Mike looked up as a crow landed on a branch behind us, cawing loudly in the silence. “Maybe you should just run the whole track.”
“I’ll be okay. It’s just a forest.” I patted his upper arm. “The scariest thing out here will probably be my own imagination. Then again, I am a vampire, so the scariest thing out here would actually be me.”
“Ha! I love the way you look at things, Ara.”
“Just doing my bit to be positive.”
“Well, in the end, that’s what’s gonna get you through this.” He looked at the crow again.
“What’s wrong with the damn crow?” I said mockingly. “Do you think he’s a spy?”
“These days, baby, I’d believe almost anything. Come on—” With his arm over my shoulder, he turned us and started walking. “It’s time to take you to your first, official, Private Council meeting.”
“Oh, goodie.” I clapped once, sarcasm festering in the air around me.
Under a trap door that slid into a concealed pocket when Mike stepped on a tile marked with a Symbol, was a set of stone stairs, leading below the manor in a circle. If I’d walked over that door, being hidden in the twist of the Throne Room’s patterned marble, I’d never have known it was there. And with the door gone, it almost looked like the circle continued, breaking into stairs as it went beneath. We followed them down, tracing the stone column they wrapped, until a dark room opened out before us; flame torches burned low in sconces on the rock walls, which reached high up to the floor of the Throne Room, with hollows displaying small statues, swords or tablets.
“Original.” I dropped back on my heels, looking at the stone table. “Knight’s of the Round Table.”
“Where do you think the legend came from?” Blade, my sneaky personal guard, came up from behind.
“Really? That was made up by Lilithians?”
“That’s what they tell me.” He shrugged and sat down, arms crossed behind his head, leaning right back in his chair. “Pretty funny, huh?”
“It wasn't made up,” said Morgaine as she skipped into the room. “The knight’s were once great and many. The head of each Core sat at this table, with the queen—” she pointed at me and then to a chair up the back of the room, “—while they wrote the laws that helped form our society. It’s not a myth or a joke, Blade!”
“Sorry.” He rolled his eyes and sat forward, dropping his elbows onto his knees.
“Ease off the guy, Morg,” Falcon said from the opposite side of the room, arms folded, foot against the wall behind him, as if he’d been standing in here the whole time.
“Falcon? How’s vampirism treating you?” Morgaine asked. “Haven't seen you since you were bitten.”
“Strangely, not so different.”
“Well, once you’re full strength, you’ll love it,” she said and placed a phone at the centre of the table. “For Emily to join in.”
“Just Emily?” I asked, hinting that David should be, too.
“Yes,” Mike said, pulling one of the ordinary kitchen chairs out from the ancient stone table. “That makes the Council complete.”
“Right,” I said, nodding. So, he hadn’t told the knights David was still alive. I wondered if he would. Well, he’d have to soon. I mean, even if I hadn’t decided to have them on my Private Council, they’d still be present for meetings and pretty much anything else I said or did.
“Ah, Eric, there you are.” Blade flipped his chin; I looked behind me as Eric and Quaid jumped off the last step, laughing.
“Something funny, boys?” Cop-Mike possessed the easy-going posture of my BFF.
“Sorry, Chief. We got lost.” Quaid punched Eric softly in the arm.
“Yeah, it was my fault. We were hanging out with the maids in the staff quarters, but there are so many doors down there—I swore the exit was the one on the right.” Eric stopped laughing for a second and looked at Quaid, but it burst out of them again like a car horn.
“Okay—” Mike rested his elbows on his knees, “—so, what did you find when you turned right?”
“Fat Margret and Edgar—kissing in the broom closet.” They roared with laughter again.
“Old Margie—that nosey hag from dinner?” Blade asked.
“Yup.” Eric composed himself. “You should have seen the look on her face—being caught with a lowly servant.”
“They didn’t have a candlestick, did they?” Mike asked, and I laughed, though everyone else just stared at him. “Margret, in the broom closet—you know, the game—clue-something?” he said leadingly.
The only response was cleared throats and chirping crickets, though I was probably imagining the crickets. “Don't worry, Mike. I got it.”
He smiled at me, shaking his head, then stood up and offered me his chair. “I'm gonna call her Mrs. Peacock from now on.”
“Mike, that makes no sense,” Morgaine said.
“That’s because you never played board games.”
“Yeah.” I sat down. “Mike and I used to play that game with my mum all the time, right, Mike?”
“Yeah.” He smiled warmly at the past.
“Mrs. Peacock was a game?” Morg asked.
“No—a character from a game,” Mike said.
“O…kay. Whatever.” Morgaine sat down.
“For an old bird, Morg, you don't know much about nineties pop-culture,” Blade said.
“Shut up, douchebag!”
“Okay, cool it, you two,” Mike cut in. “Now, first on the agenda today—” He paused and looked at the phone. “Morg, did you actually call Emily?”
“Oh, Crap.” She grabbed the phone, her cheeks blushing, and dialled Em’s number.
“Ha! She is like Ara,” Quaid piped up, and the other guys shushed him.
Morg gave him a vehement glare then turned back to the phone when Emily answered. “Hi, Em. Meeting time.”
“Okay. Present,” Emily said in her sweet voice.
“Em?” Mike said.
“Hey, Mike!”
“Hey, gorgeous. So, meeting begins now; just speak up if you wanna add something.”
“M’kay.”
I looked from the phone, to Mike. It was once weird to see him so affectionately look at another girl—er, phone—but it kind of felt nice now, to know he was happy—that he wasn’t alone.