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Dane scrambled to his feet the moment he saw them. “What are you doing here?”
“I should ask you the same.” Christian glanced dispassionately at the plebe, and Delilah staggered back. He read her misunderstanding. She assumed this witch, in her bondage and blindfold, was Dane’s sister. “This is one of the bishop’s guests.”
She looked up at him in shock. Why is she bound like that?
He silently gave her the short version. She’s a witch who tried to burn an elder’s firstborn alive. He’s been ill and under her spell for two years. When she decides to cooperate and reverse the curse, we’ll set her free.
Dane took in Delilah’s discomfort and frowned. “Are you okay?”
Christian growled. “Do not speak to my mate.” Giving the troublesome boy no more of his time, he steered Delilah down the long corridor toward the rattling chains and snarls.
“Stay to my left,” he instructed, keeping a firm hand on her arm.
A shrill scream rent the air as Cybil flung her body against the bars of her cell. Delilah jumped back, and a low growl purred from the shadowed prison at the end.
Christian directed Delilah to face the cell from a safe distance. “Look at what happens when our blood is misused.”
The deranged girl screamed with blood-curdling hysteria. Her shift was filthy and shredded to her stomach. When she climbed the bars, she exposed herself and hissed.
Chains rattled from Isaiah’s cell, diverting his mate’s horrified appraisal. He caught Delilah’s chin. “Not there. That cell isn’t for your eyes. This is what I want you to see.” He pointed her attention back to the rabid girl.
A threatening roar shook the bars when Christian stared at the deranged female. Isaiah threw himself into the wall separating the cells.
The hole Dane had described was evident and worrisome, something Christian would address with The Council. They couldn’t leave such an opening. It wasn’t safe.
Another roar. Isaiah’s filthy hands closed around the bars, heavy iron cuffs bolted tightly to his wrists. Delilah sucked in a sharp breath and backed into the wall.
Isaiah snarled and snapped his jaws, aggravated by their presence.
“What is he?”
She should know the truth. “He’s vampire."
“Why is he here, in this cell?” Her eyes were wide, taking in the tattered remains of what was once his friend. The longer they stared the more overwrought the two prisoners became.
“His name is Isaiah Hartzler.”
“Hartzler as in Destiny, Anna, Gracie, Cain, and Adam?”
“Yes, and Larissa, who is now mated to our bishop. Isaiah was their uncle, an honored elder amongst The Order, and my close friend.”
She looked up at him, empathy pouring from her wide eyes. “What happened to him?”
“His calling went unanswered. He failed to find his mate and never completed the bonding. He went mad.”
Deep compassion radiated from her as she stared into the shadows at Isaiah’s blood red eyes. “Feeish?”
Cybil screeched madly, drawing his attention. “Very good, pintura. Your pronunciation is improving.”
Isaiah lunged forward, snarling with a predator’s growl. Delilah gripped Christian’s arm, and he pulled her protectively into his side.
It wasn’t easy seeing this reality and recalling the honorable male his friend had once been. It was a good reminder why his work with The Council could not rest. They had a responsibility to their race and a debt to the mortal community.
“After Isaiah lost control,” he explained, “his rampage killed and brutalized many innocent females—Dane’s mother being one of them.”
“Is there no cure?”
Christian shook his head regretfully. “Only feeding from his true called mate could stem such bloodlust. I’m afraid his soul is lost.”
Her attention diverted to the hysterical creature climbing the walls of the next cell. “And this is Dane’s sister?”
“What’s left of her.” He glanced to the end of the hall where Dane made no secret of watching them. Christian took pity on the boy and wondered what measures he could take to help the situation, within reason. “The Order is studying the genetic abnormalities that occur when a mortal is unjustly transitioned. Isaiah has conjured quite the fall out.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was missing for decades. In that time, he unjustly transitioned many mortal women. They’re still out there.”
“Transitions like her.” He followed her stare to Cybil’s cell, and Isaiah snarled.
“Yes. They’re beyond hope. Violent and soulless. The Order is hunting what remains of the others.”
Delilah looked into Isaiah’s cell, and Cybil screeched, commanding their attention. His mate frowned and blindly took his hand. “Can we go now?”
He hesitated, alarmed by how territorial the possessed immortal was of the neighboring space. He recalled what Dane had said. “Give me a moment.”
Taking a step toward the female’s cell, Christian tested his theory. Isaiah went ballistic, snarling and clamoring about the dark cell, roaring with unmistakable fury. It seemed Isaiah had formed an alpha attachment to the child.
The territorial scent of a possessive male seeped into the dank corridor with pungent warning. Christian had assumed Isaiah would be worked up over Delilah’s presence, but the immortal seemed more distressed at the sight of him, mostly when he encroached on Cybil’s space.
