by N M Thorn
“Dammit...” he cursed quietly, frowning. “I wish you’d told me that earlier.” Turning to the werewolf, he put his hand on his shoulder. “Craig, I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but I have to ask you to keep the situation with your wife’s murder down and let me do my job. As I mentioned, the situation in the state is unstable already because of internal conflict in the Vampire Court. I can’t allow the tension to escalate. It’s my job to preserve the secrecy of the World of Magic at any cost.” He gave a pointed stare to the werewolf and repeated. “At any cost. I mean it.”
Craig glanced down at his wife’s bloodied body, and a tortured expression of undiluted grief darkened his face. He pressed his hand to his mouth, his dark eyebrows lowering over his glassy eyes, deep creases cutting across his forehead.
“How am I supposed to keep it down?” he whispered, his voice sounding so hoarse Damian could barely make out his words. “Please tell me, how am I supposed to explain Sarah’s death to my pack? Besides...” Craig smirked darkly, averting his gaze. “You’re too late, Lord Enforcer. The daughter of one of the Phoenix Alphas was killed by a vampire. Hawk is an honorable man, but it’s his baby girl. I can’t even imagine...” He cringed visibly, tears gathering in his eyes. “He’s not going to let it go, and I can’t blame him. The war has started already, and there is no way back. You can’t stop it now.”
“God damn it all!” growled Damian, burying his hands into his hair. He stilled for a moment, his mind working on overdrive. “How can I find Hawk?”
“You’re not serious,” muttered Craig, staring at him in shock. “Destiny Enforcer or not, Hawk’s pack will tear you limb from limb if you ask them to stand down without avenging their own.”
“I’ll take my chances,” replied Damian calmly.
Once Craig had given him directions to Hawk’s ranch, he thanked the werewolf and once more expressed his condolences, promising to bring the person who murdered his wife to justice personally.
Pulling River aside, he halted by the side of the building and fell silent, staring at the cracks in the asphalt.
“I understand it’s bad,” said River, touching his arm. “But how bad is it?”
“It’s beyond dangerous, River,” he said quietly, throwing a careful glance around. “As far as we know, all the victims are werewolves, but we can’t be sure—killed vampires don’t leave bodies behind. If I don’t stop this confrontation, humans will start dying, too. It’s not the first war between different supernatural clans that I’ve witnessed, and every time there are human casualties. Besides, Cole as the King of the Arizona Vampire Court may end up on the receiving end of the local Alphas’ anger.”
He raked his fingers through his hair, covering the left side of his face, and exhaled a ragged breath.
“With the exception of my brother, I don’t have warm feelings toward vampires,” he said at length, “but something tells me this time, they’re innocent in the deaths of these werewolves. I don’t know how I’m going to prove it, but I must find a way.”
“Can I do anything to help?” asked River gently.
Damian shook his head, staring at the dark warehouse. “Just do your job, Detective, and be careful. Warn Jesse, too. I know he’s no longer your partner, but since he has been exposed to the World of Magic, it would be a good idea to make sure he’s not going to get in the middle of this mess.”
“I’ll talk to him,” replied River, wincing. “What are you going to do? How do you even deal with something as huge and dangerous as this?”
“One step at the time, like in that elephant joke for kids,” he replied, a tired smile ghosting his lips. “How do you eat an elephant?”
“How?” asked River, gazing up at him with curiosity.
“One bite at a time.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, staring over River’s head at the gray wall of the shop. “I’ll talk to Cole first, and then I’m going to find Hawk and see if I can stop the war between the vamps and the werewolves. After that is taken care of, I’ll see what my next step should be.” He glanced down at her, reading all the concern in her light eyes, and for a moment, his chest tightened with warmth and worry about her. “I’ll have to leave for a short while, River. Keep an eye on Cole for me, would you?”
“Didn’t you mean the other way around?” She chuckled, shaking her head.
A lopsided grin split Damian’s face. “This royal troublemaker better be guarding you with his immortal life,” he muttered. “But if you haven’t noticed yet, Cole is stupidly brave and has no instinct of self-preservation. Someone needs to be his voice of reason while I’m gone.”
“I’ll do my best.” River smiled back at him. “But you know how your brother is. For someone who’s been dead for centuries, he sure is full of life—a force of nature.”
“He’s a force, alright.” Damian sighed and pulled out his phone. “I have to go, River. If everything goes well, I’ll be back in a few hours. But if my negotiations with Hawk take longer, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
Giving her a quick wave goodbye, Damian headed toward the abandoned warehouse. He dialed Cole’s phone number and pressed the device to his ear. The phone beeped a few times, and the call went to his brother’s voicemail.
Oh, come on, Cole, answer your goddamn phone! Isn’t it the reason you have it?
Chapter 4
~ Cole Adams ~
The text message Cole received from Damian sent his thoughts into a wild frenzy, and he couldn’t wait for the meeting to be over. When he finally walked out of the conference room, he had to practically force himself not to run. A soft beep alerted him that he had a new voice mail, and the pit of his stomach fell. Even without looking at the notification, he was positive the message was from his brother.
Cole walked into his office and closed the door before making his way to his chair. He pressed the play button and stilled, listening to his brother’s deep, calm voice.
“Cole, we have a serious problem. River can give you all the legal details, but to make it short, vampires are killing werewolves. We are facing a war. You must find the vampires responsible—whether they are your subjects or the opposition. I am on my way to Phoenix to speak with Hawk, the Alpha. His daughter is one of the victims, so the conversation is not going to be easy, but I must find a way to get through to him. We must stop this situation before it escalates into a full-blown supernatural mayhem. Hopefully, I won’t be long, but keep an eye on River. And Cole...” Damian took a short pause. “It could be about the power succession in the Arizona Vampire Court, but something tells me it’s not the case. Watch your back, brother.”
Cole listened to Damian’s message one more time and threw the phone on the desk. Leaning back, he crossed his hands on his stomach and closed his eyes, processing everything that had happened in the last few weeks, trying to isolate some kind of pattern that would shed some light on the latest events.
A few minutes later, he opened his eyes and grabbed his phone. After a quick search, he dialed the phone number of his righthand man, Luciano.
“Luciano,” he said once the vampire answered the call, relief spreading through him. “I know it’s a little unusual, but I need to speak with you immediately. It’s urgent.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, I’m at your service,” replied the old vampire, but the tones of surprise laced his deep voice. “Where would you like to meet?”
“I’m at the InvictusGame corporate office,” replied Cole, his fingers fidgeting with a pen. “How soon can you be here?”
“It’s daytime, my lord,” replied Luciano, “so I have to use a car, which will slow me down significantly. Give me thirty minutes, and I’ll be with you.”
Exactly thirty minutes later, his executive assistant called to let him know that Luciano Di Angelo was here to see him, and before he could hang up the phone, Luciano walked into his office. Dressed in a black business suit and a tie, he looked like a banker, and his business-like appearance put a smile on Cole’s face.
The
ancient vampire hated modern clothes, and preferred to stay away from the outside world, most of the time remaining in his large home, coming out only at night for a tranquil walk in the desert. Even though he fully supported Cole’s direction toward peaceful co-existence with humans, he favored solitude and a nocturnal lifestyle.
“Luciano,” said Cole, rising. “I know you don’t like to travel during daylight, and I appreciate you coming to meet with me right away.”
“But of course, my liege.” Luciano bowed ceremoniously, keeping his glowing eyes down.
Cole glanced at the large windows facing the company floor, glad that he had closed all the blinds before Luciano came in.
“Don’t bow, Luciano,” he said, gesturing for him to sit down. “I called you not as your king. I need to speak with a trusted friend.” He stopped talking, exploring Luciano’s impassive face. “My maker has been gone for a while, and no matter what I do, I can’t find him. Without Ruslan, you’re the only person in the entire court I trust.”
For a heartbeat, Luciano’s features softened, and the corners of his mouth lifted just a little, the scarlet glow slowly leaving his eyes.
“If you can’t find Ruslan, it means he doesn’t want to be found,” replied the ancient vampire with a light flick of his wrist. “I’m sure you’d feel if your maker was dead.”
“I know that.” Cole pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to focus. “I just wish he were here now.” He lowered his hand and met Luciano’s steady gaze. “I’m glad I have you. I need your help, my friend.”
“And your powerful brother?” Luciano arched his brow, tilting his head.
“Damian?” Cole smiled. “He always supports me, Luciano. He’s my stronghold, and I trust him with my life. At the moment, however, he’s conducting an investigation, and it’s in our best interest to help him. You’ll understand as soon as I explain the situation.”
“Tell me what troubles you, my child.” Luciano leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs at the knee.
“A few things. I’ll start with the easiest one.” Cole grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and drew four dots. “Do you know what could leave a mark like this on the neck of a victim?”
Leaning forward, Luciano took the paper out of Cole’s hands and peered at it. “Are you sure?” he asked without taking his eyes off the drawing.
Cole nodded. “Yes, I am sure. The bite marks were deep—deeper than vampire’s or upir’s fangs would have left, and the victim was drained of nearly all blood.”
“Hmm.” Luciano placed the paper on the desk and rubbed his forehead. “Where did you see something like this?”
“During my meeting with the leaders of the opposition,” replied Cole. As briefly as he could, he described everything that had happened the night before. “What bothers me the most is that I don’t remember how the fight had started and why. Everything is a blur, and I can’t...”
His voice trailed off as he tried to focus on the events of that night. The images, blurry and shady, appeared in his mind, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring them to focus, as if something was blocking them. With a soft groan, he massaged his temples.
“I can’t remember anything, Luciano,” he whispered, leaning forward. “I was wounded. Someone shot me with a silver bullet and put a sword through my chest, and I have no idea how it happened.”
“Peculiar,” mumbled Luciano, readjusting a cufflink on his shirt. He thought for a brief moment, his gaze going out of focus. “Have you ever heard of volkolaks?”
Cole nodded. “I’ve never seen one, but from what I recall, it’s something like a werewolf but a lot stronger and bigger. Do you think we’re dealing with a volkolak?”
“No and no.” Luciano pursed his lips, a troubled look in his deep eyes. “No, volkolaks are nothing like werewolves. I think our friendly Arizona lycanthropes would get offended if they heard you say that. And no, I don’t think we’re dealing with a volkolak.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Let me explain,” continued Luciano. “Unlike werewolves, volkolaks are not created by a random bite. Also, one cannot be born a volkolak. Only a powerful sorcerer can create volkolaks by cursing a man with a dark spell. Until recently, I thought only humans could be turned into a volkolak. I was wrong.”
A sad smile crossed his face, and he glanced at the piece of paper with a picture of four dots.
“Anyway, besides volkolaks, there is one more creature born of dark magic. If volkolaks resembles werewolves, this second creature resembles”—he arched his eyebrow, twirling his wrist—“well, us. It resembles vampires and upirs, but it’s a lot stronger, faster and more powerful than even the oldest of us. I’m talking about wurdulaks.”
“You can’t be serious,” mumbled Cole, staring at the old vampire with widened eyes. “I thought they were nothing but a Slavic bedtime story.”
Luciano chuckled. “No matter how old you are, there is always something to learn, isn’t there?” He tapped his index finger on the paper. “The only vampire-type being that leaves four puncture wounds is a wurdulak. There are no others as far as I know. But it’s not the wurdulak itself you need to worry about.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you must find out who conjured it because this person controls the monster. Not every witch or wizard has the power to wield such dark magic...” His voice faded, and his lips parted, exposing his long fangs. “Unfortunately, I have no idea which branch of dark magic can work this kind of spell. If your brother doesn’t know either, you’ll have to find someone else to ask.”
“Thank you, my friend. I think I know the right person to ask this question.” Cole inclined his head and continued, “There is one more thing I wanted to talk to you about. And this topic is a lot more complicated and dangerous.”
“More dangerous than a wurdulak roaming the streets of Phoenix and getting involved in the affairs of the Arizona Vampire Court?” Luciano smirked, his downward angled eyes shining with sadness.
“Possibly,” replied Cole. “The answer to your question would depend on who controls the monster and why.” He rubbed his forehead, gathering his thoughts. “Luciano, a few werewolves were killed in Blue Creek and Phoenix. Seemingly, they were killed by vampires. I don’t know who these vampires are. They could’ve been my subjects or belonged to the opposition, or they could’ve been rogue. I don’t know. No matter what, we must stop them.”
Cole got up and walked to the window facing the public golf course. Spreading the blinds, he peeked outside, squinting at the bright sunlight.
“As we speak, my brother is trying to negotiate with werewolves to stop the war,” he continued. “Even if he succeeds—which knowing the werewolves’ explosive nature, I sincerely doubt that—if we don’t find those responsible and don’t stop the killings, the war will be unavoidable.” He took a pause, searching the green of the golf course absentmindedly. “If you know anything or even suspect anyone, please tell me.”
Luciano chuckled, and there was something so cold and menacing about this short burst of laughter that it sent shivers down Cole’s back. He spun around just in time to see Luciano rising. His eyes were glowing a sinister red—a lot brighter than a normal vampire’s eyes should’ve glowed. A tiny purple rune appeared on his forehead. It lingered over his pale skin for a brief moment and then dissipated. Luciano’s smile grew wider, exposing his fully expanded fangs.
“Oh, shit,” mumbled Cole, staggering back until he hit the window.
The old vampire growled and bolted toward him, his arms outstretched, his fingers elongating into razor-sharp claws. Moving at the fastest speed he could muster, Cole darted to the side just in time to avoid Luciano’s strike.
Quickly assessing the situation, Cole jumped on top of the desk, and as Luciano followed him, he met him with a quick front kick, his instep impacting his opponent’s chin and sending him flying back. Something cracked, and Luciano cried out, his hand clasping at his chin. Knowing tha
t the reprieve was temporary, Cole zoomed toward the door, hoping to take the fight outside the company, but before he reached it, Luciano was already on him.
He seized Cole’s long hair at the back of his head and slammed his forehead against the wall by the door, breaking his nose. Bright white light exploded in Cole’s vision as a blinding pain spiked through his brain and blood gushed from his nose.
Pressing him flat against the wall with the full weight of his body, the old vamp hissed into his ear, “You’re too young to fight someone as old as me and live to tell the tale, little King. I’ll kill you, and then I’ll find your little human pet and kill her, too. I don’t need to worry about your ogre of a brother. The dumb werewolves will take care of him for me.”
Cole pushed against the wall, realizing with horror that Luciano was right—he was too slow and too weak to fight a vampire who was almost two thousand years older than him.
“Luciano, what are you doing?” he groaned, struggling against his vice-like grip, but it was equivalent to pushing against a concrete wall. “You’re my friend. You’re my father’s friend. It’s not you... Whatever was done to you, you must fight it.”
For a moment, Luciano’s hand shook, and his grip lightened up. “Cole? What’s going on? Why am I...” His voice wavered and changed into a feral growl. He laughed again, the dark and malignant sound of his laughter chilling Cole to the bone.
However, this short moment of weakness was enough for Cole to twist out of Luciano’s hold, leaving a few strands of his hair in his fist. With a speed he didn’t expect from himself, he crossed the room toward the wooden coat rack standing in the corner with his trench coat hanging from it. Just as he reached it, a heavy thud behind him made him flinch and glance back. Luciano crouched on top of the desk like a predator ready to pounce, his eyes burning with a sinister red glow.
Cole grabbed the coat rack and slammed it against the wall, breaking it. Luciano leaped off the desk, aiming to push Cole into the corner. With no place or time to run, Cole spun around and ducked to the side as much as he could, but he wasn’t fast enough. Luciano’s fist connected with his jaw. Cole’s head jerked back, hitting the wall hard.
