Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97: A Case Without a Head

The high courthouse stood proud and old. A distant ring could be heard from the tower bell nearby as it echoed over the land.

It was nine in the morning and in one of the corridors, Lucian Slater walked with his boots clicking against the polished floor. He looked refined as ever in his tailored black coat, his dark hair combed back, leaving nothing to distract from the his darkened gaze.

His footsteps finally came to a stop when he reached a pair of heavy oak doors.

"Lucian Slater. Are you here for disciplinary action? I heard you killed a human." It was Minister Maverick Griswold, who wore a sly smile.

"You heard it wrong," Lucian regarded the minister.

"Then you deny it?" Griswold pressed, raising his eyebrows at the denial.

"I meant you got the number wrong. It wasn’t one but twenty-one of them," Lucian replied while he glanced at his watch as if the minister was wasting his time.

"You should be careful," Griswold said with a chuckle. "Seats in this court have a way of remaining occupied. Especially when someone reaches for them too eagerly."

Not a flicker crossed Lucian’s expression. He then remarked,

"Then I suppose it will be rather embarrassing for whoever discovers they have been sitting in it without merit." After a pause, he continued, "But you needn’t concern yourself with my seat, Minister Griswold. I’m far more curious about yours. It seems awfully unstable lately with the missing reports on your investigations and the unfortunate habit you have of losing track of humans under your supervision."

He tilted his head slightly. "I would hate for anyone to think you were... distracted."

Griswold’s smile thinned at once. He murmured, "I didn’t know you took interest in my affairs."

"Hardly. The ministers are like bored housewives who are fond of rumours and remarkably poor at verifying them," Lucian replied with his voice detached.

Before Griswold could form a retort, the heavy oak doors swung open. Minister Gaile stepped out, bowing briefly to the older man out of formality before turning his attention to Lucian.

"It is done," Gaile informed Lucian in a low voice. After a brief hesitation, he added, "There is a small favour I must ask of you. There’s a report filed early this morning, but Woodsen has broken his leg to visit..."

Lucian followed Minister Gaile down the corridor, leaving Griswold standing alone with a tight face.

The minister’s jaw tightened at the audacity of the younger pureblooded vampire. He muttered under his breath,

"Watch your back, Lucian Slater. Being the Lord’s son does not give you licence to speak to me in such a manner."

From farther down the corridor, another minister who had observed the exchange in silence arrived there in time to catch Griswold mutter and he advised,

"I wouldn’t trouble myself with such thoughts, Maverick. It is unwise to meddle with the Slaters. Especially the younger one."

Griswold scoffed. He responded clicking his tongue, "I know better than to lock horns with Lord Azriel. I am not a fool. But his son needs to be reminded of his place. Youth has made him arrogant and people like him need to be taught to bow to his superiors."

"You don’t know him well, do you?" The other minister asked with a chuckle.

"He is younger than half this court. He should learn respect," Griswold replied with a superior air.

"I remember him as a boy," the other minister replied quietly. "And the higher-ups learned very early not to underestimate him. There were too many kills," he sighed.

"A boy?" Griswold said with a dismissive laugh. "He would have learned if someone threw him in the dungeon."

"He was sent to the dungeon," the minister answered with a faint frown crossing his face as he recollected a memory. "But I don’t think you would agree that it made any difference. From what I heard, his mother’s death caused his heart to corrupt."

Griswold straightened his coat, irritation flashing across his face. He answered curtly, "I do not fear him." Then changing the subject, he asked, "I thought today was your day off. What are you doing here?"

"Delivering documents personally but I should head home. My wife insists on being taken to the theatre. See you, Maverick," the man gave a nod before walking away.

Griswold clicked his tongue in annoyance as his wife was dead. His thoughts then drifted to the young woman he had met at Lord Azriel’s elder son’s celebration. What was her name again? He searched his memory before murmuring.

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