by Ian Thomas
“Yes, him. Damon’s out for blood.”
“Fool!” Rufus grabbed a jacket, shoving his feet into boots. “Where are they?”
“That coffee shop. The wolf’s. We have to hurry.”
“No, you stay here,” Rufus replied. “Find Seth. Just don’t tell Gracchus.”
“I should come–”
“No,” he said abruptly. “I can handle it. Just get Seth.”
“Be careful. He’s wild.”
“No. He’s stupid. McLachlan’s more than capable of finishing Seth.” Jumping out the window, Rufus dropped to the ground behind the builders’ cloths that shrouded the Hotel Guimard. Angry, he started toward downtown, his speed making him a blur to those on the street. An errant gust of wind.
Meaning, when the wolf collided with him, Rufus was stunned.
Ricocheting across the street, he crashed into the front window of a clothing store. Thankfully it was closed. Righting himself, he sped out of the debris and stopped in the street.
“What is this?” he demanded, seeing a partially-turned black wolf and a surly looking guy next to him.
“You vamps killed a friend of mine,” the surly one said, his London accent thick and aggressive. One of Blackthorne’s men. He didn’t know the other wolf, keeping an eye on him as he stalked Rufus quietly.
“You got it wrong,” Rufus protested, taking a step back. “We found Michael.”
“Bullshit. You lot offed him. Now we’re gonna off you.”
“You can’t,” Rufus replied, knowing how stupid the words sounded in this moment. “The accords.”
“Were fucked when you killed Michael. Time to even the score.”
The black wolf lunged, changing in mid-air. Rufus dodged him, hoping his speed gave him the advantage but the Londoner was in his path. Where vampires had speed, werewolves had senses and reflexes that made them deadly. Sensing changes in air, shifting pressuring around them, wolves were quick enough to pluck a vampire out of the air, even at speed.
Partially-changed, he slid his claws into Rufus’ gut.
Gasping, Rufus pushed off the claws and darted away. But the other wolf caught him by the throat. With his other hand he punched Rufus in the face repeatedly. The vampire tried to pry himself from the beast’s grip but it was too strong, his own strength weak from lack of feeding.
“Save same for me,” the Londoner said. Tossed to the other wolf like trash, Rufus landed on his claws. Impaled more like. The talons puncturing deep between his ribs.
Why were they toying with him, Rufus wondered, the pain intense. One claw to his heart would end this and him quickly. They’d have their vengeance. Done and dusted. Literally.
Hanging off one wolf’s claws, Rufus watched helplessly as the black wolf approached. It sniffed him and leaned in close.
“Something ain’t right about ya boy,” he growled.
“Could say the same thing,” Rufus gasped.
As the wolf drew his claws back for the final strike the air temperature suddenly dropped. Breath hanging in the air, Rufus saw the wolf understand the situation.
“Somerset!” a woman called from above. “This is wrong!”
“Bleedin’ siren!” the Londoner cried, chucking Rufus to the ground.
“Dominic never wanted this for you.” He may have been a vampire, but Rufus had never known cold this profound. But then he’d never met a siren before.
Poised and deadly, she stood in the street, purple auras surrounding her hands. The siren’s kiss. Her touch killed men with greater efficiency and pain than either vampire’s fangs or wolf’s claws. But it was the voice they had to worry about the most.
“He lost a part of his soul forging that ring for you,” she said. Her words filled Rufus’ head, stirring desires at odds with his nature and her message. And he wasn’t even the intended target.
Somerset had dropped to his knees, human again, tears streaking his face.
“And this is how you repay him? Destroying everything he fought for? There isn’t a punishment worthy of that crime.”
Even the Londoner was affected, entranced by her beauty and the embrace of her voice. It slipped into the blood like nectar, dancing through every fiber of their bodies, making her the utter focus of their world.
“I–”
“Shh.” Placing a finger over his lips, her touch caused a seizure. A mix of pleasure and pain surged through him, and he came. Rufus could smell it from several feet away. “Think about how you failed him.”
Openly, Somerset wept.
“And you!” Her tone was harsh as she glared at the Londoner. “You were there when they killed him. Watched while Grey tore out his heart. Tore mine out in the process. And you did nothing. A rotten, feral, foulness of a man. Killing you is too much a mercy.”
“Then don’t,” another woman said, appearing between the wolves. A girl really. Young in human and vampire terms. Without another word she grabbed the two wolves and shot off down the street, lost in the night canyons of the city.
“They’ll keep,” the woman said softly. She turned and walked to Rufus, reaching for him. He looked at her hand with suspicion. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
“You’re a–”
“Illyana,” she said with a smile, the temperature settling around them. “Will you heal?”
“Yes.”
“I’d offer you my blood but–”
“No. All good. I’ll–” He’d started to rise but fell to the ground. When she went to help, he pulled back.
“It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you. I can switch it off.” Her touch was cold but no more than his own or Charles’ had been earlier. “You’ll need blood though.”
“I know.”
“Do you have a preference?” she asked. “Male? Female? Black? White? Brown?”
“These are people not dessert toppings,” Rufus replied.
“I can get you anything,” she said. “I know you won’t kill them. Let me. For what they did to you. Please.”
“White,” he said, embarrassed. “Male.”
“My pleasure.” She supported him to the nearby doorway, then crossed the street to a bar. Within minutes she reappeared with a handsome young man, broad-shouldered, mop of blond hair, as apple pie as they came. “This is Danny.”
“Go for it bro.” The young man said.
Self-consciously, Rufus took the man in his arms and nuzzled into his neck. He kissed the warm skin first then sank his fangs into the pliant flesh. The young man gripped him tight, pressing himself against Rufus. He could feel the young man’s arousal as his own swelled in response.
“Thanks Danny,” Illyana said quietly, drawing them apart. She wiped a finger across Rufus’ bloody midsection then patted the bite mark on Danny’s neck. A moment or so later, the bite was healed. “Now forget this and go back to your friends. And no more alcohol. Eat a burger perhaps.”
“Sure,” the young man said, adjusting his crotch. He stole one last look at Rufus then sauntered back across the street.
“Thank you.”
“That was a setup,” Illyana said. “Someone wanted you dead. By wolves’ hands. This is not good.”
“No,” Rufus said, another woman’s face swimming into his memory. “It really isn’t.”
But where did that leave him, he wondered.
XXIII
Finding a bloodied Ben lying on his couch courtesy of James had all the hallmarks of a Dylan move. Brazen, unwelcome, but ultimately right.
When would he catch a break, McLachlan wondered. If he wasn’t being blamed for every crisis then he was sorting out everyone’s problems. This looked like the latter. Not that he had a martyr complex. Or at least he didn’t think he did.
But standing in his own apartment across from Ben, he knew a little how Atlas felt.
Identifying with a condemned titan, nothing self-indulgent about that.
“Did ye forget de beer?” James asked, breaking the silence.
“Little preoccupi
ed,” McLachlan replied.
“How’s dat now?”
“Vampire attack at the coffee shop.” When Ben didn’t react, McLachlan pressed the matter. “Your boy, Colton, seems to have his claws in all the pies.”
“Fuck you, I’m not on his side.”
“Are you so sure about that?” McLachlan asked. “Seems to have a major hate on for anything good in the world. That sound familiar?”
“Again with the fucking delusions. You’re not a good person. You’re the opposite. A cancer.” Ben snapped, finally looking up. His skin blotchy and marked from recent injuries slowly healing. “You are as hellish as they came. You just don’t see it.”
“Lot more chaos in your wake than mine.”
“You so sure about that?” Ben asked.
“Now, lads, don’t think dis is exactly helping here. Figured this’d be a safe harbor, I mean Jaysus, ya actually live in a fooking church. Me ma’d be impressed. She couldna git me to church most Sundays without a bribe of beer. She’d keel over to clap me here volunteer-like.”
“What’re you doing here then?” McLachlan asked.
“We need your help,” Ben said.
“Wow, you must be out of options.”
“We really are,” James said, his look telling Ben to keep his mouth shut. “Will was looking to kill him. An’ dat’s not right. Ya know it, I know it. De bleeding saints know it. Now, given, Benjamin here is not dat nice a person. Plenty ta vouch for dat cause. Yer brother included. But killing him seems a little extreme.”
“Sounds about extreme enough.”
“God, will ya listen to yourself. You’re better than dat, you’re de one who made dees accords. Ye brought peace. Ye ended a fecking war. Dat’s not someone who’s gonna let another man die. No matter how much a gobshite ya man is.”
“Listen, Irish,” Ben said sternly. “I’m gonna give you one more insult and then I’m gonna silver ya.”
“No, you won’t,” McLachlan said, a cold smile on his face. “My house. My rules. Insult away.”
“Think I won’t hurt you?” Ben asked.
“Again, you mean? My back’s healed now, thank you very much.” McLachlan wasn’t sure but he thought he saw a flicker of something in Ben’s eyes. Uncertainty? Regret? No, he decided, the man would need a soul for either of those emotions.
“So you have a massive fan-boy crush on the vessel over here,” Ben said. “Good for you. The accords were the one good thing he’s done.”
“‘Cause ye’re a right paragon of virtue? Real pillar of society? Ya poxy git.”
The room fell silent. But McLachlan still couldn't think. His mind spun furiously, trying to solve every problem barely afforded him a single clear thought. This happened because of that, that caused something else, which meant another bunch of crap happened resulting in this. Chaos had more order than his mind. And then he found Ben on his couch. Aneurisms were caused by less.
Once the adrenaline from the vampire attack had passed, the memory of those monsters in the coffee shop had sickened him. Not there. Not where people were. Not where he got coffee. Not where Rebecca and her friends were. While they’d made it through relatively unscathed, the danger of it was more than he could bear. All he could think was that she’d be better off without him. Out of his life meant she’d be out of danger.
“Talk to me,” Ben said finally, the silence having stretched on uncomfortably.
“What could I possibly have to say to you?” he replied, startled. “All of this is because of you.”
“No,” Ben replied angrily. “This – Colton, the accords, this shit – has nothing to do with me. The Cult?” He paused for effect. “Well that was all you, my friend.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You’re aware I didn’t mean it.”
“Who knows with you,” McLachlan spat. “Villain or hero? Martyr or traitor? I’m getting whiplash trying to keep up.”
“This was a mistake,” Ben said, looking at James. “He’ll never listen to me.” Standing, he regarded McLachlan carefully. “Too wrapped up in your own bullshit to see the harm you cause.”
Ben didn’t see the hit coming. But he took it. “What about Jason? You gonna lay that at my feet as well?”
Ben lunged for McLachlan, shoving against the wall. “Don’t you dare bring him into this.”
That was the nerve to hit. McLachlan almost smiled. For all his rhetoric of being a good man, Ben’s weak spot had been Jason. Was it love? Was it a petty stab at Eddie and Matteo? Or was Jason his to sire? Can’t play Captain Do-Good, McLachlan thought, when you’re planning to do that to someone.
“You did,” McLachlan replied calmly, inches from Ben’s angry face. “Put him right in front of Colton. He wouldn’t have known Jason existed if it weren’t for you.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“What? To take advantage of him? Seems to me you didn’t think about anyone other than yourself. How’s that working out for you?”
“Go to hell!” Ben shouted furiously. Instinctually, James crossed himself and looked up.
“At this stage I’m just getting better seats down there.”
“We didn’t come to pick at old wounds,” James said, forcing the two apart. “Liam says Will wants Ben back. Which means he knows I lied.”
“Or Colton’s gotten to him,” McLachlan added.
“Exactly.”
“Why would he want you?” McLachlan asked, narrowing his eyes at Ben as if he could find the reason on the man.
“Perhaps he needs numbers on his side,” James said. Ben shifted, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.
“Colton’s not that obvious.”
“No. he’s right,” Ben said. “Colton always has something else in mind.”
“Then the vampires’re probably your best bet,” McLachlan said.
“Not sure just showing up is gonna be so simple,” Ben replied, almost sounding like his old self. “Not after the coffee shop.”
“I’ll take you,” McLachlan said.
“You get there’s a risk.”
“For old time’s sake,” McLachlan said coldly. “For the Ben I knew. Before he betrayed me.”
“You don’t see it, do you?” Ben demanded as if the answer was obvious.
“Oh I see it, but you just don’t see me,” McLachlan replied plainly. “Never have. Or you’d know I’d’ve stepped back had you asked.”
Where once Ben had been a friend, an ally, a brother even, now McLachlan didn’t recognize him. He’d hurt too many people McLachlan cared about to forgive him. But he knew that while Ben had struck at him personally, delivering him to the Cult and selling Matteo out in the process, Colton was the true enemy.
“We should go,” James said softly. “Word gets back to Gracchus about de coffee shop, de court’ll be in an uproar.”
“Then us going there won’t help,” Ben said, looking to McLachlan for the lead.
“Better than any other option,” he replied, defeated.
For weeks now, McLachlan had told himself that Ben was the bad guy. But here he was saving the man’s life, being the good guy to someone who painted him as pure evil. So when did he get a break?
Not tonight.
XXIV
All they did was talk, Holly decided, bored and not for the first time since she’d become a vampire. She thought life would be more exciting now. Life? Could she still call it that? Whatever, at least when she was alive she had social media to entertain her. Alive? But wasn’t she still alive? What constituted being alive?
She really should have paid more attention in that philosophy class instead of painting her nails.
Henry had banned her from social media since they met.
Well, posting at least. Didn’t mean she couldn’t still stalk her old friends and exes. Especially since that bitch Sophie had hooked up with Cam. Bitch was gonna bleed when this bullshit was over, Holly had decided. She’d leave Cam to Somerset. Boy needed a new chew toy after all.
&nb
sp; Henry just didn’t get it. He was old. Like really old it seemed. And now he was Colton. Who was frankly not nearly as hot, nor as nice, as Henry. Holly knew they were the same person but she missed Henry. He, at least, included her in things. No, she’d had to sit out the two attacks like a cheer-team reject, and not even for her protection or so he could go down on her or anything.
Bor-ring!
“It should be enough to get the wolves on board,” the London guy was saying. Or at least that’s what she thought he said. Holly would catch every second or third word. Why couldn’t he speak English? He was English after all. D’uh! “Though would have been nice to have at least one body to show for it all.”
“Wasn’t all for nought,” Colton said. “Did manage to flush out the wild card. Always good to know when there’s a siren in the mix.”
“A what?” Holly asked.
“Seems she has a thing for your boy here,” the Londoner said, looking over at Somerset who sat quietly on the couch, head in his hands. Somerset had been quiet since Holly had pulled them off the street. Distant. Troubled. She’d caught the tail end of the woman’s words to the other man, but seeing Somerset on his knees crying had startled her.
His silence, however, was worse.
“His sire was her lover,” Colton said as if those words explained everything. They didn’t and Holly only grew angrier at him. “The question remains was it enough?”
While they pondered the answer, Holly went to Somerset, slipping her hands across his strong shoulders. He shrugged her off.
“What is it?” she asked quietly, kissing a hand that still held his.
Coldly, he looked at her. “Get away from me.”
“The coffee shop looks worse to them,” the Londoner said. “No one’s really gonna know about that vamp in the street. The vessel’ll be quite convincing about what happened.”
“They’re his accords,” Colton said, dismissively. “He’s hardly the one to outrightly admit they’re failing.”
“Doesn’t need to. I can sell that to the other wolves easily enough. He just needs to corroborate the attack and boom! One army of wolves ready, able, and willing.”
“I still need Ben,” Colton said finally.