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“Garrick and Lucas were here when the Great Council were.”
“No.” Cord refused to believe it was either of his mentors. “Was that the last time that Rorik was here?”
“I do not recall.”
Cord’s head whipped around, and he looked to the direction he had sent Jameis. “Velvore’s trickery!” he hissed as he ran down the corridor.
“Cord!” Sloane shouted from behind him, but it was no use, his brother was running towards the kitchens. “Come on before he kills him!” Sloane called to Kallie.
“What?” Kallie squeaked as she followed the two brothers in alarm.
“Cord, wait!” Sloane shouted. His brother ignored him as he was prone to do, as he disappeared out of sight. Sloane found the two Castors in an old teaching room where Cord had his hand around Jameis’s throat. “Brother, no,” Sloane cautioned. “Think.”
“Why are you here?” Cord demanded.
“You asked me to help!” Jameis spluttered as he looked towards Sloane pleadingly.
“Why were you here before that?”
“I was called.”
“By who?” Cord’s grip tightened as he glared down at the Pure Castor. “Who? Who called you?”
“Talia Holt!” Jameis shouted into the empty corridor. Cord shoved the other Castor away from him and, moving quickly, dusted Jameis with the green powder. Waiting for a mere moment, he grabbed the Castor again. “Talk.”
“Cord?” Salem came running up with several Elites. “What are you doing? Stand down!”
“He was spelled,” Cord told the Principal Elder scathingly. “It seems you all have been. WhereisMichael?” he demanded again.
Cord froze as he felt it. “No,” he whispered, concentrating internally on his Flare.
“Cord?” Sloane asked with a worried look to Salem at the complete change in his brother.
Cord!The pulse came again.
“No!” Cord shouted out in frustration, making several Elites jump. Cord grabbed his brother with one hand, and then he and Sloane portalled to where his Flare was screaming for him to go.
They landed in the middle of a fierce battle, and it was only due to his little brother’s quick wits, that Sloane’s sword intercepted the swipe of talons that arched down for Cord. Cord looked around wildly for Tegan. Grabbing Sloane again, he spun them both.
“Stay with me, brother, I am unarmed,” Cord shouted as he made his way to his mate, who seemed to be fighting off three Drakhyn simultaneously.What fresh hell had she gotten herself into this time?
Leonid lay against the wall. His back was twisted, his legs lay spread, and his head was at an unnatural angle. Leonid sat up carefully, shaking his head to clear it. As he drew his legs up, his head fell on them in exhaustion. Exhaustion? That couldn’t be right; he hadn’t felt exhaustion since 1543. His hands felt his face, and then in a move he hadn’t done for a very long time, he rubbed his eyes. Like he had just woken up.
Hehadjust woken up. Leonid snapped to his feet. He was as close to being immortal as a Vampyre could get. They did not sleep. They did not feel pain. They did not become...exhausted. The Darkness had caused him pain. The Darkness had made him pass out from the pain, and then he hadslept? What trickery was this? It had to be a spell. Leonid rolled his head on his shoulders as he turned slowly in his dark cell.
It was here. Watching. Waiting.
“What are you waiting for?” Leonid asked it. His hands ran over his clothing. He had not been washed in so long the fabric felt gritty and grubby. “I cannot get out. Why cause me pain?” His head tilted in the dark as he continued to turn slowly. “You tried to poison my mind against my comrades, but I cannot be poisoned. Mind or otherwise.” Leonid smiled into the blackness. “I should thank you for the sleep though. I have not done that for a long time.”
He felt the Darkness pulse as if angry. “You are frustrated?” Leonid guessed. “I understand that. I too am frustrated. I want out, and I think you want to let me out.”
He felt the change in the air again and slowly pulled his hair off his face. A bath would be delightful, he mused wryly. He remembered the times he would have to chase Tegan to hurry up and get out of the bath after she had been in there for hours. She sometimes took her Reflection in a bath. She said she was at peace there, her mind empty. Her thoughts truly with the Ancients as she sought their blessings on her training and her life so she could serve them better.
“I have thought on this for as long as you have kept me in here, and although I assume I am to be flattered with the attention, I do not know why I am in here.” Leonid sat back down again and crossed his legs to get comfortable. He faced a direction in the nothingness as if sharing an evening with an old friend. “I am not important,” Leonid reasoned. “I know it is not a common concept to appreciate one’s self-worth as...lacking, but I am not important to you. The only thing that could be important to you is my daughter.” He sensed the shift again in the atmosphere, and he ploughed on. “However, as her father would be quick to remind me, she is not myactualdaughter. I did not sire her.” Leonid felt it again, and understanding washed over him. “You want me to Turn my daughter?” he asked softly.
He felt nothing. His hand propped up his head as he considered the possibilities. “If Tegan were Made, she would be of no use to your cause. Vampyres do not play well with Drakhyn,” Leonid mused. “No, you do not want her a Vampyre. But you do wanther.” Again the shift in the air. “I wonder why you would need her. To breed?” Leonid’s stomach turned in the quiet of his cell. “She cannot,” he told the silence. “A stag gored her in an accident five years ago. I found her bleeding to death in the snow. Wounds from a Drakhyn attack and wounds from the animal.” Leonid felt the familiar sadness as he thought about it. “I only barely saved her. But young she cannot have.” His eyes sharpened in the black. “She will not bear your spawn. No female can survive it anyway, so why would you waste her for that? Even if she could?”
Leonid’s head snapped to the right as his skin tingled. “What was that?” he asked softly. “You think a female would survive? What have you done?” His voice was barely audible.
