by Peter Dawes
It took a few measured breaths for me to gain my wits again. As I struggled forward, I nearly lost my footing, reaching and grasping hold of a chain link fence before I could collapse again. Shutting my eyes, I attempted to focus on the renewed throbbing in my temples, counting backward from ten to calm the anxiety mounting within me. Opening my eyes, I took another step forward, but this time, my compromised condition was not what caused me to stop.
The sound of a bolt clicking into place within a crossbow did an adequate job of that.
“You’ll want to stay right where you are, little vampire,” a Germanic, and oddly-familiar, voice said. I furrowed my brow, wondering if the tampering Monica had done with my mind brought a real-life hallucination of an old friend to life, but when I turned to face him, there he stood.
Julian Reichlin startled when our eyes met. The years had greyed the edges of his hair and beard, adding lines to his face and reminding me that more than a decade had passed since the last time we had spoken. I tensed against the way he regarded me and while he lowered his crossbow, suspicion and uncertainty hung heavy in the air between us. At once, a startling truth about the situation became manifest, reminding me that the Order never sent a seer anywhere if dark magic was not present.
“Help me find my wife, Julian,” I said. “I fear I might have underestimated the gravity of her condition.”
Part Three
A Personal Mission
“Of all the things God has made, the human heart is the one
that sheds most light, and alas! most night.”
Victor Hugo, Les Miserables
Chapter Eight
It did not surprise me that my request had him at a loss. I turned to survey the alley surrounding me, ignoring the fresh body lying on the ground near where Julian stood. My head still hurt, an aura of pain fading, yet not fast enough for my taste. “I should have known,” I muttered.
“Where did your wife disappear to?” Julian asked. I heard him walk toward me, closing the distance between us in several long strides which ended a few feet shy of me. While I did not look at him, I could sense him making the same psychic sweep of the neighborhood I had. “I tracked a signature to this place, but it faded the moment I arrived. I can’t sense anything else.”
“So it is not only my impaired condition, then. They have themselves masked.” Shifting to the side, finally, I frowned at Julian as my gaze settled on him. He made eye contact and mirrored my expression. “There are two of us now,” I said. “Perhaps we should take separate routes and cover more ground.”
“It would help better if I knew what I just stumbled onto.”
“Can we save explanations for later? It strikes me that we have a limited amount of time before any chance we have at finding her fades altogether.”
Julian nodded, exhaling steam as he released a deep breath. “Fine. We should meet somewhere else when we are finished, though.” He cast a wary glance in the direction of the fallen human. “How about in an hour?”
“That sounds reasonable. Do you know where the coven of Ophelia Romani is located?”
“I can find out very quickly.” His lips quirked upward, by the slimmest of margins.
“That you can.” I sighed. My gaze strayed once more, toward the north. “I will search this side of town. You explore around the lakefront. We will meet back there in an hour.”
In my periphery, I saw Julian nod. He patted my shoulder before running off. When I could not stop myself from eyeing Monica’s victim once more, my stomach sank, thoughts straying toward the insanity of what had taken place. I still had not accepted it. Flynn remained quiet and an inevitable state of shock stayed at bay only long enough for me to focus on an immediate task. She could not have wandered far, I told myself. Somehow, I needed to find her.
While Julian turned toward the south, I walked northward, my stroll becoming a brisk walk the moment I had placed a block’s worth of distance between me and the bar. Rolling images circled my addled mind bearing witness to the past few days while leaving a riddle in their wake. If Monica had been influenced somehow by a dark magician – and odds would have that being either Sabrina or Patrick, though I fought against considering that further for the time being– it explained her erratic behavior. What I could not determine was how and when they had gotten ahold of her.
Not before the opera, I told myself. Even if I had let her roam the coven throughout the course of several weeks, I had never left her alone while out. Yes, she had embraced a far more adventurous side, but throughout it all, she never lost her inherent sense of self. I saw nothing wrong with the friendship she had enjoyed with Martin and Angela, and could not even find fault with whatever interest she held for Angela. No, exploring herself had not been what struck me as peculiar.
Losing all sense of self to it, however...
“Perhaps this has been implanted in her from the start,” I mused aloud while pausing at a street corner to light a cigarette. Shutting my eyes, I attempted to quiet my thoughts long enough to feel for her, hitting the same wall of resistance, only with substantially less pain. Yes, it was not the first time she had shut herself off from me. When Sabrina held her hostage, Monica had kept me locked out of our shared link, that time to protect me. For the moment, I returned to that first instance, remembering my wife’s anger at seeing me there to rescue her. She had attempted to warn me against coming for her.
Perhaps she knew she was a ticking time bomb.
‘I think you’re ignoring the obvious,’ Flynn chimed, breaking his silence. The sudden presence of his voice jarred my concentration, forcing my eyes open. ‘Even if that’s true.’
I brought the cigarette to my mouth, pulling from the filter while fighting the urge to clench my jaw at Flynn. ‘I think you are ignoring how furious I am with you,’ I countered. ‘You and I have a long talk ahead of us.’
‘Spare me, you sanctimonious prick. As if I don’t have a reason to be furious with you. I want one thing and one thing only, and for the moment our interests are aligned. Take advantage of it.’
Slowly, I started into a walk, fearing the sight of me standing in place, conducting a conversation in my head would raise some concern with any passersby. As it stood, I ran the risk of being described to the police when somebody stumbled upon the body left by Monica. ‘Fine, then. Since you are apt to belatedly be concerned for Monica’s welfare, what am I ignoring?’
‘I’m choosing to be the bigger person and forget you said that. Just so you know.’ A pause followed, as if Flynn needed to gather his thoughts. I perked an eyebrow and almost spoke again, until he continued. ‘I know how unwelcomed my counsel seems to be with you, but I’ve warned you about Martin and Angela. You acknowledged the point in time when this began, yet are going out of your way to avoid finding fault with them.’
‘More so, I am attempting not to be caught up in the obvious. It started with her first kill.’
‘And you see that as some sort of trigger. Again, that might be right, but Sabrina and Patrick had no way of knowing for sure you’d turn her. Whatever programming she had, assuming she had it, still would have needed a specific catalyst and thus, another person to set it into motion.’
‘Listen, I know that this seems like the ideal moment for you to assert your keen instincts, but I refuse to assassinate the character of two people I have considered to be friends. They are convenient scapegoats. That is what I meant when I referred to getting caught up in the obvious.’
‘Is it, though? Stop getting distracted and face up to the facts we can prove. You left her alone and during that short span of time, she not only lost control, but became incensed. You remember how good the kill used to feel. At any point, did we lack the ability to pull away, even when we chose not to?’
His words convicted me. I winced, recalling our neophyte days and issuing a damning confession. ‘No,’ I said, my steps slowing again until I paused midway down the next block. ‘We could have stopped, regardless of how good it felt.’<
br />
‘We simply chose not to. Think about that when you prepare your lecture for me, Peter. I am only the side of us who is honest about what we want, and what we are willing to do to get it. You are the one still attempting to be the boy scout.’
As I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath, he faded back into silence. Flicking away my cigarette, I brought my hand to my head to ward off the resurgence of my headache. Flynn was correct. A vampire who had managed to be composed up to this point – one who had exceeded even my expectations – had gone from controlled to bloodthirsty and ravenous, with little prompting. That was, if Angela’s testimony could be counted as truthful. And suddenly, I wondered if it was anything but.
No matter how many ways I looked at it, that was the night things had changed.
“Stop getting caught up in his paranoid nonsense,” I warned myself out loud. Yes, the situation begged for further explanation from both Martin and Angela, but I owed them a calm – if pointed – discussion when I returned. Though it would have to wait until after I had spoken with Julian.
As I pressed onward, I envied his ability to hunt us down, hoping by some miracle he would be able to cut through the fog and find Monica. Something about that thought, however, pressured me to chase down its path. How had Julian located us so easily?
When the thought echoed, it hit a resonance, stopping me in place. He had found me in Philadelphia because he knew to look for me and where I might be hiding. Tonight, he had no such target. His senses as a master seer had brought him directly to me and Monica.
And Monica had fostered an interest in magic again over the last few days.
Suddenly, my stomach sank, the full implications not immediately apparent, but enough to provoke me toward fear. From what little I knew and understood about the Order, their decision to send a Master Seer never came lightly and as I struggled with the worst-case scenario, I found myself shattered by the notion of Monica becoming involved with dark magic. ‘No,’ I scolded, though I could not fully dismiss it. Even if nothing about her dalliances had made the hair on my neck stand upright, the potential of Monica being seduced by someone with magic dark enough to bring a seer to Toronto made me want to scream. Even Flynn would not have been so foolish as to allow her that dalliance. Which meant, if she had received any instruction, it had happened away from us.
“But the only people...” I began to say, stopping when the remainder of that thought completed in my mind. The same pair I had I had attempted to give the benefit of the doubt were the only ones she had spent time with outside of our sight. At best, either one – if not both – knew the real reason behind her erratic behavior. At worst, they had conspired to bring it about.
Fury rose to life inside, burning like an inferno. Suddenly, the idea of a pointed conversation felt irrelevant. Turning the direction of Ophelia’s coven, I thought of Julian and broadcast a message as far as I could manage. ‘If you can hear this,’ I said, ‘I am heading back to the coven now. I need you to meet me there.’ The closer I came to it, the more I realized I had little time to find Monica with Angela the only one who could help answer that question. My walk transformed into a run. More thoughts crowded, brought about when the next few, frantic attempts at rousing Monica hit with resistance again. Either Sabrina or Patrick – or a formidable lackey– had been given three days to arrive and prepare their next step. I now lagged woefully behind.
This only made me more upset. Energy pulsed within me, wave after wave of it rolling from my shoulders to the tips of my fingers. When I reached the coven’s proximity, I slowed to a march, noticing Julian walking in my direction and ignoring him even when he took a place by my side. He scrambled to keep pace with me, his loaded crossbow hanging by his side and complimenting bolts tucked away in a quiver strapped to his opposite thigh. “Did you find something?” he asked.
“Yes, I might have,” I said. “We are going to confront a vampire at the coven.”
“Are they housing a dark magician?”
“No.” I shot him a quick glare, not slowing my pace. “Listen, I know it has been a long time and that I am dragging you along with very little information, but time is of the essence. Both for you and for me.”
Julian raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“It means whatever you were sent to find might go up in smoke the same moment my wife does.”
“Yes, I gathered that much.” He hustled alongside of me, though looked nearly winded with the effort. “But I don’t know how much you understand about what I was sent to find, mein Freund. While you’ve been away, Europe has been burning, and a man named Napoleon has been the mastermind behind it all. The Order had reason to believe he might have traveled here recently.”
“Napoleon?” I asked, at first out of genuine ignorance. My steps slowed to a stop until I realized to whom he was referring. We stood only a block away from the coven estate, and as I lifted my eyes, I saw the large residence before us. “I will confront him personally after I question his conspirators.”
“After you question...?” Julian began, but the pace I resumed forced him to abandon the inquiry. He made another effort at it, rephrasing to, “What do you mean, his conspirators?”, but I ignored him. My focus became consumed by malice, sinking deeper into the marrow the closer I came to the front doors. I did not pause to offer any of my coven-mates an explanation for Julian’s presence. He continued inside with me while sparks danced from my fingertips, all the way up to my wrists.
When we came upon Angela, she received no warning for what she was about to face.
I turned a corner to walk into the common area, passing Ophelia as I did. The coven mistress froze, as did all the other vampires gathered, watching with shocked fascination as I headed directly for the blonde-haired immortal. While the sight of a seer by my side garnered enough attention, the surge of photokinetic energy which engulfed my hand caught everyone’s eye, save but for the intended target. I lifted a hand, pointing my palm directly at her.
She turned her head to regard us only a half-second before the burst of light energy impacted her. Producing an unholy wail, she flew into the wall behind her, badly singed and only alive because I knew she would need to be questioned. The way she bounced from the plaster reminded me of a ragdoll, and how she collapsed to the ground left her strewn prostrate on the floor. Her groan fell on deaf ears, given the same apathy I granted her bloodied appearance when I used my telekinetic powers to bring her to her feet again.
“I have some questions,” I said, “And you are going to provide answers.”
The sound of feet scattering filled the background, becoming more cacophonous when I threw her back against the wall again, keeping her upright this time. Ophelia yelled at the others to run and while most of them obeyed, the few who lingered retreated away from my periphery. Suddenly, the coven mistress threw herself at me, yanking at my arm before placing herself between me and Angela.
“Peter, you need to tell me what in the world is happening,” she demanded, holding up both hands to block me.
My jaw clenched. When my eyes shifted to the coven mistress, my rage prevented me from seeing anything other than an obstruction in my once-cherished friend. “Step away from this traitorous bitch immediately, Mistress,” I said, with what little self-restraint I could manage. “Or, so help me, I will remove you forcibly. This quarrel is not yours.”
“It is precisely mine. This is my immortal child.” Tears danced in Ophelia’s eyes and as Julian strode toward her, she flashed fangs at him. “Get away from me, filthy hunter. What did you tell him?”
“Madame Vampire, this is not anything I’ve told him. Do as he asked and get out of the way,” he said.
Ophelia pushed against his attempts to coax her aside. As I saw them fight in my periphery, I lost my patience for waiting, directing my attention back to Angela with my hand turning so that my palm faced upward. Using the same force which had brought Angela to her feet, I began elevating her from the ground.
The panicked noise she made directed Julian and Ophelia’s attention to her. She whimpered, straining under the hold I had placed her in. Sparks lit my fingertips again, my composure cracking under the mounting need to rip Angela apart. I tempered it only out of pure pragmatism. “Where have they taken her?” I asked as I shook with fury. “Where the bloody hell is my wife?”
“I don’t know,” Angela managed. I tightened my hold on her, lifting her further off the floor. As I did, she screamed. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know, Peter.” Her feet kicked, body swaying one way, and then the other while she tried to free herself. The force with which I gripped onto her never wavered, and had it not been for the appearance of Martin, I might have finally made good on burning her into ash. He raced in front of me, however, succeeding finally in pushing Ophelia out of the way.
When my gaze flicked down toward Martin, he held up a hand in surrender, a frantic look in his eyes. “Please, let her go,” he said. “I swear to God, I’ll tell you everything, but don’t hurt her.”
“I have half a mind to rend you in half when I am finished with her,” I said. Frustration surged through me, meeting with a keen sense of hurt as I saw chagrin mixed with the panic in Martin’s eyes. For some reason, the confirmation that both had betrayed us only drove the dagger deeper into my heart. “I trusted you. I befriended you and this is your thanks to me?”
“I know.” Martin frowned. “Peter, I swear, we didn’t have any choice.”
“You did not have any choice?! You could not tell me you intended to stab us both in the back?”
“Look at what happened.” He motioned toward where Angela remained suspended, her feet dangling inches from the ground. His eyes, however, remained set on me. “If you know, it’s because they won. They got her in the end, didn’t they? They were always going to scoop her up. And you weren’t ever going to be able to protect us, seer or not. The lady who threatened us told us you’d be too distracted to see it coming and she was right, Peter. Hate me if you want, but we had our own necks to think about.”