“No, I have to get back home to Carolina. See to it that the proper reports are sent to my uncle,” Maximus said not slowing his pace.
It was a lie. Carolina was not at home waiting for him as she should be. Carolina was locked away at a rehab facility. She’d been after Maximus for ages about having a chance to mingle with real-life vampires. She had chosen the facility as a controlled environment, knowing Maximus would never allow her to go out into the real world. Carolina was smart, but Maximus was smarter. It was a terrible idea, but with Maura on the loose it was better she was away from the family at the moment. No matter how much Maura had evolved, one thing would never change. Maura had a taste for purebloods, and it was only a matter of time before she made her move against them once again.
Sadness so deep it chilled his bones crept over him. Maura had done so much damage already. The curse she’d placed on his family had taken more than just the life of his great, great, grandfather. Every woman to mate into his family had passed of some unexplained illness. No woman had been born to their line since Maura’s uprising. At least until Carolina and Maximus lived every day in fear that she too would fall prey to the curse.
Many magic wielders had been put to death as retaliation for helping Maura. They were all but extinct at this point, and the few survivors were weak from lack of practice and fear. He’d managed to find a few powerful ones. Slaves that he kept to casts wards and protective spells over his household. He even forced them to feed Carolina so she may carry some magic blood to help ward off the curse if it ever came for her.
Maximus wished the rumors had been true. That Molly had stolen all of Maura’s power. Then he could have killed her and ended the threat. Ended the curse on his family. Maybe she was exactly what he’d thought. There was no way for Maximus to do anything about it now. The council didn’t see her as a threat even if he did. They had only agreed to this meeting because Maximus was a pureblood and could make their lives hell if they’d disagreed. They could care less about any of Maura and her progeny as long as they weren’t blatantly killing other vampires. Maximus would have to keep an eye on Molly. Even more so than the three remaining of Maura’s Men.
Cat had been pacing the halls of the mansion for hours. The last twenty-four hours had been nerve-racking for her. Cat wasn’t even the one being forced in front of the council. Being Xander’s mate, she was under his jurisdiction which meant she was just as much an outsider as he was. A social pariah which was honestly fine with Cat. From her limited experience with other vampires, she hadn’t been all that impressed.
"So what did they say?" Cat asked anxiously as her best friend and mate returned to the mansion.
The Council visit was a big deal. So big in fact that even the Shadow had made an appearance. It was the first time in fact that it had come to Cat without mentioning Shane and Molly getting back together. In fact, the Shadow had seemed rather exasperated by the whole ordeal.
"Nothing really," Molly said.
Cat knew her friend better than that. It was written in the slump of her shoulders, the downcast eyes. Something was eating at her.
"Look I get it if you don't want to go into specifics, but you are obviously not okay," Cat said.
"Catherine! The woman just met with the most powerful vampires in the region about if her life would be spared. Give her some time to process." Xander said pulling her into his arms.
"But…"
Xander kissed her cutting off Cat’s protest. It was a desperate kiss. Xander didn't do desperate. He was the calmest most put together man Cat had ever met. It was one of the things that infuriated her the most about him and also one of the things she loved the most.
"Ugh, get a room," Molly said.
Cat pulled away from Xander just in time to see the tail end of Molly's eye roll.
"So are you going to talk about it?"
"Cat," Xander warned.
"Stay out of it," Molly and Cat said in unison which made them both fall into a fit of laughter.
Xander threw up his hands and stormed out of the room exasperated. Cat shrugged and linked arms with her best friend. She'd smooth things over with her mate later. For now, she had things to discuss with Molly.
"So that's it? They didn't ask any questions about the club or your intentions?"
They were sitting in the movie theater eating popcorn and not watching Children of the Corn. Gretchen had joined them, but she was snoring away obviously worn out from a night working and the sexual gymnastics she and Claude were generally partaking in whenever she was home. Cat had walked in on them several times around the house and was constantly on Claude to keep their forays confined to their area of the mansion like she and Xander did. Cat still refused to eat at the kitchen counter after the last incident.
"They were more worried about my powers," Molly said staring into her bowl of popcorn.
"So did you show it to them? Were you able to," Cat asked.
"No and no. I mean, the Council pissed me off. It was right there under the surface, but nothing came to fruition. Honestly, it's for the better. I don't think I'd be standing here now if I had. Anyway, the Council itself wasn't that bad. It was the pureblood prick that bothered me the most," Molly said.
That got Cat's attention.
"Pureblood prick have a name?"
"Maximus. He had a fucking slave Cat! Like what century are we in? How is that even possible? Like I need the Council's approval to operate in polite vampire society but I sure as hell don't want anything to do with a system that condones slavery," Molly said.
"What the fuck! How did you keep your cool with a fucking slave in the room," Cat said outraged.
"I barely held it together. If I could have done something anything other than pretend like it didn't bother me I would have. Even the Shadow stepped in to help me keep my shit together. Apparently, it's only down with torture if it's her torturing me," Molly said.
Cat shook her head.
"So that's it then. They are fucking slave owning bastards who were only interested in your power." Cat said.
"Exactly," Molly said.
"Not exactly," The shadow said appearing out of nowhere as per her style.
Both Cat and Molly jumped at her sudden intrusion.
"Can you wear like a cat bell or something? You scare the shit out of me when you do that," Cat cursed.
"Yeah a cat bell would be nice," Molly cosigned before cringing as if the shadow was torturing her again.
"Stop it! Say what you came to say," Cat said impatiently.
Molly unclenched her body as the Shadow eased up and whirled on Cat.
"Don't speak to me as if I'm some unwanted nuisance! Without me you would all have been dead long ago. Especially the ungrateful one. I helped her stay tethered to the gray as long as I could hoping Shane could find the spell to bring her back before Maura was able to use it," The shadow snapped.
"So you know how I was brought back and you didn't think that was pertinent information for me to have," Molly said.
"Look thank you or whatever but forgive me. I am grateful for your help, but you aren't exactly nice about it. You pop up out of the blue to berate me or to torture my best friend. That doesn't exactly scream friendly neighborhood ghost if you know what I'm saying," Cat said.
"Fine, I will try not to berate you if you stop failing at the simple tasks I instruct you to do. Just be warned, the Council is not your friend. They must never know of Molly's power, especially not Maximus. He will seek to control her and her power. Molly has seen firsthand what he does to powerful witches. It is not a fate I would wish on my worst enemy," The shadow said.
"Hello! I'm right here. You could speak to me directly," Molly said.
"Are you and Shane together forever as of late?"
"No," Molly grumbled.
"Then I will only help those that are worthy of my guidance," The shadow replied.
Cat shot a perturbed look at her friend. The last thing she needed was for the Shadow to becom
e agitated once again.
"So the Council and Maximus are on our shit list. Got it. Anything else," Cat said.
"Maura is the priority. Remember that," The Shadow said before disappearing.
Gretchen stirred in her chair before stretching and yawning.
"What did I miss," She asked.
Cat and Molly exchanged glances and shook their heads.
"Just half the movie. You can go back to sleep. I'm going to need you to cover the bar again tonight," Molly said.
"If you want me well rested, don't tell Claude I'm down here if you run into him on your way out," She grumbled before curling back up to sleep.
Rehab
"Shane? Would you like to share with the group this week?"
Shane looked up from the riveting marble tiles at his feet and made eye contact with the woman across from him. Dr. Hartford, or Sharla as she liked to be called was looking at him expectantly. He gazed slowly around the circle. Two men in teak folding chairs with their heads hung low sat at either side of Dr. Hartford. Nothing was too good for the motley crew of addicts and mentally unstable in residence. In the week since he’d arrived, he’d never seen the men look up or even speak. To Shane’s left was the twitchy human who reminded Shane of his dealer back home. The man looked up and hissed revealing fake fangs. It was meant to be intimidating, the man was probably still pissed Shane had outed him for having contraband.
Shane might not have said anything if the man had offered to share. Maybe even if the price he demanded wasn’t so steep. A little molly would surely have helped him get through the last week even if it wasn’t his Molly of choice. The tweaky bastard had wanted him to convince Carrie to spend a night in the man’s bed. That was never going to happen. Shane was far past delivering beautiful young women to the unworthy. Shane flicked his gaze to the right and saw Carrie smiling encouragingly at him.
Carrie was a sweet girl. She'd easily befriended him the first week of rehab. As far as he could tell, she had absolutely no reason to be locked up here with the rest of the broken people he'd come across. Her confidence in him gave him the push he needed to finally open up. Shane opened the composition book he'd been given to write down his thoughts. The cardboard still stiff and new, barely a crease in the spine. Shane used to journal routinely in his youth, a habit that had been useful in his pursuit of science. Now, it felt odd to write things down. There was nothing about his life he honestly wanted to remember. Even the happy memories with Molly were tainted now. Shane ran his hands through his hair giving it a slight tug before letting his hand fall back to the crisp pages in his lap.
"I'll give it a try, I guess," He said.
Sharla smiled at him careful not to reveal her canines to the humans attending the night group session. The rehab facility was well known for helping out celebrities and the wealthy, so it had come as a surprise to Shane that they had an entire program to help vampires. Well, it was mostly humans who thought they were vampires but a few real ones like himself and Carrie were in attendance as well. It was weird for Shane to socialize with anyone other than his friends. Being one of Maura's Men had condemned him to live even further in the Shadows than being a vampire had. Still, here he was just the young turn of a wealthy vampire. One who was too precious and valuable to his sire to dispose of instead of shelling out however much it took to keep his cover here at the facility.
"Red is in everything I see. Red like her curls, like the freckles on her cheeks, the subtle hue of her lips tender from my kiss. Red like her blood staining the concrete, leaking from her body. Blue like the color of her eyes, the color of her body as it lay lifeless and cold, the pills I take to numb the ache. Black like the smoke curling from my pipe, the ashes I tap from the bowl, the void I am desperate to fill, the darkness that's swallowed me whole."
Shane stopped suddenly aware of just how much of his soul he'd just barred to these complete strangers. A few of the participants nodded their heads in queer solidarity. He was afraid to turn to his right and see the look on Carrie's face. They'd talked in depth about a multitude of things but never this. Never Molly, never the reason he'd welcomed addiction into his life like the soft blanket a child clings to in times of distress.
"Thank you, Shane. That was a good start," Sharla said before prompting for someone else to read from their journal.
At first, it seemed weird to Shane that these group sessions weren't so much a discussion as just people reading what they wrote or sharing what they drew. Now after having finally participated, he understood. Sharing with strangers without fear of judgment or reprisal was somewhat freeing. He felt a small bit of relief that he'd finally revealed a little of how he felt and hadn't been forced to apologize, explain, or analyze. He shook his head remembering how little he'd thought of his social studies colleagues at the university. Especially the psychology professors who'd tried to warn him about the possible damage his research could inflict on the participants. They'd proved right long ago, but now he truly understood their righteous anger.
He'd sinned long before Maura's influence. He'd put people's physical and mental health at risk, and for what? A little recognition? A pat on the back? To prove to his father that life as an academic was just as admirable as life in service to one's country? The thought of his father sent Shane reaching in his pocket to where he usually kept a joint or two. Old habits that needed to die if he were going to get out of this place anytime soon. The session was over. Shane had no idea what the others had said or any memory of being dismissed. His thoughts were now occupied with avoidance. He needed some fresh air to clear his mind.
Shane did his best to push the thought of his father from his mind, but that only seemed to make it worse. It had been a long time since Shane had thought of him, and now the old man flabby jowls shaking with rage as he puffed his ever-present cigar came to mind. That had been the night Shane had told his father was going to college instead of boot camp. His father had yelled and cursed, dashing the lovely dinner mom had made to the floor as he'd flipped the table to get to Shane faster. He'd grabbed Shane by the collar and lifted him from the air.
"You disrespectful, coward!" He'd cursed.
His vision of that night was so clear it was as if it were happening all over again, for real. Shane could feel his father's hand move from his shirt collar to his throat. The man's hands were so large that his forefinger and thumb connected at the nape of his neck. Thick fingers rough and calloused from years of toiling in the dirt and whatever else one did as an Infantryman, tightened and squeezed like a snake until his eyes bulged and his face turned red. Shane could hear the high pitch wails of his mother as she cried and screamed, begging his father to let him go. He remembered focusing on the portraits that lined the walls. His great-great grandfather, his great-grandfather, his grandfather, his father, and each of his three older brothers all in uniform during some point in their career, smiling like there was no other place they'd rather be. Darkness began to close in as his oxygen-starved brain began to drift away, slowly shutting down.
"Shane?"
Carrie's voice startled Shane from his hallucination. He gasped for air as reality began to register again. He was no longer in his parent's dining room about to die at the hands of his own father. He was sitting in the courtyard of the rehab facility. His journal laying open on the ground having fallen off his lap at some point and his hands were shaking and cold. He gripped them tight to try and stay the tremors and felt the moisture between his fingers. He'd never had sweaty palms before.
"It's okay. It's just withdrawal symptoms," Carrie kneeling in front of him.
"Shouldn't those have passed already?"
Carrie smiled softly and shook her head.
"Depends on how long you were abusing. As vampires, our metabolism may clear the drugs from our system quickly, but the mental effects are just as damaging as to any human," she said.
"So you're an addict as well?"
Since they had never talked about why they were in rehab, it
was interesting to finally see what cracks lie beneath her pristine surface. Carrie was a beautiful woman even by vampire standards. Of course, it was rare that an unattractive woman was ever turned. She was what people in his day would call a fox. Farrah Fawcett would be put to shame next to her blue eyes and cheerful grin. Shane hoped her addictions weren't because of an unwanted turning by a sadistic sire. Granted, since she was here, that wasn't a likely scenario. Shane was probably imprinting his own experience on her. Either way, unattached female vampires, while becoming more plentiful, were still quite rare. Even amongst the born vampires, the birth rates were 5 to 1 in favor of a male child. At least from what information Shane had been able to gather on his two short trips to the vampire archives.
That trip had been the only pleasurable experience he'd had under Maura's tutelage. She'd wanted to check the lineage of a specific vampire and of course hadn't been able to risk being seen there herself. The sheer volume of knowledge had been overwhelming. So many secrets, so much history both lost and unknown to that of humankind. It had been a small slice of heaven in the midst of his own personal hell. It had been that outing that had allowed Shane, Xander, and Claude to come up with their plan to defeat Maura. Those blissful moments where they were temporarily free from the deep thrall she typically held over them.
He shook his head. He was drifting off into the crevices of his psyche again instead of focusing on what was right in front of him. He could claim it was a side effect of his drug use but in reality, he'd always been that way. Countless teachers had scolded him for spending more time in his own head than in reality itself.
"No, I'm not a substance abuser. Unless you count coffee. It makes me feel more human to drink it," Carrie said blushing and tucking her chin in.
It was a cute gesture typical of a young child, not a woman of her age. She had to be in her twenties at least at turning. Perhaps it was not drugs but some other mental disorder that she needed help with. That didn't make sense either. She seemed perfectly able when she spoke with him earlier in the week. The more Shane got to know Carrie the bigger the mystery she became, and if Shane liked anything, it was solving a good mystery.
Shane's Redemption (Maura's Men Book 3) Page 6