option.
Adianna nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
There were two books. One was an ancient tome of Vida law. Every witch of their line was required to study those pages, and needed to be able to recite each law word for word before she was given her primary weapon and named a full member. The second was a collection of notes and drawings about every vampire hunters had ever encountered, currently gathered in a giant binder.
Those invaluable records, representing centuries of knowledge, had been in horrendous shape when Dominique had first seen them, with information, sometimes in other languages, jotted down on scraps of paper, parchment and even bark, often worn, faded or crumbling beyond all readability.
She had sealed the salvageable drawings in archive-quality sleeves, laboriously worked with language experts to translate pieces no one had read in decades, and agonized over her first typewriter in an effort to transcribe and organize what could be read of the older, handwritten notes.
After Jacqueline’s death, locking herself away with the occasionally ancient, dusty texts had been soothing. Pregnant with her second child, she hadn’t been able to hunt. Sitting, doing nothing—indeed, being
protected
by an eight-year-old orphan child and the human she had married—had been infuriating. She had wanted nothing more than to call up old friends, whose companionship had always been comforting, if not entirely healthy.
She slid the drawing of the twin vampires into the properacid-free sleeve and then gathered the books into a canvas bag.
Maybe she
should
have spent those months hunting instead. An unfortunate accident eighteen years earlier might have saved her daughter and nephew from learning what it meant to put a knife in someone they loved.
Please, Dommy
.
She could almost hear his voice pleading with her.
Please. You owe me this
.
She tried to chase the phantom away. He was long dead. She knew, because she was the one who had killed him. He hadn’t been strong enough to do it himself—just as Sarah wasn’t strong enough now.
“Did you manage to reach any of our other contacts?” Adianna asked, returning to the room with a duffel bag thrown over her shoulder.
Dominique shook her head, recalling with frustration how her many phone calls had gone. At first she had been able to reach most of the hunters she dialed. They were grumpy and groggy, often having just gone to bed, but they answered.
Some of them told her they would contact her if they got word, but made it clear they had no interest in joining the hunt. Others told her flat out to go to hell. Word must have traveled fast, because after the first round of attempts, she hadn’t reached anything but voice mail. The one contact who had asked to set up a meeting had then left a message saying he had changed his mind.
Traitors. They claimed moral objections, but the truth was they didn’t want to risk their hides hunting powerful prey, especially when it already knew all their names and faces.
“Our allies know what is going on, but I do not believe any of them will prove useful.”
Adianna shrugged, seeming unconcerned. “Might as well keep it in the family.”
She looked up into Dominique’s eyes as she said it. Her gaze held many questions and a silent plea of
Don’t make me do this
.
Adianna prided herself on her control, with good reason, but she was still Dominique’s daughter; she couldn’t hide perfectly when she looked into her mother’s eyes. But though Dominique saw the plea, Adianna clearly already knew she wouldn’t respond. They couldn’t afford to be sentimental that day.
Dominique would watch her and make sure she didn’t balk, because forward was the only direction that would get them through this. She wouldn’t let Adianna become another Jacqueline, whose impulsiveness and doubts had destroyed her, along with most of her family.
“I’m going to see if Zachary and Michael need help,” Adianna said, looking away.
Adianna nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
There were two books. One was an ancient tome of Vida law. Every witch of their line was required to study those pages, and needed to be able to recite each law word for word before she was given her primary weapon and named a full member. The second was a collection of notes and drawings about every vampire hunters had ever encountered, currently gathered in a giant binder.
Those invaluable records, representing centuries of knowledge, had been in horrendous shape when Dominique had first seen them, with information, sometimes in other languages, jotted down on scraps of paper, parchment and even bark, often worn, faded or crumbling beyond all readability.
She had sealed the salvageable drawings in archive-quality sleeves, laboriously worked with language experts to translate pieces no one had read in decades, and agonized over her first typewriter in an effort to transcribe and organize what could be read of the older, handwritten notes.
After Jacqueline’s death, locking herself away with the occasionally ancient, dusty texts had been soothing. Pregnant with her second child, she hadn’t been able to hunt. Sitting, doing nothing—indeed, being
protected
by an eight-year-old orphan child and the human she had married—had been infuriating. She had wanted nothing more than to call up old friends, whose companionship had always been comforting, if not entirely healthy.
She slid the drawing of the twin vampires into the properacid-free sleeve and then gathered the books into a canvas bag.
Maybe she
should
have spent those months hunting instead. An unfortunate accident eighteen years earlier might have saved her daughter and nephew from learning what it meant to put a knife in someone they loved.
Please, Dommy
.
She could almost hear his voice pleading with her.
Please. You owe me this
.
She tried to chase the phantom away. He was long dead. She knew, because she was the one who had killed him. He hadn’t been strong enough to do it himself—just as Sarah wasn’t strong enough now.
“Did you manage to reach any of our other contacts?” Adianna asked, returning to the room with a duffel bag thrown over her shoulder.
Dominique shook her head, recalling with frustration how her many phone calls had gone. At first she had been able to reach most of the hunters she dialed. They were grumpy and groggy, often having just gone to bed, but they answered.
Some of them told her they would contact her if they got word, but made it clear they had no interest in joining the hunt. Others told her flat out to go to hell. Word must have traveled fast, because after the first round of attempts, she hadn’t reached anything but voice mail. The one contact who had asked to set up a meeting had then left a message saying he had changed his mind.
Traitors. They claimed moral objections, but the truth was they didn’t want to risk their hides hunting powerful prey, especially when it already knew all their names and faces.
“Our allies know what is going on, but I do not believe any of them will prove useful.”
Adianna shrugged, seeming unconcerned. “Might as well keep it in the family.”
She looked up into Dominique’s eyes as she said it. Her gaze held many questions and a silent plea of
Don’t make me do this
.
Adianna prided herself on her control, with good reason, but she was still Dominique’s daughter; she couldn’t hide perfectly when she looked into her mother’s eyes. But though Dominique saw the plea, Adianna clearly already knew she wouldn’t respond. They couldn’t afford to be sentimental that day.
Dominique would watch her and make sure she didn’t balk, because forward was the only direction that would get them through this. She wouldn’t let Adianna become another Jacqueline, whose impulsiveness and doubts had destroyed her, along with most of her family.
“I’m going to see if Zachary and Michael need help,” Adianna said, looking away.
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