The Bone Coven Chronicles: The Complete Series Read online

  The muscles in my shoulders clenched tight. “You know, sometimes I get the feeling that you don’t want to see me succeed at this. Sometimes it feels like you’d rather see me fail.”

  “I think the people who deserve to succeed are the ones who bust their asses to do so.” His lips turned up into a cold smile. “So, why don’t you prove you should be free and clear to go.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but then stopped short. As frustrating as Dorian was, now was not the time to get into another argument with him. There was a dead body on the floor at my feet. One that the coven thought I had murdered. At no point would I ever feel ready to check his body for blood, so I might as well go ahead and get it over with before Dorian decided to take away my chance.

  My knees hit the floor, and I took the man’s cold, stiff arm in my trembling hands. Nausea rolled through me, but I swallowed it down. There was only one way I could breathe—in and out of my mouth instead of my nose. If the scent became much stronger, I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to keep down the food from the diner.

  Bees swarmed inside my ears as I slid the dagger from my sheath. The blade rippled in the air, my hands shaking so hard that I could barely keep a grip on the handle. I took a deep breath in and out of my mouth, trying to center my mind just like I did when I performed a spell. Two puffs in, a long breath out. Slow and steady. One breath after another until my vision stopped swirling like a storm at sea.

  “Okay.” I pressed the sharp end of my blade against the man’s wrist. “I’m going to cut now.”

  Dorian pressed a white-knuckled hand against his nose and sucked in a deep breath. Before I could talk myself out of it, I sliced into the puffy skin with my dagger, forcing it further until it was deep enough to hit the artery. Dorian grunted, but I didn’t dare look his way. My eyes were glued to the blade as I slowly extracted it from the man’s arm. Still shaking, I sat back on my heels and stared, waiting for the inevitable stream of red to spill from the wound.

  But none came.

  I glanced up at Dorian, only to find his back shoved up against the wall, his hand pressed over his mouth, and his eyes squeezed so tight that his entire face had to hurt. He trembled, almost imperceptibly, like he was far more freaked out by this than I was. Frowning, I couldn’t help but stare. He’d seemed so bulletproof, so impenetrable. And yet here he was, barely able to hold himself together while I was down on my knees doing the dirty work.

  “There’s no blood,” I said.

  Slowly, he cracked open his eyes, and his entire body sighed. I did not understand why he looked so relieved. Because zero blood could only mean one thing. This man hadn’t died because of a demon attack. He’d been sucked dry by the only creatures in the world capable of such a thing. Vampires.

  Chapter 11

  “We request a presence with the council,” Dorian said after we’d put the body back in the freezer and returned to the front lobby of the mansion. His body was stiff and straight, and his voice was sure and calm. He’d recovered from whatever had rattled his nerves in the kitchen. A part of me wanted to ask. Did he have some kind of phobia of blood? But I knew that he’d just block me out if I pried.

  After explaining that we had some vital information about the recent demon attack, Dorian hung up his phone and crossed his arms, his eyes focused on a closed door at the end of the hallway. He clenched his jaw tight, the muscles in his face and neck rippling in response. He was all business now that we had some answers, and he barely even acknowledged my presence while we waited for someone to come get us.

  Apparently, we weren’t allowed to just storm into the meeting. Who would have thought?

  Shoes clicked on the hardwood floor, and I glanced from Dorian to see a suit-clad man striding toward us. He held his hands in front of him as if in prayer, though I knew better than to think he was requesting any help from the goddess. I’d seen my mother do this when she wanted to obscure a rune she’d drawn on her palms, back when I’d been a rebellious teenager sneaking out the window in the middle of the night. She’d always found ways to stop me.

  “Hello, Dorian,” the man said in a voice full of ice, nodding once at my companion before turning to me. “And you must be Zoe Bennett. I’ll admit your reputation has proceeded you.”

  I frowned. “What reputation? The one where you all think I murdered someone? Because that’s not a reputation. It’s a lie.”

  “Zoe,” Dorian warned.

  The man let out a light laugh, patting the graying hair at his temple. My eyes snagged on his fingernails. They were curled and yellowed at the edges, totally at odds with his youthful face and the expensive suit he’d clearly had fitted for his athletic body. Almost like he was still new to this lifestyle, still doing his best to put on an appearance that he belonged here.

  “Is that really any way to greet the Magister of your coven?” He pressed down the front his suit and shook his head. “Especially when I have given you a chance that many wouldn’t have had in the olden days. Back then, they would have executed you without a second thought.”

  So, this was Leon Dupont. Five years ago, I would have said it was an honor to meet him, but I no longer felt that way. He’d taken the job without anyone’s approval but his own. Most of the coven members had gone along with it, too weary from the fight to start a political battle. But a few had voiced concerns. And those few had somehow lost their marks after making their opinions known. There was no proof it had been Dupont, of course, but there was little doubt in my mind that he’d been involved in it somehow.

  The man wanted power. I could tell by the sharp glint in his eye when I challenged him. And now he had it until the day he died. The position of Magister was one for life.

  “The olden days?” I raised my eyebrows. “You mean five years ago, right?”

  Dorian cleared his throat as he pushed a hand against my back in warning. “You’ll have to excuse Zoe. She’s had a stressful few days, so she’s a little on edge. What she means to say is that she’s honored to meet you.”

  Honored my ass. He’d done nothing to help me or my grandmother in all this time he’d been Magister. He could go straight to the demon realm for all I cared.

  “I’m sure.” The Magister’s smile rang cold and false when he turned and motioned for us to follow him down the hallway. The lighting dimmed as we left the expansive, chandelier-lit lobby, and the scent of mint and thyme surrounded us in a thick cloud of charged smoke. Someone in the mansion must be casting some kind of spell, though hopefully it had nothing to do with knocking me out cold.

  Once we reached the end of the hallway, the Magister motioned us inside of a room that was home to the murmuring voices I’d heard when we’d arrived at the mansion. The voices stopped, and several men glanced up, including the Lead Enforcer, from where they were clustered around an oval mahogany table. Many spots around the table were empty, the council at half-capacity in recent years.

  “What’s this about?” barked one of the men, an ageing warlock with lines stretching out from his eyes like whiskers. “Since when did we start having visitors in here?”

  “This is Zoe Bennett,” the Magister said with a glance my way. “The girl responsible for that demon attack.”

  One of the men half-stood from his chair while another grabbed a piece of chalk from an impressive collection in the center of the table. He began to draw a rune, and my heart pounded. What would he try to do to me? Bound my wrists and my ankles? Or something worse?

  “Summoner Salvatore, there’s no need for that.” Leon crossed the room and placed his hand on top of the man’s half-drawn rune. Summoner, I thought, filing that information away for later use. That meant he was Leon’s second in command, the number two in charge of the entire coven. “This is one of our Enforcers. Isn’t that right, Vincent? He’s been guarding Zoe while looking into the murder. Apparently, they have some information to share with us.”

  Guarding me? I wrinkled my nose.

  “Yes, that’s right.” V
incent, the Lead Enforcer who had questioned me in the warehouse, frowned but he didn’t make a move from his spot around the table. “I gave the girl a chance to prove her innocence.”

  “Very well.” The Summoner dropped the chalk and settled back into his chair, though the other man continued to stay standing. “We’ll hear you out, though I hope whatever it is, it’s good.”

  “It’ll have to be if we’re going to consider letting you go,” another council member commented.

  “Let’s hear it, Dorian,” Leon said.

  Dorian took a step forward, moving his body partly in front of mine before he began to speak. I wasn’t sure if any of the council members noticed, and I wasn’t entirely sure if I was reading his actions correctly myself. It seemed like he was attempting to act as a barrier between the council and me. As a way to protect me, maybe. As a way to keep me safe in case one of them decided not to hear us out after all.

  But Dorian was an Enforcer. He was one of them. Surely he couldn’t go against the wishes of the council members, especially not the Magister himself. If they wanted to throw offensive spells against me, there was nothing he could do. Even blocking or deflecting them would be considered treason.

  “Zoe and I have been following some breadcrumbs these past couple of days,” he began. “The first of which led us to Slayerville. Our victim, Jeffrey Baker, was a regular there. We discovered that he held the unfortunate status of blood bag.”

  A few murmurs went through the small group of council members, but Vincent shook his head with a frown. “That tells us nothing. Vampires cannot summon demons, so they can’t be responsible for the man’s death, regardless of what the deceased did in his extracurricular life.”

  “They attacked my friend.” I shifted out from behind Dorian, his back going rigid as soon as I did. I could tell he wanted me to keep my mouth shut, but we were here to tell them our findings, and I couldn’t just sit quietly in the back and act like a meek little bystander. “Laura Anderson. She’s a witch, too. She went with us to Slayerville, and they fed on her. Two of them at the same time. If we hadn’t interfered, she could be dead.”

  Two of the council members exchanged sharp glances. Clearly that had gotten their attention, much better than the information about the hapless human victim being a blood bag. I’d learned over the years that while many witches and warlocks couldn’t give a shit about humans, they’d do anything to protect one of their own.

  Anything.

  “Is this true, Dorian?” the Summoner turned to my Enforcer with a deep frown etched into his face. “Did these vampires attack one of ours? This is a serious breach of our peace treaty if that’s the case.”

  “It’s true. However, I must add that Laura isn’t marked yet.”

  “So, she isn’t part of our coven?” Magister Leon Dupont shook his head. “I know you might not understand how our world works, girl, but you have to be one of us to get the full protection that offers.”

  Trust me. I knew that little factoid better than most.

  “She’s still a witch,” I said. “Just because she isn’t marked yet doesn’t make that any less true.”

  “She could turn out to be a member of one of the other covens. Not all of them have an alliance with the Daywalkers.” The Summoner crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “The Shadow Coven, for example. And we all know what kind of witches those are.”

  “Dark magic.” Vincent gave me a cold smile. “Evil and wrong. They shouldn’t be allowed to call themselves mages.”

  Every hair on my arms stood on end. It had been a long time since I’d thought about the Shadow Coven. That definitely wasn’t a topic I liked to keep on the forefront of my mind. They were known to be ruthless and cunning, more in tune with the darker side of the universe than the light, where the other covens chose to operate. Their magic involved many of the same elements that other covens used, but it was twisted in such a way that they often lost pieces of themselves along the way.

  Only witches and warlocks with broken souls became part of the Shadow Coven. And there wasn’t an operating body of them anywhere in the United States. That I knew of.

  “Laura is not Shadow Coven. She couldn’t be.” I lifted my chin. “She’s too pure. She’s too good. You said I don’t know much about the supernatural world, but I do know this. There has to be darkness inside of you in order to get that kind of mark.”

  The council fell silent, staring at me. They were clearly surprised that I’d spoken so boldly and confidently in front of them. Most witches were strong and powerful when it came to casting spells, but as a group we had a tendency to deflect all final decisions to men. Council members were typically male, and there had never been a female Bone Coven Magister in all the many years of the coven’s existence. It just wasn’t how things were done. Warlocks held the key to leadership and decision-making, and no one had ever argued for anything other than the status quo.

  In the Bone Coven, that is. Things ran differently in the others.

  “You speak boldly,” the Summoner said with a nod, almost smiling. “But you’re not wrong. She is a Massachusetts witch, born from two bone mages. If the girl has never experienced something that could darken her soul, then she won’t get marked as Shadow.”

  “That said,” the Magister interrupted after clearing his throat. “The Daywalkers haven’t broken our alliance, so there is little we can do. We can’t retaliate, and we’re unable to stop them from feeding on her again. I suggest some wards for her home, if she doesn’t already have them. Often, after vampires get a taste, they want to feed again and again.”

  I shivered, remembering the way their fangs had glistened with Laura’s fresh blood.

  “I suggest she do something about her mark as well,” Summoner Salvatore added. “All she needs to do is cast a powerful spell, and it’ll come, though I am assuming you at least know that, yes?” he asked, and I gave him a nod. “Is there any reason why your friend has refrained from doing so for so long?”

  That wasn’t my place to say. Laura had never been particularly fond of magic. Occasionally, she’d do some light spells with me, but she preferred to watch from the sidelines. While we’d both lost our parents, she had reacted differently than I had. I dove headfirst into trying to figure things out while she distanced herself from it as best she could. She didn’t want to have anything to do with the very thing that killed her family, and I couldn’t blame her for that, even if I didn’t agree.

  It was clear she’d be far safer if she gave into her supernatural side a lot more, but I would never push her.

  “She’s in the same position as I am,” I decided to say instead. “Her knowledge is limited, and she hasn’t had a trainer. She lost her parents in the war as well.”

  The council members all nodded sadly. One leaned forward to speak up. “Many witches and warlocks have found themselves on their own. It’s a difficult road, but one she must follow in order to get the full protection of our coven. If she needs someone to coach her for the spell, I’m sure one of our Enforcers can help out. Dorian here, perhaps?”

  Relief crashed through me. I’d been more worried about Laura than I realized. For the past few months, I’d tried coaching her into a difficult enough spell for her to finally get her mark, but she hadn’t been able to manage it. Maybe if someone more experienced and knowledgable sat her down and explained to her why she needed to do this, she would see reason and cast that spell.

  But when I turned to Dorian, he wasn’t nodding. Instead, he grimaced and clenched his jaw. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I’m much better suited to being out in the field. Now that we have solved the Baker issue, I would like to request a return to my normal Enforcer duties.”

  His words stung. Even though we barely tolerated each other, I thought we had built at least a small level of mutual respect and understanding. For him to flee the moment he could, when he knew that Laura needed his help…well I didn’t truly understand why he would do
that. All this time it had seemed like he wanted to be by my side. And now he was running away as fast as he could. Was it really that torturous to be around me?

  “If that is your wish, then agreed. I can request another Enforcer to assist Laura in her training. I’ll go make the necessary calls.” Vincent stood from behind the table and exited the room.

  The Magister stepped forward, but his eyes were not full of warmth. They were ice cold. “All of this said, I’m still not convinced of Zoe’s innocence. The Daywalkers fed from an unmarked witch’s neck. This does not a murder make.”

  “We inspected the body,” Dorian said, refusing to glance my way. “It has been drained of blood. There were several marks on his wrists and neck, though I can’t be sure those are from his murder or from his blood bag sessions. One thing is sure though, a demon attack doesn’t drain a man’s blood. Only vampires do.”

  One of the councilmen leaned back in his chair and let out a low whistle. “Well, that certainly changes things.”

  The Magister furrowed his brows, leaning forward on his elbows. “There was a summoning rune drawn on the morgue wall, yes? And don’t forget about the…” He glanced at me, falling silent.

  “Zoe knows about the tip-off call,” Dorian said. “We’re working on the theory that the murderer decided to use Zoe as a patsy. By drawing a rune at the scene of the crime, it removes all suspicion from the vampires, making it look like a demon attack instead. There was a second murder as well. Another girl who was a blood bag. It was done in a similar way, though the human authorities picked up the body. We can't inspect it to confirm."

  “Clever.” The Summoner steepled his hands underneath his chin and gave me an appraising stare. His face was blank, his eyes cold. It was impossible to know what he was thinking. He and the other council members seemed to accept the information we’d presented them, but the question now was, would it be enough? The bloodless body felt like it should be the proverbial nail in the vampires’ coffin—pun intended—but no one had seemed particularly inclined to believe me up until now.