Betrayed by Morgan Rice Page B

his face was grim.
    Caleb stopped before him, and their eyes met. They were as close as brothers could be, yet outwardly, they never showed it. They didn’t embrace each other, didn’t even shake hands. They just stood there, a few feet away, staring at each other, each nodding back to the other with a look of mutual recognition and respect.
    “Caleb,” Samuel said flatly.
    “Samuel,” Caleb answered.
    “You have come back to us,” Samuel said. “That is good. We need you now.”
    “I have much to report to the council,” Caleb said. “I only hope that they are willing to hear it.”
    Samuel nodded back, ever so slightly. “As do I,” he said.
    Samuel’s men parted ways for Caleb and Sera, and as the two of them walked down the winding staircase, Samuel’s men fell in behind them. The entire entourage walked through the lower level of the cloisters, through a room of sarcophagi, through a room of artifacts, until they finally reached the roped off, circular staircase.
    The two guards standing before it stepped aside, pulled back the rope, and opened the wooden door. Caleb entered, followed by the group, and soon they were all descending, lower and lower beneath the cloisters.
    They entered a huge, subterranean chamber, hundreds of feet long, wide and high. Unlike other times he had been here, the room was completely filled with the vampires of his coven. Caleb had never seen it so crowded. Usually, there were but a few dozen vampires lounging about. Now there seemed to be at least 1000 of his coven members, vampires he hadn’t seen in centuries, all filling the room, pacing and agitated, talking to each other in harsh tones.
    As Caleb and his entourage entered, the chaos seem to slowly focus on them. The chamber parted ways for them, and it slowly quieted. A hushed silence of anticipation spread.
    They knew were Caleb was headed. At the far end of the room was a raised dais, on which sat the Grand Council, a panel of seven judges. Their coven’s leadership. Usually the Council met in a side chamber, but on nights like tonight, when there was unprecedented crisis, they met in the large chamber.
    As Caleb suspected, there they were, sitting there, already glaring harshly down at him. Caleb could not remember a single time in thousands of years when their expression held anything but judgment. He suspected that tonight would be the worst of all.
    These men were of the old guard, and over the centuries, Caleb had been feeling that they were no longer the right men to lead his coven. Their judgments were archaic, of another era. They were too rigid, too uncompromising. Of course, they claimed their rigidity is precisely what had kept their coven alive for so many thousands of years. But Caleb was, of late, feeling just the opposite. Their rigid attitude, he felt, was actually endangering their coven in these quickly shifting times.
    Caleb already suspected what they would say in response to his report. To take no action. To wait it out. To not get involved. Their standard method of action. Always conservative, safe, patient. Always against change.
    They would be especially angry with him this time, because he had proved them wrong. Weeks ago, Caleb had insisted that the Sword existed, and that Caitlin could lead them to it. They had shot him down, had insisted that such a Sword was just a fable, a child’s tale. Now, clearly, he was right. This is probably why these thousands of vampires hushed at the sight of him, afforded him such respect. And probably why these judges looked even more harsh than usual.
    The room was now absolutely still as Caleb stopped before the panel, just ten feet away. They glared down in silence.
    Caleb knew he should bow down in reverence. But something inside him just didn’t feel like it anymore. He owed these people nothing. They had cast him out, and he was not there to ask for anything. He was there to save them. Whether they deserved it or not.
    Their expressions