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If I knew anything at all about Derek, this wasn’t the totality of the Pack’s forces in the building. They would have people stashed on the roof, on the floor below, in the parking lot.
“No need for everyone to die,” I murmured.
Curran nodded at Derek. “Clear the building. Take our people out.”
He didn’t even blink. “Yes, Lord.”
“Everyone, Derek,” I added. “A complete recall.”
“Yes, Consort.” He turned to the shapeshifters. “Full evac.”
They turned and took off toward the stairs. He followed them, his voice raised, talking to people with supernatural hearing above and below us. “Full evac. I repeat, full evac. Clear the building.”
The journeymen looked at each other. One of them, a young girl with red hair, barely a woman, ran toward the door at the far end of the hallway. Curran and I followed. We weren’t in a hurry. We wanted to give our people enough time to leave Lakeside.
The hallway ended. Curran pushed the door open and walked into the room. A hundred feet long and about half as wide, the room housed two long tables, one at the left wall and the other at the right, each covered with a tablecloth, the floor between them empty. The alphas of the Pack Council sat on the right. The People sat on the left. I saw familiar faces, Mahon and Martha, Raphael, Desandra . . . Everyone was here.
We took our seats. I reached under the table and squeezed Curran’s hand. He squeezed back.
“We’re about to be attacked,” Curran said.
“We know,” Mahon said.
Across the room, the seven Masters of the Dead gaped at me, each holding two vampires arranged in a precise line against the wall behind them. Six familiar faces, and one new, an older man with gray hair. The red-headed journeyman was whispering to Ghastek. He glared at us and waved her off. “I don’t care who Lennart pulled out of the building.”
The gray-haired man rose, walked over, and knelt on the floor directly across from me. Oops. Looks like I sat down too soon.
“Sharrim.”
I’d heard his voice before. When we tried to escape Hugh’s burning castle, before Aunt B died, Hugh had sent vampires after me. I had slaughtered the undead, ruining the minds of the navigators who had piloted them, but I left one alive. When that vampire had spoken to me, it spoke in this man’s voice.
The People stared at us. Rowena was blinking rapidly, stunned. Ghastek leaned forward, focused on me with a laser’s precision. I wondered what Landon had told him. Maybe nothing. Wouldn’t that be funny?
“Sharrim,” the man repeated.
Showtime. I got up and walked over to him. He looked up at me, his hands folded on his lap.
“You are young,” the Master of the Dead said. “You have the power, but lack control. Think of all the things he could teach you. Think of the secrets that would open to you.”
I felt a power gathering beyond the walls of Lakeside, like a distant storm flashing with lightning on the horizon. The windows didn’t permit me a view of the sky, but I bet it churned with storm clouds. My father was coming.
“Think of what you could become.”
Oh, I was thinking about it. I did nothing but think about it the whole time it took me to get from Jester Park to Atlanta.
The arcane storm drew closer, terrible, swirling with power currents.
There were twenty-two vampires in the immediate vicinity. Six in the hallway, twelve in the room, and four in the adjacent room.
It would have to be enough. There was one power I didn’t demonstrate to my father. It was about time.
“There is no need to fight a battle that can’t be won.”
The storm swelled just outside the building, about to break on us.
“Think of who you are.”
The hurricane of magic burst. Lightning flashed outside the narrow windows and smashed into the wall in front of me. The stone cracked. I grabbed the vampires and pulled them to me. The navigators’ minds kicked and bucked like runaway horses. Rowena cried out. The Masters of the Dead pulled back, struggling to keep control.
I opened my mouth. “Hesaad.” Mine.
The power word tore from me, cracking like a whip. The navigators’ resistance vanished. The Master of the Dead in front of me got to his feet and pressed himself flat against the left wall. The vampires streamed to me.
The wall in front of me split open. Chunks of stone moved back, away from me, held apart, hung in the air for a long moment, and plunged down. The sky was black and gray with the full fury of a storm, and below the clouds, the sunset bled onto the sky. Icy wind bathed me, tugged my hair.
The mass of vampires circled me, forming an undead maelstrom around my feet.
Golden light burst into the space where the wall had been. Tendrils of pale smoke rose from it. The wall of light shimmered with yellow and white as if someone had ripped away a chunk of the sun’s corona and thrust it into Lakeside. My father’s face filled it, enormous, his eyes blazing with power.
His voice shook the tower. “DAUGHTER.”
I looked into the power roaring into my face. “Father.”
“Father?” someone squeaked to the left. Ghastek might have just had a heart attack.
Power reverberated through Lakeside, shaking the stone. “COME TO ME. STAND BY MY SIDE.”
The light and flame surged forth and I saw myself wearing crimson armor. A golden crown rested on my head. I looked like my grandmother.
I pushed with my power and the vampiric heads surrounding me exploded. Undead blood flooded the floor. I raised my left arm and sliced across it with Sarrat. My blood streamed down, mixing with the dark ruby liquid by my feet. My magic shot through the undead blood like fire down a detonation cord. The undead blood streamed to me, pliant and obedient. It curved around my feet, coating my clothes, slid over my arms, and drained down Sarrat, widening the blade as it coated the saber in crimson.
“TAKE YOUR PLACE.”
“No.”
The blood armor surged up, sheathing my body. The image of me wearing a crown burst and shattered.
I raised my head. “This is my city. Get out.”
The coronal fire in front of me swelled. A spear shot out, colossal, forged of golden light and power, aiming at me. The claiming.
I lunged, swinging my new blood sword. Sarrat connected with the spear.
Magic revolted, bursting and screaming around me. The impact nearly took me off my feet. It was like playing tug-of-war with a tornado. The blade shook and shuddered in my hands.
The spear of power pushed. The enormity of my father’s magic pressed on me, crushing me, grinding my bones into dust. Pain started from the tips of my fingers and washed down over me. I burned. From the top of my head to the soles of my feet, I burned. My eyes couldn’t see any damage, but my senses screamed that my skin was bubbling from the heat.
