Damn, I'm so sleepy, I nearly forgot to post today's chapter. Oops!
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Chapter 32
So You Want to Start a War
Frankie rubbed the bridge of her nose, taking a deep, calming breath to steady her rousing temper. It had been pretty much three weeks of the same thing since her return to Budapest – countless secret meetings with representatives from all the different peoples and rebel factions in the city, not to mention hours and hours of arguing and negotiating. She had had very little time to herself, save those few precious hours of daylight when she would rest – but even then, restorative sleep would evade her.
She had had nothing but dreams of Dracula for days now, the general lack of contact with him leaving her aching and frustrated. They were only in each other's company for maybe minutes at a time in the earlier parts of the night when everyone would meet up at Carmen's to go over the evening's assignments before splitting off. Even with Vlad's convincing speech in the car-ride over from France, Rémy still made it a point to keep the two separated.
It was torture.
She missed the regularity of their training sessions; his calm and steady presence, which she had grown so accustomed to during the summer. She longed for it now as she struggled to maintain an appearance of stoic indifference while Lyra and Damon argued with the three women seated on the other side of the table.
Maiden. Mother. Crone.
Frankie had never really cared for witches.
While she could admit now that much of her prejudice was owed to her past run-in with Mariella Bernardini the night she had been marked, this current encounter wasn't doing the disciples of the Goddess any favors.
It was moments like this when Frankie found herself missing her brother-in-law, Jacob. As both vampire and powerful magic wielder, he had always been the perfect mediator between the two races. She couldn't help but wonder what difference it would make to have him present in these proceedings.
Lyra was doing her best, but her past refusal to formally join any of the Budapest covens had had unforeseen consequences – like the distinct lack of trust they were dealing with now. And Damon, being the only male present, was doing his best to keep the peace, but with very little success.
Frankie had been skeptical when Carmen had recommended he tag along, but she was grateful now for the man's impeccable calm. Lyra's inherently short fuse was only getting shorter as the evening wore on.
"If you're not going to help us, the least you could do is cool it with the demonstrations. You're not helping anybody by flaying a palace sentinel alive in the town square," the redhead snapped, leaning over the table as if it helped to strengthen her argument. But the matron she was addressing – the mother of the trio – only continued to play with the dark ends of her braid, clearly bored.
"The brute threatened my sisters, and we Blood Thorns don't take kindly to threats – nor do we let them go unpunished," the witch answered pointedly.
"Not everyone that works in the palace is evil..."
"He worked for Augustine," the matron interrupted. "I don't care if he was just doing his job – the fool chose his side and thus the consequences. How else were we supposed to return Augustine's message?"
"Well, your message put a fucking target on your back, and on the backs of every other magic wielder in the city – Blood Thorn or not."
"The fool threatened us with massacre if we did not choose a side. I may detest your pesky alliance, but we will not be bullied into submission. Augustine has left our kind alone these long centuries – we don't interfere with his plans, whatever they may be, and he leaves us in peace. It was you whose impudence has placed the present target on our backs," and she flashed the still silent Frankie a damning look.
To her credit, Frankie didn't even flinch.
"The alliance hasn't had any dealings with any of your sisters in years – not since the falling out with Šarić," Damon explained patiently.
"Another reason why we have no reason to trust you!" the youngest of the three interjected. "The first gealach prince we've seen in centuries, one of the few male-born witches in the entire city, and he shuns us because of you!"
Another venomous look was sent in Frankie's direction.
Still, she stayed silent.
"He shuns you because you manipulated him into using dark magic," Lyra shot back.
"Necromancy is his birth-right! He should have been embracing it from the start, not running from it for fear of hurting his family. We should have been his family."
"And yet, even after all that, he still chose them over you. Gee! I wonder why? Maybe it was because that necromancy you were pushing on him nearly got her brother killed!" Lyra replied without missing a beat, motioning to Frankie.
The young witch scowled.
"How were we supposed to know that she'd been touched by both Lilith and Lamia?"
"Sorsha, please," the eldest matron chided gently, trying to cool the girl's temper, but she was aptly ignored.
"If we had known, we would have had him choose a different vessel."
"Jacob only turned to you because he was trying to find a cure for my blood-rage. He never had any intention of using me or any other vampire as a weapon to do your bidding," Frankie finally said, though she remained utterly impassive. "I've noticed how you witches love to point the finger elsewhere – be it at a person or fate – but at the end of the day, you were the ones that lied to him, the ones that manipulated him. That is why he hasn't made direct contact with the covens since that night. It has nothing to do with me – that is all on the three of you," and she lifted her hand to point the accusatory finger. "Your lies, your deceit – and as consequence, you nearly destroyed your only real line of defense against Augustine."
"And we are sorry for that," the eldest submitted, even with the disapproving scoffs and looks from the younger two.
Frankie only nodded in acknowledgement, but offered little more in response.
"The issue on the table still remains, ladies," Damon announced, trying to bring everyone back to the problem at hand. "Augustine is a threat to all of us. We stand a better chance at defeating him if we stand together."
"We stand a better chance at survival by staying out of this altogether," Sorsha replied stubbornly. "Sarah might be thirsty for blood," and she send a sidelong glance to the woman at her side, "but Elora and I are not."
"We have no reason to join your fight," Elora, the older matron, answered mildly.
"And you have nothing to offer us that we could possibly want or need," Sorsha added, leaning back in her seat, a smug look on her face as she and Lyra glared daggers at one another.
"Except Jacob," Frankie replied, and as expected, the three women seated across from her perked up a little at that, try as they might to conceal their interest. Lyra turned and sent her friend a questioning look.
"But you said you weren't in contact with him anymore," Elora said.
"He hasn't been directly involved in the alliance, that is true. But that doesn't mean we haven't been in contact with each other. He is my brother-in-law after all… I consider him blood."
"I've heard whispers," Sarah said, flicking her dark braid behind her as she leaned forward to rest her arms on the table. "Whispers that he's been contacting members of our community. Questions about breaking a blood hex."
"What of it?"
What game are you playing? Lyra's expression seemed to say, but the woman made a barely discernible nod as if to reply, trust me.
"Blood hexes are tricky things – very old and powerful dark magic," Sarah continued. "One of my shadows tried to find out why he would want to translate the sigil, what the purpose of it was. He wouldn't say. Only that he owed his future queen a favor…"
"There have also been rumors that the Dracul Sânge have returned to Budapest," Elora said, lowering her voice. "That they seek the one prophesied to be the undying bride of the dragon – the only one with the power to destroy Marcus once and for all."
"I thought the Dracul Sânge were dead?" Damon interjected, looking to Lyra for an explanation, but she offered him none.
"Hardly," Sorsha said. "Only cursed. Prevented from being reunited with their father and king."
"I consider the breaking of the hex a pretty impressive wedding gift, wouldn't you?" Frankie lilted.
Lyra's brows shot to her hairline at this, but her friend's expression remained aloof.
At this piece of information, the three witches began a silent conversation of looks that lasted for nearly a minute. Damon and Lyra glanced at one another with uncertainty, but Frankie never moved, eyes fixed on maiden, mother, and crone, patiently waiting for their deliberation.
"We will consider your offer of a truce on one condition," Sorsha announced.
There was a pause, and then Sarah explained,
"We wish to meet with gealach prince."
Lyra balked.
"Out of the question. Jake wants nothing to do with you bitches. He made that abundantly clear years ago. What makes you think…"
But Frankie held up her hand, a request for silence.
"To what end?" she asked carefully.
"Our kind has dwindled these last four decades, being trapped in this city. Pureblooded witchlings are near impossible to produce with mortal men, but with the prince…"
"Are you fucking insane?" Lyra shot, a genuine look of horror on her face. "He's not some prized bull that you can…"
Frankie interrupted her again.
"You want me to try to convince him to reenter your fold."
The three women nodded.
"Frankie, no!"
"I can't promise he'll consent."
"We can translate the sigil of your blood hex," Sorsha replied in offering. "In exchange for his consent, we can give you the knowledge you need to break the curse on the Dracul Sânge."
"Last I heard, he was nearly done translating it on his own," Frankie stated, leaning back in her seat, legs crossed. "I guess he doesn't really need you three as much as you need him." That wasn't entirely true, of course. She hadn't been in direct contact with Jacob in months and Lyra had only said that he was working on translating the sigil, not that he had made much progress.
"No witch can truly thrive in solitude," Elora explained. "Even the most powerful of our kind require some kind of companionship for stability."
"And yet, he seems to be doing just fine on his own."
"He needs us," Sarah insisted. "Just as we need him. Our power is strongest when we're united together."
"You know, it's funny you mention that, because I'm fairly certain that's exactly what Damon here said the moment this meeting commenced – that we are strongest together. Interesting how we've finally come full circle. Only took us three hours," and she sent the man at her side a bit of a smile. He seemed to follow her train of thought.
"You consent to treaty with us, and we can put you in contact with Jacob," he said.
Lyra opened her mouth to protest, but he continued, cutting her off.
"But only to put you in contact. Nothing more. You'll have to petition him yourselves."
"We don't need you to mediate," Sorsha hissed.
"Oh, but you do," Frankie replied, standing. "Because of the shit you pulled ten years ago, one word from me, and you'd never so much as hear a whisper of your precious gealach prince again." She placed her hands on the edge of the table, leaning forward. "You want to talk to Jacob? You have to get through me first – and I'm not sure if you've been watching the news for the last month, but I'd recommend not testing your luck when it comes to going toe-to-toe with me."
"We were able to wield you once, vampire. We can do so again," Sarah threatened, standing as well.
"A worthy attempt at bluffing, my dear, but we both know you can't. Necromancy is a gift that hasn't run in the veins of your kind in an age – my brother-in-law being the rare exception." She motioned with her head to Sorsha and Elora. "The Conium and Cicuta witches can't even resurrect a mouse," and then she looked directly into Sarah's eyes. "Whereas you Blood Thorns could barely handle an ex-girlfriend. What makes you think you could control this undying bitch queen again without a man's help?"
Sorsha leapt up at the insult, claws out and eyes black with rage, but with reflexes like lightning, Francesca unsheathed a blade from her hip. The Damascus steel tip kept the witch from progressing further. The vampire's eyes were already glowing violet with her impatience.
"I've sat on the sidelines of your petty little schemes for long enough. This is how we'll proceed," and she unveiled a twin knife, pointing it in the direction of the other two matrons for emphasis. "You swear a blood oath to me that you will cease with the demonstrations against Marcus. You can either stay out of this fight entirely or you can join the alliance – I don't really care which, but you have to pick one or the other. In return, I give you my word that I will speak to Jacob on your behalf. But whether or not he chooses to hear you out will have no bearing on the truce between us. Is that understood?"
The witches were silent, save Sorsha's angry growling.
"If you don't agree with my terms, let it be known that I have no qualms in ending the three of you right here, right now. You won't be the first witches I've killed…"
Sarah made a move to lunge forward, but Elora stopped her with a strong, yet weathered hand.
There was another tense conversation of looks which came to an end a short time later with an exasperated huff from Sorsha and a scowl from Sarah who took a step back, eyes still dark and arms folded over her chest.
"We accept your terms," Elora announced.
"Care to explain to me what the fuck all that was about?" Lyra called out as they entered Carmen's through the front door. Frankie didn't reply right away, too busy thanking Damon for his assistance and sense of calm as she made her way over to the bar to help herself to a drink. When Damon had left to go find Carmen, Frankie finally turned to her seething friend who had angrily repeated her question.
"I'm gonna need you to be a little bit more specific."
"Oh, don't play dumb with me. I mean selling Jacob out like that!"
"I wasn't selling him out," Frankie defended, knocking back a shot of whiskey before chasing it with a shot of dhampir blood Carmen had started keeping on tap. She then returned the bottle of alcohol to its place on the shelf. "I was merely… bartering. Besides, it's not like I have the authority to tell Jake who he can and can't sleep with. If he decides to agree to their terms, that's his decision – not mine. They wanted a foot in the door, I gave them one."
"He's been trying to stay off their radar for months, Frankie. He's not going to be happy when he finds out that you practically gift-wrapped him."
"Hardly."
"Frankie! You're back!" Vesper called out, emerging from the back hall. "Did you get it?"
The woman pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it over to the dhampir.
"Signed in blood, as promised," she announced, doing her best to ignore the disapproving glare from the redhead at her side.
"Rémy will be happy to hear that. He's in the war room," and the teenager turned, motioning for the two women to follow.
"Anyone else back yet?" Frankie then asked conversationally, hoping against hope that Vlad had returned. She had barely seen him at the start of the evening.
"Carmen and Danny returned about an hour ago. Vlad's still out, but he should be back any minute now."
The woman actually sighed in relief without realizing it, earning a suspicious sidelong look from her friend who – surprisingly – said nothing. Not that she needed to. Frankie could feel the weight of her stare without even having to glance out of her periphery. They entered the war room to find the others already deep in discussion.
While Rémy continued to debrief Damon on the meeting with the witches, Frankie took a seat at the table, silent as Lyra pulled up a chair next to her.
"We need to talk," the redhead said, keeping her voice down as the others conversed.
"I know," Frankie whispered.
"Really? You're not going to fight me on this?" Lyra asked, surprised, but also unable to keep from sneering.
"There's so much I haven't told you."
The redhead scoffed at this, though the anger in her countenance waned notably.
"What else is new?"
The two women chuckled a little at that, but made sure to keep their dialogue quiet.
"You're different," Lyra continued a little more pensively after a while, looking directly at Frankie now. "Ever since you've returned from France, something about you has felt different..."
"Not in a bad way, I hope?" Francesca turned her head to meet the woman's gaze. Lyra shrugged.
"No… but don't think I haven't noticed the way you light up whenever Leinhart enters the room. Is there a reason why your brother is hellbent on keeping you two apart? You guys have barely been in the same space for more than five minutes at a time."
"Is it wrong that I both love and hate you for noticing?"
Another soft chuckle.
"Something happened, didn't it?"
Frankie only nodded.
"And let me guess – big brother found out?"
Another nod.
Lyra muttered an oath as she leaned back her chair, placing her feet up on the edge of the table.
"This wouldn't have anything to do with that wedding present comment with the three bitches, would it?"
Francesca offered no explanation. Only a look that had Lyra's brows furrowing as she removed her feet from the table and sat up suddenly.
"What aren't you telling me?" she asked.
Before Frankie could even begin to explain, she paused suddenly as she felt the very man who had occupied so much of her thoughts these last weeks suddenly enter the building, as if uttering his name had been enough to summon him.
Although it was muted thanks to the concealment charm he continued to wear around his neck, she knew that presence anywhere. Without even meaning to, her back straightened, eyes immediately shooting for the door. Not ten seconds later, Dracula entered the war room.
He was greeted upon his entry with exclamations of welcome and queries about his whereabouts and for a moment, Frankie thought that he would do as he had done the last three weeks whenever they reconvened at the end of the night – that he would share any news with her brother and then depart.
But something was different.
He was holding something in his closed fist and his eyes were filled with a kind of intensity that sent shivers down her spine.
And then he was bee-lining his way toward her, ignoring Rémy – something that immediately caught the attention of the others.
For a brief instant, Frankie felt her arms twitch, the temptation to reach out for the man, to pulling him toward her, to kiss him – it was almost more than she could bear. But then his hand extended toward her, a small micro-SD card in the center of his palm.
His eyes never left hers.
"What's that?" she heard someone ask, though she didn't quite care who.
She lifted her hand to take the SD card, her fingers touching him for only a moment but it was enough to send another delightful shiver down her spine. With great difficulty, she was able to pull her eyes away from his, just long enough to study the item in her hand.
"I was able to meet with Elina," he said at last, glancing over his shoulder to acknowledge Rémy's question.
"Councilwoman Elina?" Danny asked. Vlad only nodded, returning his attention to Francesca.
"She wanted me to give you that."
"What is it?" she asked, finally finding her voice.
"A gift… and proof of her allegiance."
"Allegiance to who?" Carmen called out.
"To the queen of Budapest."
Frankie handed the micro-SD card to Lyra who in turn proceeded to insert it into one of the tablets charging on the table. Whatever popped up on the screen had the woman swearing.
"What is it?" Rémy demanded, making his way over to their side of the table, but Lyra was already on her feet, reaching for one of the connector cables as she switched on the hologram projector, snapping for Vesper to dim the lights.
What appeared before them were hundreds of thousands of files – video, audio, photos, documents – decades of evidence detailing not only the extent of Marcus Augustine's treachery, but his allies, from those currently seated on the council, all the way down to the Spider.
"Holy shit," Rémy breathed as Lyra scrolled through file after file.
"She even has it catalogued," Carmen pointed out, moving to stand beside the redhead. "See here? She has these ones tied to old articles you wrote."
Lyra ran her finger over the screen and a series of folders appeared, each labeled and dated to match the corresponding Veritas articles published by Madame Nemo over the years.
Vesper pointed at one file in particular as it hovered illuminated over the table.
"What's that?"
Lyra, who had needed to sit down, handed the tablet over to Carmen.
"I don't know… but it was dated a couple of days ago," the Spaniard explained and she pressed her finger against the item in question, launching a video.
It was a recording of Marcus and Basilio in private conference within the palace.
"That's not all I want," the Spider was saying. "I wish to break her; to finish what you could not."
"And how do you propose we do that? You don't know her like I do. You think you understand how deep her willfulness runs, but you cannot even begin to fathom…" Marcus replied.
"All stubborn beasts can be broken. It just takes the right amount of pressure."
"What kind of pressure?"
"Well, I believe you had the right idea initially when she was last in your care – to take those things which are most precious to her. I'm merely suggesting that we finish what you started."
"You really have it out for her brother, don't you?"
The only two men she genuinely feared – allies – unified in their mutual hatred of her.
"I won't deny that the prospect of slicing him up into tiny little pieces certainly has its appeal," the Spider continued. "But I have half a mind to save him for last. I propose we begin with her inner circle. We already know that she's connected to the alliance – and if my instincts are correct, I'd hazard a guess to say that she's intimately involved. If we can eradicate the inner circle of the alliance, not only will we cut off the rebellion at its head, but we'll have effectively destroyed all that she holds dear here in Budapest. Her friends, her family…"
"Her brother," Marcus finished.
"He is the last of her kin, isn't he? According to your source?"
"Turn it off," Rémy said, but Frankie held up her hand, motioning for Carmen to keep it playing.
"Of her immediate family, yes. That I know with absolute certainty."
"And grief, as we well know, has a habit of making one reckless…"
"Giving us further justification for incarcerating her. Yes. She could end up taking out a fraction of the population in the process if that footage you found is to be believed. If that happened, the people would turn on her for sure."
"A sacrifice well worth making."
"Turn it off," Rémy ordered again.
Carmen sent her friend a look and when Frankie nodded once, she obeyed, switching to another file – this one of security footage from a laboratory lined with vampires strapped to gurneys.
The video time-stamp dated back several decades.
"The start of the virus," Danny whispered. "I… I can't believe it."
They all watched as Marcus and councilwoman Sonya were led by one of the doctors through the ward, seemingly unmoved by the anguished screams of those infected souls who were suffering from a slow and excruciating end. Damon tried to shield Vesper's eyes, but she pushed his hand away, staring at the video, unblinking.
This went on for some time as they perused Elina's mighty gift – decades of evidence of the corruption and evil that had taken place since Dracula had gone into stasis.
The viewing only stopped when Frankie finally reached for Carmen's elbow, a silent plea. The woman turned off the video they had been watching and placed the tablet down on the table, everyone gravely silent.
It was Lyra who spoke first.
"How did Elina get all of this?"
"She's been collecting it for years – even before she changed sides," Vlad explained, his eyes falling to Francesca once more. "Antón knew she had been gathering information for a while, but even he was surprised by what she had managed to get her hands on."
"Has Bernardini seen all of this?" Frankie asked him.
"Not all of it, but enough. She wanted him to deliver it to Dracula in the hopes that it would draw him out, rally him to our cause," he explained, looking to Rémy briefly before his attention returned to the woman at his side. "But Bernardini insisted that it go to you first."
"Why Frankie?" Carmen asked.
"Because he knew the position that it would put me in," Frankie explained, "the leverage it would give me." She rose from her seat slowly, holding Vlad's gaze for an extended moment before turning to her friends.
"Leverage for what?"
"With it, I can declare war on Marcus – and not just as some nameless rebel in the shadows, but as queen consort – as the undying bride of Dracula."
"But you're not even in contact with Dracula, let alone married to the guy," Danny replied. "We don't even know where he is."
"No – but Bernardini does," she said, looking to Vlad again. "If I asked, could he put me in touch with him?"
"He might need to pull some strings, but it could be done," Vlad lied with ease, trying his damnedest to keep from smiling at her.
"Wait… what are you saying, Frankie? Are you seriously considering…" Rémy started.
"Considering throwing myself at the mercy of the dragon? Yeah, the thought has definitely crossed my mind more than once these last few weeks," she said, trying to suppress a smile of her own.
"But… but your blood condition…"
"I didn't say I was agreeing to be blood-bound to him. Even if I wanted to, that's still out of the question," she countered quickly. "I'm only suggesting that we try to work with him."
"You do realize that even if he were to acknowledge who you are, that's not to say that he's going to give a damn about it – prophecy or not," Lyra interjected.
"It's true – he might not even want me," Frankie said, sending a sidelong look to Vlad whose lips were twitching in amusement. "He might take one look at me and decide he'd be better off dead than shackled to me for all eternity – or even until this war is over."
"If he were smart, he'd run for the hills," Vladislaus mused, the pair sharing a private chuckle that was lost to everyone but Carmen who looked on with pleasure.
"But it's worth the attempt," Frankie continued seriously. "In the interim, we're going to need to comb through what Elina has given us. I'm not going to let this gift go to waste. If Budapest needs someone to lead the charge against Marcus, I'll gladly do it – especially if I have all of this evidence stacked behind me."
"Are you sure?" Danny inquired carefully. "You heard what he and Basilio were saying – about you, about the rest of us. If we openly declare war on him, there's no going back from that. None of us will be safe."
"We've never really been safe, though," Vesper said, much to the surprise of the others. "I've spent my whole life hiding from monsters like them. I don't want to hide anymore."
Frankie felt her chest crack at the bravery in the dhampir's eyes.
"So it's settled. We comb through the footage, compile the greatest hits, and Frankie takes Augustine to the mat," Carmen said with a bit of a sigh. "It sounds like suicide, but I'm in."
"So am I," Damon called out from the other side of the room.
"And I," Lyra added.
Danny, Vlad, and the others in the room all voiced their consent, but Rémy had yet to speak up, the man watching his sister with a worried look in his eye. From the tension in the man's shoulders, it was clear that all of this wasn't sitting well with him.
"The only way to do this is to broadcast it," Frankie said aloud after a moment or two of silence. "Rob had back-up servers set up for Veritas – they're still connected to the VNN network. It was one of the first things I checked when we got back. We could tap into the signal and hijack every screen in Budapest – every phone, tablet, computer, television… even the billboards and marquees in the business district. Marcus had the nerve to drag me out into the light – I have half a mind to give him a taste of his own medicine… but we're going to need some help."
Rémy was already shaking his head.
"No."
"We can't do this without him, Reynaud."
"I said no."
"He was the only reason why I was able to get the witches to take the blood oath. And in his defense, he's had nothing to do with them for years. He's been clean for a decade."
Rémy slammed his fist down on the table as he stood to meet his sister's gaze. Normally, the act of aggression would be enough to quell any further argument, but she persisted.
"We need him, Rémy."
"No we don't!"
"I get your hesitation – believe me, if anyone understands that, it's me. But he's the only one with the wherewithal to get this done efficiently and safely."
The man swore viciously in his native tongue.
"That piece of shit made it abundantly clear that we meant nothing to him that night!"
"He was trying to help."
"He nearly got us all killed!"
"Because he was being manipulated!"
The slew of curses that poured from Rémy's lips that time made even Lyra cringe. The way she shifted in her chair brought the man's gaze in her direction and he looked to her for some kind of assistance, but the redhead just held her hands up in defense.
"Oh no – you aren't pulling me into the middle of this," she declared.
"You were there that night. You know what he did," Rémy insisted.
"Yes, but I was also the only one that didn't abandon him when he came back down," Lyra reminded him with a pointed look in both he and Frankie's directions.
"He's been through enough hell the last few years, Rémy. Believe me – he's still torturing himself over what happened," Francesca continued rationally. "You know him as well as I do – he wants to help, and to a bloody fault. But after everything, he's not going to do that unless we ask… unless you ask."
"Why do I have to do it?"
"Because that was the deal when you broke things off with him," Lyra reminded him. "That he wasn't allowed within an inch of the alliance unless you personally invited him back."
"I didn't actually mean that."
"Doesn't change what you said," Frankie replied. "We need him, Rémy. And the only way he is going to come back is if you ask him to."
The siblings continued to debate the issue back and forth for a time and as they did so, Vlad had made his way over to Carmen who was still combing through the footage from Elina.
"Who exactly are they talking about?" he asked her, keeping his voice down.
"Their brother-in-law. Jacob Šarić," she explained. "He was one of the original founders of the alliance, but we haven't seen him in years."
"I didn't realize he was still in Budapest," Vlad replied. "Last I saw him, he was escorting Princess Vivian from the city. Come to think of it, we didn't see him at all while we were in France."
"That doesn't surprise me. Jacob and Rémy haven't been on speaking terms since the incident."
"What incident?"
"All right fine!" Rémy shouted. "I'll do it. But we're doing it now. The sooner we get this over with, the better. We leave in ten minutes... I need a fucking drink," and he stormed out of the room.
Carmen only sighed as she placed the tablet down, sending Vlad a sympathetic look.
"I'll have to tell you later," she whispered before excusing herself from the room.