Chapter 49

Chapter 49

CALLUM

I t should be raining , Callum thought, gazing up at the clear night sky. It was only fitting that it would be raining at a funeral. But the sky around the tombs remained stubbornly dry. Not even a single cloud was visible. The night was a soft velvet, a near-perfect match to the color of the suit he’d chosen to wear.

This wasn’t Callum’s first funeral. Not by far. They had opened the tomb only two years ago, when his cousin Santiago had been found murdered in his apartment. He could even remember Delilah’s funeral, though he had been just a child at the time and didn’t yet understand what death meant to an immortal. But he had been a background player in those funerals, a participant at best.

Not like now. Not like tonight.

Callum shut his eyes tight and prayed for rain. He hadn’t cried yet, hadn’t been able to still the emotions roaring inside him long enough to find any tears. Maybe he had hoped the sky would do his mourning for him, if only for the night.

Tonight, with his father’s body laid on the black onyx slab inside the family tomb, Callum was more than a mere participant. He was the face of the Salvatore family, the strongest Vampire family in the realm. Tonight, he would stand vigil by his father’s side all night while the other families came to pay their respects and offer their condolences.

Tonight, he would represent them all. At least until…

“Has he arrived yet?” Callum asked, eyes still closed. He knew Winston was at his side without the human even uttering a single word.

The crowd around the tomb had grown with each passing hour since the sun had set. Callum had expected representatives from all the major families to come, of course, but it looked as though every member of their Faction had answered his invitation. Every single Vampire, from every octant in the realm.

All except one. The only one who mattered.

“He has, sire,” came Winston’s answer, his voice like dry parchment. “He just arrived. He is with your father now.”

Callum took a deep breath to center himself. He could do this. It was time.

The crowd parted before Callum as he made his way through them, toward the tomb. They parted, but not before each Vampire he passed offered their condolences, pressing their fingers to their lips and murmuring prayers.

So sorry for your loss.

Our family mourns with you.

He was a great man.

Was he? Calum wondered when he heard that. Even now, he wasn’t sure what sort of man his father had been. Likely, it didn’t matter now.

But he accepted the words graciously, thanking those in attendance, as he made his way across the lawn.

The tomb where they’d laid his father’s corpse was empty, save for one lone figure, when he reached it. The others had filtered outside to give him space to mourn.

“Hello brother,” Callum said softly as he approached.

Alastair didn’t answer. He stared down at their father’s body, laid out on the slab of stark black stone as though resting. They had dressed him in white, the color of death, and Callum himself had selected the silk scarf that wrapped around their father’s neck, hiding the death wound. Hiding where he had slit his own throat open with a razor blade .

His steps sounded obscenely loud on the stone floor as he came to stand at Alastair’s side.

“Is Fey…?” Callum began to ask, looking around for signs of the Witch.

“I didn’t want her to come,” Alastair answered. “I don’t want her involved in this. This isn’t her world.”

Oh. It hurt to see his brother here, alone. Hurt more to know that he wanted to share so little of his life with his family.

Callum liked Fey. He had wanted her to be here tonight, to share in their mourning. To help bridge the gap their father had made between Alastair and the rest of the family.

As always, Alastair was drawing a line in the sand, with his family on one side and himself on the other.

But that would have to end, eventually.

“We need to talk, Alastair,” Callum started, in a calm voice. “About what happens next.”

Alastair didn’t look up when he answered.

“No.”

You can’t ever make things easy, can you, brother? Callum thought with a frustrated sigh. “You can’t just say no, brother.”

“Okay,” his brother said, voice flat. “Then how about fuck no?”

Callum’s temper flared. “Stop it. Stop this foolishness right now. We’re at his funeral, for Goddess’s sake. You can’t hide anymore, Alastair. The deSanguine title will pass on to you whether you like it or not. You’re going to have to step up and lead this family, brother. You can’t just keep pretending it won’t happen. We need you.”

I need you . Callum thought. He swallowed the words down.

Alastair smirked, still staring down at the body of their father, and for a moment Callum wondered if this was how their father had looked when he was young. So cold and so angry.

“It already has passed, Callum,” Alastair said, interrupting his thoughts. “It passed the moment he died. It always does. You’re the only one stupid enough to not have noticed, you know that?”

Callum frowned. No, no, that couldn’t be right. If the title had passed, he would be feeling it right now. But, standing here, directly next to his brother, he didn’t feel anything. He didn’t feel that pull, that draw his father had commanded, coming from Alastair. That whirlpool of power. Alastair felt… just like Alastair, like he always had, to Callum. Which meant he was wrong. The title hadn’t passed.

“I don’t understand,” Callum said, suspicious.

“Who did the other families call first, when his body was found?” Alastair asked.

Callum’s breath caught.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he told Alastair, refusing to even contemplate it. “Everyone knows how you felt about him.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Alastair conceded. “But that’s not why they called you first. Not why they looked to you to arrange his funeral. And you know it.”

No . Callum shook his head. There was no way Alastair was right in what he was suggesting… no possible way…

“No,” Callum insisted. “You’re his heir. Father knew that. Hell, everyone knows that. The title follows power. Father, Delilah, you. You are the next head of this family, Alastair. You are the next deSanguine.”

“Look around you, brother,” Alastair said, almost gently.

He did. Callum looked around the grounds, where the most powerful Vampires in their family were gathered. The most powerful Vampires in the realm, representatives from all the Vampire families. They were all looking at him, all gathered here, under the stars and the sky that refused to weep, so they could see him … not his father.

Not Alastair.

“I kept telling you that you would be stronger than me,” Alastair was saying as Callum looked around at the faces of the crowd. Looked at how they had positioned themselves to face him, to watch him. As though the universe itself held him at its center. “I told you over and over, but you never really believed it, did you?”

No. He hadn’t. It was impossible to even consider he could be stronger than Alastair. No one was stronger than Alastair.

And yet…

“Congratulations, Callum Salvatore deSanguine,” his brother said, putting a hand on his shoulder. And smiling at him. “Don’t fuck it up.”