Thirty
Tobias' white knuckled clutch on the phone was beginning to hurt. "Everyone has arrived?" He asked, a subtle note of hysteria in his voice. The muffled reception made him break out in a light sweat.
"They're about to close the gates but I'm not so sure everyone has gone in, sir." One voice responded calmly.
"Forget about it, Sketch, twelve cars rode in, the roll is full." A thin reedy voice joined the conversation.
"Who didn't make it?" Tobias asked.
Static bursts of the agent's voice made him nervous. "Vakeel Yasin Khan…head of…Fifth house…shifters."
"Lord Khan, are you sure?"
"…Sir…"
"Face it Sketch, twelve cars went in, they've already closed the gates." The second voice grumbled.
"So who's gone in his place?" Tobias voiced the question.
"It's not confirmed, my Lord but I think your wife-"
"My wife?"
"Like I said it's not been confirmed."
He put the phone down and covered his face with trembling hands. "They're both in there." He exhaled, a breath that was long and heavy with worry.
Thea leant forward in her chair, a hand reaching across the surface of the table. "Everything will be okay, Blaise can take care of herself." Her words were utterly unconvincing.
He sank back down in his chair knuckles pressed to his mouth and tears glittering in his blue eyes as many valiant thoughts rolled through his mind.
"Many Kings of history could not ride out to war, Tobias." Thea murmured.
"I am no King."
*
Saben Mariley Frost was where she belonged, the one instant she could shuck of the tumult of reality and bathe unashamedly in the thing that made her almost happy. Her life was simple like this, and a dozen memories of setting up and breaking down after a set, the stench of dirty bodies bouncing to the insane rhythm of the bass and kit.
All the songs meant for screaming she sang slowly and underneath it all she savoured the memories of her human life.
Her eyes closed, not ready to take in the crowd sitting in the darkness beyond the stage lights, to acknowledge the glitter eyes of the People clinging to the memories of human faces some intense with concentration others slack with abandon but all trapped by the music. Her music.
She sang.
She had seen at least thirty People, all outsiders, with prowling and predatory grace, all hungry, all dangerous. They waited with mock patience for Mezereon to deliver as he had promised. The sweet meat of children sweetened still by the magic blood that ran through their veins.
Her hands balled into discreet fists by her side as she glided to high notes where there should have been growls.
The children had not yet been presented to them, she had not seen the thick of them but a few were separated and that was where she had left Star in hopes that she would be reunited with Daniel. She would be able to tell him that Saben was there to help. Only to help.
Her eyes opened for an instant, the terrifying and hopeful instant where she expected to catch a glimpse of Abberline. Hoping he had lingered for her sake. But the hope was small, unbidden and easily swallowed as her song faded to the dying notes of Mezereon's harpist.
The curtains closed and the soft sound of applause could be heard from behind it and the dull murmur of conversation rose and she was already looking for a way off stage. She had to get to Daniel and she had to do it quick.
*
Celsia Verain could have laughed but didn't. Watching Saben Frost on stage, her eyes so distant as if she were bespelled, and why not? The entire place was a trap, a trick, a measure put there by a paranoid boy to entice and hypnotise. Blaise Harman sat silent and still as a statue beside her, a delicate flush on her cheeks as she too watched Saben.
"Beautiful, eh?" Celsia whispered.
Blaise's had been gripping the arm rest of her chair until the fabric began to breach beneath her fingernails.
The curtains closed and they were plunged into darkness that was tinted by spells, Blaise's eyes found Celsia in the dark and the vampire forced a smile to her lips and began to clap. Others followed suit.
Your boy can't be far. Celsia said. Remember our bargain, witch.
Blaise nodded. Her lips were pursed but she was thinking, yes, to kill Saben and make it look like an accident. She had no idea how she was going to achieve it. She had felt the constriction of magic the instant they had passed through the outer gate.
The stately house ran deep, right into the soil where the old world still screamed and it cushioned Power of many a spell caster that had help wave such a oppressive and complex tapestry of spells she could almost roll the taste on her tongue.
She couldn't even seem to recall the long journey, as soon as she had entered the doors she had been made to forget. She was half curious who could lay such powerful bindings.
"Come." Celsia's icy fingers grasped her hand which throbbed lightly. The vampire guided them to a space where the guests were converging, each with a glass in their hand, forced smiles and conversation desperate not to show a trace of true emotion.
Act natural. Celsia's voice hissed through her mind and the witch could have laughed.
Blaise was caught between the two real sensations of excitement and terror. To think she would see Daniel again and take him home to Tobias where they would be safe and not Celsia Verain nor Saben Frost would ever stand between them.
She knew now that Daniel should never be allowed to know of his human lineage, she would take pains to make sure he must never find out. What would they think, how could a half blood witch claim a throne that belonged to witch kind?
"Celsia?" A unfamiliar baritone voice made both women jump. They turned to see a small, gnarled frame hobbling toward them. He leant heavily on a stick that was as curved as his spine. A grotesque smile contorted the grim slash of his mouth, a crimson leer against the grey folds of his skin.
His eyes were bright and weeping blood, he brought with him a ugly, dark kind of magic kin with the deep dark earth. Blaise was revolted but remained stone faced even as Celsia Verain bowed low before him.
"Sir Druig, I am pleased to find you here."
"And I am surprised." His voice was part rasp and part lisp, as he spoke he revealed teeth as black and sharp as sin and the scent of his breath made Blaise recoil. He turned one black red eye to her. "And who is this?"
Celsia's hand curled around Blaise's upper arm in a half protective, half possessive manor. "A colleague."
"One of Abberline's women?" Druig seemed to smile but it was hard to distinguish from the size and shape of his mouth. Blaise could not suppress the sudden shudder that possessed her.
"There's no need for talk like that, sir, we are merely here to procure some meats for our Lord."
"As am I." He said and cast a wary eye about the room.
"And how is Oberon?" Blaise could only imagine what kind of twisted little creature this Oberon was and fought not to shudder a second time.
"The same, the same, his ways never change, Celsia, as you well know." He leaned forward on his stick, his head coming up to Celsia's belly though his voice, his ugliness made him seem larger than what he truly was.
"I am surprised that you say you are here on behalf of your master, Celsia." He said.
Celsia's grip on Blaise's arm tightened, cutting off the flow of blood, the smile froze on her lips and eyes became the silver-white shade of the moon. "And why's that, sir?"
"Because I'm right here."