The Council (Darkness #5)

The Council (Darkness #5)
K.F. Breene



Chapter 1

“Sasha, hurry up. They’ll leave without us!” Charles paced by the door, his knitting supplies in one hand and a horrible rendition of a quilt in the other. Scarves were something that the man could do. Blankets even came out decently, if he chose the colors correctly. An object half-crocheted and half-knitted, one square at a time, then strung together? Not attractive.

“Charles, they aren’t going to leave without us. If they were that close, Jonas would be—”

I cut off as Jonas’ burly shoulders appeared just beyond the doorway. The nasty puckers of skin from our battle with an extremely powerful demon were finally healing, three weeks after the event. Jonas had an attractive appearance, but his surly attitude and grim expression made a person stop taking notice and shuffle quickly out of his way.

“Were you under the impression that the schedule didn’t apply to you, human?” The timbre in Jonas’ deceptively calm voice hinted that if I didn’t hurry, he’d grab me by the scruff of the neck and drag me down the hallway.

“Mage, Jonas. I believe you are supposed to call me ma—”

Jonas took a step into the room.

A nervous chuckle sounded right before I said, “Sorry! I’m coming, I’m coming!”

“I would make a sexual joke, but we gotta go,” Charles said.

“Yes, leave talking and walking at the same time for the more experienced of us.” I snatched up my backpack filled with travel items and slipped out the door. Jonas followed me.

“So, motorhomes, huh?” I asked as we made our way to the front of the mansion from where we’d basically travel eight hundred miles to an undisclosed location like a pack of gypsies in a caravan. While those of us going to the Council could fly, the powers that be—Stefan and Dominicous—didn’t want all that human interaction if it could be helped. Since it was drivable, voilà.

“You guys get a motorhome. Most everyone else has to sit in a stuffy car. So thanks for not letting me ride with you guys,” Charles muttered as we descended stairs. “I have to ride with…” He flicked his head toward Jonas.

“You guys get along; what’s the problem?” I asked.

Charles shook his head, not bothering to answer because Jonas was so close. Didn’t matter—I was just poking the bear, anyway. Everyone in my crew got along with Jonas, but at the same time nobody did. He pretty much minded his own business (when he wasn’t minding my business). He wasn’t a wine–and-roses type of guy. I thought getting stabbed was more fun than trying to relax around him.

“Well, we’re headed into shark-infested waters,” I said as we descended another set of stairs. “I want as much time as possible beforehand to cuddle.”

“Don’t use ‘the Boss’ and ‘cuddling’ in the same sentence,” Jonas growled behind me. “It is not the image he needs around his clan.”

I rolled my eyes. “No one pays attention to me, anyway. Plus, what do they think he does: beat me over the head, grab my hair, and drag me to bed?”

“He should do that,” Charles muttered. “It’d teach you some manners.”

“God you guys are cranky today,” I replied.

“We’re headed to the snake pit,” Charles said quietly. “Toa has gone over all this—what to expect. How are you not cranky?”

I got a thrill as we stepped out the front door. The cool night air greeted me. Two large, deluxe motorhomes hummed by the curb. A small fleet of luxury cars waited nearby. Stefan stood patiently beside the smaller of the motorhomes, speaking quietly with Dominicous, his breathtakingly handsome face shut down into a stern leader’s mask. Toa stood by the other motorhome, which would transport a tied-up Trek and Andris, the prizes of battles past. Dominicous would claim ownership of the two since he was the reigning authoritative force. That sounded great to me. I had enough to worry about.

Toa had gone over the details of the Council. It was a collection of some of the oldest members of their race. They were intensely powerful men and women with hundreds of years of experience, limitless wealth, no end of creature comforts, and no real threat they cared to bother with. They were mostly high in power levels and attached to mages near the top of the power scheme. This snake pit was writhing with power plays, deceit, alliances and strategy, all greedy for power and bored with it at the same time.

It didn’t sound like a wonderful retreat.

What was worse was that as the only black mage to walk through their gilded doors, I would be target number one. I could expect constant advances to steal my heart away from Stefan, kidnappings in order to swap blood and tie me in a blood link, and a steady stream of challenges.

No, they wouldn’t be Parcheesi challenges. This was a warrior race and as the new kid on campus, a human, and sporting one of the highest power levels, I would draw the nay-sayers who wanted to prove I was a weak simpleton. How? By beating me senseless, of course.

Toa had stopped in his explanation at that point to pat me comfortingly on the back. They wouldn’t kill me, he reassured me, because one thing they would not waste was a top-level power. If someone killed me, they would be killed and probably tortured to boot. So rest assured, I would at least live. I might be forcibly tied to a dozen people via sucking blood, which would drive Stefan into a mindless killing spree, but I would be alive.