Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) (27 page)

Layna nodded curtly. “Fine.” She moved her
bed farther around to the other side of the fire and she curled
herself up into it to warm up, resolutely turning away from the two
men.

CHAPTER 21

Jezebel adjusted her hair, pushing stray
wisps back away from her face. She listened with feigned interest
to the speaker who was going on and on about the importance of the
Council members. Normally she would have been pleased to listen to
someone rightly talk about how important she was, but at this
particular time she was quite anxious to return to her room. She
wanted to see if Devon was well enough yet to be sent on a mission,
and was therefore growing impatient with the speaker's
long-windedness.

Devon had been healing rapidly since she had
added her power to his trance. She had set three different healers
to the task of fixing him up to get him back in peak condition so
he could get back to work for her.

As she pushed the strand of hair away from
her face, her fingers lingered on her neck a moment. She felt the
rough surface of raised skin, tracing her fingertip over the mark
she had there. Devon had tried once before, when the mark had first
appeared on her neck, to try and find out what it was. He had no
luck, and eventually his attentions had to be employed elsewhere,
leaving the mystery of her mark unsolved. But perhaps now that they
knew about the Order, he could make some progress into the matter
by adding their contacts to his own. From the information contained
in the books from Farthen, Jezebel had ascertained that the mark
was a variant form of the rune for 'blood'. But more than that she
couldn't fathom. After seeing the same mark on that hussy, she was
not about to let the matter drop again. She knew, despite
Jonathan's attempt to cover his excitement, that the mark she had
mentioned seeing on that little slut had meant something to him.
Jezebel wanted to know what it was.

The speaker was just finishing up about the
Councilor's roles in the kingdom, and he called each one of them
forward one by one. As her name was called, she rose gracefully
from her seat and waved to the applauding crowd. She smiled at
them, watching their faces as she glanced around the room. Most
here were lower nobles, excited to have received an invitation to
the palace, and they cheered her with abandon. She noted that both
Carlon and Farthen were here as well. She gave them each a short
wave. She also nodded to her father who was clapping politely,
sitting within a group of older men who were mostly chewing on
cigars. He gave her a small smile in return.

As the ceremony ended and people started
meandering towards the refreshments, Jezebel excused herself from
her throng of admirers, saying she was worried about Devon and
wanted to check in on him. She made some idle chit-chat with people
on the way out, not wanting to appear rude to her future subjects,
and then demurely excused herself from them as well.

She quickened her pace as she left the main
hall, winding her way through the palace halls towards her personal
suite. She sighed happily to herself.
My own suite at the
palace! I always knew that this is where I should be, and though
the King's bed would be even better, this is another step towards
my eventual rule. Now that I've gotten this far, nothing can stop
my advancement to garner even more power! The Order has been a
useful stepping-stone to help gain my rightful place within the
palace. Between the power I can gain from rising in their ranks to
use those below me and the power I already now have as a Councilor,
no one will be able to stop me.

She unlocked the door to her suite, and
pulled it shut behind her after entering. Devon was sitting up on
the bed, gingerly sipping at a mug of something steaming that a
healer was holding. He wrinkled his nose in distaste as she pushed
it towards him, urging him to finish it. With a resigned sigh, he
gulped it down.

“How are you feeling?” Jezebel asked him,
dismissing the healer with a look. The woman quickly removed
herself from their presence.

“I'm feeling much better, Councilor. I may be
up for that little errand you wanted tonight as long as my contact
is available.” Jezebel nodded, pleased. The sooner she found out
about the mark the happier she'd be.

“What about our other project, any news back
on that yet?” she asked anxiously. As soon as she had gotten rid of
Jonathan the other day when -
when the unthinkable happened and
my prize was stolen out from underneath my nose
- she had gone
straight to the country manor and taught her hounds there a whole
new little trick.

She had been pleasantly surprised to find
that she had still been gripping a tuft of hair that she had ripped
from the girl's head, and she used this to ingrain upon her pets
who to kill. That particular rune shone blood red when she was
done, having poured her anger into the shaping of their training.
She had no doubt that when they found her - and find her they would
- they would rip her gorgeous little body to shreds. It was a
moment that she wished she could be there for, but she would not
risk the whore getting away again. Twice already her quarry had
escaped her, and she did not intend to give them another
chance.

She had alerted her own militia, as well as
the city guard, that the renegades were dangerous traitors to be
caught and brought in by any means necessary.
I do so hope that
the hounds find them first though
. Devon had guessed that the
renegades would be out in the wilderness, and out there you never
know what you might run into. Whereas in the city a death would
have to be explained, in the woods when you come across a pile of
flesh, you just move quickly on, especially with all the rumors
floating around about the reawakening of the dark beasts. Jezebel
smiled, imagining the girl reduced to a bloodied pile of flesh and
bones. Gryffon, on the other hand, she had told them to drag to
her. To drag him within an inch of his life if they needed to, but
him she wanted to see. She wanted him to look into her eyes as he
died and know that she had been the cause of it.

A bell rang at the door and Jezebel jumped at
the piercing sound. She quickly recovered herself, and called out
that whoever it was may enter. Jonathan came strolling into the
room and took a seat before Jezebel could offer him one, spreading
himself out over it.

“Won't you sit down,” she said sarcastically
at the door where he should still be standing, and then rolled her
eyes to turn towards him.

“And how are we doing after our little
escapade the other day?” Jonathan asked Devon, who simply glowered
at him. “Well,” admonished Jonathan, giving his eyebrows a quick
raise. “He’s a talkative one isn't he? You'd think he'd show a
little appre-shiation.” His words slurred slightly.

“He did just get stabbed twice you might
remember,” Jezebel defended Devon. “Not to mention that it is only
thanks to him and his work, despite his wounds, that we have
something to report to you.”

Jonathan yawned. “Oh? And what is that?”

Devon finally spoke. “I had an informant
report this morning that two men were caught just inside the border
from Treymayne.”

“And what did they tell the informant?”
Jonathan asked in a voice one might use when talking to a small
child.

Devon's glaring eyes reduced themselves to
slits and he continued, though his tone was barbed, “Only one of
them would talk, the other killed himself before they could
interrogate him. But the one who did indicated that there were more
like them coming through and that they were aware that the King was
planning something.”

Jonathan stared off into space, looking past
Devon, and didn't say anything. Devon looked askance at Jezebel,
but she simply shook her head and shrugged.

Jonathan seemed to come back to himself and
he shook his head as if to clear it. “What was that?” he asked.
Devon gave him a strange look, glancing again at Jezebel who nodded
for him to repeat it. He did so, and this time it seemed to sink in
for the man.
What is going on with him?
Jezebel wondered,
annoyed at this change in his behavior.

“Devon, could you excuse us for a moment?”
she asked Devon, her eyes never leaving Jonathan. Jonathan followed
the other man with his eyes as Devon stood and walked out of the
room. They had taken on a rather glazed quality, and Jezebel felt
the urge to snap in front of his face.

“What is the mark, Jonathan?” she asked,
acting on a hunch that perhaps Jonathan's faculties were not
running at full capacity today, and prepared to take full advantage
of that fact.

Jonathan's mood swung around again, this time
anger replacing the fascination with which he had watched Devon
leave, and he sneered at her. “Why should I tell you? It's none of
your concern. You know what we choose to tell you and nothing
more.”

“But I know of someone else who has one too,
and you didn't tell me that,” she goaded him. She was rewarded with
another surge of anger and an outburst.

“If you mean yourself, my dear, think again.
We've known about you for some time. In fact, if it wasn't for
Master taking an interest in you, the gods only know why, you'd
still just be Specimen 32, a number, nothing more. And not only
that, but-” Jonathan seemed to suddenly come to reality once more
and cut himself off mid-sentence, falling silent.

“What do you mean by that?” Jezebel demanded,
infuriated that he would make such a strange and
unflattering-sounding claim. He clamped his mouth tightly shut,
however, and without another word rose and walked past her out of
the room. He didn't pause in the hallway when she yelled after him
either. She stood there watching him get farther and farther down
the hall, and shouted obscenities at him all the way.

“That's hardly any way for a lady to act,”
said a voice from behind her. She turned, and her father stepped
out of the shadows towards her. She nodded to him and shrugged. She
fought down the flush that annoyingly tried to overtake her
face.

She asked him in and he acquiesced, saying
that he had come to beg an audience with the new Council member and
ask her how it was all going.

“It's all going wonderfully, Father,” she
gushed to him, putting the little twerp, Jonathan, out of her mind.
“The other Council members are completely in agreement with my
plans.”

“I'm happy to hear that. And your rooms here,
they are satisfactory?”

Jezebel tried to read his tone. Had he asked
that because he too, knew that she deserved even better than these,
or was this a snub at her, that her rise to power was only because
she wanted more girlish things. She couldn't make up her mind so
she answered simply, “They will be for the time being.”

Her father exchanged a few other pleasantries
with her before departing; shaking her hand in an uncharacteristic
parting gesture and leaving her wondering what his real reasons
were for coming by. Perhaps he was jealous of her new status and
had come in an attempt to discover something bad about it. Or maybe
he hoped to use it somehow to gain himself something.
Ah well,
I've obtained my seat on the Council and now I intend to use it to
my benefit, no one else's.
She found herself losing interest in
her father rapidly, not even bothering to hold onto the anger that
she had first felt.

She picked up her wineglass and took a sip,
noticing as she set it back down that a smudge of blood had
appeared on its body. She looked down at her hand and saw that
there was a tiny nick on her palm. Perhaps she had gotten a
paper-cut. She grabbed a towel from next to the wash-bin, cleaning
it off while sealing the cut with the power. Since using the
hounds, she’d felt much more confident in the use of her talent and
she reveled in the sense of satisfaction it gave her in its
everyday use.

Now that she was officially seated and moved
into the palace, she needed to formulate new plans. Being one of
six on a Council where they had to agree on things simply was not
going to cut it for her. She needed to find a way to be more
influential to the King and the kingdom's happenings than by being
just one of the members.
Hmm, perhaps I should get the King to
marry me and then he could have an unfortunate accident.
She
considered this possibility for a moment.
No, he's far too
handsome to just dispose of. I'd like to keep him around. He'd just
need to be more agreeable.
Her feminine charms may not do the
trick, though she was quite good at using them, but there were
always other methods of convincing people. Perhaps she'd have to
set Devon to the task of finding out things about the King that he
may not want shared. After all, he was from the outskirts of the
country, and who knows what sort of uncivilized things they did out
there. There was bound to be something she could uncover that would
persuade him to join her.

Doing some more research on the other
Councilors wouldn't hurt either, it may be a good way to sway them
towards her cause if she could dangle a little tidbit of
information that she knew about them in front of their noses. She’d
also have to have Devon look into this ‘Specimen 32’ business. She
hadn’t the faintest idea what Jonathan had meant by it, and it only
further fueled her curiosity about the mark. Perhaps the two were
connected. Her mind made up, Jezebel went to draft some
possibilities for Devon.

CHAPTER 22

Layna walked Fly along slowly as he picked
his way through the snow covered ground. She didn't bother to wait
up for Charles and Gryffon. Reason kept telling her that it was
silly of her to be angry with Gryffon. After all, he really didn't
do anything to her personally. He had whispered to her last night
that he had been there to watch Jezebel and through her, her
father. That Treymayne's interest in her family was the reason that
he got caught up with the awful woman anyway. This had only further
upset Layna, however, since he had just told her that the reason
had been money. And maybe it was both somehow, that money had ended
giving him a good excuse, but it still hurt her to know that he had
been keeping things from her.
And so easily and with such a
straight face
.