Eternal: Chapter Eight, Part 4

Later that week, Drei had arranged for us to meet with the Council. The vampire—the one even more stoic than Drei—drove us there. This time, he permitted us roll down the windows so I wasn’t starved when we arrived. About an hour after we left, the air changed from fresh to stale. The window wasn’t down far enough for me to see why, but I figured it partially explained why the area around the house had seemed archaic.

We were told to wait in the same dusty room while the Council assembled. This time, however, instead of their courtroom equivalent, we were brought into a more office-like space. There was one large desk, at which the head of the Council was seated. Then there was a table to either side with a total of seven chairs. Tudor, the vampire who had sat under the presiding head, sat immediately to the right of the desk on the table of four. Strangely enough, they all appeared to be dressed casually and each had a mug of warm blood on the table before them.

“You may deliver the update, Mr. Valmoritim,” Tudor announced in a lighter voice than he had used the last time we’d met.

I handed Drei the papers and he passed them to Tudor, who offered them to the head vampire. He leafed through them as Drei returned to my side. We waited for him to stop, because I knew he would. The commercials were cryptic. Just because the site, currently, was set up to reveal the nature of elementals didn’t mean it couldn’t be altered to reveal the existence of other hiding groups. We knew he would recognize this, and that’s when I had to talk them into patience.

“Tudor, what is your opinion of these?” There was the edge to his voice; the tell-tale sign he was displeased. Until they brought it up, I had decided to play dumb—and resist admitting how much I loathed these games.

“I believe these are too general,” Tudor stated, his brow furrowed, wrinkling his crown even more than it already was. “Do you realize, Miss Jones, these could lead to the discovery of every hiding organization?”

“I realize it may seem that way,” I replied, meeting his gaze, despite how difficult it was to look into those black orbs. “But let me assure you, they will all remain hidden.”

“For how long?” Tudor asked calmly, the edge in his voice as well.

“So long as they choose. This has nothing to do with them;” I folded my hands in front of me. “I can swear to you that this is a movement centering around the civil rights of elementals and exposing the corruption of the current government. What do vampires and other such groups have to do with that?”

There was a lot of nodding and murmuring along the table before Tudor spoke again. “You are responsible for informing the other organizations of this. We will not interfere with the current goings-on.”

“Thank you,” I said, bowing my head to them. That was easier than I had expected.

“Miss Jones,” the presiding vampire called, staring intently at me. I met his gaze. Maybe I had spoken too soon. “Should we feel endangered by your movement, we will end it.”

“I understand.”

“Dismissed,” Tudor granted.

In the hallway, Drei hugged me, kissing the top of my head.

“You amaze me,” he whispered, holding me a second longer before letting go.

I waved it off. “That was easy compared to some of this.” Mentally, I reminded myself to start Valetta and Mitchell on speaking with the other groups’ leaders about their privacy and secrecy. I wasn’t keen on being summoned to meet with werewolves or fairies and the like.

“But that is the last obstacle, Abriel,” he said, his fingertips brushing my cheek as he tucked hair behind my ear. “The commercial will air in a week, and we will be three weeks ahead of schedule.”

“It’s a good start. But we still have a middle and an end to go.”

He looked ready to say something more before our escort led us downstairs to the car. I wished I knew what he had been about to say. I had a feeling it had something to do with enjoying the moment. Not live in the moment—since living wasn’t something we could technically do—but enjoy the moment.

Perhaps it was a strange thought to have; they seemed more frequent, though I couldn’t tell if they made me feel bitter or grieved. I tried not to think on it too much. Sure, it wasn’t healthy to hold it inside, but I needed to be calm and collected; I was in charge and needed to appear as such.

But how long could that last?