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2 Minutes to Midnight: Urban Fantasy Midnight Trilogy Book 2 Page 2
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“Don’t you think I know that?” He tugged a hand through his unkempt hair. “I’d like to see you convince her.”
Cormac’s hearty laugh boomed down the phone. “She sounds like your mother.”
The thought of his stubborn, strong-willed mother brought a smile to Ethan’s face, and after a moment, he found himself laughing too.
“There’s something else you should know.” Cormac grew serious. “I contacted William. I was due to check-in with him anyway, so I thought I could feel him out a bit. The Council has called an emergency assembly tomorrow night.”
Ethan’s blood ran cold. William was his father’s cousin and sat on the Council as head of the werewolves. If he’d been called to an emergency meeting, it could only mean one thing.
“Did you tell him about Phoenix?”
“What do you think I am, a young pup?”
“Sorry, it’s just …” He trailed off before he could put his fear into words and give it life.
The meeting couldn’t mean anything good for Phoenix. It was true that she hadn’t technically broken any of the Council’s edicts – she could hardly be blamed for being born a product of an inter-species relationship. But with her parents now dead, the Council would need someone to make an example of, and what better person than the hybrid who was also responsible for triggering a doomsday prophecy.
“She’s still welcome here.” Cormac’s soft-spoken words broke through his thoughts. “All of your friends are welcome here. Come home, Son.”
And with that, he was gone.
Darius pulled the black cloak low over his head as he stepped out of the portal and into the large indoor amphitheatre that formed the centre of the Council headquarters in Brussels. He kept his face angled, allowing the material of his robes to shadow the burns that still covered the left side of his face. His right hand clenched the silver coin he held, and he relished the distraction of the burning pain. That pain, he could heal from.
Around him, the chamber began to fill as other Witnesses stepped through similar portals and formed a sea of identical black robes. The supernatural signatures were so potent that they mixed together to form something almost unrecognisable, but all were accounted for: vampire, werewolf, fae, witch, and shifter.
All pure blood.
He weaved between the stone pillars, keeping to the shadows as he made his way closer to the platform at the front of the room. The low hum of conversation surrounded him, but he ignored the other Witnesses. They were irrelevant.
Once the last portal closed and they were closed in by solid stone walls, a hollow gong rang out. A hush fell over the room and the lights dimmed.
All eyes turned towards the raised platform where five figures now stood. Shrouded in blood red cloaks, their faces were hidden and their forms indistinct. Power emanated from the group and the air became heavy with its oppressive weight.
The Council.
Anger flared in Darius’s chest and he clenched his teeth against their not-so-subtle show of superiority. They knew nothing of power, but they would soon enough.
Like sheep, the Witnesses took their places, forming a semicircle around the platform. Another gong rang out, and a man stepped forward through a break in the crowd. His fitted grey suit immediately set him apart from those surrounding him, and Darius sneered.
Vicktor. He knew the snivelling weasel wouldn’t be able to hold his nerve.
As he watched, the chief representative of the Council Liaison Office bowed his head in reverence to the five figures before him. One by one, the Council lowered their hoods.
First, the long red hair and sultry pout of Méabh, the head of the fae, became visible. Darius couldn’t help but note the resemblance to Jessica Rabbit – if Jessica Rabbit had magic powers and was inclined to slit your throat.
Next, William’s rugged features were revealed as he shoved the hood back from his face. The head of the werewolves had a wild, unkempt appearance that matched the feral quality of his signature. He seemed completely out of place in such an official setting, yet he held himself with an assurance that left no question as to his position.
Diana, the head of the witches, followed suit. Her long blonde hair appeared almost as a halo that was starkly contrasted by her resting bitch face. Kam, the head of the shifters, who was easily identifiable by his shorter stature, stood beside her. He, too, lowered his hood, revealing Asian features and an unreadable expression.
Vlad, the head of the vampires, was the last to remove his hood. More like a politician than the head of a powerful supernatural species, he graced the room with his smarmy smile.
Darius gripped the coin tighter in his hand as he pushed down the urge to wipe the smile away in a slow and excruciating manner. This vampire wasn’t fit to stand where his Sire had. It was an insult to Il Maestro’s legacy and their entire species that they were now forced to bow down to this.
Patience, he reminded himself as the silver seared into his palm.
In a gesture filled with all the arrogance of the man, Vlad stepped forward, taking centre stage. “You may speak,” he ordered, his voice ringing clear throughout the chamber.
“Council.” Vicktor cleared his throat and straightened his suit jacket. “Witnesses. It is with a grave heart that I stand before you today. The CLO was recently contacted by a member of our society. A werewolf. He expressed some concerns regarding recent activity in the Lore and wanted to speak to the Council. Of course, we don’t normally entertain such requests, but this werewolf had knowledge of a certain prophecy …”
Murmurs filled the chamber, creating an anxious hum. Darius tensed. Just how much did Vicktor intend to divulge?
“… And he claimed to be in the presence of a hybrid.”
Silence.
For what felt like an eternity, no one spoke. The implication of Vicktor’s statement settled around the room, acting like a weight that pinned everyone in place.
“So, Cassandra saw true,” Diana whispered, her words and the resignation they held clearly audible in the deafening silence.
At the mention of the Seer’s name, chaos broke out around Darius, angry exclamations and worried cries that achieved nothing. The prophecy was infamous among those privy to the Council’s history; it was a closely guarded secret that many centuries ago foretold the coming of the Horsemen … and an end to their way of life.
Fools, all of them. They clung to their way of life like it was something of worth, like they’d all forgotten the true greatness of the Lore. They settled for scraps and fought against the inevitable. Not Darius.
While they cowered in fear of the rising tide, he welcomed it. And for that, he would be rewarded. They would see the folly of their ways when he finally took his place at the right hand of the Horsemen. They would bow to him.
“How do we know it’s true?” a voice called from the crowd.
Murmurs of agreement and similar questions followed, the room only falling quiet when Vlad held up a hand to silence them.
“Did this werewolf provide any proof of his claim?” William crossed his arms in front of his chest and raised an eyebrow in undisguised scepticism.
There was something oddly familiar in his expression, but Darius didn’t have time to think on it as Vicktor nodded in response to the question and the room once more erupted around him.
“SILENCE.” Vlad motioned for Vicktor to continue, a single warning glance enough to bring order.
“The werewolf spoke the truth. There is a hybrid,” Vicktor confirmed solemnly. “I met with them both personally … to discuss their concerns.”
“It would appear our attempts to stop the prophecy have failed.” Méabh sashayed forward, stopping just ahead of Vlad. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and gave him a saccharine smile. “Your edict doesn’t seem to have had the effect you hoped for.”
The vampire snarled.
“Enough.” Kam didn’t move from his position or raise his voice. If anything, the Japanese shifter appeared almost
bored with the proceedings. Looks could be very deceiving however, and both Vlad and Méabh retreated back into line at his order. “The prophecy has been triggered. We must decide our next steps.”
Each of the Council members pulled up the hood of their cloak, and the lights of the chamber dimmed while they deliberated among themselves.
Darius turned his gaze to Vicktor while he waited. The CLO rep stood stiff, his hands clasped in front of him as he pointedly kept his eyes forward. All it would take was one wrong word on his part and Darius’s plans would be made significantly more difficult. Perhaps the weasel had outlived his usefulness.
Only a couple of minutes passed before the room brightened, and the Council turned back to face the Witnesses with their hoods lowered. There was a tension between them that indicated not all were happy about the decision they’d arrived at.
Once more it was Vlad who stepped forward. “For the sake of all the Lore, the hybrid must die.”
***
The night air was crisp as Darius slipped unseen from the Council chambers. He’d heard all he needed to hear, and the fraught discussions and concerned murmurings were of little consequence to him.
A block away from the Council building, he found Vicktor waiting for him in a narrow alley that stank of garbage and other unfavourable aromas that burned the back of his throat. The CLO rep squirmed and tugged the collar of his tailored coat close as he made a concerted effort not to touch anything in the dingy space.
“I was hoping to speak to you.” Vicktor gave an impatient huff as his body twitched with its obvious desire to escape the alley.
Darius inclined his head and stepped into the shadows, effectively blocking the other man in.
“I assume you heard the decree?”
“Yes. And I’m not pleased, Vicktor. We need the hybrid alive. I warned you not to approach the Council with this information.”
The CLO rep squared his shoulders, his defiance and snooty air bringing him closer to a final death than he could have possibly imagined.
“You’ve been missing for two weeks, Darius. I couldn’t wait any longer. Your name has been kept out of it for now, and I’ve convinced them to let the CLO organise the hit. That is already more than I’m comfortable doing.”
Darius’s hand flexed involuntarily, and he put it into his pocket to stop himself from tearing out the man’s throat.
“Comfort is not something we have the luxury of if we’re to restore the Lore to its former glory. You know that.” Darius kept his tone amicable despite the murderous thoughts playing through his mind. “If the Council succeeds, we’ll be back to square one. All of our work will have been for nothing.”
Vicktor picked his briefcase up off the ground and brushed it off with a grimace. “If your hybrid is as impressive as you say, she will be able to fend for herself. If not? Well then …”
With that, he pushed past Darius and stalked from the alley.
Lily tossed and turned in the bed. Sweat-soaked sheets tangled around her legs and she kicked at them, biting back a scream of frustration. Her eyes burned with exhaustion and she longed for a single night of dreamless sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, the thoughts came.
Darkness had become a familiar companion since Annabelle’s death. Night after night she lay in her sister’s bed, clutching the stuffed unicorn that had been Annabelle’s since she was a baby. If she tried hard enough, she could still catch a hint of her sister’s scent from the soft toy and unwashed sheets. When she closed her eyes, she could still picture her sister’s innocent smile. But it was all fading. She was running out of time.
That thought brought with it a panic greater than any of the other memories or what-ifs that plagued her. The thought that her sister would fade from memory before she could do anything to stop it.
She flung the covers off her legs and sat up in the bed, panting as her chest grew tighter. Her fists clenched and unclenched reflexively. It was as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. She forced herself to close her eyes and count to twenty.
You’re not going to die, she reminded herself. You wouldn’t be that lucky.
After a time, her breathing slowed and her lungs once more obeyed the command to expand. Resigned to yet another sleepless night, she slipped from the bed and checked the bedroom door to make sure it was locked.
Ethan and the others had turned in hours before, but she paused for a second, listening for any sign of movement in the apartment.
Only when she was satisfied did she return to the bed. She reached her hand under the mattress and pulled out a box roughly the size of a book. Wooden, and covered in paint that wasn’t quite white anymore, there were scuff marks along the edges and the glass top was smudged with fingerprints. Four faces smiled back at her from the photo held within that glass, and her fingertips shook as she tenderly traced the image of her family.
Two minutes. That was all the time she would allow herself. If she looked at the picture any longer, she would break.
With a shuddering breath, she opened the metal clasp on the edge of the box and raised the lid. Even in the darkness the Ouroboros gleamed. Preparing herself for the guilt that always came with her first touch, she lifted the gold plaque out of the box and held the weight in her hands.
Memories came flooding back unbidden: standing in the dark underground chamber, the walls painted with blood and the aftereffects of death. The lingering taint of black magic. The realisation that it wasn’t over.
When the fabric began to tear and they discovered exactly what Darius had achieved with his spell, she’d almost been relieved. They’d failed. They didn’t have to fight anymore. Soon, it would be over and she could be with Annabelle and her parents again. The aching emptiness would be gone.
It was only when someone mentioned the Ouroboros that a new possibility occurred to her. She could fix it all. Annabelle’s death, Darius’s spell, all of it. She could turn back time and make it as if it never happened.
But in order for her to do that, she would need the Ouroboros. Which meant no one else could have it.
On the rare nights when sleep came, Lily found herself back in that chamber, watching Phoenix’s world shatter as her parents stepped into the black void. The weight of the Ouroboros would grow heavy in her hands as she silently let Marcus and Aria sacrifice themselves. It would pull her down and she’d find herself drowning in a sea of red. Only then would she wake up, gasping for breath with tears streaming down her cheeks.
What was worse than any of that, however, was the look on Aria’s face. The quick glance of compassion she’d turned towards Lily before confirming to the others that her search of the witch had shown no sign of the Ouroboros. She’d sacrificed herself knowing that Lily held the means to save her.
And she could still save her. She could make it all right.
Lily clutched that thought to her like a life buoy as she closed her eyes. Focusing on the weight of the Ouroboros, she opened her mind to its energy and prayed. This time it would work.
The sun was setting low on the horizon as Phoenix pulled her Mustang up outside Ethan’s apartment and cut the engine. The converted warehouse was surrounded on three sides by the docks, and the lights of the city reflected like a mirage on the water, ebbing and flowing with the tide.
She cast her eyes towards Abi in the passenger seat and noticed her friend absently picking at her nails. The drive there had been unusually quiet, and attempts at conversation had been met with distracted, one-word answers. The strange atmosphere was making Phoenix antsy.
It wasn’t the first time Abi had come with her to Ethan’s place. Ever since Abi had gotten a crash course on the Lore, they’d all made a conscious effort to ensure she was as comfortable in their world as possible, Ethan especially. And now that Phoenix thought about it, Abi had asked to come; she’d even organised cover for the bar.
So, why did this suddenly feel like a very bad idea?
“Come on. The others will be waiting.�
�� She flashed Abi a reassuring smile and climbed out into the chill of the evening. There’d be time enough to question her friend’s strange mood later; first, she had a lecture to face.
Ethan had called two days ago to fill her in on the update from Cormac. It had been clear from his tone that he had his knickers in a twist, and she’d resigned herself to yet another argument about her safety. It didn’t stop her putting him off … or winding him up a little.
The memory of his frustrated growl when she’d regrettably informed him she wouldn’t be free for a group meeting until Saturday brought a smile to her face. She could even picture the small muscle at the side of his jaw that was no doubt twitching as he ground his teeth together.
As much as she wanted to though, she couldn’t put him off forever.
The rich smell of coffee beckoned her through the door of the upper floor apartment and into the open-plan living room where she found the others already assembled. Nate was perched on the edge of the leather sofa. His floppy brown hair fell into his amber eyes as he leaned over something that looked suspiciously like a Rubik’s cube. The tech-loving shifter gestured excitedly to the vampire beside him as he held the object up for closer inspection, completely oblivious to the new arrivals.
Not impressed by Nate’s enthusiasm, Shade slouched in the corner of the sofa with a surly expression held firmly in place. As she walked further into the room, his icy blue eyes flicked to her and the temperature seemed to drop to Arctic conditions.
She gave the vampire her friendliest smile, just for the satisfaction of making his scowl deepen.
A further survey found Lily at the large oak dining table with a mug clasped in her hands and a vacant expression on her face. The sight of the young witch pulled Phoenix up short.
Lily had seemed haggard when she’d last seen her a few days ago, but now she looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. The circles under her eyes had grown darker and appeared almost black in the dim light, and her once lustrous blonde hair hung unwashed in a limp ponytail.