She could sense everything around her and the adrenaline that used to frighten her now excited her. She quickly ran around to the other side of the man, reveling in the control she had over it—and over him. He turned to face her, gripping his gun tightly. He couldn’t hurt her though, no man could any longer. She would never again walk alone in fear at night.
All traces of fear had vanished from her mind. For the first time, she was the wolf instead of the sheep. The realization both enticed and repulsed her. She didn’t know what to make of it, but her instincts took over. The man held up his gun to shoot once more but she was too fast for him, and she jumped onto a nearby branch, shoving him over in the process.
The officer was bleeding where his arm scraped the ground and Anna was acutely aware of it. It was calling to her. The sound of screams and gunfire faded, overpowered by the sound of the man’s heartbeat suddenly thumping in her ears.
The pain in her jaw grew sharp and jagged, begging her to use it for its new purpose. Her teeth shifted, and her body crouched down next to his. She could feel her veins throbbing from the center of her chest where the crescent was. The look on the man’s face was awe and terror. She wondered then how she looked; was she the same as Leon? Was this what he felt? The desire to kill and drink a human being’s blood? Tempting as it was, she couldn’t do it.
“Run,” Anna whispered, and the man obeyed. There was blood left on the rock where his arm had hit, and Anna leaned down to lick what remained, appalled by her actions.
Chapter 42
Leon
Leon waited alone inside what remained of the Klein house. He had gotten Gwen and David out safely. Now he sat peering through the window to the once quiet and tranquil town square. It was a strange sight. There were figures running about through heavy fog from the small bombs. It seemed most of the effects were more in the direction of Dresden, and he could only imagine how bad it was there.
In all his years living in the town, he had never seen it so broken. Actually, in the entire history of his family’s time there, they had never seen it so bad. Anything that plagued Germany could be observed from afar. The men went off to war, they did not fight it at home. There was no way it could’ve stayed that way forever; Leon just hadn’t expected to see it.
He was, however, expecting to have a guest at the house shortly. The ranks of officers ran through the haze—helping or hurting he wasn’t sure. The bombs were a good opportunity to do both, which was probably the answer. Margot knew Anna, Gwen, and he had fled and would surely send someone to find them—specifically, to kill them. Unless of course, one of the blasts got her first, but that sounded too good to be true. Most likely, the man for the job would be her new pet. It was only a matter of time before the two of them were to face each other. She had eluded as much and he doubted she would miss such a dramatic opportunity to let it unfold.
As expected, a figure began to emerge through the haze. Leon yanked open the front door for his guest and settled down at the kitchen table, which had one and a half chairs standing properly. From the table, he could see through the front entrance, despite how lopsided it was. The whole thing seemed a bit ridiculous to him. He was an eighty-something year old man who looked to be seventeen, sitting in the destroyed house of the woman he loved, amid the bombs of war, waiting for a fellow vampire to face him.
Leon had a few minutes, the silhouette was taking his time walking the streets, but he knew it was him even from the distance. He could feel it.
Instead of waiting, he strode over to the stove, which surprisingly still worked. The tea kettle settled nicely despite the lopsided burners. After a few minutes, it whistled as cheerily as it would on a Sunday morning.
There were a few unbroken mugs in the cabinet above the stove and Leon chose one that suited him. He settled back in his chair with his steaming cup and sipped it slowly.
Finally, his guest stood in the doorway.
“Hello.” Leon raised his mug to the open door.
“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you,” the stranger said. “My name is Walter.”
“Thank you for clarifying. I’ve heard bits and pieces.” He took another sip and gestured for Walter to take a seat across from him, where most of a second chair still stood. Walter obliged.
“As have I, you are the lonely gentlemen of the woods, though I am one of the few privileged to know and share your biggest secret. I do not want to hurt you, Leon. You are my brother, and you have already beaten death—you are one of the winners.” Walter inched closer across the table and leaned on his crossed arms, revealing a stake in his hand poking out from behind his left elbow.
To Leon, it was an interesting choice of a weapon. It wasn’t quite deadly but could do some harm.
“We are agents of death, and now we can determine who is worthy to live and who should die. Sacrifices of the unworthy sheep will give us fuel to rule this world and cleanse it for the wolves.”
“No, you don’t understand. I did not choose this.” Leon was tired, he wanted to get this over with and get back to Anna. “Death is what makes life worth living.” He took another sip of his tea and drummed his fingers on the table.
“Ah, I think you are dearly mistaken. You don’t know the whole story. Sure, we are not brothers by blood, but we are blood.” Walter laughed. “My mother was your sister, Sophia.” He smiled as the meaning sunk in.
“But they all—”
“She was pregnant,” Walter paused. “That’s right, you killed your pregnant sister. It was that Jew, the one your father warned her about. Anyway, I forgive you. Margot saved me after you slaughtered them.”
Leon gritted his teeth and without thinking, stood, dropped his cup and smashed his hand hard into the wall. His knuckles cracked loudly against the plaster, sending even more dust about the house. “I saved them!”
“Oh, I know. It’s what you told yourself. It’s okay, I understand. My mother needed to die, she dishonored our family.”
Leon moved swiftly to the side of the table and leaned down to look Walter in the eye. He was still sitting calmly, looking pleased with himself.
“You are not my family. There are no traces of my sister in you.” As he said it, he could see it in the man’s eyes. The same shade of gold that he and his sister shared, her crooked smile, but that was all. Sophia’s life was not there, nor was Adam’s love.
“Believe what you want, but it’s true.”
“That would make you seventy-three.” Leon pursed his lips.
Walter smiled. “Vampire blood does more than just heal, Uncle.”
“And your name?”
“I was orphaned. Margot brought me to a new family—we only reconnected about thirty years ago when she turned me, and then again last year—” He shrugged and waved off that thought. “But anyway, I took on my adopted family’s name. I couldn’t well have that Jewish last name.”
“Adam was a good man.”
“He was a Jew.”
Leon punched his hand into the table, but there was no pain or satisfaction in doing so. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. “Gott, you are so ignorant.”
“Says the one who tried to end his gift.” Walter chuckled. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard. Leon’s fists balled again, and he breathed deeply.
“I think you mean curse, not a gift.”
“I beg to differ. We are wolves preying on sheep; it is only natural. You should be reveling in it like you used to. Come on, we can be a family again. Do it for my mother.”
Family. Leon was repulsed by the idea. He wanted his real family back, alive and healthy. Even if they had lived through their sickness, they would be dead now. His heart ached in his chest. The curse never seemed to end. “You can’t keep doing what you are doing. This must end. All of it.”
“I am sorry I have to do this, but my mistress and I have some business to attend to. We thought we’d give you one last chance.” Walter began fiddling with something in his pocket,
dropping the stake. He pulled out a gun and shot twice before Leon could react. The two men were equally fast, equally matched in ability, but only one was a true killer. The bullets entered Leon’s chest, one piercing his mark of the moon.
“So, you don’t quite know everything, do you, demon?” Leon smiled. “That’s what you are now. Bullets do not kill us, Walter Volk,” he said as the skin in his chest slowly pushed out the bullet, the pain diminishing.
Why didn’t he use the stake?
Leon grabbed the stake from the ground and swiftly drove it into Walter Volk’s heart. “Your mistress wanted this.”
It wasn’t a lie, she wanted them to kill each other, no matter what she may have told Walter. The Mare liked the drama; she was not interested in becoming a happy family.
What he didn’t expect was for his attack with a stake to have the effect it did.
Walter’s eyes bulged, though Leon couldn’t tell if it was the shock of the pain or the words, and his body stiffened before it shattered like glass and settled into a pile of dust.
The sound of Leon’s own heart grew louder in his head and his veins were pulsing unusually. The stake was still clutched between his fingers, and he could feel it splintering into his flesh like thorns. It has thorns, and who knows what else?
This was her plan. I was supposed to grab the stake. Margot….
He looked around furiously and tried to let go of the stake, but whatever supernatural properties had graced it would not allow that to happen.
His vision began to blur, blackness crept up from the periphery, and everything went black.
Chapter 43
Anna
Walter Volk was reduced to a pile of dust on the floor. No one would have noticed his existence, he was part of the debris from the bomb. But Anna knew, in her new body she sensed it.
She stood from her crouching position and scanned the room carefully. It was surprising to see the house still standing, it looked like it would collapse any moment.
On Leon.
He was there. His mark had called to her, the sixth sense, the sense of life and death. He was lying on the floor behind the kitchen table, dried blood on his head from where he hit the table’s corner.
An eerie feeling came over her as she realized her blood was circulating through his veins and was now on the floor.
She crouched down, carefully placing her head on his chest. She could feel his mark and moved his clothes aside to see it. It was different than hers, it no longer pulsed or sprouted new veins. He had moved passed that point a long time ago. Beneath that, Leon still had a heartbeat. He was still alive—at least as alive as a vampire could be.
Chapter 44
Leon
It hurt Leon’s eyes to open them all the way, even though it was dusk. He could feel the pain through each vein as the poison spread through his body. It swam through his blood like a trout swimming upstream; he felt something working its way against his body’s natural rhythm.
He felt hot and ripped his shirt off to let his skin breathe. He sat up with the tiny bit of strength he had and looked around. He was no longer in the house. Beneath him was something much cozier than the floor—and more familiar. He was in his own bedroom, where he had changed Anna.
Anna. She’s here.
But she was nowhere in his vicinity. Her absence caused him to panic but once he tried to move, the pain throughout his body pulled him right back down and made his head whirl. The spots came back through his vision just like the first time—a few scattered dots growing in numbers until everything went black once more.
Chapter 45
Anna
Anna froze. Something was off. Her body brought her back upstairs, to Leon’s room, where he lay peacefully sleeping, but he wasn’t alone.
There was a Nazi officer hovering over the bed, poised with a stake in hand just above Leon’s heart. Her own heartbeat picked up its pace, a new feeling of adrenaline kicking in. It had more punch.
Walter Volk?
Upon hearing Anna enter, the officer looked up and acted swiftly, throwing the stake toward her. It narrowly missed her—her body reacted faster than she could think.
Luna growled angrily beside her and lunged at the intruder, biting just above the elbow. But the officer threw her off and the large dog was paralyzed on the floor by an unknown force. Almost immediately, the arm healed itself and the intruder laughed.
The figure paused, calculating its next move. “He was never supposed to be happy.” It removed the hat and long brown hair cascaded down—Margot.
“You!” Anna yelled. Margot was more than just a Nazi, she was the Mare. “You! You are the one who cursed him.” Anna was shaking, her emotions taking control in a way she had never felt.
“Yes, my dear. Why did you think I took an interest in you? You aren’t special. You were close to him, a lead. He, however, was different, a different breed. He was supposed to take Alric’s place. He had a lot of potential. But he wouldn’t.” Her face twisted as she spoke, beauty returning to its natural grotesque state. Her legs were shrinking, becoming more animalistic as she was losing control in her anger.
“I am the mistress of death, I can appear as I desire. I have been watching him all these years through many eyes, though I could never find the castle. It was going fine; he was suffering. Until you.” The witch’s eyes gleamed with hatred. “And now, he killed my love, again. Leon was meant to die, not Walter. Not yet. So, you see, I cannot let him live. Surely you understand that, dear?” She cocked her head to the side and her flesh moved eerily on its own, like something was trying to get out. Even her clothes tore slowly, unable to frame her changing body. “So, as one of my children, either you leave me be or you die too.”
“I’m not leaving.” Anna rushed to the side of the bed. In the same second, the wretched woman lunged at her with a stake she had hidden beneath her coat.
Anna was pinned to the ground, the stake poised over her heart. A noise came from behind the mare and she was thrown off Anna. Leon’s form fell from the bed. He had been able to rise briefly but the effort drained him. He let out a grunt and fell back, trying to reach out for something Anna couldn’t quite figure out. Any movement he made seemed to pull him back under the spell. She wanted to go to him, but the witch was staggering upwards faster than she should have been able to.
“He killed you, you know, and then cursed you,” Margot cackled, her face swimming and changing even more. Her emotions were loosening her control over her physical appearance.
“What do you mean?” Anna gathered herself and stood to face her.
“That’s right.” She smiled wickedly. “His blood did not heal you even when cut from the rose because of the serum I ran through your veins. He could have let you die, but he was selfish. And now you too are one of my creatures—though, I hardly think you are worthy. You will be feared—hated even. You will be a beautiful little monster, and you will hate yourself for your horrid thoughts and actions.”
The rose, it can harm them. Us.
The black rose sat next to the bed, knocked over in its vase. Anna grabbed it and tore off some thorns in one swipe along the stem. They sat heavy in her palm. They pricked her, but she barely felt it or the blood that began to trickle down. She ran to the witch, but her new speed sent her too far and she knocked Margot over. Anna sat up and with both hands she thrust the thorn into the witch’s chest.
Margot, who now resembled an old hag with gray drooping skin and trace amounts of hair, screamed in agony. Anna held on despite the witch’s attempts to peel her off. She felt the pressure of Leon’s hands over hers and they fought against the force emitting from within the creature. The mark on her chest where the thorns pressed was a full dark circle, dark as a black hole, and its tendrils spread over almost every inch of her body where her clothes exposed the skin. Eventually the force ebbed away, the tentacles diminished, and the witch fell silent.
Something within Anna pushed her forward and she thrust her hand
against Leon’s naked chest. He groaned at her touch, with the adrenaline flowing through her veins she hadn’t realized the thorns had embedded within her own skin.
She tore away her hand and inhaled sharply. What did I do? She looked at her hands, but there were no more thorns, only holes in her flesh where they had burned themselves through her skin like acid.
The thorns had torn out of her flesh and stuck to Leon's mark. He fell backwards against the wall. It began to throb and the black veins that sprouted from it became visible and started to move like ants under a microscope. Seconds later, it bulged and thick black blood oozed out of the mark—the darkness purging itself from his body.
In a panic, she tried to keep it from coming out and spread her own bleeding fingers over the mark, but the liquid seeped through her fingers and onto the floor.
She removed her shaking hands from Leon’s chest and cleared the blood with his shirt. All that was left was a dull shadow of the moon, a permanent stain on his skin. The thorns were missing.
She breathed in deeply and looked around. The remnants of the mare lay still beside Luna. The room was a mess, furniture torn, sheets thrown, and blood of both the red and black variety painted the scene.
Leon grabbed her, and they locked eyes; his were filled with fire. He ripped down the collar of her shirt and his other hand clutched at the base of her neck. She began to feel a heat just beneath the hollow, where her own mark had grown no more than two days prior. The heat strengthened until it felt like fire licking at her skin. She could do nothing but stare at Leon.
The same black fluid poured down Anna’s chest and arms. She could no longer feel the wetness flowing, it had depleted. She could not tear her eyes away from his. She watched him until her body fell beside his.
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