The Council
Book 1
A Witch’s Memory
Copyright 2011 by J.C. Isabella
Smashwords Edition
This book is the personal property of J.C. Isabella. Its characters are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. This book is for your entertainment, not to be given freely or resold in any way.
Thank you for respecting her work.
To Stephanie. The brightest stars do not outshine others. They fill lives with a soft and subtle glow, leaving a more lasting impression than a supercilious flash of light. And I would like to thank Rachel Chekov for being awesome. Having a book dedicated to you makes you cooler than everyone else in school :)
Inside he was tense, coiled, but resolvedly calm.
Then I felt him falter, his worry ratchet up.
Our gazes locked.
He would not sacrifice himself for me.
I wouldn’t allow it.
Chapter 1
Henry
The darkened hallway stretched out like a lazy black river. I listened to the sound of my footfalls echoing off the marble floors, wondering if other men who’d walked this path before me felt half of my trepidation, or the immense amount of excitement coursing though my veins.
I stopped on the threshold of an open doorway at the end of the hall, trying to imagine the next thousand years of my life.
I was excited of course, about to enter into a world I’d been groomed for. Since I was a kid I’d dreamt of attending one of the important meetings held in this very room. Now that I’d turned eighteen, I’d finally “officially” be part of it.
“You gonna stand there all day, or close the bloody door?” My cousin Davy poked his head out of the room, grinning like a fool. “Come on, Henry. No need to be nervous about your first Council meeting, even if it is an emergency one.”
I straightened. “I’m not nervous.”
Normally there was a ceremony to welcome a new member of the Council. But I’d found out by text message from Davy that the ceremony wasn’t going to happen. He’d told me to get my ass to the Council chamber because the shit was hitting the fan.
He wasn’t one to mince words.
So not only was I nervous about my first meeting, I was nervous about what was going to happen in it.
He smiled. “Don’t worry, I wont tell anyone.”
With a grateful nod, I slipped inside, shutting the door behind me. The chamber was dimly lit, but I could see the outlines of three men standing around a white marble table. They were talking in low voices, careful not to let their conversation carry. As I drew nearer I studied the men, each dressed in black, faces obscured by the low light.
Davy took his place on my left at the table and let out an anxious breath.
I stood next to James William Langley. The Warlock King. My father.
He looked formidable in his black uniform. Gold buttons adorned his coat and a saber was sheathed at his side in a black scabbard. The white gloves on his hands were a stark contrast to the dark colors of his uniform.
When I was little my father looked larger than life to me. He was the king, and the most powerful warlock, aside from my grandfather. It seemed he was capable of carrying the weight of the world on his great shoulders, just like he’d carried me.
“I would like to welcome Henry to his first Council meeting,” my father said. He smiled proudly and clapped me on the back.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I bowed out of respect. If we had been alone it wouldn’t have been so formal. “I am honored to be here.”
“And I am equally honored, Son.” With a wave of his hand my father lit torches lining the walls, shedding much needed light in the room. “Now, I should like to call this meeting to order. If there are no objections because some of our party are absent?”
“James, I do not object, merely wonder at your haste.” The Vampire King, Vladislav, chuckled. His deep blue eyes filling with amusement as he looked at my cousin. “That was a very cryptic message, Davy.”
I eyed at my cousin. “You didn’t?”
Davy shrugged, hiding a grin. “It got their attention.”
My father leaned forward to see Vladislav’s phone as he held it out. “I guess I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
There was a rumbling growl from across the table and all eyes went to King Andrew. “It was a very funny message, I get it. Now lets get down to business.”
Vladislav nodded, “Is your son to join us, Andrew?”
“Unfortunately no, Quinn is handling a dispute between clans.” King Andrew was the least vocal of the kings, one of those strong silent types, until the werewolf in him reared its head.
I’d known Andrew and Vladislav all my life. I was thankful I didn’t have to worry about the group dynamics or having to prove myself to the kings.
“And your son?” my father asked.
“Dmitri is in Russia, taking my place at a dinner I regretfully backed out of to be here.” Vladislav looked more relieved than anything to be spared an evening of schmoozing.
“Then we shall start. I advise you to prepare yourselves gentleman. For as horrible as you imagine my news to be, it has the potential to be devastating.” My father motioned for us to sit in the black, high-backed chairs surrounding the table. No one spoke. They watched patiently. “The Resistance is back.”
“Black of black,” Andrew whispered.
Black eyes, black soul.
Black of black.
When one of us went over to the dark side, a void spread through the immortal like a disease. From the inside out. Consuming the soul. Turning the eyes black. There was nothing that could be done to reverse it.
Last time the Resistance challenged the Council they were annihilated. Five hundred years ago. A group of extremists, they wanted nothing more than to take over the world and enslave the humans.
I didn’t think it was all that inventive, but at least they set a goal for themselves.
Then they decided that taking over the world wasn’t enough. They wanted to open a portal to connect our world to the plane ruled by the Demon King, Reagus.
The leader of the Resistance, Craven, thought humans were weak. He believed we were hiding from them, cowering. He tried opening the portal, and almost succeeded. My father had challenged him, and with the help of Vladislav and Andrew, defeated him and saved the world.
The three men were already highly respected, but a call for order amongst the magical communities helped them to solidify the Council. Thus it was officially formed five hundred years ago. We have kept peace and order, together, since.
Eight ears ago, Craven returned. He gathered power and support, but was betrayed by someone he was very close to. A woman, I think. It’d been so long since I’d heard the story.
“So, are you saying Craven is back?” I wasn’t quite sure what all of this meant.
“His body was never recovered.” My father’s eyes flashed a brilliant green. All immortals eyes glowed with strong emotions we had. Happiness, sadness, anger…this hit close to home for all of us.
“What information do you have that suggests the Resistance is returning?” Vladislav asked. “There are no signs of a third uprising.”
“Your Majesties,” Davy said, gaining their attention. “Last night my men arrested a man for terrorizing humans in Central Park, New York. We’ve identified him as Samuel Price. Warlock. Six hundred and thirteen years. No mate and no children.”
I picked up where he left off. “He is the son of Maxwell Price. A man you all knew to be a traitor and murderer.”
Vladislav met my gaze. “A man is not guilty because of the life his father led.”
I didn’t mean to imply that Samuel was guilty because of his father, but I could see how Vladislav would take it that way.
Not many people were aware of the vampire king’s origin. He was the illegitimate child of Vlad the Impaler. AKA, Dracula. His familial roots did not dictate who he became, and with Dracula killed just after his birth, Vladislav grew up without the influence of a monster to shape him.
That being said, once you saw past his outside appearance of leathery, tanned skin, white-blonde hair and sharp fangs revealed by the curl of his upper lip, the vampire king was pretty cool. He particularly liked bowling, every Wednesday night, Disco style.
“Sir, I am aware of that, and I mean no disrespect.” I continued at his nod. “Maxwell was involved with the Resistance, some say second in command. When our men arrested Samuel last night, he claimed his name was Bane.”
Maxwell called himself Bane. He slaughtered seventy innocents in one night. Magical and human. For Samuel to use his father’s name, knowing what it means…
Davy drummed his fingers on the table. “Samuel has no trouble voicing how deep his hatred for the Council runs. He would see each of us dead.”
“We did execute his father for treason.” I said. “Samuel made it clear he wants retribution.”
“He must not value any kind of revenge if he allowed us to arrest him.” Vladislav said.
“I sat with Samuel,” said my father. “At length I gathered, that he has a message for us, and he is waiting for a specific time to deliver it.” The concern in his expression brought new worry. In all my life I had never seen him look so forlorn. “The man is insane, make no mistake. But he is merely the messenger, and so very loyal. He will not betray his master’s confidence.”
The question I knew everyone wanted to ask was, who was his master?
Was it Craven?
“Which is why we must prepare to fight the Resistance and focus on preventative measures.” Vladislav pounded his fist on the table. The sound vibrated through the room, shaking the floor and walls. “Damn it. We’ve fought them before successfully, and we will not concede this time.”
“Yes,” Andrew growled.
“I move we keep this information from our people—for now.” My father met each set of eyes fiercely in the firelight. “It is a new world we are living in, gentlemen. One of cell phones and the Ethernet.”
I grinned, “Actually, it’s the Internet.”
“Right, and if the information spreads too quickly, or is misinterpreted, our people would panic.”
Andrew managed a smile, “I learned how to update my status last night. My youngest, Garret, showed me.”
Davy nodded. “Welcome to the twenty-fist century. You’re gonna love it.”
My father rolled his eyes and glanced at me.
“I don’t think we’re at risk of anyone tweeting about a magical war,” I said. “But I agree. Keep it secret for now.”
“Then it is decided,” Vladislav stood. “The Council shall prepare for war.”
Chapter 2
I flicked the silver button at my throat, loosening my collar as I walked down the corridor. I’d been wearing restrictive royal garb for two weeks now, and I couldn’t wait to be in jeans and a t-shirt.
The Council was old school. Dressing in a button down shirt and pants wouldn’t go over well with them. I wore a military style uniform like my father. Formal black coat, white gloves, a saber, and black boots.
At least they let me ditch the cape.
“You going somewhere?”
I turned to find Davy jogging my way. “Yeah, home.”
“You are home.”
“My other home.”
“Ah, Capeside.” His English accent was thick, much more pronounced than my own. He’d had a good fifty years of English influence.
I moved to the States eight years ago from Essex, England. My parents bought a home in Virginia for summer vacationing, and ended up staying. Then they moved to North Dakota. The rest of the Council liked it so much they followed.
The move was more a change of scenery for them. They’d ruled from Essex for two hundred years, and before that, Aveyron, France.
Every so often, a change was good.
I didn’t mind either. I considered myself to be a bit of an adventurer. Moving around and exploring new places suited me. And being in America wasn’t vastly different. It was easy to visit Essex any time I wanted. So I wasn’t exactly homesick.
“I wanted to congratulate you on your graduation.” Davy said.
“Thanks…not that I actually attended.”
I graduated high school two days ago, but instead of receiving my diploma like everyone else, I had to be in France to inspect a compound commissioned to train new members of the guard.
“Can’t help that you’ve got duties.”
“It’s not that I mind my duties, I enjoy them. But it would be nice if my parents understood human duties could be just as important as nonhuman ones.”
Davy nodded, glancing around us before lowering his voice. “Does Venna know the secret yet?”
“No.” I headed down the hall.
“She will be eighteen soon. Someone has to tell the poor girl what’s going to happen.”
“My parents are hell bent on Venna discovering the truth without my help.” I rolled my shoulder, irritated. I hated secrets almost as much as I hated lying to someone I cared about.
I was beginning to feel cursed, like a bad penny.
“You know it’s not that easy.” He sounded a bit down now. “Flora’s going to be disappointed when she visits. She hates having to pretend in front of Venna.”
Right. Davy’s younger sister Flora was staying the summer at my house. I’d been so wrapped up in my thoughts I’d completely forgotten I was playing big brother for the next three months. Not that Flora thought she needed someone to watch her, being fourteen and quite self-sufficient.
“If things go my way Davy, Flora won’t be disappointed for long.”
“I hope so, for your sake at least.” He went quiet when my mother came floating toward us in an emerald gown. As usual, her brown hair was pinned up in an elaborate style, and she was dripping in antique jewelry. My younger sister, Claire, was trailing behind her in a matching outfit, hauling an unhappy tabby cat.
“Henry, dear. I’m so glad I caught you before you left.” She kissed my cheek. “And how is my nephew and his mate? Did you have a nice anniversary?”
“I’m excellent Aunt Irena, and Marianna is too. We had a wonderful time.” Davy’s face went a little pink.
“Oh, I’m so happy for you both.”
Claire blinked up at us, trying to hang on to the poor cat. She was the spitting image of my mother. “Davy, can I see Mari?”
My sister had big blue eyes and a little round face. Like a cherub. One pout and the most powerful warlocks were putty in her hands.
“As long as your mummy doesn’t mind.” Davy said, picking up my sister and allowing the cat to escape.
“Just for a little while.” Mum said.
Davy backed up, giving her a wink. “I’ll have the little brat back before too long.”
We said goodbye, and in a flash of gray light Davy and Claire vanished.
“So,” Mum said, hooking her arm with mine. We walked down the hall toward the south terrace. “Is something troubling my son?”
I shrugged. “The usual.”
“Venna,” she trilled with laughter. “I should have known. How is she?”
“Fine, I guess. Mum, I want to tell her what I am, who she is.”
When I was ten my mother said I was old enough to receive my first royal duty. It was exciting. I finally had enough power to earn recognition among the Council, and I wondered what she would have me do. Fight a monster? Wipe the memories of humans?
No, nothing that cool. I was to watch a girl named Venna Greer. Become her friend. Spend time with her outside of school and make sure she stayed out of trouble. The day she di
scovered she was a witch, since no one was allowed to tell her, I had to notify my mother.
It was an official order. My first. And I didn’t like it.
A little witch with wild, curly, red hair and a spunky attitude to match, Venna challenged me from the start. She jumped down my throat, got right in my face. I had to stay on my toes. I was used to people taking orders from me, but I couldn’t tell her to do squat. Even if I tried, she ignored me.
It surprised the hell out of me when she became my best friend.
From that moment on I was at a constant battle with myself, wanting to tell her the secret, knowing it wasn’t my place to do so.
“Henry,” Mum said. “Your father and I need to speak with you before you leave.”
“Is it about Venna?”
She pulled at my arm, taking me with her. “Yes.”
We walked the rest of the way down the hall and out onto the south terrace. It overlooked a large courtyard, filled with planters and pots full of my mum’s favorite flowers. A fountain sat in the center. It wasn’t massive, but it was big enough for my little sister and the other Council member’s children to play in on a hot day.
My father was already seated at the glass breakfast table. It was a warm summer morning, not a cloud in sight. The blue Dakota sky always seemed bigger than the sky back in Virginia, like it stretched on forever. There was a dry breeze. Already the heat was noticeable, and it was only eleven.
The compound was Council headquarters. It was broken up in to four wings. The Langley’s occupied the south wing. Brighton’s had the north. Dracul’s the west. The east wing was more of a common area. Complete with bowling alley.
It was twenty thousand square feet of madness.
Three family residences, connected by never ending hallways and secret rooms, were nestled in the center of two hundred secluded acres. The Council members lived in the compound full time, but they kept homes outside for much needed breaks.
The Council, A Witch's Memory Page 1
