by Peter Dawes
His tone turned dreamy and solemn. I tensed and even Ophelia shifted in my periphery, both of us bracing ourselves for what Julian was about to say. Slowly, he gathered his thoughts, his first words confirming our suspicions. “I don’t know how any of us survived,” he said. “We entered the coven, and the doors locked behind us. The windows shut. At first there were no vampires and then, there were dozens of them, all dark magicians. People screamed as they were ripped apart and while I killed a few, it didn’t take long for some of us to recognize that we’d be butchered if we continued fighting. We ran for a basement and locked the doors. One of our sorcerers channeled a spell for the entire night, to keep the door reinforced. Even then, we waited for one of them to break through. It has been years since I’ve been so frightened.
“The next morning, we stumbled out of the basement, but we were the only ones. Five of us lived, out of twenty. Some men and women who had served the Supernatural Order for years – decades, even – laid butchered into pieces and when we finally found the Berlin coven, we realized they had been nowhere near the massacre. This is when we discovered they’d been warned. Even so, they could prove easily they hadn’t helped the ones who slaughtered us. None of them knew. Because Munich had been lying to us the whole time.”
“What happened to the coven in Munich?” I asked.
“We eventually caught a few of them,” Julian said. “All told us the same story you heard tonight from the man who betrayed you. They had to cooperate, under threat of death. This is where we first heard the name Napoleon. The mastermind behind it all, they said.”
The way he weighed me suggested that the time had come for my own tale. I nodded, finishing off my cigarette and extinguishing it beside the one which continued burning. Finally relenting to the urge to sit, I made myself as comfortable as I dared allow, adding the gentle reminder that, for now, gathering information was the best thing I could do. Even if I still felt that sense of wasted time slipping away.
“Patrick Flynn is my eldest immortal brother,” I said, deigning to drink more of my replenished beverage, if just to continue to numb my distress. “I did not even know he existed until I was introduced to him in Kilkenny, Ireland. Apparently, he was the mistake our maker created, thus the reasoning behind my old moniker, Flynn. Robin named me to make a point.
“But Patrick himself posed as a coven master. He and my brother, Robin, have been lovers throughout the years and friends, first and foremost, which explains why Robin was blind to Patrick’s other activities. He wanted to see the best of a man he had known since being human. He never thought that introducing us would create the catastrophe that ensued.”
“Where is this Robin now?” Julian asked.
“Italy, last I heard. I owe him a phone call to stop him from flying here to Toronto.” My gaze met with Ophelia’s for a moment before lowering to the contents of my glass. I polished off the remainder of my drink. “I think it would be redundant to ask him here when it has become clear enough I will need to wade into Europe to determine what Patrick and Sabrina have planned with my wife.”
“Is this what your tirade was all about?” Ophelia asked me, prompting my attention to return to her. “Martin aided them in capturing your wife?”
I breathed a bitter chuckle. “Martin and Angela delivered her once to Sabrina’s clutches. I believe the intention was to twist Flynn around so I would follow her.” I set down my empty glass and watched as Julian furrowed his brow at me. Recognizing he had yet to learn of my condition, I sighed and settled against the back of my chair again. “I have another personality,” I explained. “He adopted the name of Flynn and while he cares well enough about my wife, he seems to have his own agenda. What Martin and Angela managed to do was awaken some of my wife’s more sinister magical urges. I do not know how. I lost my taste for interrogation when I saw too much in Martin’s head.”
“You almost killed him,” Ophelia chimed.
“I wanted to kill him,” I said, looking at Ophelia again. “I still want to kill him. I doubt either of them know where Sabrina took Monica and that infuriates me, because this makes them useless to me.”
“Peter.” Ophelia frowned. “Angela is my immortal child. Surely you understand...”
“Angela,” I interrupted, “Lured my wife away and, at the best, incited her to murder. Even if she did not directly hand her over to Sabrina to be tampered with, they have probably been reporting back to my maker our every movement, because this whole mess began with an outing they engineered. I had been warned not to trust them, and I decided to ignore those warnings because those bastards made Monica feel accepted.” Staring pointedly at the coven mistress, I did nothing to hide the pain in my voice. “I have no sympathy for someone who was conspiring with my maker right beneath your nose.”
Ophelia bristled. Julian grunted and, when I looked toward him again, reached forward to extinguish his long-ignored cigarette. “I thought your maker was killed,” he said.
I frowned. “Apparently, she is one of your resurrected antagonists. As was Patrick.”
“It figures.” With a yawn, Julian checked his watch and peered upward at Ophelia once more. “I’ll need to call London for transport of two vampires. We probably won’t be able to leave with them before sunset tomorrow night.” Slowly, he rose to his feet, leaving his glass behind next to the smoldering cigarette. His eyes never left Ophelia. “Do I have permission to stay in your coven?”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Can I refuse?”
He shrugged. “You can. It won’t change the fact that those vampires are coming with me to London. If I’m not able to stay here and they’re freed before tomorrow evening, then it’ll be your responsibility one way or the other.” His gaze turned severe. “Better for both of us that I’m provided lodging here.”
Ophelia tilted her chin. As she opened her mouth to respond, I cleared my throat, the action unnecessary save but to interrupt. “Mistress, I think it wise if you cooperate,” I said. “What I gathered from his story is that the experience in Europe has made him less-than-understanding toward our plight.”
“Always the trick with your lot, Peter,” she said. “I simply never thought you valued them over your immortal brethren.” While I saw the hurt in her eyes – even the undercurrent of betrayal – I remained unmoved by it. My own patience had been worn threadbare, the currents of anger still present; my stomach still churning with uncertainty. As she peered back at Julian, she extended a hand toward me. “Peter will show you to the guest rooms. I leave it to him to locate an available one for you.”
“As you wish,” I said before Julian could respond.
Setting my glass down on the table, I rose to a stand as well and motioned for Julian to follow me. While he did without any reservation, picking up his equipment en route to the door, he still stole a quick glance at Ophelia as we passed. Even I did not honor her with a parting nod. Instead, I lead the way to the stairs, not mindful of anyone who watched us walk past. Whatever opinions the others held of me, I realized in that moment I had shed the masks and revealed my identity to them. The farce of embracing my vampire nature had come to an end.
Julian seemed unaware of whatever I might have been thinking. The currents of energy I still felt my body radiate indicated that I must have elevated my mental walls beyond his perusal. “You should travel with me,” he finally said, breaking the silence once we arrived at the main staircase. “I can take you to London and introduce you to the others who have been working the front lines of this battle. A seer of your ability...”
“My friend,” I interrupted, “I doubt anyone in England or elsewhere in the Order has any desire to engage me. Not only am I singularly motivated, I am the progenitor of this war. Surely you have not forgotten that.”
“No.” He spoke the word softer than the others which followed it. “We were told about the scrolls when the dark magicians first surfaced. I wasn’t upset that you left, though, Peter. Not many of us were.”
�
�You should have been. Even I am disgusted with myself right now.”
“Yes, but you have a wife. It sounds like the two of you were happy. That’s better than most of us in this line of work could ever say.”
The comment caused my steps to pause, the use of the past tense striking another chord intent on reminding me how real this entire situation had become. I would not wake next evening and find her sleeping beside me, it said. I would not ever discover this had been a bad dream. I could not even handle the part echoing why Julian Reichlin himself had come upon us in that alleyway. Not yet.
“What are your plans with Martin and Angela?” I asked, tilting my head to line Julian in my sights.
He shrugged and paused to think, walking with me when I resumed our ascent. “Whatever the elders want to do with them,” he said. “Your coven mistress will be angry when she realizes that they might never return.”
“I think she’s more than aware of it. Thus her reluctance to let them go.” Once we reached the landing to the third floor, I directed him in the area near where I had been sojourning, before being given the room with Monica. Even that notion conspired to undo my already-shaky composure. “I cannot be bothered to summon much remorse for them.”
“No, I understand why.” Our conversation paused until we reached one of the rooms beside the one I had once occupied. Testing the doorknob, when the door swung open in front of us, I motioned toward the interior and followed Julian inside. He paused by the entryway to switch on the lamp.
“Consider it, though,” he said from behind me. I pivoted to face him, lingering near the entrance while he walked past me, setting his things down next to one of the chairs. As he looked over the desk which had been poised in the corner of the room, he searched the drawers for a pen and a piece of paper. Once he located a notepad, he pulled that out and started to write. “I’m giving you my phone number. Even if all you can offer is more information, it would be helpful to us.”
“Julian, I am not certain I have any desire to be helpful in any capacity as far as the Order is concerned,” I countered. When he thrust the note containing his number at me, I took hold of it, though with a stern look on my face. The other man chose to ignore that, stripping his coat and tossing it onto the bed. I sighed, pulling out my wallet and placing the paper inside. “You cannot tell me they would prioritize finding my wife. They were the ones who wanted to separate us in the first place.”
He sighed, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. Both hands settled on his waist. “She is a sorceress. That alone would gain their interest.”
“She is a vampire, Julian, who cannot even remember being a sorceress. They do not give a shit.” I turned to face the exit, intending to leave, but pausing when I felt the goodbye might somehow be lacking. “I wish you no ill, but I prefer to wade into this battle on my own terms. If they had not tried to make me a puppet all those years ago, my feelings on the matter might be different.”
I heard the frown in his voice when he responded. “I have to tell them I saw you,” he said.
“Could you keep this business with Monica to yourself?”
“Maybe. I will try. That’s the best I can promise you.”
Nodding, I consummated my departure, not able to manage more in either the way of apology or recognition of my old friend. While a part of me wanted to say, “It is good to see you again,” I choked on the lie inherent in that statement. It was not good to see him. I did not care for what he represented. And the longer I spent in his presence, with no clear reason for us to be speaking, the more he threatened to shatter my composure. I strode toward the stairs, placing a hand on the banister and considered retiring to my room.
Too much of the night remained, however. And the moment I returned, reality would be waiting.
Taking a deep breath, I continued down the stairs, ignorant again of any looks the others might have been directing toward me. I saw shadows pass in my periphery, but I chose not to engage any of them. Let them see a monster, I thought. Let them look at me and be afraid. At least that meant no one would ask why two members of the coven had been taken prisoner by the Order.
And perhaps nobody would know how it pertained to me.
I clenched my eyes shut as I alighted from the staircase. Opening them again once I had gathered myself, I walked briskly toward the front doors, knowing I had come no closer to figuring out whether Monica might even still be in Toronto, let alone where they would take her next. And yet, I still walked the streets in frustration. I combed as much of the city as possible, confirming that my antagonists were already three steps ahead of me. Robin remained my only source of hope, if he had managed to uncover anything at all. Dawn threatened in the horizon and even then, I wished I could remain outside.
The day would be sleepless. I had already determined that. And it would be spent packing.
I ascended the stairs to my room and maintained my composure until I had the door shut. Once I turned on the lights, a wave of melancholy threatened to drown me, the entire night flashing before me in a blur of images. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air and my own grief twisted at my stomach again, warning that it might consume me. There I stood, in the middle of a room where I had crafted dreams, where I had shared memories upon which we would build a future, one I would have bartered my soul to realize. That I would still barter my soul for, I amended as I strode into the bedroom and filled a suitcase with clothing. Inside the pile, I concealed two daggers and when I retrieved my sword, I found myself staring at it with that familiar sense of dread encroaching on me. It recalled how many times the absurdity of my life demanded I protect the people I loved.
‘We will find her and bring her home,’ Flynn said, his voice containing a form of resolve I had yet to embrace myself.
I tilted my chin upward, still clutching onto the sword and choosing to answer him out loud. “Once we do, I demand you leave her alone,” I said. “Whatever you did to her, you only made her worse.”
‘You continue assuming it’s my fault when you have just as much blame to shoulder. If you were halfway comfortable being a vampire yourself, you could’ve guided her.’
“Like you attempted to do. In such an exemplary fashion.”
‘I accepted the monster inside of her. You only liked it when it suited you.’
“Do not attempt to guilt me.”
‘And don’t tell me what to do, like you’re my master and I, your servant. I won’t take scraps from you any longer. I will determine how and when I cooperate, because you aren’t the only one who cares about her. Play the part of the seer, Peter. Do your duty. And if I don’t like how you’re handling things, I warn you now, I might resolve this my way.’
He fell silent, as if he had a door he could slam shut in my face. My grip on the scabbard tightened and my eyes closed, a flash of anger shooting toward the recalcitrant assassin which he wisely ignored. As I set my sword by the half-packed bag, near the dried bloodstains on the bedclothes, I swore violently under my breath. Trudging to where I kept my bottle of Scotch, I poured myself a glass three fingers full.
With my drink in hand, I reached into my pocket and produced my phone. Dialing Robin’s number, I waited for him to answer before I spoke.
“Book me a ticket to wherever you are,” I said. “I am coming to you instead.”
Chapter Ten
Bells chimed from a nearby church, announcing the start of mass on a crisp Saturday night. Emerging from the taxi cab I had hailed from the airport, I slid my wallet back into my pocket while rising to a stand, righting myself only when I had ducked clear of the vehicle. A brisk wind tousled my hair, and kicked up the ends of the long, wool coat I had brought to cover my weaponry. Currently unarmed, I still felt the weight a mission always imparted upon me. Even if it had been a while since my skills had been demanded in such a world-altering fashion.
The cab driver spoke to me in Italian, leaning over the seat and pointing toward an adjacent building. With my practiced Spanish si
milar enough, I determined what he meant to tell me; this was the hotel I had been looking for, a favorite of the tourists who visited Turin. I nodded, at least to grant recognition of his comments before shutting the door, immediately heading toward the rear to retrieve my luggage. Once I had, I closed the trunk. Heading toward the hotel, I took a deep breath and recited the room number given to me again.
“Five fifteen,” I muttered, strolling through the revolving doors leading into the vestibule. The remainder of my conversation wafted in and out of my thoughts while I bypassed the front desk and walked directly for the elevators. “I was about to get settled in at Turin,” Robin had said, “My only delay was shoring up my affairs to return to Toronto. Perhaps you might meet me there.”
“I can be there before sunrise tomorrow,” I had said in response. “Needless to say, things have taken a turn for the worse.” Frowning at that thought, I pressed the up arrow and waited for the elevator to descend to the main floor. Its gears hummed and doors parted, and once I had stepped inside, I reached for the ‘Close Door’ button, to ensure I remained alone. Slowly, I worked on gathering myself, taking the entire ascent to the fifth floor and walk down the corridor to determine how to explain what had happened. When I reached the room, I had come no closer to solving that riddle than I had during the last twenty-four hours.
With a frown, I knocked and waited for a response. Cushioned footfalls preceded the door swinging open and as Robin studied me from the other side, he mirrored the contemplative expression I felt must have been on my face. “Come in,” he said, stepping aside so that I could enter. “Get comfortable. It isn’t quite a vampire establishment, but we make do with what we’ve got.”
“All things considered, I will take it,” I said. My lips refused to quirk, my normal rapport with him humorless as I brought my belongings toward the bedroom. “Stuck with human accommodations again, though, brother. You’re causing me to question the extent of your resources.”