Blood Freed (Vampire-Cursed #4)

19. Chapter 19

19

Chapter 19

Soren

T he Blood Assembly chamber stretches above me, its high ceiling lost in shadows. Ancient banners hang between marble columns, each bearing the crests of vampire clans that have existed for millennia. The tiered seats rise like an amphitheater, filled with the most powerful vampires in existence.

I stand before them, Maxwell’s letter clutched in my hand. The parchment feels fragile, like my maker’s final words might crumble at any moment. My voice stays steady as I read his confession about our bloodline’s curse, about Lucien’s blackmail, about the blood facilities.

There’s silence as I finish reading.

“These are very serious allegations, Lord Daire,” Arabella Ravenscroft, our Grand Elder, addresses me, shooting a quick look at Marlowe.

“Yes,” I acknowledge. “But there’s a whole lot more where that came from.”

“This is clearly a fabrication,” Lucien’s voice cuts through the murmurs. He rises from his seat, shadows gathering around him. “A desperate attempt by a traitor to smear his maker’s memory.”

“It’s the truth.” I hold the letter higher. “Maxwell’s own words—”

“Let me see.” The Grand Elder extends a hand. I step forward, reaching up to hold it to where she’s seated on a raised podium.

Her brows pull together as she looks down at the pages. For an eternity, she says nothing. And then she looks at me. “Is this a joke?”

“What?” I frown, confused.

“I have had numerous dealings with Maxwell Kern,” she says, thrusting the pages back at me. “This is not his handwriting.”

“Of course it is,” I say sharply, then soften my tone. “I assure you, Grand Elder, this letter was held in safekeeping by my sister, who got it directly from our maker himself.”

“Look closer, Daire,” she says coldly.

I stare at the pages she’s just returned to me. Maxwell’s elegant script has been replaced by awkward, blockish text.

What the fuck?

This isn’t the letter I just handed to her moments ago.

Across the room, Lucien leans back in his seat, smirking. “An amateur forgery, I imagine,” he tuts. “How disappointing.”

Marcus steps forward from his position near the wall. “The Council should investigate these claims. If there’s any possibility—”

“Are you suggesting we waste resources investigating obvious lies?” Lucien’s gaze fixes on Marcus. “Perhaps you share some of Soren’s…questionable loyalties?”

I watch Marcus’s jaw clench, but he stays silent. The threat in Lucien’s words hangs heavy in the air.

I straighten my shoulders, pushing aside my confusion about the letter. “Regardless of this document’s authenticity, you cannot deny the spread of the Bloodbane among us. How many of your own clan members are afflicted, Lucien? How many have you forced into silence through blackmail?”

Murmurs ripple through the chamber. Several of the older Council members shift uncomfortably in their seats.

“Our entire power structure is compromised,” I continue, my voice carrying to every corner. “Lucien uses the shame of the Bloodbane to control those affected. I’ve seen the witch blood facilities firsthand – not as their orchestrator, but as someone coerced into carrying out his plans. The facility uncovered by the witch covens was not the only one. There are many.”

Alaric Stone shifts in his seat, raising a hand to draw attention. His face is creased with concern. “These accusations about Bloodbane…how widespread do you claim this affliction to be?”

“Ask your own clan members,” I say. “Those who suddenly ‘retired’ from public duties. Those who mysteriously disappeared. How many of them showed symptoms before vanishing?”

More whispers. I see recognition in several faces – they’ve witnessed exactly what I’m describing.

“This is absurd,” Lucien cuts in, rising again. “Need I remind the Council that Soren himself confessed to running these facilities? Now he attempts to pin his crimes on me? Which version should we believe?”

“Yes, I confessed.” I meet his gaze steadily. “Under duress, after you threatened both my maker and an innocent witch. I chose to protect them by taking the blame. But Maxwell is dead now, and I won’t let his murder – or your manipulation of our people – go unanswered.”

Marcus steps forward again, his stance challenging as he faces Lucien. “I’ve been gathering evidence of suspicious activities within your clan for months. Missing witches, unexplained transfers of funds, mysterious disappearances of vampires who showed early signs of the Bloodbane.”

“As have I.” Selene Nightshade rises gracefully from her seat, her violet eyes as sharp as her brother’s. “The financial records show a pattern. Large sums moving through shell companies, properties purchased under false names – all traced back to your associates, Lucien. The same properties where witches later vanished.”

I watch Lucien’s face tighten almost imperceptibly. He wasn’t expecting this coordinated attack.

“Furthermore,” Elias Thorne’s calm voice cuts through the tension as he rises from his seat, “my research division has documented irregularities in blood consumption patterns within Clan Umbra. Their reported use of human blood has decreased significantly, yet they show no signs of weakness. The logical conclusion is an alternative blood source.”

“And you’re saying that it’s witch blood?” Arabella looks thoughtful.

“That is our assumption, yes, Grand Elder.” Elias nods his head.

I feel a shift in the chamber’s energy as several younger Council members pay attention, their expressions thoughtful rather than dismissive. One of them, barely a century old, actually nods in agreement.

“These claims warrant investigation,” another says, earning a death glare from Lucien.

A third stands, her voice clear despite her obvious nervousness. “We’ve all heard rumors about the Bloodbane spreading more quickly. If there’s any truth to this, we need to know.”

Victor Valmont, another of the Council’s senior elders, clears his throat. “We can’t make accusations against a respected elder based on assumptions and vague paper trails,” he calls out. “Let us remember that we are here today to determine the guilt…or innocence of Soren Daire,” he looks around coldly, “who has already confessed to being behind all of these crimes.”

“You have a point, Lord Valmont,” Arabella agrees.

I watch as Marcus steps forward again, his shoulders squared. “The evidence against Lucien is compelling. We cannot ignore—”

“Careful, Nightshade.” Lucien’s voice drops to a silky whisper. “Your sister’s position on this Council isn’t as secure as you might think. And I hear she’s been spending quite a bit of time with…questionable elements.”

Marcus freezes. The threat to Selene hangs in the air like poison.

“Unless you have proof of that allegation, I suggest you reconsider that statement, Marlowe,” Selene snaps.

“Proof?” Lucien scoffs. “You mean like the proof you have against me?”

“Lady Nightshade’s financial evidence is circumstantial at best,” Valmont interjects. “And Lord Thorne’s blood consumption data could be explained by numerous factors.”

“Indeed,” Isabella Montague’s cool voice joins in. “These accusations against Lord Marlowe seem designed to deflect from Soren’s own admitted guilt.” She turns her amber eyes to Lucien. “You have my full support in this matter. Lord Daire is on trial today, not you.”

My gut twists as I watch the Council’s mood shift. Even Alaric, who I’d hoped might speak up again, simply sits back in his chair, his expression carefully neutral.

One by one, the voices of support fall silent. I see the fear in their eyes – fear of exposure, fear of their own secrets coming to light. Doubt that any of this is even true. The Bloodbane is a shame few would risk having revealed.

Only Selene and Elias still stand with Marcus, along with a handful of younger Council members. But their voices are drowned out by the tide of agreement with Lucien’s version of events.

“The evidence suggests Maxwell Kern took his own life, troubled by his progeny’s betrayal,” Valmont declares. “And these wild accusations against Lord Marlowe are nothing but desperate attempts to avoid justice.”

The chamber fills with murmurs of agreement. I catch glimpses of faces I know harbor the same affliction I do, but they turn away, unwilling to risk exposure.

They’re afraid.

I watch as Arabella rises, her silver hair gleaming. The verdict I knew was coming still sucks the wind from me.

“Soren Daire, you have confessed to crimes against both vampire and witch kind. The operation of blood farming facilities represents a grave threat to the peace we’ve maintained for centuries.” Her voice echoes off the marble columns. “Moreover, by defying your Maker’s Bond, you broke one of the most fundamental laws of our kind…and very likely caused your maker to take his own life.”

“No!” I object. They can say what they like about me, but this is one thing I can’t accept. “No, I never—”

“The Assembly finds you guilty, Lord Daire,” she interrupts me. “You are sentenced to the Sun Trail at dawn tomorrow.”

Lucien’s satisfaction radiates across the chamber. His web of influence is complete – I see it now in every averted gaze, every tense shoulder. Even those who suspect the truth about the Bloodbane’s spread through their ranks would rather see me die than risk exposure.

“Furthermore,” Arabella continues, “Lord Marlowe will oversee the implementation of new security measures to prevent such operations from occurring again.”

The irony would be laughable if it weren’t so devastating. They’re handing even more power to the architect of everything they claim to oppose.

Marcus catches my eye from across the chamber. My unexpected ally. His slight nod tells me he won’t give up the fight, even after I’m gone. He’ll keep gathering evidence, keep building resistance. But we both know it won’t be enough.

Not in time to save me.

I’ll just have to take consolation in the knowledge that they’ll continue the fight after I’m gone.

“Until dawn,” Arabella pronounces, “you will be held under guard. Do you have any final words for this Council?”

I look around the chamber one last time at the faces of those who’ve chosen fear over truth. “Only that cowardice breeds corruption. And you’ve chosen both.”

The guards step forward to escort me out. As I turn, I catch Lucien’s smirk. He’s won this round – strengthened his position while eliminating a threat. But his victory has revealed just how deep his influence runs.

The Sun Trail awaits at dawn. Unless something changes dramatically in the next few hours, I’ll face it alone.