by N M Thorn
For a heartbeat, the room swam around him, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, but he managed to hold on to the piece of the broken rack. Luciano’s claw-like fingers wrapped around his right wrist, pinning it to the wall above his head. His other hand seized Cole’s neck, his unnaturally red eyes burning just inches away from Cole’s. With a strenuous groan, Cole struggled fruitlessly against his assailant.
“Stop fighting, boy,” growled Luciano, squeezing his wrist stronger to make him drop the piece of wood. “You can’t win. You don’t have what it takes to kill someone like me. I can rip your head off your shoulders with one hand.”
Luciano’s fingers dug deeper into Cole’s throat, nearly tearing it apart. Blood gushed from under his claws, coloring Cole’s white shirt scarlet. Cole moaned and unlocked his fingers, dropping the piece of wood. A burst of maniacal laughter erupted from Luciano’s lips, and his eyes shone brighter, the purple rune igniting on his forehead again.
Cole caught the falling piece of the rack with his left hand and thrust its sharp end into Luciano’s chest, moving it forward and up with all the strength he had left in his body. The old vampire gasped and staggered a step back, both his hands wrapping around the wooden stake protruding from his chest, but Cole didn’t let go.
“Missed the heart, imbecile,” growled the old vampire, his face contorted by pain and anger.
“I didn’t,” whispered Cole, staring down at the only vampire in his Court he’d trusted for years. “Please, Luciano...” He swallowed painfully, his torn throat constricted with the inevitability of what he had to do. “Fight it, my friend. It’s some kind of spell. You can fight it. I don’t want to kill you.”
For a split second, the purple rune over Luciano’s forehead dimmed down, and the red glow in his eyes subsided.
“Cole, my boy... my King,” whispered Luciano, blood gathering in his eyes, “I can’t fight it. Kill me or I will kill you, and I won’t be able to live with that. Do it before—” His voice cut off, and his face tensed as he fought the effects of the dark spell. The rune shone brighter as the spell took him over again.
No, Luciano... please...
Crumbling inside, Cole screamed and pushed the wooden stake through Luciano’s heart. The old vampire cried out and dropped to his knees. The rune vanished. His eyes turned to their normal color, and his lips twitched in a pained smile.
“Thank you...” Luciano’s last words touched Cole’s hearing, and the ancient vampire turned into a pile of gray ash, falling to the floor in soft flakes. Something metallic hit the carpeted floor with a soft thud and rolled away, catching the reflection of the electric lights.
Cole dropped the stake and flinched as it hit the Berber carpet with a dull thump. His arms hung limply along his sides as he stared at the ash, unable to wrap his mind around everything that had just happened. A tiny light flare attracted his attention. Feeling hollow inside, he stepped over the ashes and lowered to one knee, staring at a small metallic disk. It wasn’t bigger than a dime, and the rune he had seen glowing on Luciano’s forehead was inscribed on it.
He didn’t touch it. Instead, he got up and headed back to his desk. Opening one of the drawers, Cole shuffled through its contents until he found a small iron box in a thick leather binding. He grabbed the box and a pen and walked back to the metal disk. Lowering to one knee, he opened the box and placed it next to the disk. Using the pen, he moved the disk inside the box and closed it.
Luciano, I swear I’ll find who did this to you...
Chapter 5
~ Cole Adams ~
Cole walked back to his desk and leaned forward, bracing his fists against its cold surface. Anger boiled inside him, ready to spill, and he needed a few seconds to calm down and get his tangled thoughts in order. He had to get to the bottom of this. He owed it to Luciano and to the rest of the vampires of his Court who trusted him. But most of all—he owed it to his brother who stood by his side no matter what, risking his safety to help him.
As he looked down, a deep shudder ran through him. His wounds had healed, but his hands were covered in brown and red stains. His white shirt was soaked through on his chest and stomach, and he was sure his face was smeared with blood, too. He couldn’t walk through his company looking like a serial killer on the loose.
Noticing his trench coat lying in the corner, he walked around the desk and grabbed it, shaking pieces of wood off of it. He put it on, adjusted the scabbard with the sword under it and buttoned it up, covering his bloodied shirt and suit as much as he could. He realized that the coat couldn’t hide his face, but at this point, there was nothing he could do.
Cole put his hands into the pockets of his coat and lowered his head, allowing his long hair to cover most of his face. Ignoring the shocked looks of his employees, he ran across the company and out the door, not slowing down until he reached his car and dropped into the driver’s seat.
He pressed the start button and put his hands on the steering wheel, squeezing it until the leather squeaked under his deadly grip. As he entered the freeway, heading toward Scottsdale, he dialed Ace’s phone number. She answered right away.
“Cole?” Her voice sounded troubled. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” he replied.
“What happe—”
“I don’t have time to explain,” he cut her off. “I need you to go to my office as soon as you can.” He fell silent for a moment, thinking about the best way to express himself. “I had a... fight in my office. It’s a bit of mess there, and if someone sees it...”
“Got it,” said Ace. “I’m leaving right now, and I’ll take care of everything.”
“Thank you. I’ll call Mackenzie and tell her you’re doing private work per my request, using my PC.”
“Cole, are you okay? Are you hurt? You don’t sound like yourself.”
He chuckled bitterly. “I’m a goddamn vamp, Ace,” he said, staring straight ahead at the gathering traffic. “If I’m still talking to you while driving my car, I’m fine. I can’t get hurt. I’m either alive, or I’m a pile of ashes. There is no in-between.”
For a moment, the phone went silent, and Cole thought Ace had hung up on him, realizing how abrupt he sounded talking to her.
“That’s not true. You’re a vampire, but it doesn’t mean you’re soulless. The pain of one’s soul could be a lot worse than any physical pain.” Her voice was quiet and raspy as she spoke again. “Judging by the way you speak right now, I know you’re hurt. I know you well enough, Cole. I’ve been shadowing you for a while.”
He slammed his hand on the steering wheel, cursing quietly. “I’m sorry, Ace,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re right. I’m not okay. I’m far from it, but I can’t talk about it now. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
He hung up the phone and dialed his assistant, giving her all the instructions about his office and his schedule for the day. Then he took the exit toward Scottsdale and shortly after, parked his car in a small plaza at the edge of town. Putting his darkest sunglasses on, he raised the collar of his trench coat, stepped out of the car and ran toward a small bookstore.
Even though on the outside it looked just like any other mom and pop shop, the store was a front for one of the most powerful magical organizations—the Wardens Order. Any information related to the World of Magic and different supernatural communities, forbidden spells or deadly incantations—the Wardens had it. However, receiving permission to access their libraries and archives wasn’t a simple task.
Cole took the flap of his coat and wrapped it around the handle before turning it. After previous visits to the shop, he had learned his lesson—the door handle was silver-plated. He pushed the door open but didn’t walk in, cursing silently at the overly cautious, vampire-hating human Warden who owned the store.
“Aaron?” he called, peeking inside. “Mr. Cooper, this is Cole Adams. I’m going to come in. Please disarm your anti—” He cut himself off, remembering that this store was opened for e
verybody, humans included. “I don’t need any silver jewelry, just your books.”
A soft click sounded somewhere inside, and the door swung open all the way. Aaron Cooper stood in the doorway, his left hand resting on the head of a large Doberman Pinscher. Tilting his head slightly, he readjusted his glasses, and a cold smirk stretched his thin lips as he observed Cole’s blood-stained face.
“Mr. Adams,” he said, his high-pitched voice ringing with tones of sarcasm. “Should I bow and call you Your Majesty, perhaps?”
Cole sighed. The human Warden didn’t have warm feelings toward vampires, and he couldn’t blame him, but he hoped that since they worked together successfully in the past, Aaron would have lightened up toward him at least a little.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Cooper,” he said softly. “You know I wouldn’t come here if I didn’t have a really good reason. Please let me in.”
Muttering something under his breath, Aaron grabbed the dog’s collar, gesturing for him to come in. As Cole crossed the threshold, the dog sniffed him and lowered its head, his fangs exposed in a snarl.
Aaron folded his arms, staring at him. “I hope it’s not human blood on your face and hands, Mr. Adams.”
“No,” replied Cole, feeling empty inside. “Vampire blood. Most of it is mine.”
“Uh-huh.” He pursed his lips, his entire demeanor exuding a vibe of mistrust. “I would like to know what kind of emergency brought you here this time, looking like that, Mr. Adams?” he asked dryly.
“A war, Mr. Cooper,” replied Cole, struggling to keep his cool. “I need to speak with Master Warden Luc de la Crosse as soon as possible.”
“For someone who’s been undead for centuries, it’s always a matter of life and death with you, isn’t it?” Aaron reached into the pocket of his thick cardigan and produced a cellphone. “If you’re talking about the conflict between different vampire factions, we already know about that, and personally, I don’t give a damn. As far as I’m concerned, you can all go ahead and kill each other. Good riddance.” He waved his hand dismissively.
“No, Mr. Cooper,” objected Cole, stifling a sigh. “I’m talking about the kind of war that would lead to hundreds of human casualties if we don’t prevent it.” He stopped talking and threw his hands up. “I understand you don’t like vampires, but what do you have against me personally? I’ve been nothing but respectful to you. Why can’t you show me the same courtesy?”
Aaron gave him a frosty once-over and didn’t reply but dialed a phone number, lifting the device to his ear.
“Master de la Crosse,” he said, going around Cole to lock the front door and shut down the open sign. “I have Cole Adams here.” He stopped talking, listening to his boss. “Yes, my lord, he’s alone, and he demands an audience with you. He said it’s urgent.”
Before he hung up the phone, a portal opened behind him, and a young man dressed in a black shirt and pants walked out, halting in front of Cole. His hazel eyes moved from Cole’s face to his hands, and his mouth opened, shock reflected on his handsome features.
“Cole, what happened?” he asked with a heavy French accent, approaching him.
“I was forced to kill Luciano Di Angelo. This is one of the reasons I am here,” replied Cole, but as much as he tried to keep calm, his voice shook. “Can we speak privately?”
“Of course, mon ami.” Luc de la Crosse gestured for him to follow and headed toward the small room at the back of the shop. Opening the door, he allowed Cole to pass first but stopped Aaron before he could walk inside. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and gave him a twenty-dollar bill. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking you something like this, but can you please go to the store next to yours and buy a plain black shirt.” He gave Cole a quick once-over and added, “Make it size large.”
Aaron groaned but took the money and walked out of the shop. Luc de la Crosse turned to Cole and pointed at the small door on the left.
“Perhaps you’d like to clean up first?” he asked.
“Thank you.”
Cole took his trench coat off, hanging it over the back of a chair. As Luc glanced at him, he didn’t comment on his appearance, but his hand went up to his mouth. Cole smirked bitterly and turned on his heels, heading into the restroom. Once he closed the door, he approached the mirror and stared at his reflection, which looked like something out of a horror movie, unable to make a move.
Making an effort, he took his jacket, shirt and tie off, throwing everything on the floor. Moving like a robot, he scrubbed his skin, removing all traces of blood. As he stared at the dirty brown water running down the drain, resentment spiraled through him, spiking anger and determination. He ripped a few pieces of paper towel, dried his face, chest and arms the best he could, and walked out of the restroom, grabbing his destroyed clothes on the way out.
By the time he was done, Aaron was back, sitting on a chair next to Luc, a black T-shirt lying on the table in front of him. The older man looked up at Cole, and his jaw dropped.
“I always wondered if vampires need to work out to build that”—Aaron moved his hand up and down, pointing at Cole’s torso—“Mr. Universe style body. Or is it a package deal—fangs, immortality, six-pack, martial arts skills? BOGO.” He pushed the shirt toward him. “This is for you. Please, do me a favor and cover all that before I drown in self-pity.”
Cole’s eyebrows climbed up and despite the gloom he felt at the moment, he couldn’t help but chuckle.
“This is the way I looked when I was turned,” he said, taking the shirt and putting it on. “Now that my brother is here, I do some workouts with him, mostly for his sake. I’m entitled to have some fun, you know? It’s a chance to relax and unwind for me. As far as the martial arts and swordsmanship, this has nothing to do with what I am—I have to work for it, training every day, just like my brother or any human who practices martial arts.”
He sat down across from Luc and Aaron, sobering up. As briefly as he could, he told them everything he found out from Damian and Luciano. For a while, both Wardens sat in silence, looking dumbstruck.
“Damian went to meet with the head of the Phoenix pack whose daughter was killed,” added Cole. “I haven’t heard from him yet.”
Luc leaned back in his chair, his fingers brushing over his well-groomed mustache. “O' Lord, protect us all with your divine light,” he whispered, and the sound of his voice sent chills down Cole’s back.
“Master de la Crosse, I don’t understand why you look so alarmed. This won’t be the first conflict between werewolves and vamps,” said Aaron, throwing a veiled look at Cole. “It seems like these two groups of monsters can’t stand each other and are always at war. We stopped them the last time, and we can do it again.”
“You don’t understand, Aaron,” replied Cole, his fingers gripping the edge of the table. “I’m going to run an investigation in my Court just to make sure, but I’m almost a hundred percent positive it’s a waste of time—none of my vampires killed these werewolves. At least, not willingly. It was either the work of a wurdulak, or they were controlled somehow. Just like Luciano was...”
“You don’t know that,” huffed Aaron, leaning forward. “Besides, it could’ve been your opposition trying to ignite the war to take over the Court. Did you think about that, Your Majesty?” He filled the last two words with so much contempt that Cole flinched.
“It’s possible, Aaron.” Cole smirked, twisting the ring on the middle finger of his right hand. “But it’s very unlikely. I think we have a much bigger issue than just another conflict between two supernatural groups.”
“You—,” started Aaron, rising, but Luc raised his hand, stopping him.
“Aaron, stop attacking Cole,” said the Master Warden, his voice slightly above a whisper. “I know you hate vampires, but God knows he is not our enemy.” He crossed himself, a deep frown settling on his youthful face. “Cole, Luciano was right. Wurdulak is the only vampire-like creature of magic that leaves four puncture wounds
on the necks of their victims. Everything he said makes perfect sense, however, what happened after... Are you sure Luciano was controlled? Are you positive he didn’t betray you? With the unstable situation in the Arizona Vampire Court, nothing would surprise me.”
“No,” growled Cole, his hands clenching into fists of their own accord. “Luciano would never betray me. Never!”
He slammed his fist on the table, but then bit his lip and looked away. Luc and Aaron exchanged a quick look but didn’t say anything, allowing Cole to continue.
“Luciano wasn’t just my righthand man. He was my friend, my maker’s friend and brother in arms. The bonds of friendship between my father and Luciano were stronger than blood, more powerful than any dark magic. They carried it through thousands of years, and Luciano had been by my side from the moment Ruslan turned me,” said Cole, composing himself. “He would never do anything to jeopardize my safety. He was controlled by some kind of malicious spell, and it had to be extremely powerful dark magic.”
Rising, he shoved his hand in the pocket of his pants and pulled out the small iron box where he had stored the metal disk he found after Luciano’s death. Turning to Luc, he added, “Master Warden, you know that it’s not easy to control vampires. But to control a vampire as ancient as Luciano, it has to be someone extremely skilled in the Dark Arts.”
He put the box on the table and pushed it toward Luc. The Master Warden caught the box and opened it, peering inside.
“Oh, Lord,” Luc exhaled, raising his eyes at Cole. “Cole, please tell me you didn’t touch this disk.”
Cole shook his head. “No, my lord, I didn’t,” he replied. “I suspected this disc was connected to the dark spell that controlled Luciano, similar to the way witches use hex bags for curses.” He pointed at the box. “The box is made of cold iron and built to contain cursed objects.”
