Keeping Secret: Secret McQueen, Book 4 (27 page)

“First and foremost,” Hansel the chairman began, “we want to thank the Tribunal for bringing us such an…engaging candidate for warden status.” He smiled in a way that was half exasperation, half amusement. I knew that exact feeling was one Brigit was uniquely capable of eliciting.

Sig nodded for Hansel to continue.

“While we were careful to weigh considerations from our Tribunal, ultimately the decision came down to our feelings on the candidate herself. That, paired with the evidence of her commitment to the council over the past year, has left us with only one possible course of action.”

My heart skipped a beat, and every vampire within a ten-foot radius turned to look at me. “Carry on, please,” I insisted.

“The vampire, Brigit Stewart, will henceforth be a warden within our council, with all rights, privileges and duties the title carries with it.”

Brigit, who’d had to say quiet and still for the whole duration of the process, suddenly leaped to her feet with a girlish squeal and clapped her hands, pure delight shining in her eyes. You would think the chairman had told her she’d won the lottery.

“Thank you.
Thank you
,” she gushed. “I won’t disappoint you, I promise.”

The chairman smiled, obviously quite taken with her.

Rebecca, who was seated beside Hansel, cleared her throat and got to her feet. “Warden, please sit down.”

Brigit’s ass found her seat so fast the chair scooted back a few inches.

“It did not escape the attention of the elders that this particular elevation carried with it a bit of animosity between members of the Tribunal. While it is not our place to interfere with matters that are so…beyond our understanding, we have agreed a stipulation should be placed on Miss Stewart’s advancement. One we believe will foster peace among the Tribunal.”

Sig went from his typical slouched position to sitting bolt upright in his throne. “A stipulation, you say? This is quite out of the ordinary, Rebecca.”

“Yes, Tribunal Leader Sig. However, the elders have observed that a great number of things have been out of the ordinary lately. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Sig frowned. “I am sure I would find logic in your thought process.” It wasn’t quite an agreement, nor was it a total shutdown.

I met Brigit’s gaze and wondered if I looked half as worried as she did.

“I think the Tribunal will like our suggestion, if you are willing to hear it.”

“Speak,” Juan Carlos barked.

“There is the matter of a rogue being kept within council walls. Alexandre Peyton has been imprisoned for one year under the auspices a proper punishment will be decided for him in due time.” As Rebecca spoke, a knot of unease formed between my shoulders and I felt sick to my stomach. “We believe given the relationship between the prisoner and one member of the Tribunal…” her gaze drifted to me and remained, “…it would be best if we, the elders, propose a sentence.”

“I don’t—”

Sig raised a hand and cut me off before I could voice my dissatisfaction with this decision.

Rebecca continued. “Since Tribunal Leader Secret brought us this new warden candidate, we believe the final decision over Peyton’s term of solitude should fall to her.”

“Okay, sure,” I said. “Forever and ever and ever. Longer if possible.”

“Yes, very good,” Rebecca replied with a smile that was too sinister for my tastes. “Only we are proposing a lifeline lock be placed on his prison.”

“A…what?”

Sig was frowning, but not at me. “A lifeline lock hasn’t been used in decades, Rebecca.”

“What is a lifeline lock?” I whispered, which was more than a little pointless given the hearing capabilities of those in the room.

“It’s an old custom we had for dealing with those locked away in solitude. In centuries past sometimes prisoners would be locked away for so long their crimes were forgotten and often the prisons themselves were buried or slipped out of memory.” Sig shrugged like this wasn’t as appalling as it sounded. “The lifeline lock was established so someone would always exist who remembered why a rogue was being kept, and if that person were to die…the prisoner would go free. But as long as the vampire who is locked to the prisoner lives, the rogue remains in solitude.”

“It is a practical solution,” Juan Carlos added. “But I don’t believe Secret has enough experience with the concept to be the one who decides.”

“I just need to pick someone, and as long as they’re alive, Peyton stays in lockdown?”

Rebecca nodded.

“I think I’m smart enough to figure out that one, Juan Carlos.”

My two other Tribunal leaders turned to watch me, and I stared at Rebecca. She was up to something—this plan was too out of left field to not benefit her in some way—I just couldn’t see how. She smiled.

“I volunteer my own life,” I said after a pause. I didn’t know how long I’d live, but with the vampire blood and the werewolf blood, it had to be long enough to figure out a different way to kill Peyton before I bit the big one. I looked at the lines on my palms for a moment before turning my hands down and gripping the armrests on my throne.

“You can’t.” Sig shook his head. He wasn’t saying it like he was shocked or upset. The words were a statement. I couldn’t offer myself. “As a Tribunal leader, you cannot enter into any bargain where your life is on the line.”

“Oh.”

But what then? I couldn’t just pick someone else’s life. Who would I choose? Holden? No… Though I was sure he’d volunteer if I asked, it didn’t seem right. Perhaps someone here would be a good choice, since they were all so damned old already. But…

“Maybe Brigit would like to volunteer,” Rebecca suggested. “As a first show of sacrifice for the council. Surely that isn’t too much to ask given what we are offering her.”

I was opening my mouth to say no, but Brigit spoke first. “Sure.” She was nodding as enthusiastically as I was shaking my head.

“You don’t have to do this,” I told her.

“It’s no big deal.” She shrugged and smiled warmly. “Besides, I’m a warden now. I have the protection of the council. With that and your training…I think I’ll be around for a while. Maybe longer than you.” She gave me a pointed look, and the gunshot scar on my shoulder throbbed in response.

She had a point, one she was trying to make without speaking. Everyone here knew I wasn’t all the way vampire, but none of us knew what that meant for my longevity. Brigit was a full vampire and she was part of the council now. All those things combined meant her life expectancy really was longer than mine.

“Well, I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Juan Carlos said, his new smile equal to Rebecca’s in creepy satisfaction.

I didn’t like it, and I didn’t want to agree. Rebecca had only one reason to suggest I pick Brigit, and it had nothing to do with logic. The council had made a choice that ended in one of her children being dead, and I’d been the one to kill him. Now she’d found a way to put my supposed child’s life in the hands of the council.

Eye for an eye.

Child for a child.

She couldn’t kill Brigit, but she
could
put her life in danger, and what better way than to attach it to Peyton’s. There was a certain poetry in Brigit tying her life to that of the vampire who had actually created her, but I was having trouble appreciating it. Her vampire death would mean his freedom, just as her human death had led to his imprisonment.

“Brigit, are you sure?”

“Yup.”

“You don’t have to do this. I could ask Holden.” When I said this, I made sure to look at Rebecca instead of Brigit. I wouldn’t put Holden at risk to prove a point to Rebecca, but I wanted to remind her she still had other children, and now the choice and the power were all in my hands. The elder’s face grew ashen, and she took her seat. Favorite or not, she didn’t want to see Holden take Brigit’s place. She wouldn’t push this further than she already had.

“I want to. To thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

The whole room was tense and quiet. Sig and Juan Carlos continued to watch me—I didn’t need to look at them to know it. The weight of their scrutiny was heavy.

“Okay.” My teeth ground together after I said it. “I will choose the warden, Brigit Stewart, as the lifeline lock on Alexandre Peyton.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Sig, Brigit and I stood side by side in front of the small door that kept Peyton at a safe distance from the rest of the world. The hall was so cramped we barely had enough room for three of us to stand.

“So what now?” Brigit asked, rocking on her heels. She was making a valiant effort to appear nonchalant, but I knew her well enough by now to recognize the unease creeping into her voice.

“Now we must open the door.”

My eyes widened. “Why?” I was in no mood to chat with Peyton again, not after our last tête-à-tête. If I went the remainder of my years, however many they might be, without seeing Peyton’s gaunt, creepy face ever again, I’d be all too happy.

“We need his blood,” Sig said matter-of-factly, ignoring my dismay.

There was no way we were getting out of this without opening the door. Fine. But that didn’t mean I had to set foot anywhere near—

“Secret,” Sig continued, “would you be so kind?”

“I…” I struggled to come up with a viable excuse, but he and I both knew I was perfectly aware of how to open the stupid door, and my blood would do the trick as easily as his would. “Fuck it. Fine.”

This time Sig didn’t need to draw blood for me. My fangs slid out with little coaxing, and I bit my own thumb. Pressing the blood against the door, I followed the steps as Sig had shown me before, and the swimming blue light slipped away as if afraid of my blood. The lock vanished and the door swung open as it had for Sig the first time we’d come down here.

Not that knowing what was coming made it any less fascinating to watch. Somehow it felt more magical now that it was my blood unlocking the seal.

I turned to Sig and held my hand out to the open door. “I’ve seen this show before.”

He didn’t budge. Instead, he held out a thin, sharp blade to me, handle first. “She is your responsibility. And so is he. Traditionally, it would be expected that you would draw his blood in a more…standard way. But I understand you might be too squeamish for that.”

Did Sig just imply I was too chickenshit to bite Peyton?

The knife was now more of a mockery than a tool I’d find good use for. How long was I going to have to fight for the council to take me seriously?

Gently, I pushed his hand away from me.

“I think I can handle one little vampire.” But the hard swallow that nearly caught in my throat made my unease apparent.

Before Sig could offer me the knife again, I ducked under the low doorframe, leaving the Tribunal leader and my ward out in the hall. Once again, I was alone with Peyton. My head was spinning with the scary reality of what I was expected to do.

“Couldn’t…get…enough.” His rasping voice brought me back to my senses.

I moved as close to the husk of Peyton as I dared. “I’m not planning to make a habit of it.”

“You look…delicious.” His withered lips, still oozing a clear liquid, made a crackling noise as he tried to grin at me. The result was a menacing grimace, his lips sticking to his gums, showing me his one good fang and the too-long roots of his other teeth.

“Red is a good color on me,” I replied.

“I…once…painted you… So. Very. Red.” His last three words were spoken with perfectly clarity, no drawn-out wheeze in between like the previous ones. He said them with eerie precision, each vowel short, the consonants clipped and thick with his accent. I looked over my shoulder, hoping to see an easy escape. Instead, Sig was leaning against the wall near the door, watching me with a guarded expression.

I couldn’t be a scared teenager anymore, which was how Peyton always made me feel. Now I had to be a Tribunal leader, ruthless and cunning. My blood had to run cold if I was going to survive in the vampire world.

If they wanted me to be like them, I was going to show them just how much of a vampire I could be.

“Do you remember how my blood tasted?” I asked, crawling closer. My glare bored into his rapt gaze, those eyes black with hunger and edged with madness. In spite of his crazed appearance, the methodical killer I once knew was still in there. “When you swallow the
nothing
you are given, do you remember the last drink you had?” My head angled to one side, and I narrowed my eyes. “Is it sweet, Peyton?” Another inch closer. “Or do I taste fucking bitter on your tongue?”

He tried and failed to lick his lips.

My fangs were still extended, and it was my turn to give him my best, most demented smile. It wasn’t something I had to fake. Being near him brought something ugly out in me. “I wonder how
you
taste.”

The blackness receded from his irises for the barest fraction of a second, and I saw what I was desperately hoping for. Fear. Since I was sixteen he had been the monster I’d been most scared of. The bastard who had taught me the limits of my own mortality.

And now he was scared of me.

I edged closer still, and he tried to recoil.