The Ancients: Book 3 in the Cedarstone Chronicles

by Sean Stone

  "How did they even find this place?" Clara asked as the thought occurred to her.

  Phil shrugged. "Determination I suppose. She never made it in, though. We met them in the tunnel on their way in. We should have let them in, at least then the protection spells would have trapped them inside. We could have captured them all."

  "If they didn't kill everyone first," Jamal said.

  "Before we do anything we need to speak to Richie or Victor and find out what the meaning of all this is," said Phil. "I would usually wait until night time, but I think this is too serious to wait. They showed us no respect so they've lost the same courtesy. Jamal take your team over there this morning and get some answers. Clara, I want your team to go too. If it was a declaration of war then I can't have any of you walking into a trap."

  "Alright, we'll get on it then," Jamal said. The two of them went to stand, but Phil stopped them.

  "That wasn't the only reason I called you in here." They sat back down. "Your relationship has come to my attention," he said awkwardly. Clara could tell by the smug look on Sidney's face that he had discovered it and told Phil to deal with it. Sidney had his own operatives all over the town gathering intel. One of them must have seen she and Jamal together.

  "Okay," Clara said. There was no point in denying it.

  "Usually, this sort of thing would not be allowed," Sidney cut in. "Office relationships are… problematic. But I am willing to make an exception. The normal rules hardly apply to this town."

  "So, it's okay for us to…" Jamal left it hanging.

  "So long as you fill out the necessary paperwork," Sidney said. Clara had learned over the last couple of weeks that Sidney loved paperwork. "Speaking of, Deputy Director Rasul, I cannot seem to find your report regarding William's murder anywhere?"

  "I didn't write one," Jamal informed him casually.

  "An incident such as that requires a written report, Deputy Director Rasul. The events must be recorded," Sidney said. Clara wondered if he was going to use Jamal's full title ever time he referred to him; if so they probably wouldn't get out of the office until lunchtime.

  "There's not much to write. Kristen and James walked in and killed William." Jamal shrugged.

  "That is not sufficient. How exactly did it happen? We need a record."

  "Kristen shot William with one of the guns she found down here," Jamal said. Clara was sure that he'd said James had shot William when Victor had asked at the meeting.

  "Write it up," Sidney ordered, and then ushered them out.

  Once they were outside Clara turned to Jamal. "You told Victor that James killed William," she said.

  His eyebrows shot up. "Did I? I must've got muddled." He was lying. There was something about him that wasn't quite right. His face just screamed of guilt. But why would he lie?

  "Okay," Clara said, not wanting to push the matter right now. Maybe he did just get muddled, or maybe he was hiding something. Either way, they had enough to deal with without looking for more problems.

  Clara and Jamal were shown to a booth by the human barmaid at Morgan's. Their four subordinates remained by the door, ready to intervene if needed. The barmaid had tried to get them to return tonight but Jamal had insisted, somewhat aggressively, and she had gone to wake Richie. Clara was not looking forward to the consequences. Richie had a less than savoury reputation and from what she'd learned he did not like being told what to do. As if to confirm her thoughts the door crashed open and Richie stormed into the room. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mess and he was only wearing a pair of jeans. For somebody who was rumoured to be roughly a thousand years ago, he was in pretty good shape.

  "What the fuck are you doing here?" He demanded, stomping over to the booth. Clara and Jamal remained seated. Clara was trying to mimic Jamal's calm composure, but she couldn't stop her fear from creeping up. She wondered if they would be able to stop Richie if he tried to attack them. There was only one of him compared to their eight. Two sorcerers, two werewolves, two humans. The moon was waning which meant that the werewolves had barely more strength than a human right now. If Richie attacked it fell on Clara and Jamal to fight him off. Was their magic strong enough to hold an ancient vampire? Clara's almost certainly was not but Jamal's might be. With any luck, they wouldn't need to find out.

  "I'll assume you don't know about Isabella's attack on our headquarters last night?" Jamal said, still calm. Richie narrowed his eyes and looked between Clara and Jamal. It was clear in that moment that he did know about it.

  "Covert mission?" Clara asked. "I take it they weren't supposed to get caught?"

  Richie glanced at the other agents by the door and then slid into the booth. "Are you here to make some arrests?" he asked. He wasn't scared, but Clara could see some concern in his face. He didn't want a war any more than they did.

  "We're just investigating," said Jamal. "Something is going to need to be done, though. We can't ignore this."

  "You could," Richie suggested, his eyebrows raised.

  "We all made an agreement at that meeting," Clara reminded him. "We're supposed to be working together."

  "That agreement will never hold. All you're doing is playing a more dangerous game than Langford did. You have weapons that you can use on us. Nobody in this town will rest until that threat is no more. Least of all me," Richie said.

  "So you were after the weapons," Jamal clarified.

  "What happened to my people?"

  "Two captured, the rest got away," said Jamal.

  "I want them back."

  "That's not going to happen." Jamal and Richie locked eyes and stared at each other for some time. Neither one of them backing down.

  "Look, we want a peaceful resolution to this," Clara said, bringing an end to the staring contest. "But we can't just ignore the fact that you attacked us."

  "There can be no peace whilst you've got a cache of weapons," Richie insisted.

  "The weapons are nothing special," Clara said. "Bullets made of wood, bullets filled with the blood of the dead. Stuff like that. You could break in and take it all. But we can just make more. Those weapons are things anybody could create."

  "Well you would say that," he retorted. "You mean to tell me that people have been working in those labs since the days your granddad was young and they've come up with nothing new?"

  "There's nothing that we could use specifically on vampires," Jamal said. "If you don't believe us feel free to use your mind tricks to get the truth out of us."

  "As if you can't counteract my mind manipulation."

  "The two of us can. The newbies over by the door cannot. Get the truth from them," Jamal offered. He was lying, all of them had been using the drugs they'd found in the lab that nullified vampiric mind tricks.

  Richie eyed Jamal suspiciously. "Alright. So your weapons aren't that savvy. Return my people and we'll call it quits."

  "You'll stop trying to take them?" Clara asked.

  "You have my word."

  "That's not good enough," Jamal said. "We need more. You attacked us and there have to be repercussions."

  "What repercussions?" Richie snapped.

  "You've got over a hundred vampires, right?" Jamal asked. Richie nodded. "If you were to help us gather intel then we can return your people and forget about this incident. Nothing too much, just every now and then when we need to know something, you can help us find out."

  "My clan is not your bitch," Richie said. "But I know someone who can be. Charles Hammond, one of my elders. He has a talent for getting information others would want kept secret. You can get all the intel out of him you like. But you can never try to use anyone else in this clan."

  Jamal nodded. "Alright. I'll run it by the director and get back to you tonight. If two freshly released vampires come home you'll know we've got a deal."

  "First, I want to ask you something," Clara said quickly, wanting to capitalise on the opportunity. "Do you know who the disciples are?"

  "Zander already asked me that l
ast week. I told him I don't."

  "I think you lied, though. You didn't want to help us back then. Things are different now. If you want us to trust you then you need to give us a show of good faith."

  Richie considered her words quietly, looking at her intently. "You're grandfather was a tough negotiator you know. I see you picked up the trait. Shame it skipped a generation. I'll tell you what you want to know."

  "Just give me the names," said Clara. She tried to ignore the slight at her father.

  Richie beckoned to the barmaid who brought over a pen and paper. He immediately began scribbling.

  "Can we really trust this list?" Jamal asked. He seemed agitated which was odd considering how calm he'd been so far. "I mean, what makes your intel so reliable?"

  "I have a friend who's been into the house," Richie said.

  "Who?" Jamal demanded. There was definitely panic about him. It was like when he'd lost his cool with Adam at the meeting.

  "Lydia Aramaya, not that it's any of your business," Richie said harshly. He finished writing and handed the paper to Clara. "It's not complete, but it's the best I can do."

  Clara looked at the sheet of paper. Some of the names had surnames, others did not. "There are only eleven names on this list," she said.

  "Yes. Lydia's only ever seen eleven disciples. It's a big house they're all living in. You should consider yourself lucky she's got that many names. Now, I need to get some sleep. You can show yourselves out."

  Once outside Jamal snatched the paper and quickly scanned the names on it. Once he'd read it he seemed to relax.

  "What is wrong with you?" Clara demanded, snatching it back.

  "I just don't trust him," Jamal said.

  "You only got funny when I started asking for this? What is it you're scared of?" Fear of the Thirteen was understandable, but this was something else.

  "I'm scared for you," he said. "Every bit of progress we make with this is another step into danger you take. Last time you went after Nick you almost died. If I hadn't got to you when I had you wouldn't be here right now. I don't want to lose you, Clara," he said, looking at her pleadingly.

  "Jamal," she sighed. "I'm not going to die. I'm not going to rush in unprepared like I did last time. I've learned my lesson. That's what all this is about. Gathering intel and coming up with a proper plan. I'm not going to do anything on my own. Just try not to worry. Okay?"

  He nodded. "Okay. Are you coming back to the station?"

  "No. There's somewhere else I need to go first."

  "Where?"

  "I need to see if Adam has made any progress with whatever he was up to." She half expected him to insist on joining her so he could find out more about Adam's plan. She would have refused. He was likely the last person Adam wanted to see.

  "Alright, stay safe," he said, and then he led his team away.

  "Kegan," Clara beckoned him over. "Something about him isn't right. He's hiding something and I want to know what it is. Tail him. Don't get caught."

  "Yes, boss," he said and hurried off after Jamal. There was something about Jamal that just wasn't right. The sooner she knew what it was, the sooner she could relax again. In the meantime, she knew somebody else who could provide answers. She wasn't going to see Adam, she was going to Wiccan Wares. Alistair had told her not to visit Katrina again, but Clara was going to anyway. She'd risk his anger. She needed to know what Jamal was hiding. Why he lied about who killed William.

  With Charlie in tow, she headed off to the shop. She pushed on the old green door when she arrived but for the first time, it stayed firmly shut. She took a step back and saw the large sign that had been stuck over the knocker. It read:

  Closed for the foreseeable future.

  She knocked and waited but after several minutes there was no answer and she left. The thing was Katrina was a seer which meant that the foreseeable future was a very long time.

  *

  As James made his way back to Bartholomew Road he wondered how things were going to go from here on. His reunion with Dean had come much sooner than he'd anticipated and it had not gone at all the way he imagined it would and it had not gone at all the way he'd expected.

  He stayed on the floor staring stupidly up at his son. What was he doing here? How had he killed that vampire with such ease? It was an odd feeling to realise that he was not the only one who had some explaining to do. Dean was going to have to provide him with some answers as well.

  "Get up, Dad. More might come," Dean said ominously. He made no move to help James rise.

  "There aren't any more coming," James said, as he pulled himself up. He'd smell them if they were.

  Dean looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Even so, let's go. We should go somewhere we can talk."

  Only one place came to James' mind. "Let's go home."

  Fifteen minutes later they were back at the family house, not that it had been a family house for a long time now. Where James hadn't been living in it for so long it had an emptiness to it. It stunk of abandonment. They went through to the kitchen where James made them each a black coffee and then they sat down at the table. Neither of them spoke for a good few minutes. It had been years since they'd spoken and even longer since they'd seen each other. The situation was awkward, to say the least.

  "So you can do magic now?" Dean asked. It was impossible to tell what he thought of that.

  James nodded. "Yes."

  "Hm." Dean nodded. "How did that happen? I thought the only way to get magic was to… You killed witches didn't you?"

  "I had to. Nick said he would cure me. I wouldn't have to be a werewolf anymore," James explained. He knew that one day he would have to explain all this to Dean. He knew that he wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. But he wasn't prepared to do it so soon. He was in at the deep end without an armband in sight.

  "Who's Nick?" Dean asked.

  "Nickolas Blackwood. Leader of the Thirteen."

  "Never heard of them," Dean said. That was a relief, at least he didn't know how despicable the group's reputation was; James might be able to play it down.

  "They're a group of warlocks. Nick said if I joined them he'd make me human again."

  "Judging from the magic I saw you throwing around I'd say you're not very human right now," said Dean.

  "No. Nick couldn't cure me. The only way to stop the transformations is to use magic."

  "Sounds like a shitty deal."

  "It's the best on offer," James said, too scared to meet his son's eye.

  "So, how long do you have to stay with them. Until you die?"

  "That would be a long time," James said in a throwaway manner, and instantly wished that he hadn't. "Just until Nick finishes his plan. He said as soon as it's finished I'm free to go."

  Dean put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. "I don't know what to make of all this."

  "What about you? You killed a vampire. Where did you learn to do that? What are you even doing here?" James asked. It was his turn for some answers.

  Dean raised his head. "You didn't send a birthday card this year. We haven't spoken for years, but you always send a card. When it didn't turn up I thought you might be dead so I came to check."

  "I didn't think you'd care if I died," James said.

  "Of course, I would. Why wouldn't I?" Dean asked defensively.

  "Because you hate me."

  Dean stared at James in disbelief. "I don't hate you."

  "You left Dean. I understood why after what I did. But you wouldn't talk to me. You haven't for years," James said. He could feel himself getting emotional.

  "I thought you didn't want to talk to me. I thought you hated me," Dean said and his words smacked James in the heart like an iron fist.

  "You're my son. How could I ever hate you? Why would I hate you?" James practically shouted.

  "Because of what I did. I was stupid. I went to the woods that night. If it wasn't for me you would never have gotten bit by that werewolf. I ruined your life," De
an said. Tears were falling from his own eyes. James couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd missed out on eight years of his son's life and all because of a misunderstanding.

  "You did not ruin my life. Don't ever say that again. You're the best thing that ever happened to me and losing you was the worst. Everything I have been doing with Nick and everything else has been to try and get you back. I wanted to be human so I would no longer be a danger to you. I thought if I was safe, if this town was safe, then you might come back," James explained. He wiped his tears away. "Or even if I couldn't fix the town, if I could fix myself then I could leave. I wanted to come and find you."

  "I left because I was scared after the first night when you turned. But that isn't why I stayed away. I thought you hated me for what I'd turned you into. I thought you didn't want me around. And I felt so guilty. I couldn't even bring myself to talk to you anymore."

  "You have nothing to feel guilty for. You didn't turn me into anything," James said. He took a mouthful of his coffee, but it was already cold and he pushed the cup away. "If I hated you why would I phone you all the time?" he asked.

  "Because you had to. Fatherly duty." Dean shrugged.

  "I did it because I love you, Dean. That's the one thing about me that has never changed. Everything else has changed, but I have never stopped loving you."

  Dean opened this mouth but said nothing. He closed his mouth again and gave a quick nod. James guessed that was his way of accepting what James and said.

  "You didn't answer my question," James said. "You killed that vampire. How?"

  Dean looked away and sighed. "I'm a hunter, Dad."

  "No, no. No!" James screamed the word the last time he said it and slammed his fist into the table. He let out an accidental bit of magic which coached the wood. Dean didn't even flinch. "Everything I did was to protect you from the supernatural. And you end up caught up in it anyway!"

  "I didn't want to get caught up in this but vampires and werewolves and everything else are not exclusive to Cedarstone. They're all over the fucking country!"