The Turned

by A A Mize

  He pushed the door open, revealing the willowy form of Yvette sitting with her legs crossed on the back of the couch. She had his journal open on her lap, reading the pages with intense interest. Rowan recalled all of the things he had written in there about her. And about Sophie.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, not taking her eyes from the gold trimmed pages.

  “I see.”

  “You know, I really can’t understand why you would fall for her. I mean, she’s not even that pretty,” Yvette said. Gently she closed the book and tossed it to the floor, bracing her hands on the back of the couch where she sat perched, staring at him. “What was it, Rowan? What about that human caught you so tightly that you can’t love me anymore?”

  “She isn’t the reason I don’t love you and you know that.”

  “She’s the reason you ran me off,” Yvette growled, her fangs grazing her ruby lips as she spoke. Slowly, she rose from the back of the couch and stepped down to approach him.

  “I ran you off because you viciously attacked a human. I can’t have you or anyone else acting like that in my territory. This isn’t about her. It’s about you and me.”

  Yvette drew nearer, and Rowan’s hand tightened around the hilt of the dagger, but he couldn’t make himself draw the weapon. She put her hand over his and drew the blade for him, placing the tip to her throat.

  “You came to kill me. So do it,” she said.

  Rowan pressed the blade against her flesh, drawing a drop of blood to the surface and she winced in pain. Her hold on him wavered only a moment before retaking him full force. If he could only press harder, sever her veins with the silver blade and make her bleed out, it would all be over. He would be free. And yet he couldn’t do it. His hands shook, teeth gritted as tears welled up in his eyes, blade refusing to do as he wished it would.

  A devilish smile curled Yvette’s lips as she reached up and grabbed the blade, pulling it away from her throat. Rowan relinquished his grasp on the weapon, and Yvette tossed it to the floor where it clattered away under the desk. Her fingers grasped his coat and pulled him farther into the study.

  Two figures moved in the shadows of the hallway and Rowan’s attention was pulled to them. How had he not noticed them before? They strode into the room, great hulking Rogues that nearly matched Artashir in size. One blocked the door while the other circled around toward the windows. Rowan was blocked in and nearly defenseless.

  “Let me introduce you to some friends of mine. Meet Samson and Goliath. Twins as you can see...I think their maker could have been far cleverer with their names, but I can see why he chose them.” She circled one of the massive Rogues, examining him, tracing her fingers gently over his chest. “Samson here has a grudge to settle with you over the life of his Pupil.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Samson asked.

  “Get him,” she ordered, and the two Rogues descended upon Rowan.

  All at once the room went black.

  48

  Matthias and Horus fought their way to the Crow’s Nest, leaving a trail of dead Rogues in their wake, but not without a price. The pair were tired, out of breath, and injured. Matthias’s coat was long gone, ripped to shreds and abandoned in the grasp of a Rogue who had clung to it until his dying breath. Dried blood was caked the side of his face and Horus’s right hand was obviously broken, the healing process needing time to mend the bones. The Elder tucked the hand close to his body and followed Matthias around the corner to the dark alley that housed the small bar.

  Matthias’ stomach dropped at the sight of the bar. The shuttered doors were smashed to pieces, some hanging loose on the hinges while others were splintered and littering the walkway. Inside was dark and silent, the glow of the neon signs extinguished apart from one that flickered eerily in the darkness. Fear roiled in Matthias’s belly, but he pressed onward, shaky legs drawing him ever closer to the open doors.

  From there, he could see that the bar was demolished. Glass glistened in the flicker of the neon light, tables and chairs half covered the bodies of patrons who hadn’t evacuated fast enough. The place smelled of death and looking around at the destruction killed something in Matthias. He braced himself on the doorway, Horus at his side.

  “Mamma? Mamma?” he called but there was no answer. He felt he was moving in a dream when he crossed the room, stepping over bodies and broken furniture until at last he stood at the end of the bar, terrified to look behind the counter.

  “Matthias...” Horus said from the door. “Maybe… maybe ye should come outta there.”

  Matthias glanced back at him, desperation in his eyes. He knew she was supposed to be there and yet he couldn’t see her and the room was silent, without even a heartbeat to guide him. The only place left was behind the bar and Matthias had never been so terrified of anything in his life. Deep breath, he stepped forward, boots crunching on glass as he peered around the counter.

  Immediately his eyes closed and his teeth ground down hard, his breath caught in his lungs and burned like fire. His hands gripped tight to the counter as he tried to steady himself from what he saw. Grief wrapped her icy claws around his heart and he fell to his knees at the end of the bar, unable to cope with Mamma being gone. He wished he hadn’t looked. He wished the memory of her smiling face hadn’t been tainted by what lay behind the bar.

  Horus approached Matthias, extending a hand to place it on his shoulder. But Matthias didn’t want his sympathy. He wanted Mamma. When Horus’s hand touched him, energy transferred from him and into Horus. The Elder withdrew as if he had been shocked, stepping away from Matthias as he rose to his feet. The young Turned’s eyes burned red with rage and his fangs were revealed in a disturbing sneer, lips pulled back like some beast despite the tears that streaked his bloodied face.

  A Rogue, unfortunate as it was, passed the door of the bar glaring in with a wicked smile which quickly faded when he saw eyes glowing from the darkness, embers of seething hatred. His eyes locked with Matthias and terror replaced the smile.

  Matthias eased forward with slow, deliberate steps toward the Rogue, and yet the creature outside made no move to run. He stood frozen in place as Matthias approached and with every step his face grew more and more contorted with agony.

  By the time Matthias reached the door, the Rogue was choking, gasping for air as an invisible force crushed the life from him. Blood trickled from the corners of his eyes and then from his ears and mouth before he crumpled, dead, to the earth. Matthias could hear Horus take a few steps away from him.

  Tears streaked Matthias’s face and as he stepped over the body and into the alley, moon high overhead, he cried out in anger and grief before running off toward the Square where he could hear the others still engaged in battle. He craved blood, revenge for the loss of Mamma.

  Horus stood still in the doorway of the Crow’s Nest, staring at the crumpled corpse of the Rogue who probably had nothing to do with what happened there. Chances were, he was passing by on his way to the Square…wrong place at the wrong time. He could feel the sorrow and anger that dripped from Matthias like ink dissipate.

  Horus pulled out two sets of brass knuckles and slipped them onto his hands, realizing that he needed to up his game to keep up with Matthias. In his state of rage, who knew where Matthias would end up. Horus felt he needed to protect the boy, who was made reckless in his current state, and ensure that he didn’t hurt anyone he didn’t mean to.

  That thought in mind, Horus followed the path Matthias took toward the Square. A scream could be heard from around the corner, and as Horus made the last stride into the Square, he realized where it had come from.

  A Lesser, only a few feet away, had her hand over her mouth and was backing up toward Horus, a bloodied rapier hanging from her grasp. The tip of the blade dragged across the pavement but the Lesser didn’t seem to care.

  “My brother!” she cried, her eyes were locked on Matthias who had a Rogue in one hand, and a Lesser in the other.

  Bodies
of his victims lay around him, but his rage had not subsided. He was a beast on a rampage and he needed to be stopped. Horus was astonished at the amount of destruction Matthias has unleashed in a matter of minutes.

  Matthias screamed in the face of the Rogue, the Lesser on the other side scrambling to release himself from his captor’s grip. Matthias’s hand crushed the Rogue’s throat tighter and blood began to drip from the creature’s eyes; soon he was dead in Matthias’s grasp. Matthias then turned his attention to the Lesser, but all he saw was an enemy. Horus knew he had to find a way to stop Matthias before he killed his innocent victim. If Horus failed, Matthias’s life would be over. He would either have to escape as a Rogue and live eternity in exile, or he would be captured and killed for his crimes by the other Elders.

  “Matthias!” Horus called out, waiting for the boy to stop.

  Matthias dropped the dead Rogue and paused, chest heaving shaky breaths as he looked over his shoulder at the Elder, the Lesser on his knees, gripping Matthias’s wrist as he tried to free himself.

  “I understand yer need for revenge, m’boy, but...ye need to clear yer head. Yer scarin’ people, lad...that poor boy ain’t never hurt ye.” Horus dropped the brass knuckles in his pocket before he approached with a hand outstretched, his voice as calm as he could manage, gesturing toward he Lesser in Matthias grasp.

  Matthias peered around to the other Lessers and a few Leaders that had surrounded him, their weapons drawn. Surely they had never seen a Turned before as enraged as Matthias and the way he was tearing Rogues apart with his bare hands was startling.

  “I’ll rip them all to pieces,” he growled, eyes frantically searching for signs of another Rogue.

  “They’re all gone, Matthias,” Artashir said, stepping up and handing off his massive ax to a Lesser. “There are no more Rogues in the Square.”

  Horus could feel Artashir’s powers altering the mood of the space around them. The other Turned began to relax, dropping their weapons to their sides, releasing tension. Even Horus felt the knot between his shoulders release.

  “They killed Mamma,” Matthias said, his eyes beginning to dim. His voice was less angry than before, and his grip on the Lesser released enough for the poor man to slip away into the waiting arms of his Mentor.

  “I’m sorry for that. Truly, I am. Francine was a good woman and I know she took care of you. But what would she think of you now?” Artashir said, edging ever forward as Matthias’s eyes faded from red back into their natural blue.

  Matthias couldn’t hold up his own weight any longer. He hit his knees and Artashir knelt beside him, his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Let it all out. You can’t help us if you can’t control yourself. Channel that anger, my friend, and let’s clear the Quarter of these vermin.”

  Matthias sat panting on the grass in the Square, unable to gain control of his grief. He shook his head, body trembling from the strain on his mind and body.

  Horus could see his will to fight had gone with his rage. He remembered the feeling well, having lost so many he loved dearly. He remembered the numbness in his chest, the lack of will to live and he couldn’t imagine that Matthias didn’t feel the same way.

  “I can’t,” he wept, shaking his head. “Just leave me here.”

  Artashir peered over at Horus and the Elder knew that he was feeling the shift in Matthias, the depression emanating from him. Artashir had to do something or Matthias would be useless. Horus could only shrug. He had no idea what would motivate Matthias to keep pushing forward but Artashir did. Thick fingers slid under the sugar skull pendent around Matthias’ neck and he spoke in hushed tones.

  “Was this from Sophie? I can feel her energy lingering on it. What about her? She’s your friend, right? She’s not been around long but you two are pretty close...I think she’d like to see you again.”

  Matthias drew a ragged breath, taking the pendant in his palm. He wiped the tears away and forced himself to rise, Artashir’s hand gripping his arm to help him up. The other Turned in the circle around them shifted away a little, some with their weapons still drawn on Matthias, ready in case he turned on them again.

  The Lesser that Matthias had by the throat only moments earlier took a tentative step forward, drawing Matthias’s attention. For a second he froze, his eyes locked with the other man’s before summoning the courage to clear the last few steps and offer a hand to Matthias. The others held their breaths until Matthias clasped his hand on the other Lesser’s wrist and the two shared an understanding nod, the attack forgiven.

  “All right, lads, let’s get movin’, then. Quarter won’t clear itself, ya know.”

  49

  Sophie paced the foyer of the mansion, biting her nails down to the quick. Samiell sat nearby, watching her as he had since the others had gone to face the Rogues. He had tried to calm her, offer her tea and food but she felt if she ate she might not be able to keep it down.

  “Come child, sit with an old man,” Samiell said, patting the seat beside him.

  Sophie glanced at the door longingly before crossing the room to take a place next to sit with him. The longer Rowan and Matthias were gone, the more her anxiety grew. She felt sick with worry, terrified they would not return. And yet, her mind couldn’t keep away from the thought that she would have to leave them soon anyway. Perhaps she knew deep down from the beginning that it would never work out, no matter how hard she tried. There was only one way to stay with him and it involved leaving her current life behind to live another one. It was something she didn’t want.

  “Sophie, what’s on your mind, dear?” Samiell asked.

  “It’s nothing,” Sophie insisted with a fake smile, which quickly faded as she looked down at her hands.

  “I’m sorry that things can’t be different, my dear, but you do understand why it must be this way?”

  “I just don’t understand why he didn’t tell me from the beginning. Why didn’t he just say that my time with them would be so limited?”

  “If you had known, would you have been able to stop yourself from growing so attached?”

  Sophie hesitated. “I don’t know. I could have done things differently. Gotten a job away from Matthias, lived somewhere else—”

  Samiell chuckled. “Not in this city. Sophie, moving to a new place and gaining your footing alone in only a couple of weeks is nearly impossible. Even if you knew it was short-lived, you would still be right where you are unless you had gone home earlier. Besides, I think Rowan thought you might accept his offer.”

  “What?”

  “He asked to Turn you, did he not? I think he offered because he thought you would allow him to Turn you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He had a name picked out for you already,” Samiell replied.

  “He did?” Sophie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After all his mood changes and indifference, he wanted to keep her with him when he’d offered to Turn her.

  “What’s wrong, child?” he asked, tilting his head.

  “I was so upset last night, I asked him to Turn me. I mean, I didn’t really want him to, but I was so scared and tired of not being able to defend myself,” Sophie admitted.

  “Wait. You asked him to Turn you and he told you no? Interesting...”

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing, child.” Samiell said, grabbing Sophie’s hand tightly. “I’m only sorry that things couldn’t be different for the both of you.”

  Silence settled between them and soon Sophie’s knee was bouncing with nervous energy. She couldn’t help it. She was too concerned for Rowan’s and Matthias’s safety to worry about when she would have to leave. Being separated would be hard enough; one of them getting killed would be far worse.

  “I have to go,” Sophie said finally. “I have to go find them.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Samiell said. He sat up straight, hands gripping the arms of his chair as she pulled on her jacket and headed toward the door. “How are you even
going to get there?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll hitch a ride into the city or...or I’ll walk.”

  “Sarah. Come quickly,” he called.

  “You can’t make me stay here,” Sophie said, knowing it was a lie. Even at his body’s advanced age, Samiell was fully capable of keeping her in the house.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. I only have one car, but I have a few motorcycles from when I collected them as a hobby. I’m sure Sarah won’t mind if you borrow hers,” Samiell said, turning to his Companion, who nodded her consent. “Sarah, dear, would you fetch your jacket and helmet from the hall closet? Sophie needs a ride into the city. You can drive a motorcycle, right?”

  “You probably should have asked that first,” Sarah said, handing over her white riding gear.

  “Uh, well, I had a dirt bike when I was a teenager...” Sophie replied.

  “Close enough. I would get my driver to take you around but I’m afraid he’s slower than an asthmatic sloth,” Samiell said without a hint of humor. “Just don’t wreck it and kill yourself.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Sophie said, quickly slipping into the jacket and tucking the helmet under her arm. Sarah handed her a key with a little skull key chain and Sophie glanced up at Samiell, whose only response was to shrug his shoulders.

  “It’s the one at the far end of the line. Black and red. Can’t miss it,” he said, and Sophie was out the door.

  Sophie found the bikes in the garage, about ten in a straight line, each in pristine condition. She swallowed nervously as she approached the black and red Ducati. Suddenly the skull key chain made more sense. “The old man’s trying to get me killed,” she muttered under her breath. “I said dirt bikes, this...this is so far from a dirt bike I don’t…”

  Her heart raced in her chest when she mounted the bike and for a moment she wondered if it was a terrible idea, but the moment was fleeting. She needed to do something to help Matthias and Rowan, even if she had no idea what that something might be. It would all end soon, one way or another. They were on the cusp of what could very well be total destruction, and yet she couldn’t help herself from driving that motorcycle straight into the heart of the city.