Darkness Rising (Dark Angels 2)

“Then what is?”

She studied me in a way that had fear curling through my limbs. This wasn’t about the need to stop a killer finding more victims. This was about me.

And her next words confirmed that. “There are some on the high council who think it would be better for us all if you were dead. I am trying to convince them that you might be useful for more than just finding the keys.”

I swallowed heavily. “So this is a test?”

“And you had better pass if you value your life.”

Chapter Two

“IF THEY KILL ME,” I SAID EVENTUALLY, MY throat so dry it felt like the words were being scraped out, “they won’t ever find the keys.”

“That,” she said coolly, “is precisely the point.”

“But—” I paused, my thoughts filled with panic and going a dozen different ways. “I thought the reason the council recruited me in the first place was to find the keys so that they could use them?”

“It was. It is.”

The rhythm of her nails on the desk suddenly stopped, and something flickered in her eyes. Something dark and very deadly. A chill hit me and the sick sensation of fear ratcheted up several notches—though up until that point I hadn’t thought that was possible.

Because, in that brief instant, I’d seen death. Not my death—not yet, anyway. But someone else’s, someone who’d had the stupidity to cross her path.

“Only a very small fraction have decided it would be better to keep the keys unfound,” she continued. “Unfortunately, all voices on the council must be heard, and efforts to persuade them otherwise have so far proven ineffective. Which means it is up to you to prove your worth to them.”

I licked my lips and said, “So this councilor who’s dying—is it possible that one of the lesser members of the c

ouncil has decided he or she needs to be higher on the ladder?”

“It is always possible, but there are easier ways to do that.”

I was curious despite the fear twisting my insides. After all, it wasn’t often you got the chance to hear about the inner workings of the local vamp council. They were a secretive lot at the best of times. Hell, most people didn’t even know there was both a local council and the overall high council, situated in Melbourne. “Like how?”

Her shrug was oddly graceful. “There is always the blood challenge.”

“Which I’m gathering is a physical challenge of some sort?”

“Of some sort, yes.” This time, amusement touched not only her lips but also her eyes, and it was a fearsome sight. “The winner wins the right to drain the blood of the loser.”

“Killing them?”

“No. Under most circumstances, it merely weakens them.”

I wondered about the exception to that rule, but didn’t say anything. Instead I asked, “Yet vamps do kill one another to gain position on the hierarchical ladder, do they not?”

“Of course. But that is different.”

I couldn’t actually see how, but then, vampires didn’t always think with human—or, in my case, nonhuman—sensibilities.

“So where are Boulanger and Alston on the hierarchical ladder?”

“It does not matter, as I doubt ascension is the cause.”

“Why? If both die, all those vampires below them automatically step up a couple of rungs, don’t they?”

“It is not that simple. There are levels rather than rungs. The kill and the killer must be acknowledged and confirmed before he or she can move up to the next classification.”

Which sounded a whole lot more formal and complicated than I’d expected. “It’s still something that should be investigated.”