“Get me Damien Cross,” I growl.
She nods, then gestures to one of the other vampires standing at the back of the room. From behind a curtain, he pulls out a full-length, gilded mirror, and carries it to the center of the war room. The brassy frame of the mirror billows out around it in a curved, elegant design.
Sabina stands before it, and brings her hands up, whispering an incantation. Green light glows between her fingers. In a smooth gesture, she directs the energy toward the mirror, which then swirls like a vortex in its depths.
After a moment, the green energy parts to reveal the form of a man. He stands tall, wearing a dark leather vest and crisp dress pants. He has copper skin and long locs that drape over his shoulders, each tipped with gold. His dark brown eyes flash red when he sees me.
“Hello, Crim,” he says with a frown. “I assume if you’re calling me this way, it’s not good news.”
“Unfortunately, your perception is accurate, Damien,” I reply, baring my fangs just slightly. “One of my vampires was found this morning, outside of our mansion. Drained and wrapped in ared cape.”
His eyes darken. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Crimson.”
“Where and when did you see Oana last?”
“Celine and I tracked her east, but we lost her in the Longwind Mountains. Celine thinks she might have allied with Cedric Ducharme, who fled around the same time.”
Murad steps forward. “We suspect Cedric has something to do with the increased presence of an illicit substance in Midnight City. Glow. Are you familiar with it?”
“Yes,” Damien replies. “He was doing something similar in Silverlake City, when he was working for Lazarus Gray. He alliedwith a group of independent witches to produce it for him. But we knocked out his operation.”
“They could be using the supply chain to amass power for themselves here,” Murad says.
“Do we know what Oana and Cedric’s intentions are?” Sabina asks.
“Based on the state Cassandra was in, I think it’s clear,” I snarl. “They’re coming for us.”
Damien sighs. “Oana was working with Xavian and Tudor to try and take control of the northern region. Now that they’re gone, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s trying to disrupt your claim, Crimson.”
“Justwhat I need,” I mutter angrily.
“If you discover where she’s hiding, Celine and I will come aid you,” Damien offers. “I want her brought to justice as much as you, Crimson.”
“We should meet more formally,” Murad suggests. “Coordinate our strategy.”
“It’s a good idea,” I echo, giving Damien a pointed look.
“Let me talk to the other northern vampires,” Damien confirms. “We can arrange something.”
“Include Amrita, if she’s willing,” Murad says.
“Of course,” the vampire in the mirror nods. Then he looks back to me, sincerity in his eyes. “Good morning, Crimson. And my condolences to all of you for your loss.”
In a swirl of green, he vanishes.
I smash the bottle of bloodwine against the rim of a nearby table. Thick, red liquid spills out onto the floor of the lounge.
“To Cassandra!” I declare.
The mood is far less celebratory than the end of Xavian’s reign. Word has already gotten out about the state Cassandra was in when she was found, and all of the Night vampires know that this means a conflict is brewing. But they’re all present in the lounge this evening.
Vampires don’t do funerals. We go down to the ground the way we dig ourselves out of it - unceremoniously, messily, covered in blood. So when a vampire is staked, we spill blood for them. We drink more. We fuck. We used to have a tradition where we would drain and try to turn ten living humans for every staked vampire, but depending onthe number that came back out of the ground, it started to become too much to manage. So we nixed that.
Although perhaps I should consider making some more vampires. Xavian, Waylan, and now Cassandra…if it comes to a conflict, I don’t want to lose any more.
But I’m definitely not in the mood to create any progeny tonight. I had a restless slumber in my coffin. It’s one thing to know there are threats and enemies around me, from those I know, those I can keep an eye on. It’s quite another thing to know that Oana is somewhere out there, plotting to take my throne, amassing wealth and power for herself. And if she’s allied with Cedric, that’s definitely bad news for all of us. He’s a similar age to me, and he’s almost as ruthless as Oana. Although nowhere near as unhinged.
The bottle is empty, and I throw it to the ground, the glass shattering. It’s satisfying, but only for a brief moment.
