The main hall was exactly as intimidating as I remembered.
High vaulted ceilings that seemed to swallow sound, stone walls that had witnessed decades of vampire politics.
Seven figures sat in a semicircle, their faces hidden in the shadows cast by flickering torches.
Because apparently, even in the twenty-first century, vampires couldn't resist the dramatic lighting.
Some traditions never died, unlike the rest of us.
Elena gestured for Scott and me to step forward into the center of the circle.
I could feel their eyes on us, assessing, judging, probably already deciding whether we were worth keeping alive after whatever news we were about to deliver.
The moment we stepped into the light, a low chuckle echoed from one of the council members. The sound made my skin crawl because I recognized the amusement in it, the kind that came at someone else's expense.
"Well, well," came a gravelly voice from the left side of the semicircle. "The Marauder has returned to us."
