Page 44 of A Bond Beyond Blood (The Butcher’s Daughter Trilogy #1)
E lias
Had I not been such a patient man— centuries of existence would do that to a person—the fact that it took the Council of Lords nearly a fortnight to respond to my request for a meeting would have driven me absolutely mad.
On the contrary, I was beside myself with excitement.
I hoped they’d schemed and planned while they made excuse after excuse to delay the inevitable, and today’s visit to the House of Lords would be nothing if not eventful and entertaining.
My mouth practically watered from the anticipation of it all.
I hadn’t had to persuade the gate guard to allow me entry today, an unexpected gift, and now, as I approached the House of Lords, the doors opened inward, a guard on either side, head held high and eyes narrowed as they watched me enter.
No fanfare this time, but a welcome as warm as could be expected nonetheless.
“Morning, boys,” I said with a wide smile. “Wonderful day for a coup, wouldn’t you say?”
“Shall we kneel?” one of them bit through clenched teeth.
I chuckled at the brazen stupidity, shaking my head as I passed. “I see we’ve learned nothing.”
When I reached the center of the foyer, I spun toward them and extended my arms dramatically.
“Time to choose a side, kids.” I winked at the one on the right, whom I recognized from my last visit, an old vampire, who’d been turned at a young age, mid-twenties if I had to guess.
Brightside or Brightling ... something like that.
He had a look of eagerness in his eyes I found quite intriguing.
Holding my gaze, he gave me the slightest deferential nod, and my grin widened. That’s the spirit. By the time this was over, a line would be drawn, those who stood with me and those who stood against.
“Elias,” a familiar voice called. “Please join us.”
I turned toward the sound and Winston stood just a few yards away, down a dark corridor I hadn’t explored the last time I was here. That visit had been so brief, I’d barely had time to make my intentions known and end a few vampire guards who’d forgotten their place.
“You look well, Winnie,” I said as I strode past him into a massive, circular room.
In the middle of the room stood a raised dais, with a round table in the center and five chairs. The Council of Lords had already gathered and were positioned in each of those seats, which made for a grand entrance—something I’d long ago mastered.
My skin prickled with the presence of my throne, though a quick glance confirmed it was not in this room.
As I walked toward the center, I scanned the walls for another door.
My kind would not put themselves in a room with only one way in and out, but nothing in the walls indicated a second exit or passageway.
No matter, I did love a good game.
Dark, espresso-stained wood lined the walls, wainscotting from the cold cement floor to the dreadfully gauche domed ceiling which had been painted in shades of black and gray to mimic a dark cloudy sky.
Michelangelo this was not.
By the end of this meeting, I hoped it wasn’t splattered with crimson, but then, no one could be sure of today’s outcome. And frankly, a good blood bath could only help the monstrosity painted overhead.
Winston took his seat at the table, and though the way the chairs were positioned around the circular wood table did not indicate a particular head of Council of Lords, it was clear in the set of his shoulders that Winnie was the leader of this merry band of misfits.
Of course he was. My dear friend was nothing if not ambitious.
Sadly, that ambition would cost him more than my benevolence.
“Gentlemen,” I called, tapping along the walls as I circled the room. “Allow me to reintroduce myself.” I scanned the men, noting three from my former guard–shame on them–and one man I’d heard of only in passing but had never had the pleasure.
“Mr. Donati,” I said gleefully as I leapt onto the table and stretched out on my belly in front of him, feet kicked up over my knees and crossed at the ankles. “Your reputation precedes you.” I rested my chin on my hands. “Quite the rise to the top you’ve had, if I may say so myself.”
The crime boss smirked and sat back in his seat, reeking of so much misplaced pride and self-importance that it almost covered up the stink of his offensive cologne. For a vampire, with such a heightened sense of smell, I’d expect him to know better.
Which didn’t bode well for my overall opinion of him.
Not that it was particularly good to begin with. The man was a nuisance.
I detested mafiosos nearly as much as I detested the backstabbing vampires currently circled around this ancient wood table.
The way this particular criminal ran his enterprise was shady and underhanded. And had no place in the future I pictured for my kind—or our mortally-challenged human neighbors.
“Tell me, Carmine,” I said, tipping my head to one side and swinging my feet playfully. “May I call you Carmine?” I didn’t wait for a response. “Where is my throne?”
He swallowed, the motion disappearing in that thick neck of his, then his gaze flicked quickly to his right. To Winston, on my left.
“No, no,” I said, “don’t look at Winnie.
This is the House of Lords . Plural. You are a Lord , are you not?
Equal among your brethren, correct?” I swung my head to face Winnie and rested it on my palm.
“Isn’t that how this works, old friend, or have you truly achieved that level of power for which you always craved? ”
Winston’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer the question. With narrowed eyes, he watched me, waiting.It ate at him, this distinction. He was one of five, but Winston didn’t want to share ; he wanted to rule.
Absolute power and infallible control. Praise. Blind allegiance.
He wanted to be obeyed and feared.
Deified .
Sharing this round table with a ragtag mix of those who once stood by my side and those who’d only heard about me in whispered fairytales meant even in my absence, my old friend had failed to reach the goal.
Sharing this table was his worst nightmare.
My lips quirked up. Nay, his worst nightmare was currently stretched across this shared table.
The poor fool never could accept that he wasn’t of royal blood, and therefore, even in my absence, even after all his scheming and maneuvering, he would never truly be king.
As long as royals still walked the earth, Winston was just an old, sad vampire grasping for whatever scraps were tossed his way.
I sighed as I rose to my feet. It truly was a shame. I’d expected more from the vampire I’d pulled from the grips of Death herself, nurtured back to health, then allowed to find safety by my side.
“Well done, my boy.” I clapped slowly as I strode in a lazy circle around the table.
Stopping in front of Winston’s right-hand man, I lowered into a crouch.
“Frances,” I said with mock disappointment.
“I had expected more from you.” Tsking , I shook my head.
“Such a pity. All of you, such utter disappointments.” Looking at the vampire beside Frances, I said, “Did you know I knew your mother, Micheal?”
His lips curled as his fangs unsheathed.
“Oh, settle down, Mikey.” I chuckled. “She’d be so disappointed in how you turned out, wouldn’t she? God rest her soul.”
With a dramatic sigh, I looked at them all in turn. The younger two, Carmine and smirking at the vampire beside him. “President Geier.”
He cleared his throat. “Greer,” he corrected.
I inclined my head. “My apologies. Your...” Narrowing my eyes, I recalled what I’d learned about him.
“Your grandfather changed it the moment he stepped foot on American soil.” I snorted.
“And understandably so. Geier means vulture in German. Did you know that? I’m sure there’s no correlation to the man sitting before me now.
” I chuckled and he blanched, but he was of no significance to me.
As soon as I stepped back into my rightful place, the political poison he’d inflicted upon the White House would be removed, starting with his festering head, no doubt. But all in good time.
I would give him a chance to rework the treaty and surrender amicably .
See? A gentleman above all else.
The older three vampires, the turncoats behind this offensive Council of Lords , men who once stood by my side and swore their allegiance even as they schemed behind my back, sat like diligent little soldiers, ready and waiting for my next decree. If only they’d shown that same respect back then.
“Micheal, Francis and Winston, ” I said, my voice laced with power. They all straightened in unison, steeled their spines in anticipation of whatever horrific command I might deliver their way.
Oh, how I did like to see them rapt, on the edge of their seats. Hanging on my every word...
“You boys made such avaliant attempt at a rebellion, but you only succeeded because I walked away and allowed it. You do understand that now, don’t you? That I left the kiddies to play and you played at greatness but never quite achieved it.”
“We achieved everything we set out to do!” Winston roared. “We are the Council of Lords!”
“You are Lord of the Flies , at best,” I said drolly. “Boys playing at being men.”
He slapped his hands against the table and pushed up out of his chair. “We are kings among mortals—”
“Blasphemy,” I barked. “How dare you say such things in front of your king?” Before he could back away, I had my hands around his throat.
“You,” I snarled, “are embarrassments to your kind. Babes playing dress up in Mummy’s shoes.
You are role playing, dungeon masters in a board game you cannot win.
You are out of your fucking depths, Winston Connelly. ”
He snarled as he bared his teeth at me, kicking and shoving to get out of my grip. He was strong, of course he was—nearly as ancient as I was—but no match for a born vampire.
No match for a king .
I breathed deeply and straightened to my full height, dragging Winston out of his chair and up onto the table.