Would they ever get to a point where he came over for supper to chat? Talk about his day, how he and Calli were doing, whether Isabelle had hopes and dreams of her own that she’d missed out on for over a hundred years?
She waited in the vestibule outside of the chamber where the members of the Synod met. Demetrius was inside. Two guards, a male shifter and a female vampire, flanked the door. Isabelle stood between them, waiting to face her destiny.
“You can have a seat, Madame Devereux,” the female said. “These meetings can last for hours.”
Isabelle smiled. “Madame Devereux is my mother. Please, call me Isabelle.”
The vampire’s golden eyes flickered. Had she expected a haughty prime? Or an unintelligible one? The guard inclined her head. The shifter guard was as stationary as one of those palace guards in England.
Isabelle clasped her hands behind her back. Her hair hung free, but she had the urge to comb it over her face. She’d grown up, but the self-protecting habits of a scared little girl were strong.
Footsteps echoed on the other side of the door. Isabelle didn’t move back as the wide panels were swung open. Demetrius gave her a small smile. He’d told her he would explain the situation to them and give them a moment to think. They’d known about her and that she was “special” but no other details how, partly because Demetrius hadn’t known the extent of her sight.
Isabelle stepped into the room and walked with Demetrius. Shoulders back, chin up, knees high. No, this wasn’t America’s Next Top Model season eighteen, but the confidence the models required on the runway was what she needed now. Because she wanted to turn around, flash home, drag Scurn in front of her door, and squirrel away inside until her visions got too hard to ignore.
But she’d made her choice.
A long table stretched across the front of the room on a dais. Demetrius had gone over everyone she was going to meet. They were all facing her.
Only one female sat on the panel, Sylva, a stern shifter with dark hair, a tight jaw, and steely eyes. John, a shifter-vampire hybrid whose mouth was lifted in a bemused smile, tracked her progress through the chamber. The second shifter didn’t have the height or width of a typical shifter, but ease radiated from him, like he’d seen a lot and wasn’t going to get worked up until it was necessary. That must be Demke. Bastian, Ophelia’s mate, was the newest member and his smile was the most genuine.
Demetrius led her up the dais and pulled a chair in front of the table. He took the empty seat across from her between Bastian and John. Two shifters, two vampires, and a hybrid.
Demetrius had said John was the unofficial leader of the group, acting more like a moderator. He spoke first. “Madame—”
“Ugh, Isabelle, please.”
John smiled, but Demetrius’s eyes briefly shut. Was he worried it’d be downhill from here?
“Isabelle. Feel free to call us by our first names.” John rattled off introductions. “Let’s get to why you’re here. You can see things that will happen, or should happen, in the future. It’s been discovered that a little girl has a similar talent, especially where numbers come into play.”
“Nailed it, John.” She gauged his reaction. Had he been genuine?
John continued as if he hadn’t noticed or didn’t care that she hadn’t referred to him as master. “We’re at a crossroads. If we let you live in peace, your lives may be in danger from others, much like you were before from the vampire council. Some may think it would be unwise not to utilize your talents leading the people, much like the lycan council has done in the past.” And they’d severely abused it as well, but John didn’t seem like he was hiding the detail. More like he knew that everyone else knew, so why waste the angst on leaders who’d been dealt with?
Sylva snorted, her lips twisted. “I have no wish to sit and ponder the misconstrued interpretations of random ravings.”
Ouch. But accurate.
“Neither do the rest of us.” John reclined in his chair and cocked his head. “Demetrius speaks highly of you. Bastian as well, though he admits he doesn’t know you well.”
“How would they know?” Isabelle asked. “No one really talks to me.”
John leaned forward. “Why is that?”
“I don’t make sense. Before you ask—no, I don’t always know what a vision means, random ravings and all.” Sylva’s eyes narrowed, but Isabelle ignored her. “It’s probably why I’m unintelligible. I can sense events that will unfold. Sometimes I can see why. I can help specific people at various unpredictable times.” There was a nice oxymoron for her visions. Unpredictable premonitions. “The real question, as we all know, is what do you do with us?”
Sylva and Demke nodded. Demetrius had hardly twitched and Bastian’s stare was filled with curiosity more than anything.
“You’re not prisoners,” Demke said. “What do you want to do?”
“Be useful.” The words tumbled out before she could think. Their truth was so strong she didn’t want to take them back. “I’ve been tucked away, my life at a standstill and that of my dear Scurn’s as well. My parents have dumped resources into hiding me, but I think… I think I can be useful.”
“Of course you can,” Bastian agreed. “To us, or to society?”
“I don’t know. I have a bad record with past leaders. But it’s not just about me. Katrina needs protection, but we can’t move Scurn over like he’s nothing more than a fire extinguisher. ‘In case of fire, break glass.’”
John chuckled. An unusual reaction. She often got her own jokes; few others did. “Demetrius mentioned Scurn. Why is he not here?”
“He doesn’t trust you,” Isabelle answered. “Any of you. Maybe Demetrius—just a little.”
“And you?” Sylva asked. “Do you trust us?”
“I don’t know you well enough.” Her ability selected that moment to unload visions in her brain. She started rambling. “Down below comes up. One part of each one makes one grow stronger, better, faster.” John cocked a brow. “Separation is no more. Children’s blood will mix.” She clamped her lips shut. And the conversation had been going so well.
“Interesting,” John said. “And that means what?”
Isabelle’s lashes fluttered. She was getting images, but they charged through her mind with no pattern. She pointed at John. “I see you. Bishop. I see young kids growing, then I see them smiling at their mates.”
“John’s a hybrid.” Demetrius finally spoke. “Bishop, too. You’ve said ‘down below comes up’ before. My first thought was the underworld. Bishop’s essentially a hybrid of a vampire and a demon. What you said is vague as hell, but if we look at it based on current events, then you’re saying that our worlds are mingling.”
“And that our form of leadership may be outdated.” Bastian’s statement turned everyone’s head toward him. He shrugged. “We have John, but will we need to add some demon blood to the panel soon?”
Sylva’s mouth gaped. “We might as well invite a human.”
“I don’t see any humans in our future.” Isabelle gulped. They all turned their stares to her. “Not that I won’t. Just that we’re taking care of problems as they arise with humans.”
Demke rubbed his temples. “The fact is you’re a seer. We have seers. The question of what are we going to do with them is a huge concern because the people don’t want us relying on one person, or two or three people, to rule them. They want their voices to be heard.”
John nodded. “And if we aren’t consulting seers, how can we justify the cost of the protection detail?”
“How can we trust they won’t be victimized to use against us? We’re in a tough place,” Sylva said, surprising Isabelle.
They started tossing around options that included more of what Isabelle had lived. Isolation. Guards. Caution in interpreting her words.
She felt like Demke. A throb starting in her head. She narrowed her eyes on the bunch. None of them were talking to her. None were asking what she wanted. She’d said she wanted to serve
, and she did, but they were deciding how. Meanwhile, Scurn was planted outside another girl’s door, staring at the wall.
Isabelle and Katrina weren’t poodles. They were watchdogs.
Isabelle gasped. The talking died and their stares burned into her, but she was seeing nothing. “I’m a watchdog. Of course.” She snapped her gaze up to Demetrius, then looked each one in the eye. “The attempt on my life when I was a kid stemmed from fear that I would sound the alarm on the council’s evil deeds. And that is exactly what I did. It is what I’m supposed to do.”
Demetrius blinked. “You wouldn’t have to be locked up to do that.” He glanced to his left and right. “And it’d justify the expense of protection detail.”
Sylva held her hand up, her brow furrowed. “You’re saying that you’d hang out at home and if we make a decision that’s evil and full of greed, you’ll tattle to the people?”
Isabelle wouldn’t call it tattling, but… “Basically, yes.”
“You’re our insurance to the people that we’re here for them and not for us,” Bastian said. “And Katrina does what?”
“She’s our insurance during tough economic times,” Demke announced, sitting up straighter. The others gaped at him, but he shrugged. “Weren’t we just talking about how to make repairs to the Synod campus without draining our funds? If the girl’s mother is an accountant, all we need is a little yay or nay that we’re not on track to an empty bank account.”
Bastian dipped his head. “She can also be the checks and balance system for those who will argue nepotism. Isabelle’s brother is on the Synod, after all.”
A commotion from the outer chamber pulled all their attention away from the discussion.
“Let me in,” Scurn roared from the other side of the heavy doors. “Isabelle!”
Isabelle raced to the door before Scurn met the sharp end of the sentries’ stakes. She flung them open and everyone froze. Scurn was straining against the two guards, his dark eyes wild. They each had a hand on his shoulder and the female held a blade to his neck, but Scurn relaxed instantly when he saw her.
“Bartholomew, what are you doing here? I thought you were watching Katrina.” He hadn’t abandoned a child for her, had he? As grateful as she was to see him, she couldn’t let him risk others. She frowned. “And how did you get here?”
The presence of the Synod loomed behind her. They were only feet away but weren’t pushing past her. They were waiting for the drama to play out.
Scurn’s gaze flicked over them before returning to her. The guards hadn’t eased up on him. The blade of the knife at his throat indented the skin.
“She’s safe,” he said. “Zoey flashed me here.”
He brandished a rose. The poor thing had been crushed, the head hanging limp from the stem. But it was one long-stemmed rose, given to her just like in her favorite show. Her lips parted in a soft gasp.
“My place is with you,” he said solemnly. “Not as your protector, but as your mate.”
Isabelle smiled and launched herself into Scurn’s arms. The shifter guard stumbled back and the vampire female jerked her knife away. Isabelle pressed her mouth against Scurn’s and he held her tight as her feet dangled inches above the ground.
Demetrius cleared his throat. “So I get that you two are seeing each other now, but how long has this been going on?”
Isabelle pulled away but had no wish to leave his embrace. “Two nights.”
“Perhaps introductions are in order,” John said wryly.
Isabelle snapped the ragged rose out of Scurn’s hand and dragged him into the chamber. The guards closed the door behind them. Demetrius introduced everyone, and as he spoke, his green eyes took on a knowing gleam. When he was done, he spoke to John. “I have a recommendation for who can train the security detail. I can vouch for him.”
The closed door from Isabelle’s vision opened. The whole world lay on the other side.
Chapter 8
The car slowed to a stop at the apex of the circular drive. Isabelle held her grin back as Scurn parked the black sedan they’d borrowed from Demetrius. His strong-coffee eyes swept the dash. She loved how he was as meticulous with driving as he was training his recruits.
But next time, she got to drive. They got out and started for her parents’ front door.
“Are you nervous?” Isabelle wrapped her hand around Scurn’s strong bicep. He was rigid from his freshly shaved scalp down to his brand-new brown loafers. The rest in between was tense, but looking at him made her impatient for their return home.
He wore slacks for the first time ever. The crease was sharp and he’d even worked up a sweat ironing it in. His emerald-green button-up shirt made his eyes look impossibly dark and brooding, but she knew it was from the anxiety churning inside of him.
“Nervous,” he echoed. “Yeah.” He fiddled with his tie and adjusted his sport coat.
She grinned and rang her parents’ doorbell. They were going to have to invite themselves over more often if this was how he dressed. She liked him in his regular work ensemble, and she loved him with nothing on, but this was a special treat.
His gaze raked down her body. She’d traded in her usual shift and bought a special red dress for supper. Her parents knew they were together, but they hadn’t yet met them as Isabelle and her mate Bartholomew. This dinner was special.
Life had been a whirlwind of strategic planning since the Synod meeting a month ago, and she’d done nothing more than call them and tell them Scurn wasn’t her bodyguard anymore and that she was in love with him.
Mother had stuttered so badly they couldn’t finish their conversation.
Demetrius had offered to come tonight, but Isabelle had to do this herself.
The massive arched door swung open to reveal Father. Soft lighting suffused into the night from behind him. That was more welcoming than turning every light on like this was an interrogation. Mother and Father had released their full-time servants and only retained a maid and cook to come as needed. The cook was probably already gone. Mother enjoyed serving.
As if Isabelle’s thoughts had summoned her, Mother rounded the corner into the foyer. Her simple, yet elegant ivory gown hung off her like she’d dressed for the runway. A fur stole circled her neck. It probably originated from the days when fur was necessary to keep warm and not for fashion.
Father was dressed just like he’d been the night he’d found her and Scurn in the yard, minus the housecoat. His arms twitched like he might hug her, but he stepped back and ushered them in. The door closed behind them.
“I, uh, certainly hope you brought your appetite,” Father said.
Mother’s fingers dug into her stole. “Welcome.” Her gaze darted between them. “You two are mated? And Demetrius knows about this?” She pressed her lips together like she hadn’t intended the outburst.
Father’s brows drew in and they all looked at each other. Isabelle tightened her grip on Scurn and he stayed close to her. Might as well get this encounter over with.
Isabelle cleared her throat. Scurn no longer spoke for her. “Yes. Bartholomew and I are new as a couple, but we are very much in love. I fired him before we…you know.”
Scurn inclined his head. “Our professional relationship stayed professional until…”
“It wasn’t,” Isabelle finished. “And respectfully, it’s not Demetrius’s business.”
Mother blinked, her hand stalled over her heart. “It’s…a surprise. I just…” Tears welled in her eyes and her face crumpled. “I feel like I don’t know you. One day you’re my little girl and now you’re all grown up. When did it happen?”
Isabelle released Scurn to go to her mother. They wrapped their arms around each other and it was like getting catapulted a century into the past. Familiar smells and memories of laughter rose in her mind. “Mother, I’ve missed you.”
She didn’t know how long they clung to each other and cried, but when she pulled away, she sought Scurn.
Father had an arm on hi
s shoulder and they were murmuring to each other. Scurn’s hands were moving like he was describing a subject in detail. Or defending it? They stopped when they saw her watching them.
Mother dabbed her eyes. “Your father has been dying to know what you’re doing with the Synod. I’m not surprised he jumped Scurn as soon as I was distracted.”
“What a coincidence,” Isabelle said. “Scurn’s been dying to tell someone about the seer guard training program he’s set up.” She clapped her hands. “Mother, can I tell you about our new place on the Synod campus?”
“I hope you have pictures.” Mother clasped her elbow and led her through the entryway, their heels clicking on the marble floor.
The males’ footsteps echoed behind them as they followed. All of Isabelle’s trepidation had drained and she sensed nothing but relief and enjoyment from Scurn. She craned her neck over her shoulder and smiled at him.
His eyes twinkled. Their life together just got better. She’d wanted nothing more than to strengthen her relationship with her parents and have them accept Scurn. Her worry that they’d feel betrayed by their trust in him was for naught.
They grew together every day. He was almost used to sleeping in a bed, but she woke up next to him whether they were on the floor or on a mattress. Or one morning, on a counter.
Each day, she woke to a life full of choices and he was always her first.
I chose him.
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Thank you for reading. I’d love to know what you thought. Please consider leaving a review for The Seer at the retailer the book was purchased from.
~Marie
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The Seer Page 8
