I wonder if Daffyd considered that in his war against them. Probably not. By no means is he a wise man. Just a drifter fighting on his own path to create his own salvation. A freedom fighter, even.
Nothing we cannot deal with if he tries to challenge us again.
Would he, though? Would any of them? They are in the midst of a war now and have been for a decade. A decade is a long, troubling time to fight. Greater wars than this have been won and lost in far less time. The wolves will not back down, however.
The vampires?
They might, given the right motivation.
“So, what of us, great brother?” Atticus grunts as a reply.
“What of us in this great war? Where do we place? Are we even an afterthought to them? Or is everything we have done – everything we have accomplished – for nothing?”
Atticus, the lucky simpleton, does not consider these thoughts. He merely leads his people. Fighting the good fight to keep them safe. Are they truly safe under a rebel and her muscle?
“What do you mean?”
Atticus was born with a rare deficiency the world had not seen in many, many years. Born a giant. Could you imagine? A mother, not much bigger than myself, birthing the giant that stands before me. A monolith of a man. How interesting it must have been to watch him grow from a baby into the giant he was now. For me, it was never a strange sight. I was, after all, unaccustomed to the way the world was. My parents were raised in their ways. Set as they were to everything being normal. When Atticus was born, we were taken far away, hidden from the world among the mountains. Then, we had no need to hide.
The war gave us this opportunity. One that whichever bloodline that came before shared.
My mother a witch. My father a warlock.
It’s hard to place the source of his heritage, and with them dying at an untimely age, neither had ever found the answer to this.
A pair of twins – so different, but all the same.
“Do you ever consider our future, brother? We started a coven, you know? That means we have to support these people in a way that neither we nor they know or understand. Our power comes from the land. But that’s only because we have known it for so long. They do not know it. We are feeding them more power, sure, but they know their own power. What they were raised on. Do you ever think about what is to come?”
“No.”
A man of few words.
“Then how do you suppose we rule them without considering these things?”
“I stick to our deal. You’re the brains, and I’m the muscle. I’ll keep them safe, but I don’t interfere with the plotting and scheming.”
Sometimes it would be nice if he could or would. I understand why he doesn’t, though. It’s not for everyone, this lifestyle.
“Have we even considered if we’re going to be good or bad?”
“Our power doesn’t dictate evil.”
“Yes, but don’t you sometimes feel it? The want to rob a bank?” I muse.
“No.”
He replies.
“Well, I do. Sometimes, it’s the all-consuming thoughts that run through my head. The rush and power of robbing a bank. How much fun it would be.”
“Well, before the change, you might have had the chance. Now? You’re probably gonna get yourself thrown in the slammer. I hear that’s not a good place to be for a witch. The powers get stripped from you. Then you’re helpless. So, forget about it.”
As if I was serious.
He’s right, though. What would I know about being powerless? We were raised on power. It’s why we had the ability to form the coven in the first place.
Without it, we would be useless. Just another thick-skulled fool and a weak little girl.
“Then I will set my sights for robbing a bank elsewhere. Maybe dance…”
Chapter Twenty-Five: Romulus
“So, you’re going to war tomorrow?” I didn’t even realize that Victor had walked through the door before he spoke. This is not unusual for me in these times. I often find myself lost the night before a battle. Why would this time be any different?
The one thing that’s peculiar about the man that claimed a piece of these lands was his odd sense of style from the day we met. The way he carries himself. He looks as if he just stepped out of the eighteen-hundreds.
Perhaps you can chalk it up to eccentricity and grand delusion, but I feel there’s something more to this man. Something that I don’t quite understand. He’s by no means a regular necromancer. He doesn’t conjure the dead. Hearing stories around the campfires, many have spoken about a witch doctor. But why would a witch doctor have come to visit us now?
And surely there would be more to him than a man that can see a few spells and throw fire magic around?
“Yes. We have had our ups and downs in these last few battles. Now we need to make sure that we take Torrine Castle or else we will lose good men for no foothold in this war.”
“Then the Torrine is not where you should strike. I hadn’t even been in the country a day, and I heard about the attacks on Torrine. Now, if words spread that far already, don’t you think the vampires will know where you’re planning on hitting?”
He’s got a point there.
“Why are you giving me advice on these matters?” Being certain of his intentions is very important in this situation. He could be aiding us, or he could be a spy for Daffyd. The latter, I doubt. He’s not an American. He’s an Englishman. Not that this is for certain, either. His accent may be faked, but something about him tells me that he’s not with them.
At heart, he’s not one of us either.
He’s a drifter trying to find his own way.
Even that may be a lie.
“The vampires have taken something that doesn’t belong to them, and I want it back.”
“And what’s that?” I need to be sure we’re either together or have some similar intentions at heart.
“What you know as the Veil. That piece of soil that was supposed to be my haven. I just lost the plot somewhere in the last few hundred years,” After this comment, Victor says nothing for some time. I piece it together. He’s been gone, somewhere like Mason must have been. The only difference between these two, Mason was only gone for ten. Victor, hundreds. So, putting everything back in order when you have been gone for so long must be some feat. Everyone that may have been part of it all, the ones that were meant to be there providing support, lost to time. Very few survive into a modern era. Even fewer recall their transgressions.
This man is lucky, it seems.
“So, our goals are the same? Or if not the same, similar at least. I want Daffyd, and you want what is yours. Does this mean you will join our war efforts?”
“Sure, why not?” This nonchalant attitude worries me some. I’m not sure if this means that he’s a trustworthy partner in this war or just someone using us to fight his battles for him. Does it matter either way? Do we both not benefit from this resolution?
After all, we’re fighting the same war.
“Then if Torrine Castle is not the place to strike, where is?”
“You’re trying to take on a major stronghold to benefit yourself. This was your first mistake. Daffyd is rallying troops from across the time zones now. He’s got more fire power than you do, and that means that he’s also got hundreds of extra, expendable soldiers to drop wherever he needs them. Torrine will be littered with the strongest. It would be stupid not to have the prime warriors fighting there. The biggest problem with fighting the bigger strongholds is that he will defend them well. That might seem like an obvious thing to say, but it doesn’t seem you find it that obvious. Now, I stress he’s put powerful men in there. Not to deter you. Rather, steer you into the direction of doing this.” He begins fidgeting with his hands. “He thinks you’re coming to Torrine. So, he’s going to have his strongest fighters there. If he’s stupid enough, Daffyd himself will be around to watch you fail. The biggest problem with this for him is that he won’t be able to r
un around to fight but only within the walls. The difference between the first strike the Forsaken took at the start of this war and now? Daffyd won’t want to let this go. So, let him keep it. They won’t be able to move to provide aid to the resting grounds not fifteen kilometers down the road from Torrine. They will hear that their people are being slaughtered, and all they can do for twelve hours is sit around and wait. We go in, kill the weak ones off, destroy the resting grounds, and out. Back here for an early dinner and watching the sunset.”
I think about what he’s said. When I take too long, Victor speaks again.
“Another thing you must remember is that everyone in those tunnels and that castle has been studying that thing since they got word on the strike. You’re going blind into an unknown area. They will keep it dark. They will kill you all without a second thought, and you won’t even see it coming. Start in the sleeping quarters, and from what I hear, it’s a big one, they will have nowhere to go apart from Torrine. For a tactical advantage, you don’t want to let it be destroyed. That doesn’t mean you can’t destroy what’s underneath. Massive networks that run below that link up to the place we strike. Now, we make a cut-off zone midway between the two. Leave that to me. You and your wolves destroy the camp, and then we move in on Torrine another time. There will be no place for all the vampires, and Daffyd will have to shift the load around. They can rebuild, but even that will take some time. Especially if we keep an eye on their underground movements, and with every new step they take, we cut them off at the head. This will be his nightmare until he basically gives it to us. Our advantage? Fighting by day. All their advances tracked and reported back to me. How can we not use this?”
He’s rambling now.
“And tell me, how do you get this information?”
“The dead are a wonderful resource,” he replies. It’s only in that moment and the one that follows, where he takes from his pocket a flask – a big gulp following – that I realize he’s completely hammered. Even so, he had a good plan. One that I had to consider.
Destroying any movements from Torrine would only mean that we successfully cut the vampires off in any expansion. The castle will fall to us, and we will have a strong fortress to keep troops in the midst of the battle.
“Then tomorrow, we strike the vampire sleeping grounds. Go rest now. You will need it if you are to join us in this fight.”
Chapter Twenty-Six: Jack
Going on a date.
Finding a young girl missing.
Having a witch as my partner.
Discovering something dark has happened.
It all just seems too close to home.
This time is different. Madison isn’t ordinary. That’s the reason she was taken away in the first place. Whoever this young girl was, there were no details about her apart from the location of her disappearance. Things change when you become the Director of your own section. You’re not spoon fed the information anymore. You should be the one to find these small details out yourself. Or rather, the team you employ should be working diligently on finding these things out.
The Agency has tirelessly fought crimes against humanity for the last ten years, showing no sign of weakness or distress under any and all situations. Things seem to be taking a different turn of late. The leader of our organization has taken a hands-on approach to the dealings, something that can only mean either he sees something coming or there’s something already hit and he just doesn’t want to tell us what.
“So, what do we know about what’s going on?” Madison asks me. I can’t really answer that question because I don’t really know.
“There’s a girl that’s gone missing.”
“You’ve already told me that.” The smiles from earlier that night are all gone, replaced on both sides by a similar straight-to-business attitude.
“I don’t know what else to tell you. She’s gone.”
“Right.” Madison’s upset. I’m not sure why. She knows as much as I do.
We’re standing outside a door, the same way Vicky and I had been the day we came to gather information on Madison.
“I might need you to feel around.”
“Feel around?”
“Yes, for any supernatural entities that may have been in the area. Have you learned anything like that before?” If she hasn’t, then this could become a little more of an inconvenience than I originally thought.
“We’ve touched on a lot of the basics. I might be able to pick up on something.”
I nod. It’s good enough.
Knocking on the door in these times is always the hardest. The same way Madison must have felt returning home after such a long time, having her dreams of hope and peace replaced only by anguish. That dread is what I feel here at the door, waiting for whomever to open the door.
I felt it the first night I took on the true responsibilities of an agent. I felt it years after as I came to deliver the news of an agent who was killed in the line of duty and now, again, I feel it while I stand at the door, Madison at my side with nothing more than my heart on my sleeve as a means to express my sympathy.
“Hello.” An old man opens the door. His eyes show the signs of the tears that stain his cheeks. His white hair is in a mess.
“Excuse me, sir. My name is Jack. I was sent here as an agent from the Agency of Supernatural–”
“Yes, yes. Good, come in.” The man doesn’t let me finish. He’s not rude in his way of gesturing us in quickly. It’s more as though he feels whatever’s out there could be coming for him next. I don’t know if I can blame him, especially with the way things have gone lately.
“Are you the child’s father?”
“Heavens no,” the man replies. “I’m her grandfather. Roger. Nice to meet you.” He smiles. An empty smile. One that holds true deception. I could tell from the moment I met him that Roger was a military man. The way he carries himself. The power his presence brings. This is why he will not crack. Not under any weight.
“This is my partner, Madison. We would just like to ask a few questions before we begin our investigation into making certain that it was foul play from a supernatural instead of human interference.” He nods.
“You’re going to speak with Alexandra’s mother for that part. I wasn’t here when any of it happened. I only got here now myself. I heard that your agency was the best for these kinds of matters, and I trusted them on that decision.”
He gestures us through a door that leads into a room where Alexandra’s parents are clasped together. The mother is in tears. The father has a blank expression on his face.
“Sir. Ma’am.” A good way to start any of these meetings is by showing the respects these people deserve. Even if they don’t, you’re not carrying yourself. The entire Agency is under the weight of one simple decision made by the entire staff. Marketing makes its way into every piece of our lives. Even the law enforcement agencies. “I am sorry to hear about the disappearance of your daughter. My name is Jack. This is my partner, Madison. We would like to ask you a few questions before we move on to your daughter’s room to make sure that there was interference from the supernatural community.”
The father rises from his seat and extends his hand. I take it.
“Thank you for coming under such short notice.” I nod.
“Not much was told to me over the phone. I was wondering if you could fill us in as to what happened.”
“We were away at work, and when we got back she was gone,” the mother chimes in.
“Where do you work?”
“We run a restaurant. When we’re away, Alexandra is taken care of by our neighbor. Madison is seventeen, so we don’t really have her under watch constantly. We only have the neighbor come by once a day when we’re late to make sure everything’s okay.”
I take out a notebook and begin writing things down.
“And did she come around tonight?”
“Yes. Our manager said we can take off for the night. The neighbor told me that Alexandra
was fine at a quarter past five. We got back at six, and she was gone.”
“Madison here is a trained field agent, specializing in the location and retrieval of missing persons. Depending on the cloak or abilities used to get in and out of here, she will be able to detect what we are dealing with, if not the location of your girl.” I turn to her, and she’s looking at me with an expression that shows her distaste in my lie.
That was not the priority now. Making this family think they have the greatest agents here is what my intentions are.
“Right,” her soft voice mutters, standing up. She raises a hand into the air, eyes closed. She begins making symbols in the air. It takes a few tries, but after a while, the air before her burns bright with the runes she’s written in the air. I can see that the parents, even the grandfather. is amazed.
I would be, too, had Vicky not explained this, much like street magic, is just a time waster. She, like me, is now just giving them a show.
Then I notice her mood shifts. She begins walking from the room where we stand, into the hallway where we were led in, and then into a bedroom. The master bedroom, from what I can tell. She carries on a few moments, gesturing with her hands in various symbols and styles. All four of us have followed her here to watch the show. She drops down into a monk’s pose, but her hands don’t stop moving.
“Can you all keep quiet?” she asks.
“No one said anything,” I reply.
“I can hear you think.” And with the last comment, the door slams shut. We wait around in the lounge for a while. No one says anything. The grandfather, in the time he’s been resting, has picked up and forgotten about his guitar on his lap. The mother has drunk two cups of tea. The father, an equal amount of whiskey.
It goes on for quite some time until Madison returns to the lounge.
“Sorry that it took me so long,” she begins. “Whatever Jack told you about me isn’t true. I am still rather new to it all,” I feel embarrassment flush over me, but I don’t say anything, no matter what I’m feeling. She’s probably going somewhere with this. “Now, I only bring this up because, had I been better, I would have had the ability to do it faster.”
The Vampire Touch 2: Into the Uknown Page 7