The Ancients: Book 3 in the Cedarstone Chronicles

by Sean Stone

  "She was attacked last night. But she can't remember what happened," explained Eric.

  "How does she know it happened then?" Serena asked. Eric couldn't begrudge her the question, he'd asked the same one.

  "She just does. There were signs of a struggle. Look, I've already asked all these questions. Just leave it. I'm going to get one of my guys to look into it. I think magic was involved but I need more info."

  "Keep me informed," Serena said as she made her way out of the kitchen.

  Eric slid out his phone to call Gus. Gus was the closest thing he had to a friend and if he could trust anybody to handle this matter it was Gus.

  *

  Richie helped Lydia lower the two coffins into the generously dug grave and then using the excavator they buried them fifteen feet under. The dried out remains of Cain and Ramsay Aramaya were inside the coffins and now they were out of Richie's and Lydia's lives. Richie would be lying if he said he wasn't massively relieved to have seen the last of them but he would have preferred to drive stakes through their hearts. Lydia and Michael were not willing to end their father and brother's lives for good, however. In a few months, a fake headstone would be laid with somebody else's name on it and nobody would ever know where to find the two oldest and most sadistic vampires in the world. Only Richie and Lydia knew. Richie imagined that Lydia would tell her brother Michael where they'd been buried, but that was it. Michael had wanted to be here tonight but Osiris was keeping him close; worried that if both he and Lydia went out together then they wouldn't return. Apparently, they had Osiris' blood in their veins and could provide him with a power boost if Set came calling before Osiris was ready for him, like two giant energy boosters. So far all had been quiet on the Set front. Victor had made no progress on finding the ancient and apparently the ancient had no desire to come out of hiding.

  "Well that's that then," Lydia said quietly, her voice breaking the silence. "We're all free of them."

  "Now we just need to be free of Osiris," Richie replied.

  "One step at a time," Lydia replied, and the pair fell back into silence. They stood gazing at the grave. Richie wondered how long it would hold them for. He could guard the grave for his entire existence but sooner or later they would rise to the surface somehow. The bad ones always did. He'd helped to trap Nick fifty-four years ago and now Nick was walking around right as rain again. They always came back. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy the victory whilst it did last.

  Lydia sighed loudly and Richie glanced at her. She was looking down at the grave with a sadness in her eye. They were her family he supposed. He wondered how she could have turned out so pleasing to the eye when her siblings and father were so ugly. Or was she just as ugly as they were and his feelings clouded his sight? He reached out to take her hand, but as soon as his fingers touched hers she pulled her arm away.

  "Richie don't," she said.

  "Why not?" he asked. He was getting fed up of this game. He knew there was something between them and he wouldn't let her deny it any longer.

  "I don't feel the same way as you," she said, turning to face him.

  "I think you do, Lydia. I can feel it between us. A passion that I've never felt with any other girl I've been with." And he'd been with many girls.

  "There is nothing between us, Richie."

  "There was," he said, recalling the old days. They'd been together for months back when he'd served the Cult. Not together properly, but sleeping together in secret.

  "Yes, and do you remember how that ended?" she asked. He did remember. He'd never be able to forget that night.

  "I do. I finally summoned up the courage to tell you that I love you. And you ended everything," Richie looked away, the old hurt coming back again.

  "I had to. I couldn't return your feelings."

  "You're a liar," Richie said bluntly. "You were a liar then and you're liar now. I know that you loved me back then. I could feel it. I could see it in your eyes every time we kissed, every time we even looked at each other I could see and feel everything. I know that you loved me then, and I know that you love me now. So don't bother denying it. Just tell me why you really had to reject me?"

  Lydia sighed again. She turned round on the spot, running her hands through her hair. When she faced Richie again her eyes were small and puffy. "Because of him." She pointed at the grave. "What do you think would have happened if he'd found out? He would have killed you. Or me. Or both of us. That is why I could not… cannot love you."

  "He's gone now," Richie whispered, pointing at the grave to prove his point. "He can't kill anybody." Lydia said nothing. Richie stepped forward and she didn't move. He leaned in and still she remained where she was. His lips met hers and she didn't pull away. Her lips opened. She kissed him back. He went to take her in his arms and then she pushed him away. Her strength was more than double his own and it was pointless trying to fight.

  "No, Richie. I can't," she said, tears streaking down her face. She shook her head and then sped off into the night.

  Richie was in a foul mood when he got back to the manor. Victor was nowhere to be found, no doubt he was out looking for Set again. They were never going to find him so they might as well give up. When Richie got to his sitting room he found Isabella laying on the sofa waiting. He could tell from her skimpy dress and the way she was laying that this was going to be another one of her pathetic seduction attempts.

  "Since you're here relaxing can I assume that you've relieved SIT of any weapons that could do us harm?" he demanded. He went straight for this blood supply and began downing it from the bottle.

  "I'm working on it," she spoke in a soft, sultry voice, clearly not picking up on his mood. She sat up to face him properly.

  "And what are you doing to work on it?" he said, standing a fair distance from her.

  She leaned over so that he had a more than generous view of her breasts which were barely covered. "This and that," she said.

  "What precisely are you doing? I only ask because it doesn't look like you're getting much done whilst you're lounging on my sofa like a common strumpet!" Towards the end of the sentence, he lost it and shouted at her.

  She sat up properly and covered her chest a little with her arms. "I don't…"

  "Answer me. What are you doing?" Richie said in a calmer but no less firm tone.

  "I've got people out looking," she said feebly. It was a rare occasion when Isabella was submissive but this was one of those occasions.

  "Out looking? Out fucking looking? We know where the weapons are. They're in the fucking Research labs," he snapped.

  "But we don't know where exactly," she retorted, some of her old feistiness returning.

  "Take your team right now and turn that building upside down until you have the fucking weapons."

  "And what if we come across SIT agents?"

  "Do whatever it takes to bring me those weapons. Now go!" he ordered. She shot him one last filthy look and then stormed out of the room. Once the door closed behind her he launched the bottle across the room. It shattered on the wall, covering the light brick with dark red blood. Still unsatisfied he smashed his foot through the antique coffee table. The door opened and one of his guys poked his head in.

  "Everything alright, Richie?" he asked, concerned.

  "Yes," Richie hissed, lifting his foot out of the ruined table.

  "Anything I can do?" he offered.

  "You know what, actually there is." It was time that something actually went Richie's way. It was time to let off at least some of the steam he'd been building up. "Get a couple of guys and go and find James Tenson. Bring him to me."

  "In what condition?"

  "So long as he's alive you can break him as much as you need to. Just get him here."

  The guy nodded and left and then Richie went off to find some alcohol. Any would do, he just needed to remove certain thoughts from his mind.

  *

  James enjoyed the cool night air as he walked down the street.
He didn't have a destination in mind, he was just glad to be out of the house. It was a big house, but being shut away with the same twelve people for weeks was not a nice experience. Nick had not said he could leave, but he was a grown man and was not going to be confined to a house. Nick had explained his concerns about anybody leaving, but really, what was going to happen? They were all immortal, and all incredibly powerful. Only an idiot would start anything with them. Besides, if he encountered any serious trouble he could just teleport back to the house.

  He was getting more skilled with his powers. His training had continued over the weeks and yesterday he'd very nearly bested Kristen in a duel. She'd taken the victory in the end, though. He was getting on with all of the thirteen, except Casper who kept to himself, but he'd grown closest to Kristen. He was worrying that he might be developing feelings for the warlock and she for him. It was a problem because it meant that once it was all over it would be harder for him to walk away. And he needed to walk away.

  He still had no idea how he was going to rebuild his relationship with his son Dean. They hadn't spoken in years, not properly. When Dean had first moved away James had phoned him every day. After a while, Dean stopped answering and the calls went down to once a week, then once a month, until finally James only called on his birthday. Once Dean had become an adult even that one yearly phone call stopped. James still sent a birthday card, but that was the only contact they had and Dean probably threw it away without even reading it. James had no idea how he was going to get his son to stop hating him. It seemed an impossible task. Of course, he understood why he felt that way. James had lied. He'd kept the truth about Cedarstone from his family. He'd put them all in danger by getting involved in it all and he'd gotten involved in the worst possible way. He'd tried to control the supernatural races. His wife had told him that the council could not stay on top forever. She'd warned him that it would all go south one day. That was why she'd left. She'd tried to take Dean then, but James had threatened to kill her. Years later when James had saved Dean from a werewolf attack, Dean finally learned the truth about the town. James explained everything to him. He should've known better. Who in their right mind would tell a fifteen-year-old all that? Dean didn't leave right away, though. It was when the full moon came, revealing to both father and son that James had been turned into a werewolf during the attack. James had lost control of himself. The first time a man turns into a wolf he turns feral. Very little of the human is left. It took several transformations for James to hold onto some of himself in his wolf state but even now he wasn't properly in control. That first night he'd tried to attack Dean. Dean got away unscathed but in the morning he left to live with his mother in Surrey. That had been the last time James had seen him. He'd seen pictures on Facebook, but it wasn't the same, and he couldn't even see many pictures because Dean would not accept his friend request. Somehow he had to persuade Dean to stop hating him. He would have to explain how he was not just a werewolf now, but also an immortal warlock. He had considered keeping it a secret, but secrets had torn his family apart in the first place. Honesty was best.

  James turned the corner and instantly smelled them. Vampires. Some werewolves claim that vampires have no smell, but if you are attuned to it then you can recognise it. Nothing is odourless. Vampires smell odd; like the inside of a fridge. That was the only way James could describe it. He stopped on the pavement and cocked his head to the side. They were creeping, barely making a sound, but he had enhanced hearing and could just make out their footsteps. There were three of them. He sniffed the air again. All men. He turned, but only saw two vampires. The other one was likely coming up behind him.

  "What do you want?" he asked calmly. He was confident that he could handle three vampires. Unless they were part of the Cult, that would be another matter entirely, but judging by their non-uniform attire he assumed they were not. The vampires in the Cult of Osiris all wore a white crook and flail uniform and they were all incredibly strong and fast.

  "Richie would like a word," one of them said. He was tensing up to attack.

  "Why doesn't he come and see me then, or better yet he could phone?" James said, preparing himself. All that training with the disciples was going to come in handy. He'd only been in one fight since joining them and then his magic hadn't been strong enough and Clara Winters had almost killed him. This time, things would be different. He considered teleporting back to the house, but he didn't want to. He wanted to teach them a lesson.

  "He's more accustomed to people coming to him. Now, are you going to come willingly or…" he let the sentence trail off.

  "I'll go with or," James replied. He whipped up a shield just as the first vampire came at him. He bounced off the invisible wall and landed flat on his back. "When did you lot get so bold? I remember when you'd all avoid me if you saw me on the street," James said, remembering the good old days.

  "You don't have the same leverage you did back then. You're not in charge anymore. You're about to learn that the hard way," came the reply. The third vampire grabbed James from behind where there was no shield. He flung him into the wall at full strength. James hit the wall and a flare of pain shot down his side. He quickly moved out of the way of another attack. He pointed at the attacking vampire and a stream of fire shot from his palm, snatching the vampire in its path. The flaming vampire ran into the road screaming and collapsed as the fire burnt away his flesh. When the screams subsided James knew he was dead. The remaining two vampires regarded James warily. They obviously hadn't expected him to be so powerful.

  "Things aren't as different as you thought, eh?" James jibed, a smile spreading his lips. "If anything I'm more powerful than I was before. I'm one of the Thirteen now. Don't you realise how fucking stupid you're being? You attack me you attack us all and do you really want the Thirteen coming after you?"

  The vampires looked at each other, contemplating what James had said. "Well, we've already attacked you now. So we might as well finish. One vampire ran at James head on. He hit him with the same fire attack he'd used on the other and sent him running away burning. Before he could turn the other vampire shoved him to the floor, jabbing something into his neck as he did. James grabbed at the thing protruding from his skin and saw that it was a needle. He flicked his wrist out to burn the vampire but nothing happened.

  "I injected you with iron," the vampire said. "Now the fights a bit fairer. Although werewolf strength against vampire strength isn't much of a contest is it? Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you, Richie said he wants you alive. But he said I can break you as much as I like and considering you just killed my friends I'd like to break you a lot."

  "Why does he want me?" James demanded. He'd done nothing to Richie.

  "Because you killed William," the vampire replied.

  "No, I didn't." Jamal had killed William as far as James was aware.

  "Tell it to Richie," he said and advanced. He'd taken only a single step when the sharp wooden tip of a stake jutted through his chest. He screamed in anguish as his skin greyed and his life extinguished. Within seconds he was a cold husk on the floor and standing right behind him was a young man with familiar ginger hair and light stubble on his cheeks and chin.

  James was too shocked to speak. He only managed a single word, "Dean?"

  The young man looked down at him an expression that was impossible to read. "Hello, Dad."

  *

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Clara and Jamal staggered their entrances when they got to work. They always did when they spent the night together. The last thing they wanted was everyone at work finding out about them and making a big deal out of it. At first, it hadn't been a big deal but things had changed. Their bit of fun had progressed into a full on relationship. They spent most nights either at his place or hers. Once a week Jamal liked to have a day to himself, but other than that they were together. It was the last thing Clara had expected, but now that it was happening she couldn't imagine anything else. With all that was going on i
n her life she had no idea how she'd managed to end up in a relationship.

  Jamal was still training her with magic. She might have achieved control but she still needed to increase her powers. As it was she wouldn't last in a fight against any of the Thirteen even if she got one of them on their own. Her powers were at least ten years under-developed thanks to the curse and she had a lot of catching up to do. Jamal said she was progressing fast, but she wasn't satisfied. She wanted to progress faster. It barely felt like her powers were growing at all. She wanted to be able to fight Nick and she didn't want to wait. Jamal said it would likely take years, that she might never be strong enough to fight him, but she was determined to prove him wrong.

  When she arrived in the main office Kegan told her Phil wanted to speak to her in his office. She threw her bag down on her desk and made her way through. Inside Jamal was already there, talking to Phil about something and Sidney was standing behind Phil, leaning on the wall with his hands tucked in his pockets.

  "Clara, have a seat," Phil said, gesturing to the chair beside Jamal.

  "What's going on?" she asked, taking the seat.

  "Phil was just telling me that we got attacked by vampires last night," Jamal said, and Clara's jaw dropped.

  "What? Why would Richie do that?" she asked, flabbergasted.

  "I don't think he did," Phil said shaking his head. "The attack was led by Isabella Redmane, and we all know how impulsive and disobedient she can be. My guess is she was acting of her own accord. We've got two of them locked up in holding, but they aren't talking."

  "What happened to the others?" Clara asked. If any of the vampires had been killed it could start a war.

  "Isabella and the rest got away. We might have captured them had the vampires on our team not been so reluctant to act," Phil said grimly.

  "That is the problem with using the town's own people to enforce the laws," Sidney pointed out rather snidely. "They tend to be unwilling to fight their own kind."