Christian smiled. "My birthright has always been what I choose it to be." He signaled the waitress to bring him another cognac, and leaned back in his chair. "Tell me more about Le Sang Noir," he said. Enhard stared at him.
"We are not a hundred percent certain that it is back, but the movement of magic this year alone has been immeasurable. We've always kept an eye on the witch clans and the ebb and flow of magic over the years, just as they've kept a close watch on our numbers. Recently, the magic index has spiked, indicating the possible reemergence of Le Sang Noir. We're still not sure though. All of our information has been spotty at best as to what exactly is its true power," he said. He leaned forward, his voice a whisper.
"The Council suspects that Lucian has an alliance with a witch or warlock." At Christian's disbelieving look, Enhard continued. "There are magical wards in place that were not here before. Even our Seers are inhibited by them, they are so powerful." Enhard's handsome face was anxious, and after eight hundred odd years, it took a lot to get him worried.
"Exactly what kind of wards are we talking about?" Christian asked suddenly very alert. He thought back to the strange feeling he'd had when he entered Lucian's house, that odd cloaking feeling. Something started to click into place.
"Dark magic, Christian, I'm sure of it," Enhard said. Christian had never seen the old vampire look so troubled. "They've grown stronger in the last day."
"Enhard, if Lucian discovered Le Sang Noir somehow, what would that mean?"
Enhard hesitated, searching for the right words. "I love Lucian as my own son, as I do you," he said, "but Lucian has become ... corrupt. He does not follow the old code. You know we kill if we have to ..." Enhard stopped to acknowledge Christian's raised eyebrow, and nodded. "It is our way Christian, even if you disagree. But your brother Lucian kills for pleasure, indiscriminately and even more so in search of Le Sang Noir and the power it holds. He is deliberately careless, and it makes the Elders nervous for our security. We have lived through countless centuries, millennia even, in the proverbial shadows." Enhard seemed amused at his choice of words. "Not like we used to, of course, but metaphorically speaking now." He gestured needlessly at the people swirling around them.
"It's not just the witches, Christian, the humans are beginning to notice. Their scientists and forensic experts have the tools and the technology now, not to mention all the books and films flaunting our secrets! In the beginning, it was easy to get rid of the ones that got too close, but now your brother is making it impossible to do so without drawing more attention from the humans. They take murder very seriously, if you hadn't noticed." Enhard took a sip of his drink and waved away the waitress who hovered far too solicitously for her own good.
"On top of that, Lucian's disregard for our treaties with the witch clans and his obvious acts of provocation including the murder of a high priestess, have drawn their censure. Any personal alliance with a witch is forbidden. They are calling for retribution in blood, your brother's blood." Enhard put both hands in front of him placatingly, his voice harsh with regret. "I'm sorry to have to be the one—" he said, and stopped when Christian put a hand on his arm.
"I've known for a long time that Lucian's desires would cost him," he said. "I just didn't realize we could all pay the price. Have they agreed on a course of action?"
"Yes. If you fail to stop him, the Council will vote on execution."
"What are their terms?" He knew quite well that Lucian would have little chance if the Council went to a vote as, given their fear of Lucian, the outcome was certain.
"Surrender of the witch or warlock helping him," said Enhard.
"And Lucian?"
"He will be spared at the discretion of the Council. If he pursues any additional act of aggression against the witch clans, or does not abide by the laws of the Council, the vote will proceed."
A muscle ticked in Christian's jaw. Enhard's face was sharp with pity. The situation had worsened in the last few months and given the state of the Council, Christian had little hope to save Lucian without a miracle. Lucian's desire for power blinded him to everything else, and the deadly lure of Le Sang Noir had poisoned that desire and turned it into manic obsession.
"Tell the Council that it is a witch they seek, a short, dark-haired, dark-skinned woman. See if it can buy some goodwill," said Christian. Now he knew why those bruises on the woman's arms in Lucian's house had disturbed him—they were cleverly done, fake markings. That, coupled with her authoritative attitude in a roomful of deadly vampires, should have been a giveaway. He was angry with himself for only just figuring it out even though there was probably nothing he could have done differently. Enhard glanced at his watch and Christian stood, putting on his coat. They embraced.