The Cult of Osiris: Book 2 in the Cedarstone Chronicles

by Sean Stone

  She decided not to wait about to find out. Katrina had said not to hang about and she didn’t intend to. She stood up and made her way towards the office. Before she reached it she heard a sound behind her. An odd sort of croaking groaning sound. She turned to investigate and nearly screamed at what she saw. Sitting at Jamal’s desk was the oddest looking man she’d ever laid eyes upon. He was a tall man wearing a simple white shirt that draped over his body making it difficult to tell what sort of physique he had. His skin was the weird part, though. It was a pale green colour like mushy peas. Across his throat was a thick scar which made it look as though he’d been beheaded and then put back together. His eyes were thin, slanted and completely black. To put it simply he was unsettling to look at.

  “Who are you?” Clara asked without thinking.

  “An answer,” he said in a raspy voice.

  “To what question?” she said.

  He blinked once, slowly. “The one most prominent in your mind,” he replied.

  “Where’s my dad?” Clara asked. That was the question on her mind right now.

  “That is not the question. Think of the one question you really want an answer to. I can be the answer to that question if you can be the answer to mine,” the man said. His face didn’t move even a little when he spoke.

  Suddenly Clara remembered Katrina telling her not to talk to anyone other than her father. She hoped she hadn’t caused any damage already and quickly turned back to the office. The green man didn’t object or say anything at all as she walked away.

  She swung open the door before anything could stop her and froze. The room was exactly as she remembered it, but instead of William sitting behind the desk looking back at Clara she saw her dad, Arthur Winters. He was exactly as she remembered him, a thin balding man with the remains of what had once been vibrant blonde hair, now all that was left of it was a little round the edges and an island in the middle. He was wearing the brown dinner jacket that he’d been so fond of, it was the jacket he always wore in her head.

  “Sweetie,” he said and smiled fondly at her. She said nothing, instead, she sunk down to her knees in the doorway and cried. He’d only said a single word but it had been enough to break the dam on her emotions, the ones she’d buried with him. Now they were free, gushing out of her like a furious river. She felt Arthur’s arms close around her and pull her in, he was warm, like a small fire radiating her on a cold night. She put her own arms around him and held on tight like she had so many times as a child. She could happily sit that way for eternity and never grow bored of it.

  “Sweetie,” he said again, breaking the silence. “Come on, let’s sit down at the desk, we don’t have long before we have to go back.” She wondered where he would be going back to but chose not ask, some questions were best left unanswered, and besides, she didn’t have time for anything but why she had come.

  He pulled her gently to her feet and then led her to the desk. He sat on William’s side and she sat on the other. She dried her eyes on her sleeve and then looked at her father again. She couldn’t believe she was really seeing him, she thought she’d seen him for the last time outside the research labs, dead and bloody.

  “I need to kill Nick,” she said, at last, they were the first words out of her mouth, the first thing on her mind.

  He nodded slowly. “I understand, but you can’t. He can’t die, Clara and you can’t risk your life trying to take his. Stay away from him,” he spoke softly, but there was a familiar fatherly authority in his eyes.

  “I can’t stay away. He murdered you. He murdered Maggie,” Clara replied, looking down at the table to avoid the warning look she knew he would be giving her.

  “He’s murdered many more than just me and Maggie, and several people have tried killing him before and they’ve all failed.”

  “Then I’ll find a way to lock him up like he was when you found him.”

  “That would take more power than you can ever hope to possess. It took an ancient the first time, it would take at least that again. And he won’t get caught in the same trap twice. He’s a clever man, that’s why I woke him up,” Arthur said and Clara saw a hint of shame in his expression. There was no point arguing with Arthur, he was never going to tell her how to kill Nickolas, and not just because he didn’t know how, but because he didn’t want her in danger. She didn’t need him to tell her anything, though, that wasn’t why she was here, she needed to tell him something and let go of the anger she’d harboured for herself.

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “For what?” he asked, a confused smile on his face.

  “I’m really sorry for being so horrible to you. I know you were only trying to protect me and I threw it all back in your face and you died thinking I hated you and I don’t, I don’t. I’ve never hated you and I’m sorry I was such a bitch to you.” As she spoke fresh tears welled in her eyes and she wiped furiously at them with her sleeve.

  He reached across the table and grabbed hold of her hand, holding it tightly in both of his. “Hey, hey, don’t be so stupid,” he said. “Not for one moment did I ever think you hated me. You had every right to be angry at me, I kept the biggest thing in your life a secret from you. Maybe if I’d been honest with you from the start then things would have turned out differently. But Clara, you need to know that I am so proud of you. So proud. Every now and then I get to look back at the world I left behind. I get to see you and I see you doing good, working for the police, trying to make the town a safer place and I could not be prouder.”

  “Even though I didn’t join the coven?” she asked, surprised that he wasn’t upset about that. Everyone else in the coven seemed to be upset about it.

  “Pah! Fuck the coven. They abandoned us when the curse hit, they fled from town like cowards. You don’t owe that coven a thing. Keep doing the work you’re doing, Sweetie, it’s more important than anything that coven will ever do. It’s because of you that the council finally got beat, not the coven.” His words filled Clara with pride, they were the approval she’d needed to let her know she was doing the right thing, that she’d made the right choice. She hadn’t had much to do with beating the council, none of SIT had all they’d done was stay out of the way.

  “I’m so happy you said that, Dad. All I wanted was to make you and Mum proud.”

  “We’re not the only ones who are proud. Your granddad is too. I’ve seen him since I died. He said you are a fine example of what this family is all about. We saw that you got the company back and we’re glad. You’ve made us proud.” Arthur’s face turned serious and he looked shiftily around the room as if he was worried someone else might be present. “I need to tell you something before we run out of time.”

  Clara glanced up at the clock on the wall and saw that the numbers eleven and twelve were not there. The temporary realm was starting to break down. “What is it?”

  “I know you’ve been looking for the research we were doing. Well not me personally, I’m no scientist, but the research team. There wasn’t much of any use when I was in charge, but I’ve heard that Jonathan’s team created some very interesting things in the lab.”

  “Go on,” Clara said, her heart was absolutely pounding in her chest. She was finally going to get the weapons and if there was something that could hurt Nickolas…

  “Your Granddad had a secret lab built for this research. He protected with magic and technology”

  “Where is it?” Clara asked.

  “I can’t say openly, someone else might be listening, this isn’t exactly a private place,” said Arthur and Clara remembered the green man outside. “Find our family’s story and you’ll find the research.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Clara.

  “You’ll have to figure it out, Sweetie. I think we’re out of time.” Even as he said the words the desk between them was melting like heated chocolate.

  “Dad, no, please tell me how to stop Nick. What’s an ancient? Where can I find one?” She said hurriedly, remember
ing what he said before.

  “You can’t, Clara.” The rest of the room was starting to drip as well. Clara jumped off her chair before it turned to goo on the floor.

  “I have to and you know that I will anyway so please help me,” she pleaded.

  Arthur didn’t speak right away, he looked at her with a pained, pitying expression in his gaze. Then he sighed. “Find Kayla, she’s an ancient and the only one who can stop Nick.” And then he was gone. He just vanished into thin air. There was very little left of the room now. Clara had to get out before who knew what happened. Katrina, she thought as loudly as she could, then she shouted. “Katrina!” nothing happened. Her feet were sinking into the floor which had turned to sludge. Maybe if she went back the way she came. She turned for the door and screamed. Directly behind her was a woman. She looked no older than Clara. She had long dark hair and a stunningly beautiful face.

  “I need you to tell Nick something. Tell him he’s there. There in town” she said and Clara’s heart actually jolted.

  “Who?” Clara asked in confusion. Then everything was gone.

  Clara was back in the shop in the time it took to blink. She never got the girl’s message, not fully anyway. Who was in town?

  “What happened?” Bianca demanded before Clara could even get her bearings. She pulled herself into a sitting position, although she didn’t remember lying down in the first place. She had a light headache and felt nauseous but she knew that would pass in time. Katrina was still sitting opposite her, smiling slightly and looking at the wall, although she probably didn’t know she was looking at the wall.

  “Did you find the answers you wanted?” Katrina asked.

  “Kind of,” Clara replied. “How will I know if it worked?”

  “Close your eyes and clear your mind,” Katrina said. Clara did as she was told, she’d already done it a hundred times under Jamal’s instruction. She never achieved anything then and she doubted she would now. She couldn’t clear her mind, though, every time she tried to an image of something popped into her head. First, it was Jamal looking at her with disappointment. She pushed him aside and then William popped in, his expression neutral as always. Then Arthur arrived and her stomach knotted, she wished there’d been more time in the halfway realm, but there was no point in wishing. After Arthur, she saw the brunette girl who had a message for Nickolas. Next Nick forced his way into her head and she could feel the familiar anger simmering away in her stomach, rising up like pressure in a pipe. There was a smashing sound and Bianca screamed. Clara opened her eyes and saw that the crystal ball on the table was now several pieces of shattered glass, fluid had leaked all over the table, soaking through the cloth.

  “I’d say it worked,” Katrina whispered and gave a sly smile.

  “What happened with your dad, what did he say?” Bianca asked, her face stunned by the broken ball.

  “Not much. He just said what I needed to hear. Who’s Kayla?” Clara asked Katrina, remembering the name her father had given her.

  “Kayla is a very powerful being,” Alistair said as he stepped into the room. “Why do you ask?”

  Clara suddenly had the overwhelming feeling that she shouldn’t tell him anything, that he couldn’t be trusted. His eyes searched her as they had last time they’d met, there was something in them, something malevolent. “No reason,” Clara mumbled.

  “No, no, you asked, I’d like to know why.”

  “It might be best to leave it, Alistair,” Katrina said quietly.

  “I didn’t ask you. I asked Miss Winters,” he said flatly.

  “We should be going,” Clara said standing up and Bianca stood too.

  “Yes, perhaps you should,” he said sourly and to Clara’s surprise, he stepped aside. As she passed him grabbed hold of her forearm. It felt like hundreds of ants were scurrying over her skin. He leaned in close and said, “This is your last freebie Miss Winters. In future, all services here will be paid for.” Then he let go and she hurried out, rubbing her arm as she went. There was no chance that she would be returning without Jamal again. It seemed that Alistair’s nice old man act was over and she didn’t want to see what followed it.

  *

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ramsay had been true to his word, it was the fourth night since Victor’s encounter with him and eight vampires had already been killed, Victor had foolishly assumed that Ramsay only meant to kill one per night, but that had not been the case thus far. The first night only one had been found, the second three and then two on both the third and fourth nights; he seemed to have no pattern. None had been found dead yet tonight, but there was still time. The atmosphere throughout the clan was tense, the vampires were beginning to think that Richie wasn’t capable of dealing with the new threat and their feelings were getting more apparent with each passing night. Over half of the vampires living in Higham, where the manor was situated, had relocated to other areas in town and many of those who lived in the manor itself had moved as well. Victor had tried to convince Richie into doing something to win back their confidence but Richie still wasn’t being particularly friendly towards Victor. When Richie had discovered that Victor had smuggled Isabella out of town he’d taken it as a personal slight, as if Victor, like many others, did not trust Richie to protect her. In truth, Victor did not believe that Richie could protect them and since meeting Ramsay Aramaya he was certain of that fact. Ramsay’s speed and strength had dwarfed Victor’s own. Added to that the ability to command magic and the odds swung heavily in Ramsay’s favour, and he wasn’t the only Aramaya coming to town. Richie said that the Aramaya family turned up one by one as a way of intimidating their prey, each time the next family member arrived the methods of terrorisation would worsen so that by the time Cain finally arrived his target was ready to surrender. Richie had assured Victor that such tactics would not work on him. Victor knew that Richie was afraid, but he also knew that Richie would never surrender, he was without a doubt the most stubborn man that Victor had ever met and it was finally going to be his end. Unless Victor could do something.

  He’d considered trying to strike a bargain with Ramsay before the rest of his relatives arrived, but the only thing they wanted was Richie and Victor would never give him up, no matter how badly Richie treated him. In Victor’s hour of need, Richie had saved his life, not just his but his daughter’s as well. Victor had been a magistrate in his human life and a strict one at that. He’d made sure that a good many men found their way to prison and a good many to the noose as well. He was well respected among the upper and middle classes and well hated among the criminals. One night a convict whom Victor had condemned, broke into his house and attacked him and Isabella, he left them both at death’s door. Richie found them and saved their lives, not only did he save their lives but he made them eternal. Victor had remained at Richie’s side ever since and not even Cain Aramaya and his demon brood would make him abandon his friend. But if they were to stand against the Aramaya family and whatever they brought with them then they needed to be on the same page.

  “Ah, Victor, there you are. I was starting to think you might be plotting behind my back again,” Richie said derisively, as Victor entered his lounge. Richie was sprawled out on the sofa staring up at the ceiling with a glass of dark blood in his hand, a half-empty decanter rested on the coffee table next to him.

  “I see you’ve been gorging on blood again,” Victor said, ignoring the quip about him plotting.

  “Well I’ve got to keep my strength up haven’t I? Especially when my oldest friend doesn’t seem to be on my side anymore,” said Richie.

  “You know that I am on your side, but I have a responsibility to my daughter.” Victor seated himself in one of the chairs and poured himself a glass of blood. He preferred to drink from the vein but didn’t mind a more civilised beverage from time to time. There had been a time when he would have baulked at the idea of consuming a drink other than from a glass.

  “Isabella is more than capable of looking after h
erself,” Richie said and turned his head lazily to look at Victor. “And I need all the muscle I can get round here to fight with me when they arrive.”

  “I’m still here to fight with you.”

  “I have more faith in Isabella,” he slurred and looked away again.

  “And why is that?” Victor asked quietly. As far as he knew he had done nothing to make Richie lose faith in him.

  “Do you really need to ask that question? You really don’t know?” Richie demanded, pulling himself up.

  “I wouldn’t ask otherwise. You clearly have some issue with me. You have been hostile toward me ever since you recovered from your catatonia. I think it’s time to address the issue,” Victor said evenly.

  “Alright then, let’s address it,” replied Richie viciously. “I was locked up for thirty years. For thirty years they experimented on me. For thirty years they tortured me. Every day I told myself it would be over soon. Every day I told myself that you were looking for me. And every day you never came. So I accepted that you weren’t coming. You left me there alone. And for what? So that you could take my place as the high elder and rule the clan. And the worst part is you did a shitty job.”

  “I didn’t… That’s not…” Victor tried to say, but the words wouldn’t form. What Richie was saying wasn’t the case at all.

  “That’s not what happened, no?”