by K. C. Blake
Jack’s eyes widened. He couldn’t remember hearing anyone talk about killing a person with such vehemence, especially not their own father. And what did Ian mean about not having enough power? How much worse could his father be?
“My father is a right nasty piece of work, Jack.” Ian answered the silent question. Could he read minds, too? Jack hoped not. Ian continued, “He is the most powerful warlock in this world. If I told you his name, you would know exactly who I was speaking of. He’s that infamous. However, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to say it. Silly superstition I know, but there are people who think my father can zoom in on anyone who speaks his name, and maybe they’re right.”
A name came to Jack’s mind, someone he’d heard of, a horrible man with terrible powers. Stunned, he said, “I thought he was a myth.”
Ian laughed, the low rumble burdened with rage. “Everything you heard is true. He is without compassion, without mercy, without a single positive trait of any kind. Although I’ve tried not to become him, tried hard not to develop my powers, I still have them. I’ve refused to study magic. I have never used a spell in my life. All the same, I can kill werewolves with a touch. It’s a gift and a curse.”
“Why did you bring a bag of weapons when you were just going to burn the werewolves with your hand?”
“Those weapons weren’t for me,” Ian said. “They were for you. I’m a cautious man. If they got past me, you would have needed those weapons.”
Was he planning on using the power on Billy?
“I won’t let you kill my brother.”
“You do have a one track mind, don’t you?”
Ian dragged his gaze from the dark road to look at Jack for a second. There seemed to be a silent apology in his eyes. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me from putting him down. You have to understand your brother is gone. Billy Creed no longer exists. He’s a monster now, like the werewolf who stabbed you, like my father.”
“No!” Jack remembered the first conversation he’d had with Billy after his own return to mortality. They’d discussed his life with fangs over a ton of food. He remembered the way Billy had looked at him. “That’s the same thing people thought about me when I was a vampire, but I was still me on the inside. Hunters wanted to kill me, hunters like Billy and like you. I wasn’t a bad guy though. I didn’t kill anyone. When I needed blood, I used animals or stole from blood banks or took on willing donors.”
“I am more happy than I can say that you returned to a human state, but you were a monster when you were a vampire, and if I’d come across you back then, I would have killed you on the spot.”
It was finally out in the open. Ian Carver wanted every creature of the night to die. It didn’t matter to him if they were related or if they were pure of heart. Couldn’t he see things weren’t always black and white?
“There are good and bad people in this world,” Jack said. “Do you accept that?”
Ian sighed. “Yes.”
“Well, there are good and bad vampires. There are good and bad werewolves. Why can’t you accept that?”
“Because werewolves are controlled by a burning rage they cannot handle. I realize some of them don’t mean to kill, but their victims are dead all the same. You should feel the way that I do about those bloody beasts. They killed your mother and father. Did they show mercy?” Ian half-turned in his seat and blinked a few times as if trying not to lose the tenuous grasp he had on his emotions. Finally he added, “Now, when I find your brother, I will try to be as humane as possible.”
“Yeah right. You burn them to death. How is that humane? I swear if you even try to set my brother on fire, I will torch your butt myself.”
“If you feel so strongly about it, then you put him down. Have Silver sing him to sleep for all I care, as long as he’s dealt with.”
They parked in front of the house, and Jack jumped out first. He was so mad he could have gone inside, grabbed a gun, and cheerfully pulled the trigger, blowing his uncle away. Lucky for his uncle, he didn’t believe in violence unless it was the only way. He also didn’t kill humans. Somehow he’d find a way to save Billy before Ian could get to him.
Ian had locked the front door before leaving the house. Without thinking, Jack waved his hand over the knob. It clicked. The door swung open. He looked over his shoulder to find Ian watching him with a tight grimace on his face. They both stood there, neither entering.
“Sometimes you still remind me of my father,” Ian said. “He can do that little trick, too. These powers you have are not normal. If you persist in using them, you may turn into something akin to your grandfather. Or you may become a vampire again.”
Jack shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
“I suppose we will.”
“Does your burning touch work on vampires or just werewolves?”
Jack held his breath while Ian shouldered his way past him to cross the threshold. His uncle smiled grimly and said, “It works on anything and everything.”
The message was clear. Watch your back. He would kill Jack without hesitation if he thought he was a danger to another human being. As a matter of fact, Ian was probably already considering doing the deed whether Jack returned to a vampire state or not. The man seemed the type to nip problems before they got out of hand.
Ian stopped abruptly, and Jack walked straight into him.
“What the bloody hell!” Ian moved fast, cutting through the center of the house to the secret room which was wide open. He continued to curse as he ducked inside.
Someone ransacked the house. Jack’s heart dropped to his stomach when he saw the mess. Family photographs had been smashed against the wall. There were shards of glass, torn pictures, and broken frames everywhere. There was a gaping hole in the television, trash on the floor, and ripped curtains barely hanging on the rods. Everything in the room with the exception of the furniture was destroyed.
Ian emerged from the secret room, a grim set to his mouth. “The weapons are gone.”
“All of them?”
“Every last bloody piece gone. The only weapons we have now are the ones we took with us on the hunt.” Ian lifted a finger and jabbed the air with it. His face turned red. “I told you your brother couldn’t be trusted! That’s why we need to rid the planet of all werewolves and vamps, every single last one. Billy is stepping up the stakes, getting ready for an attack. Hell, he’s probably working for your friend Clifford.”
Jack shook his head in denial. “No way.”
“Please do not tell me you have the slightest doubt Billy was responsible for this.”
“It could have been any werewolf. In case you haven’t noticed, this place is a tourist stop for them. Hardly a week goes by without at least one dropping in to kill me.”
Ian lowered his voice to a menacing level and said, “Your brother did this, and I’m going to stop him before he goes onto the next step of his plan. The first thing I’m going to do is borrow Andrew’s special writing tools, and I am going to write spells on every entry point, effectively making this house a werewolf-free zone. Andrew did it at his house and it seems to be working. If Billy comes again, he won’t be able to get inside.”
“I thought you didn’t use spells because of your father.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
Ian crossed over to stand directly in front of Jack, his face a twisted mask of rage. “I am going to make an exception for your brother, and I’m warning you… don’t get in my way.”
Ian grabbed his cell phone and headed into the kitchen while Jack stared after him in silence. Somehow he had to get to his brother and protect him from their maniac uncle. He had no idea how he was going to do it. Maybe Silver could come up with an idea.
Jack went upstairs to his bedroom, relieved to find it in one piece. Whoever had broken into the house had stayed in the living room. Or at least that’s how things first appeared to Jack.
Then he noticed the small yellow square on his window.
>
Slowly he crossed the room. The yellow scrap of paper was a memo, the kind that came with a sticky edge so you could put it anywhere. He recognized it. The intruder had taken one from the stack Billy kept near the house phone in the kitchen. Billy’s handwriting stood out in bold, black letters.
Behind you.
Jack turned.
The closet door burst open, and Billy charged him. Before Jack could even think, Billy grabbed him by the front of his shirt. With a growl Billy spun around in a circle, taking Jack with him. He let go abruptly. Jack hit the window hard. His body instantly shattered the glass, and he fell through it.
An old friend called déjà vu reminded him of the time Jersey threw him off the roof of a tall building when he had been Tobias. It was a horrible feeling sailing through the air, knowing he was going to hit the ground and die. Now it was happening again.
He landed on his back, arms and legs twisted at awkward angles. Pain radiated throughout his body. Blood filled his mouth, coating his teeth. Internal injuries. Broken bones. No doubt he had them all. At least he wasn’t dead. That meant he could heal, given enough time. He could already feel his body trying to right what had gone wrong.
Ian raced outside and knelt next to him. “What happened?”
“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.”
“I’m not touching you. What do I do? Can you heal yourself?”
Panic accelerated Jack’s heartbeat. He had to keep Ian busy, keep him outside long enough for Billy to get away. No matter what his brother did to him, he couldn’t let Ian kill him.
“Straighten… my arms… and legs,” Jack said between short gasps. “My bones won’t… heal right… if you don’t help me.”
He wasn’t sure this was true, but it sounded good.
“You told me not to touch you.”
Jack sighed in frustration and pain. “Well, now I’m asking you to touch me. Do it before… it’s too late.”
Ian tried not to wince in horror when he looked at Jack’s broken body. His expression altered slightly, just enough for Jack to know he was in horrible shape. Ian wasn’t as good as he thought he was at keeping his face neutral. He tried to be careful, gentle with Jack’s legs, but every slight movement felt like Ian was tearing Jack apart. Sliding a hand under the calf, Ian pulled on it.
A cry of agony burst from Jack’s lips. He couldn’t hold it in. Throwing aside the teachings of his father, he cried out every time Ian moved him. Tears flooded his eyes. Every time he thought he’d experienced the worst pain possible, Ian would move him again and he’d learn the truth. Things could always get worse.
“I’m going to kill Billy for this,” Ian said.
“Not if I get to him first!”
“I wish you meant that.”
Part of him did. At the moment, trying to breathe using lungs filled with blood, he meant every word of it. Picturing Billy lying in this position, groaning, made Jack feel a little better. Thinking about burying Billy in his grave and refusing to change the name on the tombstone almost made him chuckle.
Billy certainly wouldn’t rest in peace then.
After several humiliating screams, the job was done. His limbs were straight and they were healing. His lungs were clear of fluid. He could finely take an easy breath. It didn’t take long for him to heal after that. In surprisingly few minutes he was able to sit up. Soon he would be able to stand. He looked at his uncle, ready to thank him for his assistance, but the words stuck in his throat.
Ian’s expression was guarded, dark. There was a murderous glint in his eyes. To him, Jack was a monster, no better than Billy or Jersey. It didn’t matter to Ian if Jack was mortal. It would only make him easier to kill. Without another word Ian went back inside. He didn’t even stick around to make sure Jack totally healed.
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*****
Chapter Four:
LOST
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It was an obscene day for a funeral.
Bright sunlight rested on the casket. A hesitant breeze wafted over the mourners, bringing the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass to their nostrils. Jack shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable to the point of screaming. He wanted to tug on the strangling tie around his neck, but it didn’t seem right for him to worry about his own misery when such a good person was dead. Nothing about today seemed right.
Silver’s fingers jerked in his hand when the casket was lowered into the ground. He turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of her tear-stained face. A steady stream rolled down her cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered. There was nothing he could say. Although he’d lost his father, he hadn’t been forced to attend the funeral, so he couldn’t say he knew exactly what she was going through.
It was partly his fault Andrew Reign was dead.
Two weeks ago Billy threw Jack out his bedroom window. Since then he had been living in a tension-filled house. Uncle Ian didn’t want to protect him anymore. Jack suspected Ian secretly hoped something would kill Jack, saving him the trouble of doing it himself at a later time. Jack walked on a thin tightrope around the man. Every once in a while Jack would turn and catch Ian scowling at him, murderous intent in his eyes.
Jack slept with his bedroom door locked.
Instead of avoiding each other, the two of them should have been working together. Too many werewolves were running loose now, most of them in huge packs. Andrew got in over his head. Not his fault. Before Vanessa could get to him, save him, he was torn to pieces.
Silver didn’t have a father anymore.
At least she hadn’t been there to witness the horrific death. If Jack lived to be a thousand, he’d never get the image of his father’s mangled body out of his head, not to mention his mother’s. Seeing your parents die stuck with you for a lifetime, or several lifetimes if you happened to be a vampire.
The funeral came to a close.
Vanessa took three steps forward; dark sunglasses veiled her bloodshot eyes. She dropped a single white rose into the open grave. Whispered words meant as a private goodbye between husband and wife reached Jack’s super-sensitive ears. He cringed. The words stayed with him, refusing to budge. He expected they would always be there somewhere in the back of his mind, haunting him.
How could you leave me like this?
Would Silver repeat those words over his casket someday?
The crowd slowly dispersed. Sobs of grief faded as people walked away from the gravesite. Jack didn’t budge. He stayed by Silver’s side, waiting on her. She didn’t give any indication that she noticed people were leaving. Statue still, she didn’t move a muscle. Her mother wandered off with a few visiting relatives, oblivious to the fact her daughter wasn’t with her.
“Do you want to be alone for a few minutes?” Jack asked in a soft voice. When Silver didn’t immediately answer, he tried again. “Do you want me to go?”
Her voice trembled like ripples in a pond. “I d-don’t ever w-want you to go.”
“Then I won’t.” He squeezed her hand tight for reassurance. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”
“What d-do I do now?”
“Uh… I think we’re supposed to go back to your house.” He tugged at his collar again. “People are bringing over food. I don’t know why they do that. Why bring food to people who have no appetite?”
“No. I mean, what do I do without a father? Who do I turn to when I’m in trouble? Who will protect me and guide me and… l-love me?”
Jack wanted to volunteer, but he knew she didn’t want or expect an answer to her question. Black, suffocating grief took up residence in her heart. There wasn’t room for any positive emotions. He just wished there was something he could do or say to make the pain lessen.
Her liquid eyes gazed up at him. “Will you come to the house with me? Will you stay with me for as long as I want? Even if it means all night?”
He nodded. She turned and walked to the car, slow steps. Vanessa waited for them next to the limo. Jack co
nsidered the ring in his pocket. He carried it with him everywhere he went, hoping the right moment would present itself. It was beginning to look like the right moment only existed in fantasies.
A shadow lurked in the corner of his mind, content to throw doubts at him like sharp darts. Something bad was going to happen to them before he could give her the ring. He wasn’t a fortune-teller by nature, but he knew he was right on this one. An old phrase went through him, icy cold like a shiver.
Something wicked this way comes.
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*****
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Hours slipped by. A blur of sympathetic faces passed through the Reign home. Jack sat next to Silver on the sofa while well-meaning people leaned down to kiss her cheek and give her a quick hug. Whispered platitudes fell on deaf ears. Silver’s mouth remained tight, her eyes vacant. She didn’t say a word to anyone, not even to Jack.
Her mother played the gracious hostess, greeting visitors with a quiet strength worthy of admiration. And by her side the whole day: Uncle Ian. He helped her find a place for the food and directed people to the spare bedroom where they could toss their coats on the bed. He stood close to Vanessa, his eyes constantly on her as if he feared she might break at any second.
Somehow she managed to hold it together.
As the last guest left, Silver stood on wobbly legs. She motioned for Jack to follow her to the front porch. Once they were outside, she collapsed on the porch swing. It creaked as she mindlessly rocked while sobbing. Jack didn’t know what to do for her. He hovered, frozen like a useless block of ice. Her eyes flooded with tears. She looked up and said, “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“I know.” He felt the same way about Billy.
“Could you talk to me for a while? I need to hear the sound of your voice.”
“What do you want me to talk about?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged careless shoulders. “Tell me what it was like when you were in school the first time around. I can’t believe I never asked you that before. I never even thought about it, how strange it must have been to return to Jefferson Memorial after so many years.”