I generally avoid Weston because of Charlemagne and my meeting with him nearly two years ago now. Despite how much I have changed because of HRT, top surgery, and more importantly self-confidence in myself, I will never forget that feeling of being scrutinized, a mere insect under a microscope, just to satisfy his curiosity. Five days after the council meeting, however, and I’m out of excuses on how to delay the investigation any further. I did want my team prepared, and that meant gathering the right equipment and working with the Sentinels and Technical Department to get a better picture of what’s been going on in Weston. There’s nothing in the regular news to suggest a great attack happened, and none of the Sentinels glean any sort of vision that indicates foul play. With nothing to really go on, it’s up to us to find out whatever answers we can ourselves.
My team includes Chiaki; Centurions Jade Nanette, Lloyd Carrington, and Kyle West; Incantator Heather Rand; and Sentinel James Boyd. Boyd will remain in the van that he parks outside the manor gates, attempting to keep the sight open in case he can head off any surprises. The rest of us will spread out across the grounds and the mansion itself to look for clues. As we walk up the drive, I can’t say I see anything that looks out of place. The grounds are still well maintained, and the mansion itself is as impressive as ever. Pristine, all the windows are intact, the nearby garage boasts several luxury cars that all look brand new.
With a frown, I direct Jade and Lloyd to continue a sweep of the grounds. Kyle and Heather go around to the back to find another entrance into the mansion. They’ll be searching through the east wing while Chiaki and I go towards the main entrance with plans to go through the west wing. When we get to the main doors, I ring the bell, feeling antsy as no one answers. “Last time I was here, one of the thralls came out,” I say to Chiaki.
“It’s still an hour where that will probably be the case,” she replies, glancing up at the light blue sky.
Except, no one does answer. I ring the bell one more time, but I know if there’s active thralls, they would have heard it. Maybe they’re under instruction not to open the door. “How are you with picking locks?” I ask.
She looks studious and reaches for the door handle, surprising us both when it twists easily in her grip and admits us both inside. “I guess you’ll never know,” she says with a light smile. The smile doesn’t last long, however, because while the outside of the Moliere Coven’s home looks fine, the inside is decimated. It looks like the macabre version of a wacky playhouse; the floors are warped and uneven, expensive sculptures are melted like wilted flowers, walls have long cracks running along them, and among the debris are remains. I see a foot, and a spine…remnants of the human thralls who once lived here.
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
“We…we should look for survivors,” Chiaki suggests, although she doesn’t sound at all hopeful.
I’m not hopeful either. From what we can see, the entire mansion seems to have been blasted with astounding heat. Still, we pick our way carefully through the hallways, observing the various pools of melted tile and plaster. Everything is hardened and cooled, this isn’t something that happened recently, but this must have taken a lot of power. How did no one see or feel anything while an entire vampire coven, arguably the most powerful one in the region, was wiped out?
“Vampires too,” I say grimly as we enter a large bedroom. There are no actual beds in this room, but there are some once-impressive armoires and the outline of broken and burned coffins within. The white ash scattered across the floor is all that remains of the vampires who slept here. It’s the same everywhere. Ruin and ashes, no signs of life or unlife whatsoever.
As Chiaki and I make our way to the kitchen at the heart of the mansion we ponder in silence. It’s only when we pause at the island half submerged into the floor that we look at one another again.
“It fits Erra’s power,” I say. “Queen Keyara mentioned intense heat…And everything about the state of this place suggests that he and Charlemagne definitely had some kind of conflict. I can only guess Erra came here right after he…came back. Remember how confusing that night was at HQ?”
“Yes,” Chiaki replies, and I can’t decide if her look of empathy is welcome or not. “All the Sentinels were afflicted with that vision of light, the pendants shattering…it makes sense that he could make such an attack without us picking up on it in that case.”
We hear footsteps and look up to see Heather and Kyle walking into the kitchen to join us. Judging by their expressions, they had the same report; no survivors, everything destroyed.
“The remnants of power here,” Heather trembles as she speaks, and looks as if she has a vice around her. “It is staggering…The vampires, their thralls, they didn’t even have time to panic.”
“Incantator Rand thinks this happened very quickly,” Kyle says. “A flash point then this in a matter of seconds.”
“So, unless the Sentinels can watch him continuously…he could do this anywhere before we have a chance to stop him,” Chiaki says.
“Another coven house, or headquarters…any mundane city,” Kyle confirms.
“But if he did it in a public setting, he gives himself away,” I reply. “I don’t think he’d spend six months in hiding or whatever, and then shatter all that time for the chance of wanton chaos.”
“How long before he decides he no longer needs to hold back at all?” Heather asks.
“Maybe we should find a mind reader to answer that,” I retort. It’s not fair to Heather, but I’m frustrated. We can guess as much as we want, but the fact remains we don’t know enough to even make an educated guess. I’m certain he and Charlemagne were enemies, Charlemagne turning Henry is key to knowing how the vampire was involved at all, but beyond that everything remains in shadow. Because I’m heading up this investigation, however, I need to put that frustration aside – at least in front of the team. “That was rude, sorry,” I add, getting an accepting nod from the Incantator. “Let’s reconnect with Lloyd and Jade, maybe they found something along the grounds.”
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We make our way out of the mansion, and the well-manicured lawn looks completely bizarre after walking through the melted, obliterated interior of the coven house. We find the Centurions behind the mansion, exiting a shed that looks like it may rival my home’s square footage. “Did you find anything?” I ask.
“The shed is a front,” Lloyd replies. “There’s an entrance inside to a bunker, one with coffins.”
“None of them in use though,” Jade adds. “And it looks like no one’s been down there for a while.”
“Everyone’s dead,” I sigh. “Thralls and vampires…Incantator Rand says they didn’t have any time, any warning.”
“Certainly not enough to make it to the bunker,” Heather agrees.
“Any sign of Charlemagne?” Lloyd asks.
“No,” Chiaki answers. “It’s likely he was destroyed along with the coven.”
“Damn. I always thought someone like him would have a more…dramatic death,” Lloyd replies.
“It also means Erra could wipe out the other two covens with little problem then,” Jade murmurs.
“I think there was a prior conflict between him and Charlemagne though,” I reply. “But I’m not completely sure, so we can’t rule out the possibility that he’ll target the other covens in the future. We need to return to headquarters, I don’t think we’re going to find anything else here, and we should get a cleanup crew around before any mundanes see the inside of the mansion.”
It's a solemn affair returning to headquarters. While I didn't know any of the vampires at the Moliere Coven, I'm still grieving the loss of so many lives. I'm grieving the thought of Henry being aware of what's going on, an unwilling participant in slaughter. I have to shake it off as we step off the elevator, however. I need to give my report to Sheldon, and while he may have been cooperative in my going to the coven in the first place, I wouldn't put it past him to bench me for being too "emotionally invested" in things. To be fair, it wouldn't be an incorrect assessment.
My companions from the investigation all exit the elevator before it reaches the top floor, and I go down the hallway towards Sheldon’s office alone. I knock on the door, wait for him to summon me inside, and step into the office.
“Averline?” he prompts.
“I’m here to give my report on the Moliere Coven,” I begin before I explain what we found. Namely, more death. It’s not exactly like the market though, because the coven was targeted while those who died when Erra returned seemed to just be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sheldon looks thoughtful as my report concludes, assessing the information.
“Charlemagne thought to use his position as Stone’s sire to have control over Erra,” he finally says. “A Sire will always have some control over his progeny, and given how powerful Charlemagne is – or was – it makes sense he would think his influence would affect Erra.”
“Which explains why Erra would want him gone,” I agree. My heart is pounding in my chest despite my outward calm. What does all of this mean for Henry? I need to know how to help him, but there’s no one I can ask. Least of all Joseph Sheldon. “What about the Fae that was with Erra?”
“Muir?” Sheldon frowns. “We’ll know more when the Inquisition agent arrives, they’ve kept tabs on Muir over the years.”
“Maybe I could look for information in the Archives,” I suggest.
“We don’t know if Margadh Sióg is safe,” Sheldon replies tersely. “It would be best if you actually practice patience for a change, Mr. Averline.”
“So…sit around until the agent gets here?” I demand.
“Do your job,” he suggests. “No one here is merely ‘waiting’ for a moment to be the hero. There are other cases that must be dealt with.”
I narrow my eyes, jaw clenching as a million insults jump to the tip of my tongue. I fight them back, however, because I don’t want to give him any reason for taking me off the case.
“Can I at least know when this agent is expected?”
“Twelve days.”
“Great,” I reply through my teeth.
“You’re dismissed.”
I don’t need him to tell me twice and I depart the office as quickly as I can without being too obvious about it. I know I won’t be able to concentrate on anything else, especially not for that long. The instant I take my mind off this case, I fear I’ll lose Henry for good. As I ride the elevator back to the fifth floor, I try to determine my best course of action. I can’t literally sit around the office doing nothing, but as the doors slide open, I do finally have a workaround in mind. It’s going to be an odd time, I suppose, but it’s been ages since I took leave and I’m long overdue for some. So, instead of going to my office, I make my way to Chief Glass.
“Mr. Averline, how can I help you?” he asks once I step into his office.
“I’d like to put in for some leave,” I reply.
He blinks, and looks from his desktop screen to me like I spoke in tongues. “Now?”
“Yes. I was informed that the Inquisition agent won’t be here for twelve days, I haven’t taken leave in a long time, and frankly…if things with Erra get as bad as Sheldon and others say then…this may be my last chance.”
“I see your point,” he concedes. “Location and duration?”
“Long Island, to visit my parents, and let’s just say four days, Friday through Monday.”
“New York…”
“It’s purely coincidental, Chief.”
“It better be, Averline, because it’s my ass on the line if you do something stupid.”
“I won’t exceed the bounds of my request,” I insist, embracing the fact that I’m a liar. I won’t have any luck defeating Erra by myself, I wouldn’t even try, but maybe…just maybe I can get him to agree to let Henry go. I keep my face as neutral as possible as Chief inputs the date and location, and I do genuinely hope I don’t get him in trouble for it. Sheldon is going to make the same connection when he sees it, I just have to hope he won’t immediately call me back from leave to prevent any incidents.
With that in mind, I keep my head down for the rest of the afternoon, with plans to be on my very best behavior tomorrow so I can get out of here the day after. Hopefully. Given how busy Sheldon is these days, maybe he won’t even see the approved request until after I’m back in Massachusetts.
There’s another thing I must prepare for before the trip, however, and that is the unbelievable patience I need to start building now before I’m face-to-face with Mom. It’s been a while, blissful months of not speaking to one another since she was just ‘so offended’ at my getting surgery without her blessing. Erra may be some drastic personification of death, but Deborah Marie Averline is someone I dread far more than anyone else.