“Very good.” She spoke as though she hadn’t just made Brynleigh wait an ungodly amount of time. “I sent the crew to clean up after you.”
She spun the board again and went back to studying the game.
Gods damn it. At this rate, Brynleigh would be here all night.
Her lips tingled, but she refused to think about Ryker. She couldn’t afford any distractions right now.
Forcing the handsome fae captain from her mind, her gaze moved studiously through the room. She drank in every detail, dedicating them to memory. She would sort through them later, searching for signs that Jelisette was working with the Black Night.
Eventually, the older vampire pushed back from the table. She stood, her movements fluid with immortal vampiric grace, and tilted her head.
“Come to my study.”
Jelisette stepped into the Void without waiting to see if her command had been heard. She didn’t need to. Brynleigh was her progeny, and she would obey her.
At least, that was how Maker bonds were meant to work.
Brynleigh wasn’t sure if it was because of her time in the Choosing, her attachment to Ryker, or the fact that her heart twisted in knots when she thought about Jelisette’s multiple betrayals and lies, but the Maker bond didn’t seem as strong as it used to be.
In the past, when vampires were allowed to draw blood directlyfrom Sources, Makers could summon their progeny through the bond. That was one of the many gifts vampires no longer had access to, thanks to the “humane” blood banks.
For once, Brynleigh was grateful that the Representatives had placed strict laws over vampires. The less control her Maker had over her, the better.
Less than a minute after Jelisette vanished into the darkness, Brynleigh released her shadows. Calling on the moon goddess’s magic was as easy as drawing breath, and she moved through the Void with the ease of stepping from one place to the next.
Brynleigh landed in front of Jelisette’s desk, where her Maker pressed a phone against her ear.
Jelisette was scribbling on a piece of paper. She didn’t even look up as the younger vampire arrived, instead lifting a finger in the air.
Brynleigh barely bit back a sigh.
Back to waiting.
Shadows rippled around the desk, and a tingle of magic swept over the younger vampire’s skin. Even though her Maker’s lips moved, Brynleigh couldn’t hear a thing. Many vampires used privacy wards to create walls of magic that blocked all sound from coming through.
Instead of expending her energy on the fruitless endeavor of trying to hear what her Maker was saying, Brynleigh assessed this space much like the last.
The only door was at her back. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves took up space on two walls, crammed with leather-bound books. A famous painting,The Weeping Widow,covered the only window, blocking all light from the shadowy space.
The artist’s dark depiction made Brynleigh’s blood run cold. A naked, bloody human woman knelt in a crimson pool. Her hands were outstretched to the heavens. A silent scream contorted her features, and tears flowed down her face. The background was a swirl of scarlet and black, as if the sky was bleeding.
Brynleigh had always hated that painting and how the woman looked like her heart had been ripped from her chest.
She tore her gaze away from it, refocusing on the desk. A solitary green lamp illuminated the papers strewn over the wooden surface. A quill sat next to an ink pot; both remnants of times passed. The carpet was crimson beneath Brynleigh’s feet.
It was dark, just like her Maker’s heart.
Other than the phone still pressed against Jelisette’s ear, the room was technology-free. The older vampire had often said that while she understood the value of computers, she didn’t like them. She’d avoided using technology as much as possible, and she forced Zanri to keep all their electronics in his office in the safe house.
Several minutes later, Jelisette hung up the phone and closed the folder. Waving a hand, she dismantled the ward and looked at Brynleigh. The young vampire barely suppressed a shiver.
Jelisette interwove her hands together, rested her elbows on the wood, and cradled her chin on her intertwined fingers.
“Tell me, daughter of my blood, why did your husband release you from The Pit?” The words were silky-soft but laced with an unmasked threat of violence.
Brynleigh’s skin pricked. Maybe she should’ve spent more time trying to hear through the ward. Who had been on the call?
She swallowed, twisting her fingers in front of her for half a second before realizing that was a nervous tell. She stopped and forced herself to remain calm.