Dark Heirloom (An Ema Marx Novel Book 1) by J.D. Brown

ordinary?
    “No, but I will risk the crown on the improbable chance that she is extraordinary. Royalty is a prize anyone can have, and I have never failed you that. This girl, on the other hand, is a rare commodity. She could be of great value.”
    My frustrations sprang forth as a beastly roar, and I punched the mirror. A shatter echoed through the room as large cracks rippled from the center of the glass to the edges, and then froze in a fraction of a second. The mirror did not crumble as I’d hoped, but stood intact, the broken pieces distorting my face.
    “It appears I have failed to teach you patience,” came the voice.
    Patience is the reason you are locked in my consciousness.
    “Patience is a vampyre’s virtue, and the reason I am not dead.”
    I wished he were dead.
    The voice growled at my bitter thought, but he could do nothing more than speak.
    “You will observe her only.”
    Yes, My Lord.
    I spat into the basin, hating myself.
    The sun sank below the horizon, signaling the start of my workday. He might not care about the throne, but I certainly did, and I had the right and responsibility to govern my people well. I would not yield and risk the well-being of my clansmen for him and his new plaything.
    At least the rat was being watched. Jesu had taken a rather strong interest in her, and insisted that she room with him. I expected he would. It was his premonition, it was only natural for him to be curious. He would make good on his last word to our mother, of that I was certain, and I could observe the girl through my brother. The voice did not openly object to that.
    Dematerializing my body, I sank into the floorboards and passed into the room below. Hovering two meters above the rug in my office, I tightened until I became solid again, then landed lightly on my feet.
    I sat on the leather armchair behind my desk as Maria entered the room with a glass of B-Positive and a black folder. She placed both on my desk.
    “Thank you, Maria.” I lifted the glass to my lips and took a long sip while opening the folder and reading my agenda for the day. “Any phone calls?”
    “Yes, sir. The head of the R.E.D. called.”
    “Which branch?”
    “America, My Lord.”
    I took another sip. “Wanting their report on the girl, no doubt.”
    “Yes, My Lord. They know you are a busy man, but they worry, and it is not like you to fall behind in your work. Is everything well?”
    I glanced to the side and wet my lips. I needed to learn to hide my stress better, especially if I was going to keep my crown. Of course, I was not overly surprised that Maria noticed my unease. As my third-in-command, and most trusted colleague, she was like a mother to me and knew me extremely well.
    The phone on my desk rang before I could answer her. I picked up the receiver. “This is the head speaking.”
    “Your Majesty.”
    “Naamah, my friend, what’s the news?” As my second-in-command, Naamah called just after dusk and right before dawn with updates.
    “Your Grace, there has been more talk of Victor recruiting men to lead in a revolt against us.” Naamah’s voice crackled into the phone.
    I sighed. “There is nothing I can do about talk, Naamah. We need proof.”
    “We have reason to believe he is planning a revolution, sir.”
    “What reason?”
    “A new clan has given birth under the name of an old enemy, with branches in Madrid, Berlin, and, now, Helsinki. The Spanish and German R.E.D. officials investigated and reported Victor as their leader. We have every reason to believe he is leading the Helsinki branch as well, and could be tied into the rebel group.”
    “Which clan name did they take?”
    “The Akkadians, sir.”
    My back stiffened. Now I understood why the Council suspected Victor. He was one of few vampyres left who remembered who the Akkadians were.
    “Ah, the Akkadians.” The voice in my head conjured images of battles, fought alongside a much younger version of Victor, in ancient Babylonia.
    Not