The Council was silent.
“New business, then?”
“I have some,” Lord Gravis said, his shaggy hair falling forward into his eyes as he leaned forward. John acknowledged him.
“I have several of my people wondering if you’d reconsider your decision on Erick Jantzen.”
John sighed. “Isn’t that technically old business?”
“No, because the request is new. Listen, John, I understand your position, I do. You can’t just let people run around murdering other people, but the incident with Erick wasn’t that clean cut.”
“It wasn’t? Because I seem to remember a duel of honor, which Erick won—and then once his opponent surrendered, he murdered him in cold blood in the front hall.”
“That duel was a Pride matter. You know the shape shifters think completely differently from us. They’re not even fully human, much less fully numen. As far as Erick was concerned, the moment Dominic Kinnaird challenged his authority, only one of them was walking away alive.”
“That is exactly the mindset we need to change!” John protested. “That case is the reason I’m pushing these new rules. When Nick surrendered, that should have been the end of it.”
“It isn’t, though,” Michael interrupted, seeing a chance to press his case once more. “The lions have a very rigid hierarchy, and Nick knew what he was doing when he challenged his alpha. People die in the Rite of Passage all the time, but we never persecute the winner.”
“That’s the problem with these male-dominated Prides,” Lady Terra said, sniffing. “They always want to be the leader of the pack. Real lions don’t suffer other males lightly. I’ve always thought it barbaric that we force them under one alpha instead of letting them split the territory. I was just saying to—“
“Enough,” John interrupted with a sigh, rubbing his face with a weary hand. “Veronica, the lions have always had control over their subdivisions. We don’t force them to have a single alpha, and we never have. Michael, the Rite of Passage is completely different, and you know it. Granted, I didn’t expect quite so many of the lions to walk out the door with Erick when I asked him to go, but the request was still valid. We have small children here, and I don’t want them to have to worry about stumbling over a dead body.”
“It wasn’t a request, John,” Lady Medica said quietly. “You banished him.”
“I did, and it was my right to do so. Caer Anglia has always been under the purview of the Swordsmith... my Court, so to speak... and I did what I thought was necessary for the safety of our people. That is why no vote was required. So, Magnus,” he said, turning back to Lord Gravis, “if your request is to allow Erick back into Caer Anglia, the answer is no. The other lions that left with him are more than welcome to return, but I simply cannot allow a cold blooded murderer to remain within these walls, or even on this property. Have your people been in contact with him?”
“Of course not.”
“Know this—I will protect our people however I see fit. If I see Erick Jantzen on my property, he will live to regret trying my generosity.”
Magnus settled back into his chair, a faint frown on his face.
“Anything else?” John practically snapped, hoping that the group stayed quiet. His son had tested his patience before he’d even entered the Council chamber, and he wasn’t at his best.
No one spoke.
“Excellent. Meeting adjourned.” He rose to his feet, snatched the Sword from the table, and left the room without another word.
Chapter Three
“Aeron!” the bartender shouted jubilantly as the pair entered the bar. “Jenkins! It’s been a while. How’s that friggin’ mansion up there treating you?”
“Not as well as town is treating you, Tony. Two beers, whatever’s on tap—my wife’s having a baby!”
“Sonovabitch! Right now?”
“No, no—in the next month. We’re just getting an early start.”
“Well, you come back when she’s had it, and it’ll be on the house.” He slid a tall pilsner glass to each of them and left to attend other guests.
“So, why did you really want to come?” Robert said the moment Tony was out of earshot. “Not that the drink isn’t welcome…”
“There are weird things going on, Rob,” Trevor said, turning the glass between his palms. “There have been quite a few disappearances lately.”
“What do you mean?”
“Things I’ve heard. People talk. The missing are mostly my father’s people.”
“They’re just… gone?”
“We haven’t found them yet.” He took a long pull of the beer and made a face. “That’s part of the reason I’m trying to convince Dad to let people stay at Caer Anglia full time. It’s safer there.”
“No luck on that, huh?”
“You know there isn’t!” He pushed against the bar, looking angry all over again. “We fought about it again, right before I left. He’s so stubborn!”
Robert made a noncommittal noise and hid his smile in his own drink.
“Don’t smirk at me! I’m trying to save lives here!”
“Are these people dead?” Robert asked, startled.
“We don’t know. We don’t know anything. Hell, I don’t even know where Michael Warrington got that kid!”
Robert laughed. “That was probably the funniest thing I’ve ever seen—Michael carrying a screaming baby and looking completely lost!”
“Did anyone ever get out of him who the mother is?”
“Not a word. Whoever it was, he doesn’t want anyone to know—do you think it was a human girl?” he asked suddenly.
“Mr. ‘Chosen People’? I highly doubt it. Though, it would explain why he’s so reluctant to name her. Tony! Another round! We have another baby to celebrate!”
By the time they left the bar, dusk was falling fast along the dirt road that led from the Village to the gates of Caer Anglia. Despite their pleasant drunkenness, they managed to climb over the low wall that marked the beginning of their property and ignored the numerous “No Trespassing” signs. They circled back around the closed iron gates and continued down the dirt road—from here the road wound for almost a mile to the house.
“We’re going to be back after dark,” Robert muttered. “Your father hates it when people are in the woods after dark.”
“My father is an idiot,” Trevor said, making an exaggerated face as he stumbled over a tree branch. “He doesn’t know anything about… about anything.”
“He’s not—” Robert began before he heard something and stopped in his tracks, reaching out to restrain Trevor. “Shut up—listen.” Adrenaline suddenly pumping through his system, he stood dead sober and held Trevor in place as the pair waited. They were fairly deep into Caer Anglia’s property—no local would dare trespass here, and no traveler would ever wander this far from the main drag.
Holding his breath, Robert hoped it was merely a large buck, or even a bear. The telltale rustle of movement through the woods behind them was coming from more than one area—and all were steadily coming closer. “We’re being followed—let’s go.”
They picked up the pace, ignoring the path and heading straight through the brush in the quickest route back to the safety of Caer Anglia. Robert heard deep breathing behind him, punctuated by an odd whistling noise that made his heart leap into his throat. He knew that noise.
“It’s Jantzen… Trevor, RUN!”
They began to run at full speed in the general direction of Caer Anglia. An aging lion with a split nostril burst out of the bushes and was after them, roaring. There were other lions behind him, but Trevor didn’t stop to count how many, just cursed and shot a bolt of plasma at his pursuers. The shape shifters pressed themselves to the ground to avoid the ball of energy and pounded on after them, closing the gap.
“Together?” Robert shouted toward him as they ducked around a rocky outcropping. He nodded silently, trying to catch his breath. He watched Robert swirl his hands, working a ball of
water into being until it was bigger than his head, roiling with the strength of a stormy sea as he tried to keep it under control. Trevor took a final breath and put his hands together, rubbing to extract an electric charge that he strung out like taffy between his hands. The stampeding feet behind them told them their time was up.
Trevor stepped to the side and held his hands out, the electric field strung between them. Robert threw his hands forward, releasing the water through the field and into the face of a snarling lion that had just cleared the corner. He went down yowling, electricity jittering along his nerves. The two other lions that were right behind him stumbled over his body, losing their footing. Robert had taken off the second the water ball left his hands, spotting Caer Anglia through the trees. Trevor was less than a heartbeat behind. Without time to unlock the gates, Robert stopped in front of the ten-foot wall encircling the house and turned to hoist Trevor up and over.
Balancing precariously on the top, Trevor held his hand out and pulled the scrambling Robert upward. Jantzen came leaping out of the dark forest, latching onto Robert’s ankle and pulling both men off the wall. Trevor lost his balance and fell headfirst into the dirt, where the other two lions tore into him.
Robert furiously kicked at the lion attached to the back of his leg with the other foot, finally blasting him in the face with wave after wave of water in an attempt to get him to let go. The alpha lion abruptly did so, leading the other lions in a mad dash back to the forest.
Bleeding and broken, Robert crawled over to Trevor, still lying at the bottom of the wall where he’d fallen. His throat was completely torn out, and his torso bitten and bruised. His eyes stared sightlessly at the dusky sky, but Robert still tried to revive him, inadvertently covering himself in his brother-in-law’s blood as he tried to restart his heart. He screamed for help the entire time, not even noticing that he was crying as he worked.
By the time someone heard his cries for help and gathered the Medica acolytes, it was far too late for them to do anything to save Trevor. They managed to drag Robert away, still screaming as they tried to fix his broken leg and torn ligaments. Finally, Lady Medica knocked him out and ordered two of her people to bring him inside to the surgical workroom.
John came running outside, pulling up short as he saw them carrying a limp, bloody Robert toward the front door. “What happened here?” he demanded. “Is he dead?”
“No, sir,” the younger of the two Medicas answered him, not meeting his eyes. “Just unconscious.”
“And my son?”
The pair said nothing, simply moving along with their burden.
His heart dropping to his toes, John broke into a sprint, heading down the manicured lawn toward the front gates. A cluster of people was gathered there, making it difficult to see. Once he pushed his way to the front, he abruptly wished he hadn’t.
Lady Medica, covered in his son’s blood, was trying to heal the horrible gash in his throat, but the edges of the wound were flaking away in sheets of black ash as she tried—a sure sign of attempted healing on long dead flesh.
“Lady Medica,” he said hoarsely, watching her panic as she realized the man beneath her fingertips was still dead. When she didn't react, he barked out, “MINA!”
She took in a gasp of air she hadn’t realized she needed, sitting back on her heels and looking up at John with tears in her eyes. “John—I tried.”
“I know.” He helped her to her feet, steadying her by the elbow when it seemed she would pitch backwards. “You used too much energy, I think. You should have stopped when...”
“Had to try,” she mumbled, her knees buckling. John handed her off to two others and concentrated on the decimated body of his last surviving son.
“Trevor…” He closed his boy’s eyes gently and turned to face the last of the small crowd. “Bring him inside and lay him out in my quarters for now—we’ll have to wait until they’re done with Robert before they can autopsy him. Please, try to keep his wife from seeing you. The last thing she needs is this image in her head, especially this close to her time. Oh, and Khyle?”
The last man in line turned back toward John.
“Tell the Council to gather their people and head to the Atrium—I am calling a meeting of all numina in thirty minutes. All but Lady Aqua—I will inform her myself.”
Upstairs, Keopelani frowned and pulled back the curtain, peering out her window. There was an awful lot of commotion outside for it being so late, but the darkness made it almost impossible to see what was happening.
“I hope the boys return soon,” Mara said. “I’m surprised they’ve been gone this long.”
Keopelani was glad she’d convinced her friend to remain with her until the boys returned, but she, too, was worried. It was unlike any numen to attempt to find Caer Anglia after dark in the dense New England woods. It was designed to be hard to find.
Rapid footsteps in the hallway caused both women to turn towards the door. John burst through without even knocking, his eyes slightly wild. He’d washed his hands before intruding on them, so he was free of blood, but one look him told them something was seriously wrong.
“Lord Fulmen? John?” Keopelani said tentatively. “What’s wrong?”
“Is it Trevor? Robert?” Mara demanded, fighting her own cumbersome body to get to her feet. “Tell me!”
“I am sorry, Mara,” John said hoarsely. “The boys were attacked outside the gates by the banished lions—Robert is in critical condition, but… Trevor did not make it.”
She took two tumbling steps toward him and he held his arms out, intending to comfort her. Instead, she took a swing, trying to hit him in the face. He took a step back, avoiding her punch and catching her before she lost her balance completely. She beat at his chest with her fists.
“You bastard!” she cried. “It’s your fault! You banished them! If you hadn’t, Trevor… oh, Trevor…” She fell limp in his arms, keening loudly.
Keopelani moved forward to take Mara from him, pushing her back into the chair and using her numina to fill a glass of water for her to drink on sheer instinct. “John, it’s the shock, she doesn’t mean it.”
“I know.”
“I meant it all,” she coughed, trying to talk through her tears. They ignored her.
“I’ve called a meeting of every numen in the building in twenty minutes. I would like you to stay here with Mara—your sister can lead the Aqua in. We will be hunting the lions down.”
Keopelani nodded. “I’ll pass on the word. Thank you for coming to tell us.” She lowered her voice. “Give Mara a few days—she’s completely distraught.”
“Her words are nothing I haven’t thought a thousand times in the last ten minutes, my Lady,” he said with a slight bow, his face twisted in grief for the briefest of moments.
The moment passed, and he rose from his bow with the smooth mask of calm that had served him well all these years firmly in place. “I shall return after the meeting.”
He left Keopelani to comfort Mara as best she could and headed straight for the surgery room in the basement. He found a weak—but still living—Robert sitting up on the gurney, a few Medica nurses hovering around him healing random scrapes. From the look on his face when John walked in, Robert already suspected what John was about to say.
“Please tell me he’s alive,” Robert said.
John merely shook his head.
Robert swallowed once, looking as if he was going to vomit, but forced himself to stay calm. “Have you told Mara?”
“I just came from her—she blames me, of course.”
“She’s grieving, John—she won’t blame you tomorrow. What’s the plan?”
“My plan is to go lion hunting. Your plan is to stay in bed and recover.”
“The hell with that!” he said savagely, pushing the blanket off of his legs and trying to swing his feet to the floor.
“Mr. Jenkins!” one of the nurses said reprovingly, putting a hand on his chest. “We’ve just regrown your entire
Achilles' tendon! Don’t undo all that hard work.”
He ignored her and tried to rise, clutching at the side of the bed. The nurse looked helplessly at John, whose grim smile indicated he wasn’t about to help her. Sighing, she gave in, warning, “If you walk with a limp the rest of your life, don’t come crying to us! At least take the cane?”
He snatched at it so he didn’t have to cling to the bed and took a few trembling steps toward John. “Should I go change?” he said, gesturing towards his still bloodied clothes.
“Absolutely not,” John said. “Let them see what the lions have done.”
***
“I have called you all here for a terrible purpose,” John announced, scanning the crowd of numen in the Atrium, meeting the eyes of many. Quite a few of the numen were staring openly at Robert, covered in blood and limping as he paced behind John on the dais.
“My son was murdered this evening.”
Many of them had heard a rumor to that effect, but could not bring themselves to believe it. John gave them a few moments to mourn openly before calling for silence. “The rogue lions that were banished from Caer Anglia months ago, led by Erick Jantzen, are responsible. I am hereby organizing a hunt. We will capture them and bring them back here, to be put on trial for their lives. As is our custom, no numen is punished unless judged guilty by the Council after a hearing of the evidence for and against. Trevor will be laid out in state here in this room tonight for viewing, and we will bury him with full honors upon our return with the lions. I ask for volunteers—three from each of the seven numen families capable of such a commitment. Know this: it will be dangerous and we will not return without the perpetrators. Do not risk yourselves if you have other commitments or duties. I will come to each group individually.”
Tempus was always exempt from these types of things, since Alixandra was the only one, and the only other Power users at Caer Anglia were Selenita Selocrim and her little girl, Rebecca. He would not ask a mother with a young child to put her life at risk.
The Complete Chosen Trilogy (The Chosen #0) Page 2
