A Spell of Death

CHAPTER THREE-2

"WE NEED TO FIND THE Blade of the Sun." Rhys voice was so low even he barely heard the words over the squabbling vampires. And the eerily quiet werecat...she had clearly heard him. She shifted in her crouch, her Madeira eyes flicking to him, the flecks of gold sparking like fire. Even though she was currently human, her sharp face still appeared feline. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder this time, fighting against the pit at his solar plexus that weighed him down. "We need to find the blade. The one from the drawing of the three blades." The vampires quieted this time, and either looked at him sidelong or shuffled a bit away. The pity in their eyes turned his spine to steel. His lips pressed together. Pity was not something he was used, and he was not comfortable with it. Scorn, distaste and curiosity he'd grown accustomed to, but not pity. He snorted. Without Dar to forge a path, if pity got their attention, it would have to do. "Night is coming, and it's the one thing that might stop her. Or so the ancient texts allude."

"I thought you said they were cryptic." Mina glanced up at him from where she sat on the floor. There was a tension in her eyes but no pity. "They spoke in riddles."

"They do, but the riddles speak of the Blade of Sun conquering Night."

"They also say the blade is broken, the pieces sent to the corners of the earth." Seema stood up from her crouch, keeping her eyes fixed on him. "Locked in a prison of puzzles. Besides, we stopped Night." She slunk towards him. Someone had found her clothes, and threads in the loose pants glinted in the low light. Her eyes narrowed as she neared him, crinkling crow's feet at the corners. "Or, should I say, I stopped her. Don't you remember, old man? I cut the head off her herald."

Rhys adjusted his bowtie, then met her gaze. "That means you stopped the herald. I believe...." Knowing his voice was quiet, too timid, he cleared his throat again. "Night still comes."

"You're starting to sound like Mike." Her voice was hard, but there was softness in her face as she peered at him.

He looked down between his shoes and her bare feet for a second, and debated giving up, going home to curl up with his cat, Grey, a large book in one hand and a small Scotch in the other. But the steel remained. He forced himself to meet her eyes again, and they stared at each other for long seconds, Rhys unable to decipher what was going on in the feline's head. Despite her human form, her gaze hinted that she was thinking he'd be good for dinner.

"Mike turned out to be right." Mina's voice was quiet, but Seema sent a sharp glance at her before returning her attention to Rhys.

"The Blade of the Sun is a myth," she said. "A figment of some long-lost writer's lost mind. Maybe you're losing your mind too." Her voice was quiet and even. "Grief can do that to people."

"That's a low blow." Mina stood up and came forward, pulling her shoulders back.

Rhys gave a brusque shake of his head then stood even straighter. It caused his back to moan but let him speak louder without clearing his throat. "You're a figment of people's imagination. Sometimes even myths forget they're based on something real. But yes, grief can drive people to do crazy things, like beheading the only creature who knows anything about Night."

"And what would you have had me do?" Sparks flared in her eyes again as they narrowed even further. Her lips pulled back into a feral snarl.

"Enough snipping." Bee stepped forward from where she'd been leaning against one of the Sanctuary's pillars. He turned his head to meet her gaze; with both Dar and Jack gone, she was the only one left with the power to corral the conclave. "What evidence do you have that Night comes?" Her words were rough and quiet, hinting at how tired she was.

Rhys shrugged. "What evidence did we have for Angelos, for the gargoyles? Rumours until the dying started."

"We no longer have the people to spare for hunting down rumours." Bee examined her hands and seemed about to say something more but didn't get the chance.

Instead Seema spoke again, shaking her head. "You're wrong, ignoring the most clear and present danger. And your blindness will get people killed."

"Well, if I'm wrong, what do you suggest we do?" He kept himself rigid as he spoke.

She took a step back, rocking on her feet, which she refused to clad in shoes despite the cold. Her knees bent slightly, as if she was preparing to kick him in the head. Instead she said something he didn't expect.

"Hunt the wolves. Kill them."

"What? There was only one with the herald, and it took off with...Lin." He fidgeted with his bowtie again. "What danger is one wolf compared to Night?"

"Not one wolf. All the wolves. Wipe their cancer from the earth."

"You don't mean that."

"They're a plague."

Mina gaped at the woman. "You can't kill an entire species. That's genocide."

Seema lifted a shoulder in a lopsided shrug. "Why not? They did it to us, and if Night is coming — IF — they're the army that will pave the way. Gargoyles make a statement but wolves are the foot soldiers."

"But...there are good wolves," Rhys said.

Seema stared at him, her expression unreadable. "The only good dog is a dead dog."

"You're both wrong." Bee stepped between him and Seema, breaking the standoff. Rhys allowed himself to slouch a bit, letting the tiredness seep into his bones again. Once more, he wished Dar was there.

Seema turned her fiery appraisal on Bee. "What do you mean?"

Bee didn't flinch or back down. "We go after Jack."

Seema snorted. "He's lost, skewered with a poisoned blade." She tempered her tone, her voice softening into its normal lilt, as Mina glared at her. "He's likely dead already. The sooner you accept the loss, the better." Rhys watched, trying to remain neutral and out of the way as he waited for the strike. Bee's nostrils flared and Mina stepped towards the Were with a clenched fist. But the blows didn't come.

Instead Bee spoke, her voice quiet but hard as steel. "You're not one of us. You don't get a vote." She turned to the conclave, and it hit Rhys again how diminished they were, how beaten up they appeared. "What say we?" She went around the assembled vampires, asking for their vote, and as she did, a spark of life came into them again.

Then the voting stopped, as Bee waited for Mina to answer. She looked from the Were to him to Bee. "You can do whatever you want, but I need to find out what's wrong with Cam, and how to fix her." The other vampires looked at her like she'd just suggested she needed to drink a cup of silver.

"Jack's one of us," Bee said. "He's family."

A tear trailed down Mina's face; she made no move to wipe it away. "I know. And we need to find him. But she's my family too." Rhys saw the tension in her eyes as she looked towards him. "Besides, she was there. She might be able to tell us about what the herald was planning, and whether Night still is a threat. Maybe where they might have taken Jack."

Looking at her, Rhys was sure she just wanted to save her friend, not support him, but he latched onto the flimsy thread anyway. "If Dar were here—"

Bee interrupted him. "But he's not here, is he?" she snapped. "He went and got himself killed."

"Bee!" Adeh said, his eyes going wide.

"I'm sorry, but it's true. He abandoned us, and for what?"

The firmness in Rhys' voice was surprising even to him when he spoke. "To stop Night. Dar knew that was the priority. He knew it was the right thing to do."