The First was sitting straight up, staring at her progeny with wide eyes.
“Are you certain?” Amalthea’s voice rang through the space.
Othello straightened. “I am, Mother.”
Certain about what?
Amalthea’s beautiful lips twisted into a sneer, and she abruptly stood, tossing her Source to the ground. The woman cried out as she slammed into the marble tile, but the First didn’t glance at the mortal.
“Everyone but the Firsts and my son, get out now!” Amalthea’s order was as cold as ice.
Servants raced to obey her commands even as murmurs of confusion rose among the Twelve. The room was empty in a minute.
Their host’s black eyes narrowed, and obsidian wings burst from her back. Shadows curled around her, and she snarled. The low, vicious sound echoed through the room. With a wave of her hand, she erected a massive privacy ward made of darkness, ensuring no one could hear their discussion.
“Something awful has happened.” Amalthea’s voice deepened as shadows poured out of her.
“What’s going on?” Therese asked, putting down her goblet.
“It’s thehumans.” Amalthea spat the word as though it had poisoned her and looked to Othello. “Tell them, my son.”
The vampire turned, his eyes as hard as diamonds. “They’ve taken vampires hostage and restrained them with silver and prohiberis. And then…” He swallowed, and his face paled. “Then they’re torturing them.”
Snarls ripped around the room, each more vicious than the last.
“They dare touch the children of our blood?” This came from Bartholomew, who stood so abruptly that the low table he’d been sitting at toppled over.
“Not just touching. They’re killing them, my lord.” Othello’s hand trembled at his side. “Brutally.”
“How many?” Preston asked.
“All the ones they can find,” Othello rasped. “I think some went into hiding. I escaped and came straight here.”
A heartbeat passed as the meaning of his words set in, and then, chaos erupted.
Screams filled the room.
Someone yelled that they wouldn’t let this go unpunished.
Preston bellowed, the anguished sound echoing through the palatial room before it transformed into a snarl. Fury radiated from every one of his pores until it was indistinguishable from where it ended and her former lover began.
“I will kill them all,” Preston vowed, coming to his feet and clenching his fists. “Every single human in this kingdom will die for daring to lay a finger on our kind. Who do they think they are?”
“They’re less than dirt,” Amalthea responded. She’d changed into a vampiric blur and now wore black fighting leathers. “I agree with Preston. We destroy them all for this and avenge our children. Who’s with us?”
The Firsts roared.
“Good.” Darkness shimmered around their host. “No mortal is left alive. Understood?”
The Twelve were in agreement. This was the highest form of insult, and the only appropriate payment was death.
Therese stood, inhaled deeply, and flexed her fingers. Her fangs ached, and she smiled grimly.
She would feast on blood tonight.
The Firsts exited the room. The servants stood in two lines, their backs pressed against the walls. They stared at the vampires, confusion flickering through their eyes. A few of them trembled, perhaps sensing their impending deaths.
None of them dared run.