Crumbling Control (Helena Hawthorn Series Book 3)

by May Freighter

  Lucious let out a low growl. He finally found a small device the size of a watch battery embedded in the heel of the boot. This hunter was bait for any supernatural creature who would bring them back to their hideout without searching first.

  “Bloody hunters.” Not taking any chances, Lucious stripped the hunter naked, leaving his clothing behind. “Let’s go, Byron.”

  Byron grimaced. “His junk is touching your shoulder. I hope you know that.”

  “I am well aware of that fact,” Lucious said, resigned, and they ran towards Byron’s car which was parked on Clarendon Road.

  “You said Vincent needed to see me urgently. Why?” Helena asked, out of breath, as she and Perri hurried down the stairs to the ground floor.

  “He didn’t explain why, just told me to get you.”

  At the bottom of the staircase, Perri turned right, and Helena nervously played with the bracelet Maya had given her. With Andrew missing for the past three days, her anxiety grew. What if something happens to him while he is out there? Even when she asked Orlaith about his whereabouts, the PA stared at her phone’s screen, checking for messages with an abandoned look on her face. It had to be bad because she stopped offering Helena vitamin pills.

  Perri came to a halt in front of Vincent’s study, next to the library, and pushed the door open.

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  Swallowing her nerves, Helena staggered inside with her hands pressed to her sides. No matter how she tried to look at this situation, she couldn’t place why he had to rush her here.

  “Helena, it is good to see you.” Vincent motioned for her to come closer.

  As she did so, she noticed another figure standing behind the Councilman, eyeing the books on the highest shelf. The build and the silver hair colour of the new man rang bells in her mind and his name escaped her lips. “Levile?”

  The vampire turned on his heels. His eyes widened with recognition, and he looked at Vincent. “Master, is she the one I am to help?”

  “Do you two know each other?” Vincent inquired.

  It took her some time to gather her wits. Helena gave a shaky laugh. They had parted on pretty bad terms when he pushed her into the Council’s cell without acknowledging her request to see Vincent.

  A scowl crept to her face when Levile said, “I thought you were dead, Miss Hawthorn.”

  “I got lucky,” Helena replied and focused on Vincent’s amused expression. “Why is he here? Doesn’t he serve the Council as a hound?”

  “He does. He is my second childe, Levile du Monde. I am pleased you know one another. I can skip the introductions. There is an urgent business I must attend to, so I must excuse myself.” Vincent rose from behind his desk and fixed his striped grey tie. “I have instructed Levile to take you to the Council’s Archives tonight. I believe the library in this home holds little information that can be used to keep us from the darkness on the other side of the gate. Or am I mistaken?”

  Helena was going to bring it up sooner or later. She spent her past two nights in the library, unable to sleep with Andrew avoiding her calls. Nothing in the tomes seemed to strike her as useful information. Most of the stories were recitals of the witch hunts and the possible demon sightings instead of ways to defeat a demon.

  “You’re right, I need a bigger library,” Helena said.

  Vincent inclined his head. He plucked his black suit jacket off the back of his seat and put it on. “Then everything is decided. Please prepare a week’s worth of clothing for the journey. As you will be close to London and the hunters, I have arranged for my childe to guard you while you are there.”

  She raised her hands. “There’s no need for that. I can go alone.”

  “Master Vincent has given his orders, Miss Hawthorn,” Levile said sternly and lowered his head.

  Helena pursed her lips to silence the budding protest.

  “Are you discontent with him?” Vincent asked once he finished buttoning up his jacket.

  Levile lifted his head enough for their eyes to meet. Even though she held a bit of a grudge, she saw fear in his green eyes. “It’s okay. I’m perfectly happy to travel with Levile to the Archives.”

  The vampire smiled behind his sire as Vincent strode past and planted his hand on her shoulder. “He will take good care of you, Helena. Trust him to protect you with his life.”

  “I don’t need him to do that.”

  “There may come a time where you may be left with no choice,” Vincent said and ambled out of the office.

  Resting her hands on her hips, she waited for Levile to apologise for his behaviour all those months ago. She got none of that.

  The man who looked about twenty-five walked around the desk with the grace of a cat. When he was close enough, he gave her a distant smile that did not affect the assessment of her his eyes were conducting. “If you do not mind my asking, are you of Wiccan descent?”

  “I mind,” Helena huffed and stormed out of the room. Looks like packing had become a daily thing for her. She couldn’t even unpack at one place anymore as something always kept her moving, be it vampires, demons, or hunters. Nothing was simple anymore.

  After she prepared everything and told Orlaith to inform Andrew of her leaving once he returned, if he did, Helena hugged Perri close to her chest.

  “I will take these.” Levile collected her bags from her. At least, he remained a gentleman.

  “I’ll miss you,” Perri cried into her shoulder.

  “I will, too.”

  Sniffling, Perri wiped at her tear-stricken face and rushed to Levile. She clutched his hand. “Master Levile, take good care of her. She is my only friend.”

  Levile stiffened and cleared his throat. “Of course. My orders were to keep her safe, so I will do just that.”

  The maid scowled at him. “Anyone can be safe in a cage. Taking good care of her is another matter.”

  Helena couldn’t help a laugh escaping her. “Perri, you worry too much.”

  “I don’t worry enough,” she protested and gave Helena another brief hug. “Be safe…both of you.”

  Levile said nothing and carried the bags to the car.

  Taking in Perri’s concerned expression, Helena had to look away or she would want to stay with her friend. The doppelganger’s words floated in her mind as she put distance between her and Vincent’s home. She knew that, eventually, the supernatural world would cause her death. Too bad it was sooner rather than later. Till then, she had to find a way to break the link with Lucious at any cost. If Michael was not going to provide any information, she could only rely on herself and the Council’s Archives.

  The night was young when Lucious and Byron parked outside of a derelict nursery in Harrow, fifteen minutes after the kidnapping. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, Lucious assessed the squirming hunter with distaste. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of what he had to subject the hunter to if he didn’t give up the details quickly. Knowing the hunters, they only cracked after more than a dozen bones were broken or their organs were being removed without anaesthesia.

  Across the empty road was an unkempt front garden next to a family planning clinic. The nursery windows and doors were boarded up. He stepped out of the car and dragged the restrained hunter off the back seats. When the man collided with the rough pavement, his groan was muffled by the dirty oily rag in his mouth.

  “Are you certain we won’t be found here?” Lucious asked Byron who killed the engine and joined him.

  “Lucas no longer uses this place as a safe house,” Byron replied. “Unless they’re looking for us, I doubt it.” He spared a pitying glance at the hunter’s trembling limbs once the cold air brushed against him.

  Seeing that Byron was not going to carry the man, Lucious seized the hunter by the neck and forced him to stumble towards the empty building. Tall grass bent under his heavy footsteps over the hardened garden soil. His hand tightened around the hunter’s neck as Byron ripped off the boards nailed to the front door’s frame.r />
  He waved for Lucious to go in. “After you.”

  Grumbling a ‘thanks’, Lucious marched the man into the building. Moonlight peered through the gaps in the windows and roof. He scanned the white room for anything he could use. A dark blue separation wall was erect in the middle, isolating the other side of the room from prying eyes. Used paper bags and abandoned furniture were left on the grimy linoleum. The smell of stale water hung thick in the air—nothing he wasn’t used to.

  Byron chuckled beside him. “It’s lovely here.”

  “It is better than some places I’ve been to,” Lucious replied as he pushed the hunter down, sending him squeaking along the flooring.

  “I’ll go get a light from the car,” Byron informed him.

  Lucious walked around his prey. In the dark, he saw a mixture of fear and anger fighting for dominance in the hunter’s eyes. His hair was cropped short around his head and distasteful tattoos were inked on his chest, wrists, and scarred back.

  The hunter’s eyes narrowed as he watched Lucious complete his circle and then face away.

  A leftover chair from the previous owners of the building sat alone at the end of the room. Lucious dragged it across the linoleum, making the wooden legs screech. Instead of putting the hunter into the seat, he sat down and bent forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. He observed the hunter.

  Minutes passed. Byron returned with portable lamps which he placed around the room. He peered at Lucious who hadn’t moved a muscle since he took a seat and edged out of the room without as much as a peep.

  What Lucious saw was a chunk of meat. He had to repeat it over and over in his head, forcing the chant into belief. The man wasn’t experienced. The smooth skin all over his body with an exception of the claw marks on the hunter’s back proved it. The scars had whitened, and Lucious estimated them to be over a decade old. Based on the young features of this man, he was attacked in his early teens by someone and decided to join the hunters to exact his revenge. Whatever his story was, Lucious picked out the evident discomfort the hunter felt with his stare on him.

  Nonetheless, Lucious only cared to appear to the hunter as a monster. His eyes lit with a blue glow that shifted into the red when his mind conjured images of Ben getting close to Helena. He pushed the thought away as soon as it assimilated. The hunters had to pay for their betrayal, but he needed to be patient.

  Slowly, he rose from his seat and tore the material out of the hunter’s mouth. Towering over the glaring man, he said in a detached voice, “If you answer my questions without delay, you may leave here alive.”

  The hunter spat on Lucious’ boot and grinned.

  “Lick it off,” Lucious ordered.

  The man snorted and spoke with a thick Irish accent. “Piss off, vampire. You may as well kill me now ‘cause I ain’t telling you nothing.”

  “I will not repeat myself again. Lick. It. Off.” Lucious placed the boot in front of the hunter again.

  A chilling smile stretched Lucious’ lips as he, faster than lightning, grasped the back of the man’s head and slammed his face into the hard leather of his shoe. When a distinct crack filled the silence, indicating the hunter’s nose was broken, Lucious lifted him.

  Red stained his boot, and he sighed. He would need to buy a new pair before he saw Helena.

  “I ain’t telling you nothing!” the man yelled and tried to scramble into a standing position. The rope that bound his arms and legs together behind his back made him lose balance. He face planted and a groan escaped him as he shook his head in an attempt to get his bearings.

  Lucious didn’t give him the chance. He squatted next to the hunter, grasped him by the neck and slammed his face into the linoleum.

  “Would you like to repeat that?” Lucious inquired in a bored tone.

  “I…a…you.” The hunter spat out his teeth. Soon, one by one, they shattered and yellowed chunks of enamel fell out of his mouth as he attempted to speak.

  Unable to make out a word he said, Lucious lifted his head an inch and waited.

  “…uck you,” the man screamed, earning him another rough date with the floor, which split both of his lips.

  Taking his time, Lucious strode to the seat and collapsed into it. He watched the hunter struggling to get back into a sitting position. This process no longer brought him joy. On the inside, Lucious felt empty as if his soul went to a better place while his body did such horrendous deeds. If Helena saw him now, without a doubt she would turn away from him in an instant. But, he had no choice. He was a monster all the way to his black heart.

  The connection between them shook as her words echoed in his mind, “I’ve arrived at the Council’s Archives. I wanted you to know that…”

  The Council. Again they subjected her to something she should not be involved in. He should have given in and brought her to Alexander before taking on this mission.

  “Let me go like. I ain’t even killed one of you,” the hunter’s voice drew him back to reality and the job at hand.

  The man managed to prop himself up in the time Lucious was thinking. Blood ran thick over his chin and dripped onto his thighs and ground. It occurred to the hunter how exposed he was, and he covered his only important extremity with both hands.

  “Are you willing to answer my questions?” Lucious asked.

  The hunter’s face contorted. He must have imagined something gruesome. “I can’t. They’ll skin me alive!”

  Booming laughter escaped Lucious. “A skilled human skinning you alive would take days. You could die from the shock to your system soon after, if not during the procedure. But,” he paused and folded his arms, “I can keep you alive for days, even weeks, by feeding you my blood. You will suffer as I grate salt and sand into your exposed muscles…” Lucious’ eyes burned brighter for the effect. “Is that not more fun?”

  The hunter gulped and his complexion turned ghostly white. Trembling, he stumbled over his words. “I-I… What do you need?”

  “I need you to tell me about the wedding, its location, and the participants.”

  Obviously torn, the hunter licked his swelling lip over and over again.

  “Time is of the essence, young man. I believe there are better career choices than being subjected to hunting the supernatural. Or do you not agree?” Lucious tilted his head to one side.

  When no answer came, Lucious stood. It sent the hunter falling over backwards in fear.

  “Jesus, mate, you could have had his balls cut off and fed to him by now. You’ve turned soft over a bird,” Byron added from the doorway.

  Lucious glared at the werewolf, his demeanour changing from calm to irritation in a matter of seconds. “Do not bring her into this…”

  “Do you want me to do it instead? Are you losing your edge, Ripper?” Byron offered.

  His taunting summoned a growl from deep within Lucious’ throat.

  “Yer the Ripper?” the hunter screeched and scrambled away, not caring for the ropes that were attached to his limbs. His bare back hit the wall. Huge eyes shone with terror as he scratched at his thigh. “No, not possible. It’s not possible!” The hunter repeated in denial.

  Lucious had not used that name since the nineteenth century. He slaughtered the hunters everywhere he went, leaving the undercover hunters who pretended to be whores on the dirty streets of London where they belonged. Thereafter, he left their bodies for Scotland Yard and other hunters to find as a warning and a message. The threat he had given this hunter was nothing compared to the torture he dispensed while consumed with the loss of his sire.

  Byron piped up, “This man killed…” He looked at Lucious expectantly. “How many hunters was it?”

  “Byron…” Lucious warned. His patience was wearing thin.

  “How many?” Byron demanded.

  Through gritted teeth, he grout out the number, “Two hundred and sixty-eight.”

  Byron strode to the hunter and bent down low. Silver bled into his eyes as he loomed over the quivering man. “If y
ou don’t want to be his next, I suggest you start talking. He is not a patient man.”

  Lucious fleeted out of the nursery and into the night’s welcoming air. The weather from Watford had caught up and the rain descended on him as he waded through the tall grass. So many lives he had taken—too many. Each one was a brand on his soul that could never be removed.

  “Where are you going?” Byron shouted after him.

  “I need to see her,” Lucious replied without meaning to.

  Byron grasped his shoulder. “Do you want to see her while covered in the blood of another? You have to finish what you’ve started. Everyone’s lives depend on this, even hers!”

  “I know full well the enormity of this mission, but I crave her presence. She is the only person who accepts me.”

  “Is she truly capable of accepting you for everything you’ve done? The hunters fear you. You’ve become a horror story to their children. Do you think anyone would welcome such a nightmare into their bed?”

  Lucious smacked his hand away and grasped Byron by the throat. “I have abandoned my old self the instant I was sure of my feelings for her. Did you not do the same with your woman? Or did you betray me that night for no good reason?”

  Byron’s eyes burned with molten silver, and he clasped Lucious’ wrist with a morphing hand. His fingers elongated and his features contorted into a face of an ugly, monstrous beast. “I have my limits too, Lucious. Let go before I shift.”

  Lucious released him and headed for the road. He ignored Byron’s calls and, before he could fleet in the direction of the Council’s Archives, heard Vincent’s booming voice, “Freeze.”

  The Councilman’s energy webbed around his body. Lucious had no other choice but to comply with the order as he glowered on the inside.

  Vincent strode to him with Lucas, the head of the South London pack. The werewolf alpha hadn’t changed since the last time he and Lucious had an intervention. His dark eyes were almost covered by the messy black hair that fell over his thick brows. The masculine features and expensive clothes kept the alpha welcome in the circles of the rich and famous. Unmated, the alphas were a pain to deal with, and Lucas Ford did his best to avoid taking a woman who could ruin his perfect pack of two hundred.