by J. Armand
“I took up boxing when the beatings started,” Owen added. “I was eight. It made me feel strong, but then it just gave the old man an excuse when he left marks. Carter reached out to me when I earned a full scholarship for rugby and made the newspaper. I was making decent money from legitimate fights when he approached and asked if I wanted a match that would leave me set for life.
“He took me to a cage they had set up for matches underground. The other guy didn’t look like much, but halfway through our fight he changed into a bloody werewolf. Carter throws a silver knife into the ring and says ‘Slit the beast’s throat. Let out your anger so you can become a new man’.”
“Do you ever see your mom?” I asked.
“Lost her four years ago to lung cancer. She was a big smoker. It was the only way she could deal with that lush.”
“What happened to him?”
“He met a truly unfortunate end in a private cage match. Let’s just say no one threw him a knife.”
The Brotherhood was as full of surprises as the supernatural world. I’d thought my high-school image of Owen was ruined after I saw the delinquent he was in person. But he had fought for his place in the world since he was a child. His self-destructive habits weren’t an indulgence, but a coping mechanism.
“What about you? Don’t you have family, Dorian?” Micah asked. The speed at which we were tearing down the open road made me nervous. Even I wouldn’t be able to walk away if we crashed.
“No…” Guilt was weighing heavily on my mind. Everything I wanted was before me and yet I couldn’t manage to tell them what I really was. The Blackbournes were my age, living in and understanding the supernatural world. They had taken me in and opened up to me, but I couldn’t return the same courtesy. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and my skin bristle with anxiety whenever I got close to opening up. “My parents passed away a few years ago.”
“Sorry, mate,” Micah apologized. “Mine threw me out. I fell into the Brotherhood the year after Owen.”
“And you cried every bloody night for a week. I had to sleep in the room next to this crybaby.” Micah punched Owen in the arm to shut him up.
“I had just survived an attack in the woods while on a camping trip with my junior hunting club.”
“He ran like a big girl’s blouse at the first sight of a werewolf,” Owen laughed. “I was trapped in a cage with one and fought it to the death.”
“Sod off!” Micah yelled at him. “My bloke Nicholas had just been torn to shreds in front of my eyes. We weren’t supposed to go out as far as we did, but we wanted some alone time. Nobody believed me when I told them what I saw. They said it was just a wolf. My family was the stuffy ‘old money’ type. It wasn’t ‘proper’ when I was in the papers talking about monsters in the woods. They thought I was making a mockery of our good name.
“Nicholas’ family was threatening to sue. They thought I had coerced him and was responsible for his death. It broke my heart. When I told my parents why I had snuck out into the woods with Nicholas they wanted me sent away. It was like I had some disease that they hoped I would recover from if they kept me away long enough.”
“If you pray to God for the strength to resist those urges you can stop them from happening again. I wish you would see that by now,” William cut in.
“What about you, Willy?” Micah asked. “Tell Dorian how you came to us.”
“We’re almost here,” Owen said, citing the GPS in an attempt to diffuse the situation.
“That’s okay, I can pull over,” Micah said with malice in his voice. He glared at William in the mirror. “I want to hear the story again, it’s been a while.”
“Here we go.” Owen sighed and lit a cigarette.
“I repented for my sins,” William answered and left it at that.
“What sins?” I asked quietly.
“They are between me and God. He has forgiven me.” William evaded the question again.
“Really, Willy?” Micah’s voice was full of venom. “Is that why your fiancée is chained up so you can ‘bleed out the evil’ by cutting her? Didn’t God forgive her for getting knocked up at sixteen at Bible camp?”
“WHAT?” I couldn’t hold in my disbelief and disgust.
“Micah, stop,” Owen murmured.
“Why? We’re all sharing right?” Micah continued to press the issue. “Why don’t you tell Dorian about Emily, William? Why don’t you tell him why we’re going all the way out here for a bloody neckbiter? How she’s one of them now, how you think that you can change her back by doing God’s work? I’ve got news for you, Willy: He isn’t listening!”
“I feel sorry for you,” William whispered. “I’ll still pray for you.”
“Save your breath.” Micah started to calm down. “Prayers and threats of divine wrath won’t change who I am and who I’m perfectly happy being.”
“We’re here,” Owen announced, sounding relieved to put that conversation to rest. Outside my window a three-story Elizabethan mansion stood solitary against the night sky. Lights were on in nearly every window, casting a glow onto the clearing surrounding the house. Owen and William leapt from the car before it made a full stop.
“Are we going to walk right up?” I asked Micah as we got out.
“No point in trying to be sneaky about it. They can sense us approaching either way. Probably already have the welcoming party prepared. As soon as we’re at their door, they’ll be at our throats, so stay alert.”
“So is William married or engaged? You called her his fiancée back there,” I asked Micah when the other two were far ahead.
“Engaged. He refers to her as his wife, but no Catholic church would marry a pregnant teenage runaway. It gets to him when he’s reminded about that.” Though I could only see his eyes, I could sense his remorse. “He’s not a bad guy, just very… narrow.”
“He doesn’t think you’re bad either. He told me so. It sounds like he wants the best for everybody, even if he’s not sure what that is.”
“I should apologize for putting you in the middle of that. Bloody hypocrite gets under my skin, you know? I don’t care if you’re a sinner or a saint, but don’t look down on me when you’re sitting there too.”
The four of us stood on the stone steps of the palatial residence. We paused uneasily for a moment, waiting for an ambush or a full frontal assault to pour from the entrance. People moved about inside the towering windowed walls. The building was certainly occupied.
William reached for the handle of the walnut doors.
“Wait.” I stopped him. “I’ll take point.”
“I was kidding,” Owen whispered. “You have no armor. Just stay alive and keep your neck covered.”
“I’m not scared,” I reasserted. “Besides, I’m the least threatening and we agreed to leave if they weren’t evil.” I also wouldn’t die if we walked into a trap.
Chapter Eight
A woman’s scream greeted us as soon as we stepped inside, followed by two more. Three women dressed in nineteenth-century housemaid’s clothes dropped the piles of fresh linens they were carrying and ran at the sight of us.
“What the bloody hell is this?” Owen walked in next to me. William entered next. He grabbed a startled butler, who had come over to see what the disruption was, and took out his amulet.
“William, don’t!” I shouted. A bright light shone from the milky-white gem but had no effect on the butler. The man tried to pull away, but William overpowered him and took off his own glove.
“He’s human,” William announced after checking the butler’s pulse and letting him go.
“No kidding, Willy,” Micah groaned as William flashed his amulet at fleeing servants to no avail. “You know the biters keep pets.”
“We’re here to save you,” William told the panicked residents. “You’re free now.”
“Save us?” a woman asked, nervously creeping closer to pick up the laundry the others had left. William took her by the arm, trying t
o pull her away. “Let go of me! Someone get Master Belanger!”
“I am already here, my dear. There is no need to worry.” Across the marble floor and up a grand staircase stood what could be none other than the lord of the manor, dressed in his Victorian finest. He was tall, maybe six feet, and stood with remarkable posture and authority. “Our guests mean us no harm.”
“Please.” He looked at William’s hand where it rested on his servant. William released her. She scurried away. William stared at Master Belanger with daggers in his eyes.
“The door please. We don’t want to get a chill, now do we?” The lord’s gaze was on me now. I felt compelled to grant his request. The honey color of his eyes was anything but sweet. They pierced me like a frigid wind, far worse than any chill from outside.
“Be judged, monster!” William ran up the stairs holding out the amulet.
“William! No!” I tried to stop him, but was too late. The blinding flash burst forth.
“Well, that was quite rude.” The lord straightened his tailcoat and cravat. He was completely unhurt. He had the sharpened incisors and accentuated pallor that marked him as undeniably one of the undead. But the amulet had no effect on him.
“Impossible! It must be some sort of dark magic interfering with the amulet. It’s never failed me before.” William tried again.
“I would ask you not do that. It is rather annoying.” The lord took the amulet from William’s hand and placed it back in his pocket for him. “There we are. Now what is all this about evil and monsters and dark magic?”
“We are so sorry, Master Belanger.” I apologized and pulled William away. “He thought you might be evil and um… holding these people against their will.”
“Please, call me Castile, and it is quite all right. I have grown used to these accusations by now. After three thousand years you would think the mortals would learn, but still they surprise even me.” Three thousand years? He was almost as old as Aurelia, which meant he was an Ancient too. An ancient that wasn’t evil. “Supper will be ready soon.”
“We aren’t here to be your meal, monster.” William drew his sword. “We are here to cleanse this place.”
“I have maids for that, thank you. I was offering an invitation to be on the guest list, not the menu, but if you are to be rude about it then I will be forced to recant. A pity; the roast pheasant is outstanding.”
“We’re leaving,” Owen said. “Come on, Willy. No evil here, you saw for yourself.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” William stood determined on the stairs as Castile walked past him.
“May I ask the nature of this intrusion?” Castile never took his eyes off of us. There was something unsettling about the way he stared. His gentle mannerisms and soft voice had me on edge. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop – for us to be thrust into battle. Am I just letting William and my past experiences jade me? I wondered. Maybe I’m looking for the monster in people when there is none.
“Willy here thinks if he kills the neckbiter who turned his lady into one of you she’ll be cured,” Micah explained.
“Ah.” Castile sat staring into our souls for a moment before he said anything else. “I can assure you it wasn’t me. I haven’t brought a child into this world since I was turned myself. I wouldn’t wish this upon even the worst of you. Whoever told you there was a cure to our condition is playing you for a fool.”
A maid came in holding a serving tray with a teapot and small porcelain teacups.
“Would you care for some tea?” Castile offered as the maid served him.
“How is that possible?” I asked as I watched him drink. It was very clearly hot tea and not blood. I’d witnessed some of the Archios in the past coyly sip from wine goblets and bottles – but they were drinking blood, not alcohol. “How are you drinking that?”
“With my mouth,” Castile answered in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Do you have anything harder?” Owen asked. “I could go for a gin and tonic.”
“I’m afraid not,” Castile apologized flatly.
“Damn. I was starting to like him,” Owen said, taking off his mask and hood. “Do you mind if I smoke? I hate hunting the neckbiters. It’s always all talk. I need action. I get anxious when I’m not pissed or punching things.”
“Outside,” Castile answered.
“Can we go now, Willy? Are you satisfied yet? I think we’ve bothered this bloke long enough.” Micah tried pulling him away from the stairs.
“He’s still an abomination that doesn’t belong in this world. Not killing him would be an insult to God.” William refused to budge.
“Ah, I see now. You seek redemption for your sins.” Castile spoke between sips of his tea. “Will your resolution to unwavering acts of carnage buy back His love? Paying for your sins with spilled blood. What an interesting notion. Sadly, not an original one.”
“You don’t know anything about redemption, devil!” William spat.
“We’re leaving,” Owen announced and walked to the door with Micah. “Come on, Dorian. Willy, if you don’t want to walk back home you’d better move.”
“I have no need for your particular brand of redemption,” Castile answered. “I have never conceived a child out of wedlock against God’s wishes. Do come back to tell me how your solution plays out for you.”
As soon as I heard Castile say that, I knew the results would not be good. William lost his last shred of self-control and charged at Castile, who didn’t move from his chair. I grabbed William by the arm as he ran by but was knocked down by his blind fury. Micah and Owen bolted from the doorway to stop him, but it was too late. William swung his sword wildly, striking the maid who had just returned to collect the serving tray. She fell to the ground in a pool of her own blood. William had struck a lethal blow to her neck.
“What did you do?!” I shouted at William.
“Mama!” a tiny voice cried from the top of the stairs. A boy of about six sobbed as he looked down at the body. The butler and other servants came in to try and help the poor maid, but it was too late.
“Will your penchant for murder ever allow you to atone for your sins?” Castile asked. He spoke calmly, but I could hear a growing agitation in his voice. “You slay the good, the innocent, the mortal and immortal alike, and yet I am the monster?”
“That was your fault.” William tried placing the blame on Castile. “These people shouldn’t be here serving a creature like you.”
Two of the housemaids covered the body over with a sheet while choking back tears. The butler went upstairs to pull the boy away from the sight.
“Shut up!” William screamed at them. “You aren’t supposed to be here! You should be free! How can you raise a child in the presence of the Devil?!”
“Right now the only monster here is you.” I glared at William as Micah and Owen dragged him away.
“Perspective and reality are a funny thing,” Castile said, remaining stoic. “Which truly influences the other? Does the world we look upon merely reflect what we believe it to be because we are told it is so? Mortals can only see through their own eyes. How can they tell their senses aren’t deceiving them? Is it trust in teachings? Faith?”
“I have seen through the eyes of many and even something as simple as the color of the sky can be refuted endlessly. How can any one man’s perspective be superior to the next when none are ever the same? Reality is malleable and tempered by our perspective. From where you stand I am the monster. Even your comrades entertained the thought because you poisoned their minds to think so. But now your actions have changed that perspective. Does that no longer make me the monster? Or are we both? Which is the reality? Or are there many realities combining into one?”
“Is murder for a cause as noble as love any more justified than indiscriminate slaughter? Is it the victims who temper that reality by passing judgments of innocence or guilt? Does their verdict change the universe or do they simply assuage their own need for resolution and accept it as their
new reality?”
“How many of the damned can you slay before you risk becoming worse than they? What do you call yourself now, man or monster?”
“I am a man of God!” William shouted. “Your riddles mean nothing to me. Your mind games will never break who I am! I will beg for His forgiveness and He will understand because I am His loyal child!”
“I wonder… what path will you choose this time?” Castile asked as the servants carried the body away. “Will you spare your beloved further indignity and release her from this immortal coil? Will you wield that periapt as an instrument of mercy or hatred? Will you set free the rage boiling over in your soul and take revenge upon a world that tempted you beyond the limits of your faith?”
Castile’s eyes gave off a faint glow, turning their honeyed color to gold. “Leave us now and retire for the evening. When you awaken, our encounter will be gone from your memory. Until next time.”
The Blackbournes turned and left without a word or further resistance from William.
“Stay,” Castile said as I went to follow them. “There is much we need to discuss.”
“They’re kind of my ride,” I said as I watched them walk away. The clocks in each room struck one at the same time, almost making me jump out of my skin. I hadn’t realized how long we’d been at Castile’s mansion. “And it is getting kind of late.” I inched toward the door.
“They are under my control at the moment and no good to you. We’ve played out this very charade many times before. This is the first time they have brought me someone like you, however.” Castile stood and placed a hand on my back, leading me to a sitting room. He hadn’t torn William’s head off; that fact put me somewhat at ease that he wouldn’t lash out at me either.
“What do you mean you’ve met them before?” I asked.
“For ten years these three have been at my door with the same purpose. Each time I send them away with no memory of our meeting.”