The Dresdan Coven Trilogy

by Amber Ella Monroe

  Eli was right. These were not rogues. They were Dresdan-kind.

  As the last of the coven members gathered in the lot next to the bus station, a thick mist began to seep between their boots where they stood, indicating that uninvited vampires were there but had not yet materialized.

  “Show yourselves,” Vicq demanded.

  “We don’t come in peace. We’re here to take all of you in.” The reply echoed around them, but the source of it was still not identified with so many invisible intruders around them.

  “In? Where?”

  “Russo.”

  Vicq grimaced. “We’ve denounced ties to Russo. We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Then we have orders to kill.”

  After that declaration, the rivals revealed themselves, and all hell broke loose. There were at least two Dresdan Soldiers for every one of Vicq’s coven members. It was probably only by chance that they were out in the middle of nowhere at a secluded bus station. This was a sight not meant for human eyes. Vampires going head to head with other vampires. It only showed that they were threats to each other and uncontrollable. Vicq’s coven members attacked with blistering force. They were all intent on not being forced to serve Master Vampire Russo, whose hatred for humanity had become so great that he failed to punish rogues who killed humans unjustly. Russo’s train of thought, tactics, and missions weren’t like the former Master. A Master who’d respected human life and outlined boundaries his followers adhered to in order to keep the peace. But Russo had betrayed and murdered the prior Master—a Dresdan who’d also been Vicq’s Maker. And for that one simple act, Vicq would never acquiesce to Russo or refer to him as Master. Vicq had severed ties with Russo and fled the Court.

  Three minutes into the group fight, and Vicq was certain more blood had been shed than what had been consumed that night. Evidence of the carnage lay in puddles in the parking lot, and on Vicq’s skin and under his fingernails.

  He had no taste for their blood—which no doubt would’ve made him stronger. The only bloodlust he favored that night was that which thirsted for destruction and the death of those who threatened his existence.

  When only one of Russo’s Soldiers remained alive, the night grew silent as Vicq’s coven members glanced around to make sure they were all accounted for. No one under Vicq’s leadership had perished. Good.

  Melrose dragged the surviving Soldier and forced him to kneel in front of Vicq.

  Still panting and heaving air into his lungs, Vicq wiped the blood off his hands onto the Soldier’s shirt. “What is the penalty for failing to execute orders, Soldier?”

  Vicq was only taunting the vampire. It was too bad he couldn’t speak. Melrose had already ripped out his voice box and her nails were dug deeply into his shoulders, holding him upright.

  Russo’s brand was embedded in the flesh of the Solider’s chest, and seeing it now through the ripped remnants of his clothes caused rage to erupt in Vicq’s heart. Images of the vampire who’d made him flooded back to Vicq. Zaket had once been Master of the Dresdan Court until he gave up hope of leading a unified Court, and Russo, his most loved Superior, had betrayed him. Vicq’s Maker was dead because of Russo. One day he’d avenge his Maker’s untimely demise.

  Vicq struck, severing the Soldier’s head. It landed some ten feet away with the littered parts of the others. He’d probably done the Soldier a favor. The penalty for failing to execute an order was death. Dozens of Russo’s Soldiers had failed tonight.

  Vicq looked out at his coven members and loyal followers. “Good work. Let’s regroup and get back to sanctuary.”

  Chapter 7

  Vicq revved the motor of the Ashton Martin and made it through a yellow light only a millisecond before the signal turned red. This particular city district was known for its high crime rate, so he had to watch out for swarming cops and FBI agents. He didn’t need to attract attention at the moment. Especially since he was hot on the trail of a black van belonging to the agency he had come to hate so much. No insignia marked the van to identify any affiliation. A normal corporation would have something like that on a company car to market themselves to the public—but not this corporation. Instead, Vicq was able to confirm that the van belonged to the vampire slaughterers by the distinct license plate numbers on the front and back of the vehicle. The plates always began with the letter D, followed by the number 5, and then a series of other distinct numbers and letters. Any time he had ever come in contact with a vehicle belonging to this network, the coding was all the same.

  Vicq had just left an antique shop after checking out the new arrivals. He’d found the place by doing a search online seeking more vintage wooden models for his collection. It was only coincidence that he was forced to take a detour that brought him near an orphanage for teen boys where he first spotted the van parked. As he was driving by, the occupants of the van had just concluded their business. The driver had rolled the van door shut before Vicq could get a good look inside. He found their actions strange and highly suspicious. Of course, everything about that organization was suspicious and deceitful.

  Vicq followed the van for another twenty minutes, not sure where it would lead. Finally it turned into the parking lot of North Heights Health Clinic. To avoid blowing his cover, he drove by the clinic without stopping. He circled the area, parked the vehicle, and used his abilities to shift through the atmosphere.

  The clinic parking area was empty, except for a couple stray vehicles near the front and the van he’d followed there, which had been strategically parked near the back. The clinic’s operating hours were displayed on the door indicating that it was closed. Most of the lights were turned off inside.

  Vicq blended with the shadows and crept to the backside of the building where the van remained idle. The driver had already exited, yet another male sat waiting on the passenger side. A sturdier man wearing blue nursing scrubs came outside from the back door of the clinic to meet the driver. He carried some type of medal box in his hand. Vicq also noticed that the driver had a suitcase. There was a handshake between the men and then a few words were exchanged.

  Vicq honed in, calling on his abilities again to pick up on the conversation despite the distance.

  “…the heart.” The man in the nursing scrubs had just finished talking.

  “Here’s half of the cash as requested and another delivery.” He flipped the suitcase open momentarily to reveal stacks of money. “Three adolescent boys. One with the same blood type as the previous one. If you get us more organs, we’ll double the payout.”

  “I’ll need more than double,” the man in the scrubs replied.

  “You need to call the Heads about that. You want ‘em or not? They ain’t dead yet, just like you requested.” The driver gestured to the rear of the van. “They’ve all been drugged and are unconscious. That makes it easy for you, right?”

  Vicq’s blood boiled below the surface and his fangs thrust downward as he realized what was about to transpire. Just earlier, he’d watched the van leave an orphanage and end up at a clinic. Now the men were talking about hearts, adolescent boys, and death. This didn’t seem right at all to Vicq.

  The man in scrubs handed the driver the metal box. “Give me my money….and the boys. I’ve got more bidders lined up. You tell ‘em to triple my payout or I’ll take another deal.”

  They made the physical exchange and then the driver produced a set of keys from his pocket and opened the back of the van. Sure enough, there were three boys lying motionless on the floor of the van. The boys had to be no more than thirteen or fourteen years old. Pubescent young boys. Human. Innocent. And they were about to be taken advantage of, and possibly have their organs harvested and sold to the highest bidder.

  The men had already begun to drag the boy’s bodies from the vans.

  Vicq cringed as he processed the situation and acted without another thought. He pulled out a Kalis dagger from the sheath in his trench coat and shifted from the man in scrubs to the driver at the
foot of the door. He slit their throats one by one. The execution was so sift that the only noise Vicq registered was two limp bodies hitting the pavement and gurgling sounds as they suffocated to death.

  The passenger in the van was oblivious to what had just happened, or maybe he really wasn’t interested in doing his job anyway. His eyes bulged outward in surprise when Vicq grabbed the van handle and tore the door off the frame. The man shook in fear as his gaze shifted up and down over Vicq. A rubber strip was wrapped around his meaty arm, and he held a syringe filled with clear blue liquid in another. He’d been in there shooting up on those drugs while his partner transacted business. His eyes were glossed over and he seemed high as a kite. It was all the confirmation Vicq needed to conclude that whatever drugs were given to this agency’s employers, that it was a harmfully addictive.

  Vicq captured him by the shoulders, lifted him up out of the van, and buried his fangs into the man’s neck. This wasn’t a feeding. He despised taking blood from this scumbag, but he needed to know.

  These men worked for that shady organization like scouts. They were killers. They hunted down humans, handed them over to clinics funded by their organization, and brought the organs back to be used in some kind of research lab.

  Vicq hadn’t realized he had snapped the man’s neck until his blood flow began to dwindle, resulting in him having to make more of an effort to take memories. Content on the information he pulled from the criminal, he dropped him carelessly on the ground, and then circled back around to the side of the van where the boys were left. He checked their pulses. They were still alive. Drugged, but still breathing.

  At the back of the clinic, Vicq located the gas line and ripped it in two. It didn’t take him long to find a lighter in the glove compartment of the van. He torched the clinic. Usually he would watch as it burned to the ground, but not now. Dawn was approaching. He picked up the suitcase and moved the boys from the van to the back seat of his Ashton Martin. Because of the small interior, they were nearly piled one on top of the other. They were so drugged up that none of them seemed to care.

  This had gone too far. To what lengths would this vampire slaughtering agency go to achieve their self-serving agendas? Kill their own people? Why? For what? Wasn’t their mission to ensure continuity? Human continuity?

  Vicq drove almost thirty miles until he realized that the sun would rise soon. He contemplated letting them wake up to see him and to tell them what had happened, but he couldn’t keep the boys anyway. They were too young, but at least they were out of harm’s way. The orphanage had failed them. Just like his orphanage had failed him when he was just twelve years old. They’d kicked him out on the streets and said he could easily pass for sixteen and get a job. In a way, they were right. Laborers were needed everywhere in Mexico at the time, and most companies didn’t care about one’s age. At the time, Vicq had no choice and he labored for many years until his fate was turned around.

  He spotted a church steeple up ahead and steered the car up near the steps. There was one other car parked out front. An old Buick classic with a pink sticker on the back bumper that said: Jesus Saves.

  It was almost dawn. He needed to hurry.

  Vicq gathered the three young boys in his arms and grabbed the suitcase that was filled with the money he hadn’t used tonight, walked up to the oak double doors, and knocked.

  An old woman with stark white hair opened one of the doors. She wore a frilly pink and yellow dress and her lips were painted red. Her eyes widened as she glanced upward. Vicq could literally smell the fear rolling off her. The vein near her temple pulsed profusely. Her fingers shook on the doorknob.

  Vicq had tried to look human. Guess it didn’t work.

  She gasped. “Oh…”

  Smoke began to seep from Vicq’s skin. The sun was on the rise, burning straight through his flesh. He had to go. He could bolt with the boys still in his arms, but that wouldn’t do them any good.

  “A-are you the devil?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Are you here to kill me?”

  “No.”

  “You have children…” she whispered, her eyes sweeping across the load of boys in his arms. She looked surprised and flustered.

  “Is this were humans come for help and to be saved?” Vicq asked.

  “Y-y-yes,” the old lady stuttered.

  He crossed the threshold into the church and the woman stumbled aside, clutching at her heart. He placed the boys on one of the benches.

  “These boys are homeless. Will you take care of them?” he asked.

  The old lady nodded.

  Vicq handed the suitcase the lady. She jumped back, but then took about a minute or two to realize that he meant no harm.

  She took the suitcase from him. “Are you coming back for them?”

  “Si…. a su debido tiempo,” he replied. In due time.

  Vicq folded away to pursue darkness.

  Chapter 8

  A few days after Elaina and her crew executed the Haegert campus vampires, they were called to a meeting with one of the District heads and his direct report. They sat in a large conference room on one of headquarters’ middle levels. The sunshine passing through the large oversized windows filtered across the metal table, providing the only source of light as DH-3 and his direct report shuffled through some papers. Some of the blinds were closed, so half of the room was darker than the other.

  Elaina, D-209, D-0008, and D-57 were seated at one end of the table, handed manila folders that were stamped in red with the words highly-classified, and told to hold tight while they finalized some orders.

  DH-3 had a laptop on the table and was furiously typing away on the keyboard. Except for the distant squealing noise of the HVAC system, everything was silent. Before DH-3 even began to speak, Elaina knew that her team was here for something big. Perhaps it was the lucrative assignment that Elaina had been waiting for. An assignment that would earn her the recognition she wanted and deserved.

  “We’ve got a Risk Level 10 assignment for your unit. You’ve been selected based on the diversity of your skillsets. Your training in hand-to-hand combat, direct assault, search and rescue, and sniper missions will help you succeed in this mission. This is not a simple twenty-four-hour assignment. Level 10 assignments can take weeks, even months to complete because of the complexity of the case and the age of the vampire. These types of assignments are passed from one unit to the next until completion. Two units have already failed the mission, resulting in the loss of their lives in the line of duty.”

  DH-3 paused, linked his fingers together, and let the information sink in.

  “This isn’t a job for a larger unit. A four-member unit, such as yours, is perfect for this type of mission. We’re not seeking to mass execute here. Instead, we’re looking to capture one vampire in particular. He often roams alone. From our past experiences dealing with him, he’s wary of large crowds and will often stay away from them. We came close last time with only a three-member team. One misstep from one of the trackers resulted in us blowing our cover. This particular vampire knows that we’re after him.”

  DH-3 paused again. “Any questions thus far?”

  D-209 shuffled in his chair. “And you want us to execute him?”

  DH-3 nodded. “Capture, then execute. We’ll need you to drain as much of his blood as you can after the kill. In a previous botched mission, we were only able to salvage a fraction of his blood. He’s not a rogue. He’s full-blooded Dresdan, and he is powerful. If we can get at least three bags of his blood for research, the scientists believe they can move forward in testing their current theories. He’s proven to be too powerful to contain like some of the others we have here, but we want his blood and what we can salvage of his body.”

  “How do you know he’s full-blooded and powerful?” D-0008 questioned.

  “We caught him in action. Our cameras recorded less than thirty seconds, but from what we observed, he’s no ordinary vampire. He has connections
to one of the biggest vampire covens in the world, possibly what they call a Court, which is the main network and overruling body.”

  DH-3 gestured toward a projector, and his direct report reached across the table and flipped the switch. On the darker side, the projector displayed a video clip.

  The images on the screen were from one of the botched missions. All Elaina made out were flashes of yellow and white as gunfire blazed on the screen. She made out commands from former unit members as they tried to apprehend the vampire. The vampire itself appeared as one black shadow shifting from one place to the next as it attempted to avoid being wounded. The bullets and arrows were poisoned and could weaken any vampire. All that was required was one clean shot to a major organ or artery. In what seemed like a ten seconds, the gunfire receded, until finally, there was silence. And then the vampire looked right at the camera and the visual went black.

  “The van and trackers were reduced to ashes by the time a recovery unit discovered them,” DH-3 explained.

  “Damn,” D-0008 whispered.

  “Here’s a still shot where you can see his face,” DH-3 spoke as his direct report manned the controls of the projector.

  Elaina swallowed and leaned forward in her chair.

  The picture was fuzzy, but she could still make out his features. He was tall and slim in physique, and although she could not determine what he looked like, she noted that he had a prominent jawline and a defined facial structure. His hair was dark, maybe black. And it was long, hanging way past his shoulders.

  “It’s the only clear image we have of him. This is the Dresdan you’ll capture and drain. You’ll be assigned a van with a vault strong enough to hold and kill him. The mechanism inside the vault will puncture and drain him while he’s inside. The problem is getting him into the vault. You’ll have to weaken him, and that’s something the last units assigned to the case failed to do.” He pointed to the highly classified manila folders. “I suggest you study the contents, notes, and observations provided by both myself and the previous trackers. This will provide useful information into what has worked and what hasn’t worked.”