Bloodspell (The Cruentus Curse, #1)(56)
After another hour of arguing with himself, he finally picked up his phone and dialed her cell number. It went straight to voicemail and he didn't bother to leave a message. He went back to staring blindly at the dark sky.
CHRISTIAN TRIED TO call Victoria several times throughout the morning with no success. He decided that he would try the ski lodge once his meeting with the Council was over. It had only been a couple days, but he needed to know that she was all right.
The limousine cut west neatly through the afternoon traffic on the way to La Défense, the business center of Paris. The Council was a powerful body that owned several wealthy corporations and made use of their boardrooms to conduct other business like special Council meetings. Real estate was just another of the perks of immortality.
The limousine pulled to a stop, and the chauffeur opened the door. Looking up briefly at the overcast sky, Christian stepped out, leaving his overcoat in the car and walked briskly over to the Tour Areva, one of the tallest skyscrapers in La Défense. The building was entirely black, fitting for its owners, with dark granite walls and darkly tinted windows, a massive onyx structure rising more than six hundred feet into the air.
Christian walked into the lobby and immediately turned heads. Despite his youth, his height commanded attention, and the authority and confidence he emanated, held it. Dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal Italian suit, crisp white shirt left open at the neck with no tie, and polished Dior loafers, he certainly looked the part of an executive. He looked young, sophisticated and entirely too dangerous.
Normally Christian preferred a more casual look but at these Council meetings, appearances were everything, especially for someone considered vampire royalty. By human standards, nineteen was young. By vampire standards, a hundred and seventy-five even more so. Still, after so many years, the pretense came naturally to him and his act was flawless.
He took the private elevator to the top floor where a gorgeous brunette showed him into the conference room. Human, with not a mark on her perfect, bronzed skin that he could see. He smiled and was rewarded with a warm look of unmistakable invitation. So maybe the marks were elsewhere. In a delightful breathy voice, she said, "They'll be here soon. Is there anything I can get you?"
Christian smiled again and declined, allowing himself to relax a bit after she left, although he wasn't naive enough to think that they weren't watching him, so he continued to play the part, lounging in his chair and looking indifferent to being kept waiting.
When the receptionist came back in to let him know that they would be in shortly, he stood up and strode over to the floor to ceiling windows. The city of La Défense stretched in an undulating wave below, and even when he heard the door open behind him, he didn't turn around until he knew they were all there.
"My Lords," he began, using the formal address, "I am here at your request." He stared around the long table, his gaze impassive yet respectful. Despite knowing the part that he was expected to play, he was also well aware of the power at this table. Some of the Elders were thousands of years old. He recognized many of the faces and nodded politely to those he knew. Others were unfamiliar, younger members more recently inducted to the Council. Though Paris was its headquarters, the Council was global, with twenty members from all over the world. Christian also noticed with some surprise that there were now two female members on the Council. Things were changing.
On the whole, he did not detect any measure of blatant hostility, although some of the newer faces were wary. Good, that meant that they knew what to expect.
Enhard, one of the Council speakers, stood gesturing for Christian to sit at the last remaining seat at the table. Enhard was handsome, his unlined youthful face belying the fact that he was several hundred centuries old and considered an Elder. Christian sat with a gracious inclination of his head.
"Your Grace, thank you for coming," Enhard said. "As the first matter of business today, we raise the issue of the prophecy. We fear that the actions of your brother, Lord Devereux, will bring war upon us. The witch clans have made claims that he has murdered innocents in his blind desire to discover Le Sang Noir. The worst offense was a thirteen year old witch killed in full view of her entire coven." Enhard paused. Christian's face remained impassive. "There is a centuries-old truce based on a violent past between vampires and witches; we don't hunt them and they don't attack us. Our agreements have been tenuous at best, and our truce is now in jeopardy. His flagrant disrespect of this law, among others, must be addressed."
Enhard stopped, his dark gaze intense. The tension in the room was palpable.
"We respect the power and lineage of the House of Devereux, and it is in deference to this ancestry that we have come to you. Lucian must be controlled." Enhard's voice was soft, but the veiled warning in it was unmistakable. Other members of the Council nodded their heads in vehement agreement.
"What is it you expect me to do, my Lords?" Christian said coolly. "I will tolerate no attack against my brother."
His manner was deferential yet imperious. There was a muttering as if they hadn't quite expected him to respond in that manner. What they didn't understand was his loyalty. Regardless of what Christian thought of Lucian and his reckless activities, he would never throw him to the wolves of the Council, no matter the cost.
One of the younger council members called Avael spoke. "You must speak to your brother and advise him of the consequences if he chooses to pursue this course of action!"