by Sean Stone
“Only I will be able to let you out now. I think,” Jamal said rather unconvincingly.
James was about to ask what happened if Jamal died but then the lift opened and William Marshall stepped out.
“Jamal, what have you-” He stopped with one foot elevated above the floor staring at James and Kristen.
“They arrived not long ago,” Jamal explained. “No doubt to see what we’d found. I managed to apprehend them but Nick will probably send more.”
William shifted his gaze to Jamal but still didn’t say anything. He stared at him intently for a long time and James was certain that William knew he was lying. There was suspicion in his stare like he knew something was wrong.
“Good work,” he said, to James’ surprise. “Have they said anything?”
“Not a word. Nothing but the silent treatment.”
James looked at Kristen and the look in her eyes told him to follow Jamal’s lead.
“James,” William said as he approached the cage. “Why am I not surprised to see hanging with this crowd? You go from one bad employer to the next. Why did Nickolas send you here? To steal the weapons? Destroy them?”
James said nothing. He stared at William blankly. He imagined driving a stake through William’s heart and watching the life in his eyes flicker out. He remembered the night William had beaten and humiliated him outside this very building. The night the vampires had rescued Richard Morgan. The night William had turned on the council. James tried to create some kind of force with his power but found that the cage worked perfectly and nothing happened.
“I think I prefer you silent anyway,” William said and then turned away. “Are you sure that works?” William pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the cage.
“They haven’t go out so far,” Jamal replied.
“Fair enough,” said William. “Who’s that?” he asked when he saw the corpse on the floor.
“Jeremy Devlin.”
“Oh yes,” William said as he got a closer look. Jamal explained what had happened to Jeremy and then he and Jamal got to work. They started at opposite ends of the lab and one by one began to examine each item. James started to fidget on the spot, he was getting antsy standing there idly. What if something went wrong and they actually ended up in the cage forever? Would Nick rescue them, or would he write them off and move on? Kristen took hold of his forearm and squeezed. He wasn’t sure if it was to comfort him or just to stop him from fidgeting. Probably the latter, she wasn’t the comforting sort.
“Oh, my…” William said. He had a small black journal in his hand and was reading keenly. The book looked at least a few decades old and some of the pages were falling out.
“What is it?” Jamal asked. He looked over but when he saw that it was just a book he returned his attention to the guns in front of him.
“This is Anthony Winters’ journal,” William said as he read on. “He was researching the Thirteen.”
Jamal’s whole body turned rigid as though an electric current had suddenly surged through him, he lifted his head but didn’t look over. Kristen straightened up as well.
“There’s a list of names, the disciples I think. There are only five, he must never have learned who the rest were,” William said, never taking his eyes from the journal.
“What names are there?” Jamal asked. His voice was quiet and James could hear the strain.
“Alanis Knight, Warren Hill, Elias Barren, Kristen Dagmar and…” William stopped and James saw him swallow hard. He closed his eyes briefly but he didn’t look very surprised, more disappointed than anything.
“Who is it?” Jamal asked a little roughly.
William took in a deep breath, looked up at Jamal, and said, “You.” It was obvious then that William had already suspected something and the journal had confirmed it. There wasn’t a hint of surprise in his face or tone — only bitter acceptance.
Jamal didn’t hesitate. He whipped up the nearest gun, pointed it at William and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot was loud but the glass cage seemed to protect James from the impact on his ears. The bullet shot into William’s chest and then disappeared. William’s hand shot up to the wound which quickly healed.
“How could you betray our team?” he asked. He was still holding his chest so the bullet must be causing him some pain.
“I didn’t betray you. I was never on your team,” Jamal said and his words held no emotion. He put the gun down and brought his hands up, ready for a fight but William made no move to attack. He let out a low moan and doubled over, both hands holding his chest now.
“What did you do?” he gasped as he fell to his knees.
Jamal looked back at the gun and then replied. “The bullet released tiny fragments of wood into your blood stream. They’re killing you slowly. When they reach your heart…” He didn’t need to say the rest. William looked up at him from the floor. His eyes were dark and full of tears. He shook his head but said nothing. His skin started to turn grey and he groaned loudly. With one final cry, he fell down just inches away from Jeremy’s corpse. It looked like two statues laying next to each other in some weird kind of artwork.
“Shame. I actually liked him,” Jamal said. He crossed the room and let James and Kristen out of the cage. “You best make it look like you escaped.”
“What?” James asked. He was still trying to gather his thoughts together. He’d been thinking about how much he disliked William less than quarter of an hour ago, but now he actually felt bad for the guy. James didn’t want him dead, he just wanted him to learn a little humility.
“I’m going to blame you two for his death. To maintain my cover,” Jamal explained.
Kristen shrugged, she needed no further explanation. She smashed her hand into his chest and the force of her magic threw him into the far wall. The wall remained undamaged so James guessed that the cracking sound was Jamal’s spine. Jamal landed in a heap. Kristen flicked her finger at the nearest desk and it slid across the floor, crashing into Jamal hard. He groaned from underneath it but did not move.
“Is he okay?” James asked.
“No. But he will be,” Kristen replied. “We don’t have time to look through any of this, we’ll have to destroy it all.”
She snapped her fingers and fire sprung up from the worktops. She picked up the journal and tossed it into the flames. They stayed long enough to watch the fire spread and then they stepped back into the lift and made their way back to the house on Bartholomew drive.
*
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
For three nights Ramsay Aramaya remained in absolute silence. As soon as they returned to the manor they drained him of as much blood as they could without killing him and then injected him with a massive amount of dead man’s blood. Blood from the dead seriously weakened vampires and Richie had told Victor that it had been partially responsible for the catatonic state he’d been in when they rescued him. Not wanting to take any chances they also bound Ramsay in a thick titanium alloy chain that restricted all movement. As a final measure, they dosed his blood with iron; an element that inhibited magic. Hopefully, it would stop him from using his magic to escape as well. They locked him in the deepest dungeon in the manor. When they had built the underground manor the dungeon was something Richie had insisted on. Victor hadn’t seen the necessity for it and although it had been used over the centuries it hadn’t been used often enough to warrant its existence. Each night they visited Ramsay in his cell and each day he refused to speak. He stared dead ahead at the door as if he was trying to open it through force of will.
On the fourth night of his imprisonment, Victor and Richie went inside his cell. They checked every day to make sure that he was still there and to see how fast he was weakening. He didn’t seem to weaken at all.
“How long will it take for him to desiccate?” Victor asked, as they both stood watching their prisoner. Ramsay was slumped against the far wall staring at the door, just as he did every night.
“Don’t know. He h
asn’t shown any signs so far,” Richie replied. The average vampire would dry out completely in about six months, but Ramsay was not the average vampire.
“You lived with his family for two years. Did you learn anything about them?” said Victor. So far almost all the questions he’d asked were met with a “don’t know” from Richie.
“I learned that they’re terrified of snakes,” Richie replied with a smug look. “And that seemed pretty useful.”
“I doubt that we will be able to defeat all four of them with snakes,” Victor said and Richie dropped his smug expression.
“We might not need to defeat all of them,” Richie said, but it was clear that he didn’t want to continue the discussion in front of Ramsay. Victor knew that Lydia had been helping them rather than trying to trap them now, but the fact remained that she’d acted in a sneaky way. That meant that she would not openly stand against her father so they couldn’t count her as an ally when the time came. Richie said that Michael, the second brother, was close to Lydia and he most probably shared a mind with her. But again, he wouldn’t stand against his father. So maybe they could get away with only having to fight Cain, but maybe they’d have to fight them all and snakes and enchanted spears were not going to do the job. Not to mention the other vampires in the Cult, as Richie had explained that Cain had a small army serving him. Thankfully they didn’t seem to have arrived in town yet; Cain probably had them with him.
They made for the exit and just as they were about to leave Ramsay spoke.
“He’s nearly here.”
They turned round. Ramsay was still staring vacantly at the door as if he hadn’t spoken at all.
“Who?” Victor asked.
“My father.” There was still no expression Ramsay’s face but there was malice in his words. “When he arrives he’ll annihilate your entire clan. He’ll remove any reference to you, Richard. He’ll make it like you never existed.” He looked straight at Richie with vehemence. “I wish I’d never found you. I should never have saved you from a mortal existence.”
Victor studied his friend's face, trying to gauge his feelings. His eyes were distant and his expression bank. Victor expected Richie to come back with some comment designed to annoy Ramsay but he didn’t. He turned and left the dungeon in silence.
Two nights later a body was delivered to the club. Nobody could identify whose remains had been dropped off; they were mutilated beyond recognition. The eyes, ears and nose had been removed as well as all of the teeth. The face was covered with lacerations that had not healed; they must have been made after death. A gaping hole had been left in the chest where the heart should have been and the heart had been stuffed into the mouth. Richie took one look at the body and said: “Michael’s here.” He didn’t say another word.
Victor sent a messenger to the castle offering a trade. Richie’s life for Ramsay’s. The messenger came back without any arms or legs and once again with his heart in his mouth.
Richie grew more and more distant with each passing night and then finally on the first night of July an invitation arrived for Richie to meet Cain at the castle at midnight. Richie declined. He sent his own invitation for Cain to meet him at number 42 Broadmoor Close just before sunrise.
As soon as the messenger left they made their way to Broadmoor Close. It was a deserted street in the south end of Higham. A fire had raged through the street twelve years ago and nobody had lived there since. It was perfect for what Richie was planning.
“I’m not sure that this is going to achieve much,” Victor said as they dragged a docile Ramsay out onto the street an hour before sunrise. The dead man’s blood was doing a stunning job of keeping him weak.
“It will show Cain that we are not weak and we will not surrender,” Richie said determinedly.
“Killing his son will only make him keener on killing us,” said Victor. They laid Ramsay down on the roof of the car which had been positioned in the centre of the road and chained him in place.
“You asked me what I’d learned from my time with the Aramaya family. I learned that Cain is vengeful and sadistic. He will not deviate from his goal no matter what I offer him. But if I show him strength, if I show him that I can not be walked over and beaten like a common servant then he might actually open his ears and listen to me.”
“Surely there is some other way of getting his attention? Something we could offer him?” Victor suggested. Making an already angry man who could easily kill them even angrier was not Victor’s idea of a smart plan.
Richie looked down at the floor, an odd expression on his face. It was odd but one that Victor had seen before.
“You do have something you could offer don’t you?” said Victor. How could he have something and not mention it before?
“No,” Richie said quickly. “I have nothing that can save me.”
They covered the road surrounding the car covered with over 100 snakes. They couldn’t get many Egyptian cobras so they had to settle on several different species of snake. Hopefully, they’d do the job. They only needed to keep the family away from the car. The sunlight would do that job, but the snakes were a precaution in case they arrived before sunrise.
Victor and Richie went over to the house opposite number 42 and settled down in the living room. The sun would be rising from behind the house so they should be protected from its rays. All the same, they’d blacked out almost the entire window, leaving only a narrow gap through which they could watch the house opposite and Ramsay who was positioned in between. Victor had checked and found that the house they were in was still owned by a living person which meant no other vampire would be able to enter. Victor had tracked the owner down and forced her to give himself and Richie an invitation into the house. Then he’d made her forget about the entire incident. Number 42 was owned by nobody, so anybody could enter. They were alone; not wanting to risk any other lives. Too many of the clan had died already.
The sky was already starting to brighten when they saw movement in the front room of number 42. Two, maybe three people. They couldn’t make out any details but at least one of them was incredibly tall. The shapes spread out and Victor could see that there were indeed three of them. The shortest of the three moved closer to the window and the street lights showed it to be Lydia. She peered out and her gaze fell on Victor and Richie peeking out from their slot. Her lips moved and then a man appeared at her side. He looked like a more handsome version of Ramsay, although he still didn’t qualify as good looking. He had the same long thin nose with snakelike nostrils, and the same dark hair; it seemed to be the family look.
“Michael,” Richie whispered as if afraid they might hear him. That meant that the tall shape behind them was Cain. Cain did not come closer. Michael and Lydia returned to their father’s side and remained still. Victor couldn’t see their eyes but he knew they were staring at Richie and him, and they stared back. The silence was broken by Richie’s mobile phone ringing loudly. He pulled it out and shot Victor a nervous look. Richie would never let anyone else see him show even the slightest bit of fear and it had been so long since Victor had last seen it that even he was surprised. He nodded reassuringly and then Richie answered the phone.
“Greetings Richard.” The voice sounded like somebody was scraping a rusty chain over some pebbles. Victor’s entire body raise up in goose bumps, he could hear the conversation due to his vampiric hearing.
“Cain,” Richie replied quietly. His voice was steady but he was clenching his fists so tightly that Victor expected him to draw blood.
“I thought you were dead,” Cain said.
“You thought wrong.”
“You soon will be.” Victor had heard people use similar threats countless times in his life but never before had he actually been frightened by it. When Cain said it he believed him. “I see you have left some visitors on the road.”
“Just a little something to make sure you don’t interrupt the show,” Richie said, trying to sound like his usual self but failing mis
erably.
“And what show is that?” There was a very slight trace of annoyance in his tone. Cain knew what show Richie meant but he wanted to hear him say it. He wanted to see if he dared to threaten his family.
“You’re going to watch your son burn in the morning sun,” Richie said and he sounded a little happy. He was pleased that he’d managed to annoy Cain, like a child who just wants a reaction from his parents.
“I’m impressed, Richard. When you lived with us you were a coward. You were weak. Look at you now. Willing to do whatever it takes to get your point across. Even if it means death for everyone you have ever laid eyes upon.” His voice had a hissing quality to it as well. The entire family were literally snake-like.
Richie glanced at Victor and then quickly looked away. Cain’s last threat had shaken him.
“If you leave town now I’ll let Ramsay go. No-one has to die,” he offered.
“You have to die Richard. You broke your vow to serve the Cult for eternity. Your actions resulted in the destruction of one our sacred relics. You effectively committed regicide when you destroyed our hopes of restoring our king. Because of you, we will never achieve our purpose. You have to die,” Cain said and his sentence ended all negotiations.
“Well then. Let’s just sit back and enjoy the show,” Richie said.
Richie ended the call and dropped his phone on the ledge. And then they waited. Nobody moved and nobody spoke and then, at last, the sun started to rise. Nobody in the house across the road moved to try and save Ramsay. Even Ramsay wasn’t struggling. He remained perfectly still, apparently resigned to his fate. But when the sun rose fully nothing happened. It didn’t effect Ramsay in the slightest. He didn’t even flinch.
“What?” Richie said in perplexed wonder. Victor could find no words. He’d expected the plan to go wrong, but not like this.
