Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 154735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Oh, so there’s a list.” Ad cracked his knuckles. “Even better.”
Tohrment stalked around from the back. “What’s going on?”
“The glymera are organizing again.” Diamond eyes, narrowed and nasty, went back down to the glowing screen. “They’ve sent a letter to Wrath about the death of that young male, about the resurgence of lessers. They’re questioning his leadership at the same time we’re cooling our jets in this fucking house, waiting to fight.”
“Strongly worded memos have always been their primary offense,” Tohrment muttered.
“They’re conflating the death of this family’s son and the fact that the Audience House is on pause as evidence that Wrath is unresponsive. For crissakes, we’re working on setting up another location—and like any of those fuckers come to see their King?”
Eddie thought about what had been in that envelope the other night. And how much Wrath clearly cared about his people.
“We made it clear that there’s just been a delay in audiences,” Tohrment said as he curled a fist around one of the black daggers that were holstered to his chest—like it was an unconscious tic. “It’ll be a week, tops. We communicated that in our announcement—”
“They’re calling the Council back into existence.”
“What,” someone else bit out.
As the other Brothers on the first floor pulled in and closed ranks, Vishous showed his screen, not that anybody could see the email or the text or whatever it was. Then he went back to reading aloud.
“Yup, and they are challenging Wrath to try to disband it.”
“There’s no critical mass of them anymore,” another Brother pointed out. “This is bullshit. After the raids, there are what, five families left?”
“Ah, but here’s the kicker.” The laughter that came out of Vishous was as aggressive as a right hook. “They’re going egalitarian. They’re…”
As the words drifted, everyone leaned in—except for Adrian.
The angel abruptly went in the opposite direction, wandering off instead of closing in. Then again, he was known for his short attention span—and really, he was looking to fight, not wallow in the social posturing of vampires.
“They’re opening up their ranks,” V stated.
“I’m sorry, what?” Tohrment asked.
Eddie looked over his shoulder and frowned. Where the hell was Adrian?
“They’re reestablishing their criteria based on net worth. They literally have a financial cutoff—if a bloodline has over that amount, they’re on the Council.”
“Oh, that’ll be fun for them,” Tohrment shot back. “One self-made guy who doesn’t know which fork to use and they’ll throw an embolism. Besides, Wrath might be democratically elected now, but he has all the powers he ever had. He can just disband it again, so the fuck what.”
Vishous frowned and shook his head, falling silent as he continued to read. Then he looked up. “They’re filing a vote of no confidence and going to pass it at their first meeting.”
“There is no such thing—”
“According to them, the very fact that there was an election and Wrath won means that they can dethrone him. And there’s some twenty families involved in this already, going by this list of signatures. It’s a classic power grab with, at least in their view, the resources to back the shit up.”
“Jesus,” somebody muttered. “It never rains but it pours—”
“We have company,” Adrian announced grimly from the library. “Out here on the side lawn, and it’s not FedEx looking for the front door.”
Instantly, guns were in hand, conversation ended, and everybody got ready to fight.
Be careful what you wish for, Eddie thought as he jogged over to his best friend.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
It all started with the cat.
Or rather… the end began with the cat.
Wrath was standing in the doorway to the second story playroom, talking to Beth as L.W. stacked his emotional support blocks, when he heard the first of the meows. The sound was off in the distance, somewhere out in the Hall of Statues, and he didn’t pay much attention at first.
But then it came again.
And again.
Out of habit, he glanced over his shoulder, which was, from a sensory perception perspective, incredibly inefficient. Unsighted, he gained nothing from his eyes pointed in that direction, and he’d turned his ear, which functioned very well indeed, toward the doggen wing, which was where the sound was not coming from.
But old habits dying hard and all that.
“Something wrong?” his shellan asked.
Other than the fact that the vast majority of the brothers and the fighters were out in the field, waiting to fight, while he was stuck in this house like a veal?
“No, it’s just Boo talking,” he murmured.
“That cat. I love him so much.”
Wrath thought back to the first time he’d gone to see his Beth. Darius, her father, had enlisted him to ensure she made it through her transition. As a half-breed, she was in danger of dying when the change hit, and with Wrath’s pure blood, she had a much better chance of surviving. The kicker? She’d had no idea what she was. There’d been a hope she wouldn’t flip over to her sire’s side, but want in one hand, shit in the other, as the saying went.