A Monster's Death

by Raven Steele

  I circled the large block, driving slowly. Oz's laptop was open with his cell phone plugged into it. He tapped out a series of commands, cursed a few times, and continued to type. "Almost got it…done."

  I turned the car onto the next street over. I had already scouted out the perfect place to park the vehicle earlier that day. It was down an alley between two buildings that were closed for the night. I parked the car behind a large dumpster where no one on the street could see it.

  Oz exited the car, taking only his cell phone and a small electronic box that fit in his fanny pack. He held his phone in front of him and inspected a map on the lit-up screen. "We need to access the fence on the southeast side where there are fewer cameras."

  I nodded and made my way back to Victor's with Oz trailing next to me. We fell in line with a cluster of people walking to the Devil's Playground, all dressed up for the night. They buzzed with excitement. It was the birthday of one of the girls in the group and they planned on celebrating with a bang.

  We pretended to celebrate with them, but separated at the front entrance and circled around the gate toward the rear of the property and Victor's home.

  "This is it," he said, glancing down at his phone.

  We stopped next to the tall fence and concealed ourselves beneath the shade of oak tree branches above us. It was a full moon, so we would have to be extra careful. I pulled on my ski mask, as did Oz. We couldn't have him recognized either.

  "Hold on," I said.

  He jumped onto my back and wrapped his arms around my neck. I held onto his legs, crouched low, and leapt into the air, up and over the wall. We landed on the other side, and I quickly spun behind a tree. Oz slid off my back and pulled out his phone from his pocket.

  I glanced all around, my night vision coming in handy. There were lots of trees across the huge lawn, creating many shadows. I counted five guards in the distance, one of them walking our way while staring down at his phone. So far no one seemed to have noticed our arrival.

  "Get ready to run," Oz said. "When I hit this button, we will have exactly four seconds to get to the next location or we will be seen. Do you think you can keep up?"

  I smirked. "Can you?"

  He tapped the screen on his cell phone. "This is where we want to go."

  I eyed the path he'd created that led to Victor's house. "Got it."

  He looked up, his finger hovering over the screen. When he thought it was safe, he said, "Go!"

  He pressed a button on his phone. I couldn't tell if anything happened, but he started running, so I followed. I could have easily passed him, but stayed close while I counted in my head. If he couldn't move fast enough, I would pick him up and carry him if I had to.

  He stopped near the base of a tall tree and motioned me to do the same. We hid behind its thick trunk and once again surveyed the grounds. There weren't that many guards on this part of the property. I could see two in the distance talking to each other.

  We waited several minutes. Oz picked at the bark on the tree while I eyed the upstairs of Victor's home, trying to determine the location of his room.

  "Get ready to run again," he said and tapped on his phone.

  We sprinted to the next spot. I silently counted, but when I reached "three", Oz tripped in front of me. He almost hit the ground, but I picked him up by the back of the shirt and tossed him the rest of the way. He landed beneath a tree. I helped him up and pulled him behind the trunk.

  Oz moaned. "That hurt."

  I looked around the tree hoping we hadn't been seen, but no one came. "That was incredibly lucky."

  We continued this process of starting and stopping several more times until we reached the back corner of the house. There was one more obstacle we had to pass before getting inside: hacking the code to get in the front door.

  Crouching down between two bushes, Oz leaned forward and peered around the side toward the front door.

  "There's no one there." He looked back at me. "Weird, right?"

  I double checked. Sure enough, the front door had been abandoned. I leaned back against the stone wall of the house. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would he leave the entryway unguarded?”

  "Maybe the guard's on a break," he said, shrugging. "Or maybe there was a fight at the Devil's Playground and they needed extra guys to break it up."

  A feeling of doubt wormed its way into my gut. Something wasn't right. If there was one thing I knew about Victor in the short time I'd been around him, it was his ability to make sure every detail was taken care of.

  This was a trap.

  34

  Oz stared at me as if trying to read my thoughts.

  "Do you want to bounce?" he asked.

  Feeling uneasy, I swiveled around and stared up at the house, focusing all of my senses. I didn't hear much going on. In fact, I didn't hear anything. "The place sounds empty."

  "My girl said he would be here. She said he always sleeps for three hours during this time. I don't know why Victor's schedule would suddenly change."

  "I'm not saying it's changed, but why are there no men around here? If his sleeping habits are common knowledge, then he should be well guarded during this time."

  He shrugged again and looked around. "It's not like he's not protected. There are still plenty of guys patrolling the place, and the security system is on."

  I considered his words. Very few people would've been able to get as far as we had through all the cameras and men. Maybe Victor didn't feel threatened in his home and that's why there was no one directly in front. Or maybe this was deliberate. Roman had said Victor seemed to have a sixth sense. Maybe he knew I was coming somehow, which meant this really was a trap.

  But did that matter?

  "Let's get this over with," I said and advanced onto the front porch.

  Oz scrambled after me. While I kept watch, he took off the panel of the keypad and attached wires from his electronic box. He pressed a series of buttons, eyeing it intensely. Less than a minute later, the front door clicked open.

  "Hurry," he said. "I'll wait for you in the car."

  Instead of reaching for the knives in my boots, I withdrew the scimitar blade from behind my back and slipped inside the door. I closed it softly, listening to the sounds in the home. I could hear a little bit better now that I was inside. In an upstairs bedroom, someone breathed steadily in and out, slow deep breaths.

  I crept up the staircase, completely silent on the balls of my feet. Roman had taught me how to be as quiet as a ghost. Not even Roman could hear me coming if I didn't want him to.

  The mansion smelled faintly of filet mignon and garlic. Remnants of an earlier feast. It made me realize how long it had been since I had eaten. I had been too consumed by anger to think of anything else.

  I turned down a long carpeted hallway. Pictures hung on the wall, photographs of different scenes of nature. I paused at one of them. It was of the ocean at sunset. A sailboat skimmed the waters in the background. Kristen had the same photograph hanging on the wall in her house. She said my mother had taken it.

  I gripped the scimitar tighter as anger swelled within me. I glanced up and down the hallway at the other photographs. Had my mother taken those, too? What had they meant to each other? So many emotions raced through me and confusion filled my mind. In the end, it didn't matter what she had meant to him and vice versa. Victor was a poison in this city and had to be stopped.

  With new resolve, I crept down the hallway toward the sound of steady breathing. When I reached the closed door, I pressed my ear to it. Only one person was in there.

  I placed my hand on the metal doorknob and slowly turned it. It whispered across the carpet as I opened it wide. My heart began to pound harder than it ever had before.

  The master bedroom was surprisingly simple and ordinary unlike the rest of the house. A black dresser pressed against the wall, a tall laundry basket full of clothes next to it. A four-poster bed dominated the room with a bench seat at its end. A wide and tall window t
o my left spilled moonlight into the room. There was so much of it that I could see dust motes swirling into the air, something I usually only caught in sunlight.

  Victor lay asleep on the bed. He was on his back wearing a white t-shirt and boxer shorts. A blanket had been kicked to his feet.

  He was massive, taking up much of the king-size bed. I only had one shot at this. I could stab him in his heart, but according to Roman, if I didn't cut off his head as well or light him on fire, he would turn into a vampire. I couldn't imagine a worse scenario for the city. He was bad enough as a human, but as a vampire, he could be unstoppable.

  I looked down at the scimitar in my hand. Moonlight reflected on its blade. I could do this. I swallowed around an immoveable knot in my throat. This would be the first person I will have killed deliberately. I had been living in my father's false shadow for so many years that it filled me with dread to go against the moral code I'd always held on to.

  My eyes flickered to Victor. It had to be done.

  I snuck to his bed and lifted the scimitar high. One clean swipe to his neck and this would all be over.

  I swiped the blade down, but just before it met its mark, Victor's eyes flew open and his hand shot forward, catching my wrist in his grip. Before I got over my shock, he punched me square in the chest. I flew through the room and crashed into the wall, crumbling the drywall. I gasped for air.

  Victor slid from the bed and rose high, chuckling. "You must've been real proud of yourself a moment ago, thinking you would be the one to kill me."

  I struggled to catch a breath. It felt like my sternum had shattered directly into my lungs.

  He stepped toward me and stared down. "There's no need to bother with the mask. I know who you are, Adam."

  I rasped in a shaky breath, shocked. How had he known? My lungs burned, and I ripped the ski mask from my face, hoping I could catch some fresh oxygen.

  "It was the night of the fight," he explained. He crouched down next to me and watched me struggle. "It was a disappointing revelation. You were such a great fighter, and I had high hopes for you, but then I discovered that punk kid had been rescued. When I surveyed the area, I smelled you. You were everywhere in that room. Your sweat, your cockiness, your pride in your accomplishment. It made me sick to smell all your emotions polluting my business."

  I finally managed to get air back into my lungs, but the pain in my chest still pulsed across my body.

  "Why wait?" I rasped. "Why not just kill me?"

  "I thought about doing that. I don't like being betrayed, but there was something special about you. You're not like most men, and I wanted to know why."

  I pulled my feet beneath me and slowly stood up. Victor rose with me. We were practically at eye level, but he had maybe an inch on me. He looked back and forth in each of my eyes. "Who are you really?"

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the scimitar lying on the ground. I had to finish what I came for.

  "I asked you a question," he said. "You can't beat me, so get any thoughts of that out of your head right now. If you want to live, you will answer."

  He moved like he was going to reach for me, but I ducked and somersaulted across the floor until the long blade was in my hand. I jumped to my feet and lunged forward, the scimitar aimed at his heart. He easily knocked it away and it flew through the room. It's sharp edge stuck into the wall. He swung his fist, but I ducked and punched into his side. He grunted, but only a little.

  He stepped back as I continued to swing. He blocked a few of my jabs, but I managed to land several to his side and stomach. When I spotted an opening, I cocked my fist back and shot it forward. I hit him in the jaw and his head jerked back. He stumbled into the window. A web-like crack exploded across the glass. I hurried back and ripped the scimitar from the wall.

  Victor chuckled and wiped blood from his lip. "You are strong. Stronger than any man who has dared fight me. But it's time I got answers."

  I rushed him and leapt into the air in a sideways jump, my feet aiming for his chest. But it was like I was moving in slow motion. Victor managed to step out of the way and grab my legs at the same time. He whipped me around, and I collided into the two bottom posts of the four-poster bed, snapping them in half. I collapsed onto the floor and groaned as pain wracked my body.

  Victor stomped toward me and lifted his great foot. It came crashing down and I just barely managed to roll out of the way. A heartbeat later, he kicked me in the gut. I flipped upward and smashed down on the bed's end table. The corner of it stabbed into my side, breaking the skin. Warm blood spread across my flesh.

  He picked me up by the back of my hair and flung me forward. My head smacked into the wall, leaving a big dent. Despite the pain, I scrambled away and reached for the knives in my boots. I straightened and slashed at Victor when he came for me, but he dodged all of my blows.

  I growled in frustration. He had the upper hand and he knew it. We both did. I had to do something different or this was going to end badly for me and everyone I care about.

  Guessing that he expected me to punch him again, I did the unexpected. I dropped to the ground and kicked his knee. It buckled and he fell to the ground, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.

  I scrambled to my feet and slashed the dagger at his neck, just as he moved away. It cut into his skin, but not deep enough. He growled and blocked my next swing. I rammed my knee forward, connecting with his mouth. Blood spurted from his lips. Lifting my fist, I punched forward but he caught it and twisted hard, bringing me to the floor with him.

  I ignored the pain and swiped the knife in my other hand toward his ribs, but he blocked this one, too, and knocked the knife out of my grip. Before I could do anything else, his large hand came around my throat and squeezed tight. Struggling for breath, I tried to pry his grip away, but he wouldn't budge. He pressed me to the floor, and his knee clamped down on both of my legs, preventing me from kicking at him.

  He leaned over, putting all of his weight on me. It felt like a train car had been dropped on top of me. No matter how many times I hit at his hand or tried to punch at his face, his grip didn't loosen. Reds and blues crowded my vision. If I didn't do something, I was going to pass out. Death would surely follow.

  "Tell me who you are," he ordered.

  He relaxed his grasp just a little, and I sucked in air greedily. But I didn't answer him. There's no way I could tell him who I really was.

  "I think you might need a little incentive. I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to this." He punched me hard in the face. The pain was excruciating, mind-numbing. I couldn't fight back if I wanted.

  Still keeping pressure on my throat, he reached into his pocket and removed his cell phone. After pushing several buttons, he held the phone to his ear. "Show me the girl."

  My dizziness cleared right up, and I was more alert than I'd ever been. Fear gripped my chest, horror washing over me as I realized he’d taken Emma.

  He turned the phone my direction and on the screen sat Emma tied to a chair, her head slumped forward. Someone out of the camera's view smacked her head. She lifted her face and stared forward. Her mascara was smeared around red and swollen eyes. Her mouth had been taped shut.

  White hot rage burned through my mind and veins until I shook. He’d taken her. The woman I loved.

  Victor pocketed his phone. He punched me again. "I would kill you now, but I'm too curious to know who you are. Tell me your real name, and I'll let the girl go." He tilted his head as if considering his own words. "Actually, we won't. Maybe. It really depends upon who you are and why you want me dead. So let's start there. I want your name."

  I couldn't tell him who I was because that would put Kristen’s life in danger, but if I didn't tell him, then Emma … either way, someone I loved was going to be hurt.

  I considered my options. I could try fighting again, but I clearly wasn't strong enough. I could admit that now and the revelation was devastating. Roman was right. I was no match for Victor. Not as I was, and no
w it was too late to turn.

  I really screwed this up.

  Maybe there was a way out of this.

  If he knew who I was, he might show mercy. He did have feelings for my mother at one point, although I'm not sure how deep they went.

  When he reached back to hit me again, I blurted, "My name is Aris. Aris Crow."

  He hesitated for just a second before his fist slammed into my eye socket. Pain exploded in my head. I moaned and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. I heard him breathing heavily over me with a sudden anger he didn't have before.

  "Aris Crow is dead, and you will die for using his name."

  Thinking of Emma, I gathered as much strength as I could and rolled out from under him, which wasn't too difficult. He was shaken up and not applying his full body weight anymore.

  I got up on all fours and stumbled to a standing position. Victor rose to his feet, his hands balled tight.

  "I'm Daisy's son," I gasped, trying hard to keep my feet beneath me.

  His fist crashed into the side of my head. I fell into the dresser.

  "I'm Aris Crow," I said again, my voice stronger.

  He punched me again, driving my face to the ground. I fell onto all fours and slowly crawled away from him.

  "I'm Aris Crow," I repeated over and over, the words giving me enough strength to stay conscious.

  "Aris Crow is dead!" he roared. He kicked me in the stomach, flipping me over onto my back.

  Through labored breathing, I said, "Think about it."

  If he hit me one more time, I may not be able to get back up.

  He stared down at me, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. I could see his mind working quickly, thinking of everything he knew about me. A change came over his expression, one more of wonder than anger. He stumbled back.

  I took this opportunity to pull myself back onto my feet. I used the wall for support as I stumbled out of the room and down the hallway. I nearly fell on the stairs, but clung to the rail tightly. His footsteps never came after me as I hurried out of the house.