The Accords Triptych (Book 3): Heartlines

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The Accords Triptych (Book 3): Heartlines Page 18

by Ian Thomas


  XXX

  “Old friend, huh?” Ben asked, as Matteo pocketed his phone. “Promising.”

  “Had to tell her something. Allay fears,” Matteo replied glibly. “Not about to tell her I’m with my treacherous offspring.”

  “See I was hoping for prodigal son.”

  “Of course you were.”

  When McLachlan had told him where Ben was, or at least headed, Matteo needed to act. Even with the vampire attacks threatening the accords and Colton pulling strings from the shadows, Ben was a problem Matteo couldn’t ignore.

  Well, not any longer.

  He was in awe that McLachlan hadn’t gutted Ben at first sight. Hardly something his friend would do but, given Ben’s repeated strikes at or around McLachlan, Matteo wouldn’t have batted an eyelid had he lashed out. Would have spared him the difficult indignity of facing Ben.

  “Ever noticed patterns emerge between sires and their packs?” Ben asked. “Dominic always chose broken, tragic souls who all but rejected their new wolf nature. And you pick traitors. Men who view loyalty as a tradable commodity. Ironic really being that you’re such a family man.”

  “Nothing you can say will worsen the hurt you’ve caused.”

  “Maybe I’m just trying to understand you. Understand myself. Especially since this looks like the end of the line,” Ben said. “For one of us at least.”

  “That a threat?”

  “Not from me,” Ben said, sitting back. “But Colton seems to have a mad hate on for you. Well done by the way. Keeping that quiet. I mean here you are, the most respected werewolf in history, already most favored Pack Lord in five short years, and father to the greatest threat any supernatural community has ever known.”

  “Slight exaggeration, but then I guess he must be quite inspirational for you.”

  “Me?” Ben said, the veneer breaking. “I wanted to be you. I wanted you to reclaim what was ours. To rule. To lead. To be strong. I only ever wanted to be close to your greatness.”

  “Then you never knew me,” Matteo replied. “After five centuries of pain, love, loss, and time numbing me I finally had the family I always wanted. You were a part of that. You were my chosen son. You–”

  “Sixth chosen son,” Ben said. “Quite the honor really. Sixth best to the King.”

  “You were a fresh start. A son chosen carefully. With love. With respect. Honoring you and those before you.”

  “You chose poorly.”

  “No,” Matteo said, a sad smile on his face. “I only ever chose wrong once. And I’ve paid for that ever since.”

  “Give me my due!” Ben roared.

  “And what would that be?” Matteo asked, his voice calm and resigned. “You want me to ground you? Take you over my knee and spank you? Send you to bed without any supper? What’s your due, Ben? Tell me what could I possibly owe you?”

  The other man paused. “Not choose him over me.”

  “Who? McLachlan?” Matteo was silent for a moment. “I may have chosen him but not over you. Never over you. You’re blood. That was never gonna change. And I never wanted it to. But this…your betrayal cut me deeper than anything the Cult could do. Anything that Colton had ever done.”

  “What?!” Ben pleaded, taken aback. “How?”

  “Because soon after siring him, I knew he was a mistake. I expected the betrayal. When it came, it hurt. Man, did it hurt. And I will grieve for your brothers every day I draw breath. But you were not Colton. Not a mistake. Not a twisted creature, Ben.”

  “No.”

  “Is it easier to see yourself as a twisted creature? A mistake? Does that make any of this easier? Did it make hurting Jason easier?”

  “I never–”

  “I get the intention wasn’t there but his life is forever changed now. And you had a hand in that.”

  “Blame and shame,” Ben spat. “What you’re best at, isn’t it?”

  “Oh no doubt I had a hand in this. Not sure when or where other than having a friend, but I’m part of what led us all here.”

  Stymied, Ben glared at Matteo. Anger radiated from the younger wolf. He wished he cared, but Ben had broken his trust to the point where he saw him as no longer connected to him. Sure, he was Ben’s sire, but Ben was no longer family. Much like the indifference he felt toward Colton. He hated the monster he had become but he was indifferent to any familial bond.

  “When this is done,” Matteo said. “If you survive, leave the city. New York is not welcome to you anymore. Try and find the man I once knew you to be. When you do, don’t come back. You won’t be welcome. There won’t be a prodigal son moment as you say. At that time, and as a wolf, you’ll have my protection as Pack Lord, but that’s all you’ll ever get from me.”

  “Then I’d rather die by Colton’s hand.”

  “Then that’s your choice to make,” Matteo said coldly. “Gracchus is expecting you to leave by nightfall. James will return to Blackthorne. That is all.”

  Leaving a part of himself in the room, Matteo turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

  XXXI

  “Are you sure that was Matteo?!” Proctor demanded, breaking her out of her spiraling thoughts.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Why?”

  “Hale says Matteo’s been taken by the vampires. Two others as well.”

  “He sounded weird” Hayley said, casting her mind back to the conversation. “But not like a hostage or anything?”

  “Because you’ve had experience with hostage situations?” Proctor asked with a snarky tone.

  “I get that you’re like super ancient and all but maybe sit down to Thanksgiving with my family and you’ll know a hostage situation when you see one.”

  To her left Six stifled a smile.

  Hayley liked Six. She’d decided he would be a good friend for Jason. Despite looking eighteen as when he was sired, he was only six years a wolf. Hence he liked the name. While he had a handle on being a werewolf, the early struggles were still fresh for him.

  “Then this doesn’t make sense,” Proctor said, suitably chastised.

  “Now you know how I feel,” she threw back, but felt maybe she needed to watch herself a little. Proctor had a gravitas much like Matteo. He wouldn’t suffer much more from her.

  “Hale said the accords have broken. Blackthorne’s rallying wolves as we speak.” But he was unsure, Hayley decided, hearing it in his voice.

  “Get him on the phone. Now.”

  Proctor tapped the screen and waited as the phone rang.

  “Sir?” The voice sounded dubious.

  “Tell us exactly what you know.”

  “Am I on speaker phone? You know I hate that.”

  “Number two, this is Hayley Walsh. You’ve been asked by your commanding officer to report. Do it, soldier.”

  “We believe the vampires have the Pack Lord, Ben, and one of Blackthorne’s wolves. No word or demands yet from Gracchus but, given the scene at the university, permission to treat the court as hostiles.”

  “Believe? You believe they have them? Believe sounds less than solid, corporal.”

  “We don’t have ranks,” Six said behind her.

  “According to McLachlan they went to the court willingly. To avoid Blackthorne and his men. This may be unreliable sir, he is a vamp-sympathizer after all.”

  “Vamp-sympathizer my ass,” Hayley cried. “He’s said this and yet you believe something else, sergeant. One sounds solid, one sounds shaky.”

  “You’re biased,” Proctor said.

  “I’m not biased. I’m listening to someone who has a question in his words that he doesn’t want to acknowledge.”

  “Sir, we’ve recovered Somerset. We’re planning to head to the court now to negotiate for the other wolves.”

  “It’s daylight,” Proctor said uncertain.

  “Time is of the essence.” Even over the phone connection, she could tell Hale was fuming. “Daytime is optimal for a rescue, sir.”

  “I’m calling bullshit,” Hayl
ey said

  “Sir?”

  “Thanks captain,” Hayley said, reaching to hang up the call.

  “Seriously, no ranks,” Five muttered.

  “Sir,” Six spoke up. “Permission to request Ms Walsh transfer into the unit?”

  “Request denied,” Proctor replied, his anger at the insubordination held in check by the effort of piecing the information together.

  Inching slowly through lower Manhattan, the group were silent for a few blocks. When Five made a turn, pointing the car uptown, Hayley broke the tension.

  “I call bullshit.”

  “Me too,” Six said from the seat next to her.

  “I didn’t ask your opinion,” Proctor said firmly, reminding his youngest charge who was back in charge now that they had returned.

  “You can’t be serious?” she asked.

  “Deadly,” Proctor replied, to which Hayley rolled her eyes. Barely lightening up the whole trip, she respected him and his unfathomable age but wow, he had struggled letting her run the show. Possibly worse for him was how Five and Six had enjoyed her leadership. Did it highlight that his was lacking?

  “Two attacks in as many days. Directed at your friends, I’d have thought you’d be more concerned.”

  “How about you not worry what does and doesn’t concern me and think about this clearly,” she argued, her tone sharp. “We just came from the most skeptical group when it comes to the accords. They have a lot to lose from them breaking, and very little to gain. Yet they’re happy. Or at least they will be once Matteo and Gracchus show the right spirit.”

  “Which won’t happen. Not now.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “Because there have been attacks. On civilians. By vampires. Such acts breach the accords.”

  “You’re forgetting this Colton guy,” she said. “He seems like just the right douchebag to be behind all of this.” Merely mentioning his name among the Wiccans had been enough to change the mood of a room.

  “That’s quite a speculation,” Proctor replied.

  “Not really. What proof do you have that Matteo is with the vampires? Involuntarily or of his own volition?”

  When Proctor didn’t answer, she pressed him further. “You’re working on hearsay and speculation yourselves. That’s not having the advantage.”

  “With all due respect, we are War Wolves. We serve to protect the Pack Lord. If there is even the remote possibility he’s in danger, we act.”

  “Charge in and ask questions later?”

  “When it comes to him? Yes.”

  “Great, cool, he is pretty great," she replied. “Way I see it your bigger problem is a bunch of riled up werewolves heading to the vampire court in daylight.”

  In the following silence, a pall fell over the car, the traffic suddenly claustrophobic.

  XXXII

  They were few, McLachlan thought. Too few.

  While Arizona Chase picked the lock, Rowan cast numerous protection spells over them and the sleeping vampires, and Eddie watched their rear for company.

  Better yet, reinforcements.

  Being at the Hotel Guimard during the daylight felt wrong on so many levels. But then Colton’s plan for genocide was the ultimate wrong.

  “If Colton shows, can I not be the one to kill him?” McLachlan said. “Didn’t do such a great job of it last time as it turns out.”

  “Happily,” Rowan said.

  “No problem.”

  “Hell, even I’ll give it a shot.” There were numerous reasons not to let Chase come along. Least of all being this uncharacteristic bravado. But he’d insisted. When had suggested he helped bolster their numbers. To McLachlan that meant body count. On the plus side, he wasn’t wearing a red shirt. But then this wasn’t Star Trek and they were still not closer to getting into the building.

  “Cool, so there’ll be a line?” McLachlan felt better. Ever since Colton’s reappearance had been confirmed, he hadn’t known a moment’s peace. Each death, each injury, each life ruined had stemmed from his failure. Despite assurances that no one could have predicted Colton’s deception, he felt every sufferance directly.

  “Explain this to me,” Chase said, working on the lock. “Vampire court in beautiful old hotel. Residence to well over two hundred vampires and their East Coast home. And they just lock the door? Nuts.”

  “Wow, you don’t deal with vampires much, do you?” Rowan asked. “They have protections. Ones barring other supernaturals. That’s why my magic won’t open it. Neither can Mac, him being tainted and all.”

  “Yeah, cos I would’ve cracked this way quicker dude.”

  “Don’t dude me,” Chase replied, focusing on the lock. “We’re not at that stage yet.”

  “Once we’re in, you can go,” Rowan said.

  “Not gonna happen,” Chase replied. “As acting head of the Eastern Seaboard Chapter House for the Clan – there! Got it!”

  “Good, thanks,” McLachlan said, pushing past him into the building. “Now, go.”

  “As I was saying,” Chase continued, following them into the foyer, Eddie bringing up the rear. “Being the acting head of the Eastern Seaboard Chapter House for the Clan Del–”

  McLachlan buckled to his knees, body in torment. He clutched his head as it burned, moans of pain resonating in the open space of the large foyer.

  “What is it?” Chase asked, trying to support him.

  “St-stain,” McLachlan gasped.

  “He’s reacting to the vampires,” Rowan replied, her magic powerless to ease his suffering. “It’ll pass. Hopefully.”

  Stupidly, McLachlan hadn’t factored in his stain. Well, not to this extent. Being afflicted was always a possibility. But this was different. This was the slumbering hunger of over two hundred vampires. Previous visits had seen them fed. Even on their meagre post-Accords diet, his reaction had been tempered. This, however, was torture.

  And given daytime made him weak, McLachlan worried about those near him…those relying on him. Would he be effective for them? Would be good in a fight? Would he turn on them?

  Once the pain of taking on vamp-face passed, he felt the hunger.

  Hollow, crippling, maddening. His hands almost shook, wanting to grab the nearest body and feed. Chase would be the better option, his mind told him, he was human after all. Wouldn’t fight back. Easy to overcome.

  “Hey!” Rowan slapped him across the face. “You with us?”

  “Barely,” McLachlan managed. Better to let them know he was a possible threat upfront.

  “Do we have a plan?” Chase asked.

  “Fight,” Eddie replied. “Not die.” McLachlan wasn’t enjoying Eddie’s terse demeanor. He’d grown harder, colder, more detached. Was it the attack at the coffee shop or NYU? Was it something bigger? Did he think there was going to be another war? McLachlan didn’t like to think that far ahead. There’d only be a war if they failed now. Eddie had to know that.

  “Way I see it, they’re gonna go for the vampires first and foremost,” McLachlan said, forcing his thoughts into the present.

  “Already cast protection over the rooms. Anyone inside will stay there. Safe.”

  “What about the building shroud?” Eddie asked. “That comes down and those rooms become ovens.”

  “Already on it,” Rowan replied. “They’re secure.”

  “If your magic holds.”

  “Hey, it’ll hold,” Chase said, stepping to McLachlan. He would have been the best to feed off, McLachlan thought, conscious not to lick his lips. His stomach rumbled at the prospect of the hot blood so close for the taking.

  “This isn’t amateur hour here,” Rowan bristled. “You know I how strong I am.”

  “Colton’s stronger.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Rowan replied cryptically. “I’ve already cast protection spells over us four. Colton’s magic can’t affect us.”

  “Thanks,” Eddie said, but McLachlan remained unconvinced. He knew her magic couldn’t stop his stain
from reacting but that wasn’t what worried him. Rowan had been different since Michael’s death. Understandably. He didn’t mean to discount her grief, but her isolation unsettled him. Did she blame him and Matteo for Michael’s death? Where was her head at? Losing Daniel to Colton had been tragic enough, now to lose Michael as well. And there was still her unresolved anger towards Ben.

  When all that was considered, McLachlan had to wonder who was the greater threat to their little group. The options were almost too numerous to consider, he hated to think that threat might come from within. Already they’d faced Ben’s betrayal, Matteo’s retreat, Somerset’s fall, Jason’s corruption, the attack on Dylan…and Michael’s death. Would he lose himself to this hunger? Would he lose…Rowan? The thought almost had him turn away. Screw the accords. They weren’t with shit if the losses continued.

  “You good?” Rowan asked, touching his arm.

  “I brought weapons,” McLachlan said to Chase, swinging a backpack off his shoulder, and unzipping it on the floor. “Silver knuckle dusters courtesy of Matteo. Silver cuffs if you can restrain. Pouches of wolf’s bane. They make handy little grenades. Same with rye.”

  “Whose idea were those?” Eddie asked, taking a step back.

  “Rebecca’s,” McLachlan replied. “Apparently her trip to the Clan proved quite fruitful.”

  “That,” Rowan said, “and also she’s a very smart, resourceful woman.”

  “Figured that went without saying.”

  “Sometimes it’s just polite to.”

  “Noted.”

  “Bleeding hell, is dis your big rescue mission?” a familiar voice called from above.

  “James,” McLachlan said, looking up. The Irishman was atop the stairs to the vampire court proper. Bounding down, he soon joined them in the main lobby. “Where’s Matteo?”

  “He’s…uh, just finishing things wi’ Ben. Didn’t need me third-wheeling it up dere.”

  “Be interesting to see which side Ben fights on,” Rowan said darkly.

  Despite all Ben had done to him, McLachlan was unsettled by the remark. Perhaps more because of who said it. And he wasn’t the only one, catching Chase’s concerned glance.

 

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