by Rhys Lawless
“Would that be so bad?” I shouted back.
Winston didn’t react. He took deep breaths staring right at me, and I watched him.
“No,” he finally said with an exasperated breath. “It wouldn’t be bad,” he said.
I offered him my smile, and he gave me an eye roll in response. It wasn’t something we did, but I gave him a hug anyway. It looked like he needed it, and God knew I did too.
“Sorry to interrupt this soap-opera moment, but I think I’ve got something,” Troy said, turning around to look at both of us.
I jumped off the couch, and Winston pulled a chair next to Troy. Troy turned to the side and my TV switched on, reflecting his laptop screen.
“Right. There’s not a lot of Wilder Oakleys alive, so that hasn’t been an issue as much. I’ve only found one mention of a Wilder Oakley, and that was almost twenty years ago on a check,” Troy said.
“He must have used checks to pay for stuff. It was quite common back then,” Winston said.
“Absolutely,” Troy said. “However, his name wasn’t added in the payee or payer’s field. It was added in the reference field.”
Winston and I looked at each other.
“It was for a lot of money,” Troy added and pulled up a photo of the check.
Winston, who had decided to take a sip of his beer, turned to the TV and spat his beer, spraying the monitor with the drink.
“Half a million!” he exclaimed. “What the hell were they buying?”
“Him,” I said, staring at the zeros on the check and reading our father’s name over and over. “They were buying him.”
Troy glanced at me and asked me why.
“He was a healer, right? Who knows how big his power was and what they were hoping to get. Does it say who it’s from or to?”
Troy pointed at the TV and said, “The person who wrote the check just signed with an X. I tried to follow the account details on there, but it led to a dummy account.”
“Oh—well, it was worth the try anyway,” I said and patted Troy on the back.
“I didn’t say that was the end of the story. It might be a dummy account, but it belongs to someone. And no matter how much security they’ve put behind it, you can always trace it back to the owner. Especially if you can talk to the internet and even more so if you get the internet to talk back to you.”
The TV popped up with a different file and a name. Christian Marlowe. The transaction was marked sometime after my seventh birthday.
That name. That man. He seemed to haunt my every living moment. Wasn’t it enough he’d held us his prisoners since we were just kids? Wasn’t it enough he’d driven our mother insane with his lies and deception? What did he have to do with our father now? Why did everything lead back to him?
How much more could he steal from me? How much more could he take away? What was he even doing paying someone half a million pounds for my dad? To what end?
“Of course,” Winston mumbled.
“After this file.” Troy continued as if he hadn’t just revealed to us the name of a monster involved even deeper in our lives than we’d initially thought. “Any mention of Wilder Oakley seems non-existent. However, I have found communications and small funds transferred to different accounts linked with Marlowe that refer to WO. Now, it’s a long shot, but I thought maybe the two are linked.”
He pulled up more reports with Dad’s initials, and I stared at them but didn’t really pay attention to any. My mind was busy, the cogs turning, trying to figure out what our next step was. How were we going to find Dad? Was he even still alive?
Christian had been draining witches of their magic for years, only getting stronger and hungrier in the process. Surely if he had kept him prisoner, he would have already tried to drain him. Why was Dad still alive if that was the case? How had he survived all these years?
“Were you able to find out where he’s being kept?” I asked.
Troy flipped through different images and files without touching anything, but instead of watching the TV, I just stared at him, waiting for his answer.
“I think I’ve got something, but I’m not a hundred percent sure this is what it is,” he said and pulled up pictures of a mansion. “A lot seems to link back to this address.”
“Any idea who it belongs to?” Winston asked.
Troy smirked.
“Well, I’ve got a name, but…”
“But what?” Winston asked.
“It’s not a real name,” Troy said.
“How do you know?” I asked.
Troy pointed at the TV, which was now showing the front entrance of the extravagantly large house.
“This house belongs to Lord Moon of Londinium,” he said.
Either Troy was playing a joke on us or things were really fucked up in Dad’s case.
“It’s obvious it’s Christian,” Winston said. “He thinks he’s someone important, he’s a creature of the night—well, was, before he became a dhampir—and he thinks he runs London. He might have been around when it was called Londinium, so maybe that’s a nod to how old he is.”
Troy nodded but also shrugged. He was as clueless as we were about the subject.
“I’m not so sure. It all sounds… weird. Don’t you think?” I said.
“Weirder than witches being real, vampires hiding among witch hunters, familiars and mating being a thing, and demons crossing into our plane, determined to destroy our world?” Winston asked and Troy laughed.
“Who could have told us a year ago this would be our life, right?” Troy said.
“You’ve got the address, right?” I asked, and he confirmed back to me. “Let’s go check it out.”
Troy looked at me as if I’d suggested we go and kill some puppies, but Winston nodded at me in understanding.
“We can’t go breaking into someone’s house,” Troy said.
“Christian’s house,” Winston corrected.
“Whoever’s it is. It’s not right,” he insisted.
“Oh, but him keeping another human being prisoner for twenty years is?” I asked. “Besides, you’re not coming anyway.”
He frowned and leaned back, his mouth agape.
“You don’t tell me what to do. If I want to come, I’ll come,” he said.
“But you said you don’t want to come,” I said.
“Well, I changed my mind,” he shouted.
“Fine,” I shouted back.
“Fine,” Troy snapped.
Winston shook his head in disbelief, and Troy asked him what that was for.
“You’re acting like a married couple, you two. Get over yourselves.”
“Whatever,” Troy said and turned his attention back to his computer.
I stood up and looked at both of them.
“So? Are we going or what?” I asked.
“You go get ready. I need to see if Troy can find the guys,” Winston said.
Shit. The blades. With everything that had happened in the last five minutes, I’d forgotten why Winston had come to find me in the first place.
Troy frowned, but his hands appeared to instinctively hover over his keyboard. He probably hated the fact he was helping an ex-witch hunter find other ex-witch hunters, but I could tell he reveled in using his power and skills.
“Okay,” I said and retreated to my bedroom.
I opened up my closet and revealed the little red room behind the wooden paneling where I kept all the spells I’d started stocking since finding out I was a witch.
Eventually, I’d be able to cast spells, or so I hoped, so I preferred to be prepared than be caught unprepared in an emergency.
I put my spellbook on, the rosary Caleb had got for me and that could easily be tucked underneath a t-shirt. I loaded it up with spells, just in case my witch side decided to work, grabbed the hilt of my sword that sat on my nightstand, and put it in the pocket of my jacket.
Once I joined the guys in the living room, they were both standing by the door and waiting for me.
�
��Did you find them?” I asked.
Winston shook his head.
“There’s no trace of them,” Troy said. “No incoming or outgoing calls. No admittance into Emergencies. It doesn’t even look like anyone’s accessed the internet from their IPs.” Winston’s gaze dropped to his shoes.
“Where the fuck have they gone then?” I said. “Surely they’d have used something electronic to get somewhere.”
Troy shrugged and turned his attention to the front door. He put on his coat and then turned the handle to open it.
“I don’t know. It’s very strange indeed. I haven’t seen anything like this before,” he said.
We walked out, and Winston’s steps were slow and lifeless.
“Hey,” I told him, reaching for his shoulder. “We’ll find them and what happened to them. I promise.”
He attempted a smile, but it didn’t fool anyone, especially me.
“I’m just worried for them. What if the worst thing that could possibly happen has happened?” he said.
“Don’t think like that. They’re probably safe at a party we weren’t invited to,” I said.
“You don’t believe that,” Winston said.
“Does it matter? Is it better to think the worst has happened to them? How does that help them?” I asked.
“How are we going to help them?” he said.
“We’re going to look for them. Search high and low. Knock on every door. I promise you that. Let’s get this recon over and done with, and we’ll get on to the guys straight after,” I said.
Winston sighed and when the lift pinged and opened its door, he walked in right after Troy.
“Okay,” he said.
“Great. Now let’s go find our father,” I said, and a little tremble made my knees weak at the idea that I could be only hours from reuniting with Wilder Oakley, a man I didn’t remember as my father but who I desperately wanted to be my family again.
Twelve
Caleb
There was no time to waste. The longer I waited, the higher the likelihood Darius would do something to inflict pain on Easton. He was a sadistic motherfucker and could hold a grudge like a bitch. And he did.
Which was why, even though I was the one that called a meeting with him, he’d try to punish me for not being on time by hurting Easton.
Hew had tried to follow the vampire, but he wasn’t fast enough and didn’t have a sense of smell as acute as the wolves to turn out any results, so it had proved futile.
“I’m coming with you,” he said when he finally gave up trying to locate the vampire.
“No, you’re not,” I said. “Darius doesn’t do outsiders. He’s hardly tolerating me anymore now that I’m a witch. He won’t have you for sure.”
Hew smiled and placed his hands on his hips. “I’m flattered, but I’m still coming.”
“Okay, then do you want to prepare Easton’s eulogy and explain to Troy why he’s dead? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you come with me.”
“At least let me stay close by in case you need me.”
Darius would still be able to smell him from afar, and I couldn’t risk it in any which case. So there was no option but to go to him alone.
I was fine with that. I was prepared for that. Even if Hew wasn’t.
“I’m going to Darius. You should go and find the others and tell them what happened. I’ll meet you at Wade’s apartment at dawn.”
The night was getting darker and far more sinister than expected. The landlord of the human pub had started shouting at us as soon as the confusion of what had happened had worn off, and I’d had to intercept his emotions with calm and serenity, him and the rest of the punters, to be able to get back to our work without further interruptions. Hew fixed the door with magic, and we were now standing in the alley next to the bar that Hew had used to get in and out of his raven form.
“I don’t like leaving you on your own,” Hew said, his eyes creased with worry.
“I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself,” I said.
Hew let out a puff of air. “I know you can, but that doesn’t make it any easier. There’s a lot at stake here. You can’t fail. You can’t let them win.”
“I won’t.”
“Please be careful,” Hew said.
“Always,” I replied and gave him a hug to reassure him. I channeled some confidence into him for good measure so that when I left, he wasn’t inclined to follow and keep an eye on me.
I’d already made many mistakes tonight, the first one being trusting any vampire. I didn’t want to keep piling on more mistakes.
Walking away from Hew felt a little bit like saying goodbye when it shouldn’t have felt that way. I was going to see him in less than twelve hours. Him, Wade, and everyone else. And so was Easton.
There was no better way for your memories to haunt you than walking through old and familiar haunts. I ran off into the night and got lost in habits long forgotten. Thinking like a vampire.
The walk to Soho was a short one but loaded with emotions I no longer cared for. I passed by Xtasy, which had tried to rebuild since the massacre last month and had found that the LGBT community, both human and supernatural, was stronger than anyone had thought as it was now busier and livelier than ever, but still carried the remnants of the souls lost.
I passed the gay bar I’d first snuck into when I was still a teenager and where I’d done some uneasy things with men twice my age in an attempt to define my sexuality.
I passed the seedy bar where Jin and I had had hours of bliss having sex in their bathroom stalls on our numerous visits.
And, of course, I passed the vamp club that only ever extended invites to vampires of a certain caliber, one I’d been deemed worthy of only months after turning into one.
The sorrow made my eyes heavy and the exhilaration my heart pound. The cravings I’d once conquered in my head came back, and I felt the need to drink blood even though I hadn’t had any such feelings since Nora had saved me the first time around.
It was all too much, and my head pounded like a motherfucker. I’d never felt anything like this before.
I stopped in the middle of the semi-pedestrianized street and pressed my temples in a poor attempt to soothe the headache. Of course it didn’t work.
The voices, emotions, and thoughts of the passers-by suffocated me.
Does he like me or is he just using me for sex?
No one would really miss me, would they?
If I don’t deliver this project on time, I’m going to lose my house.
It was relentless and made me dizzy.
If those officers see me coming out of that door one more time, they’re going to arrest me.
A girl’s got to make a living any way she can.
What was wrong with me? What was happening and why? Some of the voices didn’t even belong to people I could sense around me.
“You all right, mate?” someone asked and placed their hand on my back.
I looked up to find Jin looking back at me with the sweetest smile he had ever worn, radiating like fucking sunlight, warming my hardened soul.
What—what was he doing here? How was he here? I had so many questions. And even though my mind was racing to get through them all, my tongue was tied, and I couldn’t articulate a single thing.
Beep beep.
I turned around and the voices died down, and I was left staring at a honking car and a very agitated cab driver behind the wheel.
He pressed his hand down on the horn and the deafening sound dominated the street until I got the strength to fully stand up and walk to the side of the road.
“Wanker,” the cabbie shouted at me through his half-open window and rushed past me.
As if he’d said the most revelatory thing I could have asked for, I suddenly knew what was happening to me, but I was still unclear on why.
I had full control of my power no matter how big it grew. Even when Avalis had shown me my full potential, I’d kept my confidenc
e and tamed the new limits of my empathy.
To have my empathy open up to an entire street all of a sudden and make me relive all the emotions I had fought hard to get over, and those of people present and past, was a beast of its own.
I stood next to the backstage door of the Prince Edward Theater and took deep breaths.
In order to face Darius, I had to be physically and mentally prepared for him. I couldn’t let him detect a weakness or both Easton and I would be toast.
Soho kept so many of my memories tight in its bosom it should have been no surprise it triggered me so much. But it did surprise me. I was not prepared for this. I’d been here when Xtasy had been attacked, and I’d been fine. I hadn’t had a panic attack.
It was because I’d been with Wade. And we’d both been too focused on the tragedy at the club and Wade’s problem.
Wade. Oh, how much I needed his arms around me and his lips locked with mine right that moment. What I wouldn’t have given to have his calming, soothing presence next to me, to give me the confidence and strength I needed.
But it wasn’t time to get all needy and weak. I had a job to do and someone to save. It was high time I confronted my past and found out what the hell was going on with the vampires and how Christian was involved.
I ducked into an alley behind the theater and walked to a dive that had no sign or much presence. In essence, you had to know it was there to find it, and I did. I’d spent most of my vampire years in and out of this place, helping the clan master, Cromwell, with whatever he’d needed and getting supplied with some of the best quality human blood on the market.
The mere thought of the man I used to be gave me chills. I was glad I wasn’t that kind of person anymore. That was for sure.
I opened the door to what was now Darius’s quarters and walked into a dark anteroom. There was no trace of light or warmth in it; vampires needed neither of those things.
It took me some time, but my eyes eventually adjusted to some of the darkness, but not really that much. I still couldn’t see a bloody thing, only now I could sort of navigate through the room, mainly by memory.
I should have thought about that, but how could I have? Darkness wasn’t something I’d given a second thought when I’d been a vampire, and I hardly ever found myself in a pitch-black situation.
