Page 14 of Seduction in Blood
His first surprise was finding the Council's chamber doors closed. A Council page waited for them, and Devon raised a brow when he slid a glance to Sergi, who responded with the barest of nods. Be prepared.
"Master Trelane, the chamber is silent today. Mistress Stanton will see you in the solarium. If you'll follow me." The page turned without waiting for a response. No one said no to a Council summons, wherever the meeting might be held. Although, this was highly unusual.
Devon was tempted to recheck his text. He was positive the summons had stated a meeting with the Council, not a single member. He shook off the nerves creeping over him. Sergi remained silent but kept pace as the three walked through long, quiet halls, turning right and left as they ventured deeper into the building. The solarium was on the opposite side of the building from where they'd entered. Devon knew every possible exit, even those in the catacombs. The tunnels beneath ran to various outbuildings on the property, and one exited half a mile away in an old cemetery crypt. That one had always been Devon's favorite, a tribute to the false stories of vampires sleeping in mausoleum sarcophagi to hide from the sun.
A woman dressed in soft shades of lavender sat in a high-backed chair centered in the middle of the room. Giant ferns, assorted potted plants, and exotic orchids filled the solarium, all healthy from the bright sunshine that filtered through the glass walls and ceilings. Light-colored shades perched on the woman's nose as she thumbed through an immense tome. Probably one of the Council law books based on the size and age of the book.
"Thank you, Barnes. That will be all. Please shut the door on the way out." Her voice carried a rich timbre, and she never lifted her gaze from the book.
The page bowed then left without another word.
Devon waited, knowing the game, but it didn't stop his short temper from rising. Sergi planted his long legs next to the door with his arms crossed in front of him. The only thing missing from the scene was the loud ticking of a clock. But vampires didn't need clocks—they always knew the time. Clocks of any type were mere affectations, and Devon rubbed a finger over his Rolex, not ashamed by his love of timepieces.
After a long silence, the woman shut the book and tossed it on the table next to her as if it were no heavier than a napkin rather than the several pounds it weighed.
"Devon. It's been too long." She smiled, and even through the sunglasses she wore, Devon saw the smile reach her eyes.
Breathing a long sigh, Devon returned the gesture with a slight bow. "Far too long, Isabella."
Isabella Stanton was one of the oldest vampires on the Council and had always been his friend. But they'd kept their distance over the last two hundred years, in keeping with the decorum of tradition and rules. There wasn't any single magical creature that presided over the Council. Each member was equal, but if there would ever be a high ruler, his money would be on Isabella. No one played the game better than her.
"I wish our meeting didn't have to be under these circumstances." She leaned back, her body melting into the chair and her wickedly long fingernails tapping against the wood.
"And what circumstances would that be. I didn't receive any paperwork." What in all the holy hells was this about? Devon felt Sergi tense behind him.
She considered her response as if she hadn't already played this scene over a dozen times before his arrival. "I admit this is awkward, as the Council doesn't typically get involved in other Council members' business, whether they're active or not." She took a moment to flick an imaginary speck of lint off her gown. "There's been a rumor that you might be planning something…unsavory. Something that could affect the terms of your censure."
A muscle ticked in Devon's jaw, and he dared not glance at Sergi. And he hoped Sergi would give nothing away, although the man could hold a mask better than anyone he knew. "The Council now dabbles in rumors rather than facts?"
Isabella grimaced, and her words came out in a growl. "It's distasteful, I agree." She stood and stepped down from the chair, the long folds of fabric falling around her and scraping the ground as she wandered to a side table where several pots of orchids encircled a bronze head of Vlad, one of the original Fathers of their race. She ran a finger over one of the orchids—a Holy Ghost, or Dove Orchid as they're also called—that Devon knew to be her favorite.
"The Council wouldn't have even considered the information except for the reason of your censure. In fact, even with that, the Council deemed it unworthy of further discussion unless proof could be provided."
Devon relaxed, but only partially. Isabella was warning him, giving him time to circle the wagons, if necessary.
"May I ask what the rumor entailed?"
"No." She leaned down to sniff the orchid and frowned. "I do wish the fragrance was more like a rose. But I love them just the same."
Isabella turned and squinted at him. She'd never been one to embrace the light, preferring to stay in the shadows like most vampires, venturing out only at night. Devon had been like that when he'd been active on the Council, but his time with Decker regularly forced him into the daylight. Over time, he'd acclimated to the brighter light, only wearing shades when the sun was at its zenith. With the Council living up to some of their oldest traditions, Devon always questioned the reason for a solarium. Just one of the many oddities of the place.
"Did you receive the White Egret Orchid I sent at Christmas?" Devon asked.
Isabella floated over to him. He didn't have any other way to express it. She'd always given the impression she was walking on air, and he'd always wondered how she managed that. Vampires couldn't fly or hover as far as he knew.
"I did. It was a lovely gesture." She reached out and placed a palm on his cheek. "It's always good to see you, Devon." She hesitated as she ran a thumb over his skin. "Please take care." Then, she floated out the door.
Devon stood quietly, thinking over the quick meeting. Someone had shared a rumor, something that might be connected to the Council's censure of him two centuries earlier. He glanced at Sergi, who wanted to say something, but Devon shook his head. Every room in the building was wired with the ability to record sound. There was no question the sound recording was turned on after she left. His gaze fell on the book Isabella had been reading.
He strode over and studied the front cover. TheOrdo Autem ad Originem. The Origin of Order. He'd been right. This particular book documented the laws governing the Council's composition, how business was conducted, and how a council member could be censured, along with the remedies for such. The size of the book only demonstrated how complex vampire society was. It hadn't been a coincidence that Isabella had chosen this volume. One more reminder of what was at stake.
"We'll get nothing more here. Let's go." Devon strode past Sergi, who turned to follow him out.
They'd reached the halfway point to the main entrance when a man stepped out from behind a column in the long hallway. He was dressed in black, his finely tailored suit emphasizing his raw magnetism, lean muscles, and chiseled features. His equally dark hair was pushed back with hair gel. All he needed was a cape and widow's peak to complete the image of a storybook vampire.
"Devon Trelane. What brings you to our hallowed halls?"
"Ever the drama king, Lorenzo. I have every right to be here, as long as I avoid chambers unless commanded." Devon clenched his jaw, wishing he could stake this ass and take his head, but he would end up forfeiting his own life in exchange. He had other plans for Venizi.
