Demetrius (3 page)

“The shifters are having a hard enough time getting used to working with us, incorporating vampires into their Guardian ranks.”

“
Our
Guardian ranks,” Rourke corrected. “They protect both species now.”

Demetrius waved him off. Maybe he’d be more concerned merging the vampire and shifter world if he didn’t have demons on the brain.
“I want solid evidence that demons and vampires are working together. I want to know who, what, where, when, and why before I bring any of this to the Synod.”

“Technically, it’s already been brought to the Synod since you and Zoey know about it.” Bishop Laurent, might look like a thug, but he was a crafty bastard.

“True. The Vampire Council was funding Sigma to do their dirty work. We destroyed them and found evidence of use of the dark arts. All we can make are assumptions. I want details.”

Rourke pushed back from the table, crossed his arms, and looked even more dark and brooding than normal. “I’ve been studying the pictures of the altars we found in the Sigma compounds before we destroyed everything. I haven’t been able to pinpoint who’s involved.”

“But the fact that we found altars—plural—leads me to believe there’s been an underground network of vampire’s practicing dark magic. Otherwise, where did those running Sigma get the knowledge?”

Zoey gave the most unfeminine snort. “If it was just worshipping the dark arts, we wouldn’t be sitting here worrying our pretty little asses about it. We all suspect they’ve been able to accomplish more. The vampires who are a teeny bit upset about Demetrius overthrowing the Vampire Council, and then helping form the Synod, are scrambling for any source of power they can use to take control back.”

“And it hasn’t been a recent development,” Bishop rumbled in his deep baritone.

Demetrius didn’t have to stop and consider his massive friend’s words. Dude was right. “Why haven’t we known? Every one of us in this room all feels strongly that there’s some underworld shit happening on earth. We’re going to prove it and put a stop to it.”

Creed Chevalier grinned. “No one can say you ever lack confidence, boss.” With his dirty blond hair and light blues eyes, he was a one-eighty from Rourke’s olive complexion and onyx eyes. Even in personality, since Creed’s hobby was teasing Rourke about his serious demeanor.

Rourke was solid. Demetrius was close with the male, had known him longer than anyone in the room. He hadn’t once seen the guy lose his temper. He’d seen him do everything from fighting to fucking, the guy didn’t lose control. Ever.

“Let me hit the clubs.” It was the first Demetrius heard from the other female in the room, Ophelia Lefevre.

“I haven’t been stopping you.”

“No. The
clubs
.”

He frowned. “They’re all shut down.”
Prime families had loved their versions of country clubs that held a more refined version of debauchery than in mainstream vampire society. The delights of spiked blood drinks and tasty flesh were second only to the underhanded political dealings among the guests. 

“Vampires with power can’t stand to not display that power. They might not have been into all that dark shit, but they were into their gatherings. Once they start to gather, it’s only a matter of time before the darkness creeps in to use them.”

“After what I did, many prime families would be willing to be used.” Demetrius considered Ophelia’s suggestion. “Aren’t you afraid they’ll think you’re a spy?”

“Not if I go in bitching about how arrogant and power hungry you are. About how you didn’t share the power when you elected Zoey to sit next to you on the TriSpecies Synod instead of me.”

Ophelia had a real bite to her voice. Utterly believable. Every member in this room decided who’d sit on the council, and many of them thought Ophelia would’ve made a good candidate. Only she’d adamantly declined.
I’d rather dig my eyeballs out with a dirty Q-tip
.

“Be careful,” he warned her.

“Duh.”

“That’s so sweet,” Creed piped up. “How come you never remind me to watch my back?”

Demetrius ignored him. They were all highly protective of Ophelia. Petite, with warm chocolate eyes, and skin that shimmered like polished topaz, she drew on the protective instincts of them all. Bishop had called her Gem once, joking that she was their precious gem, but the busted nose he’d sported afterward ended that attempt.

“We need to start with the fifteen members of the council who oversaw Sigma. Each and every one of them had to know what was going on, perhaps even helped them. We’ll split the families up for each of us to investigate.”

His phone buzzed on the tabletop. It was his assistant. Surprise alone made him answer it. He’d taken pity on Betty when he’d found her wandering the streets after having served a councilmember’s household for centuries. No council meant no more money for the family, and they’d booted Betty like last season’s Piguet watch. Her knowledge of technology hadn’t even approached the rotary phone era, but she was learning. Slowly.

“Betty?”

“Master,” she hollered.

Demetrius winced, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Betty, love. You don’t need to shout.”

“Oh. Apologies, Master. There’s a young female here to see you.” Betty’s volume hadn’t lowered in the slightest. And she refused to quit calling him master. “She insists it’s urgent, and she wants to speak with you privately.”

Bishop covered a snicker; Creed snorted. Demetrius glared at them both. Betty clucked after them like the mother hen she’d been for several hundred years, and they loved to see her frustrate Demetrius.

“I’m in an important meeting.”
That I told you about. And told you not to disturb me
. “Find out what she needs and I’ll arrange for one of us to help her.”

He heard a hushed voice come through the phone. It was soft, but firm. His mysterious visitor was quite insistent.

“Master!”

“Betty, please. You don’t need to yell into the phone.” A dull ache throbbed at his temples and he debated going back to Morse code with his assistant.

“Apologies again, Master. Her name is Callista Augustus, and she must speak with
you
.”

He looked around the room. Their looks must match his own: questioning with raised eyebrows. “Edgar Augustus’ daughter?”

“Yes!”

Demetrius yanked the phone from his ear. Damn. He’d meet with her before Betty and his iPhone set off a migraine. “Fine, I’ll be right out.”

Rourke sat forward with his elbows on the table, his fingertips steepled. “Crazy Edgar never lets his girl out of the house.” 

“Oh, she’s gotten out,” Ophelia disagreed. “What daddy don’t know don’t hurt him.” 

“I’ll take Crazy Edgar then,” Demetrius said, “since this Callista insists on a private showing.”

Bishop grinned. “You always get the private showings.”

Not these days. “Let me know who’s investigating who and we’ll reconvene in a week, same time. This all stays between us.”

He rubbed his temples as he left the meeting room and made his way to the upper level where Betty’s office was attached to his. The compound was designed so their living quarters and armory were underground, while the offices and gym were above ground. Only the board room was in the lower levels because they often met during the day when things were quiet. So he wouldn’t get disturbed. Like tonight.

This Callista would’ve been searched for weapons and her scent evaluated for intent to harm. The fact that she’d made it as far as Betty’s office was a good sign for Demetrius.

Taking the stairs, he racked his memory with each step. Edgar Augustus. The male’s powerful bloodline had helped him earn a council chair in the late 1800’s. He was at least another hundred years older than Demetrius’ one-twenty. If he recalled, Edgar’s daughter was young, perhaps a teenager?

He entered Betty’s office.

No. Definitely not a teenager.

The hostility in the female’s aquamarine eyes did nothing to detract from her elegant beauty. She stood at least eight inches shorter than his six-foot-four, but held herself like a queen. Her spun-butter blonde hair was twisted up in a bun that his fingers itched to undo. So much softness should be shared, swept over his chest as she kissed her way down...

Where did that thought come from? He didn’t do females who hated him. The look in her eyes was like a flaming Molotov cocktail. And it was aimed right at him. Yet it didn’t douse the instant burn of arousal warming his groin, threatening to tent his tactical pants.

“Well, I’m here,” he barked and marched toward the door of his chamber. It irritated him, the immediate effect she had.

He passed Betty and her censuring glare. Asserting herself to Demetrius was nothing new. To an old battle axe like Betty, he was still a snot-nosed youngling with holes in his britches. This look was different. It dawned on him that she might know of Callista Augustus after having served the family of a council member for centuries.

He’d saved Betty’s ass, given her shelter and a job, and yet this young blonde stomped into his office and commanded his assistant’s respect over him?

Curbing any gentlemanly skills at the threshold, he entered his office and didn’t bother holding the door for her. He sat behind his desk, reclining back in his chair. She waited with her arms crossed across from him. Betty had already shut the door.

Well, damn. He was going to snap at Miss Augustus to close it, take out some of his aggression, show her who was in charge.

“Callista Augustus.”

“Demetrius Devereux.” Her voice was as fine as she was.

He decided to switch tactics. “You have me. Alone. Whatever do you need,” he purred, eyeing her up and down.

It should’ve been part of the act, but his eyes seemed to take great pleasure perusing her curves. Her clothing was quality, but worn. She wore faded black leggings with knee-high boots that had seen better days. The pale yellow cardigan she wore over a mulberry top complemented the stunning color of her eyes.

Those eyes were narrowed on him.

“I don’t plan on adding to the blog posts of your groupies. I’m here on business.”

“By groupies, you mean…” Business could wait, Demetrius wanted to find out what the underhanded comment meant.

“Your fan club of girls who,” her cheeks flushed and it was…adorable, “gave themselves quite enthusiastically. I’m afraid you didn’t choose reticent women.”

Ah, that. “Being discrete wasn’t my goal.”

“Why ever not?” She shook her head. “Never mind. I’m here for my father, he’s in trouble.”

“Why would I help your father?” Especially when she walked in acting like being in the same room with him was defiling her sense of decency.

“Do you think I’d be here if it wasn’t important?” Hostility radiated off her. “You’re not exactly my favorite person. My father may have archaic beliefs, but he was an honest male, strove to do right by his people. He didn’t just lose his job when you took over. He lost his reputation, his mission in life, his livelihood. It’s not as if a centuries old vampire can go get a job at McDonalds. The way you took down the Vampire Council villainized him. All of our support was cut off.”

She was breathing heavily, the movement threatening to keep his gaze riveted on her breasts. Only her words kept his focus off her delectable body so he could concentrate.

“Edgar had quite a run while he was a councilmember. Perhaps if I’d seen evidence that
any
members had been planning to move our species into the twenty-first century, or especially mitigate the destruction caused by the Sigma Network they designed and supported… Instead, it was best they all go.”

She blinked. “
They
all
had families.”

Demetrius stood and braced his fingertips on his desktop. He leaned toward her. “And you’re lucky I let them live. I neutered them when Sigma was taken down. If they had tried to retaliate in anyway, I would’ve come for them and introduced them to the sun.”

“You would’ve killed them for defending their government? Our government. My father killed no one.”

“No Miss Augustus, your father gladly stood by while others did the killing for him.”

“He would do no such—” She seemed to shock herself into silence. “Look, I’m not here to debate politics or discuss your coup d’état.”

He wondered at her sudden change; she was about to defend her father’s honor and then stopped. He was definitely interested in what brought her to his headquarters now
. 

“Have a seat Miss Augustus.” He sat down and waited for her to perch at the end of a chair. “What’s wrong with your father?”

She opened her mouth then shut it again. Looking around the room, she avoided his eyes. Then she opened her mouth again, and promptly shut it. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “I think he’s possessed. By a demon called Malachim.”

She broke eye contact and scanned the room nervously.

He blinked. “Did I hear you right? You think your father’s possessed?”