by Sean Stone
“Sounds familiar,” Victor replied.
“What do you mean?”
“It just reminds me of Isabella’s feelings for you,” Victor explained.
“Ah. She soon moved on, though,” he said it more as a question than a statement.
“I’m not so sure,” Victor said, knowing damn well that she hadn’t. He’d never seen anyone harbour unrequited love for so long.
“How is she?” Richie asked.
“I don’t know. I told Dwayne to stay completely dark, that way there’d be no way of anybody finding them,” said Victor.
“Smart move. I still haven’t forgiven you for sending her away, though. She’s valuable to the clan.”
“Invaluable to me,” said Victor. Richie didn’t reply.
They cut through the woods to conceal their approach. They didn’t want Ramsay to see them until they were at the castle they didn’t plan for him to see Victor at all. It had to look like Richie was going to hand himself over. The plan was ambitious even if Lydia wasn’t tricking them. Ramsay was no ordinary vampire; he was old and powerful. Richie wasn’t sure how powerful his magic was, but he was sure that he had some. Victor had experienced some Ramsay’s first hand.
They reached the position where Victor was to hide. He looked around the area to ensure that everybody else was in place. He could see them easily enough and if Ramsay looked hard enough he would too. As long as everything went according to plan then Ramsay would be too distracted to look around.
“Looks like we’re ready,” Richie said and made to leave.
“Richie, wait.” Richie turned back. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I have to, or more of our people will die. We need some leverage before Cain turns up. He’s a hard bastard and he’ll be tough to beat, but he cares about his family and that is the only thing we can exploit,” said Richie. Victor nodded reluctantly and Richie left. The fact that Richie was trusting Victor with his life was testament to the fact that their friendship was on the mend. Now all Victor had to do was prove Richie was right to trust him.
Victor walked over to a large space in-between two trees where the ground was clear. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a twelve-inch stake of dark mahogany with a silver band at the hilt end. The silver was designed to look like a handle, but its true purpose was to make the stake stand out in the darkness. He dropped it on the ground, checked that it was catching adequate moonlight, and then returned to the edge of the woods. He leapt up a nearby tree and watched Richie approach the castle. There was no movement or even any light coming from the castle. The drawbridge was down as was the portcullis. Victor would have assumed that nobody was inside had Ramsay not told him that he would be at the castle.
Richie stopped on the edge of the drawbridge that gave passage over the twenty-foot-high drop that encircled the building. He didn’t cross it. He stayed on their side. He didn’t make a sound, or move an inch, he just stood and waited. Victor’s eyes darted about, searching for an attack from behind, certain that one would come, but none did. Instead, a clunking noise broke the silence as the portcullis started to rise. It rose slowly, its wooden teeth ascending from the stone floor menacingly. It slid away into the wall with a final clunk and then there was silence once more. Most wouldn’t have noticed, but Victor was watching avidly and he saw Richie flinch ever so slightly when Ramsay Aramaya strolled through the gate. Now that Victor was not being attacked by him, he could get a better look at the man. Ramsay was taller than Richie by about a foot and he was covered in lean muscle. His flesh was an incredibly pale off-white colour and his short hair was completely black. His eyes were narrow slits on his face and his nose was long and narrow, with snakelike nostrils. He was not a handsome man.
“Richard Morgan. You’ve come to surrender,” he said, his voice high and harsh, just as Victor remembered it.
“Not exactly,” Richie replied
“No?” Ramsay took a step onto the drawbridge. Richie stayed put.
“I don’t suppose you’re open to negotiations?” Richie asked. Victor couldn’t see his face, but he imagined that Richie was smiling.
Ramsay smiled back and the expression seemed to contort his face like a Picasso painting. “You know that I am not.”
“Yeah, I know,” Richie said, and then he ran. He sped off into the woods leaving Ramsay alone on the drawbridge.
“Really, Richie?” Ramsay said incredulously, before chasing after him.
Victor leapt from tree to tree until he was above the place where he’d left the stake. There he waited. Any second now Richie would arrive.
“Come on Ramsay. You used to run faster than that!” Richie yelled as he came bursting through the trees. He stopped about ten feet from the stake and looked round. Ramsay wasn’t behind him. Victor cursed silently. He knew the plan wouldn’t work.
“Well I guess you don’t want me that badly after all,” Richie said to the trees.
“Oh, I do,” a voice called back and then Ramsay shot out from behind Richie. Victor hadn’t even heard him moving through the woods.
Ramsay kicked Richie’s legs from under him and Richie slammed down on his back. Richie shot back up and Ramsay’s fist connected with his throat sending him back down, sputtering and rasping for air. Ramsay didn’t give him time to recover. He kicked him once in the chest, knocking the wind from him and then once in the head, tearing the flesh and sending him flat on his back again. Ramsay walked over and stomped his foot down on Richie’s face three times until blood was spattering about wildly. Victor wanted to intervene but he couldn’t, he had to adhere to Richie’s plan, even if it was going wrong.
Ramsay stepped away from Richie and laughed. “I knew you had some trick up your sleeve. Richard Morgan always does. But I’d expected better. Centuries apart must have distorted my memories of you.”
Richie rolled onto his front and began dragging himself towards the stake which Victor had placed. It was agonising to watch. He moved with the speed of a slug, dragging the bloody mess of his body toward his goal. Victor could see his wounds healing but not fast enough.
“And where are you going?” Ramsay asked. Then his eyes found the stake, the silver handle glistening in the moonlight. “Oh, I see. Is that for me?”
He strutted over to Richie and stepped down on one of his legs. The bone crunched under his heel and Richie gargled in pain, spitting blood as he did. Victor wondered of the rest of the hidden clan members were finding it as difficult to watch as he was.
“You thought you could lure me out here into the woods like some common fool, and then kill me? I’m insulted.” Ramsay approached the stake.
Victor held his breath and stayed as still as the summer air so Ramsay wouldn’t notice him lurking above. When Ramsay was beneath him he reached out for the wooden box that he’d left in the branches of the tree earlier. Ramsay bent down and reached out for the stake and in that moment, Victor ripped open the box and tipped out its contents. The Egyptian cobra thudded down on the floor next to the stake, hissing wildly as it landed. It whipped its head around and found Ramsay standing before it. Ramsay froze. His eyes were fixed on the cobra and the cobra’s were fixed on him. Richie was right; Ramsay was terrified of the snake — he’d shared that snippet of information when they’d been devising the plan. He seemed unable to move. The cobra slowing began raising up from the ground, its hood extended. Ready to attack.
“Now!” Victor shouted and the clan emerged.
With lightning speed, they darted at Ramsay and two at a time they jammed long wooden spears into his body. He screamed as each one went in. Forgetting about the snake, he flung his arms about wildly and managed to hit a couple of the vampires, knocking them to the ground, but most of his shots missed. More and more spears went into his flesh, each one strategically aimed to avoid the heart — they needed him alive. Ramsay dropped to his knees as one of the spears was thrust straight through his leg. Dark red blood, almost black, was oozing out of his wounds a
nd his pale flesh was losing what little colour it had. Victor grabbed hold of the wooden dagger from inside his jacket and then soared down from his hiding place. He shoved the dagger with barbaric force through the top of Ramsay’s head and the ancient vampire let out a tangled scream before falling face first into the dirt. Victor turned in time to see the cobra shoot through the air toward Ramsay. He quickly plucked it out of the air mid-leap and shoved it back inside the box. He doubted that its bite would do much damage, but he didn’t want to risk it. After all, there must be a reason Ramsay was so scared of it.
“Good work,” Richie said. He was almost fully healed and back on his feet.
“How did you know the snake would scare him?” Victor asked.
“His whole family are terrified of them. They believe that snakes, in particular, the Egyptian cobras, have been sent to punish them for failing to protect Osiris. Silly I know, but if it works…” Richie said and grinned.
“And indeed it does,” Victor replied. “Shall we get him home before he wakes up?” he said and they all moved to retrieve their fallen foe.
*
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I can’t believe I’ve been betrayed by one the people who convinced me to get involved in this in the first place!” Eric shouted as he paced the lounge furiously. Merle had just explained that Connor had come to him for advice and Merle had told him to make the deal with the coven.
“Don’t be so bloody melodramatic, boy,” Merle shot back, looking at him in disgust.
“He’s not being melodramatic he’s right,” Serena told her brother in an uncharacteristically calm voice. “I thought you were on board with this Merle?”
“I changed my mind. I was only involved in this because I want what’s best for the pack. It’s better for the pack that we aren’t fighting witches constantly,” Merle said. He folded his arms across his chest.
“It would be better for the pack if Connor wasn’t alpha,” Eric said. Any thoughts of abandoning his claim to being alpha had been forgotten.
“You think you could do a good job? Connor told me about your advice,” he put special emphasis on the last word. “You told him to openly attack the sorcerers. How many of our pack members would have died because of your stupidity?”
“I was thinking about the bigger picture,” said Eric.
“The bigger picture is the well-being of the pack and if pack members are dead in that picture then you’re looking at the wrong one,” Merle growled.
“What would you know about being alpha,” said Eric, derisively.
“More than you, it seems,” Merle said.
“I was trying to turn the pack against him,” Eric said. He sat down and folded his arms sullenly.
“It wasn’t the most subtle way of doing things, Eric,” Serena said before turning back to her brother. “You should have spoken to us before you spoke to Connor,” she said.
“He asked my advice in the pub. I couldn’t refuse to give it,” Merle said.
“What’s done is done. We just need to draw up a new plan. Turning the pack against Connor will be too difficult now. We need a new strategy,” she said.
Merle stood up. “Count me out. The pack is in a good place. Nobody is trying to boss us around. Nobody is trying to kill us. We’re free and we’re safe. I’m not going to jeopardise that,” he said.
“You can’t leave us,” Serena said, her temper starting to make an appearance.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Connor what you’re up to. But I don’t want to hear anything about it,” Merle said and then left the house.
“What are we going to do now?” Eric said. He got up and poured himself a drink.
“Exactly what we were going to do; draw up a new plan. We don’t need miserable Merle for that,” she said. Eric sniggered at the slight on his uncle and sat back down on the sofa. Serena and Merle were close, but Serena and Eric were closer.
“If we can’t turn the pack against him, and I can’t beat him in single combat, then how can we depose him as alpha?” Eric asked. There was no clear way ahead as far as he could see. Maybe Natalie could think of something, but Eric knew better than to say that to his mother.
“The only option we’ve been left with. We’ll just have to kill him,” she said and Eric nearly dropped his glass.
“Mother!” he said in shock.
“Son?” said Serena, looking exhausted.
“Murdering a pack member is the worst crime, and if that member is the alpha… Do you know what they’d do to me?” Eric said.
“He isn’t the real alpha. You are. He usurped your throne.”
“He won it fairly according to pack law.” The words tasted vile in his mouth but he said them anyway. They were true.
Serena sat down on the arm of the sofa next to Eric. With one hand she began stroking his hair gently. His first instinct was to pull away but the sensation was soothing and he remained as he was.
“My son, when you are alpha again nobody will question you. Even if they suspect you killed Connor they won’t dare to accuse you. Not without concrete evidence. And we’re smart. We’re very smart. We won’t leave any evidence.”
“But they know I hate him,” argued Eric.
“So change their minds. Connor came to you and asked you to put the past behind you. Pretend to do that. Stay at his side. Be his friend. Nobody will suspect you.” She stopped stroking his hair and pulled him gently toward her so his head was resting on her lap. Once there he closed his eyes as she resumed her stroking.
“Don’t worry my son, everything will be as it should be.” And Eric knew she was right.
*
William had been foolish to think that things couldn’t get any worse. His visit to Richie had revealed that an ancient cult of vampires was making their way to town with the sole purpose of eliminating Richie. Every time he thought the problems had hit maximum something came along to prove him wrong. Richie had assured him that he was dealing with the Cult of Osiris and William had no choice but to leave it in his hands. He didn’t have the manpower to do otherwise. The town now had a coven of warlocks and a cult of vampires threatening to wreak absolute mayhem, and if MI5 caught wind of it then they would storm in guns blazing and no doubt make things a million times worse. William couldn’t deal with everything, though, so he chose to focus on the things he could deal with. The Thirteen were his priority and it was likely that he had found an ally in Adam, and therefore the coven.
William arrived at the museum and was shown through to Adam’s office where Adam and Genevieve were waiting. It was odd to see them on the same page after months of arguing, but it wasn’t something he was going to question. He needed them together in order to defeat the Thirteen. He recounted his conversation with Nickolas and then sat waiting for a response.
“What else could one expect from a man like that?” Genevieve said haughtily, her nose pushed up in the air. “One cannot negotiate with a demon, and make no mistake that is what Nickolas Blackwood is.” Some people say that about vampires. And witches are said to be the servants of the devil, William thought.
“We need to get rid of him, but even if the entire coven came together at once we wouldn’t have enough power,” Adam said resignedly.
“Really? He’s just one man,” said William. He didn’t really know how magic worked but he assumed that greater numbers equalled greater power.
“He’s one incredibly powerful man, and he has twelve very powerful followers supporting him. Thirteen warlocks in total, and thirteen is the most powerful number. The number of members his coven has was not some accident, it is his design,” Genevieve said. “Perhaps if it was only him we might stand a chance, but against all of them…” She shook her head.
William stood up and went over to the window. The street outside was deserted, the town was sleeping. This part of it anyway. No doubt over in Ashby, Nickolas Blackwood was awake with his disciples, plotting some new horrific deed to inflict upon the town. William had a duty t
o stop him and yet there was no known way of doing that.
“Adam you’re an expert in this stuff. There has to be a way?” William said, turning back to him.
Adam shrugged with an apologetic look on his face. “I’m not an expert when it comes to the Thirteen. When I was growing up my parents spoke about them as if they were villains in a fairy tale. I never actually thought they were real.”
“Unfortunately, that is the case for most people,” Genevieve said. “To beat them we need power. A lot of power.”
“No,” Adam said firmly, glaring at Genevieve.
“I beg your pardon?” she demanded, rounding on him. When William had arrived he’d thought the two of them had put their difference aside and were working together, but that was clearly not the case. They held the same animosity toward each other as they always had. Rivalries did not die so easily.
“We’re not channelling power from anyone in this coven like you’ve been doing to your daughter. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that. As soon as the Thirteen are dealt with I’ll deal with you,” Adam said threateningly. William wasn’t sure what they were talking about and he was not going to interrupt. It seemed that Genevieve had been stealing power from her daughter, but he could have misunderstood. Either way, it sounded like a coven matter and not a police one.
“You imbecile,” Genevieve said. “Channelling power from the coven would just give us the power that we already have. We need power from elsewhere to add to the coven. And you have no idea what the situation is with Elizabeth so don’t you dare presume to lecture me.”
“Elizabeth explained the situation pretty well when I spoke to her,” Adam replied.
“Then she explained that I bound her powers for her own good?” Adam’s face turned from righteous indignation to wary confusion in the space of a second. “When her powers first came through she accidentally killed her pet cat. A few months later she put her grandmother in the hospital. I tried to teach her control. I tried to help her master them. But as they grew her control diminished. Then one day I came home and found her father dead on the kitchen floor. She was curled up in the corner crying her eyes out. I bound her powers for her own good. I didn’t do it to empower myself, I’m not a monster, I’m not a warlock. So don’t you dare treat me like I am.”