NINE

It was a common enough occurrence at the White Willow, with its overabundance of peculiar and curious goods; there was often a similar amount of equally curious patrons. Friday evening was no exception, as a gaggle of high-school girls had happened upon the shop and were currently perusing through her assortment of wares. Unlike the regulars who were quick and to the point, these girls were taking their time as they browsed; often giggling, sometimes whispering among themselves as they did. Every now and again one of them would discover something which piqued their fancy enough for them to call out loudly and excitedly to the others.

It wasn’t long before the group made their way to the counter with their assortment of purchases, a variety of candles, incense and bath salts. At the counter, Tish happily rang them through, while three girls, two of which seemed to be egging on the third, approached the second girl behind the cash.

“Go ahead, ask her.” One girl urged as they approached.

“I understand you make potions?” The teen asked. She was petite, with her dark hair done up in tiny buns on either side of her head.

“Uh, huh” The salesgirl, a pretty blond with crystal blue eyes replied, while barely looking up from the textbook she was reading.

“So, could you make me a love potion?” She asked shyly, while the other girls giggled nervously behind her.

“Nope.” The salesgirl replied matter-of-factly as she raised a pen held hand to point at a sign on the wall behind her. It read: Absolutely, NO Dark Magic.

“Since when is a love potion, dark magic?” A second girl challenged; her tone snarky.

Faith glanced up at the brazen teen, a slim black girl with her long hair parted down the middle and plaited neatly on each side. She recognized the school crest on her sweater immediately, it was from Briar Hill Academy: an exclusive all-girl school catering to the rich and privileged.

Faith fixed the girl with a look of exasperation and an equally haughty tone, channeling her innermost teen. “Since when is it not?” she asked, while trying to ignore her cousin who was smirking at her from behind the till.

***

On Friday afternoon, Damon awoke before his alarm was set to go off. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling through the darkness, enjoying the sweet ethereal feeling one often got after waking from an immensely deep sleep. If he closed his eyes, he could have easily drifted back to sleep until his alarm went off. Instead, he stretched out his arms and legs, marveling at the space of his king-sized bed and how nice it was to not have to share it.

Rolling out of bed, he sat on its edge for a moment as he reached for his cell phone. It was only late afternoon—not even dinner time for most. He set the phone back down leaving it to charge, but not before he had dismissed his eight-o-clock alarm. Stretching, he detangled himself from the entirety of the blankets before crossing the room and releasing the door latch.

Stepping from the room, he immediately heard the sound of weapon-fire coming from the television in the living area below. Choosing to ignore it for the moment, he instead slipped into the kitchen and set about making a pot of coffee.

While food was typically off limits, Damon was still thankfully able to enjoy coffee—black with a touch of sugar—and even more thankfully, alcohol. It helped to diversity a diet that was otherwise explicitly one of blood.

Blood and alcohol, they were truly his only two vices and there were strengths and weaknesses to be found in both. Blood. It was their life-source. There was no getting around that. It fed them, created them and in many ways ruled them. Fledgling vampires still unable to control their bloodlust could easily become slaves to it; while alcohol, was one of the few things their lazy digestive system could still endure. It came in an overwhelming variety of types, flavours and blends and for an unmuddied palate, it was a truly sensual experience. On the downside, with his superior healing ability, it took copious amounts of the stuff to get drunk.

Now drinking from a human who’d been experimenting with narcotics, or one who was heavily inebriated was an entirely different story. Whereas ingesting narcotics directly, seemed to have little effect on him, the drinking of compromised blood went straight to his head. On more than one occasion, Damon had found himself helplessly high from drinking the blood of a user.

Coffee brewing, he leaned down over the drop to his living room, calling out to the idiots below. “Nick, Nate? Coffee?”

In response he got a nod from Nick and a head shake from the other one. Getting out a second mug, he opened the refrigerator to look for the creamer. He found it wedged between two white plastic containers, the kind yogurt might come in, however Damon knew the true contents held within. Nathan had brought the containers with him—straight from the butchers.

Drinking blood other than human, had results as varied as the donor. He found animal blood for instance, to be gamier than that of a human, so much so that he detested drinking it, while Nathan chose to consume nothing but.

Faerie blood, he’d sampled on only a few occasions. It left him feeling giddy and whimsical, light-hearted, and even silly; entirely not at all like himself. Consuming the blood of demons, which he had limited experience with—he had once sampled a vial of warlock blood while clubbing at After Dusk—could leave the drinker with temporary increases in strength or other latent abilities. He still swore that on the night in question, he had conjured himself a portal home when no ride could be found. One minute he was outside the mansion, the next he’d been in his bedroom with a buxom guest at his side. When morning came, neither could remember the trip there, but for a strange rushing-water sound and a flash of silver sparks and light.

The most intimate bloodletting however, always occurred between vampires and their kin. There was something in sharing your lifeblood with another as they fed on their own, that was so very personal—especially when between lovers.

It was also how their species created life—through defying death; by draining their chosen down to the very last heartbeat and then offering them new life by feeding them your own. For the first few days, fledglings are near helpless as their body adjusts to its new way of operating. They fall into the helpless suaine, a deep reparative sleep; and without their sire there to feed them at intervals, they would usually not survive the experience.

There was also another lesser known reason for clans to share blood. Vampires with communal bloodlines would often experienced a psychic link of sorts. For this reason, adult vampires would often exchange blood in a pact between them, to help protect, strengthen and unify the clan.

With the coffee brewed he poured two mugs, before descending to his living room and joining the occupants below. Nathan, who proved entirely lost without his drinking buddy, had appeared upon his doorstep sometime late Monday evening. Since his arrival, he and Nick had been camping out in the living room; watching movies late into the day, drinking beer and crashing wherever their heads happened to land.

Bloody hell, he thought as he stepped across the minefield of empty beer bottles, dirty plates and empty food containers that had become his living room floor. He set Nick’s coffee on the table in front of him, before settling into his easy chair. The sofa was already contaminated with the likes of Nathan and Nick, who controllers in hand were absorbed in a co-op game on the Para-box.

“Evening,” Nick acknowledged him as he sat down.

Nathan, immersed in the game, didn’t look up. Instead, he was barking out orders to Nick. “Quick, cover me. I’m making a move.”

Their avatars were outfitted in full military garb and seemed to be in an apocalyptic, end-of-days type setting, using the husks of abandoned cars for cover as they advanced towards a series of war-torn buildings from which they were taking heavy fire.

“Sec.” Nick replied, changing weapons as the screen suddenly split in two. The left side still contained the original scene, while the right now had a close-up of the building as seen through the scope of Nick’s high-powered sniper rifle. He began laying down fire as Nathan’s avatar advanced, expertly picking off the other players who appeared to take a shot at Nathan from the doorway and windows of the buildings beyond.

“Nice work,” Nathan commented as he reached the outermost edges of the abandoned vehicles they’d hid behind. “You coming?

“Sure thing, pussy.” Nick replied as the screen once more became one and his avatar sprinted and leapt, sliding across the hoods of the rusted-out cars ahead of him, until he was at Nate’s side.

“Ready?” Nate asked as his character suddenly sprinted out from behind cover and towards the building. Nick’s avatar soon followed, amidst a rain of gunfire that seemed to be coming from the second floor.

Reaching the door, the two entered the building, taking the stairs two at a time until they arrived at the floor above. Progressing on, they took out a few NPC’s as well as some injured players as they made their way down the hallway to the room from where the gunfire had originated.

Kicking in the door, Nate went high, Nick low, as they shot up the room, dispatching the enemy cell and finalizing their objection. Immediately, Nathan’s character moved forward to retrieve the briefcase which would complete their mission and move them on to the next level in the game, when he was suddenly shot thrice in the back.

The screen once more split in two as blood-spatter and bullet holes covered the left side, along with a cryptic TERMINATED that appeared like it had been stamped on the screen in red ink.

“What the hell was that?” Nathan demanded as he dropped his controller in dismay.

“Friendly fire.” Nick said with a smirk as his avatar picked up the briefcase. His side of the screen now lit up with a series of player statistics and rewards as well as a large MISSION COMPLETE that was stamped in bright neon green. Before continuing, he marched his character over to sit him square above Nate’s avatar’s face. “Teabag!” he exclaimed jovially.

“Seriously?” Nathan inquired while failing to keep a straight face. “Nobody does that shit anymore!”

“Aww. Don’t be mad kitteh, we can play again later.” Nick said as he shut the game down before turning and winking at Damon.

“What is with you today and all these bloody cat references?” He turned to Damon for clarification. “Is this some strange wolf thing that I’m not aware of?”

Damon in mid-swallow, choked on his mouthful of coffee. Drawn on Nathans face, specifically on both of his cheeks, were three horizonal lines in what Damon assumed was none other than permanent marker. A tiny black triangle adorned the tip of his nose and completed the look.

Damon shook his head bemused. “Honestly, I have no clue why he does the things he does.” He said as he watched Nick from the corner of his eye; he was holding his hands up on either side of Nate’s head, making little triangle-ears with his thumb and forefinger and grinning like a mad man. “Why don’t we ask him?” Damon said with a curious raise of his eyebrow.

As they both turned towards him, Nick quickly dropped his hands, shrugging instead. “Boredom, mostly.” He admitted.

“Speaking of which,” Nathan turned towards Damon. “Is he free to go?”

Damon shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Provided he can shift.”

“Great.” Nathan immediately jumped up, stretching as he spoke. “I’m gonna head home for a nap, shower n’ shave and meet up with you later.” He said to Nick before reaching for a fist-bump.

“You, are uh, welcome to shower here, if you’d like.” Damon politely offered.

“Nah. He’s okay.” Nick immediately answered, frowning at Damon. “We don’t need him hogging all the hot water.”

“Or you could brush your teeth,” Damon continued undeterred. “Run a comb through your hair. Perhaps just take a nice long look in the mirror.”

“Nah. I’m good.” Nate was already heading towards the balcony and eyeing Damon suspiciously.

“Uh, it’s still daylight.” Nick reminded him.

“Yeah, I know—sunglasses,” Nate replied pulling a pair out of his breast pocket.

“No.” Damon shook his head. “He means, use the front door, Puddy Tat.”

When Nate had departed, Damon headed to the bedroom to get dressed. He came out wearing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved V-neck. For appearances, he did his best to dress with the seasons, even though it often had little to do with his comfort. It was only the second week of October, and for that time of year the days were still relatively warm. He pushed the sleeves of his shirt up as he joined Nick in the living room below.

He was sprawled out on the couch, in a Henley and a pair of gym shorts which Damon recognized not only as his own, but as the same pair he’d been wearing for most of the week. Nick had his arms tucked behind his head as he gazed toward the ceiling caught up in an apparent daydream. For the moment he hadn’t noticed his return. “Hey,” he called out to him, and watched as Nick lazily looked towards him. “Do you, wanna go for a walk?”

That got his attention. Nick immediately righted himself. “Really?”

He nodded, unable to hold back his amusement. Nick was on his feet and moving like he thought Damon might change his mind. He passed him on the way to the stairs. “I just need a second to get changed,” he’d said, before disappearing into the bedroom.

Damon moved to the entrance, retrieved his sneakers from the closet and grabbed his sunglasses and keys from the bowl on the table by the door.

Niko came bounding out a moment later at full tilt, rounded the turn from the kitchen and braked to a stop at his feet. Damon took a moment to inspect him; specifically, the shoulder that had been injured. Nick had fully healed in his human form, but since the incident this was his first attempt at a shift.

“You good to go?” he asked and received a sharp bark and a wag of the tail in return.

Downstairs, he crossed the lobby with Niko leading the way. He saw no sign of the caretaker, Wes Williams, whom he’d been hoping to run into. He wanted to put the elderly man’s mind to rest and a stop to his curious inquiries.

Once outside, they walked the stone pathway to the street, Niko’s tail at a constant wag as he went. On top of the stone fence that encircled the lawn leading up to the apartments, a fluffy white cat with striking green eyes, swished her tail angrily at his approach. A low yowl soon followed as she locked eyes with Niko, who seemed to notice her for the first time.

“You can relax, kitty.” Damon said with a smirk. “He has no interest in you.”

The afternoon was warm as a slight breeze kicked up the fallen leaves. Autumn had arrived and she had painted the trees that lined the street in deep shades of orange, gold and red. The sky was a brilliant blue and filled with billowy white clouds. They passed others who too were out for a walk on this beautiful day, many with four legged friends of their own. Most of the dogs they passed were well behaved, with only a few that wanted to drag their owners along—from one pee spot to the next, it seemed—however none were all that anxious to come face to face with Niko. While most humans who passed them, smiled brightly at what they assumed was a blue-eyed husky, their dogs were as unlikely fooled. Damon too, saw only his wolfish features and he imagined that other nocturnal dwellers could recognize them as well.

They reached Highland Park in an almost unconscious fashion. At least Damon hadn’t intentionally led the way. The spacious grassland was one of the largest parks city wide and hosted an assortment of amenities to be enjoyed by all. There was a beautiful flower garden, which had become a photo stop for not only sightseers, but many a wedding party as well. A paved trail that weaved in and out of the treeline as it worked its way along the outskirts of the park, was used by cyclists and joggers alike. Wide cobblestone paths marked the way through to the centre of the park, where a large pond was home to many waterfowl, including ducks, geese and even a pair of swans. Decorative iron benches surrounded the water feature which were often enjoyed by seniors; who liked to feed the birds, and the nannies with their strollers; who were often seen reading while their charges napped. There were playgrounds for the older children, and an established picnic area with restrooms, drinking fountains and tables set up under large metal awnings.

As soon as they passed under the archway, Niko bolted. He’d kept politely by Damon’s side for the entirety of the walk, but now faced with a wide expansion of yard he was determined to make full use of it. He was literally the fastest thing on four legs and Damon lost sight of him only a few seconds later as he disappeared into the treeline.

He decided to follow, taking his time as he did. With Nick in his wolf form he had no chance of winning a footrace—at least not in any way that wouldn’t draw suspicion towards him. He entered the forest, feeling the drop in temperature as he made his way to the jogging trail. The air here smelt clean and earthy. Large pines and other coniferous loomed overhead, dropping layers of needles and cones amongst an assortment of smaller bushes, grasses and lush looking ferns. The trail here was marked by the occasional log-bench, although for the moment the area was deserted. The breeze kicked-up sharply and he attempted to pick up Niko’s scent. He thought it strange, how Nick often had a faint doggie smell, even with his meticulous bathing habits, while Niko hadn’t even the slightest hint of Nick’s scent. He wondered if it was a naturally derived defense mechanism that allowed the wolven to not only blend into an animal-born pack, but disappear within their own as well, making it impossible to pinpoint any specific member from the rest of the pack.

Damon took a quick glance around before taking advantage of the lack of people and dashing up the trail at highspeed himself. His burst of speed rewarded him with a glimpse of something furry and white tearing along the underbrush sidelong of the trail. A moment later, Niko burst past him, circling wide and disappearing once more into the bush. Damon followed and once he was in an area secluded from the trail, he came upon Nick who was waiting for him, standing waist deep behind a dark-green shrub, which Damon thought might appropriately have been a dogwood. The play at modesty, he knew, was not at all for his sake, but for the benefit of any bystanders who might happen by.

“Wanna play ball?” Nick looked at him hopefully as he approached.

Damon cursed softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to bring one.”

Nick smiled mischievously. “What if I knew where to find one?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

Damon thought about this. “You buried one, didn’t you.”

Nick did a slow shrug. “May-be” he said before dropping to all fours and emerging once more in his wolf form.

He led him at a reasonable speed this time, back across the main part of the park to a wide-open spot on the opposite side of the pond. There was a flowerbed here, with a silver birch, surrounded by many short shrubs and flowering plants, as well as an oversized white stone. Niko went straight to the rock before sitting and placing a paw on it.

Damon glanced around before he too entered the little flower patch and taking hold of the stone, rolled it aside. There was a hole beneath in which he found a black flak sack. Inside there was a change of clothes, an old metal cookie tin that rattled when he disturbed it, and underneath, a couple of tennis balls. He removed one of the balls, before replacing the contents, dropping the bag back into the hole, and rolling the stone back into place.

He smiled and shook his head. “You are so spoiled,” he said before moving out into the clearing and initiating the most epic game of fetch.

An hour later, they headed back. It was close to dinner time and most of the pedestrians that had been out in droves were no longer on the street. As they approached home, he failed to notice the white panel van, which was creeping slowly behind them, until it finally stopped, just as they reached the gateway in front of their yard. Two men, one with a long metal pole, had stepped out to follow them.

“Hey,” the first on scene called out to him and he stopped and turned curiously in his direction. “You can’t have that dog off leash. It’s a three-hundred dollar fine,” he said pointing to Niko, who too had stopped head-tilted curiously as they approached.

He glanced down at Niko and pretended to notice him for the first time. “Oh, him?” He asked sounding most surprised. “He’s not mine.”

Niko turned and regarded him then, his eyes narrowing accusingly.

That was all the animal control officers needed to hear. Immediately they began calling softly to Niko, with chants of “who’s a good boy?” and “who want’s a treat?” as they inched towards him, the one with the pole, attempting to flank him.

Niko huffed loudly, as the one with the pole finally lunged, before he darted quickly up the street with the officers in hot pursuit. Damon watched for a moment as Niko led them away. He would stop once he was a few feet ahead of them and pretend to sniff around as he waited for them to catch up. He would allow them get close, to come up almost on top of him, spoon-feeding them hope, before once more darting off on his merry little chase. Damon chuckled. They had absolutely no chance of catching him.

Smirking, he turned up the walkway, abruptly coming to a halt when he spotted Wes Williams. He was standing just beyond the wall, with an open view of the street, a pile of leaves at his feet, yard rake still in hand. He had stopped raking and was regarding Damon with a less than happy expression. Yep. Wes had no doubt witnessed the entire betrayal.

The grin departed Damon’s face as he continued up the walk. As the came alongside the caretaker, he cleared his throat, shrugged sheepishly and said, “He needed the exercise.”

*

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

At eight o’clock it was time to close up shop. Faith grabbed a broom to do a quick sweep of the floor, while Tish started to break down the cash register. As she swept alongside the window, she was startled by a familiar face, who immediately disappeared from view.

“You know,” She said turning to her cousin. “I don’t mind closing up, if you’d like to head home early.”

“Oh?” Tish sounded interested. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.” Faith said with a smile. She hoped she didn’t seem too eager. She felt guilty hiding the truth from Tish, with whom she usually shared everything; but what she’d been up to lately wasn’t something she wanted Tish involved in.

As soon as Tish departed, Faith ran to the door. Opening it, she called out, “All clear,” as Justice and Liberty seemingly appeared out of nowhere. They were dressed down once more in cargo pants and boots, but this time they were each wearing a dark hoodie as well. Together, they quickly entered the shop.

“How did you do that?” Faith asked once she had closed and locked the door.

“What, this?” Libby asked with a smirk. Raising the hood on her jacket, she immediately vanished. A moment later, she revealed herself once more by lowering it.

“Cloaking spell.” Justice stated. “We made one for you too.” She tossed a dark hoodie towards her.

“Thanks,” Faith said as she quickly slipped it on. She immediately zipped it up and pulled up the hood. “This is so… weird.” She said, as she glanced down at where her body should have been. It was still there, but in a hollowed-out sort of way. She could see an outline of her hands as she held them up before her face, but at the same time, she could look right through them too. It was like she was made of weightless glass. “Is this what a ghost feels like?” She lowered the hood and her body reassuringly appeared. It was certainly cool; although a bit disconcerting as well—losing yourself like that—she supposed it would take some getting used to.

Libby laughed. “Maybe. Next time I see one I’ll ask.”

“So, why the hoodies?” Faith asked as she went back to her sweeping.

Justice and Liberty were casually glancing at items as they strolled through the shop.

“Well, we thought we might need to make a quick get away.” Justice said as she examined the scented oils. She was taking her time, sniffing the corks one by one. “Ooh. This would be nice in a body wash,” she said to her sister, as she offered her a sniff.

“Yeah, that is nice.” Liberty said. To Faith she added, “It’s not everyday that we’re out hunting vampires; it’s best to be prepared.”

“Speaking of which,” Justice said. “Have you been practicing that spell I taught you?”

Both sisters turned to stare at her then.

Faith hesitated. Her felt her ears grow hot.

“Oh, Faith.” Justice said sounding disappointed.

“It’s not like I’m not practicing it.” Faith said quickly. “It’s just that, I haven’t quiet got the hang of it yet.”

“Yeah? Well, you’d better figure it out soon,” Libby said dryly. She was clearly unimpressed. “Cause you’re about to be facing down a vampire.”

“Me? Why me?” She asked surprised.

“This is your gig. It’s your friend on the line. You need to take the lead here.”

Faith’s shoulders dropped. She felt crushed. She must have looked it too; cause Justice immediately came over to place a hand on her shoulder. “Libs is right. We’re here to support you, but you’ve got to step up.”

Faith’s tummy churned. The idea terrified her, but with the sisters by her side she knew she could do it. “I will. When the time comes, I’ll be ready.” She hoped she sounded a lot surer than she felt.

Part 2

Across town, Damon was in the midst of reclaiming his living room, when his cell phone went off from the bedroom above. Climbing the stairs, he reached it just before the voicemail picked up. He answered as he carried it back down to the living room with him, intent on continuing his work below.

“Hello, mate.” Ryan’s familiar voice came over the line sounding serious. “Please tell me that you haven’t been a naughty boy.”

“Not of late,” Damon replied curiously. “Why, what’s up?”

“Turn on the tele.”

Damon paused and began searching the room for the remote, finally finding it on the floor amongst the controllers for the Para-Box. He was about to question which station to turn it to, when Ryan’s deep voice rang out once more across the airwaves.

“Local” he said briefly.

Damon snatched up the remote, flipping channels until he came upon the evening news where they were featuring the story of a missing woman. It wasn’t until they flashed a picture of her across the screen that Damon understood why Ryan was calling him. It was the college student he had met at the bar a few nights earlier. Her hair was slightly shorter, as the photo was from her high school graduation, otherwise there was no doubt that it was the same beauty from before. Until that moment, he had forgotten all about her.

“Allie,” he whispered, unaware that he had said her name aloud.

“Yeah. Gone missing.”

“That’s unfortunate. Do they have any leads?” Damon asked absentmindedly, as he went back to straightening, folding a blanket that had taken refuge on his sofa. “When did she disappear?”

There was a lingering hesitation over the line.

Damon straightened suddenly as the epiphany hit him with the grace and finesse of a sledgehammer. “Bloody hell! You think I had something to do with this?” He dropped the folded blanket to the sofa beneath.

Ryan’s voice was somber. “Well… Did you?”

Damon felt his temper flare and his neck grow hot. “Of course not. Why would you even—

“Molly’s been talking trash.”

“Yeah? Well Molly, can bite my lily-white ass.” He dropped down to the sofa, and frowning brought his free hand to his brow as he considered things. What the hell was Molly playing at? After all, hadn’t she been the one who had put him on to this girl in the first place? Obviously, she was once more trying to cause trouble, which regrettably, did seem to be her favourite pastime. Once upon a time, Damon might have enjoyed the wicked games she played, perhaps even participated. But that was before Nathan and frankly he had grown increasingly tired of forever cleaning-up after her mistakes.

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

“Allie? Last Friday night, alive and kicking. Dragged off in fact, by a small blond chick.”

Ryan sighed, and Damon could hear the relief in his voice.

“Good to know. At least whatever happened to her didn’t occur in my nightclub. The last thing we need is the law snooping around. We have more than enough problems as it is.”

“Yeah,” Damon responded. But he didn’t feel as sure. He wasn’t ready to rule out Molly’s involvement in the whole thing. She had been up to something that night, the way she had insisted on him buying Allie a drink.

And there’d been something else as well. When he’d finally returned after speaking with Ryan; Molly, Jess and Teresa had all been at his table and Allie had been dancing, strangely trancelike, alone at the railing…

“Speaking of which,” Ryan continued rather urgently, interrupting his thoughts. “How’s our favourite problem child doing? He come clean to you yet?”

Damon sighed, relenting to Ryan’s obvious attempt at changing the subject. “Uh. Yes and no. He’s having a hard time confiding in me. He says he took care of the hunter, and that I believe, but he’s still holding back something. I cut him loose earlier tonight. I’m sure he and Nate will be on your doorstep soon enough.”

“You want me to keep an eye on him?”

“Nah. I’ve already got it covered. Tuesday while Nick was showering, I may have mentioned my suspicions about his pack to Nate; how he isn’t safe.”

“Okay.”

“I may have also let slip that Nathan had an episode of his own, so—”

“They’ll be watching out for one other. Nice.”

“Yeah. It was the best I could do, two birds and all…” He finished with a shrug.

***

“You found St. Clair?”

Back at the farmhouse, Faith could hardly contain herself. She sat at the chair by Hope’s desk, her knee anxiously bouncing. She felt giddy, nervous and excited, all at once.

Wednesday had been a bust. Thursday too. They had staked out the Pitt both nights, but their mystery man simply hadn’t shown. Justice and Liberty hadn’t seemed worried though. He was a silent partner, they’d said. He probably didn’t have any hands-on stake in the business.

Their reasoning only seemed to leave Faith more uneasy. If he wasn’t a regular at the club—if Allie and Damon had only crossed paths by some random fluke of events—then how would they ever find her? He was their only lead, the last person who had supposedly seen Allie. But now, this new information; it gave her hope.

“Yes and no.” Hope said mysteriously. “Remember how I said the older ones were more adept at hiding?”

Faith nodded.

“Well, he’s basically been hiding under our noses this entire time. Damon St. Clair was originally, a member of clan Saint’clair, which I know sounds the same, but it’s spelt differently—anyway, he now goes by Sinclair and this is what I’ve got on Damon Sinclair.”

The next moment she tapped open a file to display all that she had found. Documents and pictures flooded her screen.

“Wow.” Faith said, and for once she wasn’t being sarcastic.

“Yeah. This guy has holdings and properties all over the city. Old money—and lots of it.”

“Did you find a home address?” Faith asked hopeful.

“I have a driver’s license,” she said as she brought the document up.

Faith breathed a sigh of relief. For once maybe things were going their way. If he didn’t show up at the club, then at least they had a new way to find him—

“But I wouldn’t celebrate just yet.” Hope continued dashing her hopes. “It’s probably just a front, I doubt it has any real meaning to him.”

“Great. So, we’re back to square one.”

“Not necessarily.” Hope said shaking her head. “We may not have a working address, but we’ve got something better. We have his picture; his face, and with facial recognition software and the overwhelming amount of social media, news footage and CCTV that’s out on the streets…”

“Are you saying we can, what…track him?”

“It’ll take some time.” She brought up a program that had been running in the background, which seemed to be shuffling through faces, one after the next. “But yes, Faith. That’s exactly what I’m saying. His days of hiding in the shadows are over.”

*

He was restless. It was a feeling in the base of his spine. A knot of pent up energy that no amount of stretching could ever hope to release. He’d needed to get out and do something—to help relieve the boredom he’d been feeling. It seemed like it had been forever and a day since he’d last been out to a club, and to find himself here, in an establishment that catered to humans no less, was exactly what he’d been craving. He wanted all of it: the dim lighting that left comfortable shadows; the loud music and pounding bass that arose from the dance floor; and the heat and closeness of the crowd, as he slipped through a sea of warm bodies. There was something intimate in it all, how the crowd pushed him into the space and heat of a stranger in a way that would never be acceptable on the streets yet was blissfully ignored here. And the club-goers; all showered clean and dressed to impress—perhaps looking for a version of their own escape—engaged his olfactory senses with an overwhelming array of scents and fragrances. There was the smell of recently showered skin; the spicy musk of aftershave; and the delicate hint of perfume, all mingling in a way that delighted him so.

At the bar, he ordered a drink. Something dark and hard and old, which too he savoured. He rolled the liquid along the inside of his glass before first taking a sniff, and then a sip as the aroma and flavour; somewhat sweet with a hint of caramel and a slightly smoky finish, washed over his palate.

He was seated on a stool at the end of the bar, where he was granted an unobstructed view of its entire length. From here he could watch the club goers as they interacted with one another, much like a spectator at a sporting event. It was intriguing to watch the different groups as they mingled and flirted with one another. Groups of men hunted ladies, like wolves after deer. He watched as two young men approached a pair of ladies only to find out that the beautiful duo was only interested in one another. Undaunted, the gentlemen quickly moved on to their next prey.

A few seats down sat a couple that only had eyes for each other. They were leaning in close as they chatted, and the woman, a sexy brunette, kept tucking a strand of hair nervously behind her ear as they talked. They looked rather sweet together and he found himself feeling a bit envious of the pair.

It’d been a while since he had been in any kind of meaningful relationship, and the prospect of one felt as equally daunting as it was appealing. This evening there was no shortage of potential candidates as handsome men and beautiful women were everywhere to be found. He wasn’t so naïve as to believe that true love was here to be found within the walls of the Pitt, but stranger things had been known to happen.

A mixed group of beauties at the far end of the bar caught his attention. Unlike most of the club goers who seemed to be on the prowl for a hook-up, these individuals seemed more relaxed as they hung with one another, more like old friends. The bartender too, seemed familiar with them as he kept furnishing them with drinks, while the other patrons struggled to get his attention. Regulars. Every bar had them. They were the bread and butter of the business. Having a steady group of regulars helped to draw in the crowds on slower nights, and often kept the place pumping on busy ones.

He watched as the familiar group divided; a pair of girls heading quickly past him hand in hand towards the dance floor. Setting his sights on one of them, he quickly finished his drink and decided to make his move. If he got shot down, it would be less embarrassing with half the number of onlookers.

He began working his way through the crowd towards the other end of the bar. When he arrived, there were two gentlemen left at the bar: a blonde and a brunette. The blonde was of little interest to him, but the brunette was tall, nicely built and very attractive. Better yet, he had a smile which lit up his entire face. It made him feel very approachable. As it was, he found himself attracted to men who were larger than him, and in comparison, ladies that were smaller—and he’d always had a thing for dark haired individuals with pale skin.

He was almost in front of him when a second brunette, this one petite and wearing a killer black dress, forced her way past him to stand in front of the two. Whatever she’d said, made the welcoming smile slip from his face. But now he was standing immediately in front of him, and the man had noticed him and was starting at him expectantly.

He tried to keep his voice strong; confident. He could do this…What was the worse that could happen?

Well, you could get punched in the face.

He swallowed, and before he could change his mind loudly blurted, “Can I buy you a drink?” He hoped he hadn’t flinched in preparation for a fist. Why oh why, did you have to think about getting punched in the face? Truly, he was his own worse enemy.

Instead, the man’s eyes seemed to soften. From this distance he could now see that they were a darker shade of blue.

“That would be lovely.”

The little brunette had spun on her heels to face him, and for a moment he was left speechless. She was smiling at him, her face alight with the prospects of a suitor; and she was gorgeous in her own respect. She had large brown eyes, the colour of chocolate and her lips were painted in scarlet. Her ebony hair fell in long waves past her shoulders, and her little black dress did nothing to hide the curves beneath. You could get lost in those curves for days, he thought.

But it was the look upon her face: a mixture of surprise and longing—she’d thought the invitation belonged to her—and in that moment she was standing heart exposed in front of him and there was no way that he could have let her believe otherwise.

He cleared his throat and put on his warmest smile.

“Very lovely indeed. I’m Colin.” He said as he extended his hand, taking hers gently.

“Molly.”

“What can I get you, Molly?”

He pushed his way to the bar to stand next to the dark-haired gentleman, who had since lost interest in the exchange and returned to his friend without incident. Colin now wondered if he knew the invitation had been for him, or if he too thought it was for the beautiful Molly.

Molly asked for a whiskey sour, so he ordered two, before turning to follow her across the bar. She headed towards a booth opposite and as she arrived, the group of girls sitting there abruptly gave up their seats.

She accepted the drink gratefully, before leaning towards him seductively. Her maneuver gave him an unobstructed view of her ample cleavage. “So, Colin.” She purred. “Tell me about yourself. I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

He took a sip of his drink. He was trying not to stare. She was a wild one, this girl. Better tread lightly.

“Ah, well. It is my first time here. I heard about it from my sister.”

“Well your sister certainly has good taste.” She was gazing at him with eyes almost as dark as his own. She reached out to brush a curl off his forehead.

His hair was always a bit on the wild side. He had a head full of loose brown curls that were almost always sun-bleached to a coppery gold on top.

As she brought her hand down, she dropped it easily to his own which had been resting by his drink on the table. She had this flirting thing down to an art.

He squeezed her hand gently as he held it in his. Her hand was milky-white in comparison to his brown one.

“Would you like to dance?” He asked. It would be nice to hold her in his arms.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said rising from her seat. As she did, she kept hold of his hand as she led him towards the back of the bar.

Down in the depths of the Pitt, hot bodies mingled on the dance floor. He was introduced to the pair of girls he’d seen before. Teresa, a beautiful black lady with the body of a ballerina was dancing with a spunky blond named Jess. They were surrounded by a trio of young men who were vying for their attention. Molly introduced them to him as “her girls” and the three exchanged quick kisses upon meeting.

Colin was happy to have Molly all to himself. They danced bodies touching, no matter the tempo of the song. Twisting, turning in and out of one another’s arms, Molly turned; dancing backwards against him, arms raised high in the air, as she glanced over her shoulder at him seductively. She was the centre of attention, and he was happy to let her be.

When Teresa and Jess eventually departed the dancefloor with their trio in tow, Molly followed, but not before grasping Colin firmly by the hand and pulling him along with her.

Upstairs, he followed the group across the busy bar, back towards the table they had earlier shared. Six, believe it or not, was a comfortable fit at the U-shaped booths that ran along the wall of the Pitt. Seven however, had their sweaty and hot bodies sitting slightly closer than what was comfortable. They had slid into the booth in a he-she sort of pattern with both Teresa and Jess sitting between a pair of the men. That left Colin sitting on the outside beside one of the sweaty hot gentlemen. Molly soon excused herself to flag down a waitress and order a round of drinks for the group.

Shortly a waitress appeared with a tray full of beer which were quickly dispersed around the table. Molly, however, did not immediately follow. When she finally did arrive, the joyous expression she had worn for most of the night had been replaced by a sullen one. Rather than take a seat at the booth, she leaned down to speak with him instead.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked briskly, her dark eyes searching his face.

He nodded as he stood. “Just let me take care of my tab.”

Molly nodded, leaning in close. “In that case, I’ll powder my nose.” She said giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, before heading towards the facilities.

Colin crossed the bar as quickly as he could and getting the attention of the barkeep, paid his tab. He was searching for Molly’s whereabouts, when a strong arm suddenly clasped around his shoulders. He looked up into a set of piercing green eyes that were assessing him carefully. He recognized the man immediately; was aware of his reputation, although up until now their paths had thankfully never crossed. Damon Sinclair. Colin swallowed unwillingly. Whatever could he want with me?

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Damon said his voice grave. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

“Daughter?” Colin managed, his voice a croak from a throat that was suddenly dry.

Damon looked at him curiously then. “Molly,” he reminded him, eyes narrowing.

Shit. Molly was his daughter? Then did that mean Molly was a—

“Honourable, Sir.” He blurted, as Damon continued to scrutinize him carefully. “Exceedingly, honourable.”

Shit. Colin’s heart was racing. Exceedingly honourable? Sir? Was he trying to get himself killed?

“See that they are,” Damon said, releasing him.

Outside, the air was crisp and cool. October was making herself known. Leaves in shades of red and gold blew along the city streets as Molly and Colin walked, arms entwined. The moon hung high in the cloudless sky above; a waxing crescent of light set amongst a background of shimmering stars.

Molly peeved as she was, noticed nothing of the beauty and stillness of the night. Damon had confronted her in a way that was as demeaning as it was embarrassing. How dare he speak to her in that manner? She was not a child. No longer did she belong to him. That phase of her life was well over. He had made that plainly clear. And she had moved on. Well… mostly moved on.

“Cool night,” Colin remarked. His voice interrupting her thoughts.

“Yes. I suppose it is.” Molly glanced up at the handsome man beside her. He was only a few inches taller than she, with a lean build. He had a head full of unruly, brown curls, which the wind played at blowing about. His eyes were so dark that they were almost black, as he gazed at her with the hint of a smile upon his lips. He had several piercings in both of his ears, one in his right eyebrow and a labret piercing as well. With that many visible piercings, it made Molly wonder if he may have had more elsewhere.

“Here. Take my jacket.” He said, offering her a tailored coat in soft brown leather, that she hadn’t noticed he’d been wearing.

“Thanks,” she said, graciously accepting the garment as he slipped it over her shoulders, even though the cold hadn’t really bothered her. Colin was sweet and compassionate, and Molly wasn’t accustomed to men being considerate of her needs. It threw her off-balance, the unusualness of it all, and she found her anger fleeting as she looked into his eyes.

“Feeling better, perhaps?”

Molly smiled, realizing that she did.

They turned down the next street they encountered. Old homes with tailored lots lined the block, and up ahead, at the end of the street was a neighbourhood park, where there was a jungle-gym and a swing-set.

Taking him by the hand, Molly led him quickly down the street towards the playground. They climbed the small incline to the park above, the fallen leaves making the ground greasy beneath their feet. She lost her balance once, her high heels slipping on the damp grass and as she did, Colin’s arms encircled her waist as he steadied her. They made their way to the swings, and as each took one, they sat facing one another.

For the first time, she noticed the heavens and the breathtaking view of the starry night sky. It wasn’t often that the air was clear enough to display such beauty amongst the city’s lights.

“It’s beautiful.” Molly said, her chin lifted, extending her long graceful neck.

“Certainly is,” Colin said.

There was something in the tone of his voice that caused Molly to glance his way, and in that second, she realized all at once that he’d not been looking at the sky; but at her, when he leaned in to kiss her.

That was when her fairy-tale ended.

There was a sound; like the lowest and cruelest bass note ever played. It encompassed them wholly, filling the air with its foulness, piercing their skulls and causing their teeth to ache. Molly screamed, as she covered her ears. A futile act, as the sound seemed to have taken up root within her own head. Colin too, covered his ears as he got to his feet, staggering, only to fall to his knees in the sand a few short feet away. When he looked up, she could see that his eyes and nose were bleeding.

There was a flash, a sizzle of light and a crack that was not unlike thunder as the debilitating note finally ceased and a swirling circle of nothingness appeared in front of them. From that nothingness a hulking figure stepped.

*

Damon was sitting at the end of the bar. On nights when it was much quieter than tonight, he would often pass the time by keeping Ryan company. There was a card game ongoing; an amusement that he generally looked forward to, but this evening Damon’s mood was sour. His earlier phone call from Ryan and his recent confrontation with Molly had left him so.

Intent on drinking himself to a better mood, he was now on this third or forth double of scotch. Truthfully, he couldn’t remember exactly how many he had had, but it was enough that Ryan had finally disenthralled himself from him, by bringing him his own bottle.

Finishing what was in his glass, he poured himself another. It was then, as he raised his glass to his lips, that Molly’s shriek hit him. It was as if he had suddenly been drenched in ice-water. His hand squeezed and the glass within it, shattered, spilling its contents upon the bar. The next second he was on his feet and moving fast as he pushed his way through the crowd.

*

Nick was sitting at the bar, when Nathan on the stool next to him, jerked so hard that he fell from his seat. He looked down at his brother questioningly and was about to make a smart-assed remark, when the expression of dread on Nathan’s ash-white face, caused his words to fail him.

That was when Nate jumped to his feet, grabbed hold of Nick’s shirt collar and hauled him from his own stool. While being dragged through the crowd, they intersected with Damon, who too was heading towards the exit. Nick witnessed a silent exchange between the two, as they reached the doors in unison, flinging them violently open as they raced out into the night.

Nick followed on their heels, easily keeping pace with them. At the next intersection, Damon and Nate came to a quick stop, glanced at one another as if deliberating, before abruptly rounding the corner as one, and racing down the center of a quiet tree-lined street. At the foot of the lane was a park, and a silent figure that was fleeing towards them.

They raced up the grassy incline to meet up with Molly, who was staggering. The strap of her dress was torn and one of her heels had broken and when Damon finally reached her, she fell willingly into his arms.

“Where is he?” Damon demanded, eyes quickly scanning the park as he steadied her. To Nick and Nate, he ordered, “Find him!”

“Find who?” Nick asked, glancing around. It was apparent that the park was empty. He glanced at Nathan, who too was looking about wildly, and seemed to be as confused as he was.

“They took him,” Molly stammered. “They took Colin.”

She was clinging to Damon and visibly shaken. In all the years he had known her, Nick had never seen her in such a fragile state.

She grabbed hold of Damon’s shirtfront, eyes wild as she continued. “I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I was frozen—I kept telling myself to help him, to do something, but my body… it just wouldn’t respond.”

She began to weep as she relived the moment, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. “Colin tried to fight them off… the men that attacked us, but they surrounded him, and then that thing… It took him by the neck, and it lifted him,” Molly said as she extended her own arm up high above her head, “and he was choking and kicking, and he begged me to wish it away…”

She stopped speaking as a shudder warped through her body, her arm dropped down limply to her chest, and she folded her arms, comforting herself.

“And Colin—he protected you?” Damon asked.

Molly nodded as he held her close.

Nick thought it odd to ask that of all things, as Molly’s story had been strange indeed, and sure, he was still trying to wrap his mind around it all, but the least surprising factor for him, was that a strong able-bodied man had attempted to defend Molly.

“What did these men look like?” Nick asked gently. He had never seen Molly looking so frail.

“I couldn’t see their faces. One was dressed in a hooded robe, and the other two were wearing dark hoodies.”

“Did they say anything? Demand anything? Do you have any idea, why they would attack you?”

Molly looked thoughtful. “After the noise… my ears were ringing so loudly I could barely hear, but I think the man in the robe was commanding the thing, this… giant stone creature. He ordered it to bring him the vessel.”

Her explanation brought more questions to mind then answered them. What noise? A giant stone creature? And who were these men, and what was this vessel they were looking for?

Damon however, had heard enough. He turned to Nathan. “Take Molly home. Keep her safe.” He instructed. “I’ll follow shortly.”

Nathan nodded without question, and as Molly walked unsteadily alongside him, her broken heel impeding her steps, he swept her up and into his arms, as he continued to carry her the rest of the way. All he had needed, Nick thought, was a white horse.

Damon turned to Nick. “Let’s have a look around, shall we?”

*

Damon was growing impatient. A quick search of the area had revealed nothing of interest. There was the evidence of a struggle: deep scuff marks and lines in the sand where it looked like someone had been dragged, and a spot perhaps, where Molly had broken her heel. It did little more than validate Molly’s claims.

“I’m going to head back,” Damon said as he proceeded towards the street. He stopped momentarily, looking over his shoulder as he called back to Nick. “Are you coming?”

Nick was standing, still a good distance off. “In a minute. I think I’ll take another look around; bring out my wolf, see perhaps if he can pick something up.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Damon snapped, before making his way down the small hill and out into the street. He realized he sounded short, but he’d had about enough of his family being put in danger and he felt a desperate need to get back to Molly.

He was already halfway up the block, when a small jean-clad figure stepped into the intersection ahead of him. It stopped in the middle of the street, turning to face him. Even at this distance, Damon recognized her immediately. It was none other than Allison Greer.