"Ana?" Sam places his hands over mine, gently coaxing me to let go of Zac.
"He dares to defy me," I snap, still holding Zac.
"He's a hothead. Zac is just trying to get used to all of this," Sam reasons.
I reluctantly release Zac. "Get out," I tell him.
"Ana, please, I'm sorry!"
"Get out. I don't want to see you back here until you get it through your head that I am in charge. Read the damn journal again. Learn the code, back and forth. When I see you again, you shall recite it to me, verbatim. Am I clear?"
"Yes."
I turn my back to him. I need him to get out of my face before I do something I will regret.
"That was harsh, Ana."
"I do not care, Amanda. He needs to learn that he must follow the rules of the society. Rogue Hunters get themselves killed, or worse."
I catch Amanda's eye, and she looks at me curiously. I take a moment to calm myself. I must be more careful, and learn to curb my anger.
"You should sleep. I will hear the rest of your story tomorrow. Then we shall discuss what to do about the innocents." I emphasize the word.
Jenna and Amanda walk away without another word. Only Sam lingers, watching me intently.
"Ana."
"Not tonight, Sam," I whisper, and leave him.
I decide to halt further patrol until I can speak to Bernard. I can't possibly be there for every scouting, so I need more information before I get my Hunters killed.
On Sunday, I show up at the address Bernard gave me at precisely four o'clock. I'm slightly surprised that he gave me the address to his home, though I'm not sure why.
"Anala. Please, come in."
I raise my eyebrow at the name he uses. Obviously he does not take my objections seriously.
"Ah, right. It is Ana now. I do apologize." Bernard smiles, but there's something off about him.
"Nice place," I mutter. It isn't really, but my parents always taught me to be courteous. The apartment is small and drab. Dark. He has every window covered in heavy, red velvet, and not a drop of sunlight was able to seep through. Books - old, and filled with a language I have since learned - are strewn over a desk. Papers, some stacked, some disheveled, covered red velvet chairs and settee. Seriously, the place was a disaster. The only light came from a small lamp on the overcrowded desk.
"You must excuse the mess," he says with a chuckle. "As I told you, I have been trying to gather information."
I say nothing as I wait for him to clear a spot for me to sit. He empties two chairs, and moves them so they are facing one another a few feet apart.
"Please, sit." He gestures, and I notice a slight tremor in his hand. Yes, something is definitely off with Bernard. "Could I offer you some tea?"
"No, thank you. I cannot stay long."
"Of course. You are here for information?"
He is distracted and fidgeting.
"Yes. First I need to know if the Cursed Ones are contained here in this area."
"I believe so, yes. I cannot imagine they have ventured too far…" his voice trails off.
"Are you feeling okay, Bernard?"
"Yes, yes. I am fine." He laughs again, and it gives me chills.
"Why here?" I ask.
"I'm sorry?"
"Why did they show up here? And, you? Why are you here? Something does not fit about all of this. Why wait until Hunters are found to make an army? You said they should all be contained here, but why wouldn't they build their army wherever they came from?"
"So many questions!" He snorts. "I am going to need a drink! Are you sure you won't have one with me?"
I decline, noting he has not answered any of my questions. "What is it you are not telling me, Bernard?"
"I do not know what…"
"Bernard!"
"Anala, I do what I have to do in order to survive," he says, quickly and I realize then that he looks like someone jonesing for another hit of their drug of choice.
"What does that mean?"
Bernard stands at the bar with his back to me. I think, fleetingly, that it's taking him a long time to pour a drink, but forget about it when he sits back down. He drinks - whiskey from the smell - and watches me. Is he weighing his options?
"I brought them here," he confesses.
"You - what?"
"They agreed to keep me alive if I helped them find what they are looking for."
"They agreed?" I can't believe what I am hearing. I have seen how they have evolved, but so much that they can make deals with humans? "I do not understand, Bernard. How are you communicating with them?"
"They are not as primitive as you may remember, Anala. Especially the one…" he stops as though he was about to reveal too much, and waves his hand through the air. "The point is, we made a deal. I was told to search for Hunters, and I found them. Found you."
I frown. "Cursed Ones wanted you to find Hunters? That makes no sense. We are the only ones that have the abilities to kill them."
"But, you also have the ability to bring out the one they seek," Bernard said matter-of-factly.
"The Cloaked One," I whisper, horrified.
"Yes! You know of him? Do you know him personally?" He sounds so excited. Like a child with a new toy.
"One of the Cursed Ones that I killed spoke about the Cloaked One," I answer.
"I see." Bernard is disappointed with my answer.
"Why, Bernard? Why do they want…the Cloaked One? And, what is your involvement?"
Bernard smiles sardonically, and rises to get another drink. "Dear Anala. It's all about the blood."
"I do not understand." It feels like this is the theme of this entire conversation. I'm completely in the dark, and it's annoying!
"Your father stumbled upon something back then," he says, sitting back in front of me. "I do not know if it was by accident, but his findings were astounding! Youth in a bottle! Everlasting life! A miracle…and extremely profitable."
"You have got to be kidding me." Incredible. Not just his story, but that he's actually sharing it with me voluntarily. "Why are you telling me this, Bernard?"
"Your parents have been gone for centuries, Anala. You no longer have to keep up pretenses."
"Pretenses?" I believe I'm too astounded by Bernard's audacity, as well as intrigued to know where he's going with this, not to hear him out.
"Money, Anala. Judging by your estate, you have needs. I can offer the world if you help me."
I raise my eyebrows. "Why would you need my help? It sounds like you have an army of Cursed Ones at your disposal."
He waves his hands in dismissal. "They are unpredictable, you know that. But, your knowledge and expertise could help me keep them in line!"
"What are you asking of me, Bernard?"
"Blood," he says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "You must have some left if you are still alive. I've been trying to recreate the formula your father came up with." He reaches over to grab a book from the desk, passes it to me. It's papa's. "I've done everything he says there, and it doesn't work. I thought, I must be missing something…"
"Where did you get the blood to experiment with?"
"Hmm? Oh, I needed test subjects, of course. So, I made my own test subjects."
"You...this is your fault? You created more Cursed Ones?"
"You seem surprised." He tilts his head, studying me.
"You told me you didn't know how they returned! You blamed me! I am a Hunter, Bernard! Why do you think it would be acceptable to me that you would create what I was born to kill?"
Again, he dismisses my anger with a wave of his hand. "I know, Anala. I helped him, so it is okay to be straight with me."
"You've confused me again, Bernard."
He regards me closely once more. "You do not know?"
I give him a blank stare, keeping my mouth shut. If I can keep him talking, I may just find out things I've wondered for centuries.
"Well, well," he chuckles. "Your father is not
the saint you wish him to be, my dear girl. He is the reason Cursed Ones existed in the first place."
"That is a lie!"
"Of course he never told you. You thought the world of him." He clicks his tongue. "Good ole Henry Geil, Leader of the Society of Hunters. Maker of the ones Hunters hunt."
"Explain your lies now, Bernard, before I rip you apart," I say, my voice menacing as pain courses through my body.
"Please, Anala," he smiles that wicked smile. "You are a true Hunter. Bound by the laws of the Society. I am human. What you consider an innocent. You cannot harm me."
So, that's why he thinks he can say these things to me. He thinks I cannot harm him.
"Henry was the most sought after medicine man in the land, Anala. Known for his talents, and rumored to be efficient in magic. When the Black Death struck, the king ordered your father to find a cure. I was his apprentice."
Bernard sits back in his chair, and rests his ankle over his knee. It was story time in his mind. I can almost see him going back hundreds of years.
"Henry did not believe there to be a cure, but he tried everything. He put himself in danger, being around those retched souls, trying to cure them." He steeples his fingers at his chin, tapping them in a rhythmic beat. "What he did was create a monster that craved blood and could not die."
"No."
"Ah, yes. Oh, he tried to correct his mistake. Told the king he had failed, but I could not let him squander this opportunity." Bernard leans forward, excitement dancing in his eyes. "Could you imagine the wealth? Instead of doing the bidding of the king, we would live like kings! But, Henry was a stubborn man. You get that from him, you know."
"What did he do?" I ask, ignoring his comment. This is it, I think. This was what the falling out between my father and Bernard was. Papa had promised to tell me one day, but that day never came.
"He warned the king that Cursed Ones would bring as much destruction as the Black Death, perhaps more. Then, he formed the society, hoping to 'right his wrong'. He ruined my chances at living a good and prosperous life…"
"A good life at the expense of the lives of innocent people," I interject, heatedly.
"All good things come at a price, my dear Anala. But, your father just could not let me have that. I tried to tell the king that his armies would be indestructible. He could be immortal! He laughed at me, calling me mad. By that time, the curse had begun to spread, and he saw that none of them could be commanded."
Bernard took my father's book from me, tossing it back on his desk. "I was run out of town because of Henry. When he called upon me to help him, I was shocked to say the least. He truly must have been desperate. Seeing you alive now, I see how desperate he was."
"You know nothing," I scathe.
"Seems to me, I knew more than you about your precious father."
I grip the arms of my chair to keep from lunging at him.
"But, you are right in one aspect," he continues. "I do not know the secret to his formula. The only variable I have not tried that may have been available to him back then is the blood of the Cloaked One. That is what I am looking for, and what the Cursed Ones are hunting for."
"Why did you have me train Hunters, Bernard?"
"The Cloaked One helps Hunters," he answers with a shrug. "It was the only way I knew how to lure him out."
"What made you so sure…he was still alive?"
"I was not sure." He smiles slowly. Creepy. "But, he has been seen now, so it is only a matter of time. I can spare your Hunters lives if you bring him to me."
"I will not help you."
"Stubborn, like your father," he sighs. "Look what happened to him and your mother."
My head snaps up, and I stare at him in disbelief.
"Did you kill my parents, Bernard?" I whisper, feeling sick to my stomach.
"All he needed to do was give me the formula, Anala." He reaches behind him, bringing out a gun and pointing it at me. "I would have given him a cut of the money I could have made. But, he refused to help me. Again. Now, his daughter refuses me. It is a shame that I will have to rid the world of the last Geil."
"One more question before you kill me, Bernard." My patience astonishes me. Perhaps it's because I've spent so many years knowing in my heart of hearts that Bernard was responsible for what happened to my parents. Finally hearing the truth almost brings me peace. Not as much as killing him will.
"Make it quick."
"How did you get the Cursed Ones to kill them, and not you?"
"It's all about how you handle them, Anala. I offered them your parents and my servitude." He cocks the gun.
"Where is the Maker?" I ask quickly.
"You said one question, Anala. Besides I do not know. They refused to tell me for fear it would be used against me. But, I know how to get in touch with them," he scolds, and pulls the trigger.
I feel the bullet drill through my forehead, and I have to bite my tongue not to cry out - I really do detest getting shot. My head slams back with the force, only pissing me off further. I level my head, and stare at a shocked Bernard.
"H-how!" he stammers, struggling to get to his feet. Before he has a chance to react, I have him by the throat, pinning him against the bookshelf as his chair topples below him. "You are a Hunter, Anala! You can't hurt me! You are bound by the code!"
I cock my head to one side. "On one hand, I am a Hunter. Sworn to protect humans, innocents. On the other hand, I am Cursed." I bare my fangs, feel my eyes burn as they change. Bernard pales to a sick, pasty color. What a sight I must be with blood trickling down my face. "Which side should I choose, Bernard?"
"You're not a murderer!"
"You're right. I'm not. But, is it murder, really? I mean, you did shoot me," I say, pointing at my head. "Do you see the blood I've lost? Now, I'm just angry...and hungry."
I sink my teeth into his neck, feeling the rush of live blood. I see mum's and papa's faces as I drink, solidifying for me that I'm doing the right thing. Bernard was a threat - to me, to my Hunters - and he murdered my parents. He is no innocent and I feel no guilt as I tear his throat out.
I drop Bernard's limp body in front of me and kneel beside him.
"Well, I did not enjoy that one bit," I say to his corpse. "You are - were - a very bitter man."
In fact, I feel lightheaded and a bit queasy after feeding off of him. Perhaps his blood did not age as well as he did. I shrug off the feeling and begin checking his pockets for anything of use.
I never thought of myself as a murderer, and yet, here I am, going through a dead man's pockets. A man I killed.
"You brought this on yourself."
I'm not sure if I'm trying to convince myself or what's left of Bernard. Either way, I don't think it's working. I find a phone - looks like a burner phone - in his breast pocket and flip it open. Only one number is listed. It's probably a burner as well, but I keep the phone just in case it can be of use.
I find nothing else of use on Bernard, so I start rummaging through the endless papers on the desk.
"Useless!" I utter. I fling papers and books to the side, irritably, barely registering what they are until I come across a paper with my name. Only then do I actually look at what's in front of me.
Most of it came from my father. Notes, formulas and secret codes all in papa's handwriting that brings me back to a time when I was in his lab, frustrated by all of the tests I had to endure. What I wouldn't give now to endure all of that once again, just to have mum and papa back.
A low sob escapes as I'm unable to hold back angry tears. The last time I was in papa's lab, my parents lie dead in front of me, victims of the likes of me. And of Bernard.
"Ah!" The rage I feel smothers me, making it hard for me to breathe. I don't even think about what I'm doing when I pick up the desk and throw it across the room.
My tirade is interrupted by an eerie crackling sound coming from the direction of Bernard's body. Curiosity wins over and I walk to him. His body begins to change before my eyes
, becoming wrinkled and weathered, then mummified and eventually turning to dust. I'm really not sure if I should be shocked or happy.
"Easy clean up," I whisper to no one. One less thing to worry about. Then again, perhaps I should worry about my total lack of compassion for this man. No. He killed my parents and brought Cursed Ones back into this world. I did everyone a favor by ending his life. Besides, he technically shouldn't have been alive anyway. Neither should you, my conscience sneers.
I discovered nothing of real use at Bernard's pertaining to where the Maker could be, but I do recover most of what was stolen from my parents. I'll have to study Bernard's notes when I get a chance, but he was either lazy or had no idea what he was really doing as they are pretty jumbled.
Dropping everything on my bed, I strip, thankful to finally be out of my bloody clothes. Bernard's blood was beginning to smell putrefied. I toss the soiled clothes into the trashcan in the bathroom and light them on fire. Mesmerized, I watch the dark flame consume them, and what was left of my past.
"Good riddance," I mumble, and step into the steaming shower. Sigh. The hot water feels amazing on my skin, washing away the events of the day. The lightheadedness is better, as is the nausea, thank God, though it lingers. Ugh. Maybe if all blood tasted like Bernard's I wouldn't have such a problem staying away from it.
I can't think about him anymore. I need to concentrate on finding the Maker, and getting rid of these things once and for all. Again. With Bernard out of the way, it'll make that task easier. And, if that's what I have to tell myself to get through this, then so be it.
Okay, so I lied. The nausea isn't better. Either the steam of the shower, or the reality of what I did has gotten to me and I have to sit on the edge of my bed to try and regain my equilibrium. Hell, it took most of my strength just to get dressed without getting sick.
"Come in, Sam." His smell almost makes it better, but not quite. My head is spinning.
"I'll never get used to that," Sam says as he comes in. "Hey, what's wrong?" He is kneeling in front of me in seconds, taking my hands - which, incidentally, were holding my spinning head - in his. "Baby, are you okay?"
Destined to Kill: A Destined Novel (Destined Novels Book 1) Page 16