The Turned

by A A Mize

  “What’s her game?” Horus asked.

  “I don’t know. She said she only wanted me,” Rowan admitted. “I knew it was a lie, and yet I was powerless against her.”

  “What do ye mean, ye were powerless?”

  “Long ago, when we were lovers, Yvette and I…”

  “You shared blood with her?” Samiell asked, his shaggy white brows arched high over his eyes.

  “Yes,” Rowan said, shamefully. “It was a mistake, and so far my burden to bear. I never thought she was capable of all this.”

  “How could ye, lad? Didn’ I teach ye how dangerous that is?” Horus bellowed.

  “I loved her,” Rowan shot, his dark eyes burning into Horus’s. “Of course I let my guard down and I suffer for it.”

  “And me,” Matthias said, drawing his bloodshot blue eyes wearily up to his Mentor. “I thought she was human. She tricked me. I fed from her and once I was drugged, she cut me and tasted my blood.”

  Silence fell over the room. No words were required to convey the emotions emanating from them all. Two. Now she had two of them under her control, and although her hold over Matthias wasn’t likely to be as strong as her hold over Rowan, it was still a point of concern.

  “She’s behind it all,” Rowan said. “All of this. I don’t know why or how, but this is all her doing. Rachel’s death, Matthias’s attack, the Rogues in the Square.”

  “What now?” Sophie asked.

  Rowan’s eyes met hers and he found himself speechless. He didn’t know what to do next and he wished she didn’t put so much faith in him for an answer. He didn’t even know how to defeat Yvette. How could he formulate a plan against her? Luckily, his cell phone saved him from answering her question right away.

  Rowan turned his back to the group as he answered it. The voice from the other side, was not one he had ever expected, but it brought with it news far direr than he expected.

  “Walker?” he began, only to be cut off by the lieutenant yelling into the phone. Ignoring the expletives the officer was spewing, Rowan got the point:

  Rogues were loose in the Quarter.

  47

  “Let me come with you.” Matthias pleaded, standing on shaky legs. It reminded Sophie of how he had pled the same way before Rowan had been attacked in the Square. In that moment, things were no different than they had been. All she could do was stand back and do nothing. She was useless again.

  “No. You’re still high on whatever Yvette shot you up with. I’ll gather the others on the way. Stay here with Sophie, Samiell, and Sarah and keep them safe.” Rowan shoved his arms into the sleeves of his coat and turned to leave.

  “I’m going,” Matthias steadied himself. He was determined. “I told myself I’d never let Yvette lay a hand on Sophie again and I ended up giving her everything she needed to do so. I’ll just walk if you leave me here.”

  “Fine,” Rowan relented.

  “Rowan, take this,” Samiell said. In his hand was a dagger in a simple black sheath. “It’s silver-plated. Not very strong but it’s a rare blade and it’ll do the job. Don’t lose to her. Don’t give in.”

  Without hesitation Rowan took the dagger and Sophie wondered if he could use it against Yvette. She remembered what he had told her about being wounded by silver but that wouldn’t do him any good if he hesitated. It was obvious that Yvette plagued him, but he had also admitted that he couldn’t control himself around her. There was a good chance that he would fail, and she would use the blade on him.

  Concern tugged at Sophie’s heart and every memory of Rowan flashed through her mind, lingering on the night before when his cool breath had graced her shoulder, his hair tickling her flesh. He had been close enough that she could smell a cool earthy scent on him she had never noticed before and she found she didn’t want him to go. Even if she couldn’t stay with him once he returned, all she wanted was to see him again. But still she couldn’t make herself go to him; to embrace him. Her heart beat loudly in her ears and her mouth went dry as she thought of wrapping her arms around him and begging him to stay. Stay with her and let someone else handle the Rogues. Yet for all her desire to do so, her body was frozen in place.

  Their eyes met only briefly, and she felt something push into her mind. Words too faint to hear, but an emotion with them overwhelming and she knew Rowan had planted it there. It was sorrow, and longing, a soft apology. This was unavoidable. He had to do this to protect them all and to free himself. Sophie swallowed her tears and nodded silently to Rowan. A small smile curved his lips and weak as it was, Sophie treasured it. If he never came back, she wanted to remember him as he was.

  Within moments Rowan, Horus, and Matthias were racing toward the city. Soon a police escort met them and led them the rest of the way, sirens blaring, clearing traffic as best they could as nosy tourists looked on with nearly obsessive interest.

  Rowan’s hand gripped the wheel tightly as they came to the border of his territory and he could see the police tape roping off the area as far down the street as he could see and toward the river. Had they really sectioned off the entire Quarter?

  Before Rowan had time to open his own door, Lieutenant Walker yanked it open, his face red with anger but he gritted his teeth. Rowan’s fists tightened around the steering wheel as Walker began to yell at him.

  “Where the hell have you been? Damn Turned scum. Can’t you handle your own kind?”

  “I suggest ye get out of his face,” Horus said from the passenger seat.

  Walker’s face blanched, mouth falling open an instant before he backed up and Rowan rose from the car. It was a pleasure to see Walker realize what he’d gotten into. Mouthing off to Rowan was one thing but getting on the bad side of the Elders was something that not even Walker would want for himself.

  “We’ve evacuated as many people as possible but there are still a lot of civilians in there,” Walker said, changing his tone in front of Horus. He pointed toward the heart of the Quarter where Rowan could see an unnatural red glow. “They’ve set fires. We have our best men on it, but we don’t have the means to kill them so get your ass in there and take care of them.”

  “Mamma...” Matthias whispered as he climbed out of the car. “What about Mamma? Francine Benoit. She owns the Crow’s Nest out near Jackson Square.”

  “Sorry, but we weren’t able to get anyone out of that area. There were too many Rogues. And Rowan, were you able to track down that Ivanka woman?”

  “Yes and no. The real Ivanka has been dead for several weeks but my ex Pupil, Yvette is a shape-shifter and stole her form in order to kill Rachel. I won’t be bringing her back to you, however. She is mine to take care of.”

  “Well, you better make sure she suffers. We fished Joel Davis out of the bayou earlier today. His partner broke down and told us that is was Davis who stole Ivanka’s ID. We can only assume she was the one who killed him.”

  “I’m sorry ta hear that,” Horus said. “The Elders’ll get back with ye on it later.”

  “Yeah. Well, I have a job to do. I suggest you do yours,” Walker grumbled before turning and disappearing into a wall of officers splitting up to hold the borders.

  “Yvette’s lost her damn mind,” Horus muttered. “She has to be stopped, lad.”

  “Rowan, I’ve gotta go to the Nest. Mamma’s supposed to be there tonight and if she didn’t get out...” His voice trailed off, his eyes already wandering toward the police line.

  “Go. I see some of the others gathered over there, so I’ll send someone to trail you. I don’t want anyone alone.”

  “I’ll go with him,” Horus said, shrugging off his coat and tossing it into the front seat of Rowan’s car. He popped his knuckles, then his neck, rolling it on his thick shoulders as a smile crossed his lips in an easy arc. “I could use the exercise. Ye gonna handle ’em for me, eh?” he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the Turned who had gathered, Artashir’s massive form standing off to the side of them, an ax clenched tight in his hand.

 
; “Of course. Now go.”

  “C’mon laddie, let yer grandah show you a thing’r two.”

  Rowan watched Matthias and Horus slip under the police line, officers readjusting the aim of their firearms as they passed. The pair disappeared and the group of Turned were watching Rowan, waiting for him. He cleared his throat and neared them, gathering them around him. Every face was familiar to him, either as a Lesser who had sworn loyalty to him, like Artashir, or Leaders and their Lessers from other districts within the Eighth District. He would owe them all favors once it was over.

  “All of this chaos is linked to my former Pupil, Yvette. There’s too much to explain for now, but I must find her and kill her before this will truly end. I need all of you to start in the Square and work your way out. I’ll do what I can as I pass through there but finding her is my main priority. Stay in teams of two at the very least.”

  “What if you’re their target?” Artashir spoke above the crowd, a few nervous Lessers peering up at the beast of a man with awkward glances.

  “Rogues don’t target individuals,” another male scoffed.

  Rasputin, Leader of Iberville.

  Rowan ignored Rasputin’s arrogance and forced himself to remain calm. “Normally, they don’t. But these are no average Rogues. Artashir and I fended them off from around the Square only a few nights ago, and it was easy to tell they had no interest in him at all. I’m certain Yvette has hired them to cause trouble. But she is my burden and I will finish this. Tonight.”

  “Where will you find her?” Tamar asked.

  Rowan’s attention turned to Artashir’s sister, Leader of Marigny. Tamar. Yellow eyes shining in the darkness she was as beautiful and dangerous as ever. It had been one of the reasons he had courted her many years before as he had been drawn like a moth to a flame by her radiance and mystery.

  “I believe she will be at or near my home.”

  “Then it’s a trap?” Tamar asked warily, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Most possibly. But it is my responsibility to get rid of her.”

  The group fell silent and Rowan wished they weren’t all looking at him as if it was the last time they would ever see his face. Without another word, Rowan began the trek across the Quarter toward his home. He could hear the others, hesitating only a moment before springing into action, following him past the police line and into the Quarter.

  It would be many blocks before they would reach the Square and the group traveled in relative silence, all of them listening intently to their surroundings, expecting the enemy to leap out from every shadowed doorway. The sounds of police sirens began to fade and an eerie energy settled over the area. Rowan scanned the Square as the group emerged from a narrow street into the normally crowded space. A dense unnatural fog settled around them and Rowan knew the Square was just as thick with Rogues.

  “Stay together,” he reminded them, feeling Artashir’s presence at his back.

  The Turned Leaders broke off from Rowan and his Lessers, taking their own with them as they disappeared into the fog. Rowan and his Lessers set out toward the south edge of the Square, treading quietly. Sounds of a fight from the other side of the square broke the silence and the night air was filled with the sounds of hissing, cursing, and yelling from Rogues as all hell broke loose.

  A group of Rogues seemed to materialize from the fog from the direction of the river, encircling Rowan’s group. Slowly they moved around, hunched and low like beasts, snapping their fangs at them, even going as far as to lash out at them if they came close enough. The Rogues were toying with them, trying to unnerve them.

  “Kill them all,” Rowan demanded in a low tone, his own fangs visible in the pale light of the moon. His eyes locked onto one Rogue in particular who had met his gaze and refused to break it as he circled around them. His hand went to the dagger at his side, unsure of the weapon. He hadn’t used one is so many years, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to risk the possibility of wielding the weapon clumsily.

  The scene erupted into chaos as the Rogues descended upon Rowan’s Lessers like wild animals, biting and clawing in feral fashion. The one who had locked eyes with Rowan ignored the others and was on Rowan in an instant, knocking into the Leader as hard as he could manage. Rowan caught the man by his shoulders, bracing himself against the blow. He tapped into the other man’s mind, reading his thoughts and reacting as quickly as he could.

  Rowan dodged right as the Rogue threw a punch, then he struck back with a crushing blow to the Rogue’s ribs, feeling them give under his strike. The Rogue cried out in pain and rage, his red eyes boring into Rowan’s and the Leader’s mind was flooded with thoughts of his own demise. A small smirk tugged the corners of his lips as the Rogue charged him again. In his rage his mind was nearly unreadable. The anger that overtook him caused his otherwise clear ideas to turn into pure instinct, the thoughts only passing milliseconds before action, too quickly for Rowan to react. He struck out at Rowan with nails that were sharpened into points like claws.

  Rowan barely had time to jump back but the claws still caught him across the chest, tearing his shirt. A few drops of blood dotted the material, but the Rogue didn’t give pause. He lunged forward again, slashing with the other hand. Rowan threw up an arm to block, the Rogue’s claws slicing though his sleeve before he delivered another crushing blow to the Rogue’s stomach. The creature gasped for air as the wind was knocked out of him. Rowan struck again, quickly, with a downward elbow into the back of the Rogue’s head, forcing him to the ground.

  The Rogue gasped for air on his hands and knees, one arm wrapped around his injured body. He didn’t get the chance to stand before Rowan’s blade sliced his throat in one quick movement. The Rogue’s body slumped onto the grass, blood gushing from the split flesh. He stared up at Rowan a snarl gurgling from his throat before Rowan drove the silver blade into the Rogue’s temple, his eyes fading from red to grey until they went glassy.

  A blow to the back of Rowan’s head dropped him onto the dead body of his assailant. His vision blurred as the pain radiated from the wound, blood seeped into his dark hair. Rowan rolled out of the way as the Rogue who had hit him returned for a second blow with a makeshift club. The world spun wildly as Rowan held up his hands in defense, his vision struggling to focus. He cried out in pain as the club slammed into his palms, his fingers gripping tight to the knobby wood of the weapon to rip it from his attacker’s hands.

  The Rogue straddled him, fighting for the club, but Rowan’s vision was clearing. With a burst of energy, Rowan tore the club away from the Rogue and slammed it into his face. Thick black blood gushed from the open wound and onto Rowan’s hands. The Rogue clutched at his nose, allowing Rowan an opening to deliver another crippling blow to the side of the Rogue’s head. The man fell to the side, head split open. Rowan rolled over to finish the job, but he was too late. Artashir had come to Rowan’s aid, and with one swing of his ax, the Rogue’s head separated from his shoulders.

  The massive man reached out a hand to help Rowan to his feet, the Leader giving a grateful nod as he stood and reviewed the state of his Lessers. They had killed the other Rogues, though many of them were injured from the ordeal. All around them the fog was beginning to lift. Whoever had caused it was dying or dead and soon the Square would be clear of it all together. Sounds of other Turned and Rogues fighting could still be heard loud and clear.

  “Go and help them. I’ll go around the river side and look for Yvette,” Rowan ordered, cleaning his blade on the hem of his shirt.

  The others nodded their understanding and trotted off into the dissipating fog, regaining their bearings before the next fight could begin. Artashir was the only one who remained, his golden eyes staring down at Rowan, his bloodied ax dripping into the grass.

  “I’m going with you,” he insisted.

  “No. I’m sorry, Artashir, but they need you here. Yvette is mine to confront. I need to do this on my own, or how can I ever say I overcame her?”

  Artashir
set his jaw, his massive fists clenched tight at his sides.

  “Go,” Rowan said firmly. Artashir took a deep breath and relented to Rowan’s demand. He took a step back, then jogged off to join the others.

  Rowan stood alone, watching his friend’s form fade away before he turned and ran toward his house. The section of the Quarter closest to the river was relatively quiet, only the sounds of the river lapping against the bank and the faint noise of fighting could be heard.

  At the end of his street, Rowan stopped running. It was darker there. The only sign of light was from his house. Cautiously he approached, eyes locked on the single candle flickering from the window of his study. A chill ran down his spine as he approached. He could already feel her presence.

  It was the same as it had been the last time they had been together; cold and heavy. His breath came out in a small wisp of white when he exhaled. She was angry and that emotion had affected the area around the house. Rowan was beginning to wish he had allowed Artashir to accompany him. What if he couldn’t defeat her? His hand rested on the dagger once more, the same doubts as before clouding his mind. Ready or not, it was time to confront her and end her hold over him.

  Inside, the house was dead silent and nearly pitch-black. Memories followed him like ghosts, causing him to feel uneasy and tense. It was Yvette. She was forcing memories back into his mind. Memories of them and their time in the house, back when she was still the woman he fell in love with. Rowan swallowed hard and began his slow journey up the stairs where he could see the candlelight flickering gently into the upstairs hallway. He hated to admit that his hand trembled around the hilt of the dagger and for all the evil she was, he didn’t want to kill her. He wanted to think there was another way and yet his mind couldn’t conjure one.