Blood of a Werewolf

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Blood of a Werewolf Page 11

by T. Lynne Tolles


  “Now just hold up a minute, you are not going anywhere without us,” Devon said. “I’m totally behind our original plan and the original plan said we stick together. We all go on the red eye, but we grab what we can to protect ourselves first. Darby, grab those protection pouches you made and anything else you can think of that we might need. Throw them all into a bag along with some necessities for the next day or two. Blake, grab some clothes and some cash out of the safe in the basement, and I’ll do the same. Make sure you both have your cell phones and I will meet you in the car.”

  No more than ten minutes passed before all three of them were in the car for the thirty-five minute drive to the airport. They had lucked out in standby and all three of them were able to board the red eye flight. Darby tried to focus on her sister, as she knew Blake was trying to do. So far, nothing – she must still be unconscious. Though everyone was exhausted, not one of them could sleep. Blake had checked the plane many times to see if Rowan was stashed somewhere, but to no avail. The chances were slim that she would have been on their flight. Darby hoped that it meant they were taking a later flight. Devon had told her that chances were almost impossible for the thugs to get an unconscious passenger on board without questions. It was more likely that they were on a private charter. Either way, the three were making good time and they hoped they would beat Rowan and the thugs back to Maine.

  On their layover in Chicago, Darby called Allison back and explained why the phone had gone dead. She told her there was an emergency and that she had to fly to the east coast during the night. She’d be back as soon as she could. She also asked her to check on Harry, making sure he was home safe and sound and fed. She ended the conversation just as they were about to get on the plane with, “Thanks again, Allison! But for your own safety, don’t say a word about my whereabouts, no matter who asks.” Allison had questioned this, but it was clear that she accepted it as the conversation came to an end.

  A couple of more hours on the plane from Chicago and finally they were pulling into Portland, Maine at 10:10 A.M. With no baggage checked, they whizzed through the airport to the car rental and were on the road to Cape Cottage by 10:45 A.M.

  Chapter 12

  On the road to Cape Cottage, Blake sat in the backseat with Darby.

  “I know we’ve never practiced this, but I want you to try and visualize this before we get there. In the past, when you’ve used your power, it was a bubble or wall to protect you. What I would like you to try to do is to visualize the bubble or wall around the bad guy. As sort of a cocoon, if you will, that way he cannot escape. I think this may be useful in a couple of scenarios. Since we still can’t sense Rowan, we have to assume she’s unconscious, either by injury or by drugs. If she’s hurt and can’t defend herself, then you can keep an impenetrable bubble around her to prevent anything else from hurting her.

  “Another scenario might be if you could keep Paine in a bubble, he can’t hurt anyone. Devon and I can take care of any thugs that may appear by surprise. You can continue this bubble until we finish talking with him. If he refuses to see reason, Devon and I will be on either side of the bubble as you relax it and we will take care of him. Then we look for Rowan.

  “So the way you visualized before will be the same, except that you will send the bubble where you want it, like sending a thought to Devon. Do you think you can visualize that?”

  “I think so – good thinking, Blake, very good thinking.”

  “Just visualize Devon being hurt like you did before, and then add your sister. If you have to, try to remember me telling you I was coming for them and you.”

  Devon looked in the rear view mirror and said to Darby, “Be careful though, Love. You know what happened last time. We don’t want to lose you in the fight.”

  “I’ll be careful, I promise. I just wish I could sense her,” Darby answered sadly.

  Blake said, “Well, I’ve been thinking about that too and maybe it is wishful thinking, but I feel that if they had knocked her out by hurting her, she would have awakened by now and we would have felt her. I’m hoping that they used some kind of a sedative or Chloroform on her. At least that way she’s not hurt, just unconscious. That is the only way I am dealing with her not being here. I just keep telling myself, she’s just sleeping somewhere. Otherwise, I think I would be jumping out of my skin about now.”

  “I know, Blake; you’re handling this very well. Think positively. We will find her. I know we will. She’s smart and strong. I know she’s going to be okay. She has to be! Hopefully, this will all be over in a matter of hours,” Darby said.

  Over his shoulder, Devon said, “I hope you’re right.”

  There at the end of the cul-de-sac was the Paine family home. It was huge and formidable with a slight air of creepiness. They parked the car on the street behind a rather large oleander bush, to keep it out of sight from the house.

  They formed a group at the back of the car. Darby hugged Blake and told him not to do anything stupid, like any big sister would advise a little brother. Then she turned to Devon and hugged him like there would be no tomorrow. “I love you, Devon; don’t get yourself killed in there.”

  She grabbed each of their hands in hers, closed her eyes, and said, “I’m putting a small bubble around us right now, just to protect us from a surprise attack, so stay close, okay?” With that, an air of electricity snapped around them and they walked up the driveway to the house.

  Once at the door, they looked at each other, silently confirming this was what had to be done. Devon lifted his hand and knocked rather warily. After a moment, a creepy old man opened the door. “May I help you?” Creepy said.

  “Uhhh,” Devon started, “We’re here to see Terrence Paine.”

  “Have you an appointment with the Master?” Creepy asked.

  “No, but he is expecting us,” Devon replied.

  “Your names?” Creepy inquired.

  Devon answered, “I am Devon Bloomington.” He put his hand out, gesturing to Darby, “This is Darby O’Rielly, and this is Blake Bloomington, my brother.”

  Creepy stepped aside, allowing them into the foyer of the house. “Wait and I will tell the Master you are here,” Creepy said. Then slowly, he crept off down the hall.

  Looking around the foyer, it was apparent the house had been elegant in its past. The ceiling must have been three stories high with a marble and wrought iron staircase hugging the curved wall and the biggest crystal chandelier that Darby had ever seen.

  Creepy guy slinked back towards them slowly and said, “Would you please follow me.”

  They all walked cautiously behind Creepy down a short hallway and into a room that Darby guessed they called the library or study. There in front of a large wood desk was a man in his seventies or so. White/gray hair and balding on top, with strange gray-green eyes, he looked rather muscular for his age. A most horrible grin came over his face as they entered the room and stopped in front of his desk.

  His voice was deep and gravelly. “Ah, now, finally I get to meet the Bloomington boys. I can only guess by your looks that you must be my guest’s sister, Darby. How lovely to meet all of you finally. Of course, I hadn’t expected the added bonus of two such lovely ladies, but the more the merrier, I always say.”

  Darby lunged towards the man, “Where is my sister, you sick old man!”

  “Oh, no need to get nasty, my sweet. You’ll see her in due time.”

  “In time for what?” Devon said. “This isn’t a game. We’re talking about a girl’s life.”

  “Oh, but Devon, it most certainly is a game. Life is the biggest game of all. We make choices that decide the path we take every second of our lives. Where will it lead? Where will I go? We take leaps of faith. We grovel in our disappointments. It’s a roller coaster of highs and lows and all of it is based on our choices – the ultimate game, if you will.”

  “But what does that have to do with us?” Blake demanded. “You say we have choices, but we didn’t have a choice. We do
n’t even know what your dispute was with our father. You’ve killed him and our mother, who had no choice in the matter.”

  “Well now, your father had his choice. Your mother, on the other hand, didn’t make a choice, but your father made it for her, as he has for you two. It is regrettable that some choices involve more than one person, but well, some people will make choices arrogantly ignoring the consequences they may bring to others.”

  “So you are saying our fates are sealed here; there is no negotiation. You have no remorse for the injuries you’ve inflicted. Everything to you is black and white. There is no gray area in your mind. You see no flaw in your demented plot?” Devon said.

  “There is NO flaw. It is simple and perfect. Rules are rules. You make a choice, you pay the consequences.”

  “You are seriously deluded, Mr. Paine,” Darby said. “You broke the rules yourself.”

  “Oh, you are mistaken child, I did no such thing.”

  “Oh, I think you did. Your child was dying and you were willing to break the rules to give him additional life. You are the one who broke the rules, not Mr. Bloomington. You came to him in order to save your child’s life, knowing that it was a very gray area you were stepping into. Mr. Bloomington told you that it wouldn’t work. Your son was too weak. He’d never survive the transformation. You were mad with hate and vengeance. He told you that your son would become a killer, someone you couldn’t control, someone who would not adhere to your black and white world.”

  “No, that’s not…”

  “Oh, but it is, Mr. Paine. It most certainly is. You were making an arrogant decision for someone else, ignoring the consequences it might have brought. You were making a decision for your son, without letting him have any say in the matter. You think your son wanted to be a vampire, just so you could have more time with him? You think your son wouldn’t have killed you, if he had been turned, in order to feed? Mr. Bloomington did the right thing. He kept your honor and your black and white world intact and you thanked him by killing his wife. Then you whispered in his ear that you would hunt down his children and kill them in payment for your loss before you killed him too. That’s about as gray as it gets, Mr. Paine. You have deluded yourself all these years into thinking you had some noble plan, that your rules were the right rules and the only rules. Well, your hands are covered in blood and your gray area surrounds you like a tomb. What do you have to show for it? Your son is dead. Your wife is dead. You’ve killed two innocent people and tried to kill a third. You have no one who cares for you and no one you care about except your thugs and trust me, you stop paying them, and they won’t be here anymore either.”

  “You despicable little twit, how dare you?” He jumped out of his seat as if he were going to lunge towards her.

  “Now, now, my sweet, let’s not get nasty! After all, rules are rules. We make our choices. Seems to me you’ve made all kinds of choices that broke the rules and now you will pay dearly for the consequences awaiting you.” Darby glared and snapped her bubble from around Devon, Blake, and herself and formed it around the old man. With hate in her eyes, she shrank the bubble around him.

  “Now, Mr. Paine, sit down.” She forced the bubble down, so that he could do nothing but sit.

  “You tell me where my sister is and I’ll allow you to breathe. I think if I concentrate hard enough that bubble around you might just get stifling. Now where is my sister, you horrible old man?”

  “I’ll never tell you. Never.”

  “I’d think about that very hard. You see, I too can think in black and white. You give me what I want or you die – simple – such a fun little game you’ve invented. Do you like being on the losing side of the board, Mr. Paine? It’s not as pretty over there is it?”

  Then she squeezed a bit tighter on the bubble. He was clearly uncomfortable, but remained stubborn.

  “Sweetness,” Darby looked at Devon, “Maybe we should summon his son and wife and let them know just how horrible of a man he is. I think I remember how Rowan summoned Mr. Bloomington. Such a nice reunion that was,” she said, looking at Devon and then at Blake. She continued, “What do you think? I wonder how they would react to the killing of innocent people. I wonder if they know how close you came to turning your son into a vampire for your own selfish reasons. Tell me, Mr. Paine, if you could have had your son turned and somehow could have controlled him, would you have ordered him to kill innocent people you didn’t find so black and white?”

  It was apparent that the old man was having difficulty breathing, as the air in his bubble must have been next to none. He was probably very close to breathing in only carbon dioxide that his body had exhaled.

  “You don’t look like you’re feeling very well, Mr. Paine. I could add a little extra air in there so you could visit with your family. I’m sure they will be thrilled to hear about all your grisly deeds.”

  The old man was gasping. “No, please, no. My family doesn’t need to know.”

  “Are you sure? I’m feeling like that is a pretty gray area and I wouldn’t want to impede on your perfect little plan.”

  “No, no.”

  “Then where is my sister, old man? I swear to you on my parents’ grave, if you’ve hurt her, I’ll be back and you will wish for death to come. I’ll find some horrible spell to cast on your spirit that you will never know peace again. My sister and I come from a long line of witches, some good and some very, very evil. You won’t even remember the Bloomingtons as you will be smote with all the powers of the O’Rielly coven I can conjure up. You will be more miserable in your after life than anyone in Hell, I guarantee it. Now where is she?” Again she tightened the bubble. Devon and Blake were starting to feel like they should go get a chair, a pizza, maybe some cards for some poker.

  The old man was wheezing now and he could barely sit up. He said, “Okay, okay. She’s in a warehouse on the harbor near the airport. She is there with Olaf and Norman. The address is 116 Harbor Circle, but you better hurry, they are about to inject her with the next phase of serum.”

  “What? What serum? What are you talking about? You call them right now and stop them!” Darby screamed at him.

  “We injected her with werewolf blood and I can’t call because the cell phone signals can’t get through. They are in the basement, under several feet of concrete – no signal.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “We couldn’t take any chance that she had been turned into a vampire by one of the Bloomingtons. Since vampires and werewolves are mortal enemies, well, we thought it would kill off the vampire blood in her system.”

  “And what would that do? Counteract the vampire blood and make her human?”

  “Well, no, but it would definitely kill her, if she was a vampire.”

  “But she’s not a vampire!” Blake yelled. “I would never turn her like that, you stupid old man. What will it do to her if she has no vampire blood?”

  “Well, I suppose, either kill her or transform her.”

  “Kill her? Or transform her? Transform her to a werewolf? You are so incredibly demented. I can’t even think! You son of a ….” Blake growled and his eyes started to turn bright crimson red before Devon put his hand on his shoulder to pull him back from his anger and Paine.

  “Is there some way to undo this?” Blake hissed, shrugging his brother off of him.

  “Nope.”

  “Nope – that’s it? Where did you get this blood?” asked Darby.

  “We came across a werewolf in our wanders looking for you young men. We killed him and thought the blood might come in handy.”

  “How many doses have you given her?” Darby asked.

  He pursed his lips as if in thought, “Well, if they followed my instructions, I’m guessing the fourth will be administered in,” he looked at the clock on the bookshelf across the room, “about 15 minutes.”

  The fury in Darby was about to explode. Devon could see it in her eyes. She asked very slowly. “Is there anyone else in this house?”
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  “No. Just Joseph and myself,” the old man answered.

  She turned to Devon, “You and your brother, go to the warehouse and get my sister out of there. Grab some of the werewolf blood too. Maybe we can make an antidote, a spell or something, but get her out of there. When you have her safe, call me on my cell phone. I’m staying here with Paine!”

  “I can’t leave you alone.”

  “I’m not letting him out of that bubble and Mr. Creepy, Joseph or whatever, well, he’s got to be one hundred and twelve, what can he do? I’ll just threaten to kill Paine here – Creepy will have none of that, I’m sure. Besides, there are two thugs there and one of you will be dealing with caring for Rowan. We’ll meet back here. Please, Devon, another dose is due to be given to her! Please hurry!” Devon knew she was right, but he still didn’t want to split up the group. He kissed her on the forehead, turned, and fled out the door, dragging Blake by the arm. Just to be safe, Devon told Blake to tie Mr. Creepy to a chair.

  She turned back to the old man. “You better hope she’s still alive. Maybe I should have one of the Bloomingtons turn you into a vampire and then inject you with werewolf blood. We can see how you like it. I’m sure your old body would have a heck of time fighting that off.”

  His eyes were wide. She kept just enough air permeating the bubble as necessary to keep Paine alive. She paced back and forth, always looking at him, focused on the bubble that she wanted to collapse on him so badly. Her jaw hurt from clenching it so hard in determination and rage.

  “So tell me, Mr. Paine, what gave you the idea that injecting a vampire with werewolf blood would kill a vampire?”

  “The book!” He glanced at a beautiful old book at the corner of his desk, bound in leather and more ancient than her book of shadows. The cover was ornate, carved, and inlaid with what looked like jewels. The page edges were gilded in gold and the pages inside were adorned with exquisite calligraphy – all hand done. It was illustrated with both beautiful and grotesque pictures. She couldn’t read any of it as she kept her focus on the mean old man behind the desk.

 

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