by Manuel Tiger
Only those pearls had been stripped from me and I was removed from the family tree – literally – and cast into the mud.
But I was free of those duties and responsibilities that came with being a Sullivan-Ambrose, as well as the wealth that would have been mine had I not “turned out” gay.
For a moment my father’s voice echoed those very words within my mind, gruff and thick with a Boston accent as well as that of seeing the image of him standing over me, belt in one hand and his other formed into a fist that he took turns raining down on me over and over and…
“You okay, Henry?”
I hadn’t realized I was embracing myself or that I was trembling slightly. Hearing Daman’s voice I dropped my arms to my side, cleared my throat and turned around to face him.
“Yes, fine, peachy,” I quickly said as he eyed me skeptically, but he made no further inquiry as he finished off his apple then tossed the core into the nearby stainless steel trashcan.
He hopped off the island and walked around the kitchen opening cabinets and peering inside and finally that of the large industrial size fridge.
“Are you finding things to your satisfaction, Mister Salvadori?”
We both jerked our gazes toward the stairs to see Ms. Goodwill standing halfway down them, one hand on the railing and her eyes locked on Daman.
“Your milk is expired,” he said closing the fridge door. “And so is the cheese. Might want to chuck them out before someone ends up stuck on a toilet having a night they will regret.”
“I will make a note of that,” she replied coming a step down. “Mister Sullivan? Miss Samantha and the council will meet with you and Mister Salvadori now.”
Daman walked over to me and extended an arm out. I said nothing about the gesture, the old memories of my childhood, my teen years, still gripping me as I rubbed the side of my neck half expecting to feel the tenderness of a bruise present and thankful that no phantom pain answered my touch.
I followed Ms. Goodwill up the stairs and once we reached the hallway we turned to the left passing by walls to either side adorned in priceless artwork which ranged from paintings, miniature sculptures, vases and antique tables on which sat vases of roses to perfume the air.
“Through here,” Ms. Goodwill said when we were halfway down the hall as she approached a double set of dark oak doors. She opened one and stepped inside and to the side waiting for me and Daman to enter.
“Henry,” he said catching me by the arm. I turned around frowning. “Are you okay?”
“I’m perfectly fine Daman,” I whispered.
“I sensed, well felt, your mood shift down there,” he said stepping closer. “You were thinking about him again weren’t you? Your father.”
I hated I had ever told him about my life given how things ended between us. I hated that I had opened up to him like I had, that I had trusted him as much as I did, that I had once been so in love with him as I had once been! I hated it all!
Somehow, I don’t know how, I managed to keep my composure when I answered him.
“Not a topic to be bringing up today,” I whispered harshly while looking him directly in the eyes. “Maybe when you abandoned me? You should have abandoned all knowledge of me as well.”
I jerked my arm from his grip, spun around and stepped through the door. I didn’t even have to look, that despite the words I had flung at him, he was sticking close to me.
“Henry,” Miss Samantha’s voice rang throughout the large meeting room as she approached me with arms spread and received me with a hug. She smelled of lavender and was smartly dressed in a light gray two piece business suit. She was in her late fifties, but like with most witches, she did not show her age at all. “I wish we were meeting under better conditions than what we are.” She pulled back and cupped my cheek gently with her face. “I’m sorry for what happened to Heather and we will get her back.”
I couldn’t say anything so I merely nodded as she turned and nodded her head toward the Council of Three who were seated behind a crescent moon shaped table that was placed in the middle of the room.
None went by their names as they were a guarded secret and simply had plaques in front of them that went in the order of Elder One, Elder Two and Elder Three.
“Henry, you’ve met the Council of Three before, yes?” Miss Samantha asked reaching up to tuck a lock of gray-blonde hair over an ear.
“Yes, I have, but in passing only,” I said nodding to the three women that rose and returned the nod. “Ladies,” I greeted. “An honor to be in your presence.”
Miss Samantha smiled then turned to look at Daman. “And who is this gorgeous man that you brought with you, Henry? Mister Salvadori is it?”
“Daman Salvadori,” he said stepping forward and taking Miss Samantha’s offered hand which he bent over and kissed the top of. He rose up, released her hand and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Well, I see old charms and manners have not entirely died out,” Miss Samantha said blushing. “But I forget myself. We must get to the matter at – ”
“Daman Salvadori. That’s a name I never thought I would see the face attached to.”
A very familiar husky, sexy, and so very proper British infliction toned voice drew all eyes toward the woman that was standing facing the bank of windows. I had not noticed her upon entry into the room, but I would know that voice from anywhere!
But at the same time I couldn’t believe that she would be here!
The woman turned around, her silken platinum hair brushing her shoulders as she fixed a hard, long, unblinking stare on Daman before shifting her attention toward me with an instant warmer look on that flawless beautiful face set with eyes the color of an early winter sky.
In the year that I had spent with her and the one who had helped me adjust to being a vampire she was always impeccably dressed, and now was no different.
She was wearing a powder blue Chanel sheath dress with matching sling backs, her graceful, tall, toned body showcased by the garment that she complimented instead of the other way around.
She was a sight for sore eyes.
“N-Nicole?” I whispered, shocked, surprised, stunned and everything else.
“Henry,” she said softening her tone as she crossed the room, drew me into an embrace and hugged me tightly. “It’s been too long Little One,” she said and then turned her head slightly so that her lips were near my right ear. “That is the one that abandoned you?” she asked in a whisper that only I heard.
“Yes, but not now,” I replied back in a lower whisper. She nodded and released me, but took hold of my hand into hers, squeezing it gently.
Nicolette “Nicole” D’Amour was the right hand of the one that had helped me. She served as that person’s trusted advisor and at times their enforcer and protector.
Her beauty beguiled all, but it was a lure for she is a woman to never be taken for granted for it could very well be at your own detriment.
In another lifetime she had been a skilled hunter, warrior and assassin for hire who hunted down her own kind – vampires.
Those skills she never lost.
She just hid the truth beneath beauty and silk, the blade that would be at your throat that you were unaware of till it was too late.
Nicole defended those she considered family and I was damn lucky to have been considered such by her when she could have easily ignored me during that year of adjustment, but she had not.
I honestly wouldn’t have blamed her if she had either. I was a confused, ungrateful mess that struck out at the one that was trying to help me adjust, to accept what I had become, and to get a hold on The Craving that made me its bitch. I was nothing sort of being a Class A asshole during that time, but not once had the person or Nicole and the others of that inner circle gave up on me.
“You look well Henry,” she said continuing to look at me. “A little on the thin side, but well.”
I smiled and squeezed her hand gently. “Thank you,” I said. “B
ut why are you here? Not that I don’t mind, but why?”
I could sense Daman staring at Nicole who flicked a glance at him, but otherwise she ignored him.
“Alistair was told of what occurred at the museum. We fear that it ties into something we have been following for a while which could be building to something with devastating consequences for the entire supernatural world.”
My eyes must have widened to twice their size. What the fuck was really going on?
“Ms. D’Amour was about to tell us what these consequences were when we were notified of your arrival,” Miss Samantha said retaking her seat at the crescent shaped table. “Ms. D’Amour, if you would kindly pick up or repeat what you were telling us for our new arrivals.”
“Of course,” Nicole said releasing my hand and walking over toward the table where she began going through several folders.
Daman stepped back near me, leaning in slightly. “Alistair?” he asked then his gaze jumped back to my ring again, realization coming to his face. “Alistair Crane is the one that helped you?” he whispered looking up at me.
“Mister Crane,” Nicole corrected. She didn’t even bother to look up from the folders she was shifting through. “Only those that are in Mister Crane’s inner circle of family may refer to him as Alistair.”
Daman looked at her with a smirk and turned back to me.
He went back to staring at my ring then finally lifted his eyes up to mine. “You had one of the oldest known vampires help you?” he said in disbelief. “Not the oldest, but the oldest?”
“We’ll talk about it later, Daman,” I said.
“Yes, for there are more important things at hand then discussing the one that stepped in to help Henry when you stepped out Mister Salvadori,” Nicole said not bothering to keep the ice out of her tone when she looked up and fixed that penetrating gaze on Daman.
He snorted and threw up his hands and paced away from me, but returned to stand at my side within seconds.
“Now,” Nicole said finding the folder she was looking for. “Nearly a month ago, an inquiry into a particular artifact came to the attention of Alistair Crane,” Nicole said reading from the pages within the folder. “For those that aren’t aware Alistair Crane owns Noir Auctions, a well-respected and prestigious auction house based in New York City with other locations in Lisbon, Athens and England.
“Noir Auctions typically handles estate sales, memorabilia sells for charity as well as for select clients we find those nearly impossibly hard to find items. But the most important duty that Noir Auctions performs is that of removing certain items from the public domain that need not be out there in the world.”
“What type of certain items would those be?” Daman asked.
“Items of immense power of which generally no good may come from if used by minds of ill intent, Mister Salvadori. We insure they are either destroyed and if they cannot be? We find a way to insure that they are never ever found again.”
He seemed satisfied with this answer, giving a nod of his head.
“That said, Noir Auction House was approached with a request to find three artifacts known as the Witch Stones. These stones have gone by various names throughout the course of time and date back to a rather dark era in the earth’s history,” she said. “I speak of the time when demons once ruled the earth and enslaved the first ancestors of mortals. It was during this time, shortly after the arrival of the First Witch, that the stones were created.”
At the mention of the term First Witch several of the council members gave a jerk in their seats.
“The…The First Witch?” Elder One said leaning forward.
“Yes,” Nicole replied. “She was tasked to end the rule of demons and was successful in doing so by sending them underground into their prison we now know as Hell, although some did manage to breed with mortals to past on their traits or magic. This union with mortals led to the rise of werewolves, vampires, and some lines of witches as well as other supernatural creatures.”
“Wait, First Witch?” Daman said. “I have never heard of her till now and I’ve been around witches most of my life.”
“It is a not a wildly known story,” Miss Samantha said speaking up. “We regard her and her story as something of a mythology story for witches.”
“It may not be myth,” Nicole said. “During the course of our research into the Witch Stones we discovered her to be quite real, to have started a bloodline which was tasked with defending the mortals from the powers and agents of darkness. That bloodline at some point crossed paths with the Vesta family which led to a creation of witch-vampire hybrids that were known as a powerful force for good in the world in their time.”
“The Vesta Family?” Elder Three said in surprise then snorted. She was a woman with graying hair swept back from a heart shaped face. “They themselves are said to be a rumor as well. Vampire royalty that once ruled then vanished from the world!” she chuckled. “I highly doubt such a family ever existed.”
Nicole smiled. “If such was true? Alistair Crane and most if not all vampires would not be existing to this day. For King Vesta was said to be the father of all vampires, or one of the many sources of vampires.”
The council member’s face drew stony as she sat back in her chair at this truth bomb that had been delivered on her.
This was all old news to me for during my year with Alistair Crane I learned that not all vampires came from the same family tree. There were varying trees of the vampire lines that were either similar in some ways or entirely different in other ways. And that wasn’t including those blood drinkers that were at times creations of bored gods.
“Now back to the Witch Stones,” Nicole said returning to her documents. “When we were tasked with finding these items and discovering the truth about them we made the choice not to find them for the client.”
“And why was that?” Miss Samantha asked.
“Because it seems these stones, once brought together, are key to the unlocking of an ancient evil from that long ago time. We do not have a full understanding of what this evil exactly is, but the prophecies that we found state that it would be a plague to the supernatural world. It would wipe out all supernatural creatures in existence.”
Nicole let this settle over the room and not a single person spoke.
We were all clearly stunned by this.
Nicole finally spoke after letting this information be absorbed. “I was informed by the council and Miss Samantha that there have been recent murders of witches as well as other supernatural creatures here in San Francisco.”
“Not just in San Francisco,” Daman spoke up. “A friend who is part of a coven in Richmond, Virginia are also facing attacks on the supernatural community there as well,” he folded his arms across his chest. “It would seem her coven found out about these Witch Stones as well for they sent me to the museum last night to retrieve the stone there before all hell broke out.”
“And the council sent Heather to retrieve the stone with Mister Sullivan,” Miss Samantha said bringing a hand to rest against her chin. “We performed a spell to help us in finding the ones responsible for these recent attacks on the witches of San Francisco. A spirit came through. It was one of the former founders of this coven. She told us that the stone that was on display at the museum would hold some answers to what was going on.”
“Now,” Elder Two said. “We cannot even contact the spirit or any spirits to help us in finding Heather or the stone! It is as if the spirit world has retreated from San Francisco as well.”
“Then that could mean things are more dire than we previously suspected,” Nicole said. “For last week there was an attack on a wolf pack in Chicago that was led by a very old werewolf. We do not know of his whereabouts. And before that there was an attack on several covens in Vermont, New Jersey and more throughout the United States. I received a report on my flight in this morning that the same is occurring in Europe as well, upon only the oldest covens and packs there.”
“But why? For what reason are these attacks occurring?” I asked.
“The client that came to us to find the stones, or one of them? After we found out the truth about the stones Alistair and I confronted the person. They were not forthcoming with information and in the end only whispered a few words,” Nicole replied.
“Which was what?” I asked again.
“The Great Reaping shall cleanse the earth and prepare the way.” She drew out a photo from a folder and held it out. “The individual sported this red cross on an emblem they were wearing. Does it look familiar to anyone here?”
Miss Samantha and the council members shook their head. I looked at Daman and he shrugged.
“Never seen it before,” he said.
I looked at the photo. It was a red cross that was longer at the bottom than it was at the top. “Looks like a Templar Cross, only, you know, longer.”
“That’s what we thought as well,” Nicole said. “We are looking into it but Alistair believes that it could be tied to the Vatican and we have someone on the inside looking into things.”
“You think the Vatican could be behind this?” Miss Samantha said shocked.
“It wouldn’t be the first time the Holy Church went after the supernatural,” Nicole replied. “The Crusades and The Inquisition are but some examples of them covering up their true actions which was to root out the supernatural and then use whatever they attained for their own purposes.”
“Then it would seem what generations before us have always feared is finally happening, or starting to happen,” Miss Samantha said. “War has been declared on all the supernatural races.”
“We have tried to find out if there are any survivors from those covens and packs attacked. To get information from them on what happened,” Nicole said. “We have not been able to find a single survivor.”