Salem ran along the hall of his Headquarters, passing Sentinel and Akrhyn who jumped out of his way and called after him in confusion. He called for Garrick, the Prime Castor of the Crimson Cast. He could not call for Cord—if he thought Tegan was in danger, the Ancients only knew where he would take her this time and, more importantly, if he would bring her back.
Salem barely noticed that he passed Michael as he ran up the stairs that led to the sleeping quarters. As he reached the room his mother had lived in when she was still a resident of the Headquarters, he schooled his panic and calmly knocked on her door. He noticed his hand was shaking, and he clenched his fist to exert control. He could detect no sound from inside the room. He hesitated for a moment before walking hurriedly over to Tegan’s room. Again, he knocked and felt calmer when he heard movement inside.
Tegan opened the door, a scowl on her face, which quickly cleared when she saw that it was Salem. “Principal?”
“Tegan, may I come in?” Salem asked as he tried to look over her shoulder into the room beyond.
“Are you going to tell me the same fantasies as your mother?” Tegan’s scowl was back.
“She’s been here?” Salem asked despondently.
“For a moment. I did not want to hear hervisions.” Tegan stood back and let Salem into the room.
“She told you all of it?”
“No. I told her I did not want to listen to her when she called my father a ‘filthy leech.’”
“I am sorry, Tegan, I do not think my mother is feeling herself.”
“I am not interested in who she is feeling!” Tegan snapped angrily. “My father is a good and noble Akrhyn. Who does she think she is to be calling him vile and...and other names?”
“I mean she is unwell,” Salem clarified gently. “Leonid is a noble Vampyre, and I apologise for my mother’s disrespect.” Salem was astounded that the words came easily and he was able to say them without choking.
“She is ill?” Tegan asked quietly. “I am sorry, Principal, I did not know.”
“No, neither did I until today.” Salem looked at the door as it was knocked, and he opened it. Marcus and Garrick stood and came in. All three turned to Tegan, and she watched them warily.
“Is my father found?” Tegan clasped her hands together to stop them from trembling.
“No word, Elite Sentinel.” Garrick’s smile was kind. “I am here for another matter.”
“What now?” Tegan sighed as she sat on the edge of her bed. “Is there never to be any peace and quiet here?”
“Tegan, your grandmother believes she has been sent here by Arflyn,” Salem began before turning to look at Marcus helplessly.
“She claimed she is the Priestess.” Tegan picked at her blanket cover. “There is a crazy old raven in our trees at home that acts more like a cat.” Tegan glanced up at them and smiled briefly. “It’s funny to watch, but because it believes it is a cat, and acts like a cat, it does not make it a cat.”
“That’s an interesting visual,” Marcus mused.
“From talking to my mother this afternoon,” Salem resumed speaking, “I think she believes you may be destined to carry a son.”
Tegan looked at him quizzically. “Well, she has a fifty-fifty chance of being right for any pregnancy.”
“She believes that Arflyn told her you would be having that son, soon.” Salem watched her carefully.
“No.”
“I know, you are too young,” Salem tried again.
“No.” Tegan stood. “I am not the female.”
“You know what we suspect?” Marcus asked her softly.
“You think she has been influenced by the Drakhyn. And that they are making her think I am the female who will bear their children,” Tegan said flatly.
“Yes,” Marcus confirmed. “Although you got there a hell of a lot quicker than I did,” he told her with respect.
“I have the Principal Elder, his Second and a Prime Castor in my bedroom,” Tegan snorted. “This is not one of Sloane’s punchlines.”