Page 109 of The Blood Witch

Jasper stopped suddenly, breaking their kiss as his head whipped up to watch the Vampire.

“Oh, Alastair,” he said quietly. And the heartbreak and pain in his voice turned Fey’s blood cold. She scrambled to sit up.

Without another word, Alastair took the phone from his ear and stared down at the screen. Then he ended the call.

“What is it?” Fey asked.

“Cassiel deSanguine is dead,” Alastair said in a hollow voice. “He slit his own throat.”

Part Three

Chapter 49

CALLUM

It should be raining, Callum thought, gazing up at the clear night sky. It was only fitting that it would be raining at a funeral. But the sky around the tombs remained stubbornly dry. Not even a single cloud was visible. The night was a soft velvet, a near-perfect match to the color of the suit he’d chosen to wear.

This wasn’t Callum’s first funeral. Not by far. They had opened the tomb only two years ago, when his cousin Santiago had been found murdered in his apartment. He could even remember Delilah’s funeral, though he had been just a child at the time and didn’t yet understand what death meant to an immortal. But he had been a background player in those funerals, a participant at best.

Not like now. Not like tonight.

Callum shut his eyes tight and prayed for rain. He hadn’t cried yet, hadn’t been able to still the emotions roaring inside him long enough to find any tears. Maybe he had hoped the sky would do his mourning for him, if only for the night.

Tonight, with his father’s body laid on the black onyx slab inside the family tomb, Callum was more than a mere participant. He was the face of the Salvatore family, the strongest Vampire family in the realm.Tonight, he would stand vigil by his father’s side all night while the other families came to pay their respects and offer their condolences.

Tonight, he would represent them all. At least until…

“Has he arrived yet?” Callum asked, eyes still closed. He knew Winston was at his side without the human even uttering a single word.

The crowd around the tomb had grown with each passing hour since the sun had set. Callum had expected representatives from all the major families to come, of course, but it looked as though every member of their Faction had answered his invitation. Every single Vampire, from every octant in the realm.

All except one. The only one who mattered.

“He has, sire,” came Winston’s answer, his voice like dry parchment. “He just arrived. He is with your father now.”

Callum took a deep breath to center himself. He could do this. It was time.

The crowd parted before Callum as he made his way through them, toward the tomb. They parted, but not before each Vampire he passed offered their condolences, pressing their fingers to their lips and murmuring prayers.

So sorry for your loss.

Our family mourns with you.

He was a great man.

Was he? Calum wondered when he heard that. Even now, he wasn’t sure what sort of man his father had been. Likely, it didn’t matter now.

But he accepted the words graciously, thanking those in attendance, as he made his way across the lawn.

The tomb where they’d laid his father’s corpse was empty, save for one lone figure, when he reached it. The others had filtered outside to give him space to mourn.

“Hello brother,” Callum said softly as he approached.

Alastair didn’t answer. He stared down at their father’s body, laid out on the slab of stark black stone as though resting. They had dressed him in white, the color of death, and Callum himself had selected the silk scarf that wrapped around their father’s neck, hiding the death wound. Hiding where he had slit his own throat open with a razor blade.

His steps sounded obscenely loud on the stone floor as he came to stand at Alastair’s side.

“Is Fey…?” Callum began to ask, looking around for signs of the Witch.

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