Chapter 312: Sebastian's Aid
I was so excited I found myself vibrating with a mix of thrill and fear as Sebastian handed Uncle Frank over to Anastasia and strode through the entry of the house on his way to the Council chamber. It was quite late, or early depending on your undead status, and I knew we were running out of night time. Not that it seemed to stop Sebastian or even slow him down.
And I thought Sunny was scary when she was pissed. He'd retained enough of his angel- of-death power his deadly allure still remained. Doors opened, sleepy witches looking out only to be snared by his energy and drawn forward. Even the Enforcers who rushed out to stop him appeared suddenly awestruck the moment they entered his sphere of influence. They followed him in a line, like the fabled rats behind the Pied Piper, pulled by the call of his vampire magic. I felt it too, though I was no longer compelled to obey it and wondered about the refreshed bite inside me the virus had awakened.
Later. So much later. I had Mom to save.
The secretary met us at the first chamber door, dressed in a silly robe and slippers, his glasses askew, thinning hair standing on end and waving around him like an unhappy spider web.
Before he could open his mouth to protest, Sebastian brushed him aside, the contact causing the little man to swoon. He too followed then, joining the growing group of witches who staggered in to the Council chamber, gathering around the tall, glowing form of the vampire leader as he mounted the raised platform. The other doorway slammed open, Council members rushing outward with total shock on their faces, Batsheva and Dominic the last to enter as Sebastian took the Council leader's seat and crossed his legs-blushing!-fingers steepled before him.
"And what exactly," he said in a voice that chilled the air and making me shudder, "are you doing in my house?"
No one said a word. I'd never heard such quiet. I think the bulging of Batsheva's eyes was the most satisfying of all. So her spy hadn't made it back in time to warn her.
What a pity.
"You're sitting in my chair." She recovered quickly, voice sharp.
"No," he said. "You're standing on my property. And I want you off of it." He stood then, looked around like he literally owned the place, regal and god-like despite his tattered clothing.
He really had to find something new to wear.
His energy rippled outward, claiming the mansion for his own. This was it. We'd done it. Batsheva didn't have a leg to stand on.
Until Sebastian's white magic encountered the Council energy in the seals of the room. And bounced off as if unable to break through.
"You own this house, that much is true," Batsheva said, confidence renewed as Sebastian's power recoiled and returned to him, pooling at his feet. "But I own this room. And unless you can claim it, this trial will continue and we will remain."
Damn her. I felt panic rise inside me, reached for Sebastian.
Can I help? I didn't know how, but I could tell behind the stony façade of his expression he was thinking madly.
No. His mental voice was sad. I'm sorry, Syd. She's somehow linked herself to this room. It's as she said. I can remove the witches from the rest of the mansion, but she has claim to this one place. And I have no idea how she's done it.
Lovely. Just freaking lovely.
"Very well then," Sebastian said. "I'm sure all of your gathered witches will enjoy crowding into this one room for the duration of the trial." He didn't back down a bit, even smiled slightly. "I can be gracious and offer to have sleeping bags brought in here if you'd like."
Ha. Good for him. No one looked very happy at the prospect.
"Lord DeWinter." Violet stepped forward, her power offered to him on her glowing hands. He accepted her show of friendship though I saw her shudder when he touched her and knew she probably regretted her offer. "This trial is of utmost importance to the High Council. The fate of one of our leaders is at stake."
"And how is that my problem, dear lady?" While he gently bent and kissed the back of her hand, his mind touched mine again. How would you like me to proceed?
Good question. Part of me would have loved to see them all perched, miserable and afraid, inside the room waiting for the trial to resume.
"We beg your hospitality for the duration," Violet said. Weird having two conversations at once. I really should have been used to it by now. "And your forgiveness for this terrible mess."
Oh, let them stay, Gram sighed to him through me. Maybe it will earn us brownie points. We've obviously lost this round. She didn't sound very happy about it.
As you wish.
Sebastian straightened and smiled his devastatingly handsome smile, making the room full of mostly female witches sigh over him. I had to avert my eyes from some embarrassing bare places showing through his rags as he spoke.
"Very well," he said. "But only because you ask so kindly." He kissed Violet's hand again, making her titter and blush herself, still clutching her pink robe to her chest though I caught her eyes wandering over his delicious body.
Who knew Violet was a dirty old lady?
That made Gram cackle.
"Of course," Sebastian said in his smooth voice, a low thrum of chastisement in his tone, "had we simply been approached as equals, asked for our assistance, I can assure you such aid would have been granted without question. It has always been the aim of the vampire nation to co-exist in peace with our fellow magical species." His eyes settled on Batsheva again, the timbre of his voice shifting to that of a father lecturing his errant child. "This entire situation could have been avoided. Instead, in a stroke of arrogance, you have led your people to within moments of war. I expect you to consider your actions from this moment forward, High Council Leader. I will be observing with absolute attention as you continue these proceedings in my home."
I wanted to laugh out loud at the expression on Batsheva's face. So angry, so frustrated. But she didn't talk back. Neither did she show any indication she gave a crap. But the rest of us got his message loud and clear.
Bad Batsheva. Go to your room.
Sebastian retreated, Sunny at his side, his power going with him.
I'll do what I can, witch girl, he sent as he left. I only wish I could have ended this for you here and now.
Thank you, I sent back as I turned and left myself, frustrated we'd come so close. I'm just happy you're okay.
His power embraced me before it vanished.
How did she do it? Gram's voice was soft in my head, as if she'd forgotten we were still connected. I have to find out. This shouldn't be possible.
Is there anything I can do? I reached for her, but she pulled away.
Go home. Sleep. I need you sharp tomorrow.
Sleep. Yup, that sounded good.
I exited the mansion into the cool early morning air, feeling the sun coming and knowing the vampires were now most likely safe in their sleeping places. I fretted over the Enforcers who watched them, but there wasn't much I could do about it at the moment.
When Sebastian's power surged against me, sealing the house, I suddenly realized I didn't have to worry.
He'd keep them safe. And the elements preserve whoever tried to disturb them again.
Someone moved in my peripheral vision and I turned my head quickly, expecting the spy in the black robe. I stood there a moment, letting my power reach out, searching for my watcher. Nothing. No one. Only the quiet night, the hum of magic and the scent of the earth. I sighed and let myself relax before calling on my demon to take us home.
It was as simple to return as it was to leave. The veil expelled me at the corner of the family wards which I slipped past without being spotted, though I realized then it didn't matter much. Batsheva knew I'd eluded her guards. I trudged to the back door, opening it as quietly as I could, my power reaching inside for my family.
Quaid's mind found mine first. His soft, sad touch was enough to break my heart.
He waited for me in the kitchen, Sassafras at his side, Charlotte silent, and Galleytrot, big head drooping in grief, leaning into Quaid's side. The dog's eyes were dark, not a flicker of red fire within, only a deep and endless sadness drawing a short, harsh cry from my throat.
"Alison," I croaked.
"I found her," he whispered.
***
