Page 58 of Blood Freed

“All set,” says Sabine, tossing a wave of dark, silver-streaked over her shoulder. Without a backward glance, she strides into the leafy glade. I’m so glad the elders decided to meet in the woods today. The Conclave chambers are oppressive. I haven’t felt comfortable in confined spaces since I left the facility.

Linking arms with both women, I step toward the shaded clearing beneath the canopy of leaves and branches. Gran stridesup ahead, head high, ready to do battle. Mom and Dad take up the rear while Kara and Rowan flank us.

Our formation is not accidental. We’ve encircled the two witches in a protective group. Every one of us has magic at the ready. We wouldn’t put it past Lucien to wage an attack against us here. Kara told me that a group of vampires had descended on my Starlight Vigil not so long ago. I don’t know what unsettles me more. The fact that they could be so brazen or that my family had been ready to accept that I was dead.

They waited a year. I can’t hold it against them.

The only person in our group who seems relaxed is Darick. Bringing the vampire – ex-vampire – to a Conclave gathering is highly unusual, but we’re pulling out all the stops.

In the branches above, I catch a flash of movement.

“What’s Poppy doing here?” I ask Rowan.

She shrugs. “She insisted on coming. Says she wants to make sure we don’t mess up again.”

“Damn squirrel,” I mutter, then pull in a breath as we arrive in the center of the clearing. Yet again, I am circled by a gathering of the most ancient and wise witches in our community.

Let’s hope they’re wise enough to listen this time.

“You are looking well, Mia Blackwood,” says the High Priestess.

I nod my head in acknowledgment. “I am feeling much better, High Priestess. And I am grateful that you and the elders have been willing to speak with me again today. I know that it’s short notice, but I hope you will understand that this is a matter of urgency.”

“Of course,” she says. “There has been a lot for us to resolve since the facility was exposed. So many of your sisters are free now, thanks to you.”

“Not thanks to me, High Priestess. If I hadn’t had the help of Soren Daire, I never would have escaped that place. It would still be running. We would still be captive there.”

Her expression darkens a little. It hasn’t been easy to convince them to give me time to raise this yet again. Thank God for Gran’s influence.

“If I am correct, this is the same vampire who ran that particular facility, Mia. I understand your confusion around this, but—”

“There’s no confusion, Lady Moonshadow,” I interrupt her, drawing a murmur of disapproval from the elders. “He was coerced. And I have brought more witnesses who were there to see it.”

“Very well.” She inclines her head. “State your case.”

I hold my breath as Sabine steps forward, her voice clear and strong.

“Greetings, High Priestess, esteemed elders,” she begins, looking around the gathering. “Our sister is correct. The conditions were horrific. We were kept in cells, drained of blood regularly. Many didn’t survive.” She meets Seraphina’s gaze. “But when Soren took charge, things changed. The deaths stopped. We got medical care.”

Jemma trembles beside me. “He…he limited the drainings,” she whispers. “We were given time to recover.”

“How very kind,” a dry voice interrupts her. Morgan is eyeing her with misgiving.

“Lord Shadowmaster, you are out of line,” Seraphina says coldly. “Continue,” she addresses Jemma.

“He was kind,” she says meekly. “And when Lucien ordered our execution after the escape attempt…” She trails off, wringing her hands.

“This was the situation raised previously by Mia – when you were captured after you attempted to escape?” the High Priestess asks.

“Yes.” Sabine takes over. “Heath Moonshadow captured us and dragged us all back to a dungeon beneath the facility. Lucien arrived soon after. He was furious. He wanted us dead as an example. He instructed Soren to do it and—”

“You are absolutely certain this was Lucien Marlowe, Sabine?” Seraphina asks.

“Definitely,” the witch responds.

“But you were confused. Traumatized,” Morgan interrupts again. “Perhaps with all the stress you—”

“It was him,” Sabine says firmly. “He was addressed as Lord Marlowe by the others. Heath said his name several times.” At these words, Seraphina’s jaw clenches. I’m sure she’s finding her nephew’s involvement difficult to deal with. “Besides, I saw what I saw,” Sabine adds. “I am not weak-minded, Lord Shadowmaster.” She fixes him with a level stare. “None of us are.”

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