Page 39 of Forbidden Devotion
Sinclair was chipping away at his long-held hostility one blush at a time. If the son was kind and generous, perhaps the father could be as well? And the council? Doubt clouded this line of thinking, but without Sinclair, he’d never have considered the possibility that vampires could be reasoned with.
As details emerged around the death of Jordan Millerson, the Vampire Council had, at the very least, taken the matter seriously.
Apparently, a conversation concerning the vote and the Edict of Secrecy in the mixed company of a city bar had turned into a disagreement. Which turned into a bar fight. Which escalated into a street brawl. Jordan and the werewolves he was with had been outnumbered and outmatched.
The vampire responsible for the death blow remained in custody, and the Vampire Council promised punishment to the full extent of their laws. That was something at least, but it wouldn’t bring Jordan Millerson back. He’d died tragically young, especially as werewolves could live well past their own centennial.
At Rocky Mount, Mitchel began the winding ascent to the burial grounds with a heavy heart.
Werewolf families had come from far and wide to mourn and offer their condolences. His uncle Ramsey would preside over the funeral, and those who wanted to shift and run in honor of the fallen wolf would have the opportunity afterward.
Though he didn’t know the Millersons well, Mitchel felt their loss as if it were his own—such was the nature of the bond among their species. He lingered deep in thought when a voice called his name. He turned. Erika.
“Mitchel, wait. I’ll walk with you.” She waved him to a stop from across the path to one of the cabins on-site. Must have slept here the night before. Her hair was tamed in a low ponytail, and her eyes were puffy and solemn. “Thanks. I didn’t want to be alone today.”
Mitchel could understand that. Most wolves gathered would be surrounded by their families, but neither he nor Erika had close relatives or mates. Mitchel had Ramsey, but his uncle’s time was always in great demand. As far as he knew, Erika had no one.
“No problem. I’m not particularly keen on being alone right now either.”
“Did you know Jordan?” she asked.
“Not really. Did you?”
She nodded. “We went to summer camp together as kids. He was wild back then.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he was always trying to convince the rest of us to go along with his crazy ideas.” Her lips curved into a smile.
Mitchel gazed up the hill. “We still have quite a ways to walk. Feel like telling me about one of them?” He offered his arm.
She took it, wrapping her elbow in his. “Okay, so the camp kids told this story of a wicked old vampire who lived on the cliffs by the lake. Almost like a legend. He was supposed to be one of the really old ones, you know? The ones who’ve lived so long they’ve lost their minds, and no one could control them or predict what they’d do. Very powerful.”
“Sounds spooky already.”
“Well, as the story goes, the old vampire would creep down the cliffs to drink the blood of campers while they slept. Someone always had to stay awake to be on guard.
“Jordan never wanted to be on guard duty. He thought we should just take out the old vampire so no one would have to worry about him anymore. He convinced the lot of us to climb all the way up those cliffs in the dead of night to slay the beast. We all had stakes, like straight-up wooden stakes, you know?”
“Like Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” Mitchel joked.
“Just like that. So we followed Jordan into the forest. It was the pitch black of a new moon. He got us all lost but wouldn’t admit it. Every snapped twig made us jump. Every creak of trees swaying in the breeze froze us in our tracks. We must have hiked for miles, but we never found a house or a cave or coffin or any place where a vampire might be lurking. By midnight, we were all so scared shitless that it didn’t matter.
“To this day, I don’t believe Jordan actually saw anything, but when he yelled, ‘Vampire, run’ at the top of his lungs, we all fled for our lives. ‘There’s no time,’ he yelled. ‘Hurry, to the lake. Jump.’ It must have been a fifty-foot drop, maybe more, but we all leaped.”
She shook her head and swallowed. “If you had told me one wolf would convince a whole pack to jump off a cliff, I wouldn’t have believed you. Only Jordan had that kind of power. He had a certain charm about him. Hard to resist. He was always doing that sort of thing. For good or for bad, he was a natural leader.”
Mitchel didn’t know what to say. He squeezed her arm closer against his side. “Sounds like a fun guy.”
“That’s for sure. It’s hard to believe he’s gone.”
They reached the top of the hill and joined the crowd of mourners gathered at the open grave. Jordan’s parents were there, red-faced and watery-eyed. His father had a protective arm around his mother as she wept soundlessly.
It was an awful thing to see parents lose a child. Mitchel had experienced the opposite as a child who’d lost both parents. He remembered the day it had been him standing at the mouth of twin graves, mourning his untimely loss. Tears welled in his eyes, and he blinked to keep them at bay. Erika wrapped her arm around his waist, and he was glad for the comfort.
Ramsey called for everyone’s attention and began the solemn ceremony of laying to rest one of their own. His deep voice rang out among the crowd.
“We are gathered here today to honor our fallen friend, the noble wolf Jordan Millerson…”
