And then he was gone.
Emily lay awake for ages, comfortable and warm but just on the edge of sleep. The full moon shone through the window and bathed all in a magical blue light that competed with the warm glow of the fire.
She got up off the bed and walked over to the window, staring out at the moon-drenched landscape. Ornamental bushes pruned into spheres and pyramids, a wide stone pathway leading to an arboretum of mixed trees. Conifers, Willows and Oaks, their leaves and branches bleached to dark blues and grays by the moon’s luminescence.
A sudden movement amongst the trees caught her eye.
A shadow loomed and then disappeared. She concentrated on the area, scanning from left to right, searching for another glimpse of whatever it was that had attracted her attention.
And then she saw it. A fleeting glance of no more than a fraction of a second as it moved through the trees, running with unbelievable speed and grace.
The largest wolf that she had ever seen. Easily as tall as a horse.
Emily searched again but could see no further sign of it. And after a minute or more of fruitless staring, she began to doubt her own eyesight. The wolf, if indeed that was what it was, had been impossibly large. Surely it must have been a trick of the light. Probably a stray dog, or fox even. The moon had simply cast a large shadow that had rippled through the trees and made it look like a huge running wolf.
Yes, that must be it, she debated with herself.
She went back to bed and lay down. But, as the night wore on and before she found sleep, she knew deep down that what she had seen was no illusion.
Chapter 20
Lord Byron stared out of the window. The garden was lit by a gibbous moon and, to his immortal eyes it was as if it were the brightest summer’s day. If he concentrated slightly he could hear the field mice scurrying though the long grass, the fox in his den and the soft whisper of a badger slipping through the brush.
Above he sensed an owl and, just for a moment, he melded his mind with that of the nighttime raptor and spent a few seconds looking at the earth from a height of over two hundred feet.
He could also smell the human that stood behind him.
He could hear the rushing of his blood, the breath hissing in and out of his lungs, the thud of his heartbeat. And from these physiological signs he could judge the human’s emotions.
As always he was surprised. There was little or no fear there. Heart rate slightly elevated. Breathing normal. Stance comfortable but still respectful. Not relaxed but calm. The only emotion that came off the human in such strong waves that it was almost a palpable thing, was its ambition. And its lust for power and respect.
He turned to face him.
‘Young Nathan Tremblay,’ he said. ‘This is our third meeting yet still I struggle to fully accept your new found loyalty to the Nosferatu. I ask myself, why would a Shadowhunter change ships in such a drastic fashion. Why would one throw away a hundred years of a chosen profession just like that?’ He snapped his fingers to accentuate his point.
Nathan bowed his head in acknowledgement to the vampire’s concerns. ‘I understand, my lord,’ he said. ‘But you must know, being a Shadowhunter was never a chosen profession.
I was born into it, much as a slave is born into his role in life. It was an assumption made by genetics. However, it was never something that I felt strongly about. What gives one faction the right to decide that another is evil?
What makes the Olympus Foundation correct?
It is mere semantics.
And, for many years, I was relatively happy with my lot. As a Hunter we were revered. Respected amongst the upper echelons of government and high society. But those days have long passed. Nowadays to gain respect one has to be a reality television star, or a victim with a story of abuse and exploitation. A woman giving birth to her child on national television, or a mediocre singer with a sorry childhood. Talent has become a misnomer and fame has taken the place of true worth. And for this we are expected to lay down our lives? Truth be told, my lord, modern society sickens me. Humanity needs to be controlled and who better to do that than the Nosferatu?’
‘So, my child,’ said Byron. ‘You seek power?’
‘I have made no secret of that, my lord,’ agreed Nathan.
Byron stood silent for a while. ‘You have shown your loyalty, I suppose,’ he conceded. ‘You did help to set up the destruction of your colleague, Miss Hawk. However, you blundered by hopelessly underestimating her capabilities and that mistake cost the lives of four of our brethren.’
‘And for that I am most distressed, my lord. I had no idea that she was so proficient.’
‘Even more reason that she must be taken out,’ said Byron.
‘Yes, sire,’ agreed Nathan. ‘And as I have informed you, she is now with the English nobleman, Sir William.
This time the team that you are sending to assure her demise will be successful. No single being could stand against ten brethren; even if some of them are mere Grinders.’
Byron smirked. ‘Do not underestimate the raw strength of the Grinders,’ he advised. ‘They may be simple but their power and dedication is nothing to be sneered at.’
‘I meant no offense, master,’ assured Nathan. ‘I am also confident that the rest of the members of the Foundation shall see their lives end tonight,’ he continued. ‘I have given the Enforcer the codes to the doors and gates of Pankhurst Manor as well as the whereabouts of the cameras and alarms. The team that he is sending there will definitely take the Shadowhunters by complete surprise. Their end is indeed nigh.’
Again the Lord Byron stood silent. Contemplating.
Finally he spoke. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I have decided. You have proved your faithfulness and devotion to the brethren, beyond any doubt. The ceremony shall take place tonight. While the Enforcer teams are out destroying the Olympus Foundation, we shall be creating a fresh life for our newest member. Our first ex-Shadowhunter. The Nosferatu Nathan Tremblay.
And Nathan fell to his knees in supplication to his new master.
Chapter 21
Emily and William had taken an early dinner and now, once again, Em was walking through the endless rooms of the manor house. Exploring while William made his night time calls to the various markets around the world.
This time she found herself in yet another massive reception room, the walls filled with large oil paintings of the Townsend men throughout the ages.
And every one of them looked remarkably like William. Or, she supposed, to be more accurate, he looked like them.
She was looking at one portrait in particular. Major William Townsend circa 1815. Dressed in a scarlet, long tailcoat with a gold star on each shoulder. Tight fitting white tights, long black boots, a saber, a flintlock and a bicorne hat. The resemblance was uncanny, right down to the shy smile and the muscular build.
As Emily was staring, one of the ancient retainers walked by the open door, she peered in and smiled, an almost toothless grin.
‘Good evening, young miss,’ she said. ‘I see that you are admiring the paintings of the master.’
‘Yes,’ smiled Emily. ‘I must say, the family resemblance is remarkable.’
The old lady looked puzzled. ‘I’m not sure that I understand, my lady. The master has always looked like that. As you can see in that one there,’ she pointed at the painting of the major. ‘That’s always been one of my favorites. That was done just after he returned from the war after giving that Napoleon chap a good drubbing.’
Emily raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sorry, what are you saying?’
‘The master,’ repeated the old servant. ‘He’s looked just like that for as long as I can remember and I’ve been in his service for over seventy years now.’
Emily did a double take. ‘But that’s impossible,’ she said, her face pale with shock.
‘Oh dear,’ wailed the old lady. ‘You didn’t know. Oh dear…it’s not my fault,’ she cried. ‘The master didn’t warn us. He should hav
e told. Oh that naughty man.’
Right then William walked in. He took a look at Emily’s face and then old lady and he sighed.
‘I’m so sorry master,’ wailed the old girl. ‘You didn’t tell us that she didn’t know.’
William smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Winifred, I’ll take care of this. You go make sure that Emily’s fire in her bedroom is lit.’
Winifred bowed, shuffled off and closed the door as she left, her face a picture of contrition.
Emily’s expression, on the other hand, was a combination of righteous anger and disappointment.
‘Right,’ she said, her voice husky with emotion. ‘You had better do some bloody quick explaining Sir William, or whatever your name is. And this had better be good.’
‘Look, Emily,’ stated William. ‘It’s not what you think.’
‘How do you know?’ Shouted Emily. ‘How could you possibly know because you don’t know what I’m thinking you… ?’ She searched for a suitable word. ‘You – bum hole.’
William stopped mid flow and raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? Bum hole?’
Emily shrugged. ‘I’m not good with swear words,’ she admitted.
‘But, bum hole,’ repeated William. ‘It’s so juvenile.’
‘Oh I’m so sorry,’ quipped Emily. ‘We can’t all be twenty thousand years old,’ she pointed at the paintings as she answered. ‘We can’t all have been alive since the bloody dinosaurs. Some of us are just infantile, immature babies who’ve only been alive for eighteen years.’ She stamped her foot. ‘You shit head.’
William nodded. ‘Well, okay. As far as cussing goes, that one was a little better. Listen, my dearest,’ he continued. ‘I promise that I can explain. But first there are a few things that I need to show you.’
He held out his hand and waited for Emily to take it.
After a few seconds she shook her head. ‘No holding hands,’ she said. ‘First you explain. And then I decide if I ever want to talk to you again. Ever.’
‘Right,’ conceded William. He rolled his head on his neck, took a deep breath to prepare. And then he stopped and stood stock still, head tilted to one side, eyes squinted in concentration.
‘What?’ Asked Emily. ‘What’s wrong?’
Without answering William sniffed the air like a dog, moving his head from side to side as he did so.
‘Okay,’ stated Emily. ‘This is getting creepy. What the hell is going on?’
‘Dammit,’ growled William. ‘What the hell are they doing here?’ He turned to face Emily. ‘Look, we’re going to have to talk about this later. We have a big problem. Quickly, you need to hide.’
‘Wait,’ demanded Emily. ‘Who is here? You had better tell me what the hell is going on or I’m not going anywhere. And don’t think that you can get out of an explanation by simply coming over all weirdo on me.’
William grabbed her by the arm. ‘I’m sorry, Em,’ he said. ‘But it’s for your own safety.’ He started to walk off, pulling her by the arm. But instead, Emily pulled back, lifting him off his feet and yanking him back towards her.
He looked at her with an astonished expression on his face. ‘What the…? That’s impossible. No one that size can be that strong.’
‘Well obviously that assumption isn’t correct,’ snapped Emily. ‘So I advise you to start doing some explaining and quickly.’
William shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, my darling,’ he said sadly. ‘But it’s too late.’
As he spoke the door burst open.
Ten vampires stalked into the room, their fangs already extended, lips pulled back and claws bared.
Emily sprinted to the wall and pulled off a saber that was mounted next to one of the paintings. She ran her thumb along the blade and was pleased to see that it was still sharp.
‘Get behind me,’ she shouted at William as she moved towards the blood suckers.
The group of vamps laughed as they fanned out and advanced on her, hissing and screeching.
Then next to her she heard a tremendous roar and the vamps pulled back in surprise. Emily turned to look at the source of the savage noise to see William tearing his shirt off as he rapidly swelled in size. Hair started to sprout from his body and, as she watched, his face elongated, growing a muzzle and fangs.
He fell to all fours as the final remnants of his clothing were rent from him.
And suddenly there was no longer William. Instead, there stood a wolf the size of a horse.
He threw back his head and howled. The sound affected Emily on a visceral level. An atavistic call of the wild.
Without warning the wolf sprang forward and, moving with unbelievable grace and speed, he attacked the vampires. He landed on top of the leading vamp and, with a savage wrench, tore the creature’s head off with one blood drenching bite.
Using the vampires’ confusion, Emily leapt into the fray, brandishing the blade with all of her Shadowhunter enhanced strength. The old blade wasn’t silver coated but it could still chop heads off, if wielded with enough power. And Emily was possessed of that power.
She lopped off a blood suckers head and then spun onwards, moving all of the time.
Striking and cutting without pause or conscious thought as she moved in perfect tandem with William/Wolf. Together they danced an intricate ballet of death and dismemberment.
In the periphery of her vision, Emily noticed two elderly male servants enter the room carrying large crossbows. She heard the thump of the bows being discharged and two vampires fell screaming to the floor. Emily realized that the bolts must be silver impregnated and, taking advantage of the blood suckers’ agony; she chopped down at them, removing their heads with two mighty blows.
She spun again, searching for her next victim.
But the attack was over. Dismembered and decapitated bodies lay strewn around the room. Blood ran down the walls and dripped from the ceiling.
And standing in the middle of the room was the wolf that used to be William.
That still was William.
Emily dropped the sword and walked slowly up to the animal. The wolf looked back at her with William’s eyes. She went right up to him and threw her arms around his neck.
The wolf pushed back at her with his head, growling softly as he did so.
Then he pulled back and started to shift. His fur receded. He shrank down to his former size. And there he stood. In front of her.
Naked.
Emily ran her gaze over him. The broad muscles of his chest, the bulging shoulders and biceps. The chiseled abs. And lower… she blushed.
William grinned, winked and left the room.
As he walked past the two servants they dropped to one knee, their heads held downwards in respect.
Emily followed him.
Chapter 22
A single black candle guttered in the corner, the shaky orange flame seeming somehow to enhance the darkness rather than do anything to alleviate it. On a marble slab lay a naked body. Arms by its sides, hair greased back into a short ponytail. In a circle around the alter stood six elder vampires. The elite of the United Kingdom chapter of the Nosferatu.
Lord Byron stepped forward and approached the body.
Then with shocking savagery and a total lack of ceremony he bit into its neck. The person on the slab screamed out in agony as blood pumped from the jagged wound, flowing down his chest and arms and legs.
With a final shake of his head, Lord Byron tore a chunk of flesh from the victim and then stood back, once more a part of the circle of elders.
The body jerked spasmodically a few times, heels drumming against the marble once, twice, thrice. Then a death rattle gurgled from its ruined throat and it lay still.
Dead.
‘Will he reanimate?’ Asked Cromwell the Enforcer. ‘And if so, will he become a Grinder?’
‘He will reanimate,’ confirmed Lord Byron. ‘I could taste his power. You see, Enforcer, he is already very old. And, strictly speaking, he is not even human. I have a feeling that
he will be a great asset to our chapter and to our movement.’
‘I still wonder if he can he be trusted?’ Questioned the Enforcer.
‘Oh yes,’ answered the lord. ‘He is sick of playing the underdog. He yearns for the power and influence that he once had. And the lust for power is a far stronger drive than either love or hate. Believe me, he will become one of our greatest resources. Already he has shown his loyalty and dedication. And, thanks in part to him, by the end of this day we will be stronger than ever before. We shall be almost unchallenged. An unstoppable force.’
There was a scream and a howl as the dead body twitched into animation and the new aspirant stood up.
He glanced around at the circle of elders and he smiled, his fangs sliding out like two ivory daggers, his neck wound already healed into a ragged pink scar.
‘Incredible,’ breathed Lord Byron. ‘Instead of taking hours to heal and change he literally took a matter of minutes.’
The new Aspirant walked over and knelt before the lord. ‘My lord. I am your servant.’
Lord Byron Nodded. ‘And it is with love and honor that I accept you into the house of Byron. Stand, Nathan Tremblay, former Shadowhunter, and take your place at my side.’
Chapter 23
The Bentley Continental GT8 belted along at over one hundred miles an hour. It was still night time. After the vamp attack, Emily and William had cleaned themselves up. Then Emily tried to contact Ambros to tell him about the attack. But she was unable get hold of anyone. The landline to Pankhurst Manor was down and no one answered their cell phones.
William agreed with Emily that they should proceed to Pankhurst as quickly as possible.
‘You lied to me,’ snapped Emily.
‘No,’ refuted William. ‘Well, perhaps, but only thorough omission. Never an outright lie. I would never do that to you. Ever.’
Emily Shadowhunter - Book 1: VAMPIRE HUNTER Page 9