With Daci at her elbow, Tatiana entered and steeled her mind against any potential invasion from Svetla or Grigor. Daci would be doing the same. No one in this house was to be trusted. She shrugged out of her fur and handed it off to a servant, but kept her gloves on and her metal prosthesis covered. Being here meant she was missing Samhain in Paradise City. A night in which she could have gathered residual power in bundles. A night in which she could have at last been victorious against the comarré. But no, she was here at the council’s whim. If things did not go her way, she would break from the nobility and their rules and do as she damn well pleased. “Hello to you, too, Svetla. I’m not sure which is paler, the snow covering the ground or your skin. Perhaps you should feed.”
Svetla sniffed. “Why am I not surprised a gypsy fails to understand the beauty of porcelain skin?”
Tatiana let the gypsy comment roll off her and turned to Daci. “Svetla is the Elder of the House of Rasputin. She was the second female Elder to ever be appointed.”
Having already been briefed with this information, Daci smiled at Svetla as though she were about to speak to someone with a head wound. “It must be difficult for you.”
“What must be?” Svetla asked.
“The constant comparison,” Daci answered. “Being in the shadow of someone like Tatiana. What a high bar to reach.”
Svetla scowled, gave Daci a dismissive glare, then turned and strode off down the hall. Tatiana followed, giving Daci a wink. What a treasure this one was turning out to be. Tatiana had never had a sister in her human life, only brothers who’d treated her like a servant. Impulsively, she reached out and gave Daci’s hand a squeeze.
Daci responded by mocking Svetla’s hip-swaying walk, making Tatiana cough to cover up a sudden laugh. She smiled. A rare, genuine smile. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt this way. Her hand found the locket around her neck. Yes, she could. It had been many, many years ago.
They rounded the corner, turning down the hall that led to the council meeting room. Svetla stopped them before the doors. “I’ll go in and see if they’re ready for you.”
Pompous git. “They’re ready.” Tatiana pushed past and swung into the room. The Dominus were all there, seated as before with their Elders behind them. She made a shallow curtsy. The pressure of Grigor’s mental probing tested her walls. What arrogance. “My lords, I apologize for my late arrival, but I understand you were made aware of my situation.”
Svetla rushed in behind Daci. “I’m sorry, my lords. She barged in before I could announce her. And her guest.” Svetla cut her eyes at Daci.
Lord Syler raised his hand. “It’s all right. We were expecting her, after all.” He gestured to an empty chair at the table. “Please be seated, Tatiana. Your guest will have to wait outside. At least until our matter is taken care of.”
“Of course. My guest, Daciana Bracey, is an upstanding member of the House of Tepes. If I ascend to Dominus, she will become Elder.” Tatiana turned, nodding to Daci to indicate that it was all right to wait outside. She bent her head in response and left. Tatiana took her seat, pleased that the council’s attitude seemed more… mellow toward her. It wasn’t a word she’d ever thought to associate with this group of musty old males, but whatever had brought the change about, she liked it. Perhaps this was a good omen that she was about to achieve the position she’d been striving for.
“Already appointing an Elder?” Lord Zephrim snorted loudly. “As always, you assume too much.”
She gave him a full-on stare that had reduced lesser vampires to bumbling fools. Of course, in Zephrim’s case, he already had the fool part down. “I’ve only assumed that the council is ready to give me an answer. If that’s not the case, why else have you called me here with such urgency?”
Svetla took her seat behind Lord Grigor as he spoke. “You assume correctly. The ancient one was located. He told us to bring you back, then summon him so he might announce his decision.”
At last. Tatiana’s joy threatened to bubble over into something very unbecoming. She looked down for a moment to compose herself.
Grigor laughed softly, an unpleasant sound that grated on her nerves. “You should be worried. The ancient one seemed more agitated than usual.”
She held still for a few long seconds. Was this not going to turn out the way she thought? If the ancient one was upset with her… She’d had no communication with him in some time. And she still didn’t have the ring or the comarré. Her joy evaporated and she lifted her head, resolved to whatever might happen. “I’m sure the ancient one only wishes, like I do, to be done with this endless waiting. As I have said before, I will abide by whatever they decide. May the ancient ones be served.”
The others recited the words in unison. “May the ancient ones be served.”
Lord Timotheius raised his wineglass toward Grigor. “As we are still in your house, the privilege to call them falls upon you.”
He nodded stiffly. “Of course. It is my honor.”
Tatiana pursed her mouth against a laugh. An honor that made him tremble.
Grigor stood, outstretched his arms, his palms up. With a deep sigh and a slow blink, he spoke. “Castus Sanguis, hear your children. Come to us and grace us with thy presence.”
Unlike the last time Grigor had called the ancient ones, Tatiana wasn’t disappointed. A great flash of light and the sharp piercing sourness of brimstone and unwashed flesh shattered the air at the room’s far end. Smoke billowed up around the towering Samael, his body clad from the waist down in a skirt of shadows shifting with faces and limbs. From the waist up, his skin was a shiny, dark red, like dried meat.