Mark of Betrayal

“Who are they?”



“Okay, so there’s two other Councils; one is made up of six vampires, who will, when we get control of the Sets, be the new Set leaders, and the other six are Lilithians, who are Lords of the lands our people live on.”



“Like vassals and fiefs and all that stuff?” I sat up straight, turning in my seat to look at his face.



“Yeah.” He laughed. “Exactly like that. Actually, Arthur was the Lord of Loslilian—back when David was human.”



“Really? But wasn’t he a Set leader?”



“Yeah. His Set resided here for that period—in the houses you’ll see over those hills in a minute.” He nodded out his window. “Anyway, do you understand more about the political side of things now?”



“Yep. You just condensed Morgaine’s eight-week speech into eight minutes, and I totally get all that now.”



“Well, I’ve always had a way with words.”



“Yeah, you’d make a great teacher.”



Mike nodded to himself, his lips arching downward with thought. “But I make a better Security Chief.”



I nodded and looked out at the seemingly state-wide expanse of fields. “So, how much land do we own out here?”



The Chief rattled off a bunch of numbers, then, seeing my concentration waver, said, “You can fit four or five suburbs on our land. And we own the beach, too. No one can access it without approval—well, no humans. Those at the manor can go down there as they please.”



“What’s the sand like? Is it white and smooth, like Perth, or is it covered in shells and sea-weed?”



Mike hesitated. “It’s white. Smooth. But I don’t want you down there.”



“Why?”



“Because it’s a dangerous beach, Ara. It’s a narrow strip of sand, caged in by two massive cliffs that get thrashed by ferocious waves. It’s private and secluded and you have to go down a really steep set of stone stairs to get to it.”



“So?”



“So, it’s dangerous,” his voice became high. “You could get swept out to sea if you’re not careful—or bashed against rocks.”



“Are you saying I’m too weak to swim in the ocean?”



He just raised a brow.



“Fine. I won’t go down there…” When you’re around.



“Thank you.” He exhaled. “Look, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a jerk, but I promised David I’d take care of you.”



“It’s fine, Mike.” I reached across and tapped his knee, then drew my hand away. “So, will I get to see the manor over the hill before we get there?” I sat a little taller.



“Yep, just watch over that rise.” He nodded out his side window. “We’ll come to a forest soon, so you won’t see it for long, but you’ll get a glimpse.”



I did see a glimpse then, of something other than a manor. “Is that the houses you were talking about?”



“Yeah,” Mike said. “We’ve just had them all refurbished. We’re moving Lilithians back in there this week.”



“What about the vampires who lived there?”



“Unless they’re faithful to the new queen, they’ve been evicted.”



Somehow, that didn’t feel right.



“Ara, the Lilithians we’re moving back into those houses have been living underground in cells for hundreds of years—working as slaves. Their only food has been the vampires that were sent to Loslilian for torture and—”



“Really?”



“Yes. So, don’t feel sorry for the vampires. They never felt sorry when they marched in and ripped human children from their adoptive Lilithian mothers, then burned them in a bonfire in the middle of the night.”



I covered my mouth. “They had children?”



“We were a nation of very human creatures, Ara. Lilithians lived for their families, for the love of life.”



“Will they be allowed to start families again—adopt children?”



“No.”



“Why?”



“Because the Upper House disapproves.”



“Why?”



“Because they do.” He huffed, re-gripping the steering wheel. “Look, no discussing politics outside Council meetings, all right?”



“Why?”



“Ara. Just…just shut up for a bit. I’m not used to all this talking—you’re actually doing my head in.”



“Fine.” I sunk back in my chair and folded my arms, my frown dropping when the grand cream fascia of a colossal building crept over the hill. “Whoa.”



“Told ya it’s big.” Mike’s tone had completely changed.



“Big? It must be six storeys high.”



“Three,” he said in short. “But each level has high ceilings, so I guess it would equate to the height of a six storey.”



“It looks like a castle from a fairy-tale,” I said, not taking my eyes from the magnificent glow of the midday sun, bouncing off a dome roof, marking the centre of the large, seemingly rectangle building.



“Yeah, it has an undeniable charm about it.”



I closed my eyes, savouring the image as a forest swallowed the day around us, but the warmth of the cream bricks set among bright green hedges, with windows on every wall, stayed in my heart while the car followed the winding path, further and further away from the sun. “I think I’m going to like it here.”



“I know you will.” Mike smiled, taking the turns in the road as if he’d lived here his whole life.



“I can see why you like it.”



His smile widened. “This has been the best few months of my life. I—well, it’s been hard leaving Em behind, but I’ve kept busy getting the manor and the knights ready for your arrival.”



“Is Emily visiting this weekend?”



“No.”



“I wish David could visit.”



“I know.”



“He won’t talk to me, you know?”



“What do you mean?”



“He was really mad at me.”



“No. He was mad, Ara, but you know it’s not really you he’s mad at, don’t you?”



I shook my head. “No. He is mad at me. He’s mad that I let myself be bound to Jason. He’s mad that I do stupid things because my heart tells me to. And I’m sure he’s mad at me for still breathing.”



“Baby, don’t say things like that. You know that’s not true.”



“I reckon it is. Think about it; he lived his whole life serving one king. Then, I not only came along and ruined his beliefs in his law system, but I happen to be a Lilithian, who is gonna throw everything out of order for the sake of a prophecy. I’ve turned his world upside down—just by existing.”



Mike sighed. “Ara. Grow up. You know David doesn’t feel that way.”



“Yeah. Whatever.” I let out a long breath, feeling queasy again with the way the road tipped downward, taking us on a steep decline to where the trees stopped abruptly at the base, parting only for a wide, multi-coloured brick wall with stones of red, yellow, and pale blues—natural colours, mostly. It looked charming, in a secret garden kind of way, but the spear-tipped iron gates took the fairy-tale out of the scene, screaming graveyard. Back behind me, I could see where the trees thinned out again as the road led away. “They’re not natural are they?”



“Huh?” Mike looked sideways at me as we pulled up beside a speaker box in front of the gate.



“The trees? They didn’t grow around this wall, did they—someone put them here? I mean, trees don’t just grow in a line like that in the middle of an empty field.”



“Oh, uh—yeah. I think so. I don’t really notice things like that, Ara.” He wound his window down and leaned out slightly, then turned back for a second. “Why don’t you ask Morgaine—she knows all about this place?”



“Okay.”



“George? You there, mate?” Mike asked the box.



“Hey—it’s Mikey,” a jolly, old-sounding voice came through the speaker.



“Hey, George. You wanna open the gates? I got a future queen in my car.”



“No worries, sir. I’ll be down in a jiffy.”



The sound of the car engine—something usually quite soothing—was only a filler for the intimidating silence that swallowed my ability to breathe. “Where are all the people? I thought they were rallying to meet me.”



“They’ll be up at the manor, I’d say.”



“How many?” I squirmed in my seat.



“Not too many. The Ninth and the First Orders aren’t here. It’s only the Fifth and the Upper House.”



“Why?”



“Because the other ones are across international waters, Ara, and besides, the knights just gave them back their homes—they’re all refurbishing and setting up their new lives.”



“Oh. Cool, so, how many people, er…Lilithians are gonna be there?”



Mike scratched his head and the gate opened before us. “’Bout a hundred.”



As we pulled forward, nerves pinched my chest, and Mike dipped his head to the old man by the gate, whose stark white hair looked transparent in the sun, his skinny legs barely holding his bent frame.



“Pleasant drive, sir?” the man said.



“As always, George,” Mike said, then looked along the sides of the road for a second, frowning. “Where are all the cars? Surely the people haven’t parked up by the fountain?”



“No, sir.” George wrapped his fingers over the doorframe, through the open window. “Miss Morgaine called a stop to all visitors ‘til our princess is settled. Just the Upper House up there today.”



Mike’s jaw went tight and he gave the steering wheel a soft whack with the ball of his palm. “I told her not to do that.”



“She felt it best, Sir.”



He looked at the old man, clearly wanting to shoot the messenger. “All right, thanks, George.”



“Be well,” George said and stepped back, saluting Mike as we drove slowly away.



“What was that all about?”



“Looks like you get your wish.”



“Really? No fan club?”



“Nope.”



“Yay.” I sat taller and looked to the road ahead, closed in by the trees that concealed the brick wall. I half expected to have grey hairs by the time they parted and the manor rose up in front of me again. My eyes widened to allow for the sheer height of it, sitting on a long gravel drive that ended in a turn-circle, wrapping a giant fountain. Along the sides of the road, the trees spread all the way back past grassy lawns, lined with hedge fences. A large section of the manor sat further forward, double white doors at the centre, with stairs leading up to a group of about seven people.



“You like it.”



“Yeah,” I said as we came closer—close enough to count the walls as three windows high and at least sixteen long on each side of the front door. Waiting in a line at the base of the stairs were a neat party of women in pale grey dresses with white aprons. “The staff, I’m guessing?” I pointed to them.



“Yup.”



“And, are all those people on the porch the Upper Council?”



“House. Upper House. Do you remember which ones are of highest authority, from what Morgaine taught you?”



I swallowed. “Um, yeah.”



“Liar.” Mike laughed.



My neck shrunk between my shoulders. “Oh crap. I really should’ve paid more attention.”



He chuckled, shaking his head. “If you paid any attention, you would’ve been better off.”



“Oh, God.” I hid my brow in my hand, looking off to the side.



Mike pulled my hand away from my face. “It’s all right. You don’t need to know that, right now. Just nod and smile, baby.”



I nodded and smiled, turning my head when Mike suddenly appeared at my door, offering his hand.



“My lady.”



“Oh, you just love that new speediness, don’t you?”



His fingers, so thick and strong, tightened around mine as he closed the car door behind me. “Do you even need to ask?”



The stillness and quiet that came from the day then made my footsteps, crunching over the gravel, sound like pebbles being jiggled in a small bag. The only other sound was the soothing trickle of water falling into the round bath at the base of the fountain.



Despite the glaring sun making me squint, I looked all the way up at the statue’s smiling face; she seemed to hide a secret behind her eyes, perhaps one whispered by the snake on her shoulder, its lips to her ear. “Who is that?”



Mike looked up at her. “Lilith.”



“Our Lilith?”



“Yeah,” he said distractedly, closing the trunk as he grabbed my suitcase. “The snake is said to represent the original Lilith—the one who conned Eve into eating the Fruit of Wisdom.”



My eyes rounded. “Wow. I remember Dad talking about God’s Lilith in a lecture once.”



“Yeah? So, you are capable of retaining information.”



I slapped his shoulder as he stood beside me. “I remember everything you ever tell me.”



He scoffed. “Pity you never give my words any value.”



“I do. I take on board all your advice, Mike. I just choose to follow the bits that appeal to me.”



“So, none of it appeals to you?”



“Not usually.” I shrugged.



“You annoy me,” he said in a deep, humoured tone.