Coven Master

by W. J. May

  Then he looked up at the ceiling, trying to see what was going on outside the house, above them. Something’s falling from the sky. A plummeting sound increased, descending at an incredibly high speed.

  Suddenly, a burst of flames exploded outside the house, flashing against the dark curtains.

  Ryan braced himself, the force almost throwing him off his feet as he cursed. Flames began eating the porch outside. The house groaned in protest and trembled.

  “They’ve found us!” Ryan yelled.

  “Out!” Marcus screamed at the same time. “Back door! Outside now!”

  But it was too late.

  The crevices of the house enlarged and the cracks on the walls distanced themselves from the pillars of the house. The shaking made progress almost impossible, and before they could find their way out of the pandemonium around them the house collapsed and fell.

  Chapter 17

  Fury.

  It was all Marcus could feel, all he allowed himself to feel. The cold bricks and wooden foundations of the house lay around him, on top of him, crushing him. He felt none of it, though. All he could feel was a blind rage that he let encompass him completely.

  This is not how I will end.

  Pushed by the purest of survival instincts, Marcus pushed. He felt his bones crack and his skin rip, but he kept going, growling in anger as he heaved the stones off of himself and stood tall. The wind lapped at him, the dust encircling him as he breathed in the night air, letting his body heal.

  The house lay in shambles around him, devoid of any structure, nothing more than rubble and dust. He scanned the wreckage, searching for Ryan, and when he couldn’t find him, stretched and readied himself for the long search.

  He’d better not be dead.

  It dawned on him, then and there, that for the first time in centuries he was willing to openly admit he needed help. He shook in anger, unable to fathom how it had come to this. His kind was always called upon to assist, not be the ones seeking assistance. Yet, here he was, standing in the rubble of what was once the witch’s lair, hoping his only ally was still alive somewhere beneath the heaps of stone and wood.

  The sound of hissing echoed around him, and the humming began to pick up. Marcus froze, looking at the line of trees, his eyes searching the darkest of shadows. If the hybrids were still here, and he knew they were, they remained hidden.

  From the midst of swirling dust, silhouettes began to take shape. Marcus waited as half a dozen men and women emerged from the dust, holding in their hands makeshift weapons of bats and crowbars.

  Humans.

  Marcus would have laughed if he didn’t know exactly what the hybrids were attempting to do. They knew the humans would be no match for Marcus, and had probably sent them to distract him. To keep him busy while they found an opening for their own attack.

  “This is absurd,” Marcus whispered, taking deep breaths as he readied himself for the upcoming fight. He tried one more sweep with his eyes, hoping to find any trace of Ryan. In a situation like this, he could use the Wolf’s help.

  Especially since Marcus had no idea how many hybrids were actually out there. He knew Adelaide would underestimate his powers, now more than ever when he had no army to back him up, but he doubted she would be stupid enough to send just one of her puppets after him. There would be more. There had to be more.

  Anything else would be an insult.

  Marcus smiled as the first of the humans raced towards him, a large man with a bat, stumbling forward as he attacked. Before the man could even swing his weapon, Marcus backhanded him. The sound of breaking bones cut through the otherwise-silent night.

  Where are you, you damned pup?

  The others attacked and Marcus quickly tore through them, his claws and fangs ripping the flurry of flesh apart, their weapons barely making him flinch. Within minutes he was surrounded by bloody limbs and wide-eyed corpses.

  “You call that a challenge?” Marcus screamed into the night. “You insult me!”

  “Marcus!”

  Marcus barely turned when a blur of fangs and claws raced past him and threw him off his feet. He crashed to the ground, rolling gracefully and jumping back up just as the blur made for him again. Marcus was quick, dodging and attacking at the same time, his hands wrapping around the fleshy neck of his attacker.

  Marcus froze.

  “Bane?”

  The Vampire commander’s fiery red eyes bore into his, and Marcus immediately released his hold. Bane jumped back, away from Marcus, his lips wide in a menacing smile that revealed blood-stained fangs. Marcus gazed at his old friend in disbelief, the one Vampire who was almost as old as he was. He had known Bane for centuries, trusted him with his life. Bane had always been a loyal commander, and seeing him like this, compelled, unaware of what he was doing, made Marcus furious.

  How many more of those I trusted are out there, hunting for me?

  “Bane, you’re alive?” Marcus stared in disbelief.

  The Vampire commander chuckled, a raspy coughing sound that sounded like a rabid animal that had found its evening meal. Bane crouched, watching Marcus intently, his red eyes burning.

  “Bane—”

  “The era of Vampires is over, Marcus,” Bane hissed. “There is only Adelaide and the destruction she will bring down on this world. Yield, Marcus.”

  Marcus let the anger take over once more, and he clenched his fists. “Your words fall on deaf ears, Bane,” he said. “Kneel. Return to your senses.”

  “You no longer command me,” Bane snapped.

  “I will always be your superior,” Marcus returned. “I am your maker. Kneel!”

  “You will die tonight, Marcus.” Bane laughed. “And with your death will come a new age for our kind. A stronger age.”

  From the corner of his eye, Marcus saw movement at the tree line. From the shadows three figures stepped out into the moonlight, eyes ablaze.

  Hybrids.

  The humming intensified.

  “Yield, Marcus,” Bane hissed.

  “Never.”

  “You will not survive the night.”

  “Maybe,” Marcus replied. “But my death will not come at your hands.”

  Bane growled and sprang, his speed incredible, racing towards Marcus with fangs bared. Marcus waited, allowing his commander to come closer, before suddenly turning and lashing out. His fist connected with Bane in a sickening sound of crushed bones, and the Vampire commander was flung to the side. The force should have been enough to keep Bane down but he was on his feet in an instant, as if Marcus had merely slapped him about.

  Marcus wasn’t surprised, though. He had seen it several times during his fights in the city. The compelled were bolder, more vicious, oblivious to pain or threat with their blind determination. It made fighting them harder, and Marcus had realized early on that the only result of a fight was certain death. Most of the time he made the choice easily, wiping out the enemy without a thought. But Bane was different. He was a friend, and Marcus was determined to find some way other than killing him.

  Ryan growled behind him, and Marcus held up his hand in protest. “No!” he shouted. “I’ll handle this.”

  Bane laughed and came at Marcus again, this time much faster, and although Marcus was able to match the Vampire’s speed, he was soon thrust off his feet and slammed to the ground in a shower of gravel and dirt.

  “This is the end, Marcus,” Bane spat.

  Marcus kicked out, hard, and Bane rolled away only to jump back to his feet and attack again.

  I can’t keep doing this. I need to stop him.

  But nothing kept Bane down. They slashed and tore at each other, a blurry mix of fangs and claws. Marcus tried to pin him down several times, but Bane’s determination was too strong. Blind rage had taken over the Vampire commander, and there was no stopping him.

  “You can’t keep this up for long,” Bane hissed when Marcus slammed him against a tree, the trunk cracking with the force, making them both jump out of its t
rajectory as it crashed to the ground.

  He’s right. It needs to end now.

  “One last chance, Bane,” Marcus said. He didn’t expect Bane to listen, and when his friend charged at him again Marcus lashed out, hard and fast, his fist burying itself in the Vampire’s chest.

  Bane’s screams of pain pierced the night like a banshee’s call of the dead. He hung in the air, suspended at the end of Marcus’s arm. Marcus pulled his hand back, clutching Bane’s heart. Bane collapsed onto the ground, still and dead.

  Marcus turned towards the hybrids, their bodies appearing and disappearing with the shifting shadows, only their eyes a sure indication of their presence.

  He held Bane’s heart up for them to see, then crushed it in his hand.

  The sound of moving rubble came from behind him, and Marcus turned just as Ryan pushed himself out from underneath the blanket of bricks behind him. He rushed towards him, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him to his feet.

  Ryan’s knees buckled, and Marcus had to wrap his arms around the boy’s waist to keep him from falling.

  “Brace yourself, pup,” Marcus whispered.

  Ryan looked at him, then followed the Vampire’s gaze. Marcus could see the features on Ryan’s face shift when he saw the hybrids, and underneath his hands the boy’s body began to bend and change.

  “Calm down!” Marcus hissed.

  But it was too late. Ryan pushed him back, and Marcus watched as the boy began to shift and change, morphing into his Wolf form. The hybrids had made their way towards them, slowly, their mouths open in wide grins, ready for a fight. Marcus took a few steps away from the shifting Wolf and turned to face the oncoming attack.

  “Honor your father’s memory,” Marcus yelled. “Avenge his death!”

  With that, Ryan howled, the full moon bathing him in its silver glow, and charged forward with Marcus close behind.

  Chapter 18

  “Do you think they’ve killed him?” she whispered.

  Atlanta and Darian had hurried through the labyrinth mostly in silence. Time had lost all meaning, and only the sound of their footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent corridors.

  They’d barely said two words to each other. Every turn in the labyrinth provided a new obstacle, a puzzle that needed solving. Atlanta’s mind that had once felt awake and ready for anything, now felt drained, and after Raul’s disappearance they were on constant alert. She was exhausted, and so was Darian, their breaths coming in heavy gasps. Their silence was now a mutual understanding that they needed to save their energy for the tasks at hand rather than waste it on useless discussion. How long had they been in the catacombs under the city? Hours? Days?

  Atlanta sighed and glanced at Darian. His eyes were downcast, his lips moving as if in silent prayer. She knew he was trying to figure out how to escape their predicament. This had gone on too long. And Raul...

  There had to be some connection between all the tests they’d been put through. She went through everything quickly, trying to find some link. After leaving Raul behind, they’d arrived at a brick wall with a pipe dangling out of it. Water dripped down, but vanished the moment it touched the ground. On the left corner of the wall had been the stem of a flower planted right in the concrete. Darian had realized they needed to transfer the water with their hands and wash the flower with it. So they did. After minutes that felt forever of waiting, the brick wall disintegrated into red dust.

  Since then, everything that came was a mystery that needed to be solved quickly. Each appeared to have more to do with the basic principles of nature than anything else. They turned off flames with sand deeply engrained in their hands, watered roses with the essence of life, ate fruits on branches of trees growing sideways from the walls of the labyrinth, and even sang to statues of birds on closed walls.

  Still, it didn’t seem like they were coming any closer to finding a way out.

  “Do you think he’s dead?” she asked again.

  “If we’re in one of Adelaide’s games, we can’t exclude that possibility,” Darian replied dryly.

  Atlanta hid her face from his and stared into the distance ahead of them, hoping to see an end to the confinement of the walls around them. “He might not be. Maybe this isn’t Adelaide.”

  “Who else could it be?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s her.” Darian sighed.

  “She does tricks, not games or tests.”

  “How do you know?”

  Atlanta shrugged. “I don’t, I guess. She tricked me.”

  “Yeah,” Darian’s voice carried a tone of tiredness in it, “and this could all be a trick, too. Some sick game she’s playing. Maybe she took Evermore long before Calen.”

  “Wouldn’t you have known that? Aren’t you the Coven?”

  “I am,” Darian said angrily. “It apparently isn’t very helpful. You never heard of me.”

  “My Uncle James once mentioned something about the Coven, but I always pictured him to be an old man, full of knowledge and experience.”

  “Sometimes I feel older than I am.”

  Atlanta sighed. “So do I.”

  “My father was the Coven leader before me. He wasn’t very old. But he was wise.”

  Atlanta was silent a few moments, not sure how to respond. “I don’t know my father. He died when I was a baby.” She pushed forward, not wanting to tell Darian her past. It didn’t matter now. “This seems endless,” Atlanta huffed in frustration.

  “There’s nothing else to do but move forward.”

  “You sound so encouraging,” she said sarcastically, then bit her lip. This wasn’t Darian’s fault. “Sorry. I’m just not used to this.”

  “How so?”

  “Give me something to punch.” She slammed her fist into her other hand. “That’s where I shine.”

  Darian chuckled. “A lot of those puzzles, you solved.”

  “I never said I was stupid.” Atlanta laughed, for the first time in hours. “I’m just out of my element.”

  They turned another corner, and Atlanta hit the wall with her fist. “Seriously?!”

  “What is this?” Darian asked at the same time.

  In front of them was a wall unlike any of the others they’d come across. It was about twenty feet high and about twice as wide. The wall wasn’t made of stone or bricks, but a series of tree branches perfectly woven with one another so as to leave little or no gaps between them, like a web of chestnut brown hairs tangled into a perfect tapestry.

  “What’s that?” Atlanta pointed to the ground by the center of the wall.

  A black box sat, its lid adorned with a ruby stone.

  “What now?” Darian exclaimed in frustration, raising his arms in the air and turning his back to the wall. It was clear he had reached the end of his patience.

  Atlanta walked to the wall and crouched down to examine the box. She cautiously lifted it, and glanced around to see if a wall opened or something happened. Nothing. Carefully, she tried opening it, but couldn’t. Using her strength, she tried harder. “It’s locked. Almost as if someone glued it tight.” She frowned, rolling the box over in her hands, feeling its sleek surface, trying to figure it out. There was nothing out of place or anything that needed to be rearranged or moved.

  She looked up at Darian, but he didn’t seem interested in what she was doing. She watched him wiggle his fingers, his lips moving, as if he was trying to will his magic back.

  “A little help here,” she called to him.

  Darian scowled and then looked at her. “What is it?”

  “I’m trying to figure this out,” she replied hotly, her nerves frayed as well. “Sorry to disrupt your magic-mojo-mumble. One of us is trying to get us out. Maybe once we’re outside this crap-hole, your magic’ll come back. Maybe you could take a moment and help me open this box. If it’s not too much.”

  “Magic what? You think only one of us is trying to get us out of here?” He didn’t try to hide his frustration either. He rolled h
is eyes at her, not offering to help with the box as he moved in circles back and forth. Every time he turned his eyes towards the tree-wall, he clasped his hands as if he were about to pierce through it with his fists. “You’re not the only one feeling trapped here, Atlanta. You think you know it all—” He was sweating, his forehead glistening.

  “I don’t think I know it all! Not once have I ever said that! You’re the one who came looking for me. I didn’t ask for your help—you know what, forget it! Maybe you should’ve sat in the chair instead of Raul.” She stood up and brushed her hands on the branches of the tree, trying to uncover a spot that felt different or odd. “I’ll figure it out myself,” she mumbled. Nothing looked like a test of any kind here. Just a big stupid pile of branches and a box. What were they supposed to do? Scale the vine wall? And then what? Come on!

  Darian suddenly spun around and stomped over by her, swiping the box off the floor. He frantically tried to open it, but all his efforts proved to be worthless. “Damn it, open!” he screamed.

  Even though his anger had gotten the best of him and he’d lost complete control, it was as if it was all calculated and preset. A loud click echoed in the labyrinth corridor, and the lid of the box ascended and floated on top of the box.

  Atlanta raced to his side and looked inside. Empty. After all that? “How’d you do that?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged, his anger evaporating. “I literally just yelled at it to open.”

  When the two fell into silence and tried to look for something inside the box, it closed once more.

  “Open,” Atlanta shouted at it.

  The box opened once more on its own, and the lid hovered above it then fell back when the silence took over.

  “So it opens when we ask it to, and closes when we don’t say anything.” She glanced underneath it. Not that she expected to find anything there.

  “Still nothing inside of it. How bloody helpful!” Darian snorted.

  The box opened once more.

  “Not much of a smart box. Seems it just reacts to anything spoken,” he said.

  Atlanta moved away from the box, trying to see if anything would change with the vines when the box was open. Nothing. After a while of straining, she gave up on trying to figure it out. Fatigue set in. She leaned her back on the wall and sat next to the box. She wished James was here. He’d know exactly what to do. Better than pacing Darian. Who never seemed to sit still. Kind of like you? She almost imagined James saying that to her. “You’re making me uneasy with all the moving around,” Atlanta snapped.