“We’re under orders,” a third barked. “We aren’t leaving until we’ve done as the Master bid us.”
“I’m afraid then that you won’t be leaving at all.” The comment wasn’t made as a threat, or an invitation to brawl. He was simply stating the outcome as he saw it. He stood there while that registered on all their faces, then spread his arms wide. “I await your decision.”
Their answer was to bare their fangs and rush him with their weapons drawn, and his response was to become a weapon. He thinned the flats of his hands into blades, so that where he sliced, fingers and arms and heads thudded to the dew-misted grass. Within minutes, he stood king atop a mountain of severed limbs, and he winked right into the eye of the camera before bowing to his captive audience.
“Where did you get that footage?” Boaz demanded before I could put voice to the words.
“You placed several motion-activated cameras along the Pritchard/Woolworth property line. They each offer a different vantage point of Grier’s home and yard. I discovered them when I did a search of the property after moving into the carriage house.” Linus ended the film, and the screen rolled away as the lights brightened. “Eleven days ago, I encountered the dybbuk using a hose to wash blood off the lawn. I reported the incident, and the assembly allocated resources to secure the footage for their records. That’s when the massacre was discovered.”
A massacre. On my lawn. That no one had seen fit to mention to me. One sanctioned by the Master.
The past two weeks of quiet had been an illusion. A silent battle had been waging on my property, among my friends, and I’d had no idea. I was being treated as spoils of war instead of as a fellow warrior who might lend aid to the cause that was protecting my own life.
Spitting mad, I whirled on Boaz. “You’ve been keeping me under surveillance?”
“I was trying to protect you.” Muscles fluttered along his jaw. “I worry about you.”
“And you?” I blasted Linus next. “What’s your excuse for not telling me?”
“I forbade him to mention the incident to you,” the Grande Dame interceded on his behalf. “That meant he couldn’t share his sources, either.” She tapped a garnet fingernail against her ruby lips. “He could have lied, I suppose, and told you he witnessed it firsthand, but my son never lies.” The urge to roll my eyes forced me to study the toes of my slippers. Everyone lied. All except the fae, and they were said to be so gifted at misdirection as to be impossible to catch in the act. “Linus discovered new evidence in an ongoing investigation. Discretion was of the utmost importance.”
Again, the cool brush of his knuckles chilled me to attention, and I stared up at the Grande Dame.
“What say you to this?” she demanded of the Clan Masters. “Who is this Master whose orders supersede yours within your own clans?”
None of the previously ravenous vampires made a peep.
“We shall continue this discussion in my chambers.” She snapped her fingers, and three dozen Elite sentries poured into the room to secure the master vampires. They were marched beneath the box seat down the darkened hallway to the Grande Dame’s private domain. “They forfeit their tithes with their treachery.”
Boaz’s relieved sigh carried across the room to mingle with mine. Six down. Three to go.
“That brings reparations to…” She bent her head together first with the dame on her right and then the matron on her left. “The tithe owed is a paltry three point five million dollars.”
A stab of hope left me breathless. Surely Matron Pritchard would pay such a reduced fee.
“We haven’t heard from our daughter.” Her stare hung where the screen had been. “I want to hear the truth from Amelie’s own lips.”
“Very well.” The Grande Dame gestured to the sentinel standing behind her. “Remove her gag.”
He scrubbed the sigil from her forearm with a wet cloth then fell back into position.
“Tell the assembly you’re innocent,” her mother ordered. “Tell them who is really at fault.”
Call me paranoid, but I suspected, to her, the person really at fault meant me.
The room held its collective breath in anticipation of what juicy morsels Amelie might hand-feed them.
“I summoned Ambrose,” Amelie rasped through a dry throat. “I bound him to me.”
Matron Pritchard’s face snapped hard toward her daughter as if the words had been a slap. “No.”
“Yes,” Amelie said, and I don’t think I imagined the loathing simmering there.
“I have pressing matters to attend before dawn, Matron Pritchard,” the Grande Dame said. “What is your answer?”
“The Pritchard Family will not be held accountable for the actions of Amelie Madison,” Matron Pritchard enunciated clearly. One frail tear snaked from each eye before she gathered her composure. “I, Annabeth Pritchard, Matron Pritchard, hereby disown my middle child, my only daughter, and leave her fate to the assembly to decide.”
Amelie hit the marble tiles on her knees, her mouth open on a silent scream.
Madison was her middle name, her last name now. She was no longer a Pritchard.
“You made me do this,” Matron Pritchard hissed at me. “This is on your head, not mine.”
Rushing to his sister, Boaz dragged Amelie into the protective circle of his arms.
“Step away,” his mother warned him. “She’s no longer a member of this family.”
“You disowned her.” Ice glazed his voice. “You. Not me.” He pulled back to stare into Amelie’s vacant eyes as he said, “She’s my sister, my blood, no matter what you say.”
“Don’t test me.” His mother vibrated with rage. “The Grande Dame has not granted my request yet.”
“Macon will make a fine heir” was all he said, but his mother swayed on her feet.
Mr. Pritchard was slow to come to his wife’s aid, and he steadied her with as much care as a tornado paid a telephone poll.
She didn’t speak again.
“Your petition is granted. Amelie Madison Pritchard will be stricken from your lineage and histories.” The Grande Dame made a shooing motion toward the couple. “You may go now. The rest of these proceedings no longer concern you.”
Mr. Pritchard opened his mouth to protest, but his wife shook her head, and they left together with enough space between their bodies to fit some small countries.
“You there. Boy.” The Grande Dame made an impatient gesture at Boaz. “You’re excused as well.”
His glare was a loaded weapon in search of a target. “I’m not leaving her to face judgment alone.”
“Mother,” Linus called her attention to him. “The clan who called for a blood tithe—” He stepped forward, appearing curious, and used his body to block Boaz from her sight. “You didn’t mention if that debt was satisfied.”
“Oh. Yes.” She smiled warmly at him. “It is the belief of this assembly that the blood tithe was an empty gesture meant to inflict pain upon the intended target as her relationship with the defendant is well-known. That debt is, as you say, satisfied.”
“That leaves the total sum of Amelie’s debt as three point five million dollars.” The numbness was wearing off, and in its place boiled a simmering rage I would have felt for any girl abandoned by her family to face sentencing alone, guilty or not, but it struck me doubly so because it was Amelie. No matter what she had done, we were friends. I couldn’t lose her too. I had lost too much already. “Will there be other stipulations or penalties?”
“The punishment for summoning is six months imprisonment,” the right-hand dame informed me. “She must pay the tithe and serve her time.”
“If she is unable to pay the tithe at the end of six months,” the left-hand matron continued, “her bond will be made available for purchase. She will remain a detainee of the Society until her debts are absolved.”