“I’ve made it a policy to never turn down an offer of help, but I’m afraid I’m still a bit lost. You keep mentioning governors, but I don’t know exactly who you’re talking about.” The headache that always seemed to be hovering over me like a dark cloud intensified.
“The governing board,” Rick explained.
“Governing board?” I frowned and rubbed my forehead. “I thought the Zenith ruled the Brotherhood.”
“One normally does, but the last Zenith . . .” Janice sent another glance toward her husband.
He picked up where she left off. “The last Zenith was destroyed by the vampire scum she fought so valiantly against.”
“Whoa, now! First of all, vampires are not scum. I know several of them, and they’re perfectly nice people.”
The couple wore identical shocked expressions. “You . . . know them?” Rick finally asked.
“Yes.” I crossed my arms, daring them to say something. There was absolutely no love lost between the Brotherhood and the Dark Ones-quite the opposite, since pretty much a state of war existed between the two. But I was long past caring what the Brotherhood thought of my knowing vampires. In fact, I considered telling them I was Kristoff’s Beloved. That might just guarantee that I wouldn’t be involved with their group anymore.
Then again, it might also mean my demise. The Brotherhood held to a no-quarter policy when it came to vamps and their buddies.
Jan and Rick exchanged glances. “That’s . . . unusual,” Rick finally said. “I don’t know quite what to say to that.”
“Well, I have some other news that you might be interested in. Those vampires you are blaming for the death of the Zenith are innocent. She was shot and killed by one of your own.”
“No,” Janice said, shaking her head. “The director of the board of governors was there. I read his report on the horrible tragedy, and he stated quite clearly that he was there trying to protect the Zenith. She was killed by a vampire. It was his gun that shot her.”
I sucked my bottom lip for a moment as I moved behind the reception desk, keeping a distance between us. I didn’t exactly expect them to fling themselves upon me with knives, but stranger-and deadlier-things had happened during my time in Iceland, and if nothing else, my time there had taught me a certain amount of circumspection where members of the Brotherhood were concerned.
“I was there, too, you know,” I finally said.
Surprise lit their eyes.
I nodded, a little curious by that. I had a suspicion I knew who they were talking about, although I hadn’t known he was the director-Frederic Robert, a soft-spoken Frenchman who was no stranger either to power or the ability to use it. But he was in jail in Iceland, although obviously he’d had some sort of contact with the Brotherhood if he had been able to make a report. The question that tickled my mind was why he hadn’t told the reapers that I was present at the same time. “I saw exactly what happened, and I can assure you that Denise was not shot by a vampire. But that’s really a moot point, isn’t it? The fact is that she’s dead, and I’m no longer a Zorya, so although I’m flattered that you’re so keen to see me, I’m afraid that you’re bound to be disappointed. I do not intend to do any more Zoryaing.”
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way,” Rick said.
“I don’t care what the procedure is to de-Zorya oneself; whatever it takes, I’ll do it,” I said sharply. “I will be happy to hand over this stone to whoever wants to take the job, so long as someone takes it, and soon. In fact, there’s no time like the present.”
Janice backed away as I walked forward, taking off the bracelet in an attempt to hand it to her. She lifted her hands as if to hold me off. “Oh, no, I couldn’t take that! It’s the Midnight stone!”
“Someone has to take it,” I insisted. “I’m not going to hold on to it forever.”
“You’re the Zorya,” Rick said with a decidedly stubborn set to his jaw.
“Oh, for God’s sake . . .”
The door jangled as a woman entered, her presence and voice seeming to fill the room with sunshine. “Are you ready to go to lunch? Ray found the most divine diner. It’s just like something out of . . . What was that show set in Alaska, Ray?”
Magda, in the doorway, turned to look back at Ray, but all I saw of him was his hand waving as he disappeared down the walk toward the street. Magda shrugged and turned back to me with a smile. “It doesn’t matter, although he says the pie there is a definite must. Oh, I’m sorry; I didn’t realize you were busy.”