Anna seemed to struggle with something as she wound her fingers into her thick, dark hair. “I cannot share my worries or thoughts with you, but you are smart enough to piece everything together. This is my last warning. Dark times are coming. If you want what’s best, you will take your loved one and flee this country.”
“What if we could stop the hunters? What if the threat disappeared?”
Anna tilted her head to one side in thought. “It may delay the inevitable.”
“But there is a chance, isn’t there?”
She nodded.
Lucious strode out of Anna’s chambers with more determination than ever to stop whatever Eliza was planning. Even if he had to rip every hunter limb from limb, he would do so. Because, if his sire’s agitation and the gate’s painting had anything to do with the plan, he knew that the ‘dark times’ were, indeed, ahead of them.
Helena stretched on a bed and rolled to one side. Someone lay next to her. She dismissed it as Perri being in her bed to provide comfort.
“Helena, you’re touching my chest,” Andrew’s voice filled her ears, and she shot up as if the bed caught fire.
“What… Oh God, OUCH!” She cursed, massaging her eyes with her fingers. Pain exploded in her head, spreading to every nerve ending and intensifying her migraine. Unable to figure out what she should concentrate on, she eventually decided on Andrew’s presence in her bed. “What are you doing here?”
Peeking between her fingers at the sunlit room, she saw him shifting away from the rays of the sun that inched across her side of the bed.
“You begged me to stay with you last night. Perri told me you fell asleep on the floor and, when I was asked to lift you onto the bed, you grabbed me, demanding I stay with you. Judging by your reaction, you remember none of that,” he said with light humour.
She racked her mind for any memory of doing that. The only thing she did remember was Lucious’ arms and his warm lips pressed against hers. If it wasn’t for a banging headache, she would be grinning like a fool.
“I don’t recall any of that.”
“Figures.” Andrew pointed to the curtains. “Mind closing them? I can’t leave with them open unless you want me unconscious on the floor.”
“Good point.” She scrambled to her feet, squinting as she pulled the curtains shut. The pain at the forefront of her skull lessened, and she heaved a sigh of relief. Behind her, she felt Andrew’s presence.
He settled his hand on her shoulder. “Are you feeling better? You slept well last night.”
Without turning around, she nodded while assembling an excuse to get him to leave. She couldn’t afford to get too close to him, not while he harboured hope that they would work out. “Andrew, listen…”
The door opened, and Perri peered inside. “Oh, good, you’re awake. I brought you some things to help with the hangover. Andrew, could you leave us?”
He smiled at Perri and left the room with a single glance over his shoulder.
Perri raised her brow as she settled a tray on the bed. “I have never seen you being so forward until last night…”
Blushing, Helena sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to knock the glass of water and a small jar over. “What’s in that?”
“Tiger balm. Rupert said it does wonders for headaches.” Perri lifted the porcelain lid. The clear yellow paste inside smelled of menthol and oils Helena found to be soothing. “Lift your hair. I’ll massage it into your neck for you.”
Helena gathered her lose locks atop of her head then shifted to one side.
Perri dipped her fingers in the salve and spread it on Helena’s neck, massaging it into her skin. The mixture heated the areas her fingers touched, and Helena closed her eyes. Her friend was great at taking care of others.
“Do you like Andrew?” Perri inquired.
The moment was ruined. Helena slowly opened her eyes and stared at her bare feet. Someone must have taken her socks off last night. She sighed. “I like him as a friend.”
“By the way he acted last night, I take it he feels differently.”
Helena lowered her hair, and Perri applied the salve to her temples, carefully spreading the oily paste on her skin. Her headache magically retreated as promised. “That stuff is great. Thanks.”
“No need to thank me. You are a guest and a friend. I wouldn’t want to see you cringing in pain from a hangover.”
When her hands fell away, Helena grasped them and held on. She lowered her forehead to Perri’s knuckles and said, “I’m so happy you’re my friend. I need someone like you to be honest with me.”
Perri lifted her right hand and stroked Helena’s messy hair with motherly affection. “The orphanage taught me that we must care for one another while we’re together. I sometimes visit those who are left behind, unwanted. Their eyes have lost the love and light that everyone should have. The hopes and dreams… I wish I could do more.”
Helena looked at Perri’s face. She was combating tears, so Helena smiled. “I’m sure your presence there makes them happy.”
The maid bobbed her head and wiped at the dampness under her eyes. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I am glad you shared it with me.”
Perri clasped her hands together, making Helena blink. Her eyes grew wide with worry as the maid shouted, “I left the stove on!” She disappeared out of the room.
Helena couldn’t help but laugh. She sought out her suitcase that Orlaith brought into the room last night. At least, that happened before she managed to drown her sorrows in alcohol. She picked out a pair of black jeans and a green tank top, then selected her underwear at random—not like anyone cared if they matched. From what she remembered, Lucious didn’t talk like they would see each other anytime soon. Her shoulders slumped with her sullen mood. How am I supposed to tell him I have to leave in twelve days?
Taking large mouthfuls, she downed the water in the glass and shuffled her feet to the en-suite. Helena dropped her clothes by the bathtub and washed her face only to let out a surprised squeal when Maya’s red eyes stared back at her.
“I’ll never get used to that!”
Maya smirked. “I have to admit, it’s kind of fun.”
Helena rested her hands on the sides of the sink. “Are you alright? Did anything change?”
Maya’s smile faded. “Yeah. I met Baal, Queen of the Damned,” she snorted at her own joke. “They have this monarchy shit going on here. Lazarus was one of the key members of some top secret council. Now that I’m in his place, and his memories are merging with mine, I have to put up with—”
Helena halted her tirade by lifting her hand. “Wait. You’re merging with Lazarus? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“I was told by Amaenagh, she’s Baal’s granddaughter, that if Lazarus was strong enough at the time of initial merging, his mind would have won. And, since it’s been almost two months…”
“It’s only been two weeks,” Helena corrected her.
“The time difference is confusing. Time passes faster here. It’s why everyone is such a sourpuss.”
Helena grinned. “You never change.”
“If I did, I would go mad!” Maya paused and studied Helena again. The tell-tale signs of her humour were gone. “I found out what happened with the saint. She’s been captured by Reaver.”
Pulling back, Helena crossed her arms. Her irritation made her posture stiff. “Nadine deserves it. She killed Madeline!”
“As much as I would like to agree with you on that one, she did what had to be done. None of us want archdemons roaming the Human Realm.”
“She left a six-year-old girl without a mother, Maya. That’s not something that can be easily written off.”
“Imagine how many children would be left motherless if such a beast was to escape this realm?” Maya chided, her eyes reflecting the pain of losing her parents.
Helena’s throat went dry. “I’m sorry.” She lowered her arms. “I know I shouldn’t blame it on her. At the time, I was too emotional. I t
hought I lost two people in one day. I don’t believe I will be able to recover from that.”
Maya frowned. “I have to go. I can’t hold this connection open for long.”
“I understand.”
“And Helena, do me a favour and don’t blame Ben. If I was there, I would kick him in the sack for what he did, but I can’t. I won’t be able to talk to you for a while. I want to focus my energy on locating him. He needs to know I’m alive.”
“I won’t blame him,” Helena replied softly.
Maya winked. “Good. Now touch the mirror.”
Helena placed her hand against the cold surface and the dark tendrils of energy climbed her hand. They wound around her wrist and merged into a black leather bracelet with three crimson stones embedded in it. Rotating her wrist, Helena studied it. “What’s this?”
“A charm. It will help me find you, and you can summon me by…well by bleeding on it. Call it a blood sacrifice. Demons seem to love that crap.”
Helena snorted. Even though Maya was a demon, she hadn’t changed one bit. And, although she tried to imagine Maya talking in the Demon court, she couldn’t picture their shocked demonic faces. “Thanks.”
Maya’s image vanished, and Helena was back to staring at her reflection and a chicken’s nest on her head. What on earth did men see in her?
After a quick shower, she changed and found Andrew already waiting for her in the library. She manufactured a smile as she settled into her seat across the table from him. Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced up to find him staring.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“You wanted to tell me something earlier. What was it?” He set a book he was holding on the table.
Her palms began to sweat, and she curled her fingers in her lap. “I—” Helena swallowed in an attempt to push down the rock that seemed to be trapped in her throat. “I want you to forget about me.”
She observed his face intently, eager to find out what he was thinking, but his expression remained a perfect blank. What is it with vampires and having an unbreakable poker face?
“Did he tell you to do it?” Andrew asked after a drawn out minute.
Her hands knotted in her lap, fingers seeking comfort from one another. “No. Right now, I can’t see you as anything more than a friend. It’s not fair to you.”
Andrew got up and glared at her. A strong green glow irradiated his irises. “Shouldn’t it be my choice whether I want to let you go?”
“Andrew, please,” she whispered. Her meek voice betrayed her lack of courage as she feared to lose him as a friend.
A whirl of wind kicked the loose pages on the table, sending them dancing in the air. When she blinked, Andrew was already gone out of the library and the door slammed behind him hard enough to make the wooden frame creak in agony.
“It is best to push those vultures away,” a feminine voice spoke in her mind. “Remember, Helena, who brought you your suffering.”
Closing her eyes, Helena focused on her shields. Instead of the usual checkered floor, she was in a field of poppies. They brushed her jeans, and she stared in awe at how realistic they looked as the sun kissed their red heads.
A feminine figure appeared next to her. Helena jumped away, eyeing her doppelganger whose white gown brushed her ankles. The only difference was that this girl’s eyes were not the hazel Helena saw in the mirror every morning. They were the clearest blue like that of an untainted sky.
“Who are you?” Helena demanded. A warm wind brushed past her, whipping her hair around her face. She pushed her locks out of the way, tucking the unruly strands behind her ears.
The doppelganger looked at the flowers in the field. She picked one, severing its life by breaking the stem. “I am here to warn you, child,” she uttered in a soft, melodic tone. “Soon you are going to die.”
Helena’s mouth fell open but nothing escaped. The doppelganger’s words sank in, and, the next time the wind blew past, she didn’t feel its warm caress on her skin. Instead, a chill cooled her bones and her hair came undone from behind her ears. She could already sense the Death’s bony hand closing around her throat, and the worst part was that she knew that this woman spoke the truth.
5
The Council’s Archives
It took three days for Lucious and Byron to pinpoint the exact location of the hunters’ hideout in Watford. As Lucious crouched on the rooftop of the High Street, opposite The Bell pub, he counted the numbers of hunters on the lookout. Two were dressed in civilian attire at the entrance. They sat around a metal table, pretending to read The Sun newspaper, even though the light drizzle wet the pages and the only light came from the opened door through which loud music played. Another two hunters occasionally peeked out of the white-framed window on the first floor.
Lucious was certain, this was the right place. Too many things gave them away, such as the small bulges on their hips and ankles, indicating they were fully armed and ready for an attack.
“How many?” Byron whispered next to Lucious, with his back resting against the brick wall.
“Four guards. More than twenty heartbeats in the pub and three dozen in the parish across the way.”
Byron scratched the back of his head. “I don’t fancy getting my liver punctured with mercury bullets. You got a plan?”
Lucious studied his companion’s laidback attitude. “Would it kill you to come up with one by yourself?”
“You know my plan, mate. Charge in and take no prisoners.”
Shaking his head, Lucious sat next to him on the damp concrete. What separated the roof they were on and the pub was a small road. Shops lined the sides of it.
There were two possible escape routes, and neither appealed to him. One was going through the St. Mary’s parish territory, which was littered with alert hunters, and the other involved going through a covered path that led to more shops and too many blind spots, two dozen metres south of their whereabouts. The hunters were smart. They had set up motion detectors at the entrances and windows, cutting away their chances of pulling someone out without alerting the rest of their unit.
“We would be better off avoiding the hive by grabbing one or two as they are about to re-join the group after the hunt,” Lucious said.
Byron grinned and pulled out two P99 pistols from behind his back, one of which he handed to Lucious. “They’re fully loaded and coated with poison, in case we end up in a firefight. Other than that.” He patted a metal case next to him that Lucious had been eyeing for a while. Byron’s grin grew wider. “I brought a tranquillizer gun. I can take them down from a distance, and you can collect them. Quick and easy.”
“Am I to be impressed?”
“You’ve got to be. I spared no expense on this mission.”
Lucious raised a brow at the ridiculous statement, and the werewolf flipped him the bird.
“Fine. Phil financed the guns… I bet you are here just to take the fun out of the situation.”
“I would advise you not to lie, Byron. We do not have all night to get what we need.” Lucious tucked the pistol behind his back and indicated to the rooftop of a bank near the alleyway. “I’ll await your signal. Once one of them is down, I will move in.”
“Good luck.” Byron offered his hand in a form of a handshake.
Lucious examined the friendly gesture. The anger from the past betrayal remained close to his heart. Though the more he thought about it, the more vivid the image of Byron’s little girl became, and he reluctantly shook hands with the werewolf.
“I hope you have improved your aim,” Lucious blurted out and fleeted across the rooftops.
When he crossed three buildings, he had to jump onto a smaller, older building. The concrete met the soles of his boots with an almost silent plop, and he ducked. Quickening his pace, Lucious crossed the rooftop in a second. He peered over the edge of the building, assessing the street below. Two outdoor lights of a café next to the bank were on, stealing the darkness of the night he favoured. A couple w
as chatting away under a black umbrella as they walked home with groceries in hand, unaware of what was about to happen.
Once they disappeared into the dark path under a large clock, Lucious grabbed the edge of the building. He jumped onto the footpath below. Digging his hand into his pocket, he fished out a mobile phone Phil had given him then rested his back against the bank’s wall as he closed his eyes and listened out for movement.
Ten minutes had passed, and the phone in his hand buzzed once—the signal. He briefly scanned the text, making sure he had the location of the fallen hunter before sliding the device into his back pocket. Lucious’ phone vibrated again as he arrived at the corner, indicating that the coast was clear. All he could do now was trust Byron not to cock it up.
Two guards headed back to change shifts. Outside of a bright yellow photo store, face first against the rough pavement, laid a body. Taking this chance, he fleeted to him, stripped the hunter of his pistol and throwing darts. He lifted the bulky male with little effort, tossing the man over his shoulder and sped away from the hunters’ hideout.
As he rounded the corner, Byron was already sporting a smirk in the shadows.
“Let’s get out of here,” Lucious said.
Byron grabbed the silver case and strode after Lucious, matching his pace. “So, no comment about my superb sniping skills?”
Lucious stilled. Something kept nagging him, and he couldn’t figure out what. The operation had been too easy. The hunters couldn’t possibly have become so weak in such a short amount of time. And where was his partner? He dumped the body on the ground, scrutinising the unconscious man with a look of concentration.
“What’s wrong?” Byron asked, all playfulness gone from his voice.
Lucious searched the hunter’s pockets first. Then, he lifted the sleeves in search of the mark. When he found the tattoo of a tarantula on the man’s right wrist, it confirmed that this was a hunter of the Irish clan. He frowned as he continued his frantic search. Reaching the boots, he took them off one by one.
Byron hurried past him and looked out the side of the building. “Whatever you’re doing, hurry it up.”
Crumbling Control (Helena Hawthorn Series Book 3) Page 6