Page 22 of Blood Bound

I jerk my head up, eye wide. “No! I didn’t mean…um… Sorry, Dad.”

“Rowan. I have to talk to you.”

“For God’s sake!” I clap my hands over my ears, which I know is pointless.

“What’s going on?” Dad’s voice is sharp. “Are you listening to what your grandmother just said?”

“Get out of my head, damn you!” I squeeze my eyes shut, screaming at him silently.

“Rowan—”

“No!” I visualize a padlocked door barred shut. For a second, I imagine it rattling as someone tries to force it open, but I don’t allow it. I refuse to allow it.

I open my eyes to find my entire family staring at me. Mom’s hand hovers near mine as if she’s not sure whether to offer comfort or pull away.

“Rowan?” Kara asks, her voice tentative. “What’s going on?”

I swallow hard, desperately trying to think of an explanation that doesn’t involve admitting that Darick was just in my head. “I- I just had a moment. Sorry about that.”

Dad’s eyes narrow. “A moment? That looked like more than just a moment, Rowan. Are you hearing him again?”

Before I can respond, Gran interjects. “Perhaps we should give Rowan a moment to collect herself. This has been a trying time for all of us.”

I shoot her a grateful look, relieved that at least one person in this room seems to understand. But just as I’m about to speak again, there’s a sharp knock at the front door.

We all freeze, exchanging worried glances.

Who could that be at this hour?

Dad stands up, straightening his shirt. “I’ll get it,” he says tensely.

As he leaves the room, Mom leans in close. “Rowan, honey, whatever’s going on, we need to present a united front right now. Okay?”

I nod, trying to push aside the lingering echoes of Darick’s voice in my mind. We all strain to hear the conversation at the door, and my stomach drops when I catch the words “Conclave representative.”

Dad returns moments later, his face a study of forced calm. “We have a visitor,” he announces. “From the Conclave.”

We scramble to our feet, hurriedly smoothing clothes and hair. I can feel the apprehension radiating off everyone as we file into the living room.

I watch as Dad ushers in a young woman dressed in the formal robes of a Conclave messenger. Her eyes dart nervously around the room, taking in our taut expressions.

“Good evening,” she says, her voice steady despite her apparent unease. “I bring a message from High Priestess Seraphina Moonshadow.”

We all straighten up at the mention of Seraphina’s name. Dad nods for her to continue.

“The High Priestess wishes to inform you that she has managed to smooth things over with the vampire delegation,” the messenger continues. “However, there are still many matters that require discussion.”

I feel a wave of relief wash over me, followed quickly by a surge of anxiety. What exactly did Seraphina tell them? How much do they know?

“High Priestess Seraphina requests a meeting with the Blackwood family later this week,” the messenger says, her eyes flickering briefly to me before returning to Dad. “She stressed the importance of your attendance.”

Dad’s jaw tightens, but he nods. “We’ll be there. Please inform the High Priestess that we appreciate her efforts and will await details of the time and place of our meeting.”

The messenger bows slightly. “I’ll relay your message. Good evening to you all.”

As quickly as she arrived, she’s gone, leaving us in a heavy silence. Dad closes the door and turns to face us, his expression grim.

“Well,” he says, “it seems we have a bit of a reprieve. But that doesn’t mean we can breathe easy just yet.”

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