18. Chapter 18

18

Chapter 18

Darick

I 'm seething as I stalk across the dancefloor, bodies parting like a tide before me. I know there are curious stares, but I ignore them.

Goddamn woman!

I swear to God, she must have a death wish.

"Fuck's sake!" I mutter under my breath as I push past a particularly burly vampire male. He takes one look at my face and immediately backpedals several steps, eyes lowered.

Marcus, striding a couple of steps behind me, makes a low sound of annoyance. "You need to get your head in the game, Drake."

"You think?" I growl. I resist the urge to shoot a look back to the secluded alcove I just left. The place where we-

Stop.

I can't focus on what needs to be done while I'm worrying about her.

I push through the ornate doors of the Salon Privé, Marcus close on my heels. It's hushed within; the aroma of aged leather hits me, a contrast to the pulsing beat and sweat-soaked air of the main lounge.

Selene and Elias are already there, seated in plush, high-backed chairs that wouldn't look out of place in a medieval castle. Their eyes snap to me as I enter, and I catch the slight narrowing of Selene's gaze.

Shit. We're late.

"My apologies." I look around for a suitable chair. I'm still on edge, Rowan's scent clinging to me like a second skin. "There was a…situation."

Selene raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment.

Elias, ever the diplomat, gestures to the empty seats. "Arabella will be here any minute."

I sink into the nearest chair, taking in the room. It's a masterpiece of vampire aesthetics – modern luxury seamlessly blended with ancient touches. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over sleek metal tables and centuries-old tapestries. Along one wall, a chrome display case houses what looks like Roman artifacts.

Selene clears her throat, drawing my attention back to the matter at hand. "We've gathered some intel on Lucien's recent activities," she starts, but I'm only half-listening.

My mind keeps drifting back to Rowan, to the heat of her skin under my hands, the taste of her lips. I shake my head, trying to focus. This isn't the time for distractions.

"Darick?" Selene's sharp voice cuts through my thoughts. "Are you with us?"

I nod, straightening in my seat. "Yes, of course."

"Arabella will expect us to have our stories straight, so you'd better get your head right." She frowns at me. She doesn't get a chance to chastise me further because the discreet door at the back of the room swings open.

I straighten as Arabella glides into the room, her eyes sweeping over us with barely concealed disdain.

"Well," she says, her voice cool as a winter breeze, "I hope this meeting proves worth my time, Selene."

Selene inclines her head respectfully. "I assure you, Grand Elder, we wouldn't have requested your presence without good reason."

Arabella's gaze settles on me, and I rise, bowing my head deferentially. "And you, Darick. I trust you've finally found some real evidence to support your…accusations?"

I fight back a surge of irritation. "With all due respect, Grand Elder, we've gathered significant information—"

She cuts me off with a wave of her hand. "Spare me the theatrics. I fail to see why we couldn't discuss this in my chambers. All this cloak-and-dagger nonsense hardly seems necessary."

"Security concerns," Marcus interjects smoothly.

Arabella arches an eyebrow. "And you think the Nocturne Lounge is more secure than my own sanctum?"

I nod. "We do, actually. Especially given what we've uncovered about recent activities."

She regards me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she sighs. "Very well. Let's hear what's so important that it requires all this secrecy." She sinks gracefully onto the red velvet couch that extends the length of one wall, draping an arm along the backrest.

I lean forward, watching Selene carefully as she begins. Her diplomacy has always been impressive, and now, more than ever, we need it.

"Grand Elder," Selene starts smoothly, "we appreciate your willingness to hear us out. Our concerns stem from a series of events that, when viewed together, paint a troubling picture."

Arabella's eyes narrow slightly as she flicks a look at me and then back to Selene. "And I suppose these events all revolve around Lucien Marlowe?"

Selene doesn't miss a beat. "While some incidents do involve Clan Umbra, our concerns are broader than any one individual or clan."

Arabella's gaze flicks to me, a hint of skepticism in her eyes. I force myself to remain impassive.

Elias clears his throat, drawing attention. "If I may, Grand Elder?" At Arabella's nod, he continues, "In light of recent concerns surrounding the Bloodbane, you may be aware that I, along with other members of the Lux clan, have been conducting research into the matter." He pauses, and Arabella nods again for him to go on. "Well, we've noticed an alarming trend. The incidence of Bloodbane within Clan Umbra is significantly higher than in other clans."

I watch Arabella's reaction closely. Her eyebrow arches slightly, but her voice remains cool when she speaks. "While regrettable, I fail to see how this is relevant to our meeting."

Elias angles his head slightly, his usually calm demeanor showing a hint of urgency. "The relevance, Grand Elder, lies in the implications. Such a high concentration of Bloodbane cases in one clan is statistically improbable. It suggests…"

"It suggests nothing," Arabella cuts him off, her tone sharp. "Unless you have evidence of foul play, Lord Thorne, I'd advise against making baseless accusations."

I can feel the taut atmosphere in the room ratcheting up. Selene shoots me a warning glance, silently urging me to keep my temper in check. I take a deep, unnecessary breath, reminding myself of the stakes. We can't afford to alienate Arabella, not when we're so close to exposing Lucien's schemes. But when I see Arabella poising herself, as if about to rise from her seat, I can't hold back any longer. The frustration from my encounter with Rowan, combined with Arabella's dismissive attitude, boils over.

"For fuck's sake," I snap. "We're dancing around the real issue here. Lucien is amassing power, manipulating the Bloodbane crisis to his advantage. He's positioning himself to challenge the very foundations of our society."

Arabella's eyes flash dangerously, her posture stiffening. "Watch your tone, Drake. You're treading on thin ice."

I open my mouth to retort, but Marcus smoothly steps in, his calm voice a contrast to my outburst.

"If I may, Grand Elder," he says, pulling out a sleek tablet from his inside jacket pocket. "We've compiled substantial evidence of Lucien's growing influence across multiple clans."

Arabella's gaze shifts to Marcus, her expression guarded but curious. "Go on."

Marcus taps the screen, bringing up a series of charts and graphs. "Over the past six months, we've tracked a significant increase in Clan Umbra's involvement in key vampire businesses and political spheres. This graph shows their sudden rise in influence within the nightlife sector, particularly in areas traditionally dominated by other clans."

He swipes to another screen. "More concerning is this data on recent council votes. There's a clear pattern of decisions favoring Umbra's interests, often supported by members of other clans who've never aligned with them before."

Arabella's eyes narrow as she studies the information. "And you believe Lucien is behind this shift?"

Marcus nods grimly. "We do. And we have reason to believe he's using the Bloodbane crisis as leverage. Several influential vampires who've recently sided with Umbra have family members afflicted with the condition. It's too much of a coincidence."

I watch Arabella's face carefully, searching for any sign that she's taking this seriously. Her expression remains impassive, but I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

"What do you think would give him this leverage?" she finally asks.

My frustration mounts at her inability to see the big picture. "He's blackmailing them, my Lady, " I say brusquely. "Using threats to manipulate them. Or simple bribery with witch blood."

She looks at me sharply. "Are you still on about that?"

"Yes, dammit! He's harvesting them like cattle," I respond, then force myself not to let my exasperation show. "My Lady, we can't ignore the witch situation any longer. The attack on the Starlight Vigil was a direct provocation. If we don't address this—"

Arabella cuts me off with a wave of her hand. "The witch question is not my concern, Darick."

I blink, stunned into momentary silence. Did I hear her correctly? "Not your concern?" I repeat, disbelief coloring my tone. "With all due respect, Grand Elder, the tensions between vampires and witches affect us all. If Lucien is behind these attacks—"

"If, if, if," Arabella interrupts, her voice sharp. "You've made these accusations against Lucien before, Darick. And yet, you still haven't provided any proof of his involvement."

Annoyance builds in my chest. "We're working on gathering more evidence, but surely you can see the pattern here. The timing of the attacks, the way they align with Lucien's agenda—"

Arabella's gaze is cool, almost dismissive. "Patterns and coincidences are not proof, Lord Drake. And frankly, whether Lucien is involved or not is becoming less relevant to me by the minute."

I stare at her, unable to hide my shock. Is she really saying what I think she's saying? The implication hangs in the air, heavy and unsettling. It's clear that Arabella doesn't care about the witch situation, regardless of who's behind it.

This bothers me more than anything. If Arabella, our Grand Elder, is this indifferent to the growing conflict between our kind, what hope do we have of preventing all-out war?

"Lady Ravenscroft, do I need to remind you of what's at stake?" I say, keeping my voice studiously neutral. A war with the witches would inevitably lead to conflict with the humans. It's taken us generations to reach the point where we can live this life." I sweep a hand to the door that leads to the club beyond. "Lucien's scheming threatens all of that."

"Frankly, I think that Lucien threatens you, Lord Drake," Arabella snaps. "And I don't have time to waste on clan squabbles. Get your house in order."

I hold my tongue. Arabella's dismissive attitude is infuriating, but I can't afford to lose my temper. Not now, when everything is hanging by a thread.

"Grand Elder, if I may," Selene interjects. "While clan disputes are indeed beneath your concern, I am worried that we're overlooking a larger issue here."

Arabella's eyes narrow, but she nods for Selene to continue.

"Lucien's ambitions extend far beyond mere inter-clan squabbles," Selene says, her gaze steady. "We have reason to believe he's positioning himself to challenge the very structure of our society…including your position, Lady Ravenscroft."

The room goes deathly quiet. I watch Arabella carefully, noting the slight tightening around her eyes. She's listening now, really listening.

"That's a bold claim, Lady Nightshade," Arabella says, her voice dangerously soft. "I hope you have something to back it up."

Selene nods. "We've compiled a dossier of Lucien's recent activities. His alliances, his business dealings, the way he's been courting certain…influential parties. Parties who could undermine your seat if they were to pool their resources."

As Selene speaks, Arabella's dismissive attitude from earlier is gone, replaced by a sharp, calculating look.

"And you believe all of this points to a play for power? My power," Arabella asks, her voice carefully neutral.

"We do," I interrupt, seizing the moment. "Lucien's not just gathering influence; he's systematically undermining the foundations of our society. The Bloodbane crisis, the witch conflicts – they're all part of his plan to create chaos. And in that chaos…"

"You think he plans to seize control," Arabella finishes, her eyes meeting mine.

"I do, my Lady." I dip my head.

She settles back into her seat, lips pursing as she stares off into the distance for a moment.

I watch Arabella carefully, sensing a shift in her demeanor. For a moment, I dare to hope we're finally getting through to her.

But then she turns her gaze on me, a hint of something unsettling in her eyes. "And what of your own motivations, Lord Drake? It seems you have…personal reasons for wanting Lucien out of the picture."

I feel my body tense. Does she know? Has she somehow discovered my condition? I struggle to keep my expression blank, but I can feel Marcus shifting uneasily beside me.

"I assure you, my Lady, my only concern is for the stability of our society," I say, hoping my voice doesn't betray my sudden unease.

Arabella remains inscrutable, but I know she's caught my hesitation. Dammit. If she suspects I have the Bloodbane, everything could unravel. My position as clan elder, my authority – all of it could be stripped away in an instant.

I watch Arabella carefully, anxiety coiling in my gut as she regards me with that unsettling gaze. Just as I'm about to speak, to try to deflect her suspicions, she abruptly rises from her seat.

"I've heard enough for tonight," she says, her voice cool and detached. "I'll take your…concerns under advisement."

I stand quickly, fighting the urge to press her further. "Grand Elder, if we could just—"

She cuts me off with a sharp look. "I said, I've heard enough, Lord Drake. Good evening to you all."

With that, she glides out of the room, leaving us in stunned silence. I turn to the others, heaving a breath of exasperation.

"Well, that was spectacularly unhelpful," I mutter.

Selene sighs, shaking her head. "I'm not sure what to make of it. She didn't outright dismiss us, but…"

"But she didn't exactly jump to action either," Elias finishes, his brow furrowed in concern.

Marcus rises from his seat, his expression dark. "We need to consider the possibility that Arabella might be aligning with Lucien. Her reluctance to act could be telling."

I roll my shoulders, wincing against a knot that's forming. There's a strange sensation building between my shoulder blades, a feeling like ants crawling beneath my skin. "Fuck. If that's true, we're in even deeper shit than we thought," I mutter, feeling distracted, which is ridiculous considering the gravity of the situation I'm dealing with.

Something is wrong.

The others nod grimly, but I'm not focusing on them. I'm already moving toward the door. There's something unpleasant tugging at the edges of my consciousness, an insistent pull I can't ignore.

Something is wrong!

I have to get out of here.

Now!

"Darick, where are you going?" Selene calls after me. "We need to discuss our next move."

I pause at the threshold, glancing back at them. "I need to check on something. We'll regroup tomorrow."

Rowan. She needs me. I know it.

Without waiting for a response, I stride out of the room, my mind focused on one thing: finding Rowan.

The minute or two that it takes me to cross the club feels like a lifetime. Largely because with every step, I know what I'm going to find. As I reach the alcove where I'd left her and sweep back the curtain, my suspicions are confirmed.

It's empty.

I resist the urge to rip the curtain off its railings. Of course she wouldn't wait. Why would she? Aside from the fact that we still haven't set aside our differences, the woman remains true to form; she'll always be Rowan. Stubborn. Impossible. Headstrong. And a thousand other characteristics that should make her intolerable. But, perversely, they're also half the things I love about her.

Not love. That would be too strong a word. I'm sure of that.

But admire? Certainly. I've never met anyone more invested in their convictions. She'd do anything for those she loves. I know a lot of people who could take a leaf from that book. And it occurs to me that, aside from Marcus, I can't think of a single soul who'd do that for me.

Then again, I guess we vampires are a soulless lot.

I turn away from the alcove and scan the crowd, hoping to catch sight of her. But the longer I look, the more troubled I get. There's no sign of her. No sleek crimson ponytail swinging beneath the flashing lights.

I push through the throng on the dance floor, my eyes searching frantically for any sign of Rowan. The pulsing music and flashing lights that usually fade into the background for me now feel oppressive, disorienting.

Where the hell is she?

As I shove past a group of giggling blood groupies, I try to focus on our blood bond. Even when Rowan's been angry with me, shutting me out as best she can, I've always felt a faint tingle of her presence. But now…nothing. Just a cold, empty void where her essence should be.

Panic starts to claw at my chest.

This isn't right. Something's very wrong.

I close my eyes, trying to block out the noise around me and concentrate harder on our connection.

"Come on, Rowan," I murmur. "Where are you?"

But no matter how hard I focus, I can't sense her. It's like she's vanished completely, leaving not even a trace for me to follow. The realization hits me so hard that I have to brace myself against the bar.

"Darick?" Marcus's voice cuts through my rising panic as he emerges beside me. "What's wrong?"

I turn to him, not bothering to hide the fear in my eyes. "It's Rowan. I can't sense her. At all."

The implications make my blood run cold because there's no doubt in my mind as I reach into that dark emptiness where she should be. Someone took her. Someone powerful enough to mask her from me completely.

And I have no fucking idea how to find her.