Keeping Secret: Secret McQueen, Book 4 (26 page)

“Don’t let me stop you,” Holden said from his place in the armchair. “I was enjoying the show.”

I threw my hoodie at him. “Make yourself useful. I need to be dressed for council in three minutes.” If I had a fashion editor in my living room, I was going to put him to work.

We went opposite ways, he into my bedroom where he would make himself at home in my closet, and me to the bathroom where I would attempt to scrape off last night’s booze-induced pity party and the exhausted patina it had left on my face.

He mumbled something from the other room.

“Are you bitching about my wardrobe again?” I would be pissed if he was. I’d spent a lot of time and money making it into something respectable since I’d joined the Tribunal. Nothing in my closet was comfortable, but at least I looked hot in it.

I splashed cold water onto my face, and when I straightened, his reflection was next to mine in the mirror. I yelped. “Christ, Holden, do I need to put a little bell on you?”

He continued to speak like I hadn’t even opened my mouth. “What I said was, I was here to see if you’re doing all right. After…you know.” His eyes drifted down to the gray scar on my side. It would whiten over time like the sword wound it was next to. But they’d never heal completely. That was silver for you. I had another white line on my arm and a second star-shaped one on my shoulder from the first assassin’s highway attempt.

For someone who was supposed to be able to heal anything, I was starting to show a lot of permanent damage.

“I’m fine.”

“Where’s your pet dog?”

With those four words he undid all the healing I thought I’d done, proving once and for all there were plenty of wounds I couldn’t keep from reopening.

“What did I say? Jesus, stop crying. I don’t do crying.” He ripped a wad of toilet paper off the roll and shoved it in my face. “Especially women crying. It makes them ugly.”

I hiccupped and almost laughed.

“You
would
find an insult funny, wouldn’t you?”

I wiped away the tears and threw more water on myself, taking a few shaky breaths to get myself back under control. I’d managed to stop before I got all raw and snot-nosed. There was no Kleenex left in my apartment after last night, between the tears and the tear-induced boogers. God, he was right, crying made people hideous.

“Sorry.”

“You should be, that was awful.” But he was smiling in a worried way.

“What did you find me to wear?”

“Well, I picked this, but I think I might need to go back and get something more absorbent.” He held up a bundle of red satin straps that bore no resemblance to anything that would cover me, but I knew better. I’d bought it, after all.

“Get out so I can change.” I shoved him towards the door.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Nothing you’re going to see again.” I slammed the bathroom door in his leering face.

When I came out a minute later I had made my hair into something resembling a French twist, I was wearing enough makeup to cover my swollen eyes, and had managed to make the puffiness work in my favor by emphasizing it with a
lot
of smoky eyeshadow. I looked squinty and mysterious.

The dress, too, had been transformed. It was no longer a motley collection of fabric strips. Once the dress was on it was a plunging V-neck with straps crisscrossing from front to back in a woven tapestry that would all come undone if someone were to pull the tie at the nape of my neck.

It was a dangerous dress, but right then it was what I needed.

Holden let out a whistle and handed me a pair of silver stiletto sandals. “Now there’s the Secret I know and…know.”

I tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work.

“Come on.” He wound his arm around my shoulder and pulled me towards the door. “Let’s get you to your adoring fans.”

I snorted. “Oh yes, they can’t get enough of me.”

“Well at least you’ll be dressed and ready for after.”

“After?”

He handed me the hot pink card that had been stuck to my fridge. Oh
God
, Sig wasn’t kidding. I really did need a fucking agenda. I think my stupid new fancy phone had a calendar. The card in my hand had clip-art images of martini glasses and handcuffs on it and said,
She’s still single…but not for long.

Mercedes wasn’t exactly a Photoshop wiz, but the invitations were cute.

And I’d totally forgotten about it in the excitement and near-death of the last week and a half.

Tonight was my goddamned bachelorette party.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

My heels clacked on the tile floor of the council headquarters. I couldn’t recall ever seeing the space empty before, especially since nighttime was when vampires did
all
their work. But here I was, alone in the great room with nary a soul in sight, and all the lights were dimmed.

It was creepy as hell.

Holden had escorted me the whole way but had declined my offer to accompany me inside. He was going to wait at the small SoHo coffeehouse across the street until I was finished. I wondered why he refused to go to the perfectly good Starbucks two doors down, but I think most vampires were leery of Starbucks because of Calliope.

The last thing anyone needed was to accidentally slip into another reality when all they wanted was a cappuccino.

I hesitated before the door leading down to the sublevels. What could I do or say that hadn’t already been done? Were there any words or gestures left that might help Brigit get what she deserved?

Sighing, I pulled the door open and made the descent into the basement. When I’d come before the Tribunal in the past, the steps had felt perilous to go down, the stone always slick and designed to put people in a state of unbalance, literally and mentally. Now that I’d been one of them for all these months, the steps didn’t faze me anymore. I jogged down them with as much speed as my constrictive dress would allow, and my shoes made a dreadful echo the whole way.

As Holden once said, a troupe of elephants might have announced themselves with more subtlety.

I didn’t bother knocking at the council suite—I just pushed the doors open.

Sometimes you have one of those moments where you come into a room and everyone stops talking all at once, making you absolutely certain they’ve recently been talking about you. This was like that, but a million times worse since everyone was staring at the door and no one had been talking to begin with.

Brigit stood in the circle of light in the middle of the room, wearing a simple black dress and leather ballet flats. Her hair was pushed away from her face with a headband and hung in a long, flaxen sheet down her back. I smiled apologetically and walked past her to cross the floor.

“I’m sorry, Secret, did we inconvenience you?” Juan Carlos said. Was it me or did his sneer seem deeper than ever tonight?

I sneered right back but didn’t rise to the bait. I saw what had happened last time I let him get my goat in public, and I wasn’t about to repeat those mistakes. Tonight wasn’t about my pride, however wounded it had become over the last few days. Tonight was about Brigit.

Taking my place next to Sig, I addressed the gathered elders. “My apologies for the lateness of my arrival. I trust you weren’t waiting too long?”

Rebecca rose and gave the three of us each a bow. “We are, as always, at the leisure of the Tribunal. No apology is necessary.”

Take
that
, Juan Carlos. The elders would never in a million years admit a Tribunal leader had put them out in any way. I didn’t bother to look at the Spaniard. I’d stuck it to him without even speaking to him directly.

“Then if there are no further delays or complaints,” Sig said, deflating my feeling of victory with the jab of his words, “may we please continue?”

Much of what we’d gone over at the previous meeting was rehashed, and Juan Carlos made a point of voicing his opposition loudly and often, but in the end this wasn’t up to us. It was up to the elders. After an hour of intense discussion, they requested to be left alone with Brigit.

In the damp, dark hall I stood next to Sig while Juan Carlos paced like a caged wildcat.

“If this goes through…” he growled.

“Yes, Juan Carlos, please tell me. What sort of life-altering changes to the council do you believe this will cause?” Sig was leaning against the stone wall, looking for all the world like he didn’t have a single shit to give about the outcome of this situation.

“It sets a dangerous precedence.”

“
How
?” I snapped.

“It shows the council your progeny have special favor.”

“My
progeny
?” I turned from Juan Carlos to Sig. “What the ever loving fuck is he talking about?”

“For all intents and purposes, the council considers Brigit to be your offspring.”

“But she was turned by—”

Sig silenced me with a look so cold a shiver danced down my spine. “It doesn’t matter who turned her, Secret, not anymore. To the council she is yours.”

“But—”

“Because if she was the offspring of anyone else, say a known rogue, she might suffer the same fate as her creator. So it’s a good thing she isn’t.”

I’d never asked what had become of the other girls Peyton had turned. The prostitutes, the ones no one cared about. I’d stopped thinking about them the moment his case had been closed. It never occurred to me they might be killed because of who their sire was.

Sig had told the council Brigit was mine.

That’s why she was assigned to me. Why she was allowed to live.

And it didn’t hurt that it convinced the council my vampire half was strong enough to turn others. He’d saved Brigit and made the elders believe I was more of a vampire than I really was. Juan Carlos knew the truth, but was using the outcome of the lie against me.

I shut up.

Maybe he was right. I hadn’t intended to give Brigit an edge because people thought of her as my child, but I’d hoped I could give her an edge because she was my ward. The difference between the two was so slim the edges started to blur together. Could I say I wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing if she really were my creation?

No. Whether I’d turned her or not, I would be fighting just as hard.

Sig, seeming to read the thoughts right out of my mind, put one of his large hands on my shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “It is standard for Tribunal leaders to send their progeny to other councils. To make the decision more fair. My own children, those who are based in the states, are mostly on the West Coast. Juan Carlos’s chose to remain in Europe for the most part, but he has a handful in Arizona and Texas. Even the elders tend to send their offspring to other councils.”

“But Holden…” My former warden had been sired by Rebecca, and to my knowledge both had always been based out of Manhattan.

“Holden was never a favorite of hers. She didn’t fight for him, he fought for himself.”

The only other spawn of Rebecca’s I knew of had been based out of the West Coast. “Charlie was her favorite. That’s why she sent him to California.”

It was strange to think vampire sires weren’t like parents at all. They were open and vocal about which of their creations they favored over others.

“Charles did have a certain captivating appeal to him. I think Rebecca was very proud of what she had made.”

“And what you killed,” Juan Carlos reminded me.

“At
your
orders,” I snapped back.

Sig brushed the palm of his hand over my hair, and a wave of calm washed through me. “We, as sires, must all make sacrifices. Rebecca knew Charles had to be dealt with, and her request alone would not be enough to subdue him. She understood what had to be done.”

Juan Carlos resumed pacing, grumbling under his breath. I wasn’t ready to forgive him for dragging Brigit through the muck and mire, but at least now I understood why he’d dug his heels in so hard. Granted, I think if he liked me, he wouldn’t have resisted quite so much.

“You should have told me…about Brigit.”

“Yes, my dear. I’m sure there are a great many things I
should
tell you.” Sig wasn’t looking at me when he said this, but his hand remained on my arm, and I fought against the fog of peace he was forcing on to me.

What did he mean?

I struggled to think of what other things Sig might hide from me, but there was a bottomless pit of possibilities, and my mind couldn’t even begin to sort out the number of ways he could have kept things from me over the years.

“Tell—”

The doors swung open, and a redheaded elder named Peter stood before us. “The decision has been made.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

A chair had been brought out for Brigit, and she now sat with her back to the door so I couldn’t see her face. I wanted to know if they’d told her their decision already, but it seemed unlikely a one-year-old vampire would be privy to the knowledge of her fate before the leaders of her kind would find out.

Sig, Juan Carlos and I found our seats, and once I saw Brigit’s face it became apparent she was still in the dark about the council’s final stance. She gave me a hopeful smile, and I shrugged one shoulder to tell her I was as clueless as she was.