Never wake a Dragon (on hold)

8. part IV - accused

An eerie quiet greeted them the second they entered the room that always gave Adeem the creeps. The golden bust stood center stage, overseeing absolutely everything. He wondered if the entourage of fae knew to keep silent in front of the High Councilor's presence, or if they simply waited to unleash the wrath that darkened their light eyes. The juxtaposition of anger and their inherent serene beauty struck him as jarring. Of course, Vincent's father had every right to be angry, but the tension conveyed accusation rather than grief.

"Lorian," Kyung greeted, halting a fair distance from the group. "Why don't we talk in my office." The dragon managed to remain polite, but the undertone carried a wealth of information to those who knew how to listen. For a moment, Adeem wondered when he'd learned enough about Kyung to know such a thing.

"No." Vincent's father seemed to have run out of patience. "We talk here."

Adeem inched closer to Nev. If Lorian wished to remain in the room, it could only mean he wanted the Council to hear every word he said and more. The logical part of Adeem's brain argued that it was only natural. A murder of this kind would reach the Council's ears sooner or later, and if necessary, they would aid in search for a culprit. But, he recalled Vincent's ravaged neck and Lorian's attempts to blame him for the fire as they had stood in Vincent's ruined apartment. The two likely culprits were already here. Whatever logic there was behind all this, he didn't like it.

Kyung stepped closer to the fae, tall and imposing before them—threatening even. "Let's hear it then."

Lorian appeared beyond any exchange of pleasantries. "Why are those two still free to walk around as if nothing happened?" The fae pointed straight at him and Nev. "They killed my son. What kind of Guardian are you."

"The kind who doesn't judge before I have any shred of evidence that connects them to the murder. Do you think I take this lightly? Vincent's death is a tragedy that will affect us all."

"This is madness. Chain them in a dungeon, or I will take care of it myself." Each and every fae behind Lorian stirred and seemed to step closer.

Nev clasped his hand, cold as ice. He could almost smell Nev's fear and had no doubts their auras were pulsing with worry. It was something that wouldn't help their case when they set out to prove their innocence. He pressed Nev's fingers, allowing the touch to ground him and cool his nature. There was enough fury in the room already, and he had to be strong, not for himself, but for Nev. If the High Councilor got a reading of his powers, he'd spend the rest of his life on the run.

Kyung appeared less collected, although his job required that he remained tempered and in charge. Guardian's were not meant to rule with emotion. Kyung botched that with one line, "I'm mad? You're the one throwing insults at my feet." If he wasn't mad he was at least furious.

Thorns grew from Lorian's skin, covering his hands with sharp hooks that would cut through steel if necessary, and demon skin for that matter. "Vincent died at the hands of a vampire and a demon. You cannot argue against proof. And their scents linger on his body. What more do you need?"

A demon.

Nev's nails dug into his skin again. He couldn't tell if it was meant to convey a warning, or if the vampire's fear had soared to new heights. Perhaps it was both. If another demon roamed around Stockholm, it could only mean trouble. Demons were strange creatures, singular and reclusive to the point where it was impossible to say how many there were. He was the exception to the rule, something Kyung had already noted weeks ago.

"These two are Vincent's friends. I understand they spent some time together last evening which would explain the scents. Spending time with your son doesn't mean they killed him, however." Kyung appeared to have regained his poise.