The Council, A Witch's Memory

The Council

Book 1

A Witch’s Memory

Copyright 2011 by J.C. Isabella

Smashwords Edition

This book is the personal property of J.C. Isabella. Its characters are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. This book is for your entertainment, not to be given freely or resold in any way.

Thank you for respecting her work.

To Stephanie. The brightest stars do not outshine others. They fill lives with a soft and subtle glow, leaving a more lasting impression than a supercilious flash of light. And I would like to thank Rachel Chekov for being awesome. Having a book dedicated to you makes you cooler than everyone else in school :)

Inside he was tense, coiled, but resolvedly calm.

Then I felt him falter, his worry ratchet up.

Our gazes locked.

He would not sacrifice himself for me.

I wouldn’t allow it.

Chapter 1

Henry

The darkened hallway stretched out like a lazy black river. I listened to the sound of my footfalls echoing off the marble floors, wondering if other men who’d walked this path before me felt half of my trepidation, or the immense amount of excitement coursing though my veins.

I stopped on the threshold of an open doorway at the end of the hall, trying to imagine the next thousand years of my life.

I was excited of course, about to enter into a world I’d been groomed for. Since I was a kid I’d dreamt of attending one of the important meetings held in this very room. Now that I’d turned eighteen, I’d finally “officially” be part of it.

“You gonna stand there all day, or close the bloody door?” My cousin Davy poked his head out of the room, grinning like a fool. “Come on, Henry. No need to be nervous about your first Council meeting, even if it is an emergency one.”

I straightened. “I’m not nervous.”

Normally there was a ceremony to welcome a new member of the Council. But I’d found out by text message from Davy that the ceremony wasn’t going to happen. He’d told me to get my ass to the Council chamber because the shit was hitting the fan.

He wasn’t one to mince words.

So not only was I nervous about my first meeting, I was nervous about what was going to happen in it.

He smiled. “Don’t worry, I wont tell anyone.”

With a grateful nod, I slipped inside, shutting the door behind me. The chamber was dimly lit, but I could see the outlines of three men standing around a white marble table. They were talking in low voices, careful not to let their conversation carry. As I drew nearer I studied the men, each dressed in black, faces obscured by the low light.

Davy took his place on my left at the table and let out an anxious breath.

I stood next to James William Langley. The Warlock King. My father.

He looked formidable in his black uniform. Gold buttons adorned his coat and a saber was sheathed at his side in a black scabbard. The white gloves on his hands were a stark contrast to the dark colors of his uniform.

When I was little my father looked larger than life to me. He was the king, and the most powerful warlock, aside from my grandfather. It seemed he was capable of carrying the weight of the world on his great shoulders, just like he’d carried me.

“I would like to welcome Henry to his first Council meeting,” my father said. He smiled proudly and clapped me on the back.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I bowed out of respect. If we had been alone it wouldn’t have been so formal. “I am honored to be here.”

“And I am equally honored, Son.” With a wave of his hand my father lit torches lining the walls, shedding much needed light in the room. “Now, I should like to call this meeting to order. If there are no objections because some of our party are absent?”

“James, I do not object, merely wonder at your haste.” The Vampire King, Vladislav, chuckled. His deep blue eyes filling with amusement as he looked at my cousin. “That was a very cryptic message, Davy.”

I eyed at my cousin. “You didn’t?”

Davy shrugged, hiding a grin. “It got their attention.”

My father leaned forward to see Vladislav’s phone as he held it out. “I guess I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

There was a rumbling growl from across the table and all eyes went to King Andrew. “It was a very funny message, I get it. Now lets get down to business.”

Vladislav nodded, “Is your son to join us, Andrew?”

“Unfortunately no, Quinn is handling a dispute between clans.” King Andrew was the least vocal of the kings, one of those strong silent types, until the werewolf in him reared its head.

I’d known Andrew and Vladislav all my life. I was thankful I didn’t have to worry about the group dynamics or having to prove myself to the kings.

“And your son?” my father asked.

“Dmitri is in Russia, taking my place at a dinner I regretfully backed out of to be here.” Vladislav looked more relieved than anything to be spared an evening of schmoozing.

“Then we shall start. I advise you to prepare yourselves gentleman. For as horrible as you imagine my news to be, it has the potential to be devastating.” My father motioned for us to sit in the black, high-backed chairs surrounding the table. No one spoke. They watched patiently. “The Resistance is back.”

“Black of black,” Andrew whispered.

Black eyes, black soul.

Black of black.

When one of us went over to the dark side, a void spread through the immortal like a disease. From the inside out. Consuming the soul. Turning the eyes black. There was nothing that could be done to reverse it.

Last time the Resistance challenged the Council they were annihilated. Five hundred years ago. A group of extremists, they wanted nothing more than to take over the world and enslave the humans.

I didn’t think it was all that inventive, but at least they set a goal for themselves.

Then they decided that taking over the world wasn’t enough. They wanted to open a portal to connect our world to the plane ruled by the Demon King, Reagus.

The leader of the Resistance, Craven, thought humans were weak. He believed we were hiding from them, cowering. He tried opening the portal, and almost succeeded. My father had challenged him, and with the help of Vladislav and Andrew, defeated him and saved the world.

The three men were already highly respected, but a call for order amongst the magical communities helped them to solidify the Council. Thus it was officially formed five hundred years ago. We have kept peace and order, together, since.

Eight ears ago, Craven returned. He gathered power and support, but was betrayed by someone he was very close to. A woman, I think. It’d been so long since I’d heard the story.

“So, are you saying Craven is back?” I wasn’t quite sure what all of this meant.

“His body was never recovered.” My father’s eyes flashed a brilliant green. All immortals eyes glowed with strong emotions we had. Happiness, sadness, anger…this hit close to home for all of us.

“What information do you have that suggests the Resistance is returning?” Vladislav asked. “There are no signs of a third uprising.”

“Your Majesties,” Davy said, gaining their attention. “Last night my men arrested a man for terrorizing humans in Central Park, New York. We’ve identified him as Samuel Price. Warlock. Six hundred and thirteen years. No mate and no children.”

I picked up where he left off. “He is the son of Maxwell Price. A man you all knew to be a traitor and murderer.”

Vladislav met my gaze. “A man is not guilty because of the life his father led.”

I didn’t mean to imply that Samuel was guilty because of his father, but I could see how Vladislav would take it that way.

Not many people were aware of the vampire king’s origin. He was the illegitimate child of Vlad the Impaler. AKA, Dracula. His familial roots did not dictate who he became, and with Dracula killed just after his birth, Vladislav grew up without the influence of a monster to shape him.

That being said, once you saw past his outside appearance of leathery, tanned skin, white-blonde hair and sharp fangs revealed by the curl of his upper lip, the vampire king was pretty cool. He particularly liked bowling, every Wednesday night, Disco style.

“Sir, I am aware of that, and I mean no disrespect.” I continued at his nod. “Maxwell was involved with the Resistance, some say second in command. When our men arrested Samuel last night, he claimed his name was Bane.”

Maxwell called himself Bane. He slaughtered seventy innocents in one night. Magical and human. For Samuel to use his father’s name, knowing what it means…

Davy drummed his fingers on the table. “Samuel has no trouble voicing how deep his hatred for the Council runs. He would see each of us dead.”

“We did execute his father for treason.” I said. “Samuel made it clear he wants retribution.”

“He must not value any kind of revenge if he allowed us to arrest him.” Vladislav said.

“I sat with Samuel,” said my father. “At length I gathered, that he has a message for us, and he is waiting for a specific time to deliver it.” The concern in his expression brought new worry. In all my life I had never seen him look so forlorn. “The man is insane, make no mistake. But he is merely the messenger, and so very loyal. He will not betray his master’s confidence.”

The question I knew everyone wanted to ask was, who was his master?

Was it Craven?

“Which is why we must prepare to fight the Resistance and focus on preventative measures.” Vladislav pounded his fist on the table. The sound vibrated through the room, shaking the floor and walls. “Damn it. We’ve fought them before successfully, and we will not concede this time.”

“Yes,” Andrew growled.

“I move we keep this information from our people—for now.” My father met each set of eyes fiercely in the firelight. “It is a new world we are living in, gentlemen. One of cell phones and the Ethernet.”

I grinned, “Actually, it’s the Internet.”

“Right, and if the information spreads too quickly, or is misinterpreted, our people would panic.”

Andrew managed a smile, “I learned how to update my status last night. My youngest, Garret, showed me.”

Davy nodded. “Welcome to the twenty-fist century. You’re gonna love it.”

My father rolled his eyes and glanced at me.

“I don’t think we’re at risk of anyone tweeting about a magical war,” I said. “But I agree. Keep it secret for now.”

“Then it is decided,” Vladislav stood. “The Council shall prepare for war.”

Chapter 2

I flicked the silver button at my throat, loosening my collar as I walked down the corridor. I’d been wearing restrictive royal garb for two weeks now, and I couldn’t wait to be in jeans and a t-shirt.

The Council was old school. Dressing in a button down shirt and pants wouldn’t go over well with them. I wore a military style uniform like my father. Formal black coat, white gloves, a saber, and black boots.

At least they let me ditch the cape.

“You going somewhere?”

I turned to find Davy jogging my way. “Yeah, home.”

“You are home.”

“My other home.”

“Ah, Capeside.” His English accent was thick, much more pronounced than my own. He’d had a good fifty years of English influence.

I moved to the States eight years ago from Essex, England. My parents bought a home in Virginia for summer vacationing, and ended up staying. Then they moved to North Dakota. The rest of the Council liked it so much they followed.