Chosen (Anna Strong Chronicles #6)

Chosen (Anna Strong Chronicles #6) Page 50

Wonderful. I have made yet another enemy.

Chael returns to his place in the circle. Turnbull waits for the tension to dissipate. It does, to be replaced by disappointment. Disappointment that Chael and I will not do battle. Disappointment that there will be no more blood-shed, at least not here and not now.

But there is something else, as well. The eyes on me have a new respect. Not that I don't doubt battle lines may still be drawn, alliances forged. There is discreet acknowledgment passing one to the other that the subject is not closed just as there is acknowledgment that I am a force to be reckoned with.

Turnbull allows a moment to pass, then asks, "Are there any other petitioners?"

A murmur of negative replies, a shaking of heads.

"Then I declare this convocation closed." He moves deliberately to the library door and holds it open.

The tribal heads file out. All approach and offer their hands to me. They bow, a symbol of respect, bound by a centuries-old tradition they are not ready to challenge. Had Chael been triumphant, I have no doubt it would have been to him they'd be offering their allegiance.

At last, Turnbull and I find ourselves alone once more in the library.

"Was that as much of a disaster as I think?" I ask.

"You didn't win them all over. But you won their respect. You presented a thoughtful and intelligent argument. Very un-Anna-like."

He sounds surprised. I feel myself smiling.

"Thoughtful and intelligent? Not words I hear very often ascribed to me. Hotheaded and arbitrary. Now that's more the norm."

He laughs. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"Just a little while ago."

I sit down in one of the chairs, motion Turnbull to join me. He does.

"To be frank, I don't know where those words came from, Turnbull. It's as if there was something-a spirit-speaking through me."

He lifts a hand. "Maybe there was. Maybe that's what makes you the Chosen One. You see the world as it is as well as what it can be."

I smile again. "You know, I like you more now than when we met in Denver."

"Different set of circumstances. Frankly, I was concerned about the purpose of your visit. I was afraid I'd be cleaning up your mess long after you left."

"Fair enough. I had no idea how things would work out, either. Do you ever see Sophie Deveraux?"

I ask the question casually. When I killed her sister, the lines of communication between us were cut.

Turnbull is shaking his head. "No. She doesn't leave the estate very often. She has a group of vampires living with her. The rumor is they don't possess true vampiric powers. It's a strange story."

And a true one. The vampires were created by her sister for one purpose-their blood. The image of how I found them still makes me shudder.

I don't share the story with Turnbull. It's one best left between Sophie and me. Nor do I tell him that Sophie has another secret-she shares her body with a vampire. She accidentally absorbed his essence when an experiment using immolated vampire ash went bad. Now they coexist if not easily, at least comfortably. His name was Jonathan Deveraux, and I suspect Turnbull would have known him. He may even have been at the party where the "accident" took place.

"Well, if you do see her, tell her I send my best. I'm very grateful for the help she gave me."

I let a moment pass before asking, "So. What happens now?"

Turnbull shrugs. "You're done here. Unless you want to join the party in the living room."

"Is it necessary that I do?"

"No. In fact, it may be better if you don't. Without your presence, Chael may let his guard down and tell us what he has up his sleeve."

"I thought my ruling was final. Can he really bring us back together again?" I say "us" knowing full well he doesn't intend I be a part of a new council.

Turnbull seems to know it, too. "It is his right. Especially if the makeup of the group changes in any significant way."

No subtlety there.

"So this thing about meeting once every two hundred years . . . ?"

A shrug. "In the last thousand years, the council has only convened five times as prescribed by ancient law. But in the last two hundred years, circumstances in the world have changed drastically. Most now believe two hundred years is too long between councils. The Grimoire provides for any tribal member to convene a council if the circumstances warrant."

He continues. "That's why I believe it wise for you to leave, Anna. Alone, I am in a better position to learn the truth. And to alert you of their plans."

I press fingertips against my weary eyes. "Then I will go. There is one other piece of business, though. Will you please give Judith Williams a message? I would like all files pertaining to Avery's estate sent to me. I never wanted anything to do with it, but I'll be damned if I let her take over. I want to sever all ties between the Williams' family and myself."

Turnbull nods his understanding. "It will be done."

He walks me to the front door. One last glance into the living room before I leave imprints an image I'm sure will prove to be a portent of things to come.

Judith Williams and Chael. Huddled together alone near the fireplace, their heads bent in conversation, their backs to the room.

Why do I have the feeling my troubles have just begun?