Page 59 of Lucas
“That’s an excellent idea.” Philipe glanced at Fiona, who nodded approval. “I planned on giving you a copy of the book to take to Devon. Would he be able to contact this Colantha Dupré?”
“We’ve been gone for a couple of weeks,” Lucas said. “I don’t know if Colantha is still at the manor, but if she isn’t, we can contact her.”
“While there’s a great deal I can’t tell you, there are a few things we’ve learned.” He began to pace like instructors dowhen they get on a roll. “Much of it describes societal customs, political hierarchies, and economic conditions. Quite ahead of the times compared to the other species of that day and age. The text also identifies another race that has some form of symbiotic relationship with vampires. They called the race dreamwalkers, and this connection to vampires stems from one thing—the Blood Poppy.”
I broke away from the spell he’d cast and noticed everyone focused on Philipe, apparently enthralled with the information being shared.
“The problem is,” Fiona continued for him, “the reason for this connection must be explained in the second language. This relationship between the two species didn’t happen overnight. They’d been at war for years until one day the two sides decided they’d had enough of meaningless death. They reached some form of accord at a place called Omar. There’s a picture of the dreamwalker medallion in the book. It looks just as Ginger described it.”
“You know…” Philipe stared at the book and tapped his fingers along the edge of the lectern. “The more I recall of the meeting with Guildford, Hamilton speculated that the Vampire Council purposely hid the truth of our origins and our relationship with another species. It worried Guildford, even though there wasn’t any proof to Hamilton’s claims.”
“Colantha said the Council became concerned about the dreamwalker’s powers.” Lucas had settled back in the chair, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was digging this. “There was trouble with some rogue dreamwalkers who took advantage of their abilities. Instead of waiting for the dreamwalkers to handle the situation in-house, the vampires took things into their own hands.”
“But instead of simply taking care of the troublesome dreamwalkers, they decided genocide would be best.” AlthoughRom had been silent since entering the library, he’d been paying attention.
“That’s a stretch.” Philipe stepped away from the lectern and stuck his hands in his pockets.
“I don’t think so.” I set my empty cup down. “Colantha used that word. Genocide.”
The room quieted for several minutes. Genocide wasn’t a pleasant story for anyone’s history.
“The other part of the book has to be deciphered before any thought of taking this to the Council,” Philipe said.
“But will they believe the translation if it came from a dreamwalker?” Rom set his snifter on a nearby table. “Just playing devil’s advocate here. If today’s Council is as suspicious or downright disbelieving of dreamwalkers as previous Councils, will they take the word of a single dreamwalker?”
Philipe picked up the book and handed it to Fiona. “Suddenly, I’m feeling very tired.”
She took the book and his hand. “Perhaps if we had a cipher, we could confirm what’s written.”
I considered the possibility, and Lucas glanced over. I had no doubt we were thinking the same thing. “What if we asked Colantha whether a dreamwalker language exists? Or maybe one did a long time ago, but like Latin, is no longer spoken. Perhaps she could provide a cipher. Would that be enough for an unbiased review of the text?”
“It would be a start.” Fiona answered the question, and Philipe nodded. “If we could locate one or more books where the cipher could be used, that would reduce any doubt.”
“It’s been a long day.” Rom stood. “I suggest we get a good night’s sleep and let the enormous amount of information that has been shared today settle in. We can finish the discussion at breakfast.”
I wokethe next morning when Lucas kissed my temple. I reached for him, my brain fuzzy from sleep, confused as to why he wasn’t spooning me. An eye popped open. “You’re dressed.”
He grinned and tousled my hair. “Keep sleeping. Rom called about an early game of golf before breakfast. I’ll meet you in the dining room afterward. Or, if you’re still in bed when I finish, I’ll pull you out myself.”
“’Kay.”
I vaguely heard a door close. Sometime later, my eye popped open again. I was still face down in my pillow, and I lifted my head to check the clock on the nightstand. Nine a.m. I turned to find an empty spot next to me. The sheets were cold. Then I remembered. Golf. Ugh.
A hot shower woke me enough to hear grumbling from my tummy, but I needed coffee. I slipped on the leggings I’d bought at a discount store while on the run and grabbed a sweater dress from the closet. I rubbed my eyes, still trying to focus. I needed that coffee in the worst way. The ballet flats would have to do.
I found my way to the dining room, but the table was still being set. One of the staff pointed me to the salon, where I found Fiona reading a book.
“Morning.” I took the seat across from her where, thankfully, a coffee service waited.
She set down the book. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like the dead.” I picked up one of the empty cups and filled it. The scent alone was enough to clear the remaining cobwebs.
She smiled. “The men are finishing up the last hole and should join us soon for breakfast. Do you need anything to tide you over until then?”
“The coffee will do for now. But if they take too long on that last hole, I can’t make any guarantees I’ll wait for them.”
Fiona laughed. “We’ve gotten in the habit of eating late. We usually have coffee and a croissant or beignet and then get lost in the books until ten when Millie has to come find us for a decent breakfast.”
