Blood War (Book 1, the Halfblood Chronicles)

37.1 | We All Bleed Red

Ren stood like a pillar of stone, camouflaging himself against the wall of the gym facility. In front of him, the Ministers had attempted to recreate their usual assembly layout using the school's fold-up chairs. Purists on the left, equalists on the right, and Prime Minister Rostova at the helm.

Standing behind her was interim High Keeper Hanna Steele, who'd been appointed to act as the Vigil's representative sometime during the past thirty-six hours. Next to her were the two Fellowship agents who'd appeared on Headmaster Kovachev's doorstep, outraged by the supernatural disaster at the cemetery.

The human men never strayed far from one another. That fact, in addition to the crossed arms and sliding glances—mostly aimed at the keepers guarding the room's perimeter—were proof of their discomfort and distrust in the presence of Daemonstri.

When one of the agents made eye contact with him, Ren curled his lip back, revealing razor-sharp fangs. The human went pale, gaping, and Ren could've sworn he heard a gulp even from across the gym. The man elbowed his friend, and Ren snapped his fangs back, training a blank expression at the back of Nika's head.

The Ministry had been interviewing Nika for a while now, and it was exactly as expected. While Ren, Luiza, Jade, and even Misha, had been treated with as much sympathy as the body of Serafi governors could conjure, Nika was being grilled, goaded, and growled at.

Sweeping over the Serafi elite, Ren noted that only two were absent—Matthias Mirza, who'd been too grieved by his son's tragic death to attend the meeting, and Nika's father, who'd encountered complications while traveling home from Romania.

More surprising, though, was who occupied the seat of the late Minister Francesca Laguna. During the upheaval of the past week, the Ministry had elected Boris Daskalov, probably the most well-known and ruthless purist politician out there. The childless Laguna had no heir, and Daskalov, her distant relative, had been eagerly welcomed.

As Ren studied him now—silently mocking the crisp, white suit and yellow tie—he saw an unmistakable screen of supercilious disgust and contempt. And Daskalov's eyes were ever-fixed on Nika. Though Ren had his arms clasped behind his back, he curled his fingers into tight fists.

But Nika, to her credit, remained calm throughout the interview. Was it a side effect of the painkillers, or was she bravely taking the heat?

After she answered the last question, Prime Minister Rostova said, "You can expect to be summoned to headquarters in the near future, Miss Dimitrovich. In case there are developments."

Ren had no idea what developments she was referring to, but he ventured they wouldn't be good. Nika merely nodded, then rose from the witness chair and made her way to the bleachers lining the wall, where she sat beside Lu. He tracked every movement. Her injuries were rapidly healing, but he still didn't think it was wise for her to be out of bed yet.

Rostova cleared her throat, yanking Ren's attention back to the assembly meeting.

"Miss Steele, please debrief us on the whereabouts of the prisoners."

The interim High Keeper stepped forward. "The Serafi who calls herself Tatiana has been successfully transported to a Vigil prison south of headquarters. Extra precautions have been made to ensure that she stays there for a long time. We've already had a hedgewitch ward the cell so she's unable to use magic as a means of escape or any additional harm. Her official interrogation begins tomorrow, and I will personally keep the Ministry updated on our progress."

Rostova pursed her thin lips as Steele continued, "Our real concern is the Volkari. As was already discussed, a few surviving wolves were arrested at the site. But their friends attacked the transport vehicle on the way to the prison."