by Cheree Alsop
“I can’t die,” Conrad replied, his voice thick with self-loathing. “Not with him following every step I make.”
“Who’s him?” Dara asked.
Conrad spoke into the hands he had covering his face. “The Darkest Warlock. Chutka’s last subordinate, if I understood what you told me earlier. He took over my body. He kept me alive.” Tears leaked out from between the man’s fingers when he continued, “Trace thought he killed me. He should have, too. With the lives of all those students on my hands, all those professors, I should have died.” His last words were high and agonizing when he said, “Why didn’t I die?”
His confession shocked me. I looked up to see the same horror reflected by Dara and Vicken. I didn’t know what to say and neither did they. We had lived in the aftermath of Conrad’s actions. The terror he had inflicted on Haunted High had nearly destroyed the school. Even so many years later, the effects of Conrad’s actions showed in the distrust I caught on the faces of professors and students. We were still fighting the demons who escaped when Conrad first opened the door to the realm of Chutka the Shambler. He had hurt so many people with his actions.
Yet, sitting there across the table from him, I knew I looked at a broken man. The sorrow in his eyes didn’t match how I thought a killer should appear. His shoulders shook in soundless agony and the tears that rolled down his cheeks and were lost in his beard were real. I could feel his pain even without Dara’s ability.
As if she read my thoughts, Dara walked over and set a hand on my uncle’s arm. He turned away from her, but she merely moved her hand to his shoulder. She closed her eyes, and I felt her pull. Conrad’s silent sobs slowed. His shaking eased and the tears stopped. But the aching in his eyes didn’t lessen.
“The Darkest Warlock used my body to kill them. I felt him break those children and toss them aside. He used my werewolf abilities to tear through the professors as if they were putty. I couldn’t stop him. I tried. I tried.” His words faded to a whisper. “I should have been stronger.” His green eyes, so like my mother’s, stared unseeing at the wall across from him. “I shouldn’t have meddled with the gate and unlocked things I didn’t understand. I should have been able to stop him. It was my fault. It was all my fault.”
“You were eighteen.” Vicken’s voice broke the silence after Conrad’s words like a stone thrown at a pane of glass.
Conrad turned to look at him as if what the vampire said held some unseen power.
Vicken’s yellow gaze was steady when he continued with, “You were only a year or two older than us.”
“I should have been strong enough,” Conrad repeated in a voice just above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have opened the gate. I-I was tired of being stuck. I was mad that we had to hide what we were from the world.” He looked at me. “I was tired of being a monster.”
His words gripped my heart in a tight fist.
He turned his head back toward Vicken. “I was so angry at the way the world made us feel.”
“You don’t think I’ve been angry?” Vicken replied with steel in his voice. “You don’t think I’ve wondered what it would be like to tear down those walls and expose monsters to the world for what we are? I’m tired of hiding!” Vicken’s voice had risen to a shout. I didn’t know if he was even aware of it. “You don’t think being a vampire, a blood sucker, a thing to be feared and to hide from, a being who consists solely on the blood of others, you don’t think I loathe my existence sometimes?”
Vicken’s chest heaved as he and Conrad stared at each other.
Vicken blinked and his voice was quieter when he said, “You made a mistake, Conrad. You set something free you didn’t understand and couldn’t control.” His voice was back to normal when he continued with, “You were eighteen and a student at a school filled with monsters who distrust and fear each other as much as the humans would fear us if they knew about us. You were angry and you made a mistake.”
“A deadly mistake,” Conrad said.
Vicken nodded but didn’t reply.
I looked from Conrad to the vampire. I saw my friend in a new light. He had always come across as haughty and detached from the rest of the students. After seeing the mansions where he grew up and meeting his father, I thought I knew what it was that made him so distant. But I was wrong. Looking at Vicken now, I saw the anger he kept barely controlled, the fury at the life that had played him a bad hand. And I respected him all the more for the way he kept a level head and for the words he had spoken to the broken man before me, words that had given him back a shred of the humanity that had been lost in his eyes.
“How can I ever make it right?” Conrad asked, his voice a whisper.
“You help Finn save your niece, then you help us stop Chutka the Shambler from ever reaching this world.” Vicken’s gaze held his. “You end what you began and atone for the lives you took by making sure no one else is hurt by your mistake.”
Conrad held still for several long seconds. The only sounds in the room were our breathing and the quiet ticking of a clock hidden behind the mountains of newspapers in one corner.
When Conrad let out his breath, it was with a rush of action. He rose and pointed to Dara. “Put the moonstone in the box.” He glanced at Vicken. “Get the truck ready. Fill it with every newspaper you find in this house and tarp it off.” Then he motioned in my direction. “Follow me.”
I didn’t know what to expect as I trailed my newly found uncle down a flight of stairs into a dark basement. My eyesight was just starting to shift to the grays of the wolf when he flipped on a light. I couldn’t help staring.
Weapons ranging from samurai swords to fifty-caliber machine guns occupied rows upon rows of shelves. Where the upstairs was a grimy, muddled mess, the basement was organized without a speck of dust to be seen.
“You’re going to have to change those clothes,” Uncle Conrad said.
I looked down at the ratty sweats. “Glady,” I replied.
He opened a big black box and pulled out a set of black and gray camouflage pants with a black shirt. “Put those on. There’re boots on that shelf and socks in the box in the corner.” He then threw me a bulletproof vest. “You’re going to need that.”
As I pulled on the gear, I watched him rush around the room with the air of someone very familiar with his belongings. He slipped bullets into a belt, slid clips into loops, attached what I realized with shock were grenades to another vest, and in the meantime handed me knives and clips to attach to my own. By the time I followed him back upstairs carrying additional vests that matched those we wore, I felt deadly to anyone who merely looked at me.
Vicken and Dara must have thought the same thing because they couldn’t stop staring when we walked out of the front door.
“What kind of basement is that?” Vicken asked.
I shook my head. “You don’t want to know.” I thought of his rant and amended, “Well, maybe you do, but you probably shouldn’t.”
I handed him a vest and then helped Dara put hers on. Vicken had managed to stack every newspaper available in the back of the truck. The black tarp he had pulled over it made it look like some giant black beast waiting to pounce in the dark.
“Right,” Uncle Conrad said. “Let’s go.” He set a huge gray nylon bag at his feet, then climbed onto the passenger seat.
At my surprised look, he said, “You’re driving.”
“I don’t know where I’m going,” I protested.
“I’ll tell you,” Vicken replied. “You’re probably the only one here with a driver’s license anyway.”
I looked at the others. Dara and Conrad both shook their heads.
I climbed onto the driver’s seat. “Somehow, I don’t think a driver’s license is going to help us if we get pulled over,” I said with a nod toward my vest.
Conrad grinned. “At least it’ll be interesting.”
Chapter Twelve
“You haven’t been able to rid yourself of the Darkest Warlock all this time?” Dara asked.
Uncle Conrad shook his head. “He followed everywhere I went, and his little minions, too.”
He gestured out the window. I followed his gaze and heard Dara’s breath catch at the sight of long-armed demons running alongside the truck with an ease that belied our speed.
“I locked myself in my house because I feel it’s the safest thing for everyone else. At least if they’re following me, they aren’t hurting others, right?” Conrad finished with an edge of heartache to his voice. “It’s my fault they’re here. At least I can keep them away from others.”
“What about the Darkest Warlock?” Vicken asked. “Do you see him, too?”
“I haven’t for a long time,” Conrad replied. “But I know he’s there. I can feel him. He used some sort of spell to bind us together when I first opened the gate. I’ve read every book I can find on magic, but nothing says how to break a binding like that.”
The heaviness of the weight he carried showed on my uncle’s face. My heart went out to him.
“We’ll find a way,” I promised.
He gave me a small smile. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Finn. Your conscience will be less filled with guilt that way.”
I held his gaze. “We’ll find a way to destroy the Darkest Warlock and end this.” I watched him a moment longer before I turned my attention back to road.
“I want to believe you,” Conrad said finally. “But you’ve been dealing with the aftermath of what I did and I don’t want to bring more down on your head. You guys don’t deserve that.” He sat up straighter. “After this, I’ll return to my house with my demons, both literal and figurative, and you can go on with your lives.” He waited until I looked at him. “That’s the promise I want from you.”
I refused to give it. The tension between us filled the truck until I felt Dara pull it away.
“Breathe,” she said. “The demons aren’t doing either of you any favors right now. The Darkest Warlock has to be secondary in this battle we’re about to fight. Let’s focus on rescuing Amelia. Everything else can come after. Agreed?”
I had to admit she was right. “Agreed.”
“Agreed,” Conrad said sullenly.
Not long after, the sight of the mall loomed into view. I gritted my teeth at the thought of going back inside, but I had no choice. I shoved my nervousness away and cleared my throat. “What’s the plan?”
“Light the newspaper on fire, blow a hole through the doors, and drive on in,” Conrad replied.
Vicken looked at me. “He is definitely your uncle.”
“Dara and I will free the monsters from their cages and chains, and we’ll track down my baby niece. Finn, you and Vicken distract the Maes leaders,” Conrad concluded.
“How are we supposed to distract them?” I asked.
Conrad lifted a shoulder. “Figure it out. It’s your only job and you’re a werewolf. It should be fairly easy.”
“Fine,” I agreed. “But if you see Sir Harbrand anywhere, give him my regards.”
A toothy smile spread across Uncle Conrad’s face. “Will do.” He looked up. “Stop here for a minute.”
I did as I was told and halted us in the middle of the parking lot so that we faced the metal-covered front doors.
Conrad opened his door and climbed out, then unzipped the bag. To my amazement, he pulled out a bazooka.
“You brought a bazooka?” Dara said in shock.
“I’ve been dying to use it since I bought it,” Conrad replied. “Let’s see if it works.”
He stepped away from the car and aimed the bazooka at the front doors.
“Here goes nothing,” I heard him mutter.
He pulled the trigger and the rocket shot out across the parking lot. The explosion when it hit shattered every window I hadn’t already broken. When the smoke cleared, it left us staring at a huge hole in the front of the mall.
Conrad jumped back into the truck.
“Go!” Vicken said.
I shoved my foot down and truck sped forward.
“Dara, light the newspaper,” Conrad instructed.
Dara flicked the lighter she held and threw it into the bed of the truck as we raced for the mall. I watched the paper go up in my rearview mirror.
“Steady,” Conrad urged.
The truck fit easily through the gaping hole. I slammed on the brakes and we slid to a screeching stop inside the main corridor.
“Right, everyone has their assignments. Meet outside as soon as you can,” Conrad instructed.
He came out from the other side of the truck in wolf form. My heart skipped a beat at the sight. My uncle was a huge black and gray wolf with thick fur and huge fangs. I realized that was how I looked when I was a wolf. I had to admit that it was pretty intimidating. Sirens began overhead. Conrad took off toward the escalators with his nose to the ground. Dara grabbed his clothes was about to run after him when I caught her arm.
“You sure you’ll be alright?” I asked.
She nodded quickly. “I’ll be fine. You guys keep up the distraction; we’ll free the monsters and find Amelia.” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “Be safe, Finnley.”
She took off after Conrad without waiting for me to reply.
“Let’s go,” I told Vicken.
We ran toward the escalators.
“Must be nice,” he called over the sirens and the sound of the roaring flames behind us.
“What?” I asked.
He shot two guards who rounded a corner, then nodded in the direction Dara had gone. “Having someone care about you like that. It must be nice.”
Warmth spread through me and I nodded. “It is.”
He gave a confirming nod and fell in at my side.
I glanced over in time to see Uncle Conrad take down one of the guards. Dara then pulled something from the man’s pocket and raced to the closest cage. Putting the key in the lock, Dara shoved the door open. The woman with long white hair and white eyes gave her a hug of gratitude. The two ran to the next cage.
Vicken and I raced up the escalator four steps at a time. Adrenaline pounded in my veins, the gun I carried felt comfortable in my hand, and my best friend was at my side. We were a force to be reckoned with.
It had taken less than a minute for us to break through the doors and race up the stairs. The Maes guards were in the middle of trying to figure out what was happening when we appeared at the top of the escalator. Vicken and I stepped off the stairs firing. In less time than it had taken to reach them, the guards were sprawled unconscious on the floor, the victim of Uncle Conrad’s stun bullets that worked much like Mercer’s in the Mythic Labs.
“More will be coming; we’d better hurry,” Vicken said.
He shoved open the doors to the meeting room and we stormed inside.
“Don’t move,” I shouted.
Vicken swept to the right, keeping his gun trained on the men and women who stood behind the table where they had apparently crowded at the sound of the explosion.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Madam Opal demanded.
“Shut your mouth,” I growled. Her eyes widened when I aimed my gun directly at her.
“Finn, what’s the plan?” Vicken asked.
It seemed like the worst possible time for him to ask, especially considering he always hated my plans anyway. But he was right. We had to do something.
I watched Madam Opal carefully and weighed our options. I could shoot her, I mean really shoot her, and end the threat she posed to the rest of mythic kind. I slid my other gun out of my holster and lifted it.
Madam Opal’s eyes narrowed. “Go ahead,” she said. “I don’t think you have it in you.”
“He does,” Vicken said. His voice didn’t betray how he felt about my decision.
My hand didn’t shake and I knew my aim was true. I only had to pull the trigger. But before I could, my thoughts slid back to a memory that at first seemed random but made sense by the end.
Professor Briggs was a warlo
ck with an ability to smell evil. In order to survive the Wiccan Enforcer, I had been forced to kill Dr. Fagrin and his two assistants.
Their deaths still hung over my head. The next time I sat in a class near Professor Briggs, I had asked him if I stunk of evil. Certain that my actions had sealed my fate, I waited for him to condemn me. Instead, he had replied, “Finn, you are the strongest person I know. You are selfless, kind, and would make the best Alpha a pack of werewolves could ever have.” He had paused, then said, “And no, you don’t stink, even if you are a werewolf.”
Somehow, I knew that shooting Madam Opal, no matter what her crime, would make me stink of evil. I wasn’t a bad person, and if she had chosen to be, I refused to let it change me. I lowered my gun.
“See,” she said with a smirk. “I knew you couldn’t do it.”
A demon stretched from its seat in the corner. I glanced at it. Others lined the walls and casually watched the proceedings. Beneath the table, larger demons laid around as though waiting for something. A group of them were clustered around Madam Opal’s feet. She didn’t even appear to notice that her foot was merely inches from stepping on one. How would she react if she knew about their presence?
I crossed to Vicken with my eyes on Madam Opal’s hands in case she went for her guns. I had seen her in action; the woman could definitely shoot and I didn’t want to feel another bullet if I could help it. When I reached the vampire, I said, “Your fangs can suck blood. Does that mean they can inject it as well?”
Vicken glanced at me. “I’m not sure. I’ve never tried it.” He waved his gun to indicate the room. “This doesn’t seem like the time to ask.”
I held out my arm. “I want you to bite me and inject my blood into Madam Opal.”
Madam Opal’s face paled and Vicken’s mouth fell open.
“What did you say?” he asked.
I shot the woman a humorless smile. “I might not shoot her, but your father told me something that’s stuck with me.”
I watched the homesickness sweep through Vicken’s gaze before he asked, “What did my father say?”
“He said, ‘People who are cruel are also unpredictable because their acts of cruelty come from something deep and twisted inside. Look for the imbalance and use it against them. Fight fear with fear.’”