AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I took a deep breath, ready to do the full Daenerys Targaryen Mother of Dragons speech on his ass, when a calm, Southern female voice said, “She is Special Director Secret McQueen of the FBI, werewolf Queen of the East, pack Princess of the South, and former Tribunal leader of the East. Elliott, you will show the lady the proper respect she deserves for her position.”
The man ducked his head in a quick bow. “Yes, Tribunal Leader Clementine. My sincerest apologies for the grave offense.” He bowed again to me, but a glimmer in his eyes told me he wasn’t sorry at all and didn’t see me as someone to respect.
Shithead.
The other woman apologized and sounded a hell of a lot nicer about it. They both scuttled off to their desks, and I suspected they’d get a bit of a lecture about this later on. Being a warden was grunt work at best, and they tended to get kicked in the dirt by vampire society in general.
But that was the system. You took your thankless licks and did what you were asked, and if you were a good little bloodsucker, you became a sentry, and maybe even an elder.
I had been the highest of the high. I had once been a member of the vampire Tribunal, something you could only accomplish by killing one of the seated members.
I’d done it by accident.
The woman in front of me had very much done it on purpose, though I doubted her goal had been to claim a seat of power. She just really wanted to kill the guy whose job she took.
“Clementine,” I greeted warmly.
She took my hands in hers then kissed each of my cheeks in greeting. “Secret, dahling, it’s so wonderful to see you again.” Clem was a stunner. She had a sharp, angular face that was offset beautifully by her pixie-cut white-blonde hair. She forever appeared as if she was laughing at a joke no one else was in on. Even as I looked at her now, her lip was lifted in a smirk.
“I’m afraid I’m here on business.”
“Of course you are. Come along with me, then. We’ll go visit the others.” She linked her arm through mine, and we walked towards the elevator. It was awkward, given she was a fair bit taller than me and built like a Victoria’s Secret runway model, but we managed to make it work.
I was eternally grateful I’d gone home to change before coming here though, because she was wearing a beautiful, slinky silver dress, and if I’d still been in sweatpants and Tyler’s top, I would want to kill myself.
As it was, I was wearing jeans, my brimstone-singed Chloe boots—no, I hadn’t given up on them yet—and a plain gray scoop-neck shirt. I looked presentable, but she looked like she was about to hand out the Oscar for Best Achievement in Sound Editing or something.
We boarded the elevator, and she released my arm but stayed close to me, her shoulder pressed against mine. I had known Clem a long time but still felt like I didn’t know her at all. She was the definition of enigmatic, and every time I thought I might be able to consider her a friend, I had to wonder if the Clementine I knew was the real her, or just a pretty invention she put on.
The elevator went to the basement level, something that really shouldn’t exist in downtown L.A., and we found ourselves in the ruins of an old hotel lobby, one that had sunk beneath the streets during a particularly brutal earthquake and had since been forgotten by time and local lore.
Clementine guided us down a hall until we were in a simple chamber, and I stood facing three chairs. One, of course, was vacant, and Clementine drifted over to it to claim her rightful place.
The other two members of the West Coast Tribunal gave me tight smiles. “Ms. McQueen,” said Galen, the true leader of the group.
“Tribunal Leader Galen,” I greeted politely. I then nodded to the woman on his other side. “Tribunal Leader Eilidh.” I pronounced the Gaelic name perfectly as Aye-leigh. I’d practiced.
“You have business for us?” Galen asked, his tone clipped. I got the distinct feeling they weren’t thrilled about being at the beck and call of some random human, no matter who she had once been.
“Yes, there’s something I think it’s important you know. That is if you didn’t know it already.”
Eilidh spoke in a soft but amused voice. “If I didn’t know better, I would say she was accusing us of something.”
Where Clementine looked poised and lovely, Eilidh looked every ounce the political figurehead. She was, as usual, sporting navy blue, which made her black hair look all the darker in contrast and made her deep-blue eyes pop. Her hair was down today, which was her version of playing it wild and carefree.
Get it, girl.
Galen was Eilidh’s brother and had similarly dark hair and eyes, but was all square-jawed masculinity compared to her dainty feminine features. Swear to God, Galen could have played Superman in a heartbeat, as he just oozed easy power and otherworldly handsomeness.
Clementine worked well as a foil to them. The vampire she’d replaced, Arturo, had been similarly blond, and it did the Tribunal good to have a little diversity in their midst.
No one here had cried when Clem had killed him. Arturo’s death had been necessary, and I didn’t say that solely because he’d set me up to have me killed. I wasn’t a fan of the guy, but someone willing to sell out vampires to a madman was someone who couldn’t be in charge of anything in our society. That’s just common sense. Too often vampire leaders were secretly nutcases—the East Coast Tribunal was not exempt from this—and we were all better off with Arturo gone.
I could still remember the moment Clementine killed him. One minute he’d been threatening a warden, and the next minute, in a fit of annoyance, Clem had broken his neck. Just like that. She hadn’t liked his attitude or behavior, so she killed him.
The funny thing about it was that that kind of decisive action was probably what made her a perfect fit for being a Tribunal leader.
At least it looked like she was fitting in right at the moment.
