by ID Johnson
“Okay, look, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” Aaron said calmly. “I’m sure Cass will be fine.”
“I guess so,” Cadence admitted. “I just hate thinking she’s upset.”
“I think she’s more upset that you didn’t like her news than about me,” Brandon replied haughtily.
Before Cadence could reply, Aaron jumped in. “Regardless, we have a hunt to go on, so we need to get changed and get out of here. And Brandon, I’m sure your mom is probably starting to wonder where you are.”
Brandon’s expression shifted noticeably, a look of sadness and then irritation displayed before indifference took over. “Trust me, she won’t have any idea what time I get in.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow for a moment but decided now was not the time. “Cadence, are you ready to go?” he asked, hoping she had calmed down.
“Yes,” she replied, with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Brandon,” she added. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset at you. It’s just… hard being reminded of your… of Elliott. But it’s also really great to be around you. You’re a lot like him. And I guess I just hated to think of Cassidy knowing you’re out there, that you exist, but that you’re never going to be a part of her life, because she really misses him, too.”
Brandon put his arm around her. “I know you miss my dad,” he said quietly. “And I’m glad I remind you of him. But… I’m not him. I never even got to meet him.”
“I know, and I hate that for you. Because he was….”
“Irreplaceable,” Aaron offered.
Cadence considered that response; Brandon could never truly replace Elliott. She needed to find a way to accept that. “Yes,” she agreed. “But you’re pretty damn special in your own right.”
“Thanks,” Brandon said squeezing her. “I’m glad you guys came.”
“Me, too,” Cadence replied, smiling up at him.
“Oh, hell,” Aaron said, slamming his hands down on the table, causing them both to look up in surprise. “I really hope I don’t regret this, but what the heck. All right, Brandon. You can come with us. But you will stay exactly where I tell you to the entire time, got it?”
Brandon’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“What?” Cadence asked over the IAC. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I know. I may have lost my ever-loving mind. But it might be the only way we can get him onboard.” Aaron explained. “You’ve got this, right?
“Sure,” Cadence confirmed. “He’ll be fine. But I think there might be something wrong with you.”
“Yep, let’s go before he changes his mind,” Cadence said, pushing him out of the booth. “I hope you don’t scare easily.”
“Who me? Nah, I’m not afraid of a little Vampire,” Brandon assured her, absently wondering what in the world he had gotten himself into. If Vampires really did exist, he wasn’t sure he wanted the only thing standing between him and a bloodsucker to be a five-foot-eight brunette who may or may not be crazy.
***
Walking through the entrance of the cave felt a bit like going through a portal to Giovani; he felt the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand up, a sensation he was used to causing, not experiencing himself. Despite the fact that it was still daylight outside, the cave was dark, dank, and smelled like the countryside after a rain shower. His eyes adjusted to the dim light easily, and he was able to follow a winding path that eventually led to a small chamber where the rays of sunshine could no longer penetrate. The ceiling height increased here so that he was no longer having to hunch his shoulders, and the further in he walked the more the space above him soared. Eventually, he found himself standing in a cathedral type room full of stalactites and stalagmites.
He appeared to be alone, as he could not see anyone else, and yet he had the sensation that he was not the only one in the room. He peered around the chamber, squinting to compensate for the lack of light, yet no one appeared before him. “Hello? Is anyone there?” he called quietly. There was no answer, and he thought perhaps he had come at a time when the great Vampire was not at home. Yet, he still felt as if he was being watched. After a few moments, he tried again, shouting this time. “Hello? Daunator, if you are here, I would like to speak to you!” Once again, he waited. After an extended amount of time with no response, he shook his head and turned to go. As he pivoted, he felt a cold hand on his shoulder, pulling him back sharply. He glanced down to see a bone-white hand, with spindly long fingers grasping his sweater. Giovani was not afraid of many things, but this even frightened him a bit, and so he turned around slowly, cautiously.
The face he looked into could only be described as death himself; white as ebony, with eyes so dark they seemed to be gaping holes, save the crimson outline that almost glowed in the dark. His skin appeared to be paper thin, his lips pulled back in a grimace. He wore a black cloak, and the hood slipped down stopping just short of his pencil thin brows. “Giovani,” he hissed, “you have come to me at last.”
It took him a moment to find his voice, and he was keenly aware that the skeleton hand still rested on his shoulder. “Yes, sire,” he said, bowing his head, suddenly full of respect for this ancient being. “I was hoping you might help me… solve a problem.”
Daunator’s face froze for a moment before he broke into a vicious laugh, slapping Giovani on the shoulder roughly as he did so. He drew his hand back then, and taking his time, stared the younger Vampire up and down, as if he was not yet sure if he were worthy of his assistance. At lengths he asked, “What is it that you seek?” Advice? Consecration? Malediction?”
“Yes, sire,” Giovani admitted, clearing his voice. “All three, if I am honest. I need your help. I seek to destroy the Guardian and Hunter Leaders once and for all, bringing the Vampires back into power, and ridding the world of those who would destroy us.”
Without speaking, Daunator inhaled sharply, and turning on his heels, he walked slowly to the back of the chamber where a large wooden chair, perhaps a throne, suddenly appeared; Giovani was certain he had not seen it there before. Hesitating for a moment, Giovani finally decided to follow. Daunator sat, made himself comfortable, and then after another deep breath, he asked, “Why do you wish to embark upon this endeavor? Why do you deem yourself worthy of destroying those who would seek to destroy you?”
Giovani was not ready for this question; it had never occurred to him that he might be unworthy or incapable of completing the task he had set his mind upon. After a few moments of contemplation, he replied, “I am the son of Holland. I seek vengeance on those who ended her reign; as her heir, I am both capable and worthy of redeeming her loss against those who assailed her and the rest of our clan so viciously.”
Several more moments passed in silence as the ancient one considered the response. At long last, he responded, “To defeat the Guardian Leader, you must weaken him. You must destroy the one he loves above all else. This is, of course, the Hunter Leader. You are not strong enough to defeat her.”
“What?” Giovani asked, shocked. “But, I….”
“Silence,” Daunator reprimanded, his voice still just above a whisper. “If you believe yourself strong enough to defeat her, you are a fool. And I will not waste another second speaking to one who has such little sense.”
Momentarily swallowing his pride, and dropping his head, Giovani whispered, “Yes, sire.”
“No, I’m afraid there is not a single Vampire alive who can defeat her. She is powerful; strong, swift, intelligent, passionate. You cannot destroy her. None of us can.”
“Then how…?”
“Should you choose to listen, I shall advise you in how it shall be done.” He was losing patience now, his dagger-like fingernails dragging into the armrests of his chair.
“I’m sorry, sire,” Giovani replied, folding his hands in front of himself. “Please continue.”
“There is but one way to defeat her. You must create one who is stronger than any of us now, any that have existed. One who is already so evil
that the Resurrection serves only to darken his already blackened soul. Find him, and then you will have a small chance of defeating her. You may outnumber her, but even then you will not be successful unless you can overpower her in one-on-one combat. You must disarm her--and you must find a way to lure her in alone.”
Giovani was overwhelmed with such a complicated response. “How? How would I do such a thing? Even if I could find one so evil, there’s no way that I can get her by herself, unarmed.”
“You must think. Use your resources. Consider what is valuable to her above all else. That is her weakness.”
“I’d never be able to get Aaron by himself either….” Giovani thought aloud, knowing that he could draw Cadence in if he could somehow manage to capture the one she loved.
“Is he the only one? Does she love no other the same as he?”
Once again, Giovani found himself in deep contemplation. He had already destroyed Jack, his first pawn. Elliott, perhaps, would have been enough to draw Cadence in for a rescue. But he was long dead now as well. Who else would she be willing to give up everything for? And then, a smile broke over his scruffy face as he realized exactly there was hope that he could get Cadence to surrender herself. “Sire, I know I can get her to come to me, now. But who do I get to destroy her once I have her?”
“Go, now. Continue your contemplation. Seek the advice of those most sacred to you. The answer will come in good time,” Daunator said, clearly through with his sagely duties.
Giovani was not completely satisfied with that response, but he was smart enough to know he needed to make his exit now before he overstayed his welcome. Daunator had already given him invaluable advice. “Thank you, sire,” he said bowing low. “Your assistance is greatly appreciated.”
Daunator said nothing, only waved his hand dismissively.
Giovani turned to wind his way back out of the cave. A few steps into his retreat, he turned and looked over his shoulder, hoping to offer his thanks one more time. The cave was empty, no trace of Daunator anywhere to be seen. Shaking his head in disbelief, Giovani continued on his way back out of the cave.
When he emerged, Zabrina threw her arms around him, embracing him tightly and kissing his lips. Eventually she let him go, and exclaimed, “There you are! Thank God! We thought you were never coming back!”
“What are you talking about?” Giovani asked. “I was only gone a few minutes.”
“It’s been four hours,” Nelo informed him.
Giovani realized now the sun had set. “How is that possible?” he wondered, turning around and looking back at the entry to the cave. But behind him he saw only a solid stone wall. This was strange magic, even for Vampires, and he wasn’t sure if any of it was real. What he did know, however, was how to lure Cadence Findley in. Now, all he needed to do was find someone strong enough, and evil enough, to destroy her once and for all.
Chapter Seven
Lightening illuminated the sky off in the distance, and thirteen-year-old Julia Cannon bolted upright in bed. Looking out her bedroom window, she saw that the wind was picking up, and a rumble of thunder confirmed her suspicion that it was about to storm. She hated storms, always had, but was particularly frightened of them since a tornado had ripped through their neighborhood when she was ten, and while her own home was hardly touched, seeing many of her friends left homeless, one of them motherless, had been enough to make her anxious every time the skies looked threatening.
Another boom, this one closer, made her jump. She looked at the time. It wasn’t quite one o’clock yet, which meant her mother probably wasn’t home. She worked as a nurse in Tulsa, which was at least twenty minutes away from their home in Catoosa on a good night, and now that it was raining, she probably wouldn’t be home for at least another half an hour. Another crack of lighting sliced across the sky, and Julia pulled the covers up to her neck, closing her eyes for a moment, hoping that would somehow calm her nerves; it didn’t, and the next peel of thunder sent her cowering beneath the sheets.
A bellow of wind brought in the rain. Julia peered out from under the blanket just as a flash of lightening illuminated the sky, and she could see the deluge coming down in sheets now. A tree branch began to screech its way across the glass in her bedroom window, and though she could see the culprit each time the sky lit up, she couldn’t help but imagine, perhaps, it was something else; perhaps it was really the long sharp claw of a witch floating beneath that same scraggly old maple. The flashes began to illuminate the objects in her room as well, and as her eyes began to adjust from darkness to light, back into darkness again, she watched as the shadows in her room shifted and changed their forms. She blinked her eyes, holding them shut for a moment, assuring herself that her closet door was still firmly shut, that no one was sitting in her rocking chair across the room, that nothing had slithered beneath her bed.
Finally, when she could stand the ravages of her imagination no more, she slid her hand out from beneath the covers and picked up her cell phone. She quickly dialed her mother, and with each ring, her heartbeat increased. Eventually, her mother answered with a distracted, “Julia? What are you doing up?”
“Sorry, Mama,” she whispered sharply. “The storm woke me up. I was wondering if… if you were about home.”
The connection wasn’t good, the storm likely interfering with the signal. “I’m driving home now, honey,” her mom reassured her. “But it’s raining pretty hard. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Now, go back to sleep. Okay?”
“All right, Mama,” Julia agreed. “Be careful.”
“I will, sweetheart. See you in a bit. I love you,” her mother replied.
Before Julia could respond, her mother ended the call, and she found herself forced back into utter aloneness, the storm still shaking her house and her soul.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Julia assured herself aloud. “It’s just a storm. There’s no tornadoes, or my mom would have said. And there’s no witches… or ghosts… or vampires.”
With the last word, Julia heard a soft creaking sound from downstairs, followed by a shuffle, and then complete silence. Her heart stopped; was that her mother coming in the back door? Was it her imagination? Or was it… something else?
She listened with her whole being, waiting to see if she heard footsteps on the stairs. If it had been her mother, she would have said something, since she knew Julia was still awake. And, if she had been so close to home, wouldn’t she have said she was about to pull into the driveway? No, it couldn’t have been her mother. Perhaps, it had only been her imagination. She was scared--and jumpy. Just then, she thought she heard another small creak from the living room, as if the floorboards were shifting under the weight of someone--or something. If it were a murderer, surely he would have made his way up the stairs by now. Her mind shot to the news she had heard today, about the Jogging Path Killer in Philadelphia. Maybe he had made his way here, to Oklahoma, to her house. Maybe he had decided to start murdering young girls in their beds instead of joggers. Maybe she would be his next victim.
She knew it all sounded ridiculous. Murderers didn’t just wait downstairs for you to come down so they could kill you. It was nothing; it had to be nothing. Still, she listened carefully for another sound. She heard nothing, except for the boom of the thunder outside. Maybe she couldn’t hear him climbing the stairs because of the storm.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she whispered. “Are you a little girl or a woman? You’re old enough to stay home by yourself. Surely, you can go downstairs and make sure the house is still locked up.”
She hesitated for a moment, wanting to hop out of bed and go alleviate her own fears, but she was still scared. Suddenly, there was a droning noise, and her ceiling fan turned off. It came back to life for a split second, but then it went off again. The power was out. Now, the terror began to well up inside of her again. Not only was she all alone, a storm raging outside, strange noises downstairs, she wouldn’t even be able to turn on the lights.
“All right, Julia,” she whispered. “Stop being a baby. You can do this.”
She picked up her phone, trying to decide whether she should use the flashlight to make her way down the stairs or just leave it off. After all, if there were someone--or something--waiting for her downstairs, the flashlight would alert him that she was coming. If she left it off, she could be stealthier, and maybe he wouldn’t know she was coming. If she saw him first, she could maybe get away or hide. Or wait for her mother to come home.
Maybe she should wait for her mother to come home.
“You’re such a baby,” she said, clutching her phone. For now, she left the light off. She knew her way down the stairs in the dark, and the flashes of lightning were enough to help her find landmarks along the way.
With another deep breath, she pulled herself to her feet and willed herself to jump away from the bed so that no spindly hands could reach out from beneath and grab her ankles. Of course, nothing happened, and she hurried past the closet and the rocking chair--was it moving?--and made her way out of her bedroom into the hallway.
Their house was a two story, but it wasn’t very big. There were two bedrooms up here, hers and her mom’s, and then downstairs there was a living room, kitchen, a small parlor, and a dining room. The stairs led to the living room where the front door was located. Her mom always pulled into the car port and used the back door. So there was absolutely no reason why the front door should be unlocked or disturbed in any way. From the top of the stairs, she peered down below, trying to ascertain whether or not it looked as if it had recently been opened; she couldn’t tell.