Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [28]
Ione, on the other hand, talked to no one, though she did peek out from behind her thick black hair to smile a little at something Aengus had said to her. Douglas looked away. Ione didn’t strike him as being powerful enough to be on the Council. He suspected that the only reason she had a chair was that no one wanted to take her spot. That suited him just fine. Given the choices, he’d take a meek witch any day.
Kell was the one other member who consciously chose his seat, though he made the decision seem arbitrary. Douglas noticed that he always picked a chair far from him. Most of them kept their distance, but Kell more so than the rest. It was only natural. If Douglas pushed his will on Kell, it would impact him heavily, strong willed or not. Vampires were more Douglas’s domain than humans were, since they too were connected to death and, despite popular mythology, had souls. The idea that they didn’t was ridiculous. Vampires were a lot of things, but truly dead wasn’t one of them. They also weren’t truly human, either. The idea intrigued him, but he’d yet to find a vampire willing to let him experiment. Perhaps after he was finished with Bridin, Douglas would alter his cage design for new quarry.
Pello finally showed up with a jolly wave and an apologetic glance at Douglas. He shook his glamour off as soon as he passed through the doorway. The glamour was either a gift or purchased from someone, as Pello didn’t really have one of his own but needed it to get to the meeting from wherever he was nesting these days. With it, Pello looked like just another dirty hippie. His hair hung in long dreads and his stained Hawaiian shirt was unbuttoned, framing his slight paunch for everyone who did, or did not, want to see it. Without the glamour, Pello looked the same, but instead of the illusion of jean shorts and flip-flops, Douglas could now see Pello’s goat legs and hips jutting out under his shirt.
“Ugh,” Ariana said, looking away and blocking the sight of Pello with an outstretched hand. “Filthy satyrs. Can’t you wear pants?”
Pello winked at her. “I am as nature made me.” He held his arms out. “Why, baby, you like what you see?”
“No,” Ariana and several others said. “And I don’t like what I smell, either,” she added. “What will it take to get you covered and clean before a meeting?”
“You’re too removed from your heritage if nudity bothers you, sister,” Pello said, taking the empty seat at the table.
“It’s not nudity in general that bothers me, but yours specifically.” She grimaced. “I don’t want to sit where your dirty ass has been.”
“Pants are too constrictive,” Pello mumbled.
Ariana’s grimace softened to a look of impatience. “What if I get you a kilt or something? You’d only have to wear it to meetings.”
“Deal,” Pello said. He sneaked a look at her. “Can I model it for you?”
Ariana sighed and tugged on her braid. “Satyrs.”
Aengus and Kell laughed, and Ione gave another rare smile.
“Enough time wasted,” Douglas said, and the laughter died, everyone in the room going still.
Except Brannoc, who took a single long sip of his beer. He set the pint glass down gently onto a coaster. “Let’s get the meeting going, shall we?”
Douglas stared lazily at the petitioning were. The girl was thin, willowy, and didn’t have an ounce of Alpha in her. She stood before the Council practically shaking.
“So,” Douglas said, “you want us to approve your brother’s transfer in from New Jersey?”
The girl nodded. “He”—she had to stop and start again, her eyes never leaving Douglas as she stuttered—“he wants to help me with