“Oh trust me, when the time comes your help will be paramount to my success, of this I have no doubt.”
“Will anyone get hurt?” This was the most important question I had to ask before giving him anything. I would absolutely not hurt anyone to get what I wanted, no matter how much Draven meant to me!
“Not through your acceptance no, as for the rest… well, I am no Oracle but I will give you this…” He got slightly closer and said softly,
“The person it will mostly concern would never be hurt at my hands…never Keira.” He said the word ‘never’ with such sincerity that I would have been a fool not to trust his words. I had no idea what future he spoke of but I knew that the world I was living in was all about chance and this was one of life’s games that I wanted desperately to win. So, I made my decision in about five seconds from when he last spoke. I held out my hand for him to shake and said,
“I’m in! I, Catherine Keiran Williams, vow to back you when the time comes that you need it.” He gave me a knowing smile, placed his hand in mine and in turn gave me his own vow,
“And in return, I, Jared Cerberus, King of all immortal Hellhounds and guardian of the Underworld gates from the River Styx, do vow to help you any way I can to get you through those very gates.” He nodded his head to me respectfully and I found myself doing the same. Then we sealed the deal and shook on it.
“Right, well, considering we are on the subject of helping me bust in the joint, let’s talk tactics. How exactly are we gonna get me in...? ‘Cause you know I am not fond of the committing an horrendous crime and then topping myself plan.” I added this last part for good measure, although now thinking back, I probably should have made that clear before my vow. I mean, his way of helping might be to just point me in the right direction to some Hell worthy deed and then hand me the knife to finish myself off with! Would he at least draw me a map for when I get there…or maybe there was Hell’s version of a Holiday Rep to point me to the right bus.
“Now, I bet that’s a scary place to be.” He said laughing.
“What… where?” I asked shaking myself from my runaway thoughts.
“Inside that head of yours, if you could just see your adorable and very expressive face right now, you would know what I mean.” I shot him a ‘not impressed’ look that got me a deeper laugh. Well, glad I could entertain his big Royal Ass! I thought on a scowl.
“As fun as this is to witness, I think it’s time I put your over active imagination to rest. When I said Keira, that I needed a human heart to get you in, I wasn’t joking or being metaphorical.”
“But…” He lifted a hand to silence me and said,
“I think it’s time you heard my story, pet.” Now this was something to shut me up! I was practically gagging to hear this story that I unconsciously brought my other leg up to cross them on the couch. He smiled at my action and relaxed back.
“Now, where to begin?” He dragged a hand down half his face and caught his shapely beard between his thumb and fingers, pulling it down in what I gathered was a thinking habit.
“It was 1763 when I was brought into your world and I think you know by now what I was doing before this.” I nodded, too scared to say a word that would prolong my wait in hearing his story.
“My rebirth was instigated by a man call Sir Francis Dashwood. This fool was the founder of the Hellfire Club and held his ridiculous cult meeting in the Hellfire Caves of West Wycombe.” It became very clear with the venom he injected into his words, that he did not like the man he spoke of or this club, so to take his mind off his anger momentarily I said,
“West Wycombe…that’s not far from here.”
“You’re right, but forgive me, where are my manners?” He said getting up as if needing some sort of distraction.
“Drink?”
“Please.” Considering the story I had coming to me, I thought a drink was a bloody good idea! He walked over to one of the wooden panels and pressed against it. The whole panel then slid down into the floor and a stainless steel bar emerged behind it.
“Cool.” I said in such a geeky way, even I winced after saying it. I think if I could have gotten away with slapping my hand to my forehead and saying ‘Durr’ I would have done, just to make myself feel better. However, he turned his head to me and gave me knowing grin that said he was clearly entertained by my goofy behaviour.
He then shifted his immense shoulders and shrugged out of his worn leather jacket that was fitted biker style. I bit my lip at the sight of his bulging biceps under the long sleeves of his black t-shirt. He threw his jacket over the back of a dainty embroidered chair and the contrast was almost funny. He pulled his sleeves up his forearms and I got sight of some kickass tribal tattoos on one arm. The other wrist was covered in leather bands with what looked like crude hammered metal attached. I watched him turn his back to me and thought everything about him screamed bad ass! It wasn’t just his black leather waistcoat that sat snugly to every sleek line of his muscular back, his worn biker boots half tied up his ankle or his heavy silver rings of flames and claws. It also wasn’t his ripped jeans or tied back hair. It was just him. The way he moved like he owned everything in his world and didn’t give a shit what the rest of that world thought, as long as they played by his rules.
He confirmed this when he didn’t ask me what I wanted but I was thankful to see him grab a chilled bottle of white wine. He also brought a bottle of red under his arm and two black stemmed glasses. After putting the two glasses down he lifted both bottles to me and I nodded to the white. We were both silent as he poured the drinks. He handed me mine and then settled back with his red. He swirled it round as if trying to pluck the rest of his story from his memory bank and I couldn’t help but think that this action looked totally out of character. I mean, here I was describing another big scary biker dude (In a completely different way to Sigurd) and he was drinking the wine like a connoisseur!
“So, where was I?”
“You were about to tell me about the Hellfire club, Sir Francis Dashwood, how they brought you here, The caves, the need for a human heart and how you plan on getting me into Hell without…” I made a slitting my throat action and he threw his head back to release a throaty roar of laughter, then said,
“I think we’ll have to order take out, as something tells me this is gonna take a while.” I had to agree and also suddenly had the biggest craving for some crispy noodles with seafood.
Now, all I had to do was hope they delivered to a King Hell Beast’s Devil’s Ring!
I didn’t think after hearing and seeing all that I had in one single night I would have been able to sleep, but damn, I must have been out like someone with narcolepsy! I knew this because after Jared had finished his story he excused himself to speak with Sigurd and the next thing I felt was being lifted into a pair of arms. I remember looking up into a hidden face and knew Sigurd was back to taking care of me. I couldn’t help the deep sense of safety I felt being held close and therefore gripped onto his t–shirt tight, snuggled closer and rested a cheek on his chest before passing out again.
I woke when the light of day started to penetrate my hotel room. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stopped mid yawn when I noticed the dark figure of a man asleep in a chair. Sigurd had stayed in my room with me and I felt a lump form in my throat. Just the sight of him with his arms folded, hood pulled over his eyes and his legs out-stretched in a lounged position, I felt my chest compress. I knew why he had done this and the answer was in the look of relief he gave me when I woke from my nightmare in Jared’s office. There were other rooms in the suite but instead, he spent the night in a chair close to my bed because he was worried about me!
This made me feel like crying. Here I was, on this ridiculous quest to save the man I loved and the family I thought loved me, which I built around that man, were nowhere to be seen. No, only one man stood by my side now and I knew already without him, I would have been kidnapped, possibly even dead twice. I didn’t care that I was
some mission for him. That I was some contract given to him by whom I had no clue. All these things meant nothing to me because looking at that man sleeping in the chair by my bedside, so that I wouldn’t have a bad dream, was not only doing this for honour and duty. He really cared. And that, right there, was why I got up, grabbed the comforter on the end of the bed and lay it over him. I then leant down, kissed his cheek and whispered,
“Thank you, my Shadow Knight.” And then I left to shower in one of the other bathrooms so as not to wake him.
Once in the shower I thought back to Jared’s incredible story. My love for history wasn’t lost on him considering I bombarded him with questions. What surprised me was how patient he was with me but what surprised me the most was how brutally painful his story was and how deeply it touched me.
In 1763, the human, Jared Weller, was a blacksmith in West Wycombe. He was a quiet but hard working man and lived alone. He made it sound as if he was a recluse and didn’t like being around people much. The reasons for this he didn’t explain, but I could tell there was something more to this due to his tensed jaw, hard eyes and the flash of pain I saw in their depths. However, I didn’t think it wise to push this as we were far from bosom buddy status.
Anyway back in 1763 rumours of Sir Francis Dashwood’s after dark exploits weren’t completely unheard of, but not exactly widespread knowledge either. Therefore, when Jared Weller was approached about a job by Dashwood’s steward, Paul Whitehead, he simply agreed. Of course, he had no idea of the real reason he was picked for the ‘job’ and that was because he was the best candidate for what the Hellfire Club had in mind. This was for two reasons. The first being that he was a known recluse and therefore nothing was much done for a man who went missing, who had no family connections or even friends to care. But it was the second that was the most interesting and also… frightening.
It was discovered upon looking for the right person for their ‘job’ that the meaning of the name Jared is "he who descended" in Hebrew history. This, to them, meant no-one else even came close to aiding them in their attempt to not only enter the Underworld but to steal a piece of it. As for this, they needed a human sacrifice and poor blacksmith Jared was to be the one.
Of course, the story didn’t end with Jared’s life. No, something they didn’t count on was that Jared was the only living host who was both strong enough and royally connected, to contain a rather important being. Although, admittedly he had no clue to his supernatural bloodline at the time and this was the reason he simply didn’t just die when they cut out his heart. See, not only did Jared mean “he who descended” but it also meant something much more.
In the Book of Enoch it is explained that Jared also meant "he who shall rule" because of his family connections that, unsurprisingly, were not of this world. This made him the perfect host in which to merge with the Hellbeast that the club mistakenly released in their moronic attempt to gain entry to Hell. Just to mention at this point, I was not including myself in this stupidity as I actually had good, solid, valid reasons for my quest, not because I was some jumped up, spoilt rich man that didn’t know what else to do with his money and wanted to impress his friends!
No, guessing that I didn’t exactly like the sound of this Dashwood guy after Jared’s story and I didn’t try to hide the fact. This I could tell when Jared’s molten eyes turned soft, that he liked my bitch rant that erupted upon hearing what was done to him. Anyway, as the story continued I found I was glad these actions at least bought about the end to the stupid club!
This didn’t surprise me as, until this point, it was just about a load of rich guys playing dress up and convincing themselves they had dark powers by worshiping Hades (who Jared told me was known better as the Devil or Lucifer). What they didn’t know was that the Devil couldn’t have given two donkey shits about what these guys thought (Jared’s actual words) but he was then not too pleased when they stole his Alpha guard dog Cerberus. This part was a complete accident, as they didn’t realise fully that the man Paul Whitehead chose, was the only one who would automatically absorb Cerberus, acting as his host. Therefore Jared and Cerberus merged into man and Beast combined.
I couldn’t help but ask the question, why he couldn’t just go home? The answer came as this,
“Once bound to a host, you need one of royal blood to send you back and considering I was royal blood, there was no going back.” This made some sense until he started to explain about why he needed a heart to get me back in through ‘his’ gate.
After Jared Cerberus had been reborn, his first job was to close the gate and in the same way it had been opened, he needed a heart to bind to it to keep it locked. It didn’t take him a second before he knew exactly which heart to choose…one belonging to Paul Whitehead. I had gasped a bit at the thought of him ripping the steward’s heart out, which made him laugh before explaining further.
“I didn’t kill him Keira, although when I first woke, I will admit it was an appealing thought.” I released the breath I had been holding and he smiled. Then he explained how he bound Whitehead’s heart (whilst it was still beating) and the Hellfire Club was no more. I think after royally fucking up their first ritual they had learnt their lesson (Again Jared’s words, not mine).
But that still wasn’t the end of it. It was decided, or more like demanded on Jared’s part, that when Paul Whitehead died, which he did in 1774, that his heart then belonged to Jared. It was then placed in an urn at the Mausoleum that was situated on top of the hill where the caves were chiselled a quarter of a mile into. For reasons Jared didn’t explain, all parties involved thought it best to keep the heart close to the caves and this worked well enough for years until in 1829, the heart was stolen by an Australian sailor.
This, believed by Jared, was down to a man named Admiral Sir James Stirling who was captain of the HMS Success at the time. He was in London at the end of 1828 with the Foreign Office trying to gain support for a settlement in the vicinity of the Swan River, Australia. He then departed right after receiving the heart from one of his lackeys on the 6 February 1829.
I naturally asked the question why…as in, a lot! But this was something he admitted he didn’t have all the answers to. He did know, however, that all people involved were under the influence of his kind. The worst news came after this story was finished and that was that even to this day he still didn’t know where the heart of Paul Whitehead remained. This was going to be a big problem for me, considering I needed that bloody heart!
He explained, after another rant of mine that consisted mostly of my lack of luck in life, that without the heart there was no way he could open the gate. This sucked the big one, which brought me back to now and why I was washing my hair like a woman possessed.
So there you have it, why man and beast became one and how the first werewolf was born…or kind of anyway, as I still wasn’t sure what beast Jared turned into! I did know, however, I was totally screwed! We made a deal that he would help me, but what the ruggedly handsome bastard missed out when we were taking our vows, was that he couldn’t actually help me, not unless I was the one who magically found the heart.
Which was when I came to the conclusion, after I had finished punishing my abused scalp, that it was in fact exactly what I had to do. I just hoped that a trip to Australia wasn’t on the cards, as it was a Hell of a long way to go and not really what I had in mind when planning my trip down under…although I’m sure it could be hot as Hell all the same!
I got out of the shower, dried, dressed and was rubbing a towel in my hair when I walked into the suite’s sitting room. Jared was now up and looked like he too had showered. I was surprised to see him without his jacket and his sandy hair now wet and slightly darker waves curling back from his hands. He looked so beautiful with the sun from the window lighting up his perfect features. Those high cheek bones, those ochre coloured eyes that matched the tawny stubble that dusted his jaw. I saw the darker ring of his Ouroboros pulse when his gaze turned to me. He gave m
e a head jerk and said,
“You alright, øjesten?” I gave him a small smile and walked to him. I don’t know why but I gave his hair a little ruffle and said,
“I am, but you must be ready to consume a whole cow by now, it’s at least noon.” I joked making him release one of those, ‘I’m not really angry but still a badass’ growl at me that I laughed at.
“Don’t worry big guy, I’ll call room service.” I looked back and smirked when I saw he was trying not to smile but when the edge of his lip curled up, both of us knew he was on a losing battle. I flopped down on the yellow couch and picked up the hotel menu. Then my eyes went sideways to note he was still watching me and I decided I wasn’t satisfied with just a hidden smile, so I said,
“So, should I just order you a steak in every cut they do, or do you just eat it raw from the bone…? You look like a bloody steak kinda guy.” The look I got made me laugh out loud and then I was fully satisfied when I saw him crack and start laughing along with me. And just like that, all the tension from the previous night was lost and added to the frightening past vault in my head. Worryingly it was getting quite full in there and I was only 23…oops no, now 24!
“Gimme that, you cocky little shit.” He said, trying to go for stern only failing, this by the crinkles around his eyes giving away his enjoyment my banter brought him.
“Hey! Enough of the little shit, big guy or I can easily find you a new nickname, one less flattering to your physique.” I said after throwing the menu at him on the ‘Hey’ part of that.
I ordered room service and while we were waiting I explained all that Jared had told me to Sigurd. I felt bad doing this but knew I had no choice than to share ‘cause I was seriously at a loss on what to do next. Sigurd didn’t look at all surprised at my story and I put this down to being his age, he must have heard something about the King of the Hell Beasts. I mean, for a big player in his world like Sigurd I doubted when someone like Alpha Cerberus goes missing, it is simply swept under the Demonic carpet.
The Quarter Moon (Afterlife saga) Page 38