That was all I got out, and he didn’t get the chance to utter another word, as Remnant burst toward him and literally ripped his fucking throat out.
As he shook off the mess of blood and fluids while the motherfucker fell in a heap adding to the so many dead, I saw him scan the battlefield. Everybody was down.
He eyed all the ones I’d taken out, then smiled to himself, before then bursting toward all of them and staking and decapitating, because I hadn’t killed a single one of them—except that magic-wielder.
“I couldn’t,” I told him as he finished the macabre work and strode back to me, spitting on Lucas as he went.
He simply nodded.
“You’re okay with that?”
“Of course. It’s your right. Crossing such an irreversible line is no small thing. Do you understand why I had to approach this battle the way I did, though?”
“Arresting them would have been better, way cleaner, and saved you a lot of fucking death.”
“I agree. However, it was not feasible.” He stopped in front of me and explained, “They mean to extinguish lives based on the sole notion that those lives do not meet their idealized interpretations of what a life should be, that said beings are different to them. They believe hybrid blood and makeup isimpure, when in fact it is extraordinary. They are zealots, their beliefs twisted also by notions of power and dominion. It is a rot deeply infecting them all. That cannot simply be cut out, nor cured. It must be terminated in its entirety. It is also amessage, Lazriel. That hybrid kind is not without allies, and that these allies are of pure blood also, yet do not detest hybridized natures. It reinforces thatPuritasare fanatics, that their viewpoints are outliers, not the predominant rhetoric.Andthat their stance and actions will not be tolerated.”
He laid his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve erased madness to protect innocent lives. Unfortunately, extreme measures are sometimes the only viable options. Especially when it comes to these sorts of bigots. There is no reason prevalent amongst them. And without reason, diplomatic means are impossible. There is only definitive action.”
I stood there staring at him and taking his words in.
“What happened with the wolf at the tail end of the battle is promising. I wish it hadn’t come about from the trauma of the memories associated with that bastard’s despicable attack on you, but let us focus on the fact that it did. You were drawing fully on the vampire. Actually, even on the Ancient blood running through your veins, which was demonstrated through your surge of strength and speed. Yet, you also called the wolf. Now that you are growing comfortable with the side you have denied too much of, we will work on melding the wolf as well without restraining the vampire again.” He regarded me intently. “What do you say?”
“I say that sounds like a tall order, but I’m game.”
“Excellent.” He wrapped his arm around me and I tensed for a moment before actually relaxing into it. “I need to scent-wipe this area after burning the evidence, and then we will feed. Are yougamefor that?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That sounds really good.”
The Vermillion Chamber.
That was what they called the feeding area here down in the Shadow Tunnels.
Well, at this particular site.
I’d found out now that there were actually several locations across the supernatural world. My dad had told me that this was his favorite location. Something to do with it being the first one he’d built. Although, I suspected there was more to it than that with the way his eyes had shone when he’d mentioned it. Maybe something to do with my mom? Had he brought her down to this one and spent time with her here?
I took in the space as I waited for him to arrive. He’d been detained giving a briefing to his top agents regarding thePuritascell takedown and the fact that Lucas Graylyn, who had been a major player in that twisted organization, had been taken out.
The room wasn’t a sterile blood-harvesting facility like I’d imagined. Or worse, a dungeon sort of setup. It was a controlled feeding lounge with a relaxing ambience. A really chill place, especially considering its purpose.
Velvet-lined alcoves were built into the walls, the gold fabric softly illuminated by dimmed recessed lights. There were couches and armchairs within each that were a rich crimson and thickly upholstered to give maximum comfort.
The first time Remnant had shown me the room, there had been humans lounging on the chairs or draped over them, necks and wrists exposed, many wrapped in the arms of the vampires feeding on them, fangs deep in their flesh. Other vampires had moved like shadows between the alcoves, some gentle andothers more dominant. But all fed at the agreement with the feeders.
At the center of the room was a long onyx bar covered with decanters and fine crystal glasses for those who preferred to sustain themselves with blood without feeding. As Remnant had put it, that option was mostly for those in a rush—the ones about to deploy, heading out on missions, who had to drink and run.
I smiled as that familiar feeling rolled through me.
Well, what had become familiar over the last couple of weeks. The one I’d first felt at the tail end of Victor Halrow’s attack.
My dad.
Blood calls to blood.
A few moments later, the door creaked open, and I turned as he entered with two humans trailing in his wake.
One was a powerhouse of a guy who looked to be in his thirties, all bulk and muscle. He stood in a white tank that matched his buzz cut and a pair of black lounge pants.
