by Sean Stone
“Step in and prove it,” Connor invited.
“Do you think it’s wise to antagonise me before the truce is even official?” said Victor.
“We both know you’re here because Richie sent you. You can’t refuse my offer or you’ll piss him off and I heard that he’s already in a mood with you.”
Victor gave a small smile as he climbed up onto the apron, he stayed on the outside the ropes. “Why do you want to fight me?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I really want to go home and boast that I beat Victor Redmane, the great clan elder, or maybe it’s because I don’t like the way you came here and looked down your stuck up nose at me. You think you’re better than me and I want to put you in your place. Don’t worry, even if you manage to beat me, the truce still stands.”
“What makes you think I’m going to fight you?”
“I can see it in your eyes. Anger. A desire to shut me up. You can’t resist it, no one can, I’m an annoying guy,” Connor said and laughed.
Victor nodded. “Yes Connor, you are.”
Victor darted over the ropes and threw Connor down onto the mat. Before his foe could retaliate he put one hand around his throat and the other over his heart, pinning him down. Connor struggled but his strength was no match for Victor’s. Victor leaned in close so the two of them were eye to eye.
“I could kill you right now, I could pierce your flesh and rip out your heart and there’s nothing you could do to stop me,” he whispered, every syllable dripping with malice.
“My guys would kill you.”
“Mine would stop them before they got near me.”
“I have twice your number,” Connor hissed, his voice was choked where Victor’s hand was wrapped tightly round his throat. He wasn’t bothering to struggle, he knew it was pointless.
“It wouldn’t matter if you had thrice. The simple truth is, I am better than you Connor Digby, and not because I’m a vampire and not because you’re little more than a mongrel mutt. It’s because you’re an idiot, an imbecile, you are the lowest form of human intelligence. You rose the ranks to pack alpha on brute strength alone but to lead takes brain power, which you lack. So I won’t kill you, even if it would be doing the world a favour. I’ll let you live because I have a feeling that your own pack will kill you before your first year as alpha is over.”
In one movement Victor released Connor and sped out of the room. He was gone before Connor had even moved. Once outside he nodded curtly to the bewildered werewolves who’d come to protect their alpha and then he left. Putting Connor in his place had left him in very high spirits. It seemed that he’d been holding back quite a bit of anger that the werewolf had helped him release. Now, he could return to the manor in a good mood, and tell Richie of their new peace with the pack.
“The truce is done. Now we only need to deal with the sorcerers,” Victor told Richie as they walked to the throne room. It was one of those rare occasions when Richie had called an elder council meeting. “Are you going to name a fifth elder tonight?” he asked. Richie had said that he had some candidates to fill Jeremy’s seat but that had been months ago.
“Perhaps. How’s Isabella getting on with her Jeremy hunt?” Richie asked.
“She hasn’t reported any… Can you smell blood?” Victor said as they reached the doors to the throne room. Richie sniffed the air.
“Yes. Vampire blood,” he replied, and they shared a look of concern.
Richie pushed the doors open and the two of them marched inside. They were barely through the doors when they saw the source of the smell and froze. Pools of blood covered the stone floor and dismembered limbs had been scattered messily around the room. Victor scanned the remains quickly and was relieved to see that none of them looked like Isabella. Somebody had broken in and slaughtered the guards which Richie had positioned throughout the manor. There was nobody who could have reached the throne room and then killed vampires in such a savage way without getting got; the manor was too heavily guarded. Richie was a good deal more paranoid since being held prisoner for thirty years. It couldn’t have been Connor, Victor had only left him an hour ago and that wasn’t enough time to coordinate an attack like this and besides, Connor wasn’t smart enough. The sorcerers might have been able to get through the manor using magic to fight the guards but ripping vampires apart wasn’t their style. This was butchery pure and simple.
“They’re all dead,” Victor mumbled redundantly.
Three slow claps rang out through the hall making Victor jump. They were coming from the throne. Victor looked up. Sitting cockily on the throne at the top of the room, looking down on them was Nickolas Blackwood. Neither Victor nor Richie moved.
“They had a bit of a problem with me coming in here,” Nickolas said. “Now they don’t.”
There was a gasp from behind and Victor turned to see Isabella and Charles arriving for the meeting. They took in the mess and then saw who had made it.
“I thought you’d left town,” Isabella growled at Nickolas.
“I did leave town. I went on a trip. I was looking for something you see.” Nickolas rose from the throne and slowly descended the dais as he spoke. “I went to many countries on my travels, Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, Greece and even Egypt.”
“What do you want?” Richie demanded, stepping forward. Richie was not one to back down from a fight, even if he was certain he would lose. And against Blackwood, he would certainly lose.
“What do you think I might want, Richie?” Nickolas asked, smiling sardonically.
“If you’re here to kill me just get on with it, we’ve got a lot to do tonight,” Richie said, trying his best to be whimsical.
“I’m not going to kill you, Richie, that wouldn’t be fair. After all, you didn’t kill me. No, what did you do to me? Ah yes, I remember. You found my maker and brought her to kill me. Unfortunately, when I die I just come right back to life again. I don’t think the same can be said for you.” Nickolas’ voice had lost some of its playfulness.
“What are you talking about?” Richie asked and there was clear fear in his voice. Victor was possibly the only member of the clan who knew Richie’s one fear and he hadn’t shared it with a soul, although evidently Nickolas had figured it out.
“Well, I did find what I was looking for on my travels but I found something else as well, something for you. Do you know what it is?”
Richie said nothing.
“I found the Cult of Osiris. It’s still led by the Aramaya family.” Richie closed his eyes tight and Nickolas smiled victoriously. “It turns out that Cain Aramaya has an old debt to repay to you. Would you believe that he and his family all believed you were dead? Naturally I corrected them and told old Cain right where he could find you. Imagine that, the oldest vampire in the world coming here to Cedarstone just to see you. Well, I can see you’re busy so I’ll leave you to it. You called my maker, I called yours, now we’re even.” Nickolas patted Richie on the shoulder and then strode through the others to leave the room. Nobody moved to try and stop him, they all knew they couldn’t.
Richie sighed loudly and then took his seat at the head of the elder’s table.
“Come on, sit down, we’ve got a lot to get on with,” he said and put on a smile, but it had only a fraction of his usual mirth. Victor grabbed his chair and took his seat. Richie was clearly going to play ignorant but the act couldn’t last for long. Cain Aramaya was coming and he was going to have to face up to that fact.
*
CHAPTER FIVE
The benefit of being locked up for three months was that James had finally managed to kick his speed addiction, although not willingly, he simply hadn’t been given any. It had taken a long time, but eventually, his cravings diminished. He still got the odd yearning from time to time but it was nothing compared to before. He was clean, and it wasn’t as horrible as he’d thought it would be. He always believed that if he stopped taking the drugs then all the feelings of pain about losing his son would return.
He thought that all the guilt for the work he’d done for the council would crawl up and bite him. But neither did. He did miss his son and he did feel some guilt for his actions, but time had dulled them both. Having neither drugs nor alcohol in his system was a liberating feeling; he actually felt cleaner, clearer. He didn’t have as much energy as he had when he was on speed but that was a small price to pay for being cleaned up. James Tenson was a new man. Now all he had to do was become a free man.
His accommodation here was far better than Arthur’s cellar, and it was certainly better than the mauseoleum he’d been left in before he’d been brought to the house. He was no longer chained up, the room was furnished and he had a bathroom en-suite. He’d been provided with fresh clothes and was actually fed regularly. He didn’t have a television, phone or computer, but he was being looked after. He didn’t have many social interactions, the only person he saw was Kristen, one of Nickolas’ disciples. She was nice enough, she brought him food and drink and chatted to him, but she didn’t answer many of his questions. She wouldn’t even tell him why Nickolas was keeping him prisoner. At first, he’d thought it was because he knew the truth about Jamal, but Nickolas would have just killed him to keep the truth hidden. There was more to it.
Kristen had told him some of the occurrences around town. She told him that almost the entire council cabinet was dead. That had crushed any hopes of a rescue. Although, if he was perfectly honest with himself he hadn’t expected the council to rescue him, they’d left him in Arthur’s cellar for long enough without so much as looking for him. Now that Eloise knew the truth about him being a werewolf they would have turned their backs on him completely. He was just another one of the towns monsters that needed to be controlled — or killed.
Kristen had told him that Arthur was dead too. Nickolas had killed him for backing out of the deal they made. James had never liked Arthur but he still mourned his passing. The man had tried so desperately to break the curse for so long and then when he finally managed it his happy ending had been snatched out from under him, it wasn’t fair. But fairness wasn’t often dealt out in Cedarstone. He couldn’t imagine the pain Clara must be going through, she’d lost everyone in the space of two weeks. There was a time not so long ago when he would have loved to be the person there to help her pick up the pieces, to give her a shoulder to cry on, but he didn’t feel that way about her anymore. His schoolboy crush was over, and that’s all it had been really, no real feelings, just lust. She was an attractive woman and he was a mess. He’d barely thought about her at all since being moved to Nickolas’ house. She knew the truth about everything now anyway, and that would undoubtedly include the fact that he had murdered her grandfather. Any hopes for them getting together were smashed beyond repair.
Every full moon Kristen had taken him down to the cellar for his transformation. She’d left him in a silver cage until he turned human again the next morning, and then he was returned to his room. Those were the only times he’d been allowed out of his room. She’d put a black bag over his head each time so he wouldn’t see where he was. It was a fairly large house he was in but he could have figured that out without leaving his room. There were at least 14 people living in the house so it would need at least as many rooms unless they were sharing and James got the impression that the Thirteen weren’t up for top and tailing. He had a window in his room but it had been enchanted so he couldn’t see anything through it.
It was just about time for breakfast when the door opened and Kristen came in. She looked young, no older than 25 but she was immortal, so there was no way of telling what her true age was and she wasn’t sharing the details. She was a quite a small woman, no taller than 5”4, and very petite. If James didn’t know better he would have thought he could overpower her, but he did know better because he’d tried. The second time she’d opened his door he’d ran at her and been hurled across the room by her magic. He’d hit his head so hard he’d suffered a concussion and she’d refused to heal him. Apparently his werewolf healing didn’t work on magically inflicted injuries. He hadn’t tried anything since. In truth he’d actually grown quite fond of her; when he wasn’t trying to attack her she was a friendly woman. He hadn’t expected any of the Thirteen to be friendly; he’d imagined them to be the embodiment of evil, but that was a foolish assumption. They were people just like him, and they had their reasons for the things they did, just like he did. He hadn’t done the dirty work for Jonathan Langford because he’d enjoyed it; he’d done it to try and make the town a safer place so that his son could come back. It was clear to him now that Dean was never going to come home. After all, it hadn’t been the town that had scared him off, it had been James. The first time James had turned into a wolf he’d lost control and tried to kill Dean. He’d tried explaining that he had no control when he was in that state, some sort of beast took over, but Dean either didn’t believe him or he didn’t care. He’d left Cedarstone the following morning and never returned.
When Kristen walked in James was dismayed to see that she had not brought breakfast. Instead, she held in her hand the familiar black bag. But the full moon had been three nights ago and it was early morning so why was he going to the cage? His puzzlement must have shown because she answered the question in his head.
“You’re not going to the cage. Nick’s back, he wants to see you,” she said casually. He really hoped that he’d misheard her. When he’d been a prisoner in Arthur’s cellar, Nickolas had come downstairs and tortured him. It wasn’t physical; Nickolas preferred psychological torture, and James did not want to experience it again.
“I didn’t know he’d gone anywhere,” James replied, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.
“That’s because we didn’t tell you,” she said tauntingly. She threw the bag and he caught it in his hands.
It was surely a sign that a prisoner was completely broken when they obeyed without question, and that was exactly what James did when he pulled the bag over his own head. He didn’t feel broken, though, he just knew that if he refused he’d have the bag forced on him and that would be humiliating. Once the bag was on he felt Kristen’s grip on his upper arm and he let her lead him from the room.
She led him down the hallway and then up to the third floor of the house. It was the first time James had been on the third floor. She took him down another hallway, round a corner and then into a room.
“When you hear the door close you can take the bag off,” Kristen said to him, and a moment later he heard the door close.
He pulled the bag off his head slowly and looked around. He was alone in a vast room that he guessed was Nickolas’ study. There was a mahogany desk at one end of the room with a tall-backed wooden chair behind it. Two smaller wooden chairs were positioned on James’ side of the desk. Behind the desk, there was a wooden cabinet that matched the desk, and either side of that were two tall bookcases. Off to the right of the desk was a single door which was closed. The room boasted a large fireplace and in front of it were two chesterfield armchairs. It was the sort of room James would expect to find in a rich old man’s mansion. There was even a drinks cabinet in the corner near the fireplace. There was a round side table next to James and placed his bag on top of it.
There was a thud and James wheeled around to see what it was. There was no-one else in the room and it didn’t look like anything had fallen. There was a large wooden travelling trunk pushed up against the wall. The thud could have come from the trunk. As if in answer the trunk jolted and there was another thud. There was something in the trunk. But what? It was more than large enough for a person but… James moved closer and saw that there was no lock on the trunk so if there was a person inside then they would be able to lift the lid and escape. Unless it’s enchanted. James didn’t know much about enchantments, magic had been gone from Cedarstone for his entire adult life, so until recently he’d never encountered any. If he just had a quick peek then he should have enough time to close it again before whatever it was escaped.
He walked over to the chest and laid his hands on the top. Something hit the lid where his hand was and he snatched it back as if he’d been burned. There was a muffled noise coming from inside, maybe talking, but it was hard to tell. James reached out once again to lift the lid.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Nickolas said as he came out from the door at the back of the room. “The guy inside has a bit of an attitude problem.”
“I couldn’t imagine why,” James said, stepping away from the trunk. The speed had always taken away his fear when he found himself in situations like this one. That was one of the few things that he missed.
“It’s good to see you all cleaned up,” said Nickolas. James was unsure whether he meant his appearance or his drug habit. Maybe both.
“Why are you keeping me here?” he asked.
“Where else would you go?” Nickolas asked with genuine interest, as he perched himself on the edge of his desk.
“Home,” said James. His three-bedroom house was nothing special, and the emptiness had always upset him, but now he missed it more than he ever thought he could.
“You’re safer here. I don’t think there’s anybody in this town who doesn’t hate you. You spent years pissing off the vampires, the werewolves, and the sorcerers. The new council might not hate you, but you know too much for their liking which makes you a liability if you get my meaning. I honestly don’t think you’d last half an hour outside these walls.”
“So you’re keeping me here for my own protection?” James said. He didn’t believe a word of it.
“No, that’s just a bonus for you. You know one of my secrets. Ordinarily I would have just killed you and had done with it. But I see something in you. Something interesting,” Nickolas said, looking at James in a way that he found unsettling.
“It’s probably just my dashing good looks,” James replied. In times of uncertainty use sarcasm.
Nickolas smiled. “Potential. Each of my disciples was picked because I saw potential in them. I thought that they could make my coven stronger. When one of them dies it proves me wrong, but that rarely happens. Whilst I was in Saudi Arabia, Warren got killed. There was a horrible accident when I was procuring my new… guest.” He indicated the trunk. “Anyway, it means that a slot has opened up on the team. I need a new disciple and I think you might be just the person for the job.”
