by N M Thorn
“Who hired you?” Damian took the bottle and refilled their shot glasses.
She moved her glass closer but didn’t lift it, her fingers tracing the edge absentmindedly. He didn’t rush her, allowing her to take her time with the answer. After a few seconds, she lifted her face. Her facade of cockiness and arrogance was gone, replaced by discomfort and a semblance of bitterness.
“Damian,” she said, her deep voice wavering slightly. “I need you to swear that everything I’m going to tell you will stay between us.”
“That depends on—”
“No conditions.” She slammed her hand on the table, spilling some vodka. “Unless you give me your word, I can’t disclose anything to you.”
She’s trouble. Just say no and don’t do anything you’ll regret later. A thought zoomed through his mind, and he frowned, exploring her tense features. Keep your friends close, keep the little dark horses…
“Fine, I promise that anything of any importance you say to me here will stay between us,” he said at length. “Do you need me to swear on my blade?”
She glanced around, catching Kaleb’s friendly nod, and shook her head. “No, Damian. Something tells me you’re a man of honor. So, no more games. I need your help, and I believe you need mine, even though you don’t know it yet. Let’s talk.”
“So, who hired you?” asked Damian.
“You’re not going to like the answer to that question,” she murmured as she refilled Damian’s glass and moved it closer to him. “The Sisterhood of the Sun.”
Damian froze in place, unable to move a muscle. The Sisterhood of the Sun was an ancient organization of powerful witches who dedicated their lives to exterminating vampires and anything without a heartbeat. Skilled not only in witchcraft but also in martial arts, combat magic and a few other, more obscure branches of the Light and Dark Arts, these women were forceful and ruthless in anything to do with the undead.
It wasn’t enough to be magically gifted to be even considered for the Sisterhood. The candidates had to possess certain trades as humans and witches to be accepted into this highly secretive, ancient Order, and once accepted, their training was harsh and vigorous, turning them into merciless killing machines. When it came to vampires, they preferred to shoot first and ask questions later.
She probably read the expression of horror in his eyes, because she reached forward and touched his arm, causing him to pull back.
“Relax, Damian,” she said softly. “They are not after your brother. Cole Adams is not on their list. I would know if he was.”
Damian grabbed the glass and downed its contents in one gulp, exhaling a rugged breath. “Why did they hire you?”
“I already told you,” she whispered, glancing toward the bar. “The disappearance of witches and the events surrounding them. It started a while ago, but what attracted the Sisterhood’s attention was that whoever runs this show was using vampires to keep their victims subdued.”
Damian nodded, his fingers crumpling the napkin as an image of the room they had discovered in the house flashed before his eyes. The three women, dazed or unconscious, were addicted to the vampire bite so severely, they probably couldn’t distinguish dream from reality.
“Cole captured one of the vampires,” he said at length. “Hopefully, he’ll be able to get some information out of him.”
“I doubt it.” Zabava glanced out the window, a flare of light crossing her face as a lonely car rushed along the empty street, disappearing into the darkness. “I think the vamps are just doing someone else’s bidding, and until we find out who’s at the top of this evil pyramid, we won’t be able to stop whatever it is they’re doing.”
“Cole has his… skills,” muttered Damian, wincing inwardly at how cold he sounded when he said it. “If this vamp has any information, my brother will know it by tomorrow.”
“That’s good.” Zabava averted her eyes, staring at her clenched hands. “At first, I thought it was a witch-hunter, you know?” She chuckled mirthlessly. “It’s hard to believe, but these evil bastards still walk the human realm as if we never left the Dark Ages.” She massaged her wrists where the iron chains had chafed her skin. “Believe it or not, they’re still using Malleus Maleficarum—the Hammer of Witches—as their go-to handbook.”
Her teeth squeaked as she pressed her jaws, anger darkening her green eyes. For a few endless seconds, she remained silent, visibly fighting to keep her emotions under control.
“Anyway,” she proceeded at length, “I don’t think we’re dealing with a witch-hunter. I think it’s a lot worse.”
“How so?”
“They don’t torture the witches. There is no evidence that any of them were burned at the stake either,” said Zabava. “And why would any witch-hunter need vampires to keep their victims compliant and submissive? They never work with anyone outside their clans.” She pulled back and lifted her hand to stop him from interrupting. “And here is the most important fact that makes me believe it has nothing to do with the witch-hunters. All witches that I’ve discovered so far—dead or alive—were completely drained of their magical energy.”
She glanced around and lowered her voice, speaking so softly that Damian could barely make out her words. “Someone is abducting witches to collect their magical energy, and we need to figure out who it is and why they need so much of it.”
“Magical energy, as well as the energy of a human soul, is an expensive commodity. Not easy to come by,” said Damian, trying to shuffle through the sudden disarray of thoughts in his mind. “Some supernatural entities would pay a pretty penny for that, and in some locked realms like the Dark Nav, for example, the magical energy can buy you a way out to freedom.” He rubbed his cheek, frowning. “It could be anyone, anywhere.”
“You’re right,” Zabava agreed with a short nod. “But maybe we could narrow it down a little. My investigation led me here, to your territory. Just like in every other state, there are a few powerful but shady supernatural organizations in Arizona. I have reason to believe that the head of one of these organizations is directly responsible for this… witch-hunt, for lack of a better word. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a way to breach their defense and security mechanisms. To make a long story short, I couldn’t get past the lowest levels of their organization, and the man I’m searching for is at the very top.”
She chuckled humorlessly and looked away, two bitter wrinkles materializing around her mouth.
“What organization are you talking about?” asked Damian. Deep inside, he already knew the answer, but somewhere even deeper, he hoped he was wrong, and it wasn’t the case.
“Underground fighting circles,” Zabava replied, a dark shadow of anger darkening her face. “I believe the man we’re looking for is the mysterious Head of the Arizona House.”
“Dammit,” Damian muttered, his fingers rubbing the edge of his bracelet absentmindedly.
“A few years ago, someone was able to bring down two underground fighting Houses—California and Florida,” she continued, drilling him with her unnaturally bright eyes. “It didn’t stick, but at the time, this person was able to get to the very top. With his help, the Head of the Florida House was arrested, and the Head of the California House was killed.”
“I heard about that.” Damian huffed, shaking his head. “Do you know what it took for this man to achieve that?” he asked. “He went deep undercover and sold himself into slavery to become one of the captive fighters. Sorry, Zabava, but I’m not willing to do something as stupid and reckless as that. Underground supernatural fighting pits are a dangerous place, and as a captive fighter, you may never meet the Head of a House at all. Too big of a risk with a possibility of zero reward.”
“Who’s talking about you becoming a slave?” Zabava rolled her eyes. “I don’t think anyone in the Arizona House is stupid enough to enslave a Destiny Enforcer. Even if you conceal your power and go deep under, I don’t think you’re the best candidate for this mission, anyway. But an ancient vampire�
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Before she could finish her sentence, Damian’s arm snapped forward, seizing her wrist. He yanked her across the table and leaned closer to her. “You finish that statement, and I swear to all the gods I know, I’ll smash your head against this wall,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his glowing eyes just inches away from hers. “I will not risk my brother’s freedom and safety. I don’t care what’s at stake. If you want to work with me, get it through your thick skull—Cole is off-limits.”
He pushed her arm away, releasing her, and fell back in his seat. Rage locked his body, spiking the elemental power around him, and the walls of the building rattled slightly, causing Kaleb and the werewolves to turn around and stare at him in shock.
“Shish,” she huffed, massaging her bruised wrist. “Relax, dude. You need to lighten up a little. If you don’t want Cole involved in this, I’m not gonna say anything to him.” She thought for a moment and added, “But don’t you think you got him involved already?”
Damian took a deep breath, getting his anger and power under control. “Yes, he is involved, but you don’t know my brother the way I do.” He couldn’t help but smile. “He is stupidly brave and reckless, and it’s impossible to keep him away from a good fight. This is why I don’t want you to say anything to him about going undercover. He’ll jump at this opportunity without thinking twice.”
Especially since Cole has a reason to believe his maker is held against his will somewhere in the pits. Damian sighed, thinking about what he had to do next.
“Fine.” Zabava pursed her lips, raking her fingers through her short hair. “Do you have any other ideas?”
Damian was going to reply, but the persistent vibration in his pocket interrupted him. He raised his hand and held out his index finger, asking her to wait. Then he pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen, his eyes widening in disbelief.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Who said the gods are not watching and listening? Sneaky bastards…” He glanced at Zabava and added in a quick whisper, showing her the phone with Ricardo Torres’ name on display, “This could be our key to unlocking the door to the upper levels of the Arizona House without anyone going into slavery.”
Damian answered his phone, and as Ricardo proceeded to talk, he rose slowly, his fingers nearly crushing the device. A few seconds later, he hung up and put the cellphone on the table. Leaning forward, he propped his fists against the tabletop and stared at a photo of Cole and River on the lock screen.
He had taken this picture a few weeks ago on the driveway in front of Paradise Manor. Cole and River had a mock fight, and his brother had lifted her, holding her in his arms, while she tried to free herself, fighting the vampire’s grip with all she had. Damian had captured this moment with his phone’s camera, and right now, looking at their smiling faces and sparkling eyes, he thought that he managed to freeze a small piece of happiness forever.
Zabava got up and walked around the table, touching his shoulder. As he straightened and raised his head, running his fingers through his hair to cover his scar, she tapped his cellphone with her finger, pointing at Cole.
“I thought Destiny Enforcers weren’t supposed to have personal attachments,” she said softly. “Is that going to be a problem, Commander?”
He took the phone and shoved it in his back pocket, looking down at her icily.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice a dangerous growl. “Destiny Enforcers are not supposed to have personal attachments. But Cole isn’t that at all. He is—” He cut himself off, pressing his lips into a firm line. “He’s my only brother. My flesh and blood. He’s the only alive part of me. Everything else has been dead for centuries. You kill him, and you’re not going to like the man left standing. So, the next time you get a bright idea of throwing my brother into modern-day slavery, you think twice.”
“Got it. The King of the Arizona Vampire Court, who happens to be your brother, is off-limits.” Zabava looked at him without trying to conceal her curiosity. “How about Detective Redhead?”
“What about her?”
“Who is she to you? And if push comes to shove, is she going to be a liability?” Zabava touched his hand, but he pulled it away. “I’m not trying to pry into your private life, Damian, but I need to know that in a dangerous situation, you won’t take a knee because some evil dude dangles the life of your brother or your woman’s safety over your head. I need to know I can count on you to do your job no matter what.”
Damian sighed, recognizing the truth in her words. This was exactly the reason why Destiny Enforcers didn’t have a personal life. They either worked alone or with a small team of other Enforcers.
“She’s a friend,” he replied, staring to the side, his chest too tight to speak louder. “My happy memory… A dream of what could have been if I wasn’t—” He shook his head and exhaled, closing his eyes. “Don’t worry, I know how to do my job.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Placing a few twenty-dollar bills on the table, he waved goodbye to Kaleb and headed toward the door, motioning for her to follow. Once they were outside the bar, he turned the corner, moving briskly toward the dark alley he used as his teleportation point.
“You never told me what you are, by the way,” he said, barely glancing at her. “I know you’re a PI, but what’s your supernatural identity?”
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t believe you needed to know,” she replied calmly. “For now, all you need to know is that I’m a powerful witch who’s here to help. When the time comes—if it comes at all—I promise I’ll show you my entire pedigree.”
Damian stopped in the middle of the alley, quickly scanning it with his other sight.
“Fine,” he replied, his mind racing. “I’m going to need a few days to do some checking around. How can I find you once I’m ready?”
“I’m staying at the Night Owl Inn.” She beamed and winked. “I believe you know where that is?” He nodded. She extended her hand to him, wagging her finger impatiently. “Give me your cellphone, big boy.”
He reached into his pocket and produced his phone, unlocking it. She grabbed it and took a quick selfie, giving a flirtatious wink and a lopsided grin to the camera. Then she opened his contact list and added her phone number, applying the photo she had just taken to the new contact.
“When you’re ready, call me.” She gave him his cellphone back, but before he could say anything, she snapped her fingers and vanished.
For a moment, he stood with his jaw dropped, but then shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Witch my ass. Whatever this woman is, she is lying through her teeth. Witches don’t teleport.”
With a light snap of his fingers, he vanished from the dark alley.
Chapter 4
~ Cole Adams ~
Cole walked through the dark hallways of Luciano’s mansion, the hollow sound of his steps bouncing from wall to wall. Even though it had been a while since Luciano’s death, he couldn’t get used to his absence, and every time he entered this house, decorated in Tuscan style from the early fifteen century, he couldn’t help but think about the man who had stood by his side for over a thousand years. A familiar sweet scent of jasmine touched his nostrils, and his still heart gave a painful jolt as it reminded him of a trusted friend whom he would never see again.
He made his way to a large room at the back of the house. Kicking the door open, he walked inside and dumped the vampire to the floor by the wall. The man stirred, a tortured moan escaping his lips. His eyeballs moved under his tightly shut eyelids, and finally, he cracked his eyes open, staring somewhere at the ceiling without blinking.
His cuffed arms jerked up to the bleeding wound on his chest, and he moaned again. Cole seized his shoulders and hauled him up into a sitting position, resting his back against the wall. As the vampire’s eyes settled on Cole’s face, an expression of shock crossed his features, quickly replaced by that of fear. He struggled to get to his knees but f
ell back, a groan of pain breaking through his tightly pressed lips.
“I know who you are,” he said, trying to change his position, but Cole pushed him back against the wall with his foot. “You’re the King of the Arizona Vampire Court.” He looked around wildly, confusion written all over his face. “Where am I?”
“Arizona,” Cole replied, squatting in front of him.
The vamp gasped, his eyes bulging. “How did I get here? What am I doing here?” His eyes fell on the bleeding wound on his chest, and just now Cole noticed a small rune partially destroyed by the injury burned into the vampire’s skin. “Why am I not healing?”
Cole stared at him in shock, thousands of thoughts crowding his mind. It appeared as though this man couldn’t remember anything that had happened to him at least in the last few hours, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that strange rune had something to do with it. Even though it looked familiar, he couldn’t remember where he’d seen it, and that just added to his sense of foreboding. Since he hoped to get some information about the people who abducted these witches, the man’s amnesia wasn’t helping him to achieve this goal either.
“Let’s take one step at a time.” Cole walked away and pulled a chair closer to his prisoner. He sat down and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You’re not healing because of the restraints I placed on you. Look at the handcuffs. The runes engraved in them are partially suppressing your essence. They’re not going to kill you, but you can’t self-heal, and you’re no longer as fast and strong as you used to be.”
“Your Majesty, please.” The vampire raised his hands, pressing them together in a pleading gesture. “I don’t understand. What did I do to—"
“For now, let me be the one who asks questions,” Cole interrupted him, raking the vampire with a heavy stare.