by Juniper Hart
And Lane’s grandma was there, leaning down from the high counter to sigh heavily.
“Lane, approach, please,” Miriam Aldwin ordered. Lane looked at her mother, who pushed her forward, and the little girl shuffled toward her. “Lane, do you know why you’re here?” Miriam demanded.
“I tried to disappear Jamie Robinson. I used the spell you taught me, but he didn’t disappear, even though I stared really hard.”
“Haven’t we told you before that you can’t do that?” Grandma groaned, but Lane thought she might be smiling. It was hard to tell in the strange lighting.
Lane genuinely could not recall and said so.
“I thought I was supposed to practice my spells,” she replied in confusion. “Aren’t I?” She looked back and her mother, who hung her head. “Mama, why are you crying?”
Julia didn’t answer and didn’t meet her daughter’s eyes. Miriam sat back and looked at the others in their chairs.
“She’s still too young to enforce the rules,” Miriam declared, and there was a wave of protests among them.
“She fakes it!” one snarled, and Lane saw the flash of his teeth.
He looks like the Big Bad Wolf, she realized, drawing back toward her mother, who enshrouded her in trembling arms. Suddenly, Lane was afraid.
“Mama, am I in trouble?” she whispered.
“I’m not sure yet, Lane. You need to apologize for what you did to Jamie.”
“I didn’t do anything! He pulled my hair. He’s always picking on me, and no one cares! I only looked at him!”
There was a groan of resignation among the throne-sitters, and the small woman on her grandmother’s right threw up her hands.
“Julia, you must control her. How many times must she be brought before the Council?”
“Yes, Laurel,” her mother sighed. “I will control her better.”
“There will not be a next time, Julia,” the one called Laurel insisted. “You must find a way to keep her from exposing herself to the mortals, or…”
“Do you understand, Lane?” Grandma asked, but Lane didn’t comprehend anything that was happening, and she wouldn’t for several years. All she knew in that moment was the nearly palpable fear radiating off her mother.
“Lane, answer Grandma,” Julia whispered. “Say you understand.”
“I understand,” the child muttered. “Can we go home now?”
“No,” the Big Bad Wolf snapped. “Not until we have some assurances here.”
“What would you have me do, Landon?” Julia demanded, her eyes flashing with annoyance. “She is five years old!”
“I would have you keep her at home until she knows better or until she can accept the consequences of her actions.”
“Landon, you cannot expect Julia to keep the child at home—” Miriam started to say, but there was a murmur of consensus around the high counter. Lane felt herself begin to tremble.
“Yes,” Laurel agreed. “You must keep her out of sight until you are sure she understands her powers and what she is capable of.”
“I-I have a job!” Julia choked. “I have to make a living, and I can’t afford full-time daycare! This is absurd! How will we live? The authorities will come looking for her if I pull her out of school.”
“The choice is yours, Julia. We can sentence her and that boy to death as mandated by the Rules of the Enchanted. You must know we have already bent over backward to accommodate you because of who you are,” Landon reminded her. “What will it be?”
“Homeschool for a couple of years might be good for her,” Grandma offered, though there was a note of sorrow in her voice.
“Make your choice, Julia,” another one ordered.
“Death?” Lane whispered. “Mama, am I going to die?”
She had learned about death, her cat Vittorio having passed away recently. Her mother had done a little ceremony for him, but the image of his frozen, dead face was forever etched in Lane’s memory.
I don’t want to look like Vittorio! I don’t want to be buried in the ground! It’s cold there! I want my bed!
“NO!” Julia gasped. “No, baby, you’re not going to die. You’re… you’re just going to stay home with Mama for a while.”
“It is so ordered.”
There was the slam of something heavy, and Lane jumped in her mother’s arms. Then they left, the car ride home unbearably quiet as Lane tried to make sense of what had happened.
“Mama?” she murmured. “Am I in trouble?”
“No,” Julia answered firmly, steering her Buick into the townhouse parking lot. “You’re not, my love.”
“Are you mad, Mama?” Lane asked in a small voice. “I’m sorry I tried to disappear Jamie even though he deserved it.”
“Not at you, Lane. You did nothing wrong. You’re a child, and you deserve better protection than this.” There was a peculiar tone in Julia’s voice, one that Lane had never heard before, and even then, she wasn’t sure she liked it.
“Mama?”
“Shh, Lane, everything is going to be fine. You know why?”
“Why, Mama?”
“Because one day, you’ll be sitting in that Council, and you’ll be able to take down those bastards one by one.”
“I don’t understand, Mama.”
Julia turned and smiled wanly at her daughter, patting the child’s knee.
“Not yet you don’t, but you will. Together, you and I will crumble the Council from the inside out, and they will each pay for all the injustices they’ve ever bestowed upon us.” Julia caught Lane’s confused look and shook her head. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. In due time, you’ll know what needs to be done. For now, just trust your Mama, okay?”
Lane nodded.
That was easy to do. Her mother was her whole world, after all. Julia would never steer her wrong.
1
“You need to stop looking at me like that,” Sylvie insisted. “I didn’t find anything. I looked twice.”
Henry snorted and shook his mane of black hair, the ends tickling his neck. He sneered at he paralegal contemptuously.
“I wouldn’t believe you if your tongue came notarized,” he replied. “Go back through the files and look again. There’s something in there, and I don’t care if it takes all night to find. You’ll do it.”
Sylvie pouted and leaned across the desk, her ample bosom flashing in his peripheral vision. As always, she was trying to distract him with her sensuality instead of doing her damned work. It might have worked for some of the other partners, but it didn’t do a thing for Henry.
“Sylvie, I really don’t have time for this,” Henry told her, rising from his desk so abruptly, she fell back in surprise. “I have a meeting that won’t wait.”
“Oh, can I come?” she asked, and Henry scowled, unsure if she was teasing or not. It was hard to tell with Sylvie, after all.
“Didn’t I just tell you to go through the discovery box again and find what we missed for the trial tomorrow? I won’t have the prosecution one-upping us on the witness stand. Do you hear me?”
“Fine,” the paralegal grumbled. “Just leave me to work all night while you go to some party or something.”
“When you’re named partner, Sylvie, you can do whatever the hell you want. Until then, you do whatever I want. Understood?”
She grinned impishly. “I like the sound of that,” she joked.
Henry snorted and stalked toward the door, shaking his head. If only Sylvie had any idea what the impending meeting was about.
She’d never wave her breasts in my face again. If she didn’t run screaming, she’d come to work in a 17th century puritan dress, covered from head to toe, lest her neck be exposed.
It was one of those moot thoughts that had no bearing on Henry or how he dealt with his life, and as he made his way to the elevators through the posh law offices of Brandis, Carter and Ross, he dismissed it as quickly as it had come. The fact that he was a vampire was no more a thought in his head than the air he inhal
ed naturally and freely.
He had far more pressing matters to attend to that day than the uselessness of his paralegal and the impending murder trial scheduled for the following day.
Today was the day the new member was introduced to the Council of Seven, although Henry knew as well as anyone that Lane Aldwin was hardly someone who needed to be presented to the elders.
Many years ago, the little witch had been called before the Seven numerous times, and while that was not the reason Henry remembered her, the Aldwins were renowned, with no real need for formal introduction.
Even the ones who don’t show themselves in public.
“Mr. Brandis,” someone called as the elevator doors opened on the fiftieth floor. Henry stifled a groan. He reluctantly turned to eye one of the senior partners as she stood, her arms folded. Her blue eyes flashed with the same annoyance Henry felt. Never did Marjorie miss an opportunity to bother him. Sometimes he wondered if she didn’t just wait by her window, hoping he would chance by.
What is she even doing up here? She’s supposed to be on the forty-sixth floor, pretending to work. There are too many people in this firm.
“What is it, Marjorie? I have a very important meeting—”
“I know what today is,” Marjorie interrupted in a voice which was, in his opinion, too loud. “I just wanted to let you know that several of us are opposed to this.”
Henry’s annoyance turned to anger, and the elevator doors slid to a close when he did not embark upon the lift, but his attention was fully on Marjorie and her brazen approach.
“I don’t think I need to tell you how little your opinion matters in this regard,” he spat. “Moreover, I have no idea why you would dare bring this up here.”
His own crystalline eyes darted about the entryway, but as he suspected, no one was paying them any mind, even though he wished they would. The last thing he wanted in that moment was to be having this discussion.
“You have some pull,” Marjorie insisted. “You can—”
Without warning, Henry was in her face, his movements completely undetectable to the naked human eye, and Marjorie gasped at his sudden closeness.
“First of all,” he hissed, “mind your mouth in public. It would be a shame if you said something that would land you before the Execution Council, wouldn’t it?”
Marjorie’s already fair face paled even more, but her jaw clenched in determination.
“I’m just telling you what half of us think,” she retorted, though her tone was much quieter this time, much more reserved. “You are a representative of the Enchanted. You should hear me out.”
“Secondly,” Henry continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “Lane is an Aldwin. There is nothing anyone on the Council can do to keep her from serving, no matter how much you kick and scream.”
Marjorie’s shoulders sagged slightly, and she shook her head.
“It’s been five thousand years, Henry,” she whispered. “How much longer must we abide by this ridiculous law—?”
“You will abide by the Council’s laws as long as they exist!” Henry snarled. “If you bring this up to me in such a manner again, I will see you punished swiftly and severely.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, and he spun to leave Marjorie staring after him. He didn’t bother with the elevator this time.
As he fled into the stairwell, his body shifted, his lean, muscular form becoming a small winged creature to take the stairs in a sweeping swoop. He knew he was simply trying to put distance between himself and Marjorie, but it didn’t much matter—her words were only the echo of thousands who were just as disgruntled by the Council change.
I really don’t know what the other vampires expect me to do about this, Henry thought. I don’t have any choice in the matter. I have no interest in swearing in another Aldwin, not when I liked Miriam so much. Lane will have massive shoes to fill in the wake of her grandmother’s death.
As he reached the parking level, Henry transformed back to his mortal shape and exhaled, straightening his suit jacket before pushing his way into the underground. He wasn’t looking forward to the ceremony, knowing what he knew about the newest Council member, but he couldn’t deny that there was a morbid curiosity burning in him about the witch who had been hidden away for the past twenty years.
Henry vaguely remembered Lane Aldwin, the orange-haired girl with the mass of freckles and wide green eyes.
She had only been a child the last time she’d been before the Council, but there had been so many who had come and gone throughout the years, it was impossible to recall much more than that. Aside from those earliest days, Henry had not seen nor heard about Lane, though he was not the only one. Something strange had become of the girl after that last Council visit, and the rumors were wild.
Some believed her mother, Julia, had hidden her away to keep her from trouble, long after it was necessary, while others claimed she was simply reclusive and chose to live away from the others. It didn’t much matter to Henry which was true. All he knew, and all he was required to know, was that she was next in the Aldwin line and that Miriam had named her as her successor. It was the rules of the Council.
It doesn’t matter how up in arms everyone else is about it—she is the descendant of Alaric Aldwin, and her place stands.
Henry made his way to the Mercedes parked near the stairwell and slipped inside. Even though he had enough to worry about without squeezing the initiation ceremony into his day, his top priority had always been the Council of Seven, and despite his desire to blow it off completely, he knew he couldn’t. Henry had held his seat for almost a thousand years, taking it over when he had stopped aging at twenty-seven. His predecessor had been bitten by a demon in a brawl back then, naming Henry as the Vampire Regent.
Henry went to look at his reflection in the rear-view mirror and laughed at his own futility. Every time he got into the car, he did the same thing, as if the fact he couldn’t see himself would ever change, even after nine hundred years. If he had been able to examine his face, he would have seen the regal lines of handsomeness, the high cheekbones, and the intense, clear blue eyes against a dark complexion.
Things have changed since the beginning of the immortals, he thought, pulling out of his space and running a hand through his thick, dark hair. Thankfully, I’m one of the lucky few who has been blessed with the ability to sit in the sunlight, thanks to Miriam’s spell. Some of us are not so lucky.
Through the late afternoon traffic, Henry steered his vehicle. Normally, he opted for a car service to drive him through the busy New York Streets, but in this case, he knew discretion was paramount. Even if he used an Enchanted driver, the location of the Council meetings was to be secret, unknown until the last possible minute.
Although Henry had an idea where he was headed, he had yet to receive a text telling him exactly where he needed to be.
I have time to stop for Wendy’s, he mused, glancing at his cell, which had not yet chimed. Junk food was his weakness, one that Henry kept well-hidden from just about everyone who saw him as a fit health nut. Every aspect of my life doesn’t need to be monitored, Henry thought grimly, finding a drive-thru. At the last minute, he changed his mind and decided to go inside. He wasn’t expecting a text until five, and it was only four-thirty.
I’m not stinking up my car with telltale wafts of double cheeseburgers, he vowed silently. What if Laurel wants a ride home or something? If she learns about my affection for fast food, she’ll never let me live it down.
But when he walked inside the fast food joint, he immediately groaned aloud.
“I knew it!” Raven chortled to her companion when he entered the restaurant. “You owe me ten bucks, Drake.” Her mate snickered and shook his mass of dark hair.
“No way,” the demon insisted. “He’s nothing if not predictable.”
“Then you shouldn’t have made the bet!” Raven insisted. “Ten bucks!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Henry said firm
ly. “I only came in for a drink.”
“Sure you did,” Raven scoffed. “This is the closest Wendy’s to your offices, and since we’re meeting on your turf for this, I knew you’d be here.”
“If you wanted to see me, Raven,” Henry growled, “you could have just texted.”
The female demon’s blue eyes widened, and she shook her black mane of hair vigorously. Sometimes, in the proper light, Raven and Drake appeared to be related, but that was not something Henry would ever mention in front of them. He knew too well that a simple nip from either one of them would be the end of his reign over the vampires, and Henry had no intention of giving up his seat on the Council.
“I’m not here for you,” Raven laughed. “We’re starving, too. If we’re going to endure hours of ceremony, I’m not doing it on an empty stomach, right, babe?”
Henry eyed Drake, his eyes narrowing.
“He can’t come,” he said slowly, joining the two in the line. Drake scowled at the reminder.
“Thanks for bringing that up,” he snapped. “Obviously, I know that. It’s a Council meeting, no mates allowed.”
There was an unmistakable bitterness in his voice, but Henry had heard it before. Drake wasn’t particularly fond of the fact that his mate, Raven, was the most powerful demon while he played second fiddle—or at least that was how Henry saw it.
Raven ignored him. After five thousand years of dealing with Drake, she was well-accustomed to his moods, even if Henry still found his sulking off-putting. He liked Raven much more than he appreciated her sullen boyfriend. Mate or not, Henry couldn’t imagine enduring such brooding.
“Combo three, please,” Raven chirped at the cashier. “And one for grumpy Gus, too.”
Drake’s frown deepened. “I’m not grumpy. This is just my face,” he protested.
“And you just want a drink? Bottle of water?” Raven asked sweetly of Henry, who sighed. The gig was up, and he wasn’t about to starve because he’d been caught. Raven was right—it was bound to be a brutally long night.
“Combo four, please.” Raven paid for their meals, and they stepped aside to wait. “I could have gotten it,” Henry told her, making her laugh.
