by Sean Stone
“What are you doing?” Kegan shouted. His outburst earned him slap round the face from his captor which left a bright handprint emblazoned. His lips curled back in a savage snarl.
“Richie sent you?” the woman said, processing the information. Then she let go of his throat and indicated that the others release him and Kegan. They looked confused, but obliged none the less. Dean strengthened out his jacket and then met her gaze once again. There was a slither of a smile on her face now. “Why didn’t you say Richie sent you for Michael straight away? Follow me. I’ll take you to him. We need to be quick. Ramsay will be back any minute.”
Chapter 27
Olivia was gone. Nick watched her vanish into thin air and he knew that she was never coming back to him. The room started to spin and he grabbed hold of a nearby chair to steady himself.
“Six hundred years…” he mumbled. Six hundred years for nothing. His breathing became ragged as the tears welled up in his eyes. His arm was shaking and he couldn’t stop it. It was like she was dead all over again, only so much worse because this had been her choice. She had chosen to leave him. They were supposed to spend an eternity together. Just them against the world. But she was gone. Gone. His legs failed him and he thudded to his knees. He couldn’t breathe. His airway was closing up. The room around him was barely visible it was spinning and distorted. The walls seemed to be closing in on him. Was this a…? Was he, Nickolas Blackwood, having a panic attack?
Nick took in a deep breath, trying to settle himself. His hand was wet. Sticky. He looked down and saw that the floor was covered in blood. Blood everywhere. Bodies scattered about. The soldiers he’d killed. Should he be sorry? He wasn’t. He was who he was and who he was… who was he? His life’s purpose had been realised and then snatched away from him and now who was he? What did he live for now?
With a furious shriek he released a wave of magic that barrelled out of him, shattering glass and china, splintering wood and making cushions explode in showers of feathers and stuffing. It felt good. Some of the pain was alleviated. He gathered up more magic like taking a deep breath and then expelled it. Fire erupted around him, engulfing furniture and climbing the walls. Fire. The fire felt right. It felt good. Cleansing almost. He walked through the house, burning everything. By the time he stepped outside the house was collapsing behind him and the fire was spreading up the street. Unevacuated residents were running outside, pointing and screaming. Nick lifted his hand, ready to send the fire after them. But no. They were not his enemy. They had not come to kill him. They had not forced him to kill them and made Olivia leave. No. The soldiers had. And why? Because Eloise Cultrum told them to. Eloise was the enemy. The soldiers were the enemy. And it was time he settled the score.
He turned and the first thing he saw was a truck laden with soldiers hurtling up the road towards the inferno. A flick of his wrist was all it took. The truck exploded sending metal, fabric and flesh all over the street. The residents screamed and ran in the opposite direction. Nick walked on through the destruction looking for more soldiers to kill. He didn’t have to go far. Truck after truck, jeep after jeep, car after car. All he destroyed violently, making a charred path right the way up to the town hall.
He reached the bottom of the grey steps leading up to the doors and waited. He could hear the soldiers coming. Twenty or more ran out through the double doors and formed a line at the top of the stairs, rifles pointing down at him. Even beneath all their heavy armour he could see their petrified faces. Their quivering limbs could barely hold the guns straight. These ones would get a more personal touch.
He placed his foot on the first step. They opened fire. Bullet after bullet tore into him, ripping his shirt, puncturing his flesh and though blood poured out he felt nothing. He stood and waited as they shot round after round until they had exhausted their ammunition. Then he waited a moment longer. He called on the power inside him. The solders saw the blackness fill his veins and his eyes turned the colour of fire. Nick saw a dark patch appear on one soldier’s groin. He could smell the piss. Then he charged. Faster than a bullet. He grabbed the first one and tore his head free from his neck. Screams of anger. Screams of terror. Screams of pain. Primal sounds filled the air and the blood ran freely. Nick let the last one fall. He watched the head go tumbling down the steps to join several other abandoned body parts. A groan got his attention and he looked around. One soldier still lived. He’d lost an arm and his legs were hanging uselessly as he dragged himself away from Nick with his remaining arm. Nick walked slowly over to him. He looked down at his quarry. The soldier didn’t bother to look up. He just gave up. Stopped moving and lay still. Nick had no pity for the wretch. He lifted his leg and slammed his foot down on the soldier’s head. Blood and bone exploded over the already bloodstained concrete.
He took a moment to look at the destruction he’d caused before blasting the doors off their hinges and entering the town hall where more soldiers awaited. They died in much the same way the others had, in screaming agony. He climbed the stairs, killing as he went. Soldiers were screaming into radios for back up. Alerting others to what was happening. Good. Let them bring more.
Finally, he reached the Mayor’s office. This was where he would find Eloise. As he approached the door a soldier charged out, firing bullets pointlessly. Nick punched a fistful of magic into his chest and he flew back into the office, exploding in a shower of blood. Then Nick followed him in.
“Eloise Cultrum,” he said silkily.
She was sitting behind her desk, staring hatefully at him. She controlled herself better than a lot of her solders had, but he could still see the ever so slight trembling of her limbs.
“Blackwood,” she said in a strangled whisper.
“How does it feel to be hunted?” he asked her.
“You will be returned to hell soon enough, if not by me than by another,” she promised.
“If only hell was where I came from,” said Nick. “I started out human just like you. And look how monstrous the two of us have become.”
“I see only one monster in this room.”
“And I’ll be the last one you see before you die,” he replied. He lunged forward, grabbed hold of the desk and launched it across the room so nothing was between them. Eloise flew to her feet and darted backwards, back to the wall.
“Get back!” she screamed shrilly, clutching the cross that hung from her neck.
Nick looked at her in amazement and then laughed. “The holy cross. You think that will save you?”
“God will save me,” she said firmly.
“I’ve walked this earth for six-hundred years and the closest thing to a god I have ever found is me,” he said. He placed his hand to her chest and lifted her up the wall so her feet were dangling helplessly. “I could ask you why you want to kill everything that isn’t human, but frankly I don’t care.”
He channelled magic as black as coal into her heart, smiling as he felt it taking hold. She gasped and tiny wisp of smoke escaped her mouth. Her eyes flew wide and watery. She thrashed with her arms and legs, but they stilled within seconds. Only her eye remained alive, staring at Nick in terror and pain.
“I don’t know how involved you were in the curse that robbed me of my magic and accidentally ensured I remained a prisoner for fifty-four years, but I’ll assume you were fairly involved. You were the deputy mayor after all. I’ve given you a little curse of my own. A curse of pure suffering. Do you feel that fiery pain in your heart right now? That’s all you can feel, right? Because I have paralysed you completely. Over the next twelve hours that pain is going to spread gradually, bit by bit, throughout your whole body. Every organ, every nerve will burn and scream. You’ll want to scream, but you won’t be able to. You’ll want to die, but you won’t be able to. Only when every part of your insides have been hit by my curse will death finally come for you. And then you will know that we are even.”
Nick took his hand away and watched her slide helplessly to the floor. As he stepped
out of the office, his revenge complete, he knew that it had done no good. The pain was still there, in his heart. The pain of losing Olivia. None of this would help. All it would do was ensure that she despised him for eternity. She really believed that he could be more. She was the only one who’d ever believed it. Everybody else had always looked down on him. Bolingbroke who had chased him out of England, Set who had used and betrayed him, even Osiris in the short time he had known him had thought… But he could prove them wrong. Prove them wrong and prove Olivia right. It wasn’t too late to do the right thing. Make the right choice. He could win her back yet.
Richie and Jacob walked down the street, surrounded by Cultists, with Ramsay just behind them. They were almost at the club and Richie was sure that he hadn’t given Dean and the wolf enough time to find Michael. Maybe there was some way he could stall their progress. He could just attack Ramsay or one of the Cultists, but then he might push them to kill him or Jacob. That wasn’t a viable option. Maybe if he could annoy Ramsay just enough then Ramsay would stop to torment him a little.
“It must really vex you that I escaped,” Richie said. “Shows how pathetic your security attempts were.”
“Not really,” Ramsay said calmly. “You gave me some unexpected fun. I got to come and fetch you back. And on the subject of security, it didn’t take much effort to take over your Clan.”
Richie clenched his fists. “My Clan is biding its time. The first opportunity they get they’ll turn on you.”
“Is that so? Then why didn’t anyone rush to your side when you escaped?”
“They did,” Jacob said. Richie felt a swell of pride.
“One little weasel. Hardly a great feat.”
Sirens cut through the night, high and shrill. The entire party stopped and turned in bewilderment. There were vehicles approaching and a fair few from the sound of it. The first flashing lights showed up at the end of the road, several more followed. Police cars with trucks and jeeps behind them.
“Looks like it’s time for round two,” said Ramsay, his grin visible even in the dark. “Don’t let him out of your sight,” he said to one of the vampires near Richie.
Richie tensed himself, preparing to fight. The first chance he got he’d kill the one tasked with watching him and make his break for it. He couldn’t believe his luck. Ramsay would hopefully go searching for him allowing Dean plenty of time to find Michael. Luck was not on his side, though. The vehicles shot straight past them, heading toward the town centre. Something big must have been happening for them to have just passed a group of vampires without so much as slowing. Richie looked in the direction they were heading, but could see no signs of trouble.
“What a disappointment,” said Ramsay genuinely. “Oh well, let’s get you home.”
Richie didn’t bother with any more plans to distract him. They didn’t seem to be working anyway. They completed the walk in silence and as they descended the stairs of the nightclub which Richie had owned and lived beneath for decades, he noticed the rapidly feeling of unease in his stomach. It was all going to start again. He’d be injected with more venom, reduced back to that abominable state and toyed with for eternity. He didn’t care about living anymore, death was preferable. Just as he reached the bottom of the stairs he turned and lunged at Ramsay. Ramsay caught him by the throat and then threw him through the door. Richie smashed into the nightclub and then skidded across the floor. He bashed into a table and ground to a halt. He couldn’t even get himself killed, he was too slow to attack Ramsay and goad him into a fight. Richie groaned in despair and rolled onto his front. Before he could push himself up he noticed that it wasn’t a table he’d hit, but a person. He saw the dust coated black shoes and looked upwards. His eyes travelled up the dark trousers, also covered in dust, past the crinkled red shirt and up to the pale snakelike face of Michael Aramaya. Richie shot to his feet and took several steps back. Dean and Kegan were sitting at the bar, helping themselves to the beverages. A few other vampires had gathered in the club, but not many.
The door behind Richie opened again and the footsteps stopped abruptly.
“Michael…” Ramsay said, the smallest hint of fear in his voice.
“Good evening, brother,” Michael replied.
Richie turned and saw Ramsay’s downturned face. Now it was his turn to try and find a way out of the awful predicament he was in. Richie moved out of the way of the two brothers and kept his mouth shut. All he had to do was wait. The brothers would fight, one of them would die and then Richie would take the chance to kill the survivor. After all, Michael had betrayed Richie and sided with Ramsay last time they’d all been in the same room. He could not be trusted.
“Did you have a good nap?” Ramsay said, trying to affect a casual air as he walked across the room to meet his brother.
“Not particularly,” replied Michael. “But it’s about to be remedied.” He pulled a stake from the back of his waistband and brandished it at Ramsay.
“Oh, come now. I only put you to sleep, I didn’t kill you,” said Ramsay, he was no longer advancing.
“Well, I always was smarter than you. Never leave an enemy alive.”
“We’re family. Not enemies,” said Ramsay.
“You made us enemies when you turned on me,” said Michael, he was moving forwards now.
“I turned on you? You turned on me! You and Lydia. Drained me and buried me in the same hole as father!” Ramsay screamed. “Did you think I wouldn’t seek revenge.”
“I betrayed you, you betrayed me. We could go on like this all night. Best to cut it short now.”
Ramsay nodded, his eyes shifting around desperately. “You’re right. You’re right.” He turned to the Cultists behind him. “Kill him,” he ordered. Nobody moved. “I said kill him. Now.”
“I’m the rightful Elder of the Cult. Not you. They won’t listen to you any longer,” Michael informed him.
“You,” Ramsay called to the vampires gathered behind Michael. “You are Clan not Cult. I lead the Clan. Kill him.”
“We answer to Richie,” the blonde woman said, and none of them moved. Richie smiled appreciatively. If only he could remember her name.
“Looks like your brief rule is over,” Richie said.
Ramsay turned with eerie slowness to look at Richie. “Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he said in a low hissing voice.
“Easy there, you’ll get him all excited,” said a new voice and every head snapped over to where it came from.
Sitting at the bar, covered in blood and pouring himself a whiskey was Nickolas Blackwood. Richie could not begin to fathom what had brought the immortal warlock here, but it could be nothing good.
What do you want?” Ramsay spat at him.
“Glad you asked,” Nick said. He downed his drink and then slammed the glass on the bar. “I’m looking for Cain Aramaya. Somebody in this room knows where I can find him. You’ll tell me or I’ll start killing and I’ve been on quite the spree.”
Richie could tell by the blood splattered all over him that he wasn’t lying. He wondered who’s blood it was.
“What do you want with my father?” asked Michael, turning away from Ramsay.
“Who cares?” said Ramsay. He ran at Nick. Nick pointed his finger lazily and Ramsay flew up into the air, arms and legs stretched away from his body. Richie had no idea what Nick was doing to him, but Ramsay was making the most unnatural groaning noises. Blood started to pour from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth. It dripped heavily to the floor. Richie didn’t deny the smile of glee that appeared on his face.
“Do you know where he is? Or would you rather I drain you completely?” Nick asked. He glanced over at Dean and said, “Pour me another drink will you?”
“Fuck off,” Dean muttered.
Nick waved his free hand and Dean’s face smacked into the bar and he slid to the floor unconscious.
“I’ll assume you don’t know,” Nick said to Ramsay. He flicked his finger and Ramsay’s head twisted, snapping
his neck. His body hit the deck heavily.
“I’ll ask again, where is Cain Aramaya?”
“And I’ll ask you again,” said Michael coolly. “What do you want with my father?”
Nick sighed. “Fine. I need to ask some questions about Apophis.”
“Why?” Michael asked, his eyes narrowed.
“Because he’s in town and I’d like to know a few things about him. I suspect that your father knows more than anyone else. He was turned into a vampire with the purpose of defending Osiris from Apophis,” said Nick impatiently.
Michael’s eyes flew open in fright. Richie had never seen him afraid. “Where is my father, Richard?” he said turning on Richie. Great, now Nick knew where the answer was.
“No,” said Richie, shaking his head. He was not going to risk Cain coming after him again.
“Richard, this is too important,” said Michael.
“Tell me or I’ll kill you and everyone else in this building,” threatened Nick.
“Go ahead,” said Richie, still shaking his head.
“Or perhaps, I’ll kill him.” Nick pointed at Michael. “And then I’ll wake up Ramsay and let him loose on you again. I heard you had a good old time with him last time.”
Richie almost shivered at the prospect. He looked at Ramsay’s temporarily dead body. “If I tell you, you take him away and make sure he doesn’t come back,” said Richie.
“My father will ensure he never comes back. If Apophis is back then we have a duty to carry out,” said Michael.
“Alright,” Richie said, nodding. He wasn’t happy about it, but he’d been robbed of the choice. He told them where he’d buried Cain and then watched as Michael threw Ramsay over his shoulder and followed Nick out of the club, the Cultists just behind them. As soon as they were all gone the remaining Clan members cheered.
“That went rather well,” said Jacob. “What now?”
“Now, wake him up,” Richie nodded at Dean. “Let’s get downstairs and discuss how we’re going to clear Eloise and her minions out of my town.”