Falling From Grace

by L. T. Kelly

  We both took a step back and nodded, running at the door and simultaneously kicking out with both our feet, pummelling the door.

  A crash sent the buckled wood splintering through the air and crashing back down inside the carpeted entrance.

  Rose, Charmion and Pearl stood beside us within seconds. Pearl agreed to hang back a few moments to wait for Freya as the rest of us burst inside. The element of surprise could not be underestimated. Charmion swished through the door on the ground floor and strode upstairs beside us within a second.

  “Anything?”

  She shook her head. “There’s nobody down there.”

  We reached the second floor where we knew Bartholomew and Rose were held, each of us checking the red curtain-lined room with military precision. Nothing.

  “Where the fuck are they? Is this where you were kept, Rose?” I asked her, becoming irate with the lack of progress. For me, this operation was meant to be short and sharp, but this bitch was playing with us.

  “Let’s try her apartment on the top floor,” I suggested, making for the door at speed. The others flowed behind me, each of us scaled the bar and headed up the stairs behind it. I hoped Pearl listened for us and Freya would arrive to join us soon. I slammed open the door.

  The stifling heat from the room hit me in the face like I’d opened an oven door. It was packed to the rafters with people, all who stopped what they were doing to turn to see us all there. I spotted Bartholomew first, standing at the fringe of the crowd wearing a black polar neck and jacket, his head bowed as though in prayer.

  “Oh, everyone. Isn’t it lovely? Another family member here to celebrate Keith’s life,” Catherine said sardonically.

  I ignored her, moving to Bartholomew, his name falling from my mouth as I approached. Not until I placed my fingers on his solid chest did he acknowledge me with a glance.

  “How may I help you?” he asked sharply, his eyes devoid of any recognition whatsoever.

  I turned to view Catherine’s simpering smile, moving in a blur to her, my fingers wrapping around her throat snugly.

  “You bit–” I screeched, my fingers flying away from her neck as quickly as I put them there and moving to my head. White-hot pain screamed through my brain. I struggled to stay on my feet as the pain intensified, filling my ears with insanely loud white noise, a shrieking in the background behind it I knew to be my own.

  I was lifted from the ground and held close to a body, but I failed to pry my scrunched-up eyes open through fear my eyeballs would explode from the agonising pain erupting in my head. Then it eased and ebbed away. I opened my eyes. Just like the sound of my voice forced Rose out of her mind-controlled stupor, my screeching must have had the same effect on Bartholomew.

  His chin jutted toward Catherine as he held me tightly to his chest. “You’ve done as you wish to me, but do not hurt her, Catherine.” His voice wasn’t like his own, laced with weariness and a lack of conviction.

  Catherine released a high-pitched tinkling laughter. The rest of the room stood whilst she lounged on a chair at the centre of the room, like she was the queen and the audience her jesters. “Bartholomew,” she drawled, her eyes sparkling and pupils dilated, high on power. “You’re meant to be playing a mourner today. Why are you there?” His body convulsed and he let go of me, his movement served as a pre-warning he would drop me and saved me from landing on my ass. I stayed crouched once my feet hit the ground, watching Bartholomew comply with Catherine’s request, his expression once again blank.

  The silence hummed as the others in the room stared hard at me, most likely shocked at how similar Catherine and I looked. Aside from their avid scrutiny of me, they appeared wholly unconcerned that several vampires had just interrupted Keith’s wake, who most likely had been the husband of the woman crying in the corner the last unpleasant occasion I frequented the club.

  My stomach jolted and my teeth grit. “Why won’t you let him go?” I barked at her.

  Catherine shrugged, her expression nonchalant. Her hand travelled rhythmically over the head of her black feline friend nestled in her lap, asleep. “He makes me a lot of money. Not just for this, either.” She lifted the enormous cat up and ran her fingers over a golden globe encrusted with emeralds dangling from a red collar beside a smaller name tag disc. She repositioned the cat until his head rested on her shoulder. “He’s quite popular with the ladies. Just like your little blonde friend back there.” Catherine raised a brow and a smirk to the open apartment door where Rose hung back. “The old and mighty ones always have been.”

  My hair flew forward from a rush of air coming from behind me. Rose took my gripped throat stance on top of Catherine’s body, her movements so fast I could barely establish why she appeared to be thrashing around so much. The cat fled the scene eventually, hissing his disgust of the attack on his master, but not enough to protect her this time.

  I failed to understand how Rose decided not to learn from my earlier mistake. Was her decision to attack a disrespect of Catherine’s power, or an incomprehension? Rose was flung back, clutching her head, as Alex heroically rushed forward, most likely with the intention of saving his maker in the same way as Bartholomew saved me.

  “No.” The word popped from Catherine’s mouth in a childlike voice. Rose’s head exploded. Crimson blood laced with grey brain matter flying over the room.

  Bile rose in my throat as skull and brain smacked against my legs. Wails echoed through the room, leaving me without knowing where to look first. The cat meowed and leaped back onto Catherine’s lap, as though nothing had happened.

  Geo sped from the opposite side of the room to where Bartholomew stood. My focus had been directed on Bartholomew. I failed to notice Geo’s presence upon entry. Tears lined his face as he took in the vision of the headless body of his wife lying on the polished, wood floor. Alex stood beside Geo, his features fraught and forlorn.

  My prayers in the limo were made in vain. Just when I thought I’d finally seen the real Rose Romano shine through. Just when I thought we overcame the idle chitchat, she got killed. My heart throbbed for both men crouching over her mangled and bloodied body. Rose came here for vengeance. Now I had to do it for her. I didn’t know how the fuck I would achieve it.

  I turned my glance to Catherine, I’d taken many lives in my time, but her gleeful expression sickened me. I went to step forward, to try my best to reason with the woman, but my boot pressed on something solid. I peeked down. Rose had not been trying to strangle Catherine at all, she’d been relieving her of the thing that kept her powerful and in control. The amulet, still attached to the cat’s collar, lay at my feet. I put at boot forward, angling my foot until it covered the red leather collar and offered Catherine a magnificent grin.

  “Hey, Catherine,” I called to her, jutting out my chin. “You missing something, girlfriend?” I snickered, playing with fire, but enjoying it nonetheless.

  Her smirk faded from her lips as her hand patted about the black cat’s neck, her eyes widening and her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard.

  A grey-haired, corpulent man stepped forward. I recognised him as the man I passed on the stairs who took a lingering glance at me the last time I visited here.

  “Give it back,” he seethed.

  I laughed, sweeping my eyes over the downturned mouths of my distant relatives. They all relied on the thing beneath my foot as a means of survival, and I couldn’t give a flying fuck if they all died of starvation. They may have been blood relatives, but I owed them nothing. They’d been a party to sickening acts. Their ancestors had taken from my poor mother on her deathbed. I only owed them one thing, and that was retribution.

  The grey-haired man took another step toward me, shoving his twitching, pock-marked face into my vision. I reached out and clutched his throat. Anyone who thought they could threaten or intimidate me would be sadly mistaken. I squeezed as hard as my hand would allow, feeling his flesh burst open beneath my fingers, then threw him across the room like a ragdoll.<
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  I wiped the man’s blood splatter from my face with my sleeve. My breath caught in my throat and adrenaline coursed potently through my veins. I took extra care not to swallow any of the man’s blood. Being human in the current situation wouldn’t do anyone any good.

  “Who’s fucking next?” I grit out into the deathly silent room.

  Catherine sat up straight. I had successfully taken one of her kin. Her gaze bounced from the man’s dead, mangled body to my face. She let out a strangled moan. Her huge, black cat responded to her distress, meowing and rubbing its head against her as though to offer comfort. The people in the room huddled together. I wondered if they were thinking when Catherine would bestow the same fate on me as she had on Rose. I was with them on that, but as things stood, the score totalled one all.

  My hand whipped out as I perceived the woman who huddled in the corner the night I first came here running at me. She rebounded off my outstretched palm, her full bottom landing on the polished, blood-splattered floor of the apartment. Dark blue eyes stared unwaveringly at me.

  “You’re ruining my husband’s wake.”

  “I’m aware. But judging by those girls’ faces over there, he’s ruined their lives.”

  I clocked their huddled forms, heard their whispers of thanks for Keith’s death before I even broached the door. If they wanted to make it out alive, I’d allow them. Perhaps Freya would take them back to Ancrum with her and nurture the young witches as her family had for over a hundred years. Whatever happened, the sickening cycle of ruined lives must stop here.

  “He never touched them. They’re liars,” she screeched, her lips pulled back over her teeth, her eyes wide. Her body shook as she struggled to achieve a standing position. I angled my body so that if she came at me, I had the opportunity to remove her throat the same as I had her relation. “My brother, David, would have vouched for him, but you killed him,” she whined like a child.

  I narrowed my eyes on the woman so desperate to exonerate her dead husband. She was either very foolish or utterly insane.

  “And how could he do that? Was he there when your husband touched them inappropriately? Did he watch as your husband put his hands in their pants whilst they shook with fear?”

  She ran at me again, and I knocked her back on her ass with a flap of my hand. I was not done with her yet.

  “You. All of you are even worse than fucking Keith. You want me to tell you what all of you are? You’re fucking facilitators.” My fists balled so my nails sliced into my palms.

  Catherine sat, her head bent, tears dripping from her face. She didn’t cry for her family and what transpired around her, as disgraceful as the scene became. No, she cried for the loss of her precious amulet and all the wealth and power that came along with it. At that moment, I knew she deserved to suffer more than the other members of this family.

  Around the edges of the room, eyes blinked. Bartholomew rushed to me. “My darling, we need to end this.”

  He swooped to my feet, and I lifted my boot, enabling him to snatch the amulet. I would be thrilled never to set eyes on the goddamned thing ever again.

  The woman on the floor scrambled to stand once again. Her eyes flashed, first at me, then the young girls in the corner, holding each other.

  “Little girls lie, too.”

  She propelled herself toward the girls, her elbow glanced my chest as I reached out and took a fistful of her coarse, auburn hair. With my grip firm, I slammed her back down to where she belonged – lying on the floor below me. I lifted my boot above her head and stamped. Her head exploded as Rose’s had, like a watermelon being dropped from height.

  The people at the fringes of the room seemed to awaken from Catherine’s spell. They were as pissed as I was. I turned as Geo and Alex lifted what remained of Rose’s body and swallowed hard. Their expressions were lined with agony.

  Bartholomew and I stood back-to-back in protective stances as the remaining witches in the clan invaded my brain with pain. Bruno decapitated a short, stocky guy with black hair, peppered with grey around the edges. Another invoked a spell pummelling my head, as though I was sparring with a heavyweight champion. I leaned into Bartholomew for support. I didn’t know how much longer we could last. Blood splattered us as the few remaining people standing in the outer part of the room, who’d also acted as her brainwashed sex servants and God knew whatever else, snapped out of her clutches and sought their revenge.

  The air in the room shifted. Freya floated through the blood-soaked apartment as though no mayhem was evident within the room. My eyes flickered open as I watched her move. All the screaming and the splashing spatters of blood soaking the walls and soft furnishings ceased. Freya stopped in front of Catherine, who’d decided not to look up since her precious amulet had been snatched from her cat’s neck.

  “Hello, Catherine,” Freya said.

  Twenty Two

  I’ll Say Goodbye to Love

  Bated breaths hummed through the room as Catherine’s head rose. A murderous expression washed over her features. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

  Freya’s hand flew dramatically to her chest. “I’m surprised you’re not aware of me.” Her voice sang, and I would have smiled under different circumstances.

  The stench of rusty, flavoursome blood coated the room, casting it with an eerily crimson glow. A fleeting thought passed through my sore head. What a waste. Of course, none of us could touch a drop of the blood for fear it would render us human.

  The quiet enabled me to glance around. Bruce hovered around Bartholomew, as he always did. A bulky, muscular guy with dark eyes and an even darker expression hung back, his eyes trained unwaveringly on Catherine. A werewolf undoubtedly. Another small, blonde vampire, barely of the age required to turn, stood across the room. Her chin dripped with blood and green eyes sparkled. I made a mental note to inform her of what a witch’s blood would do to her temporarily. Geo had obviously been detained in the red velvet-draped room amongst them, too.

  Aside from the two young witch girls, who remained huddled in the corner away from the dramatics playing out, only three of Catherine’s clan remained. A girl in her early twenties and two young men in their late teens placed themselves beside her.

  “I said I don’t know who you are. Can you not see the crisis we’re in here? I’m not really up for visitors, unless you’re going to help me take back what they stole from me.” She scowled at me, and I returned the gesture.

  One of the young men, a fat, dark-haired one wearing glasses, raised his hand to me. I turned my head, feeling his power invade my brain. The pain vanished quickly, followed by a long, guttural wail. I removed my hand from my forehead, which had automatically flown to rest there protectively, and glanced to see the girl beside Catherine crouched over the boy.

  “They’ve killed my mother and now my brother. All on a day I came to bury me da. Are you going to do something, Catherine?”

  Catherine wore the spoiled brat look with aplomb, and all of a sudden, I wondered what part her parents played in all this. Another pair of enablers, I figured.

  “Hayley,” Catherine drawled, not looking to the girl. “Stop whining.”

  Freya beamed at Catherine, as though glad she took her seriously now she felled another of her clan.

  My stomach felt as though it dropped out on the floor. What was Freya playing at? Was it possible Freya would change sides in favour of the diminished witch clan? Her fastidious smile forced the fine hairs on my arms to stand on end. I took a cautious side glance at Bartholomew, his blank expression providing me with nothing concrete.

  “My clan took your clan in for hundreds of years. Girls like those.” She gestured backward with her head to the scared, softly weeping girls at the back of the room.

  Catherine stared at Freya unwaveringly, her black cat now snaking around her calves, begging for the attention and comfort he wouldn’t be getting anytime soon.

  Hayley, unbeknown of her place, scrambled to her feet from beside t
he still body of her brother. Her mouth twisted into a snarl, her glance flitting between Freya and the girls at the back of the room.

  “They came on to me father. Dirty little druggie slags,” Hayley hissed.

  My stomach lurched. I clasped my hands together to stop me from rushing forward to snap Hayley’s head off and forever erase the diatribe she spewed. The red-haired girl saved me the hassle. She ran at Hayley, grabbing her flimsy top and clutching it so tight the sound of seams tearing rippled through the silence.

  “I was eleven years old. If I laid in front of your sick father with my legs open, which I didn’t, he should have never laid a finger on me. Instead, I came home from school to find myself alone with him.” A sob rolled off her heaving chest. “He slipped his hand inside my school trousers. I froze.” She shook Hayley, as though to urge the girl to process what she said. Her eyes bulged and spittle flew out over Hayley’s face.

  My breathing became harder, watching the girl attempting to defend herself. She shouldn’t be having to do this. Not here. Not now. Not ever. One glance at her, the pain creasing her features, the anger and utter rage forcing a tremble to pass though her body, caused pain to stretch out over my chest.

  Poor, poor girl. This ought to be stopped.

  “Hey.” Before I could stop myself, my hand rested on the redhead’s shoulder. “I believe you. I’m your kin, distant or otherwise.”

  The girl’s pink, tear-stained face turned to me. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties. If this happened to her when she was eleven, she spent too many years of being disbelieved. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for her. She crumpled into my arms, having relinquished her grip on Hayley’s top.

  In some respects, I could forgive Keith’s children for not wishing to believe their father’s actions to be true. Who would? But the dead adults lying around me deserved what had been doled out for their behaviour. They had the chance to stop the abuse from happening.

  The girl clung to me, sobs rolling from her and hot tears relieved on my shoulder. “You said what I needed to hear for the past fifteen years. It’s all I needed.”