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He led me out to a large common area where his collective of minions were seated, awaiting his attention or whims or something weird and creepy like that.
I’d never adjusted to being in command of people. As queen of a werewolf pack and one of the Tribunal leaders, I had a great deal of power and control at my fingertips, and sometimes I wielded it, but typically it felt creepy and wrong. I guess being the council’s bitch for so long made it strange for me to suddenly be one of their three most powerful members.
Seeing all these vampires and humans sitting back awaiting Peyton’s attention, as if they were nothing more than puppies hoping to prove their obedience for a pat on the head, made me sick to my stomach. Where was their individual strength? Where was their will to function on their own?
I swallowed hard when one of the guards prodded me in the spine, and we continued to follow Peyton.
The benches formed uniform half-circles on either side of a wide-open section in the middle of the room. Everyone seemed to be facing towards the center. I scanned the group for a sign of Desmond, and my heart sank when I didn’t spot him. The guards who had dragged him off were sitting front and center, staring at us as we walked in.
If they were here, who was watching him?
Maybe he no longer needed to be watched.
My belly hurt. If something had happened to Desmond while I was off having my tête-à-tête with Peyton, I would make them pay. All of them. I’d go down swinging in a bloodbath that would be talked about for decades to come.
Provided any of them made it out alive.
“This woman has come here to kill me,” Peyton announced, his accent-heavy voice filling the low room in a potent and dramatic way. With the dim lighting and the black-clad henchmen, this felt like a scene out of some cultish horror movie.
The group muttered amongst themselves, and a few laughed.
I knew exactly what their laughter meant, though it had been quite some time since anyone had been bold enough to do it within earshot. Back in my vampire-slaying days, the monsters used to get a kick out of me. They called me Buffy a lot. That’s what I got for being a petite blonde who kicked undead ass, I guess.
They tended to stop laughing once I killed them.
Funny how hard it can be to get out a good belly chuckle when your head has been cut off.
“Normally, we just dispose of would-be assassins. That’s why I have you all here. The best of the best.”
More murmurs, these containing elevated tones of pride and accompanied by some good-natured backslapping.
Jesus, I’d walked into a vampire frat house. At least they stopped short of high-fiving each other.
“But this woman is different. Many of you have lived in Europe your whole life, so her face will not be familiar to you, but I’m sure you know her name. Tell the group your name, dear.”
Goodie, we were playing show-and-tell. Fine. “My name is Secret McQueen.”
There’d been a time when I got a lot of joy out of telling vamps my name and seeing their reactions to it. The name carried more weight than my frame seemed to imply I warranted.
Everyone in the room had gone silent, and they were now staring at me instead of Peyton.
Apparently I was big in France too.
“She is the rogue-slayer,” a man in the front row said. “Shouldn’t we kill her?”
“Eventually.” Peyton lifted a hand to silence any further questions. “Secret and I, we’re old friends.” He tongued the gap where his fang had once been, and the whole room understood his meaning.
Peyton fell in beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I think he’d meant to put his arm around me but thought better of it when he remembered the sword.
“Before Secret gets her chance to kill me, and you will get the chance, dear, I think we should test her mettle. See if she deserves the fair shot.”
A few joyous hoots went up from the crowd. Why did I get the feeling things were about to go very, very badly for me?
Oh, right. Because they always did.
A grinding noise drew my attention back to the center of the floor where a huge metal disc was being pulled from over a hole. The pit being revealed inch by inch was deep enough I couldn’t see the bottom. I wasn’t a big fan of being tossed into dark holes. That rarely panned out well.
One of the guards kicked me from behind, and I stumbled forward, landing at the edge of the drop. These guys watched too many movies. If he shouted, This is Sparta, before punting me in, I would be seriously annoyed.
