that our domain is very different from yours. I know little of your world, but I do know that your power structure is constructed of humans alone.”
The way he said humans sounded like he wished to replace the word with vermin. Rune bristled.
“Those seated at this table offer a representation of the strongest species. As council members, we speak for our kind in order to prevent this world from being in a constant state of war. Unfortunately, with strength comes independence and power. Species such as ours never do well living under constraints for long.”
“Silen.” Ambrose interrupted. “Perhaps you can attest to this?”
“Or maybe Ambrose can help illustrate the point.” Tashara leaned back, resting her elbow on the arm of her chair. The movement was simple, but in the hands of a succubus, it played out as subtle seduction. “Last I heard, the fae had been straying from their borders despite orders to the contrary.”
Ambrose’s eyes flashed, and what Rune could only assume was magic rolled across the table like fury made tangible. The magic was visible in that subtle place between seeing and sensing. There was a ripple in the air, like a breeze . . . or the soft tendrils of barely there fog. Goose bumps erupted up and down her arms as the temperature in the room plummeted.
Omri’s head twisted sharply toward Ambrose. “We are on neutral territory, and you will keep your magic in check.”
Tension crackled between the elf and fae.
“As you can see,” Verida said. “We are in need of some mediation from a third party.”
They needed a hell of a lot more than that!
“Mediation?” Grey repeated.
“Dimitri, may I?” Verida received a quick gesture of assent and continued. “Your species is genetically strong enough that, with training, you should be able to withstand ours. But as you have no history here, neither of you are involved in the power struggle that has this land in a stranglehold. The hope is not only that you, as Venators, will be able to speak for the council but that you will also enforce the rules and laws of the land without ulterior motives.”
Grey nodded. “You’re looking for a neutral party.”
“Indeed.” Dimitri said.
Rune didn’t care about the drama or the politics. She was here for one reason. “And what about Zio?” she asked. “Where does she play into all of this?”
Dimitri’s eyebrows rose. “Where did you hear about Zio?”
“There was a small amount of time on their first night through the gate,” Verida said. “I was able to share a few pieces of our history.”
The deletion of Tate from the story was obvious. Out of the corner of her eye, Rune saw Grey frown.
“What an interesting choice on the order of details.”
Verida and Dimitri looked to be having a silent argument as they stared at each other down the table. Finally, Dimitri leaned back and tented his fingers. “In time, it’s our hope that you will be assets in our fight against Zio, yes. But this goal is long term. First we must pull together our people under the direction of the council. Present a united front. This is where you come in.”
“You want us to scare people into following you.” The words were out of Rune’s mouth before she could stop herself.
Ambrose laughed darkly. “Look how quickly the little monkey learns, and how freely she speaks.”
Rune’s inner demon started crawling up her throat. She ached to wrap her hands around the fae’s throat.
Omri sighed with irritation. “It has grown late. Perhaps our Venators would like to retire?”
“I just have one other question,” Grey said.
Verida rolled her eyes and flopped back in her seat.
“When do our responsibilities begin?”
“You’ll both need to be trained extensively before we let you out of the castle,” Dimitri said. “You’ll need to understand your roles as the law in this land and how you will act under the direction of the council. You will need training on weapons and history—”
There was a loud crash outside, followed by shouts. One of the doors opened, and the guard with ram horns curled around the sides of his head hesitantly stepped in. “I beg your pardon, sir, but there’s a request for an audience with the council.”
“I gave you strict instructions that we were not to be interrupted.” Dimitri bit off each word like one would cut the head from a snake. “They can come back in the morning.”
“I know, sir, and I would, sir”—he dipped his head low—“but this man won’t make it until morning. I give it no more than ten minutes before he bleeds out in the entry, and . . .” He looked over his shoulder to the foyer.
Silen slapped a hand down on the table. “Spit it out.”
The guard jumped. “He came under the decree that grievances of death and kidnapping would be given an audience. To deny him now would end in his death, which would break the agreement offered to the people.”
Tate had informed them how much the council despised having to take such action, and Rune could see it all over their faces—like they were looking at a cockroach.
Silen growled. “Oh, let him in, Dimitri. The Venators should get a taste of what they’re agreeing too. Where is our dying friend?”
“Just outside. Tate is trying to calm him so he doesn’t bleed out faster.”
Dimitri’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod.
The guard bowed and exited. A moment later, the man stumbled in. Rune gasped. Two long gashes had ripped his cheek open from eye to chin. Another had peeled back the skin across his forehead—white skull peeked through the skin and blood. His shirt and pants were soaked in so much blood that it was impossible to tell how many more wounds there were.
Tate walked in behind the man, his expression neutral, and stopped a respectable distance away.
“Please, help me.” The victim weaved as he attempted to cross the room. His feet barely remained beneath him. “They must save them. The Venators—I saw them in the forest.” He gasped, wrapping a hand around one side. “The Venators, please.”
Now that the man was closer, Grey could differentiate between the fabric of his shirt and the flaps of blood-coated skin. Whatever claws had shredded his chest and sides had been incredibly sharp and as thick around as Grey’s pointer finger.
