A Secret to Die For (Secret McQueen)

by Sierra Dean

  “Who’s stopping you? Though I hazard to remind you it didn’t go so well the last time you tried.”

  I socked him on the arm, which was about as effective as punching a brick wall.

  “You swear to me once this is over you’ll let the vampires help me?”

  “I do.”

  “Fine.” I made it seem like I was yielding because it gave me the illusion of control, and sometimes it helped to pretend like I was making my own choices.

  He bent down and kissed me lightly on the forehead, then tilted my chin up again and pressed his mouth to mine. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, so I didn’t feel the need to wriggle free of it. Something about it felt right and appropriate in a way that had nothing to do with romance.

  Sig’s natural gift for setting those around him at ease took hold, and the tension that had been building in me since I first walked through the council’s doors began to melt away.

  At least if I was walking into an ambush, I’d be relaxed.

  Holden returned with the others in tow. Sig gave Sutherland his instructions, and my father nodded politely before leaving us.

  “So much for getting in and out,” Clementine observed. “You’re not really good at stealth missions, you know.”

  I almost laughed. She was more right than she could have guessed. I could get in undetected without much difficulty. It was getting out I hadn’t mastered.

  It was too late to start trying now.

  “You will be present as Secret’s entourage,” Sig announced. “It will show the council she has those who are willing to stand behind her, even in difficult times such as this.”

  Reggie lifted his hand. “I seriously didn’t sign up for this.”

  “But you are here now, and you will do as I say. Unless you’re inclined to disobey the direct command of two Tribunal leaders.” Sig raised an eyebrow in challenge, and Reggie dropped his hand, easily defeated.

  I felt bad for the two wardens. They had agreed to come along in order to help us find the necromancers, and now they’d been sucked into a political coup. They couldn’t have imagined anything like this would happen when they’d followed Holden the previous evening.

  Leaving the Tribunal chamber, we followed Sig through the dank stone halls to a much larger space, one I was familiar with but the others might not be. The elder council’s judgment hall wasn’t a fun place to be. I’d come here once to argue for Brigit’s right to be a warden, and I’d felt like I was the one on trial.

  This time, I would be.

  Without knocking, Sig swept into the room with a commanding aura draped over him like a cloak. If anyone knew how to make a grand entrance, it was Sig.

  Inside the room, fourteen vampires fell silent, all eyes turned to us.

  Aside from the twelve members of the elder’s council, Juan Carlos had taken his rightful position on the Tribunal seats kept in this hall, and Arturo was sitting beside him, in a chair I’d never seen before. It was on the same level as the three Tribunal seats, but not identical.

  At least he wasn’t sitting in my place.

  “You’ve brought us the traitor, Sig,” Juan Carlos crowed, coming to his feet.

  “You speak boldly and out of turn,” Sig replied. “Secret has not been found to be a traitor, nor has any such charge been brought against her. Your distaste for her alleged bloodline notwithstanding, she has done nothing wrong.”

  Juan Carlos’s mouth formed a thin line, and he gave me a withering glare. “She’s bewitched you.”

  I didn’t give Sig a chance to reply because I laughed so loud anything he said would have been lost. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” I wiped pink-hued tears from the corner of my eyes. “You might choose to think the worst of me, and that’s your prerogative or whatever, but you can’t be stupid enough to think I could enforce my will on Sig.”

  “You are a manipulative little cunt, and I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

  Though the room had already been silent, it was now so still I could have heard a pin drop. It’s amazing how quiet things can get when no one around you needs to breathe.

  My face flushed hot from his words. It was no great surprise that Juan Carlos hated me, and I knew he’d never trusted me, but for him to outright disrespect me like this in front of the elders was appalling. For all intents and purposes I was his equal.

  If this were the wolf pack, it would be within my rights as queen to rip his throat out.

  Too bad wolf law didn’t apply here.

  “How dare you,” I spat back.

  The vampires around us were watching the proceedings like some kind of insult-laden tennis match, their gazes volleying from one side of the room to the other, but none of them showing an allegiance towards either of us.

  “You are a liar, a traitor and a freak.” His face was splotched red with anger, and when he spoke, spittle flew into the air from the emphasis he placed on each word. “And now we know it. The truth is out, and I will be rid of you once and for all.”

  Bristling with rage, I forced myself to look somewhere else, and my attention landed on Rebecca, Holden’s sire. “Rebecca,” I said.

  “Tribunal Leader Secret.”

  At least she was still using appropriate decorum, where Juan Carlos seemed to have forgotten all his.

  “Is there a rule in the council that says a werewolf cannot sit on the Tribunal?”

  She fidgeted nervously and glanced to the man standing next to her, but he waved his hand for her to answer me. “No.”

  “What are the rules regarding a Tribunal leader, then?” Now my focus returned to Juan Carlos, and I suspected my face was as red as his.

  “The only rules regarding the Tribunal are as follows.” She spoke as if reading from a book. “A Tribunal leader will remain in their position until they are removed by death. If their death is the result of a declared fight, the victor of that fight has rightful claim to the seat. If the death is the result of natural causes or an accident, the Elder Council will determine the successor.”

  “Anything else?”

  “A Tribunal leader may never be challenged or killed by another Tribunal leader.” Now her attention turned to Juan Carlos as well.

  He trembled, barely able to contain the anger vibrating through him.

  “How did I come to be on the Tribunal, Rebecca?” I asked.

  “You were the victor in a declared fight against Daria Chabert. The council convened, in regards to your perceived mortality, and deemed you were still fit to take the seat.”

  “And has the council’s opinion on my ability to lead been changed in any way since that time? Have I given any reason to doubt my loyalty?”

  “At the request of your fellow Tribunal leaders you were sent to the seer, Monica. She determined you were suited for leadership and trustworthy to the council.”

  “And has Monica ever been wrong about anyone?”

  “Monica is never wrong.”

  A thin, malicious smile crossed my lips, and I could tell it was doing nothing to improve Juan Carlos’s mood. “Thank you, Rebecca.”

  “If I might…” She started to speak then let her words drift. This called my attention back to her, and for a moment we simply stared at each other.

  “What?”

  “This situation is unorthodox to say the least. The elders need to know if the rumors are true, because you’ve done nothing as of yet to deny them.” A few of the other vampires around her murmured their agreement with her request.

  “I do not deny it.”

  This brought the whispering up a few octaves. The tone in the room became more excited and not necessarily in a good way.

  “Then you willfully hid facts about yourself from the council,” Rebecca said.

  Now Juan Carlos was the one beaming like the cat that caught the canary.

  “No. I never hid it. I just chose to limit the number of people I entrusted with the truth. And for good reason if his reaction is any indication.”

  “T
hen you claim there are those among us who knew, prior to the rumors from Europe?”

  “It’s not a claim, it’s a fact.”

  “I knew,” Holden announced, coming to stand next to me. He met his maker’s stern gaze and didn’t blink. “And if you doubt it, compel me to tell the truth.”

  She sighed. “One sentry does not matter in the grand scheme of things. Especially not one who was sharing her bed.”

  “What about me?” a small, female voice cut in.

  Juan Carlos dropped back into his chair, the red in his cheeks suddenly gone ashy white. The rest of the elders, too, looked as though they were staring into the face of death itself.

  The little girl who came into the center of the room, with her warm brown skin and curly hair still done up in pigtails, was not what one would think a room of vampires would fear. Yet they cowered before her, and her wide, pearl-white eyes seemed to see everything and nothing all at once.

  I don’t think Monica had ever left her room before. As far as I knew, she waited until people were brought to her and otherwise stayed away from the rest of the vampires. Yet now here she was, standing on the edge of the circle and waiting for someone to answer her question.

  “What about me?” she asked again, and this time her voice was cold with annoyance. “Does my approval stand for nothing anymore? If that’s the case, why do you insist on bringing your sniveling, disgraceful wretches before me, hmm? Why am I made to taste the blood of the dishonorable and wicked? If you trust me when I call your brothers and sisters liars, why do you not trust me when I tell you she has earned her place on that seat?”

  “We don’t question you,” a male vampire said, his head bowed in a simpering display of obedience. “But she lied to us.”

  “She did not lie to me,” Monica snapped. “I cannot be lied to. The truth is always in the blood, and she did nothing to hide herself from me. How dare you question what I have already ruled on? Who are you to decide one man’s bitterness and jealousy bears more weight than my objective declaration?” Her head pivoted towards Juan Carlos, and he flinched. “You should shudder from me, Spaniard. I can smell your sins from here, and they will not make you any friends in this room. All of you should fear what I know. There is not a single innocent soul among you.” She pointed at each of them in turn, and no one dared to speak out against her now.

  For such a small creature, she was formidable, and her childlike voice echoed with authority.

  I looked at Clementine briefly, and she appeared awed by Monica more than afraid of her. It was the kind of wide-eyed adoration I imagined seeing from a true believer in a church, not from someone who was fearful of her sins being revealed.

  “Secret McQueen,” Monica said, crooking her fingers to call me forward.

  I glanced to Sig for help, but he shook his head and gave me a slight push in her direction. Apparently I was on my own here.

  I moved across the circle and crouched beside her so we were at an equal height.

  “Are you still true to this council?” She was staring right into my eyes, and though she had no pupils, I no longer believed she was blind.

  “I am.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  I wanted to refuse, not because I had anything to hide, but because like the others I was afraid of her down to my very core. So much had happened to me since the last time she’d tasted my blood. The kind of things that left dark, incurable stains on the soul. But if I wanted her to tell the council Arturo was the true villain here, I would need to offer my own obedience first. I held my hand out for her.

  She took one finger and pierced the skin with a tiny, delicate fang so my blood beaded to the surface, then she licked the wound clean and closed her eyes.

  The room was silent as the grave while everyone stared at her, waiting.

  “There is a traitor among us,” she declared, and my heart stopped beating.

  Chapter Nineteen

  What the hell?

  “I knew it,” Juan Carlos shouted triumphantly, forgetting his fear for the moment.

  “Sit down,” she snapped at him. “I said there is a traitor among us, but it is not her.”

  My heart started beating again, and I let out a trembling sigh. Though I’d known full well I had done nothing to betray the council, hearing her words still felt like the stamp on a death sentence. Once she corrected them, I was able to breathe.

  “This girl’s heart has been touched by great evil.”

  Literally, I thought, forcing the memory of Dr. Kesteral’s hands in my chest out of my mind. Now was not an ideal time to slip into a PTSD-related panic attack, though I could feel one creeping in at the edges of my psyche. It was like a swarm of small, biting insects, nipping away at my calm.

  I wanted to reach out for Sig, to use his abilities to soothe myself, but I couldn’t move. If I appeared desperate or helpless now, the others would assume the worst of me. I lifted my head high and kept my gaze trained on Monica and no one else. I would stay sane through this if it killed me.

  Be cool, Soda Pop.

  “Many of us have been touched by evil.” Juan Carlos sneered. “It doesn’t make her special.”

  “Some have been touched, others do the touching.” Monica stepped away from me and surveyed the room. Those who were closest to her looked away, as though it were her blind eyes that saw through them and not her ability to read their blood.

  All of them had something to fear.

  Arturo alone appeared unconcerned. He languished in his seat, one leg propped up on the opposite knee, and he took in the scene as if it were a play being performed for his amusement. His demeanor was that of a man who thought himself invincible.

  The fool honestly believed he was above this situation, or that Monica would not single him out.

  She would drink his traitorous blood if I had to rip his throat open myself for her to get at it. Rules be damned.

  “There are those here who stink of lies and malice. It’s why I choose to keep myself apart from you. You who are chosen to be our voice. The council of elders indeed.” Her lip curled. “Babes, the lot of you. What have you learned in your hundreds of years, hmm? What do you know of the world that you should consider yourself worthy to make the laws and choose who lives and dies? You are not nature. You are not gods.” She stomped her tiny foot, and though her small stature might otherwise make the gesture seem ridiculous, she managed to instill it with a menacing forcefulness.

  “We never claimed to be gods,” Rebecca said, her voice meek. I had to give her credit, because not many around us would have had the balls to speak up.

  “Not in words, perhaps, but your actions speak volumes. And not one of you before me deserves the authority you’ve given yourselves. None but him.” Monica pointed to Sig.

  No one here would deny Sig had earned the claim to his title. Even a mortal would recognize his power and yield to it, though they might not understand why. Two thousand years of life had made him the man he was, and that was a formidable thing indeed.

  He inclined his head towards Monica in an appreciative bow, but said nothing.

  “And he has determined she is worthy to have a seat next to him,” Monica continued. “What makes you—any of you—think you know better than him?”

  “You knew?” Juan Carlos’s attention was all for Sig now, his anger coming back to a boil. “I thought you protected her out of some infatuation. I thought surely once you fucked her, you’d be done with her, and we could regain some semblance of normalcy.”

  Once he fucked me?

  “I’ve never had sex with Sig,” I declared, to anyone bothering to pay any attention to me. I was hardly innocent of sharing beds, but I didn’t like being accused of getting it on with someone I hadn’t. There was only one man in this room who’d been inside me, and it wasn’t Sig.

  “Maybe if you had, this madness would have ended sooner.”

  “Secret is of my line,” Sig said. “Her blood is my blood, and any favoritism I h
ave shown her is based on that, not, as you say, my desire to fuck her. Though one might argue the way you express such desires indicates you are the one who’d like to bed her.”

  Oh, ew. Gross.

  I kept my shudder to myself, but Juan Carlos was less capable of controlling his reactions.

  “What did you say to me?”

  “Tell me, Juan Carlos, what is it that has made you loathe the girl from the moment you laid eyes on her?” Sig asked.

  “I knew from that very first day she didn’t belong. What kind of vampire—half-blood or otherwise—willingly asks to kill her own kind? She was eager to become our assassin. She reveled in the deaths of our brothers and sisters.”

  “Deaths we demanded of her. She may have carried out the executions, but the sentences were ours. You cannot blame her for doing her job.”

  “I don’t approve of her enjoyment of it.”

  “You hate me because I was good at killing vampires?” I asked. “Or did you hate that I was so good at it I kept coming back?” He’d always wanted me dead, there was no great secret there. I hadn’t been able to figure out the source of his loathing though. Now, it seemed, I was finally going to get my answer.

  “You were never meant to be one of us. Never.”

  “And even after the council said I was going to be on the Tribunal, you couldn’t let it go. Everyone accepted me but you.”

  “I won’t accept you. Not now. Not a thousand years from now. And I won’t have to, because you are mortal. You’ll wither and die, and others will come to replace you. Centuries from now I will still have my seat, and you will be erased from even the longest of memories.”

  It was hard to argue with him. I was mortal, and though I didn’t know if my vampire blood would extend my natural life expectancy, if I did live to old age, I would still succumb to the ravages of time one day. That was the theory, anyway. The likelihood of me getting to test it out was slim to none, especially now.

  “So the reason you hate me is because I’m human.”

  “I hate you because everyone thinks you’re special and worthy of great praise. I hate you because even you think you’re above the laws. But most of all I hate you because he can’t see you for what you really are.” He was pointing at Sig, his hand trembling. The whites of his eyes were almost invisible thanks to the inky-black pools of his irises.