“How dare you?” Flannet fumed, wrestling with the knife. The hooded figures around him snickered. Others became restless.
Molly stood quickly.
“What is this?” Flannet hissed, unable to believe any woman would or could turn him down.
Tom beckoned Molly to hurry and took her by the waist, pulling her to him and setting her in his lap while flashing a smart grin at Flannet. Flannet raged, standing up from his seat. A figure behind him snatched his shoulder, forcing him back into his chair.
“Mr. Flannet, are you having trouble acting civilized? We are not animals.” Deschamps reprimanded him as he walked in.
Flannet immediately calmed down, eyes wide. “I apologize, sir,” he said meekly, shooting a death gaze at Tom and a wicked smile at Molly. Molly looked away quickly, her heart pounding. Tom held her steady, patting her thigh in reassurance.
Deschamps spoke to the attendees. “Brothers, Mikael’s successor—our new patriarch—has arrived!” The cloaked members clapped quietly and calmly. The pale women looked around the hall greedily for the successor, each hoping to be his object of affection. “This brother of ours served Mikael faithfully and loyally for many years. He is a promising successor and leader of the Society. And as you all know, he is the first member of the Society to be gifted with both our ancestral powers and those of the clans in Eastern Europe.” There was mixed a reaction. “Now, now, brothers, I know the clans have not always been in our good graces. Those who are cursed by the moon have long held a vendetta against us, and we against them. However this faithful member of ours has proven his loyalty by accepting the bite and serving the Society truly and selflessly. His initiation marks the beginning of a new, stronger species.”
Tom began to pay very close attention.
“This intertwining of inheritances has made him very special. I have never seen one such as him, exhibiting both the traits of the wolf and our own. It is truly amazing!”
Tom fidgeted uneasily in his seat, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. Molly quickly covered her ring with one hand as its glow suddenly brightened. The blue in Tom’s eyes faded. His grip tightened on the arms of the chair. One of them splintered and broke.
“Brothers! I introduce to you our new leader!” Deschamps proclaimed.
Tom’s eyes changed to a pale yellow. The glow of Molly’s ring intensified, and she struggled to keep it unseen. Deschamps threw both arms high into the air in exclamation. “Harlan Crowe!”
Tom’s eyes opened wide as he tried in vain to muffle what sounded like a gasping, choked growl of pain. He lowered his head, arms gripping the table and shaking uncontrollably. The Society members stood and applauded. Tom couldn’t believe it.
Molly clenched her fist, turning the jewel of the ring into her palm. “Thomas,” she whispered urgently.
Harlan stepped into the hall beneath the large iron candelabra hanging overhead, hands raised to hush the cheering. His smile was just like Tom’s, inch for inch. His hair, however, was jet black, very straight, and his eyes a chilled ash-gray. He favored their mother in looks. Tom’s face was longer; Harlan’s was rounder. His nose was shorter than Tom’s, and his jaw less defined, making him look many more years younger than Tom than he was. He did share the ferocity in his brow and eyes that Tom so often did. Though of mixed curses, he, like, Tom, had the demeanor and eyes of the wolf. “Good evening, everyone.”
Tom flinched, his claws protruding from his fingers, digging into and mangling the polished table. Molly made a desperate attempt to calm him. “Thomas!” she whispered harshly. With her free hand, she grabbed his clawed one tightly.
Tom’s eyes glowed golden.
“Now, my friends,” Harlan said, “to celebrate the rebirth of the Society, shall we commence the ceremonies?”
Deschamps called out. “Stand!”
The members cheered.
“Tonight we mourn the passing of Mikael Sehović, noble Christopher Barnes, and those lost in the senseless murders in London,” Deschamps continued. The pale women’s eyes latched onto him as he spoke. “In their honor, we collect the debt owed to us by our neighbors for their inhospitality here in Barbados!”
Harlan’s newly acquired vampire’s fangs made him look like a wolf with rattlesnake mouth. His wolf’s teeth emerged from his gums like saw blades, his fur thickened around the chest and stood up in tufts and he sprouted black, veiny wings from his back that opened two ragged holes in the rear of his vest and pushed his waistcoat away. His fingertips sprouted short, thick claws and his fingers elongated. His lupine snout turned up ever so slightly and his nose became a flat, stubby spade. He looked like nothing Tom had ever seen. The other members changed as well, growing lean, muscular and batlike while maintaining their humanoid posture and stature. “For Mikael!” Harlan declared. Tom had never heard a transformed werewolf speak, and it made his skin crawl.
The members cheered again, many moving upstairs to swarm the unsuspecting city outside. Allowing Deschamps to go ahead, Harlan started toward the staircase. He paused and looked at Tom writhing in his chair, with Molly sitting in his lap attempting to stop his fit. “What’s the matter, brother? Are you not eager?” He smiled wickedly, with Tom’s smile.
Tom roared, standing to his feet as his body mutated. Springing from the floor, he leapt at Harlan with jaws open, claws ready to kill. Molly fell to the ground, and her ring flashed violently. Tom caught Harlan in the ribs with two claws and Harlan shoved him away.
“What a wonderful occasion it is! My own brother! Here to wish me all the best, I’m sure.” Harlan mocked him and ignored the injuries.
Tom spun around, poised to attack again.
“Hello, Thomas. Did you think I did not know you were coming?” His voice changed—a mixture of a high pitched screech and a deep drone. “It is in your best interest to leave. I will not warn you twice!” Both his arms grew to unusual length. His eyes were black instead of gold. The ring on his left index finger—the sister ring to Molly’s—glowed a deep purple.
Zachary Flannet reappeared, weaseling his way past Harlan and grabbing at Molly while Tom was distracted. Molly gasped and ran. Flannet—pale and winged—seized Molly and rushed to the next room, tossing her to the floor. Molly yelped as she hit the solid stone, desperately digging a pistol out of its holster.
“My dear, I’m afraid you’re going to have to overcome that terrible pride if you wish to last the night,” Flannet warned, approaching with teeth bared as he shed his jacket and vest. “Do as I ask, and I may let you live forever!” He licked the sharp teeth and picked Molly up to face him. “Besides, what is it worth to you to die, hm?”
Harlan and Tom continued their battle in the banquet hall. Harlan batted Tom away with a swift punch, sending him back across the table, spilling glasses and overturning plates and chairs. Tom yelped in pain. At that moment, the ring on Molly’s finger began to blaze in response to Tom’s escalating peril.
“Ah! A pretty ring you have there,” Flannet said, chuckling darkly. “Maybe I’ll spare just that finger?” He laughed wickedly.
Molly glared at him. “I’m glad you like it. It’ll be the last pretty thing you ever see.”
Flannet’s smile faded to a sneer. “I’ll take that wager.” He opened his jaws wide. Molly’s ring flashed a blinding light that filled the room. Flannet’s mouth turned from a vengeful gaping bite to a gasp of horror. He shrank back and shrieked. His skin burned and corroded away like paper over a match. In a final rage, he struggled forward, bony fingers reaching out toward Molly as they were stripped of skin and flesh.
“Spuere ignis!” Molly shouted, pointing her ruby ring at the vampire and following up with a blast of flames.
Flannet screamed as the stream of fire swallowed him and drove him back into the dark. Molly fell to her knees and trembled on the floor, breathing deeply for a moment. Flannet’s ashes sizzled and smoldered until a last puff of smoke signaled his end. A burnt coat lay on the ground, along with a gold chain and pendant
bearing the Society’s mark. Molly gaped at the remants for a moment before rushing out of the room to find Tom, but not before snatching up the gold chain and looping it around her neck.
The grand banquet hall was vacant. Dishes and glasses were shattered, and smothered candles lay broken on the floor. Several chairs were overturned. Claw marks crossed the table, and red stains marred the stone floor. Following the aligned points of light projected from her ring, Molly sprinted through the darkness to find her way out of the house.
“Thomas! Did you come here to die?” Harlan asked, nearly completely transformed. His voice was warped and diabolical.
Tom was now fully transformed, having shed all but his trousers and belt. The tattoo around his mark could not combat his curse any longer and melted away, leaving only remnants of ink where it had been. Tom slashed at Harlan, who swiftly dodged the attack. Harlan took flight and perched like a falcon on the roof of the highest watchtower in Deep Water Harbour. Tom circled below, huffing and panting.
Molly ran into the street, her twin pistols at the ready. She kept herself close to the buildings lining the street as she followed the bright path of stars dancing around her fingertips. Outside, Tom’s crew fired into the air. The Black Coats above shrieked and darted in all directions. Shouts rang out in the city, and several forms lay motionless in the street. A nearby shop was burning. One of the Coats hopped from roof to roof, setting fire to each with a glowing torch.
“Caeco et punire!” shouted Molly, firing from her pearl-handled pistols. Two blazing orbs of light struck the torchbearer mercilessly in the right leg and ribs. The creature cried out, dropping the torch into the open market and plummeting to the cobblestone, struggling to return to flight. Molly continued on, desperate to end it all. Her stomach became weak each time she stepped over a body in the street.
A window within the gunsmith’s burst outward, coughing glass and dark smoke into the air. Shaw stepped from a doorway, two compact pistols in hand, warding off a pair of vampires. Confused people spilled into the streets, yelling nonsensically. Molly turned abruptly, catching sight of Shaw and firing her pistols at the Coats attacking him. One of the shades fell into a heap, while the other slashed wildly at Shaw. He fired off a shot, tearing its wing. The creature retreated. Molly ran over to Shaw, observing his wounds. “Are you all right?”
“What a hunt, eh?” he answered shakily, checking himself for injury. “A few scratches. We should find Captain Crowe.” He began to turn but paused. “You’re all right?” he asked. His hazel eyes revealed a personal concern.
“Yes, of course.” Molly continued along the path that her ring drew for her. Running as fast as her body would allow, she fought to ignore the burning, cursed mark on her shoulder. It played with her mind, making her vision intensely sharp and her hearing acute. Focusing on one object or sound was difficult. Looking beautiful and large, the moon above felt as though it were pulling at her chest. She thought she could hear a woman singing…
Tom had made his way to the top of the watchtower, but Harlan had gotten the better of him and now dangled Tom over the edge by his neck.
“Thomas, you and I both know what will happen if this keeps up. I will let you live if you leave this place and never come back.”
Tom, squinting in pain, slashed at Harlan, who avoided the swipe.
“You are not listening!” Harlan shouted, tightening his grip.
Tom spoke through being choked. He was no longer fully transformed, and felt himself weakening. “You did…this…to me. Won’t…end…until…you die.” His speech was crude and barely human.
“You’ve cursed yourself, Thomas!” Harlan yelled furiously, shaking Tom. “You cannot possibly kill me now, Thomas! I never needed Father’s ring to find you or kill you because I knew you’d be doing the same thing—trying to find me. All I had to do was wait for you to come knocking. Here you are now, just as I expected! You’re here to be rid of your curse, aren’t you? In truth, there is no getting rid of it, Thomas. Not for people like us!”
Harlan released Tom, who fell from the tower, crashing through a lower roof. Harlan followed him down. A pillar of dust and debris rose from the gaping hole in the building. Tom stood awkwardly, pushing his way out of the mess. “Leave!” Harlan commanded him, swinging a fist at Tom from behind. Tom reacted with excessive speed. He bent just out of reach, catching Harlan’s wrist as it passed his face, throwing Harlan off balance. In the few seconds Harlan was stumbling, Tom reached into the pouch hanging at his hip and took a jade in each hand.
“Manus magia,” he muttered, relaxing his breathing as his palms began to emit dark green aurae. His muscles swelled and flexed. With a roar, Tom attacked, thrusting a palm at Harlan’s chest. Harlan deflected the thrust, and Tom caught his wrist instead, squeezing and snapping the bones. Harlan shrieked loudly. Tom caught Harlan under the arm, biting into his shoulder, then spun him around, released him and sent him staggering backward. Putting his left foot forward, Tom leaned and hammered both glowing palms into Harlan’s ribs, blasting him through the front door and out into the street. Tom pounced again, fangs bared and claws spread wide.
Molly witnessed the destruction from farther down the street and saw Harlan sprawled on the ground. Her map ring glowed brighter as she approached the scene. Several more shots sounded out and numerous shrieks filled the air. Shaw approached, out of breath.
“Miss Bishop! You should not be here!” He seized her arm, tugging her in the other direction.
Harlan rolled out of Tom’s reach. Tom landed solidly where Harlan once lay, cracking the stones underfoot with another thundering thrust of his palm. Little green sparks flew up from crevices in the ground several yards from the impact. “I did not kill Father! Is that what you think?” Harlan huffed. Tom rushed forward, tearing into Harlan with a fistful of claws. Harlan latched onto Tom’s chest, and then kicked him backward. Tom tumbled into a wooden wheelbarrow.
“Even if I had tried, Father would have killed me just as quickly as he would any other Black Coat!”
“And for good reason!” Tom leapt to his feet, taking a vial of blood from his hip pouch.
“Thomas, do not force me to kill you!” Harlan delivered a hard blow to Tom’s stomach. Tom shrank back, roaring through shaky breaths, nearly dropping the vial.
“Father abandoned Mother and me,” Harlan said, breathing heavily between words, “but I have never wished him ill.”
“Accire canes!” Tom threw the vial to the ground at his feet, smashing it open. From the small puddle sprang three living, breathing hounds, each large and muscular, with hollow, hellish eyes. They surrounded Harlan, working as a pack, attacking him in turns.
One of Tom’s eyes was swollen shut, his legs and sides bloodied. “Father didn’t abandon you. You abandoned us—your family.”
“Liar!” Harlan cried, beating back the hounds. “Occisus a corvis!” he cried, puncturing his arm with his pointed teeth and then swinging the arm to shed his blood to the air. A thick flock of black birds burst from the droplets, swarming his body like bees. The mass of whirling bodies and feathers rose, carrying Harlan with them, then suddenly the flock formed a chattering, squawking stream, launching itself at Tom with full force.
“A muro manus!” Tom shouted, thrusting his palms out in front of him, using the jades to produce a protective, deep green magical barrier that received the onslaught of the dark flock and dispelled them outward. When the flock vanished, so, too, had Harlan.
Tom spun around, his lupine senses directing his attention to every minor disturbance of the air or its smell. His eyes flashed quickly from shadow to shadow, searching the most untrustworthy nearby areas for movement.
Whap! Harlan’s fist struck Tom directly in the face as he turned to look over one shoulder, and sent him to the ground, dizzy and disoriented.
Roaring hideously, Harlan carried himself with black wings high up above the street. The crescent moon was eclipsed by his dark figure. Tom watched two, spinning imag
es of Harlan hovering above, trying to determine which was the threat. Harlan opened his mouth with the shrillest cry. His teeth shone sickly white. His fingers extended, his body stretched and changed into its most grotesque form. Long claws like nails protruded from his fingertips. Wings folded back, he plummeted into a dive, with claws thrust forward like many daggers, aimed at Tom’s chest. His black form tore toward the earth. Tom looked on quietly. Was he dreaming now? Harlan soared straight into Tom, the impact of his weight echoing like a boulder down a mountainside as he struck the ground. The street beneath him, all the way to Molly and Shaw, cracked and tremored. Molly broke free of Shaw’s grip and ran foward, screaming out to Tom. Shaw called out after her, fearful that he’d actually have to consider initiating Tom’s final orders and take Molly back to the ship.
Harlan, hunching over Tom’s body, breathed heavily and slowly, staring down at Tom with a desperate, angry scowl. His hands were planted on either side of Tom’s body—he’d feigned the strike, and hadn’t aimed his claws for Thomas at all.
His breathing slowed. He saw Tom’s hands wrapped around something. A shiny blade stretched up from Tom’s hands, plunged into Harlan’s stomach. From a distance one could clearly see its silver tip standing tall and jutting from Harlan’s exposed back. At the last second, Tom had drawn Brother from his side and raised it as Harlan came plummeting to his own undoing.
Harlan gasped very quietly, eyes wide. He rolled over and collapsed next to Tom. Some recently unloaded cargo stacked neatly behind Tom split and fell to pieces—rocked to ruin from the quake moments before. Small white flowers, moonbloom, packed neatly in bouquets, spilled out into the street. The flowers wrinkled and mashed under weight of the boards. Several pale petals floated gently down in front of Tom’s face. He watched them touch the stone street and rest easily before being picked up by the breeze and carried away.
“What are you doing?” Tom said. He couldn’t believe Harlan had missed—hadn’t crushed Tom like a bug when he’d had the chance.
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