Call of Blood: A Novel of The Unnatural Brethren

by Silvana G Sánchez

  “Come on, Phillip…” Alisa whispered in his ear, raising him by the shoulders. “It’s all over now.”

  But it wasn’t over—not yet.

  Eirik sat on the Red Throne. His lips stretched in a victorious smile. He smoothed his hands over the throne’s velvet arms, savoring his victory.

  “Where’s Marianne?” Ivan demanded to the vampire horde.

  Her name stirred a breath of life into his soul once more, but he couldn’t shake off Jiao Long’s last words: Others will come. This is only the beginning.

  “Let them come, child.” Eirik tapped into his mind once more. “I long for a confrontation worth my time.”

  Phillip turned to The Skull Splitter and nodded.

  “I said…” Ivan insisted, “where’s Marianne?”

  The Coven vampires remained silent, waiting for their King’s approval. But Eirik Bjorn was too lost in his memories of battle, images of bloody combat under heavy rainstorms poured from him into Phillip’s mind—whether The Skull Splitter did this intentionally, he did not know.

  At last, Eirik raised a few fingers off the throne’s arm and gave the Coven a quick nod.

  “The dungeon,” the young vampire said. He must have been made in his teenaged years.

  The news brought Eirik some discontent—the muscles in his neck stiffened, and his fingernails sank on the throne’s velvet lining. “Bring her to me,” he said in a low voice, barely audible.

  His bidding was done quickly. Within minutes, the teenaged vampire returned carrying Marianne in his arms. He laid her on the dais and stepped back with a reverence.

  Eirik Bjorn sprung off the Red Throne—Phillip could have sworn Eirik was about to run to Marianne’s side when he knelt beside her. Antoine joined him.

  “I’m here, sweetheart,” Phillip whispered in her ear. “You’re going to be fine. We’re getting out of here right now.”

  “You bastards!” Antoine said, turning to the assembly. “What have you done? Just look at her!”

  Recent bruises marked Marianne’s skin, not to mention the several bite marks on her arms and legs. The paleness of her skin alarmed Phillip the most. Those wretched fiends had bled her dry—no wonder she was unconscious!

  “Which one of you did this?” Eirik asked with such serenity that it chilled the blood in Phillip’s veins. Such calm could only announce the worst of storms. “Was it you, Alvar?” turning to the teenaged vampire.

  “N—no, Your Majesty! It wasn’t my doing!” he said with a quivering voice. “It was Liam’s.”

  “And where is this… Liam?” Bjorn asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

  “He’s gone, Your Majesty—off the radar.”

  The Skull Splitter’s gaze drifted away from Alvar and landed on Marianne. “For now...” he said. “Liam’s crime shall not go unpunished.”

  But Phillip cared little for The Skull Splitter’s assurances. He gently laid Marianne in his arms and carried her off the dais, taking one hard look at the assembly before joining his family.

  “Come on, Phillip…” Ivan pressed his arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Phillip held his tongue, but his mind knitted thoughts of vengeance.

  “Will she be all right, Ivan?” Antoine asked the minute they stepped out of The Devil’s Coven. But Ivan gave no answer.

  These were perilous grounds, and no matter how complacent to their demands, the Coven’s hatred towards Phillip’s family remained as ruthless and unforgiving as it had ever been. Tonight’s Assembly had been nothing more than an act, inspired by the blood drinkers’ fear for their miserable lives.

  As they crossed the street, Phillip sensed a keen stare cast over them. Behind the nightclub’s window stood Alvar—the teenaged vampire. What the hell does he want with us? Phillip neither knew nor cared anymore. An overwhelming desolation took over his heart, making it impossible for him to detain upon such frivolous matters.

  Antoine got in the car’s backseat, Marianne’s head rested on his lap. “Don’t worry, Phillip,” he said. “I’ve got her.”

  A few feet away from them, Alisa and Ivan were locked in a private conversation, Phillip had no mind to pay attention to anything they said, but he noticed Alisa’s delicate gestures, like holding Ivan’s hand and looking straight into his eyes as they spoke—as if the rest of the world mattered very little.

  He’d shared that kind of intimacy with Marianne. He longed for those moments to return…

  Phillip pursed his lips. He couldn’t wait to get out of these damned Coven grounds, but he suddenly found himself staring into the parking lot, where amidst the rising fog, a figure emerged. Strolling with his hands in his jeans pockets, the man approached them. As the fog cleared, Phillip realized this was no man, but The Skull Splitter himself.

  “How is she, Ivan?” he asked rather anxiously.

  Ivan shook his head. “It doesn’t look good.” His words froze Phillip’s heart. Losing her was not an option.

  “You can make sure she recovers—if needed.” It was the strangest thing, Eirik made it sound like a suggestion when in fact it could have been a direct order, a plea even. “She’ll get through this… She’s stronger than she seems.”

  “I’m afraid your help will raise much turmoil amongst the Coven’s brethren,” Ivan said. Phillip couldn’t give a damn of how the Coven felt.

  Eirik inhaled sharply. “I would destroy them all if left with no other choice.” He shrugged. “Take care of her, Ivan—I’ll take care of them.”

  Phillip still found it hard to believe. Betrayed by our own brethren… Our world doesn’t feel safe anymore. Everything he’d once believed in had been a lie.

  “Do not be disheartened, child,” Eirik said. “There’s hope for our Kin yet.”

  Phillip couldn’t help but smirk. He would have laughed, in spite of his present frame of mind, but out of respect for The Skull Splitter, he’d refrained from it.

  “If there is hope for our Kin, then I do not see it…” he said.

  She resembled Canova’s Sleeping Nymph, lying on the black tufted sofa. Her delicate hands clasped beneath her chin, but unlike the artist’s magistral work, Marianne’s eyes were open—though their empty stare mimicked the qualities of chiseled marble.

  Phillip knelt beside her, his heart shattering. “Don’t do this to yourself, Marianne,” he whispered. “Don’t shun the world and lock your mind away.”

  Marianne’s tearful eyes fixed on him. She did not speak a word. Ever since reaching a full recovery, Marianne grieved night and day. She grieved his mortal companion’s death, she grieved losing control when her body became instrument of torture to the Coven fiends, and she grieved losing the woman that she was before this ever happened.

  Phillip pursed his lips, holding back his own tears. “Try to get some sleep, sweetheart,” he said, cupping the side of her face.

  No answer came. Her gaze became vacant once more as she looked away.

  “I’ll be outside if you need me,” he said. He then pressed his lips against her forehead and got on his feet.

  As he stepped out of the room, Phillip had to ask himself if Marianne still needed him—if only a little. He wished she did.

  He walked into the living room and leaned against the sliding crystal doors, searching his shirt’s pocket for the pack of cigarettes. A light rain poured, which freshened the wind and soothed his anxiety. He took a deep drag off the cigarette, relaxing even more as he exhaled the poisonous vapors into the cool evening air.

  “How is she doing?” Ivan stood behind him.

  “You tell me,” Phillip said without looking back. “You’re the one with the superpowers.”

  His maker gave him a mirthless laugh in reply.

  “She hasn’t said a word since it happened,” Phillip added. “Yes, she hunts and feeds. She comes and goes from this lair—but always in silence.” He paused. “If there was a way to know what burdens her mind…”

  “What?” Ivan flinched, surprised at Phillip�
�s implied suggestion. “Have I suddenly turned into a vampire spy simply because of my newest abilities?” furrowing his brow. “Oh, I see how it is… Very well. Exactly what do you want to know?”

  “Her thoughts,” Phillip said, wasting no time with feigned apologies. “What have you seen in them?”

  “I’ve seen nothing,” Ivan dismissed.

  “Please don’t lie to me.”

  “It’s the truth!” Ivan blurted out. “Too many images flood her mind, I can barely thread them to make sense.”

  Tilting his head, Phillip read his maker’s expression. He knew him enough to see the uneasiness behind his stoic demeanor. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Ivan bit his lower lip. “No good can come out of this,” he mused.

  “That’s for me to decide.” Phillip urged him to speak, crooking his fingers at him.

  “If you must know,” heaving a heavy sigh, “it’s the same image, over and over again—Marianne being tortured by Liam… There’s no more to tell.”

  “Liam, that cowardly fiend!” Nothing hurt him more than knowing the bastard out of his reach—there was absolutely no trace or sign of his whereabouts.

  “Forget about him. He’s gone.” Ivan said, pressing his shoulder. “But she’s here, and we must help her get back on her feet. We’re her only shot at recovery.”

  “Recovery?” Phillip raised his brow. He didn’t mean to be cynical—Ivan did a better job at it than him—but how could anyone overcome what she had suffered? Ever since that wretched evening, darkness had embraced her tight. Phillip feared that the pain mirrored in her eyes would never go away.

  “She will never be the same,” he whispered, putting out the cigarette.

  Ivan

  Streaks of blood red tinged the darkened sky. Bright purple cotton clouds spread on the horizon where the sea met the setting sun. The constant squawk of seagulls merged with the roaring waves crashing behind them in a soothing cycle.

  Strolling on their way back from the beach, Ivan held her hand, smooth and warm. The minute they reached the pavement, he stopped.

  “You’re not coming with me—are you sure?” Alisa raised her brow, a glimmer of hope sparkling in her blue eyes.

  Ivan kissed the back of her hand, and holding it still, he pressed it against his chest. “No thought fills my heart with greater joy than that of sharing another lifetime with you…” His gaze drifted to the ocean.

  “However…” she mused, knowing that a reason not to join her would follow.

  “However…” he sighed. “I’m afraid I’m not ready to say goodbye to this lifetime—not yet.”

  The corner of her lips curled in a forgiving smile. “Our time will come… I can wait.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ivan said.

  They crossed the street and stopped before the station.

  “That’s my ride.” Alisa shrugged with an endearing smile, clasping her hands with such sweetness that it made her lovelier still.

  “The train?” Ivan knitted his brow. Strange that an immortal would choose public transportation. “You could always fly…” he suggested.

  Alisa wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I’ve never been fond of flying…” She paused. “And, this seems like the proper way to say goodbye.”

  Ivan failed to suppress a snicker. “Hopelessly romantic—as always.” He smoothed his hand beneath her cheek. “Where will you go?”

  Alisa gave him a knowing look. “You could find me without asking, what with your new vampiric abilities…” she teased.

  “I would never—”

  “I keep a small lair in Kerala,” she said, amused by Ivan’s reaction to her game. “It’s my retreat from the world, if you will… You’re welcome to visit anytime.”

  “I’ve always wanted to visit India,” he replied. “Perhaps, later on, I will.”

  She pursed her lips, and in her eyes shone the imminent gleam of longing. “I’ll miss you dearly, Ivan…” she said.

  Ivan slipped his hand into his jacket’s pocket. He then placed the black velvet purse in Alisa’s hand. “I believe this belongs to you.”

  Opening the bag, Alisa poured its contents in her hand. And there, she stood, her stare fixed on the pearl necklace—its sapphire brooch shining brightly as if it were brand new.

  “Is love too young to know what conscience is?” she asked.

  Ivan hinted a smile. “Our love will always be young.” Holding her hands, he leaned closer until his lips met hers in the sweetest farewell kiss.

  Cassandra

  “Ready, Cassie?” Mom asked. The old Nikon camera swung around her neck. She was determined to make of this birthday party a complete success—in spite of the last minute change of venue.

  Cassandra wasn’t pleased at all as she pulled in the driveway.

  “You mean,” she began, “am I ready to celebrate my birthday in my stepmother’s house—who by the way, cursed me two weeks ago?” Cassie stepped out of the car.

  “I’m sorry it had to be this way, ma petite… but your father insisted… And, it’s your father’s house too.” Mom pursed her lips. With a kick of her heel, she closed the car’s door, her arms full with a large cardboard box containing dozens of presents, a fistful of strings tied to multicolored balloons, and almost every trinket she’d thought would make a pleasant memory out of this infernal day.

  “Of course Dad insisted, Mom! He knows nothing of the curse—or the fact that he’s married to a nasty evil witch!” Cassandra muttered, opening the gate. “We have to warn him!”

  “Not today, Cassie,” Mom said. “Today, I want you to enjoy an unforgettable birthday celebration. Your sisters are already here… C’est magnifique, n’est-ce pas?” raising her brow. “Nothing will spoil this day.”

  “But, Mom—” Cassandra stood at the front porch.

  “Nothing will spoil it.” Mom grinned. “Remember what I told you, Cassie. Mona will think you’re still suffering amnesia from the curse.”

  “We’re really going to pretend that nothing happened…” Cassie mused as she rang the doorbell.

  “Just for today, my precious bonbon—it’s your birthday. We can hex her tomorrow if you’re still up for it. I promise.” Mom winked.

  “Party today, hex tomorrow, huh?” Cassandra said, raising her brow. “You’re quite a devil, Denise…”

  Mom smiled. “I am infinitely better, my child,” she replied. “I’m a Deveraux.”

  Cassandra stood at the foyer, unnerved by the gigantic portrait hanging above the chimney—that hideous wedding picture. Something felt wrong about it, and it wasn’t the photoshopped beach backdrop. Whatever it was, she would figure it out.

  “Cassie! Cassie!” Little Josie ran downstairs and straight into her arms. “She’s here!” she screamed, her voice echoed in the hall.

  “Mom!” Mathilde rushed downstairs and quickly wrapped her arms around Denise, who seemed surprised by her sudden impulse.

  “Aren’t you going to hug your sister, Mathilde?” Mom said with a knowing look.

  Tilly scowled.

  “That’s all right.” Cassandra shrugged. “You don’t have to if you don’t feel like it.”

  “It’s not that…” Mathilde mused.

  “Tilly’s angry because you left us,” Josie chanted with the slushy voice that comes from missing a tooth—so adorable.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Cassie said. “I love your rainbow hair,” stroking it with fondness. “I’ve missed you, Tilly.”

  Mathilde’s ruddy cheeks burned, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I’ve missed you so much!” she said, hugging her tightly.

  “Is that the birthday girl I hear?” André stepped out of the kitchen. A huge gift box in his arms blocked his face from view. However did he manage to move towards them without falling?

  “Dad? I can barely see you!” Cassie said.

  André left the box over the coffee table. “How about now?” he said, holding Cassie in a warm embrace.
“Happy birthday, baby! Look who’s coming with the cake!”

  Mona Mai.

  Wearing a tight-fitted short black dress and pointy high heels, with an impeccable salon hairdo and ravishing makeup, Mona entered the room carrying a three tier white cake decorated with pink sugar roses. Mona was in mourning. She wore black daily since the loss of that evil spawned grandfather of hers—Jiao Long.

  “Happy birthday, Cassandra…” she said with a sullen voice, leaving the cake over the coffee table. She stabbed candles into the white fondant frosting twenty-one times. “Twenty-one… You’re a grown woman.” She feigned a smile.

  Cassandra clenched her fists and marched towards Mona. I’m a grown witch, and I’ll make you pay for what you did, she wanted to say, but Mom held her hand and gently pulled her back.

  “Sit by the cake so I can take a picture, please,” Mom said, ushering her away from Mona. “Ah! And don’t forget to make a wish, Cassie! This is a very special birthday!”

  Cassie moved to the sofa and sat before the splendid cake. Heaving a heavy sigh, she leaned forward, closed her eyes, and made her wish.

  I wish Mona Mai disappeared from our lives. I wish Mom and Dad got together again, and that we could be a family as before…

  Too many wishes, maybe. Cassandra opened her eyes and stared into the camera lens with a weary look. Mom took the picture, she could blow the candles now. Cassie inhaled deep because blowing out twenty-one candles… Wait a moment. The house lights flickered for a few seconds. Then they stopped fluttering altogether. A sharp electrical buzz sounded in the entire house. Every lightbulb shone an incandescent amber gleam and then snapped into darkness. If not for the candles’ swirling flames, the house would have been swallowed by pitch-darkness.

  “I’ll check the fuse box,” Dad said.