Coven Master

by W. J. May

  He tried to drive the thought and memory away. Instead, he focused every tiny atom of boiling blood raging within him and imagined all that darkness merging with the entwined forces of the sea and the sky in the distance.

  I’ve finally found you, Adelaide. And this time, there will be no hiding.

  A raging tidal wave of desire rose within him, a need for vengeance like no other. However, Darian was wiser than to surrender his senses to the temptations of it. Instead, he knew he needed calmness. He needed his mind working well, both when he was attending it and also when he’d be elsewhere, away from the ramblings of his thoughts.

  He lowered his gaze and the starry distance ahead of him was met with his bowing head, as if to tear away the scenes attacking him like feral waves to his spine. He looked at his palms as his fingers involuntarily closed into fists. He breathed deeply and allowed his hands to be the only part of him that showed his anger.

  From behind him came the sound of stones crunching under feet, and he turned. In the darkness, Raul appeared at the arch, slowly walking his way.

  Darian thought of how, right when he’d been trying to control the reflexes of his body to the tyranny of anger within him, his friend came strolling up with a grin on his face, as if holding the veil that would dim the brightness of his vivid nightmares. As Raul neared him, he thought of how serenity comes, carried by a friend, when your own mind tries to become an enemy of your own.

  Darian dangled his feet from the edge of the arch as Raul settled next to him, and the two sat in silence, gazing out at the sea.

  “Did you see her?” Darian asked, his eyes still fixed on the distant horizon.

  “Atlanta?” replied Raul. “Saw her, but didn’t talk to her. She’s beautiful, though,” he added, smiling and laughing silently at his own misplaced humor.

  Darian grinned and picked up a small rock, then threw it into the sea ahead of him. The stone sank right in without bouncing off the surface. “I meant Adelaide.”

  Raul’s smile turned into a slightly distressed look as he observed the rage that swirled in Darian’s blue eyes. “No one did,” he replied. “You know how Witches hide and lurk only in shadows. Just like those ugly Vampires in the east.”

  Darian smiled, knowing that Raul was trying to comfort him by attacking the Witches and Vampires. The two friends never talked about his mother’s murder. However, it was a grief shared silently between them.

  “There was something else I forgot to mention earlier,” Raul said suddenly. “There were flying beasts in the skies of the city right before I left. They had grey wings, and set fire to what was underneath them by dropping a kind of black tar from their mouths. It was horrifying. James told me about them in his story of the insurgence. He said they were—”

  “Gargoyles,” Darian interrupted him. “My father told me about them years back. He said they were also another creation of the Witches, centuries ago. In the time of the voyages they were cemented and made into statues sold around the world as decorations.”

  “I can’t imagine...” Raul shook his head, “what the people in Calen must be going through.”

  “I doubt there’s room for imagination now. I think we must act as soon as possible,” Darian replied, masking his rage in a tone of confidence.

  Raul stared at Darian as he shifted from his previous hidden anger to a sudden composure and self-assurance accompanied with a grin. He could ask what Darian thought, if he considered sending others to help, or what The Coven should do. Instead, he asked, “When are you going?”

  Darian again looked out into the distance, as if consulting the stars. He held a couple of stones in his hand, and shook them in his fist as if playing with dice. He threw the stones into the water, and this time they bounced several times on the surface before sinking into the depths of the sea.

  He’d already figured Calen couldn’t be left to its ruin. Not only because the danger in the city was a threat to every part of the world, not only because of the responsibilities that weighed down on him...not only because his father had entrusted him with the duties The Coven was expected to fulfill.

  It was also because he couldn’t shake the scene of his mother’s murder from his mind. He knew no matter how much he looked down on vengeance and how much he despised the rage that was lurking in his veins, he still had to act in accordance with his heart, mind, and body. He knew he had to end the centuries’-long reign of Adelaide’s malevolence, even though he had no idea how.

  Darian stood, catching one last glimpse of the clasping of sky onto the sea. “In the morning, I’ll be heading to America, to Calen.”

  “No,” Raul said quietly, starting down at the long drop to the sea.

  “No? What? You’re going to try to stop me?”

  Raul shook his head. “No, friend. Tomorrow, we’re heading to Calen. Together.”

  Chapter 6

  Get up!

  Atlanta’s eyes fluttered open, slowly and painfully, her vision a blur. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, calm and steady, yet weak. Every inch of her body tingled, and her muscles felt like deadweights on top of her, pressing her down to the ground.

  Get up!

  She groaned and tried to move her head, but could only lift it a few inches off the ground. She turned it slowly, shifting her position only enough to convince herself that she still could, and gazed at the silhouettes of the candles a few feet away from her.

  For a few seconds, she tried to remember where she was.

  “Rise and shine, princess.”

  The room was too dark for her to see who was talking, but the voice was instantly recognizable. She felt a shudder race through her, her mind screaming silent warnings she couldn’t comprehend.

  “Planning on staying there forever? Giving up?” James Skolar stepped out of the shadows and crouched down in front of her.

  She could see him smile in the darkness, and she instinctively smiled back. “Where are we?” she muttered, coughing violently as the air she breathed in scratched her throat. Why is my mouth so dry?

  “You’re in the Dome,” James replied. “Don’t you remember?”

  Atlanta frowned, scouring her mind for the remains of any memory that would shed light onto why she was here. She couldn’t remember coming to the Dome, let alone falling asleep on the cold floor beneath her. Placing both hands by her side, she slowly pushed herself up onto her knees.

  “There you go.” James chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

  “How long have I been out?” Atlanta shivered, but not from the cold.

  “I’m not really sure,” James replied. “It’s hard to tell down here.”

  Atlanta looked up at her uncle. “Down here?”

  James shrugged. “Well, we’re not exactly in the Dome proper, sweetie. We’re about two stories below it.”

  Atlanta shifted so she was sitting with her back to the wall, her head swimming as her body threatened to topple over. A raging headache began at the back of her skull, and she could feel its tendrils snaking their way to the front. “There’s nothing below the Dome.” Was she speaking the words clearly? They seemed slurred to her somehow.

  “You know better than that.” James tsked. “But I’ll give you a few seconds. It’ll all come back to you.”

  Atlanta’s frown deepened, and just as the headache engulfed her a kaleidoscope of images flashed before her eyes.

  She saw the towers first, the green mist above her head, and Skylar smiling at her from a distance. Only, it wasn’t Skylar. She knew that, but for some strange reason she couldn’t put a name to the face. The images darkened, and for a split second she believed she had been spared the agony of watching any more.

  And just as she took a deep breath of relief, the images shot through her head again. She saw James and Ryan fighting. Her uncle’s hesitation. The hybrids’ attack.

  Atlanta closed her eyes and shook her head violently. “N-No!” she stammered.

  “Atlanta.”

  She kept h
er eyes glued shut, willing the voice away, unable to make peace with what she knew was true.

  “Look at me, baby,” James whispered.

  Atlanta felt the tears sting her eyes and roll down her cheeks. Reluctantly, she opened them and looked at her uncle. He smiled at her, and it only broke her heart even more.

  “I’m right here,” he said reassuringly.

  Atlanta sobbed. “No, you’re not,” she whispered. “You’re dead.”

  James’s smile widened. “Well, that can be argued.” He chuckled. “Physically, sure, but here...” he pointed to his heart and then to hers, “I’m very much alive right there.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  James shrugged. “It should be a little reassuring. Nobody ever truly dies, Atlanta. You keep them alive as long as you need them.”

  Atlanta’s vision blurred as more tears obscured it. “I need you now.”

  “Which is pretty much why I’m here.”

  Atlanta took a deep breath and let it out in a whimper. “Uncle James.”

  “Right now, there are more important things to do,” James interjected, cutting through her thoughts. “Like getting out of here, for starters. Do you think you can walk?”

  Atlanta ran a hand across her crimson suit, now caked in mud and torn in various places. She wiggled her toes, flexed her ankles, and moved her legs. She felt them tingle, and firmly pushed herself to her feet. “I can walk.”

  “That’s my girl,” James said. “Now, let’s find our way back to the surface, okay?”

  Atlanta hesitated, looking at the circle of candles that were surrounding her uncle’s corpse. Her body shuddered at the memory, and she quickly pushed her shoulders back. Now was not the time. She stared at the opening of the corridor, the darkness there even more menacing than that which surrounded her. “That way,” she said, pointing.

  “That way, indeed,” James replied.

  Atlanta moved forward. Her legs were unsteady and her mind played tricks on her, but she was determined to keep walking. It didn’t matter whether James was a figment of her imagination; her uncle had a sound argument. She had to find her way back and warn the others.

  Warn them about what?

  “The door,” Atlanta whispered.

  “Try not to think of that right now,” James said from behind her.

  Even though she knew he was right, it was all she could think about.

  She remembered the voices behind the door, how her body had seemed to operate on its own. She remembered the spell she’d been under—she’d been compelled to do what she’d spent her life fighting not to do. DON’T OPEN THE DOOR.

  She wasn’t herself when it happened, she knew that, but it didn’t make the guilt eating at her any less agonizing. She should’ve been strong enough to resist. Strong enough to stop it. Uncle James should’ve been helping her. Instead, he’d let himself be killed.

  Something crunched under her boot and she jumped back, instinctively reaching for her sword. In the darkness she could see the outline of the dead raven she’d stepped on; further down the corridor, more of the same. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the long corridor appeared to be littered with hundreds of dead birds.

  “Keep going,” James said from behind her, and she felt a force on her back pushing her forward.

  She made her way down the corridor, careful not to step on any more ravens. When she turned the corner, her eyes fell on the open door and the darkness that loomed behind it.

  She stopped, her gaze fixated on the dead space that had once confined the hybrids. They were gone now. She knew that with every fiber of her being. They were all out, terrorizing the city above—destroying the place she called home.

  “Are you okay?” James asked.

  Atlanta nodded and turned to look at a staircase leading up. “I’m fine,” she snapped. “Any idea what’s waiting on the other side of that wall?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Atlanta made her way up the stone stairs, and as she reached the wall that separated the underground tunnel from the Dome proper she pulled out her sword. Her hand found the bricks easily, almost as if working from instinct, and the wall slid open.

  A gush of wind welcomed her, sand and light mixing and bombarding her, blinding her completely and forcing her to stagger back. It was as if she had stepped into a storm. It took a while for the winds to die down as they filled the underground tunnels that had previously been spared their wrath.

  “I’m right here,” James assured her, and Atlanta used that little bit of confidence to push her way out into the Dome.

  Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.

  The ground was littered with the corpses of fallen Vampires and Werewolves, some greatly mangled, others staring with dead eyes into space. The Dome itself looked like The Cast of Mother Nature had come down on it. The glass ceiling was gone, the walls on several sides crumbled, tables and chairs shattered and strewn everywhere. Whatever had happened here, it had been devastating, and the weight of it all fell heavily on Atlanta.

  This is all because of me.

  “Careful, Druid,” James hissed from behind her.

  Atlanta fell to one knee instantly, holding her sword up as her eyes darted left and right.

  Several pairs of glowing red eyes stared back at her. A manic cackle sounded to her left, and the hiss of anger filled what remained of the Dome. The eyes came closer, and through the veil of sand and wind bodies materialized before her.

  “Vampires?” Atlanta whispered.

  “Humans,” James replied. “It doesn’t matter. They’re compelled and just as dangerous.”

  Atlanta stood slowly. She heard the soft rustle of running feet, and turned just in time as a figure pounced out of the storm at her. She swung her sword expertly, swiftly, her muscles screaming at the strain.

  The body crumpled by her feet.

  “It begins,” James said. “Careful, Atlanta. Remember what I taught you.”

  Seeing she’d survived the first attack, others lunged at her.

  Atlanta held her ground, waiting for them to come closer before pushing herself forward and slicing through the next two attackers. Screams echoed through the Dome, and from behind her she could hear more footsteps racing towards her.

  She swirled, letting one hand drop from her sword just in time to release a pair of knives and throw them into the mist. Screams of pain let her know she’d found her targets, and she quickly made her way through another pair of attackers, their blood splattering her crimson suit.

  And still they came.

  She jumped out of the way of hands trying to grab her and sprinted into the main hall. The winds were weaker here, the dust less dense, and in the clearing she could see she was now surrounded by at least two dozen compelled humans, all racing towards her with incredible speed.

  “They’re too many,” she gasped.

  “You’ve got this,” James replied.

  But she knew that wasn’t true. She was tired, her muscles aching and her mind foggy. She could probably withstand another minute or two of attacks, but that would only serve to slow down her predators, not subdue them all.

  She had to come up with a better plan.

  A hand grabbed her shoulder, and she slammed her elbow back and into the man’s face, turning and slicing through his chest as he fell. Her eyes searched for an escape, any way to rid herself of the confinements of the Dome. She could deal with all this better if she had more room, if she could separate the masses.

  To her right, the crumbled remains of a wall offered just that escape.

  Atlanta was about to turn, when a blinding burst of green light shot through the entirety of the Dome. She fell to one knee and covered her face, feeling the heat of the green light envelop her and race past her. Screams sounded in the air, and from somewhere to her left a body exploded in a shower of blood.

  And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the light disappeared.


  Atlanta lowered her arm from her face, her hand tightening on the pommel of her sword, ready to face this new challenge. Her breathing grew labored as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, taking in the carnage of burned bodies around her.

  Across the main hall, two figures made their way to her.

  “Uncle?” she whispered. “Do I fight? Or run?”

  But James was silent.

  Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, raising her sword high, ready to strike. They weren’t human, she could sense that right away. But there was something... different about them. She set her legs shoulder-width apart, ready to fight—or die trying. “I’m not letting you win,” she called out, trying to scare them. “I’m stronger than you think.”

  The two figures, both male, did not stop.

  She locked her elbow into place, trying to decide which one to strike first. Which would be weaker? She hesitated when she saw one of the men smile at her.

  “Atlanta Skolar,” the man said, his foreign accent thick against the wind in the Dome.

  Her eyes dropped down to his hands.

  They were still glowing green from the magic he’d just unleashed. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He stopped in front of her and clasped his hands behind his back. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Darian. Leader of The Coven.”

  Chapter 7

  Atlanta stared at the intoxicating man in front of her.

  It was like being in the corner of a fully acoustic room where the echo of your whisper dances, leaps, and falls off the ceiling, into your ears. Like the sound of several machines the second when the power is cut off and the last few electrons run their way through the closed circuit to escape the abyss of the power shortage. Similar to the line between consciousness and the lack of it in the seconds between the rambling thoughts of a head lying on a bed in a dark room during the final ticks of midnight, and that one thought which lingers in the sleeping mind. Or more like gazing at eyes captured in the deep blue of the sky right before the heavy clouds of autumn come strolling by and obscure the loudness of the wavelengths of light blue.