Howling Shadows

by C. N. Owens

  “Are you really that scared of your maker?”

  “Don’t make me stop you.”

  “Cassie, it’s simple. Either we go in together, or I’ll just wait until you’re gone and then go in alone.”

  I sigh. “Okay, come with me. But you park your ass at the bar and wait until I come back.”

  “But I really like this band, and I’m no wallflower!”

  “Trent.”

  He groans. “Fine.”

  ***

  Like lions among a herd of gazelle, we stroll across the dance floor of one of the East Coast’s hottest goth clubs, Dante’s Tragedy. Once a steel mill, it stands smack in the middle of an industrial park in the bowels of Chesapeake, Virginia, known by the locals as Deep Creek. Most nights, this giant stone-walled box is so crammed with people that the crowd becomes one silhouetted body of melded flesh with fists pumping in the air.

  I leave Trent at the bar and pass through the door on the far side of the concert area. I can tell eyes are upon me even now. I hope they are disappointed. My blank expression and confident stride give away nothing of the terror that lingers just below the surface. Raoul’s call came unexpectedly; it has been so long since I last heard from him, I started to think he managed to piss off the right person and get himself killed. Too bad, it isn’t true.

  Calvin is standing at the door and gives me a silent nod as I approach. His expression is cold, emotionless. I stop in front of him, and he opens the door he is guarding, saying nothing. He’s never quiet; this isn’t like him at all.

  “I’m hurt,” I say to the bouncer. “After all these years, I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

  He shifts in place, and then one of his paw-like hands envelops the top of my head. “I’m sorry, love. It’s good to see you again.”

  I chuckle and swat his gargantuan mitt away. “You as well, Calvin.” I suppress a groan while stealing a reluctant glance through the door and down the flight of steps. “Something bothering you?” I ask, stalling more than anything else, but I also can’t stand that he’s hiding something.

  “You just say the word, sista; I’ll gladly take this burden from you.” His voice is deep and solemn, pregnant with his ever-present Samoan accent. Calvin doesn’t make promises that he’s not willing to commit to in every conceivable way, but I know better. He’s no match for any of the creatures I’m about to meet.

  “That is very kind of you, but I don’t want you involved in my problems.”

  Calvin’s face curls into a deep frown. “This worries me. The boss should have never welcomed these people in here.”

  “Be careful what you say. Raoul hears everything. And don’t be so hard on Dante. He had no choice.” With a smile, I pass Calvin and disappear down the steps.

  I tiptoe through Dante’s underground compound, passing through the halls that conjure memories of the years I spent here. At one point, I even called this subterranean fortress home. The thought that I should have brought a weapon echoes in my mind, but Raoul would know; he always does and would immediately be suspicious of my intentions. There’s only one way to do this, and that is just to get it over with.

  Taking a deep breath, I press down on the brass door handle, push the heavy red door open and walk into the room. Even though it has been years since I have seen Dante, everything, down to the arrangement of the fiery silk tapestry is exactly the way I remember it.

  “This is so like you, Dante. I could walk through here blindfolded and still find my way.” He appears from a dark hallway. His smile is warm and welcoming.

  “It has been too long,” he says, and pulls me into a hug. His gestures, as always, are highly animated. His long oil slick of black hair hangs arrow straight down his back.

  “Yes. I wish I was here to catch up. I guess we shouldn’t delay this any longer.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” a growling voice says from behind me, and I turn to see Raoul. Only his profile is visible in the dim light. Another stands behind him, a statue veiled in the darkness. An aura of energy emanates from him. It’s Bento, I can tell because he’s fondling me with his mind. Raoul’s bringing him out again. This both terrifies and enthralls me. Now, I think I know what has happened.

  “Raoul,” I say, “why do you call for me after all this time?” I turn my back to him and walk over to Dante. With a big smile, he locks arms with me. Raoul chuckles, despite the rude gesture. Perhaps he has learned some temperance since the last time he called on me.

  “There’s no need for hostility,” Raoul says. His accent is stern and British, echoing in the chasm-like room. “Why can’t we ever have an enjoyable meeting?” His blue eyes reflect nothing but coldness, belying his expression, which seems pleasant. Raoul was an older man when he became a vampire. His weathered face gives him the look of a man in his sixties, yet he has the physique of a Viking warrior.

  He is around six feet tall, and even in his finely tailored suit, the swell of his muscular, barrel-shaped chest makes his suit jacket fit awkwardly. Perhaps his hair gives away his age the most. His fiery red hair had thinned before he died, but when he joined the undead, it became even more lustrous, with long wispy locks that dance on his shoulders. His age was lost when he forgot it eons ago. Rightfully so, it is thought that he is one of the originals, born of the pure spirit and not from another vampire.

  “Perhaps we will have a cordial meeting when you stop blackmailing me,” I say.

  Raoul laughs and turns to face his shadowed partner for a moment, clearly unafraid of Dante or myself. “My dear, I hardly call it blackmail. Your tasks ensure that I will not reveal truths about you to your enemies.” His bushy red brow furrows, yet his expression remains calm, which makes me even more uncomfortable.

  “Rationalize it any way you want, just get to the point so I can get the hell out of here.” My face flushes with anger, and the man in the shadows shifts in place.

  “My lord, the girl wastes our time,” Bento says with a deep, raspy voice. It sounds outdated, somehow unaffected by the passing years and the changes in culture. He speaks to his master the way a peasant would address a noble.

  Raoul doesn’t respond. He simply raises his hand, and the voice goes quiet.

  A shadow appears on the other side of the room. It’s a small blonde-haired girl, a vampire, not quite as old as me.

  Raoul walks to her and takes something from her hand, inspecting it.

  Feeling left out, I walk over to them. “What am I missing out on?”

  The blonde eyes me scornfully as Raoul smiles and drops the object in my hand. “Raoul.”

  “We’ve already discussed this, Helen.” He looks back to me. “Exciting times are afoot.”

  I look at the object; I gave it to him centuries ago when I no longer had a use for it. It’s a small bit of rusted iron with the letters HVVS stamped into the metal. Tied to it is a finger bone. It looks to be fresh; it’s still oily, and bits of cartilage remain. Braided white hair lashes the bone to the metal, creating what we call a focus. “You’ve found another.”

  Raoul shoots me an arrogant smirk. “She has been under my nose for years.” He takes the focus back and studies it. “Do you think it will work?”

  “It worked on Sara,” I reply.

  Raoul sighs. “We can only hope.”

  “What can I do for you, Raoul? I know you haven’t come to offer me another child. You must want her for yourself.”

  “Laird is holding her, at this address,” he says, and hands me a card. “I need use of your old talents.”

  “You realize how long it has been.”

  “Yes, but I doubt you have lost any skill.”

  “Why me?”

  “Tradition, and perhaps compensation to keep me from expressing my distaste for the foul dog you cavort with.”

  I suppress a gasp. “What do I do when I am there?”

  “Bring her to me… unharmed.”

  “Her name is Leila. Please be kind
to her,” the blonde adds as she slips a little deeper into the shadowed hallway.

  I commit the address to memory and flick the card at Helen. “Where do you find these new vampires? Does she think I’m an idiot? Does she know who I am?”

  Like a placating parent, Raoul laughs and raises his hands. “She’s young, but she knows the craft; she created that focus. Her skills are invaluable to me.”

  “I thought you would’ve grown bored of trying to rule the world by now.”

  A half smile forms on Raoul’s face, revealing clenched teeth and four long white fangs. “Careful.”

  “If she’s dead or gone?”

  “You are to get what information you can from a man named Vlad. When you are done, kill him and Laird.”

  “I will pay them a visit soon.”

  Raoul nods. “Do keep in touch.”

  ***

  I step back out onto the dance floor, and as expected, Trent is gone. I look around. On stage, a diminutive girl with blue hair roars lyrics speaking of social injustice. I chuckle at the irony; she’s probably a vegan, too. If only she knew how good she has it in this age. Women with strong convictions are fun to chat with. Perhaps I’ll meet her after the show and have a feed. Giving up on Trent, I turn to leave, but someone grabs my arm and drags me back into the hallway.

  Trent pushes me against the wall. “What’s going on here?”

  I shove him away and right myself. “Do not assume that my feelings for you make me weak.”

  “I saw two men with a girl, hooded and handcuffed. Speak now, or I’ll begin questioning our relationship,” he says, his voice a hushed roar. “What are they up to?”

  “Maybe a bondage thing?”

  He shakes his head, clenching his teeth so hard I can hear them grinding together. “I waited for you out of respect.”

  “This is way over your head. The world is about to change.”

  “Thanks for that, Yoda, but I’m still expecting a straight fucking answer.”

  “What color was her hair?”

  “From what I could see, very light blonde.”

  Shit. “Show me where they went.”

  He takes my hand and leads me through the crowd, shoving people out of the way, head-butting others. Trent is passionate about innocents… especially kids. I’m terrified to think that they’ve already found her. If they have, then Trent is right. We must act now, but not for the reasons he suspects.

  We enter a hallway. He points to a door on the left, still moving at a brisk walk, but doesn’t stop and kicks it open. We storm the room, and he drops the mortal inside with a single punch to the face. He turns, draws his double-edged blade, and in a flash, the vampire behind him drops to his knees.

  “Laird,” Trent says to the vampire on the floor, “you have five seconds. What’s going on here?” Trent’s voice is full of rage. His attention turns to the hooded girl kneeling on the floor when she lets out a little whimper. She’s wrapped in a white blanket. The only reason it clings to her is because it’s soaked in blood.

  “You can’t have her,” Laird says as I step in beside Trent. “Cassie,” he continues. His voice goes strained when he sees me.

  “You play with fire,” I say. “You were supposed to keep her with you, not take her out in public.”

  “I’ve often wondered if the stories were true.” He winces and pushes his sandy-brown hair over his ear. He’s quite young. I remember seeing him surface a hundred years ago, which makes him old enough to be overconfident.

  “Many of them are. And if that girl is who I think she is, you shouldn’t piss her off.”

  “I didn’t do any of this to her. I’m taking her to Raoul.”

  “No, you’re not. Do you know what Raoul wants to do with her?”

  Laird shakes his head. “I don’t want her at my place, she puts us all at risk.”

  “Very well,” I say. He straightens his back and stands when I take a step closer to him. “Your job is done. Thank you for making mine easy.”

  “My people are letting Raoul know that we’re here. Then, I’ll be done.”

  “Laird, just walk away. I was tasked with collecting her.” From the corner of my eye, I see Trent growing tense.

  About that time, Laird leaps from the floor and lunges for me. I dive for him, but instead, I catch his headless body as Trent delivers a killing slash to his throat.

  “Trent, we need to move fast,” I whisper while laying Laird’s remains on the floor.

  He ignores me and reaches for the girl who recoils the moment he touches her. She screeches and attacks, clawing at him, still blinded.

  “Calm down!” He wrestles her to the floor when she doesn’t relent, holding her by the wrists. She struggles for only a few more seconds but quickly gives up, beginning to cry.

  “Trent, be careful!”

  “What?” he barks. “Full of piss and vinegar, this one.”

  He shows me her hands. Her fingertips are bloody, the nails gone. Her right ring finger is missing two digits. I kneel beside her and already, I can smell her foul blood.

  He slips the hood off her head, and I gasp when I see her silvery-white hair and pewter eyes… It’s definitely her.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpers with a soft, delicate voice, and I notice all her teeth are missing; her mouth is full of bloody sockets.

  “No one here wants to hurt you. We’re the good guys,” Trent says and cuts the ropes binding her wrists.

  “Leila?” I say, and her attention turns to me and it’s confirmed.

  “Who are you?” she asks.

  “Friends.” I reach for Trent and pull him over to the corner. “Get her to a hospital, not a local one, and don’t tell me where you went until later.”

  “I remember your stories… this is her,” Trent says.

  “Just do it and trust me. This has to be done,” I say, knowing the best place for her is not with me, nor anywhere I’d know. For now, a hospital will be perfect. There are lots of people, and although her injuries are going to heal alarmingly fast, it should still buy me enough time to work out a plan.

  Trent cuts his eyes at me and then nods. “Jesus… I want no part of this.”

  I nod back. “She must be protected, no matter what.” I hesitate with my words, knowing how dangerous this has already become. This will mean war to Raoul when he finds out. If I can get her focus, I’ll have a chance. And that’s a big fucking if.

  “Fine, but you know what you are entrusting me with.”

  “I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

  ***

  Trent

  Norfolk Central Hospital. That’s where I took her. It wasn’t the most graceful of entrances, carrying a naked girl into the ER, covered in blood. Shouting random expletives got the attention I needed from the lax nursing staff. They weren’t happy about it, but they took her right in and promptly called the police to have me questioned.

  That’s fine. In a way, I can’t blame them. I hate hospitals, and it pisses me off when they order me around. A flash of my badge got me off the hook, but I still got my ass chewed for creating a scene. I’m convinced I made the nurse who asked me to move my car piss herself, or maybe even shit herself. The possibility that she did both in an impressive simultaneous act isn’t out of the question, either.

  One of Leila’s lungs collapsed soon after making it to the ER, and now she’s on a ventilator. That abrupt, almost violent rise and fall of her chest looks painful—it creeps me the hell out. It reminds me of the night I went to visit a good friend on his deathbed. I cringe every time I hear the hiss of that machine filling her lungs and nearly puke when I see that vacant corpse-like expression they have when sedated. Leila’s eyes are watering, the same way my buddy’s did, but it doesn’t fool me this time; I know she’s not crying. It’s caused by whatever they put in their eyes to keep them from drying out.

  I look at my watch. It’s 9 a.m. I’ve been here all nigh
t, yet I still can’t bring myself to leave her bedside. I’m guarding her the way a wolf would an injured pack mate, unable to get Cassie’s words out of my head. She texted me before sunrise and told me that Leila will be safe there for a while and to come to her house after sunset, but I don’t want to leave her. When I close my eyes, I still see her kneeling on the floor, beaten and tortured. It conjures memories of my first tour in Iraq where I saw things that will haunt me forever. It was then that I realized everything good in the world has died, or perhaps, it never existed in the first place. Either way, this is the age of the damned; there’s no hope for mortals anymore—we’ve become cattle.

  Leila’s skin is pale. There’s no bruising, but there are jagged tears as though something stretched her skin… I can’t imagine what happened to her, to leave wounds like this. Cassie’s words were cryptic, but I could still glean the answers from her. If I’m right, nothing should be able to hurt this frail woman.

  “Agent LaPore, I’m Detective Jordan, Norfolk PD.”

  “I already gave a statement,” I say, not bothering to look up until he reaches for my hand. We both freeze. I knew it. He had hair back then, but I could never forget that chiseled face and nearly seven feet of lean muscle. Recognizing each other, we both explode with laughter and come together in a hug.

  “Holy shit, man, how long has it been?” he asks.

  “A very long time… easily six years!” I respond, bad mood gone.

  “Weren’t you in the Army?”

  “Yeah, long story.”

  “Where did you find the girl?”

  “Well, you saw my badge, right?”

  “I did, but we already cleared that coven.”

  “Yeah, I was off mission. I found her later.”

  “And here you are now. I hate clearing those scenes.”

  “As much as I hate creating them, I’m sure.”

  “What does the girl have to do with all this?”

  No lies… only omission. “She was a prisoner, a donor, probably. But I found no bite wounds. She must’ve put up a fight because it looks like they were torturing her… still trying to wear her down.”

  “She’s lucky to be alive.”