The Watcher: A Vampire Paranormal Romance (The Age of Vampyre Book 1)

by Sophia North

  "Mine, fuck-head. Piss off."

  Simone stifled a gasp as Vlad dragged her against him and suggestively licked her throat. "And only mine to taste." He then kissed her passionately, driving his tongue into her mouth before tossing her to the stage floor.

  The crowd roared in appreciation. "Silence!" Vlad commanded. "We are not here to watch me enjoy my latest toy - that's for the after-party." He winked suggestively and strutted the boards to loud laughter. "Why are we here?" he roared.

  "For Lowerton!" they shouted back.

  "And who's the enemy?"

  "Those who threaten, those who destroy!"

  "What happens to traitors?"

  "They die by our hand! By us who watch, by us who protect!"

  "Fuck yah, brothers - that's what I am talking about. Us, the Watchers!" Vlad walked the stage, his arms aloft like in victory, to his fellow Watchers chants. When the noise died down, he continued. "As you know, Dante and I claimed primitivus sangial, First Blood - which means you bunch of fuckers answer to us. Does anyone here dispute this?"

  The theatre went silent. "I didn't think so. Then let's get down to it. Brother Dante, the floor is yours."

  Dante joined Vlad on stage to address the group. "Brothers, Lowerton faces its greatest threat since The Terrors. Anton and his followers must be neutralised and then destroyed. They have used the Haan Prophecy to justify their actions to seize power and take control of the Vampyre world. And it is up to us to stop them."

  "But I thought you and your father were 'believers', mate. And didn't you just stand in front of the council and declare you had a vision about Anton's role and its relation to the prophecy?" Darius, who sat on stage with other senior vamps, provocatively drawled. A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.

  Leave it to fucking Darius to be the wrench in a perfectly good plan. Dante and Vlad had decided to keep the prophecy talk to a minimum, it wasn't exactly a crowd pleasing subject.

  "Yo, fuckhead," Vlad called out. "Are you challenging a First Blood?"

  Darius leaned back in his chair, undaunted by Vlad's threatening tone. "Easy, brother. A vamp's got a right to ask the question. Dante doesn't need to hide behind your skirts. First Blood doesn't mean you and he are dictators."

  No one expected what happened next. In an instant, Dante had Darius in a throat clamp, with his feet dangling off the ground. "It means you follow my fucking orders and keep your opinions to yourself." Tightening his grip, he continued. "Do you have a problem with that?"

  Darius grinned. "No, mate," he choked out. Dante released him. "Just wanted to see if you had the stones for the job," he rasped. "You do." He offered Dante his forearm and they clasped each other in solidarity.

  The scene settled, Dante turned back to the crowd. "We have enough to deal with, without vamp beliefs distracting us from our purpose. But I think we can all agree Anton is into some fucked-up shit regardless of the source. And we need to focus on the task at hand. Our first order of business is the tainted blood matter. Vlad and I have entrusted its investigation to Friend Horatio who is our guest tonight. Horatio, please - the stage is yours."

  Simone sat at Vlad's feet, her cheek pressed against his leather clad thigh. Not the most dignified position, but it meant she was in the heart of the action and could hear everything.

  Dante's request for Horatio made her heart skip a beat. What if the old man recognised her and blew their cover story to smithereens? Vlad, sensing her fear, splayed his hand across her face and in a dominating gesture turned and pressed it into his thigh. Simone was grateful to him for doing so - it ensured her anonymity remained intact.

  Horatio took centre stage, cleared his throat and began. "Thank you for having me here tonight. I realise for many of you, my presence is not a welcome sight. Yet, as Dante put it so eloquently, albeit in different words - now is the time for us to work together in order to preserve what has taken centuries to build. Human world, Vampyre world - we have lived in relative peace and prosperity for too long to let the whims of a mad vamp destroy it all."

  He paused, curious to see the reaction to his impassioned speech. The roar of approval that followed was inspiring. Every vampyre pounded the floor with their boots in a form of applause. Once it died down, Horatio continued.

  "I am pleased to report, after hours of testing and countless failures, we have created a vaccination which will protect any vampyre from current and future virus attacks."

  The theatre went silent again. Not the reaction Horatio expected.

  " 'ow do we know like, yew and yer kind ain't the ones responsible-like - fer everyting?" A heavily accented Cockney voice called out from the crowd.

  Horatio held a hand up to shield his eyes from the spotlights. "Yes, well Mr.? ..."

  "'Shit-for-brains but has a point'," another vamp filled in, causing a ruckus of guffaws to ensue.

  "Yew can call me Puck - me friends do," he eventually answered once the noise had died down. "And I ain't meanin' to be disrespectful-like, jest ain't it a tad coinky-dink yew have a cure an all?" he asked.

  "Puck, then," Horatio said with a nod. "I'll be honest with you, friend. I haven't ruled the possibility out."

  His honest answer brought a low murmur from the crowd.

  "But I can assure you - all of you - my work is of the highest ethics," Horatio continued. "My vaccination is only intended to serve you in your fight."

  "Alright den, I beleeb ya, er Sir...Horatio, sir."

  "Oh my good fellow, please – just Horatio between friends."

  Simone had listened intently to what Horatio said and during his assurances about the vaccine protecting future attacks, her senses perked up. He'd been dishonest about the facts.

  "Vlad," she whispered through firmly pressed lips.

  "Shut. It," he replied behind a clenched smile, clapping along with the others. She did as commanded. What other option did she have? He'd made himself very clear about her not speaking unless bidden to do so.

  After the applause died down, Dante again took command. "Next order of business: Fae relations."

  "Fuck the fae. Bunch of pixie cunts, only ever interested in what serves them best. Ye canna trust'em. Would trade their own kin and then turn round an blame ye for the crime," another anonymous voice called out.

  "Hamish, mate. You really need to get over '66 - you lost, they won. We need their help now - end of," Dante responded irritably. "Roxy, your report."

  A gorgeous brunette in an electric blue dress slit to the thigh, sauntered onto the stage, with each sway of her hips receiving an appreciative roar from the male audience. When she reached Dante he could not help smiling at the stir her attractiveness garnered. She ran her hands up his chest, into his thick chestnut hair and kissed him passionately.

  Simone did not react well to the spectacle, and if not for Vlad's very firm 'stay' and even firmer grip, she may very well have embarrassed herself.

  Once finished taking her fill, Roxy stepped away and ran a provocative finger around her blood red lips. "I always enjoy the taste of power," she purred seductively, then grabbed Dante's crotch and finished with: "But love the feel of it more. Especially from one with whom I've not had the pleasure to fuck...yet."

  Dante knew what role he had to play in return but was hesitant to act with Simone only a few feet away. Suddenly the doors to the theatre burst open and a beaten, dishevelled vamp came rushing through and shouted: "Under attack!"

  In the heat of the moment, Dante yelled out: "Vlad, get Simone and Horatio out of here, now!"

  "Noooo, Dante. Waaaiiitttt!" Simone screamed in vain, as she was hoisted over Vlad's shoulder and zipped away from the scene.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  DRAPED IN SILVER chains, Dante entered the coliseum for his long foretold confrontation with Anton. Not that he had a first clue about the importance of the upcoming encounter. Ironically, he was more pleased that his scheme to lure Samsun from the shadows had gone according to plan.

  More or less.<
br />
  What he hadn't been expecting was the full-scale coordinated attack. And in retrospect, he reckoned he had young Peterson to thank for that.

  After fighting like hell to make sure his brothers-in-arms were not all slaughtered because of his error in judgment, Dante ended up being surrounded and taken hostage by a group of Anton's followers.

  Hooded and thrown into the back of a van, he'd had little doubt his final destination would bring him face-to-face with Anton.

  As he walked down the central aisle of the Chamber, Dante marveled at the size of the crowd gathered. The place was packed to the rafters with a sea of unfamiliar faces, although there were some that he recognised, young Peterson being one of them. At least the mystery over which camp he was in had now been solved.

  Sprawled out in the Grand Elder's throne, sat the object of all the rife speculation...Anton, the Lowerton Elder turned traitorous cunt.

  Surrounded by scores of casually disposed corpses, he stared up at the dome of the coliseum, seemingly oblivious to the stench of death and growing mayhem. The crowds were jeering for Dante's head to be removed, but Anton did not seem to care. He was far too fascinated with the ceiling.

  Sitting to the right of him, in the First Elder chair, was Simmons. His gaunt features could barely contain his pleasure at having this particular vamp brought before him in chains.

  Nodding at the guards, Dante was thrown down in front of the smirking vampyre.

  "Welcome, Watcher Polidori. We've been patiently awaiting your visit. Shame your stubbornness has resulted in you being treated so... inhospitably," the-husk-with-a-voice crooned.

  So, the fucker wanted to play the 'We' game, did he? Dante wasn't about to indulge Simmons in such nonsense. He could care less about what he had to say, his interest focused on knowing what the fuck Anton intended.

  Regaining his feet took some doing. The silver chains drained him of strength - call it the vampyre equivalent to kryptonite. Yet, Dante refused to be on his knees as some kind of supplicant before the sanctimonious vamp.

  "Simmons, how predictable to discover your emaciated fingers all over this madness. I did hear of your miraculous rebirth as a Prophecy Believer," he returned with an easy smile once back on his feet. "But shit, I didn't expect you to be completely off your tits."

  Simmons stiffened slightly in his chair, before resuming with his pretend affable manner. "Yes, it is all a little mad and miraculous, I'll grant you that," he replied with a tight smile. "However my state of mind is firmly based in reality - unlike yours. How is your therapist, by the way? I heard she suffered a terrible vampyre attack and was...bitten. Oh dear, I do hope the poor thing recovered with all of her marbles intact. Vamp bites have such unfortunate side-effects for humans."

  The crowd roared with laughter at Simmons' sly comment. The great Watcher Dante Polidori, son of an Elder, needed a shrink. It was too funny.

  "Silence! I can't hear myself think with all this noise," Anton roared, stirred from his stupor.

  The coliseum did not make another peep.

  "Enough of this silliness, Simmons," he drawled, slowly unfolding his tall, languid frame from its sprawled position upon his usurped throne. "There is no need to taunt Dante over such meaningless drivel."

  "Ah, you still possess a tongue," Dante contemptuously replied, as he stared into his old friend's cold blue eyes. "I was starting to wonder if Simmons did all the talking for you."

  Anton laughed at the notion. "Dante, how you amuse me. So hell-bent on self-destruction, and yet...I still find myself wanting to help you. I suppose it's the remnants of our friendship that softens my heart."

  Dante sensed an in and took full advantage of it.

  "Our friendship can still continue if you cease with this madness and restore the rule of the Elders," he offered. "It's not too late, and I will do everything in my power to help you clean up this mess."

  Anton laughed even harder at Dante's pretty words. From the corner of his eye, Dante noticed several vampyres in the crowd take a half-step back in fear.

  "Not too late? Mate, the old ways of the Elders are finished!" he announced with great flair. "The time has come for a new world order to begin."

  "Jesus, and I thought humans were bad with their crackpot conspiracy theories," Dante mocked.

  "It's not a belief, but rather a fact," Anton insisted, before petulantly sighing. "Why must you always be so difficult?"

  Dante snorted. "I'm a Polidori, remember? We're known for being rebellious cunts."

  "That you are," Anton returned with a sinister smile. "Simmons, perhaps you can make my friend here see sense? I tire of having to explain myself."

  Silently sitting in his chair, Simmons studied the vamp Anton was obsessed about luring to their side. Personally, he didn't know why. Dante, along with his father, had been right pains in his ass for the last couple of centuries.

  Their noble name and ancient bloodline meant their place in the Empire had not been easy to ridicule in the eyes of those loyal to Lowerton. Many of the same holdouts had also refused to bend the knee to Anton, and in the end, paid for it with their lives.

  "It would be my pleasure, Anton. I've waited a long time to illuminate Dante on certain realities," the vamp deferentially replied, his black eyes dancing with delight. "It all comes down to blood, doesn’t it? Well, never mind. Every revolution requires its sacrifices. Gives the whole movement that extra bit of a...kick."

  "You're one dark fuck, Simmons," Dante growled menacingly. "There are legions who will never join this heresy you and Anton have concocted."

  With his lip curled in contempt, Simmons leant forward. "Those who refuse to bow down will be rounded up and executed," he snarled. "Even as we speak, there are teams out on the streets hunting for those with dreams of a different future, which begs the question...how much death are you willing to be responsible for in the coming war?"

  Dante remained silent, unwilling to enter into a discussion. He was disappointed by Anton's retreat behind Simmons' proverbial skirts. His reluctance to engage with him had Dante wondering what Anton was trying to hide.

  "Many will look to you for leadership," Simmons continued. "Be smart, Dante. Get them to return to Lowerton and accept Anton as their Supreme Ruler. I promise many of their old privileges will be restored. Otherwise, they will become enemies of the empire and hunted down until every last one of them has been exterminated."

  Big talk, Dante silently surmised.

  "What makes you think I have that kind of influence?" he asked with a laugh, but felt anything but casual about the situation.

  Simmons stroked his cheek with a long blackened nail. "We both know the answer to that, now don't we? Your name alone would bring them to heel, if you so chose to exert its power."

  "Oh, spare me your tale of woe over the unfortunate arrival of the Polidori's to these shores. My father earned his position in the Empire through his brilliance, and his brawn. Bloodlines ceased to be of any importance long ago when it comes to holding positions of importance, as we both know. Otherwise, you'd still be living in a catacomb feeding on rats."

  Low blow. But it had the desired effect. Simmons lost his shit.

  "Your continued resistance is nothing more than an act of futility. We have already won. Lowerton is ours!"

  Dante smirked at the sputtering vamp. "Lowerton is only yours by duplicity. Dismantling the council proves nothing," he challenged defiantly. "And as you will soon discover, holding Lowerton is not as easy as taking it by devious means."

  "My, my. Those sound like fighting words from the noble Dante Polidori," Anton remarked to Simmons. "I think it's time for this farce to end."

  Weaving his way from the Grand Elder’s throne, Anton sidled up beside him. "Oh come now, old friend. No one will plead for the return of such utter incompetence known as the Council of Elders. The Empire must be ruled by an iron fist not a velvet glove."

  Seeing the look of contempt on Dante's face, he added, "There was so much bickering an
d back-stabbing when they were in charge, wouldn't you agree? It's why Grand Elder Rolfe had to die. An example had to be made. But Marcion...well, he was just for fun."

  "You will be punished for your atrocities. I swear it on the blood that runs through my veins," Dante decreed in a harsh whisper.

  "Punished? Blood vows of vengeance?" Anton turned theatrically to Simmons in mock-surprise. "Did you ever hear such effrontery? He's got balls, I suppose."

  "We should dispose of him, Anton," Simmons eagerly encouraged. "What good is he to us?"

  "Ah! There are things even you, my dear Simmons, cannot begin to understand," Anton exclaimed. "Dante just needs a little convincing, is all. And let's be honest, we've always known it would come down to giving him that extra little nudge."

  "The only thing I'm convinced of is that you will pay for your crimes," Dante responded forcefully.

  "Really? Let's say you're right. Who is there to punish me? I'm more powerful than any vampyre who's ever existed. I'm here to lead us into a new age!"

  "Bold declaration, mate."

  "Yes, I agree it is," Anton replied silkily, almost sounding reasonable. "But it is possible, Dante! And there is a special place reserved for you. You shall have what I have. Forget about the Council. Forget about the past. Can you deny that you too have tired of our world's backward ways?"

  Shaking his head, Dante replied, "This is not the answer."

  "Look inside yourself, Dante. You know I speak the truth. Join me."

  "If only you could hear yourself, Anton. You speak like a madman."

  "But I live like a King!"

  With Anton so close, Dante noticed specks of scarlet on his white shirt. Blood, no doubt. "You're a self-confessed murderer," he said. "And now you have begun to kill humans - and in the sanctity of the Council Chamber, no less. Such flagrant behaviour merely shows the depths of your depravity."

  "Ha! Begun killing humans? Why, Dante, I've been killing humans for months. And none of you Watchers could stop me."

  "So it was you!" Dante accused. "Yet another sacred rule broken."