บททั้งหมดของ The Crimson Accord: บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

Cassia was fumbling with the portable machine like she had never used it before and I could see the worry between her brows. I held tightly to Margot’s hand like I was one about to get a large ultrasound wand inserted inside of me. Our wing of the house was quiet. Just the three of us as we breathed, waiting to see the babies. Or the little sacs that would become our babies. It had been three full days of bedrest. Margot’s bruises had slowly begun to heal. Tonight we would have the formal memorial for all lives lost during Lucien’s attack or the red night as it had been informally called by everyone. I could sense Cassia’s nervousness. She was in the middle of a major breakthrough with her own research and after attending to her patients, she was expected in her labs. It was admirable to see her tenacity through the haze of grief we all shared. It wasn’t as simple as we had lost dozens of friends and connections. We had lost Lucien. A vital member to our organization. No matter his e

The morning feels colder than October should allow. This was supposed to be the south, but apparently mother nature hadn’t received the memo. I was rarely affected by the weather, everything was muted when you became a vampire. But today for some reason, I could feel the chill in my bones. The clouds hung low, the grayness taking shape over the backend of Tencrest’s property. I stood at the edge of the gathering and breathed in the wet chill, letting it bite at my lungs. The makeshift morgue is gone now. The tables. The sheets. Every body. The metallic smell that clung to my hands even after twenty scrubbings. Everything has disappeared. Only the memories lingered. In the place where we had set up the morgue, now was a platform. Wooden but sturdy, it held a podium where Eira stood now. Rows of white chairs surrounded the platform. It was impressive to look at. One thing about Tencrest was that things could change overnight. I usually chalked it up to paying the staff well, but I thin

The Court meets long after midnight. The hour when even Charleston goes silent and the wind moves differently through the oaks. Tencrest feels hollow tonight. Too many rooms empty. Too many ghosts lingering in the walls. I sit at the head of the circular table with the remaining court members spread down both sides. The candles burn low, the light flickering across somber faces. We are here for something that should feel like progress, but the taste of grief is unescapable. Cassia stands with her notes. The table is filled with files. Everyone in the Founding Ten has their own file. Their matches are outlined when the B1ND gene pops up in their blood work. Although we are accepting volunteers for this marriage, we still need a strong match. Everyone who has been selected also has strong matches that are likely to be willing to match or have volunteered themselves. It’s odd to stare at the paperwork, knowing my own marriage was once sitting on the table. Now, I have a wife and ch

I left the room quietly, letting the door click behind me. My stroll to my office is long and quiet. Guards are everywhere. I know most of their names now. One thing about the red night happening was I realized I didn’t know the Founding Ten and guards like I should. So I had been making an effort to get to know everyone. It seemed silly. Something to relieve me of my guilt, but it helped when I considered how short the human experience was. It was my time to rebuild how I considered those that surrounded me. By looking at the sheer number of guards, you would never know that we lost so many during the attack. Sasha had many volunteers after hearing about the red night from those who had attended. The Founding Ten was a smaller community in general. But 1000 people depended on Sasha’s men in some way or another. I had more respect for them now than ever. I nodded at those stationed outside my door and wondered about Ivan. He was struggling according to Cassia. He refused my brother

The training grounds sit to the side of Tencrest, a long stretch of grass that always feels colder than the rest of the estate. Today the ground is wet with last night’s rain, the air sharp enough that my breath fogs when I exhale. Even the fog seems tired. The world has been holding its lungs full since the massacre. Sasha stands near the fence line, arms folded, shoulders square the way he does when he is thinking too much. My eyes focus on the shine of his boots first. They sink slightly into the mud as he shifts his weight and watches the new recruits spar with the older guards who survived. “Morning,” I said, my voice even and calm. He nods, eyes never leaving the field. “They started early. Said they wanted the cold to bite them awake.” His chuckle is barely there as if he is remembering his youth and ambition in fighting. I follow his gaze. The new guards move with raw, uncertain energy. Their footing slips on the wet earth, but their instinct snaps into place with every co