by Sean Stone
“You failed,” said Apophis, his voice low and growling.
“I did,” Adam admitted. Apophis looked at him, through him, into his mind. Adam could feel him rooting around in his head this time, he wasn’t being at all subtle. Adam got the impression that Apophis wanted him to feel it. He wanted to see if he could resist, or if he’d even try. Adam did not.
“You’ve given up,” said Apophis sorrowfully. “There is nothing so depressing than to see a man broken and sapped of will. All fight gone. Tell me, Adam, what do you want?”
“You looked in my head. You know what I want,” said Adam, his voice void of emotion.
“I do know, but I want you to say it.”
Adam took a deep breath and then released it slowly. “I want to die.”
“I would be happy to oblige,’ he said. His eyes shone yellow and Adam felt his magic at once. It was so strong. It seemed to fill the room, it filled Adam. He felt pressure in the core of his stomach. It was like a breath of air was released from his core, seeping through every part of his body. Everything felt so heavy as it spread. The box containing his magic slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a heavy thud. Numbness spread over him as the room started to darken. Then Apophis and the room came back into focus. “I abhor failure,” he said. Then Adam felt agony like he’d never felt before as bright orange flames burst out of his skin. He screamed high and shrill as the flames scorched his body and consumed his life.
In just a matter of seconds Adam was turned to dust before Apophis’ eyes. The ancient jinni watched his failed servant burn. Adam had let him down but Kristen was still in play. She could still get the job done. Apophis could convince her to kill Arthur as well as Clara. And if she failed too… Well then he’d just have to do it himself. He’d rather not resort to that, but if he was left with no choice. He put the thought aside. It was important right now. He turned from Adam’s ashes and stepped through the door in the corner of the room. He needed to focus on the statue in the basement.
Chapter 20
Arthur and Toni were in the garden preparing for Marlon’s funeral. Clara had taken the opportunity to do what needed to be done. She had to make sure nobody died if she could prevent it. Bianca had no business being in town. She’d already stepped away from supernatural matters and Clara would not allow her to be pulled back in. She had to go now. Clara had cornered James as soon as he’d returned from Maidstone.
“Are you sure about this?” James asked sceptically, looking from Clara to Dean and back again.
“Yes. No more people will die if I have the chance to save them,” she said firmly. “Bianca doesn’t need to be here. She’s putting herself in danger by staying.”
“I got the impression that she doesn’t want to leave, though,” James said.
“I don’t care. I’m sure she doesn’t want to die either which will happen if she stays,” said Clara. Bianca had no way of defending herself and Clara couldn’t guarantee that somebody would always be there to protect her. Besides, they could barely protect themselves.
“Did you hear that, Dean?” James said, raising his eyebrows at his son.
“Don’t start, Dad. I’m not Bianca. I can look after myself,” Dean grumbled.
“Mmm. If you say so,” James said before turning back to Clara. “Where do you want me to take her?”
“Wherever she wants. Just get her out of here.”
“Alright then,” James said. “You want to say goodbye first?”
Clara shook her head. “If I do that she’ll fight me on this. Best if you just take her. Just… Explain to her why I’m doing this and tell her I’ll see her soon. Make sure she keeps her mirror on her.”
James nodded and then left the room.
“Don’t worry. You’re doing a good thing,” Dean said, seeing that she was distressed.
“It doesn’t feel like it,” Clara replied. It felt like she was betraying her friend. Bianca wanted to stay and Clara was depriving her of that choice. It felt wrong, but if it kept Bianca alive then that was all that mattered.
A while later James returned and said that he’d delivered Bianca to her family in Medway. Bianca was apparently fuming. Clara tried to contact her using the mirror, but she never answered. Clara could imagine how furious she was right now. Furious but alive.
Bradley was surrounded by soldiers as he journeyed upstairs back to his office. Eloise had increased his guard since Clara had attacked. At least he was still alive unlike the rest of the councillors who Eloise had had executed. They had no value to her so she’d had them shot dead and burned. They’d been Bradley’s colleagues and friends. He was thankful that he hadn’t had to watch, but he’d heard their screams from his own office. It had served as a reminder of how dangerous Eloise was. She’d never been this bad before, when Jonathon had been curbing her murderous urges. Now she was unrestrained.
After the antics in the town centre Eloise had invoked a permanent curfew which Bradley had just announced to the town. Nobody was allowed on the streets. If they were seen they would be shot dead. Few people left their homes without needing to anyway, but this way Eloise was sure only the sorcerers would come out which meant they could kill them on sight.
Bradley reached his office and stepped inside, not that it was his office anymore as was evidenced by the fact that Eloise was sitting behind his desk. She had a large bandage on the left side of her forehead where she’d been attacked by the Coven. Bradley had seen the wound and whoever had caused it deserved a handshake. He’d taken plenty of pleasure at the sight of it. Of course, he had been hoping that Eloise would not return from her meeting with Clara, though he’d known that Eloise would not be bested so easily. He’d tried to warn Clara. Luckily, Clara had managed to escape with her life.
“Ah, Bradley, there you are,” said Eloise, as if she’d been looking for him. “Where is… There you are Roman,” she said to somebody behind Bradley.
He turned and saw one of the soldiers standing right behind him. It was the tall one with the square face and squinty eyes. Bradley suppressed a shiver at the sight of him. The majority of the soldiers seemed to just be doing their jobs — not that that excused their actions — but Bradley got the impression that Roman enjoyed the vile tasks Eloise set him. He always seemed eager for his next assignment.
“What do you need, boss?” Roman said, stepping past Bradley as if he wasn’t even there.
“The Home Secretary is calling and I’d like you to be present. Your report on the annihilation of the werewolves will make last night’s fiasco easier to digest,” Eloise replied. She stood up from her desk and began gathering papers to her bosom.
“You want me present?” asked Bradley, suspecting a mistake.
“That’s what I said, Bradley. I do hope you won’t need me to repeat everything to you,” she said in exasperation.
“I don’t understand why you want my attendance,” he said, looking at Roman as if he might be able to offer an explanation. Roman gave him a look of contempt and Bradley returned his gaze to Eloise.
“You are the mayor of this town. The Home Secretary sees you as a valuable part of this operation. I am yet to see your value, but I am sure you will impress me in some way soon,” she said as she crossed the room to the small conference table. Bradley ignored the jibe.
“Maybe if you gave me something more important to do I would be able to impress you,” he suggested. If she gave him better tasks then maybe he’d be able to learn something useful that could result in her downfall.
“Excuse me one moment. I’ve got a call from the East checkpoint,” Roman said, raising his mobile phone. All the top level soldiers had phones running on a government network that allowed them to communicate with one another. Eloise had one too. Eloise nodded without looking up and Roman left the room.
“Perhaps,” she said as she arranged her papers on the dark varnished conference table. “If you were to prove that you can be trusted then I would entrust you with more important jobs. As
it happens the only thing you have done so far is send me into a pathetic excuse for a trap.”
“All I did was pass the message on,” said Bradley in his defence.
“Mm-hmm,” Eloise said, finishing up. “Give me some useful information. Tell me how I can eliminate some of the more challenging creatures in this town.” She looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. She did not expect a satisfactory answer, but Bradley had one. He had information Clara had given him not so long ago. The information was next to useless to Eloise, but the gesture should count for something.
“I know how to kill Nickolas Blackwood,” he offered. Her eyebrows rose higher than they already were and her eyes opened in genuine surprise.
“Go on,” she prompted.
“There is a golden dagger he has that if stabbed into his heart will kill him,” he said, watching Eloise’s greedy eyes glow with excitement.
“That is useful information. If only we had a way to neutralise his power so we could get the dagger from him,” she said, more to herself than to Bradley.
Roman came back in, his face brought with concern. “We’ve had a disturbance at the checkpoint,” he said and waited for Eloise’s wrath.
“Who escaped?” she asked, her voice low and menacing. The pleasure she’d been exhibiting before was now long gone.
“Nobody. Only one of the soldiers there survived, but he said it was people coming in. Two women and a man.”
Eloise nodded slowly as she processed the information then to both Bradley and Roman’s surprise she smiled. “This could work to our advantage. Sit down and I’ll dial the Secretary.”
The conference was quick and to the point. After explaining to the Home Secretary that Clara had attempted to expose the truth to the humans and then the recent disturbance at the checkpoint, Eloise was granted approval to kill any human civilians that were exposed to the truth. Things were about to get a lot worse.
Clara stood at the bottom of the garden watching Marlon burn on the funeral pyre. His ashes would be interred with the other deceased coven members in the Coven Mausoleum. Toni had explained that usually they did not hold funerals in their gardens but under the circumstances a proper funeral wasn’t possible. Even though she’d spent the last few hours with Dean and he had done a good job of making her feel better, she still looked at the fire and felt responsible. She had to be smarter from here on, no more charging around on her own.
Arthur walked slowly over to her. “I’m sorry for how I was earlier,” he whispered, respectful of the funeral going on. He’d linked the mirror system to a larger one which the rest of the coven were watching the funeral via. Clara had returned the master mirror to Arthur now. She wondered if Bianca was watching.
“Don’t be. You was right,” Clara replied.
“What I said was right. The way I said it was wrong,” he clarified. “I spoke to you like you was a child and if there’s one thing I’ve learned lately it’s that you’re not a child. In my absence you’ve done a blinding job of protecting this town and you don’t deserve to be belittled in anyway. I might not have said this, but I am incredibly proud of you.”
Clara nodded. “You actually have said before. Several times,” she said and let out a small laugh.
Arthur smiled and then began leading her away from the fire so they could talk more freely. “According to Eddie, Ramsay survived the attack on the club,” he said. Eddie was the guy who’d helped relieve Adam of his magic. Clara hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting him, but she’d been told all about his abilities by her father. He certainly sounded interesting. If they survived this ordeal he might be useful in future battles.
“So we need Richie to take back the clan before he comes for us,” she said. No doubt Ramsay knew they were behind Richie’s rescue.
“And that’s the other problem. Richie isn’t showing any signs of recovering any time soon,” Arthur said, shaking his head sombrely.
“Then we need to convince Ramsay that we were not responsible for Richie’s rescue. If I go there asking to reconsider the alliance it might make him doubt our involvement. If we had Richie why would we still want him?” suggested Clara. Arthur did not look convinced.
“It’s worth a try, but I’m not sure about you going,” he said, looking beyond her to the other people in the garden. Only Dean and Toni were there.
“Dad, don’t get overprotective. I’ve learned my lesson. Ramsay isn’t impervious to magic. I can handle him,” she insisted. She’d be more cautious this time, but she was not going to hide away in the house.
“Alright, but take Dean. He has experience fighting vampires and I’d feel better off knowing he was with you,” said Arthur.
“Done,” said Clara. She was happy to have a reason to spend time with Dean on a solo mission. Since their chat in her bedroom he’d really grown on her. When she looked at him she saw a far gentler person than the grumpy git she’d met weeks ago.
“Be careful, Sweetie,” he said as she walked over to Dean.
“I will be,” she replied without looking back.
There was no barmaid at Morgan’s when Clara and Dean arrived. They made their way down to the manor unimpeded. When they arrived the evidence of the attack was everywhere. Crimson pools adorned the stone walls and floor. Tapestries and paintings were ripped and hanging on for dear life.
“I wonder how Eloise will react to this,” Dean said, as he stepped over a pool of blood.
“She’ll send more soldiers,” said Clara. It seemed to be the answer to everything when it came to Eloise.
They turned the corner and came to a set of double doors which were open wide, voices spilled out.
“We cannot ignore this. We need to strike back and we need to strike back soon,” said one.
“Yes, Jacob, I heard you the first five times you said it,” said Ramsay irritably. “Need I remind you who is in charge?”
“Of course not,” said Jacob, far more humbly.
Clara and Dean walked in. They were in a great hall, easily the largest room Clara had ever been in, it looked like a castle throne room. As Clara looked up the hall she saw that there was an ugly throne atop a dais looking down over the hall. She’d always known that Richie was eccentric, but she’d never thought he actually had a throne. In the middle of the room vampires were piling dead soldiers whilst at the other end wounded vampires were being seen to. The very fact that the soldiers had managed to cause lasting wounds to vampires terrified Clara. Ramsay stood before the dais observing with Jacob at his side. As Clara approached she saw that Ramsay was splattered from head to toe in blood. His eyes locked onto Clara’s and his lips stretched in a sneer.
“Clara Winters, back again so soon and you’ve bought a friend. Is he for me, as a way of apology? I could do with a meal and he looks appetising,” said Ramsay, eyeing up Dean.
“Try and sink those fangs into me. See what happens,” said Dean, sticking his chin out aggressively. Clara admired his balls, but now was not the time for bravado.
“We’re here because we heard about the attack and thought you might have reconsidered your decision,” she said.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Richie anywhere?” Ramsay said, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
Clara looked at Jacob whose eyes were fixed on the floor. “No,” she said, looking back at Ramsay. “I thought you had him sedated?”
“I thought so too, but during the festivities tonight he seems to have absconded. Jacob here,” he placed an arm around Jacob who tensed under his touch, “has assured me, that he knows nothing of Richie’s escape. You however, have a very clear motive and I did catch a rather troublesome warlock snooping around earlier. It seems to me that he was your distraction, despite swearing that he had no affiliation with your lot.”
“Ramsay, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I know of no warlock,” Clara lied easily, looking him right in the eye. “I was in the High Street fighting Eloise this evening as was my father and his Coven.” She neglected to ment
ion that most of the Coven were not there and that the event had taken place after the rescue of Richie.
“I’m sure you have a solid alibi. But I’m not the police, I don’t require one to wage war on you,” Ramsay said malevolently, taking a step towards her.
“Back up, pal,” warned Dean, also stepping forwards.
“Most vampires can’t fight me. Do you really want to try your hand?” asked Ramsay.
“Ramsay, if they had Richie why would they need to ask you for help?” Jacob said quietly, finally looking up from the floor.
Ramsay considered his words and then took a single step back. “Jacob raises a valid point. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, but if I get the smallest bit of evidence that you were involved…”
“You’ll rip our heads off. Yeah we get it,” said Clara. “Now, how about that alliance?”
“I think not,” said Ramsay. He turned and ascended the dais. Clara watched him lower himself grandly into the throne and then cross one leg over the other.
“Why not? You’ve just been attacked!” she protested.
“It was a meagre attack at best. Make no mistake, I will get revenge, but I’ll do it alone and in my own time.”
“Ramsay, please. This isn’t a game. Lives are at stake. You have enough vampires to end this war tomorrow if you just marched on the town hall. We could assist you with magic,” she implored him.
“I could end this war right now. But where would be the fun in that? Besides, I need to find my pet. A man just isn’t the same without his companion. It’s terribly lonely without Richie,” he mocked.
“Come on, Clara, this is a waste of time,” said Dean.
“Yes, listen to your little friend and run along. Before I change my mind about giving you the benefit of the doubt.”
Clara had so many nasty remarks she wanted to make, but the adult in her forced her to hold her tongue. Peace with the vampires was tentative without her making it worse. As she left she hoped that Arthur had found a way to speed up Richie’s recovery.
