by Sean Stone
“Why did you show me that?”
“I wanted to show you that Ramsay does have enemies. There are vampires who would rather not follow him but until they are given an alternative in either Richie or Michael, they have little option. Do you understand my meaning?”
“I think so,” Clara said and nodded. He wanted Clara to rescue one of Ramsay’s prisoners so they could lead a coup.
“Remember, I will always be… available to those who wish to help the Clan,” he said cryptically. Again, Clara understood his meaning. If she did try to rescue one of the prisoners he would help. “Come, I’ll see you out.”
Clara plonked herself in her car, started the engine and drove away from the nightclub. With or without Jacob’s help, rescuing Richie or Michael was a mammoth task that Clara didn’t need on her plate. Eloise and the army was a big enough problem on its own. She knew that she should say no and leave the vampires to their own business. But then the Coven couldn’t fight the soldiers without allies. If Kegan convinced the werewolves to help then the vampires would not be needed. Kegan’s news would decide whether or not she took on Jacob’s suicide mission. She didn’t relish the idea of leaving Richie to the barbaric mercy of Ramsay, but she had to prioritise and unfortunately the town came before Richie. Once Eloise was dealt with she could help Richie, being immortal he had plenty of time.
A sudden burst of sirens made Clara jump in her seat. She put her hand to her heart she looked in her rear-view mirror to see a police car right behind her, signalling for her to pull over. She was just about to oblige when she realised that the police would be working for Eloise now. She knew that if she pulled over she was in trouble. The sort of trouble where nobody ever saw her again. Eloise had already declared her intention to execute her. The window on the police car rolled down and a black-clad soldier with a megaphone leaned out. So the police had been replaced with soldiers.
“No cars are permitted to be on the street. Only enforcement vehicles. Pull over at once,” said the soldier. Clara did not pull over. She pulled her mirror out and flipped it open, concentrating on her father as she did so.
“Pull over now!” the soldier said again. A second vehicle, a military jeep, had appeared behind the police car now.
“Clara, I’ve been trying to get—”
“I’ve got a cop car and an army jeep behind me. What should I do?” she said frantically, shouting over him.
“Oh, Jesus,” Arthur said, clearly agitated. “The cop car, is it a Cedarstone one?” he asked.
“Uh…” she looked in her mirror and saw that it was. “Yes.”
“Then it probably won’t be protected from magic, but the jeep will. Attack the police car. Where are you? I’ll come and help you.”
“No. You don’t need to be in danger too,” she said and shut the mirror before he could argue. He tried calling her back but she ignored him and put the mirror away. No sooner had she done so when the first bullet smashed a hole in her rear window and embedded itself in the dashboard. She nearly screamed.
“This is your last chance!” the soldier said.
“You’re supposed to give a last chance before you fire!” Clara screamed. Then she hit the accelerator and sped off down the road. As expected both tails followed suit. She waited until they were both going a suitable sped and then she attacked. Using as much strength as she could she erected a barrier spell. The police car hit it and the bonnet crumpled as it came to an abrupt halt. The jeep ploughed into the police car’s rear forcing it to crumple even more as it was forced further into the barrier. Clara hit the accelerator and tore around the next corner, skidded to halt and jumped out of her car. She couldn’t take it home now they’d seen it. She ran down the nearest alley. She could hear vehicles in the street behind her and knew that more soldiers had come.
“Down this alley!” someone shouted and she heard heavy footsteps running behind her.
She turned the corner, but the alley was too long and narrow. If she kept running now then they’d follow her around the corner and she’d be the easiest prey imaginable. She couldn’t fight them off, which left only one option. She jumped up, grabbed the top of the wall and hauled herself up and over, landing firmly in someone’s back garden. She wasted no time and charged up to the back door. Without knocking she blasted the lock and forced entry into the house. She was in a kitchen looking at a startled woman who had been cutting some carrots. Clara raised a finger to her lips and pleaded with her eyes for the woman to stay quiet. Thankfully, the woman obliged and after several minutes Clara assumed the soldiers had gone by.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” she said, panting heavily.
“Who are you running from?” the woman asked. “You’re not infected are you?” she added, panicked.
Clara laughed. “No, no I’m not infected. Listen, I’m going to give you some advice. This town is going to turn into a war zone soon. Like really soon. They’ll be evacuating people over the next few days. As soon as you get that option, take it.” Having given her warning Clara let the house via the front door and ran home. Despite telling him not to come, Arthur found her two streets over and he had Toni and Marlon with him. Clara was so glad to see them she didn’t even complain that they’d put themselves in danger.
“What is there to think about?” Toni demanded. Once back at the house Kegan had told them that the pack needed time to consider the alliance.
“Some of them think that if they just keep their heads down they’ll be left alone,” Kegan replied.
“That’s bull. Doesn’t the alpha get to make the decisions and the rest just follow his orders?” said Dean. “We only need to convince the alpha.”
“That’s the problem. There isn’t an alpha.”
“How can there not be an alpha?” said Clara.
“The pack rules state that an alpha can only be declared on a full moon,” said Kegan. “At the next full moon the candidates will fight it out.”
“Hang on,” said Arthur. “I witnessed an alpha fight in the middle of the day once.” He’d been there with Nick, just days after Nick had murdered the previous alpha.
“It was different then. Eric Royce was of the last alpha’s blood. He overrode the Pack laws. This time there is no alpha to override those laws,” explained Kegan.
“Well how long do we have to wait then?” demanded Arthur, infuriated. He’d been hoping to have two allies by this evening, instead he had a Pack unable to decide and a Clan too arrogant to care.
“A couple of days,” said Kegan.
“Then we have to rescue Richie,” said Clara. It was their only option.
“We do that, we’ll be at war with Ramsay,” said Marlon. “The Coven can’t win that war. Not if we’re fighting the council.”
“It’s not actually the council,” said Arthur.
“If it looks like the council and it smells like the council and Eloise fucking Cultrum is leading it, then it’s the council,” snarled Marlon.
“We’ll only be at war with Ramsay if we fail to rescue Richie,” said Clara, returning to her point.
“First, we will fail,” said Marlon. “Second, even if we rescue him that doesn’t mean the Clan will switch sides. And even if they do they’ll still have to fight Ramsay and the Cult of Osiris. By the time that war’s over we’ll all be dead at the hands of the council.”
“Well we can’t just do nothing,” she said sullenly. It was annoying that he was right.
“We’re not,” said Arthur. “We’re waiting for the Pack.”
“But what if they say no. We can’t fight the council on our own,” she pressed. “We will need the vampires so we might as well prepare for that eventuality.”
“The Coven cannot risk war with the vampires,” Marlon said, growing frustrated with Clara’s obstinance. The feeling was mutual.
“I’m not a member of the Coven. I can do what I want and it won’t lead to war,” said Clara.
“Ramsay won’t see it that way and you know it.”
>
“Enough,” Arthur said and they both fell silent. “I think we can afford to wait a day or two for the Pack to decide. I’ve cloaked this house and the rest of the Coven have done the same to their houses. The council won’t be able to get to us. Until we hear back from the Pack we do nothing,” he said firmly.
“Dad, you—”
“No, Clara,” he said in a voice Clara hadn’t heard for many years. It made feel thirteen years old again. She blushed red as she fell silent. “We wait,” he said and then strode out of the room.
Chapter 10
They waited. Over the next couple of days things happened as expected. Bradley delivered his speech which was broadcast to every television in town, it was the only thing the television sets were able to pick up and they played it on a loop. All updates from the town hall would be delivered in the same way. Citizens were being evacuated just like Bradley had said. One street at a time they were picked up and escorted out. A werewolf had attempted to leave town on one bus load which had resulted in the entire bus full of people being gunned down. Eloise wanted no witnesses to her abhorrent crimes. Bradley had told them all about it on the evening of the first day of the evacuations.
Whilst they waited Arthur used the time to teach Clara as much as possible. He’d been deprived of teaching her magic for too long and now he was going to make up for lost time. Although she would’ve been happier being out doing something about Eloise she wasn’t going to turn down the chance to learn. There was so much she didn’t know about using magic and she found that learning from her father was a lot faster and easier than learning from other teachers had been.
“Can’t you teach me to teleport? That would be useful,” said Clara after she successfully conjured lightening. Arthur was impressed that she’d picked it up so quickly, it had taken him months to achieve.
“Sorcerers can’t teleport,” he said.
“Well that’s not true. Nick can, James can, in fact all the Thirteen can. Is it just a warlock thing?”
Arthur shook his head. “Most warlock can’t either. Teleportation has always been a primordial power. Ancients and jinn,” he added when he saw her look of confusion. “My guess is, Nickolas learned it from them, having spent time around both, and passed the skill on to his disciples.”
“So one of them could teach me?” she asked.
“Yes, but I’d rather you stayed well away. Look what happened last time we went near Nickolas. Let’s move on. The most powerful spell a sorcerer can cast is a ray of pure magic. It is so powerful that it can obliterate most opponents. Only incredibly powerful beings can survive a blast from a Power Ray spell.”
“How do I do it?” Clara asked eagerly. A spell that could obliterate Eloise would be incredibly handy. They had to find a way to subvert the iron bracelets first.
“It’s like when you conjured the lighting. Same thing. It just takes a bit more effort.” Arthur raised both hands and concentrated. A ray of dazzling yellow light shot out of his palms and turned his desk chair to ash. “As you can see, its effect speaks for itself.”
“Okay,” said Clara, already eager to copy him. She mimicked his hand gesture and then concentrated. Silvery light flickered from her hands but rather than being a thick ray like Arthur’s it morphed into lightning. The lightning hit the desk and singed it before vanishing.
“You’re on the right track. Let’s keep practising.”
For the next two hours Arthur tried to teach Clara to do it properly, but she made no progress.
“Enough of this!” Clara snapped after her latest failed attempt. “This is the second day we’ve wasted when we could be doing something. We should be winning the vampires to our side, not dithering with spells I’m never going to be able to perform!” Her face was red with frustration.
“We’re not dithering, we’re being smart,” he said calmly. “Charging around without a sufficient plan and without sufficient manpower will get us all killed. Clara, how often have you gone charging around with only half a plan? And where has that got you?” He wanted her to remember her death at Nickolas’ hands but he wasn’t cruel enough to actually say it.
“Be honest, Dad. You’re scared,” she said and shrugged condescendingly. “Just like when this town was cursed and you chose to do nothing for years.”
Arthur couldn’t believe the callousness with which she spoke. “You were a child. You don’t know… I tried to fight and my dad was murdered. My mother. Your mother. They threatened you too. I was scared I was going to lose the one thing I had left,” he said. He was barely able to contain his own anger. How dare she stand there and call him a coward.
“This time is different. This time we’re going to be attacked either way. We can’t afford to wait around, Dad. There is no Nickolas Blackwood to save the day this time. Nobody is going to come and break the curse for you. We have got to take action.”
She was right. He’d been waiting for the Pack to announce their aide and come rushing to help them. But still, it would be foolish to act without at least hearing their response. He was about to respond when he felt a burning in his pocket. The mirror wasn’t in there, though. He reached in and found a small sheet of paper, glowing with magic. He unfolded it and read the note:
Arthur, we should talk. Come to the place where all this began.
Adam.
Adam was finally ready to see reason. He was willing to talk which meant he might want to come back to the Coven. He might even be willing to give up the Montford magic.
“I need to go out. We’ll talk about this when I get back. Do not leave this house,” said Arthur, hastily heading for the door, ignoring Clara’s protestations. As he reached the door he turned back. “Here, swap with me,” he said, taking out his mirror.
“Why?” she asked, curiosity overriding her anger as she complied.
“Because, something might happen to me and then this mirror would be lost. You’ll have to act as the hub while I’m gone.” He took Clara’s mirror and then went to meet Adam.
The place where it all began. That could only mean the bunker in which they’d found Nickolas Blackwood. Retrieving Nick had been the first move in the game which had led them right up to now, though thinking of everything that had happened as a game was rather distasteful and Arthur silently reprimand himself for doing so.
Getting into the bunker was far easier now that he had magic. He’d been able to force the overgrown foliage concealing the bunker to part down the centre so he could walk through unimpeded. As he stepped into the room at the end of the short corridor he looked around with nostalgia. It hadn’t been a pleasant task but it had resulted in the breaking of the curse. And Arthur’s death. But that didn’t matter, he was alive again now. The seven swords which had been buried in Nickolas’ abdomen were still discarded on the floor of the damp room. Arthur crouched down and touched the hilt of one of them, remembering how disgusting it had been to pull it from a man’s chest.
“It’s hard to imagine that such a simple room could’ve held Nickolas Blackwood for half a century, isn’t it?” said Adam from behind. Arthur stood up and turned slowly to face him. He looked rough. His hair was wild and unkempt, his beard was shaggy and tramp-like and his complexion was oily and pale.
“I think the swords may have helped,” said Arthur quietly. “I’m glad you reached out to me, Adam.”
“Hm,” said Adam, giving Arthur a small smirk that was anything but friendly. “I wouldn’t exactly say I was reaching out. I just want to… talk.” Arthur could hear a rough quality in his tone, like he was holding back a surge of anger. He brought a shield spell to the front of his mind just in case.
“I’ve missed you,” said Arthur, though it gained no reaction from Adam. “You were always the one I could rely on in times like these.”
“When were we ever in times like these?” Adam said, his smirk growing. “I know we were always at odds with the council but this is something else, isn’t it? A genocide. Plain and simple.”
“Yes, you’re right, which is why I need you. I need you to help me. Be my friend Adam,” pleaded Arthur.
“I was more than willing to stand with you and be your friend. You opposed me, though.”
“Because you’ve been tainted by warlockry.”
Adam gave a short laugh. “Tainted by warlockry,” he repeated. “I wonder, will I always be tainted by warlockry?”
“No,” Arthur said and shook his head. “Not if you destroy that athame and give up that magic.”
“I’m more useful with the magic, surely?” said Adam. Arthur would never admit it, but Adam was right.
“The Coven will never accept you whilst you have the Montford Magic inside you,” said Arthur slowly.
“The Coven is mine!” snapped Adam and he took an angry step forwards. “They’ll accept whatever I tell them to!”
“You sound like a true warlock now,” Arthur said in pity.
“I have never stolen magic, not my whole life!”
“Receiving stolen goods is as bad as stealing them.”
Adam looked like he was about to respond but then he snorted and looked away. “It wasn’t just the room which held Nickolas, you know? When he got trapped here, by your father and his companions, they used a magical cage. Created using very powerful crystals. These cages were designed by beings far powerful than mere sorcerers. They were designed to hold the most volatile of enemies. When Benjamin Larcen discovered Nickolas and connected him to his curse, I assume that he broke the cage open.” Adam pointed at the floor. “As you can see, three of the crystals are here, but the final one, the one needed to complete the cage is missing. My guess is Benjamin took it. Or maybe he destroyed it when he opened the cage. Who knows?” He spoke as if he was giving a tour at the museum.
“Who cares?” asked Arthur, wondering what point Adam was trying to make.
“Well, I did. I noticed the trap when we rescued Nickolas. I was fascinated, but far too preoccupied with vomiting to fully realise what I was seeing.” Adam looked down at the crusty puddle of aged vomit by his feet.