We never learned how it worked exactly, and I guess it no longer matters because the Vessel is gone. But we learned that the Vessel was powered by the souls of mages. It fed on Ancient Magic and used that to do its bidding for that evil vampire.
How many lives were taken by him for his cause? In the time I’ve been here, I’ve seen two mages dead, and heard about at least a dozen others in recent years. Of course, nobody knows about that either. Any time a student goes missing, it’s written off as if they were troubled and ran away, or took their own life, or simply disappeared. For whatever reason, none of the families of the students who are lost have made much of a fuss. Did they just accept what they were told? Or did they have an inkling, but didn’t feel the risk was worth it? Was being part of the Society so important that they could overlook even that?
The thought gives me the chills. Not the good kind, either. How many people have died for Damon’s quest? Even one is too many, and there are far more than that. If nothing else comes out of what we did, at least the killings will stop.
Chapter Eight
JOELY
Angus and I join our friends in the Great Hall. An air of excitement permeates the gathering and it's clear from the murmurs and whispers that no one knows what's going on. Roz slides up next to me and loops her arm through mine pulling me away from Angus. He doesn't let me go far; he holds my hand and forces Roz to stay close.
“So what was that all about?” Roz says.
I don't look at her, I can’t. I don’t want to lie to my friend. “What do you mean? What was what about?”
She shoves her hand onto her hip. “Really? You’re going to pretend that you didn't have a complete freak out when Little Allbright showed up?”
I don't know what to say. I shouldn’t be surprised that of all people, Roz is the one who noticed. She stares at me, and she looks like she's about to ask me again when Van appears at the top of the stairs and claps his hands. The music stops and all eyes turn toward the staircase.
Van’s all business. “If I could have your attention, please? There is an announcement for the members.”
He steps aside as a parade of alumni march across the landing and head down the stairs. They don't join the crowd in the Great Hall, instead they stay on the staircase, filing in, shoulder-to-shoulder, three or four people per stair. I don't know any of the alumni, though I recognize a few faces from the last Society party, I can’t place anyone with their family or remember any of their names. They are just a bunch of random faces, men and women dressed for the holidays, smiling down at the rest of us.
The people on the stairs separate into two columns, opening a space in the center of the staircase, making room for someone coming to the front. I watch in horror as Porter Allbright steps onto the bottom stair and smiles at the crowd. He spots me instantly, his gaze lingering on mine a second longer than I think is normal, and I wonder if he was upstairs scanning for me before he made his big entrance.
Allbright looks like any other dad here. He’s an average older gentleman with dark hair, graying at the temples. He’s got a bit of a paunch but a broad chest that makes him look strong instead of doughy. He smiles and seems genuine and warm. You’d never know that he was capable of attacking someone. You’d never know that a few weeks ago that man was unconscious in the snow after I crushed his skull with a rock.
On the other side of Angus, Quinn tugs on Sebastian's hand and the two of them smile. They're beaming with pride at their father. I wonder if they know what is going on, but then I decide I don't really care. It doesn't matter. They don’t matter. Or at least that’s what I try to tell myself.
They shouldn’t matter so much to me, but they do. I don’t know either of them very well, but I’ve spent time with Sebastian, and Quinn seems sweet. They don’t deserve to have their lives ruined by what their father did. What our fathers did.
Quinn glances over her shoulder at me and smiles. I know she's exactly my age. We were born on the exact same day, in the exact same maternity ward, our clueless mothers with no idea their babies were about to be stolen. Quinn seems so young and innocent compared to me. I feel like I've seen enough evil for several lifetimes.
As if sensing my tension, Angus starts squeezing my hand, looping his index finger through mine and running his hand along the length of mine, circling my wrist and then moving back down to my fingertips. It makes me smile. I loop my index finger around his and tug gently, the silent communication we’ve established that means I want him to stay with me. I love his little hand language he uses with me. It's especially comforting right now when I can't let even the slightest bit of my true feelings show.
Porter Allbright addresses the crowd. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice and over the holiday, too. I apologize for disrupting your time with your families, but I’m afraid I have some troubling news that cannot wait. My colleagues
