Twice Bitten (Chicagoland Vampires #3)(59)
Author: Chloe Neill

I dropped my gaze to the floor, trying to take in what he’d said, trying to keep my breath from becoming so shallow that I passed out in the church. Merit? Ethan silently asked, but I shook my head. This needed processing before it needed debate. Before I’d be ready for discussing it . . . if I ever would be ready to discuss it.

The crowd had quieted again, the weight of the information Gabriel had shared enough to make them contemplative, to make them seriously consider the things he was going to ask them.

"You will face death," he told them. "Tony’s death, and possibly others’, if we stay. But we will face death if we go, as well. The world is a harsh place. We know that. We live by its code – a different code from vampires or humankind – but our code, just the same. That’s the decision you must make tonight." He held up his hands. "Let the discussion begin."

"Discussion" was a nice word for what commenced. As soon as Gabriel opened the floor to debate, most of the shifters who’d already bellowed at Gabriel flipped off the crowd and walked out. That prompted the remaining two hundred shifters to stand and yell at the deserters. Chaos, indeed.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, but saluted the walk-outs.

"Let them go," he said into the microphone. "They aren’t obliged to stay. None of you are required to stay. But whether you walk our or you stay and participate, you will abide by the decision made here." It was clear by the tone of his voice and the menace in his eyes that he wasn’t making a request. He was issuing an order, reminding the Packs of their obligations. Those who chose to ignore those obligations did so at their own risk. The remaining shifters chastened, the debate over their future began in earnest. A microphone had been placed in the middle of the church’s center aisle for the shifters’ use. I wasn’t crazy about the location – it gave anyone who stepped up to the mic a direct shot at Gabriel – but there wasn’t much help for it. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be proactive. Without asking for Ethan’s permission – I’d seen the fear in his eyes after I’d helped Berna beside the bar – I left my post at his side and walked to the front of the church, then stood directly in front of the podium. Bullets – and shifters – who wanted a shot at Gabriel would have to go through me first.

Good thought, Ethan silently complimented, but a heads-up would have been nice.

Better to ask forgiveness than permission, I reminded him.

Although the shifters were a rainbow of shape, size, and skin tone, the views they espoused at the microphone fell into two categories. Half were pissed at the thought of having to leave their homes and businesses for Aurora. They mostly yelled at us, screamed at Gabriel, made rude gestures. The other half wanted nothing to do with vampires or vampire politics, and they were convinced the threat to their well-being as a society was vampire in origin.

They also mostly yelled at us, screamed at Gabriel, and made rude gestures.

After long minutes of vitriolic monologues, the final speaker reached the microphone.

He was tall and burly, a giant black leather vest over his barrel chest. He wore a bandanna on his head, and his long beard had been bundled into consecutive bands. After waiting patiently for his turn to speak, he stepped up to the mic, then gestured toward Gabriel.

"You know me, sir. I ain’t one with words or talk. You know I work hard, follow the rules, do right by my family."

I couldn’t see Gabriel’s face, but given the soft earnestness in this big man’s voice, I imagined he nodded in understanding.

"I don’t see the future, so I don’t know about war. I tend to stick to my kind, and I don’t know much about vampires or the like. I don’t know what’s coming down the road, what kind of things we’ll see when the dust kicks up, or when it settles again. Frankly, I don’t know exactly why we’re here, or why we think we need to run." He swallowed thickly. "But I’ve lived among humans for many, many moons.

I’ve been in human wars and fought beside ’em when I thought it necessary. They’ve stood up to protect me and mine.

"I also heard talk these vamps did right by us. And here they are again, and they step up to protect you like they’re willing to take any danger comin’ your way." He half shrugged modestly. "Politics and such ain’t my thing, but I know what’s right. They step forward, but we don’t?" He shook his head. "I don’t mean disrespect to you or your kin, but that ain’t right. It just ain’t." He nodded at me, this man in the leather vest, then turned and walked humbly back to his pew in the middle of the church. He slid inside, then sat down, blinking as he waited for whatever came next.

My heart ached with emotion. I couldn’t very well leave my post, but I watched him until he made eye contact, then offered a nod. He nodded back, two would-be foes acknowledging the virtue of the other.

Life as a vampire wasn’t always what I expected it to be.

"As is our way," Gabriel said into the silence of the chapel, "in the pews before you are two chits. One black, one white. Black, we return home to the sanctity of the Seven Woods. White, we stay. We risk the fight – whatever fight that might be. Place your vote in the box as it’s passed. If you have a proxy, you may cast those votes, as well. Cast your ballots according to your conscience," he said.

Jason stepped down from the platform, a wooden box in his hands. He carried it to the back of the chapel, then handed it to the last man in the last row. It took eighteen minutes for the vote to be cast – eighteen nerve-wracking minutes, during which most every shifter in the room gave me alternatingly curious and grave looks. I had to work not to shuffle uncomfortably under the weight of their collective stares. When the box had traversed the chapel, Jason hauled it back to the front of the room, and then the counting began. A long board, not unlike the marker for a cribbage game, was placed on the table where the box had rested. As each marble-shaped chit was pulled from the box, it was placed upon the holder. Black, then white, then black, then three whites, then six blacks, and so on. Although my new friend had spoken eloquently, the shifters hadn’t been completely convinced. Whatever the vote, it wouldn’t be unanimous.

After a few minutes of counting, Gabriel stepped down off the platform, then beside me, moving closer to the crowd. He was symbolically rejoining them, committing to abide by their decision, whatever it might be.

Gabriel held up a closed fist. "The final chit. The deciding chit." He opened his palm. The marble was white. They were staying.

For a full five seconds, there was silence.

And then chaos broke out.

We’d been right, unfortunately. Although the men in the hallway might have had it in for Gabriel, they weren’t the only ones who did. And they hadn’t cared about the vote – they’d planned to affect the balance of power afterward.