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I didn’t bother knocking at the council suite—I just pushed the doors open.
Sometimes you have one of those moments where you come into a room and everyone stops talking all at once, making you absolutely certain they’ve recently been talking about you. This was like that, but a million times worse since everyone was staring at the door and no one had been talking to begin with.
Brigit stood in the circle of light in the middle of the room, wearing a simple black dress and leather ballet flats. Her hair was pushed away from her face with a headband and hung in a long, flaxen sheet down her back. I smiled apologetically and walked past her to cross the floor.
“I’m sorry, Secret, did we inconvenience you?” Juan Carlos said. Was it me or did his sneer seem deeper than ever tonight?
I sneered right back but didn’t rise to the bait. I saw what had happened last time I let him get my goat in public, and I wasn’t about to repeat those mistakes. Tonight wasn’t about my pride, however wounded it had become over the last few days. Tonight was about Brigit.
Taking my place next to Sig, I addressed the gathered elders. “My apologies for the lateness of my arrival. I trust you weren’t waiting too long?”
Rebecca rose and gave the three of us each a bow. “We are, as always, at the leisure of the Tribunal. No apology is necessary.”
Take that, Juan Carlos. The elders would never in a million years admit a Tribunal leader had put them out in any way. I didn’t bother to look at the Spaniard. I’d stuck it to him without even speaking to him directly.
“Then if there are no further delays or complaints,” Sig said, deflating my feeling of victory with the jab of his words, “may we please continue?”
Much of what we’d gone over at the previous meeting was rehashed, and Juan Carlos made a point of voicing his opposition loudly and often, but in the end this wasn’t up to us. It was up to the elders. After an hour of intense discussion, they requested to be left alone with Brigit.
In the damp, dark hall I stood next to Sig while Juan Carlos paced like a caged wildcat.
“If this goes through…” he growled.
“Yes, Juan Carlos, please tell me. What sort of life-altering changes to the council do you believe this will cause?” Sig was leaning against the stone wall, looking for all the world like he didn’t have a single shit to give about the outcome of this situation.
“It sets a dangerous precedence.”
“How?” I snapped.
“It shows the council your progeny have special favor.”
“My progeny?” I turned from Juan Carlos to Sig. “What the ever loving fuck is he talking about?”
“For all intents and purposes, the council considers Brigit to be your offspring.”
“But she was turned by—”
Sig silenced me with a look so cold a shiver danced down my spine. “It doesn’t matter who turned her, Secret, not anymore. To the council she is yours.”
“But—”
“Because if she was the offspring of anyone else, say a known rogue, she might suffer the same fate as her creator. So it’s a good thing she isn’t.”
I’d never asked what had become of the other girls Peyton had turned. The prostitutes, the ones no one cared about. I’d stopped thinking about them the moment his case had been closed. It never occurred to me they might be killed because of who their sire was.
Sig had told the council Brigit was mine.
That’s why she was assigned to me. Why she was allowed to live.
And it didn’t hurt that it convinced the council my vampire half was strong enough to turn others. He’d saved Brigit and made the elders believe I was more of a vampire than I really was. Juan Carlos knew the truth, but was using the outcome of the lie against me.
I shut up.
Maybe he was right. I hadn’t intended to give Brigit an edge because people thought of her as my child, but I’d hoped I could give her an edge because she was my ward. The difference between the two was so slim the edges started to blur together. Could I say I wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing if she really were my creation?
No. Whether I’d turned her or not, I would be fighting just as hard.
Sig, seeming to read the thoughts right out of my mind, put one of his large hands on my shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “It is standard for Tribunal leaders to send their progeny to other councils. To make the decision more fair. My own children, those who are based in the states, are mostly on the West Coast. Juan Carlos’s chose to remain in Europe for the most part, but he has a handful in Arizona and Texas. Even the elders tend to send their offspring to other councils.”
