Page 68 of Forgotten Monsters
“I’m jealous, I won’t deny it. But I don’t know…it fits you.” She motions in the general direction of my head, but I know she’s not just talking about the hair.
With a lopsided grin, she points to Mallory and Barron. “They left the library to help with the force fields, the emergency situation taking precedence over Barron’s beef with the Magisterium. I should sneak them out of here before the newcomers start asking questions. I’ll see you later.”
We exchange a quick hug, and I return to Flynn’s side, the Fae still unconscious.
A few minutes later, a commotion at the front of the room attracts my attention, and I let go of his hand.
“The President was hit by a hollow,” Elsa Demers announces. Her bright-green hair gleams around her face.
I push my way through the crowd of healers and councilmen. The President of the realm lays unconscious on a stretcher in the middle of the huddle.
His demise causes a new wave of panic to wash through the crowd.
Elsa Demers clears her throat. “By Council law, the interim goes to you, Robert. What should we do?”
Piper’s high-pitched voice rises in the air. “I must protest. Robert Winslow is the leader of the opposition. You can’t reward his actions here tonight.”
“In a state of emergency, if the current elected leader is incapacitated or killed, the highest-ranking Councilman present on the scene takes the reins until a vote can be held,” Elsa says.
Piper squeaks. “Again, I must protest—”
“Mom. Stop.”
“Allison.”
Dr. Chen raises her voice. “Julia Winslow saved Elsa Demers and the Fae. Maybe she can save the President, too.”
Dad traces the line of his brow. “Can you help him, Munchkin?”
I hold back a sigh. Am I really going to save Theodore Darkwood from a sure, swift death? The crowd parts for me, and I walk over to the old vampire.
He writhes on the thin stretcher, his white skin almost translucent, his wrinkles deep enough for sweat to gather into the cracks.
“Give her some space,” Lydia shouts from the side.
Inspired by her outburst, the four Magisterium agents flanking the President clear out the crowd, allowing me to breathe.
Trent kneels next to his father, and while a certain level of anguish shows on his face, he’s not at all the picture of a grief-stricken son.
The brown-haired vampire offers me a sad smile as I join him. “Nice hair.”
“Err—Thanks.”
We both observe his dying father, and I swallow hard, undecided about what to do.
Trent gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if the hollow had already done too much damage…if we had to put him out of his misery. Maybe it’s already much more than he deserves.”
The true meaning of his words passes between us.
I bite my lips and take stock of the damage done to Theodore Darkwood, President of the realm, and the devil whose schemes derailed my life.
“It’s too late for him,” I say loud enough for everyone to hear.
Trent lets out a long—but relieved—breath. “That’s what I thought.”
25
THE WIZARD
