Words of Power (Alice Gray Book 3)

21

Brother Jerome's icy glare stayed on me, but his eyebrows drew together and his lips pursed up into a tight pout. I guess the wide grin that stretched out my face wasn't the response that he expected from the poor souls he investigated. My smile grew until it reached from ear to ear.

"Alice Gray," he said again, obviously expecting some recognition of the gravity of situation that we found ourselves in.

Maybe he expected deference? Who knew? But as I'd yet to hear a question addressed to me I stayed silent, grin drawn over my teeth, eyes wide and no doubt crazy looking.

"You know she is," Emily said, the sharpness in her voice grating down my spine. Her lack of respect only bolstered my attitude. This guy was going to have to work for his answers.

"Magistrate, you can speak when I address you."

"I'll speak when I like, Brother Jerome. Your position does not affect my authority here. I'm the council's lead agent. Submit a complaint if you have an issue with it."

Brother Jerome waved a dismissive hand at Emily, but the tight, sharp bursts of power that jabbed through the dense, magic riddled air of the room told me what he really felt.

Usually vamp energy was like a dull throbbing headache to me. Dark, heavy magic pushing into the miracle of nature's bright creation. When they got angry, when the monster was close to the surface, the magic changed. It became pointed, it focused on their prey like a jagged knife blade wielded by a half-crazed maniac.

But only half-crazed. The other half knew exactly what it wanted.

Blood.

Pain.

Death.

All the things that Brother Jerome really wanted from Emily, the upstart human who would challenge him in front of his prey. Which was me. I swallowed the lump in my throat while wincing at the vamp energy slicing towards me.

The others didn't know how much Emily's authority bothered him. But I did. I also knew how much control it took for a vamp not to lose it when their power went all sharp and pointy like this.

It took a lot, and that meant age, and strength. Both of which Brother Jerome had in abundance.

A niggling worm of a thought dug around in my brain as I watched the standoff between the two of them play out. Emily, standing tall with her arms crossed over her chest, face impassive and cold, but eyes trained unflinchingly on the old vampire. Brother Jerome had turned his back and was rooting around in his bag of fun, presumably trying to locate whatever instrument of torture he thought would suit my particular set of circumstances.

The tiny squirming thought expanded into a question as it consumed the absurdity of the theatrics playing out in the cramped suite. Why the hell was one of the oldest known vampires allowing himself to be bossed around by a human at all?

Surely in his eight hundred years on earth he had managed to amass enough cash to do whatever he wanted. However easy it was to answer that with a simple shrug to a vamp's love of torture, that wasn't it. Or not it entirely.

Brother Jerome turned, having located whatever horror he had in store for me. "Are you ready to answer my questions now?"

His dry, empty voice suggested detachment, while his grating dead energy pushed in all around me proving the opposite. I ignored the overwhelming sensation and rolled my eyes.
The power sharpened, pressing into my personal space like a million poltergeist carving knives all pointed directly at me. But this wasn't a Tom and Jerry cartoon, and I wasn't an animated animal who recovered from traumatic injury in the space of seconds.
If I didn't want to get diced by the good Brother's power, I'd better start playing his game.

"I don't believe you've asked me anything yet," I said, holding my hands behind my back and tipping back onto the heels of my feet.

Brother Jerome narrowed his eyes, but his power receded. "You must confess, child. Tell the council how you got your magic back."

"I've got plenty to confess, Brother. But I'm as empty of magic as the magistrate over there."

Disappointment clouded Brother Jerome's sea-blue eyes. "As is always the way with one such as you," he continued, shaking his head at me, all patrician superiority.

"Such as me?"

"Young, foolish, arrogant. There are ways though. Channels we can travel to lead you to the light."

"What light?"

"Why, the light of salvation of course."

With those words the dense, dead, vamp power pushed forward again, pulling the breath out of my lungs. I slumped to the bed, head spinning through lack of oxygen.

Lifting my heavy eyelids, looks of concern, alarm, and worst of all, fear, met my tired eyes.
My pack-mates couldn't feel it. They weren't affected by Brother Jerome like I was. But they knew something was wrong, they could sense my distress through the pack bond.

Just before my head hit the pillow, my eyes drifted up to see a satisfied smirk on the monk's face.

I'd lost before I'd even learned what the game was.

Oh dear, Alice underestimated the old vamp! Hope you're enjoying the story!