by Craig Zerf
It had been two weeks since the Pyrrhic victory over the Olympus Foundation. Lord Byron could still feel the pain of his dying brethren. Of course not the Grinders. They were mere animated meat bombs. Weapons of violence to unleash and use up. But, apart from the thirty or so Grinders, the true death had been brought upon fifteen brethren. And of those, three were Elders. In one night, the United Kingdom Chapter had lost over five thousand years of collective experience.
An insufferable loss.
But at the same time they had gained something unique. Something that no one had ever encountered before. They had turned a Shadowhunter.
Standing before him was the result. And it was magnificent.
Nathan Tremblay stood, legs slightly apart, his shirtless torso showing off an almost impossibly ripped musculature. His stance was relaxed and in his right hand he held a sword. On his face, there was a slight smile.
No, thought Byron to himself. Not a smile. A sneer. Of contempt.
Four other vampires surrounded him. All armed with similar swords, circling, looking for an advantage. Looking for the correct moment to strike.
Before any vampire was accepted into the ranks of Cromwell’s Enforcers, they were made to stand a trial of combat. It was no mere formality. The Aspirant had to show skill, courage and the desire to win.
Obviously there was no way that a single combatant could stand against four experienced Enforcers but that was not the point. The point of the exercise was to see how long they lasted.
And, if Cromwell was impressed enough, the Aspirant was allowed to join their ranks.
One of the Enforcers lunged forward but Nathan slipped out of the way without any apparent effort. As he did so, another struck from behind. Again Nathan moved but the edge of the blade slid along his ribs, cutting deeply. Exposing bone.
Cromwell smiled, pleased to see the sneering Aspirant brought down a peg or two. However, his smile did not last long when he saw the deep cut heal up almost instantly. In less than a second.
Cromwell turned to Byron.
‘My lord,’ he whispered. ‘How is that possible? A wound that deep should take minutes to heal. Not microseconds.’
Lord Byron raised an eyebrow. ‘I do not know, Enforcer. All that I do know is that we have something unique. The blend of Shadowhunter and Nosferatu has created a new breed. Now watch.’
Again the vampires attacked but this time Nathan struck back. Spinning and cutting and parrying, combining his new speed and strength with his hundred years of Shadowhunter training. He was unstoppable. His blade struck and cut again and again. Whenever an enforcer was badly cut they would simply drop to one knee and stay still. After all, it was not a fight to the death. It was a simple test.
Within seconds the four Enforcers were kneeling and Nathan stood still. His only wound already totally healed.
Lord Byron clapped. ‘Well done, young Aspirant,’ he said. ‘Now, please go to your rooms and await Master Cromwell’s decision.
Nathan nodded, bowed respectfully and left the room without a glance at the defeated Enforcers.
‘Beyond impressive,’ commented Cromwell. ‘But I still wonder if he can be trusted’
Lord Byron laughed. ‘He is Nosferatu. His blood is our blood. Of course he can be trusted. That is like asking if we can trust ourselves.’
‘Normally I would agree, sire,’ said Cromwell. ‘But you yourself said that we are dealing with a new species here. Who knows how and what he thinks.’
‘He betrayed his Shadowhunter companions. He helped to destroy the Olympus Foundation,’ reminded Byron. ‘He is desperate to be accepted. Also, he is ambitious. Very ambitious. I would watch him if I were you, Cromwell,’ advised Lord Byron with a grin.
‘And I you, my lord,’ added the Enforcer. ‘However, sire, we have not totally destroyed the foundation. When we took Nathan to see the manor house, he said that one of the Hunters was not present. A Jamaican by the name of Bastian Miller. Also we could find no trace of the wizard.’
‘They are of no moment,’ said Byron. ‘What worries me is the girl. This Emily Hawk. The crew that we sent to exterminate her did not return. I have placed watchers over Sir William’s abode and there is no sign of her. Or him. I feel that, once again, we have underestimated her power.’
‘It seems impossible,’ mused Cromwell. ‘We sent ten brethren after her. She must be beyond superhuman. Unless Sir William helped in some way.’
Lord Byron laughed. ‘What? That effete antiques dealer? I think not. Must have been quite a shock for him though. No, we need to hunt this Emily down and destroy her. Our time has come. This is the time of the Nosferatu and I won’t have some snot-nose little girl child ruining things.’
‘We have all of our Familiars looking out for her, sire,’ affirmed Cromwell. ‘We shall find her; it is only a matter of time.’
Chapter 25
