Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy #1)(40)

Killian smiled at me, and the smothering silence finally evaporated.

“Obviously,” Rupert grumbled under his breath. “We’ve known that from the beginning.”

“But to have a wizard see it, too, can only strengthen our hypothesis, given she is coming at it from an entirely different viewpoint,” Celestina said.

This spawned thoughtful looks on most of the vamps present.

Killian finally straightened in his leather chair, going from languid to predatory in the blink of an eye. “Regardless who the murderer is, they are almost certainly sent by the Night Court. The Committee has turned a blind eye to the Night Court’s antics for too long—they don’t care how many laws the Night Court breaks as long as they only hassle the vampires. But that’s fine—it’s their prerogative.” His eyes were black in the dim light as he smiled, revealing his elongated fang teeth. “But I will make them feel pain, too. At the next meeting, I will strike down the request for land usage submitted by the local fae Courts and werewolf Packs.”

“What did they want to use land for?” a male vampire asked.

Killian shrugged. “They wished to turn it into a land preserve that werewolves and fae could use for magical purposes. But it doesn’t matter. They won’t get it.”

The vampires laughed and grinned. The mood of the room was still pretty grim and tense, but they clearly found joy in subverting the others’ plans.

I pressed my lips together more tightly and stared at my teacup.

I could actually sympathize with the vampires—possibly for the first time in my life.

House Medeis holds life as precious, and while we’re somewhat infamous for banning killing—even in self-defense—I understood the horror of what was going on. Someone was picking off innocent people—and vampires. It wasn’t during battle; it wasn’t even in an official fight. It was on Family land—a place that should be safe. (Well…safe for them.) No matter what politics were going on, killing innocents was never okay.

But I didn’t like Killian’s plan to get rid of the park. Not because I felt strongly about the park—though I did recall it was something the werewolves had been excited about for a while—but because it wasn’t right to use his position on the Regional Committee as a way to extract revenge.

I couldn’t argue, though, that no one else cared about the murders. But cooperation between the races wasn’t common. Too much blood had been spilled, and too many wars had been fought for us to really cooperate.

I moodily picked up my teacup.

Nothing seemed fair or right. Killian’s vengeful tendencies were too much. But I couldn’t say the peace-loving ways of House Medeis were totally right either, or I wouldn’t have been sitting here with sealed magic, hiding from my own House.

But it didn’t matter for now. All I could do was hang on and try to survive—both the vampires and whoever was committing all these murders.

Which is why I didn’t dare breathe a word that, given how easily the murderer/serial killer seemed to slip Drake Hall’s defenses, there was a possibility it was an inside job. Because even if it was a valid thought, I was pretty sure the vampires would take offense and possibly react with violence.





Chapter Eleven





Hazel





A week passed, and there were no new murders.

My life mostly revolved around exercising and taking Epsom-salt soaks in the giant bathtub of my private bedroom. (That was, perhaps, the only major positive in this: the huge room upgrade. My bathroom was the size of my bedroom back in House Medeis, and if I had a death wish I could ransack it for serious money between the soap dispenser that was leafed with real gold and what I suspected were real rubies welded into the giant mirror frame.)

I wasn’t seeing much improvement in the physical fitness area, but Celestina assured me I would soon. I was able to hold my sword in the sword forms now without my arms shaking. But that meant giving credit to Rupert for the weightlifting, something I was morally opposed to.

“Switch to a defensive stance next,” Josh instructed. He circled, keeping a critical eye on my movements. “For as inevitable as the final kiss of death is, I imagine you desire to fend it off for as long as possible.”

Josh had taken over my sword training for the past two days, during which I’d come to learn a lot about him. For instance, he wasn’t judging my lack of fighting abilities—though I wish he was—but rather just being…Josh. I’d never met a vampire as morose and fixated on death as Josh before. (I mean, vampires are immortal. If anyone thumbed their nose at death it was vampires. Josh, however, didn’t seem to agree.)

I maneuvered my body so my sword pointed down, but was positioned in a way that would protect my stomach.

“An excellent choice,” Josh said. “This stance in particular is helpful against werewolves, who are prone to going for the guts of their victim—though the smarter ones will focus on your neck.”

“Fabulous,” I said. “Something to look forward to.”

“When you add magic to your sword stances, you’ll find you are much more capable of fighting than you imagined.” Josh stopped in front of me with his hands clasped behind his back. “Magic is something of a cheat code when fighting.”