by N M Thorn
Perun Almighty, why are you punishing me by turning me into a glorified babysitter?
He marched through the hallway and pushed the entrance door open, almost running into River. She gasped and hopped back, her hand reaching for her gun holster automatically.
“Damian,” she exhaled with relief as she recognized him. “Sorry. I’m too jumpy lately. Did you find Hawk? Did you talk to him?”
“Yes, I did,” he replied. In a few words, he gave her the gist of the situation. “The Master Warden ordered my brother to remain in Paradise Manor until the situation with the necromancer is resolved. With all the spells and wards the Guardians Mages placed on the left wing of your estate, it’s become an impenetrable magical fortress. Ace and Jamie are going to guard Cole when I’m not around. I hope you don’t mind that.”
“Whoa,” she exhaled. “I guess the situation is a lot worse than we initially thought.”
“You can say that. Cole is undead, and that puts him in more danger than any of us. Any skilled necromancer can control a vampire, turning him into his mindless slave. Cole is an ancient vampire which makes him extremely powerful and dangerous, and if you add on top the fact that he’s the King of the Arizona Court... Well, you get the picture. We can’t allow for this to happen.”
“Of course, Cole can stay here for as long as he wants to,” she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He is with you all the time anyway, and to be honest, I love having both of you around. It’s your home, too, you know. You’re my family.”
Her simple words took his breath away, and for a heartbeat, he couldn’t say anything. Reaching for her hand, Damian took it and brought it up to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles.
“Thank you, River,” he said finally, letting her hand go. “I’ll be home late tonight. Don’t wait for me and don’t worry. I’ll be all right.”
“Do you have your phone?” she asked, giving him an arched stare.
“Yes.” He reached into his pocket and showed her the device.
“Is it charged?”
“Eh...” Damian unlocked the phone, looked at the upper right corner of the screen and scratched the back of his head, a guilty smile playing on his lips. “Thirty percent?”
River sighed and smiled reproachfully. “When it comes to technology, you’re obsolete.”
“What can I tell you,” he started, laughter rising in his chest. “When I was your age, we were—"
“Communicating via smoke signals and drums?” Gypsy chimed in snidely, approaching River and rubbing her furry side against her leg.
“Just go already, caveman, and be careful.” River laughed, waving her hands at him. “The necromancer is not going to find himself.”
“Like owner, like cat.” He chuckled and snapped his fingers, vanishing from Paradise Manor.
Damian materialized in the dark, empty alley behind a vacant building that used to be occupied by a department store before it went out of business. He sped through the empty plaza onto the well-lit main street, following it to The Midnight Shift. Before entering, he quickly scanned the street, but since he didn’t detect anything alarming, he pushed the door open and walked inside.
Despite the hour, the bar was unusually empty. Two small groups of people sat at the tables by the windows, drinking their beers and chatting quietly. Damian sharpened his senses and quickly checked them, verifying that one of the groups was demons and the other was werewolves. He crossed the room and sat down at the bar as he always did.
The Halloween decorations were gone, and when Kaleb showed up behind the counter, he was dressed in his usual black T-shirt with the name of a hard-rock band printed on it and a black leather vest. Glancing at him, Damian smirked—he almost wished he could see this giant werewolf dressed in the cute orange shirt with a black kitty on it again.
“Hey, Damian.” A friendly smile crossed Kaleb’s face as he reached for a bottle of vodka. “The usual?”
Damian nodded, turning slightly to rest his elbow on the counter. Kaleb placed a white napkin in front of him and put a shot glass on top of it, filling it up with vodka. Damian lifted the glass, turning it slightly between his thumb and middle finger, and jerked his chin at the empty seating area.
“Slow today?” he asked as Kaleb leaned forward, propping his elbows on the counter.
“Not surprising.” The werewolf reached under the counter and produced a cigarette case. Pulling one of the cigarettes out, he offered it to Damian.
“Thanks, I don’t smoke.”
“Do you mind if I do?” Damian shook his head no, and Kaleb continued as he lit up his cigarette, “I get all sorts of supernatural clientele here, but most of them are demons, werewolves and vamps. Since vamps are at war with my kind...” He shrugged, taking a drag off of his cigarette.
“What is your pack’s position on this situation?” asked Damian casually. He lifted his glass slightly, observing the bartender over the rim. “Are you with Hawk and his pack?”
Kaleb didn’t reply right away. He exhaled the smoke, blowing it to the side, away from Damian, and waved his hand to dispel it. “Earlier today, Hawk spoke to all local Alphas,” he said, tapping the end of his cigarette into the ashtray. “Something about giving a chance to the new King of the Arizona Court to prove the innocence of his subjects.” He shrugged, staring at his visitors with narrowed eyes. “Something about a Master of the Dark Arts controlling the undead.”
“What do you think personally?” asked Damian. He swallowed the content of the shot glass in one gulp and exhaled, placing the empty glass on top of the napkin.
“What do I think?” Kaleb straightened. “I believe him, but who cares what I think? The question is what other Alphas think.”
“And?”
“Those who have always been supporting Hawk are onboard. Others are not. The usual.” He took another drag and stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray. “It’s bad all around, man. No matter what happens, the new King of the Vampire Court is screwed. Unless he can find this Master of the Dark Arts and kill him, the war is unavoidable as far as I can see.”
Dammit... Damian turned to Kaleb, meeting his dark eyes. “I hope it’s not going to happen.”
Kaleb smirked and cocked his head a little. “And whose side are you on, Damian? I’ve heard rumors among the undead. They call you the Shadow Slayer. Is that what you are? A vampire slayer?” He leaned slightly closer, raising his eyebrows. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your supernatural identity.”
“I stand with Hawk. The werewolves should give a chance to the new King to prove his innocence.” Damian chuckled and flicked his wrist indifferently. “As far as my supernatural identity, you didn’t catch it because I never gave it to you.”
“That’s why this is a sanctuary, handsome.” Damian heard a soft female voice on his left and snapped around. A young woman—a werewolf, judging by her energy signature—sat on a tall barstool with her legs crossed at the knee, a smile as sweet as the scent of her perfume playing on her full lips. “No one will ever demand to know what you truly are.” She turned to Kaleb, offering him a smile just as sugary. “Kaleb, darling, would you please refresh it for our mysterious friend.” She tapped her finger with a long, red nail on the edge of Damian’s shot glass. “And give me whatever his poison is.”
Kaleb pushed away from the counter, looking heavenward, but then put two empty shot glasses on the counter and filled them with vodka.
The woman turned back to Damian, lifting her glass. “Cheers.” She clicked her glass with Damian’s, even though he didn’t lift it, and took a small sip, wrinkling her nose. “So, what’s your name, handsome?”
Kaleb leaned down, resting his forearms on the bar, and whispered into the woman’s ear, but loud enough for Damian to hear, “Mila, leave our mutual friend alone.” He glanced at Damian, a smirk showing off his perfect teeth. “If you didn’t notice, he’s not that into you.”
Damian smirked and picked up the shot glass, but put it down and got up, slowly t
urning toward the exit. A barely noticeable wave of magical energy touched his senses, and he held his breath, recognizing the same energy signature he had detected on the murdered werewolf and around the bite on Ace’s neck. Shivers ran down his spine, making the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Kaleb,” he said urgently, turning toward the bartender, “something is coming. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m positive it’s coming here, and it’s up to no good. You need to get all werewolves out, including yourself.”
“This place is a sanctuary. We’re safe here,” said Mila with a shrug.
Damian glanced at her, frowning. “I don’t think these particular individuals care about observing the laws of the World of Magic, sweetheart.” He nodded to the bartender. “Kaleb, now!”
Kaleb lifted the flip-up countertop and grabbed Mila’s elbow, leading her toward the small backdoor behind the bar. Then he approached the visitors and spoke with them in hushed tones. A few minutes later, the bar was empty, only Kaleb and Damian remaining in the inside.
“Kaleb, you need to go, too,” said Damian, gesturing at the backdoor.
“How do you know this person is after the werewolves?” asked Kaleb.
Damian frowned. “I recognize the energy signature. Kaleb, they’re getting closer. I can feel their dark presence growing stronger. You need to go now.”
“No.” The bartender folded his muscled arms, staring at Damian calmly. “You don’t look like you’re planning to go, and I’m not leaving you alone to face whatever is coming.”
Damn, a werewolf in shining armor... Wrong timing to display chivalry.
Damian was about to object when the door exploded inward, hitting the wall with a loud bang, and the rectangle of light emitted by the streetlights got blocked by three large silhouettes towering in the doorway.
Chapter 10
~ Damian Blake ~
The three men, all of them tall and brawny, walked inside and halted, their eyes glowing with a bright, red light. They completely ignored Damian’s presence, staring only at Kaleb.
Kaleb and Damian exchanged a look, and the werewolf’s mouth twisted in a grim smirk. The air around him shimmered slightly as he partially transformed—a sure sign of purebred werewolves who could transform at any time of the month and could stop their transformation halfway.
“Three vampires walked into the bar,” he growled, throwing a sideways glance at Damian.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Damian snickered, carefully channeling his magic toward his hands. He didn’t want to display his full power, preferring to maintain his supernatural identity a secret if it were possible.
The men hissed and stepped forward, their moves fast and fluid as if they were gliding without touching the floor. Their mouths opened, a thin web of saliva stretching between their unnaturally wide jaws. Their cuspids and lateral incisors elongated, turning into a terrifying set of four sharp fangs. Suddenly, the amount of dark energy they were emitting doubled, and they vanished.
Damian pushed Kaleb behind, shielding him with his body. Opening his other sight, he shouted, “Moderius!”
Even though his spell slowed them down a little, the attackers still moved extremely fast, but now Damian could at least see them clearly enough to follow their steps. At his mental command, his daggers materialized in his hands, and he swung his arms in cross-motion, slicing the chest of the man closest to him. Dark, thick blood gushed out of the wound, filling the air with its nauseating reek. An earsplitting cry of pain—a high-pitched screech that seemed to be unfit for a man of his size—erupted from the man’s malformed mouth, and he hopped back. Staring down at the two deep cuts crossing his chest, a horrifying smirk stretched his lips too wide for human anatomy as the wounds started to close almost immediately.
Damian spun around, his deadly blades reaching the other two attackers. As the monsters staggered away from him, clasping their bleeding wounds with their deformed fingers, he regrouped, pulling back. He knew the injuries he inflicted weren’t deadly, but they were enough to slow them down and give him a moment to speak with Kaleb.
“Kaleb,” he hissed without taking his eyes off the three monsters, “I need you to step behind the counter and close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Do as I say if you want to live,” hissed Damian, speaking fast. “These are not vampires. They’re wurdulaks. You can’t kill them with a sword, or a gun, or your claws. Do as I say—”
As all three wurdulaks leaped into motion again, he cut himself off and channeled his magic, entwining it with his elemental power. Conjuring a protection shield around himself, he stepped forward, allowing the monsters to surround him. They attacked all at once, their claws tearing at his shield, pushing him back with the sheer amount of strength they had in their magically enhanced bodies. He grunted but managed to withhold their attack, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Kaleb took cover.
Since the werewolf was no longer behind him, Damian smirked darkly and extended his hands forward.
“Ventius,” he muttered, and a powerful blast of wind spread all around him, pushing the wurdulaks away.
The walls trembled, and the bottles on the shelves behind the bar counter jingled. Some of them fell off and dropped to the floor, crashing against the tiles with a loud crunching noise. As the expensive liquor turned into splinters of glass and puddles of liquid, the acrid odor of alcohol rose in the air.
The wurdulaks hissed, an earsplitting sound piercing Damian’s heightened hearing. They moved closer, hissing louder, their eyes glowing brighter in the darkness of the room. Feeling slightly disoriented, Damian staggered backward until he hit the counter with his back. As his control of his magic wavered, his daggers vanished, and his shield dropped. One of the monsters reached him and swung his claws, leaving deep bleeding gashes on his upper arm. The pain rushed through Damian’s body, eliciting a torturous groan out of him, but it also sent a burst of adrenalin through his system, clearing his fogged mind.
As all three monsters jumped atop him, sinking their fangs into his flesh, slicing his body with their sharp claws, he dropped to his knees and summoned his daggers again. A terrible fury boiled up in him, fueled by the unbearable pain, and he rose to his feet, surrendering himself to the full power of the Destiny Enforcer. The wings opened up behind his back, throwing the monsters off of him. His entire body lit up with a blinding white light, and two rays of pure magical energy escaped his blades.
He slashed his daggers through the air, and every time their light touched the monsters, a burning wound appeared on their bodies. The wurdulaks screamed and rushed forward, ignoring their injuries. Damian sidestepped one of them and swung his dagger, decapitating the monster. As the wurdulak’s head rolled off his shoulder, hitting the floor with a dull thud, Damian thrust the blade through his heart.
“Illucious,” he hissed, and the wurdulak’s body disintegrated, turning into a pile of ash.
Spinning around, he met the second monster with a powerful punch, and as the wurdulak fell to the floor, he pinned him to the ground with his knee and pierced his heart with the blade, calling to the energy of Creation. Damian didn’t need to look to know that it worked, but as he straightened, he saw the last wurdulak vaulting over the counter.
Kaleb’s low growl and the high-pitched shrill of the wurdulak sounded behind the counter. With a light flap of his wings, Damian rose in the air and landed softly on the countertop just in time to see the fully transformed werewolf embraced in a deadly struggle with the undead monster. Since the wurdulak was on top, Damian seized his neck and yanked him off Kaleb, raising him in the air. With all his strength, he propelled the monster down, smashing the wurdulak’s face and chest against the hard tiles. Before he could recover, Damian forced his blade between his ribs, summoning the light of Creation.
As the last wurdulak turned into ashes, Damian got up to his feet and let go of his magic, his chest rising and falling with laborious breaths. Kale
b transformed back into his human form, his shredded and torn clothes barely concealing his body covered in bleeding lacerations, bite marks and bruises.
Ignoring his state of undress, Kaleb reached under the counter and grabbed his cigarette case. Then he made his way around and lowered down to the floor with a pained groan. He opened the box and pulled out a cigarette, his fingers shaking slightly either from pain or from leftover adrenaline still surging through his body. Patting his hips where his pockets used to be, he threw his hands up.
“Dammit, my lighter is gone,” he muttered, aggravation in his voice.
Damian sat down next to him, leaning his back against the counter. “Ignius,” he whispered, channeling a small amount of magic. As a tiny flame ignited on the tip of his thumb, he moved his hand closer to Kaleb. The werewolf smirked and ignited his cigarette, taking a drag off of it as he leaned back.
“What the fuck was that?” he growled, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. “I’ve never seen a vamp moving or fighting like that.” He pulled his legs up and hissed in pain, turning his hip a little to see four deep bleeding lacerations on his thigh left by the wurdulak’s claws. “Dammit... I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Don’t move,” said Damian with a tired smirk.
He connected with the elemental power of Earth and placed his hand over Kaleb’s forehead, circulating healing energy through him. Kaleb drew in a sharp breath and closed his eyes. A few seconds later, the bleeding stopped, and the cuts and lacerations closed. Damian removed his hand and sat back, exhaustion settling in his shoulders. Being a Child of Earth, the healing energy came with the package. He didn’t have to use magic and spells, but even though it was a part of his nature, healing always took a lot of his strength.
“Thank you,” murmured Kaleb, opening his eyes. “You didn’t have to. Healing magic takes a lot of work, and I’m a werewolf. I heal, you know... Not as fast as vamps, of course, but I would have been back to normal by this time tomorrow.”