I shoved the stairwell door open, and it clanged shut behind me, the echo reverberating like a gunshot. The walls were steel-gray, unadorned, and cold. No blood here—just the smell of antiseptic and stale air. It felt wrong. A place like this shouldn’t be clean.
Faraday followed without a word, his movements fluid, silent. He was like a shadow at my back, his presence a constant reminder of the power I held—and the danger of losing it.
Every step upward felt heavier than the last. My body was strong, stronger than it had ever been, but my mind was fracturing under the strain. Each time I used the compulsion, I could feel it pulling at something deep inside me, a thread unraveling bit by bit.
“Tell me,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence. “What’s waiting for me up there?”
Faraday’s red eyes flicked toward me, his expression unreadable. “Death. For you. For them. Perhaps for all of us.”
I stopped mid-step, the tension snapping like a whip. “Don’t toy with me.”
His lips curved into the faintest smile. “It’s the truth. They know you’re coming. Conrad isn’t one to underestimate his enemies.”
“I’m not his enemy,” I growled. “I’m his mistake.”
The words came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. Conrad had underestimated me once, and it had cost him Mika. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again—but neither would I.
The cameras above blinked red, their tiny lights a constant reminder that I was being watched. They would be sending vampires now—hunters, soldiers, or worse. Good. Let them come.
I started climbing again, each step a declaration. My anger burned hotter with every floor, driving me forward, drowning out the voices in my head.
Faraday moved ahead of me, his steps unhurried yet purposeful, like a predator stalking prey. The air in the stairwell felt heavy, charged with tension. The echoes of footsteps above grew louder, closer—a group of vampires descending at supernatural speed, their movements a blur of malice.
The first of them came into view—four vampires in sleek, grey suits, their eyes glowing faintly, their fangs bared. They weren’t the panicked, disorganized kind I’d encountered earlier. These were killers, efficient and lethal.
They barely paused before they attacked, blitzing down the stairs with unnatural speed, their movements a synchronized storm of strength and aggression.
Faraday didn’t flinch. He stood at the base of the stairs, his posture calm, almost dismissive. His crimson eyes flickered with a hint of something sharp and calculating.
As the first two vampires closed in, Faraday shifted subtly, his stance widening. His body coiled like a spring before exploding into motion.
The first attacker lunged, aiming a clawed hand for Faraday’s throat. With fluid precision, Faraday stepped inside the strike, his left hand deflecting the blow while his right fist shot forward. The punch connected with brutal force, shattering the vampire’s jaw and sending him crashing into the wall with a sickening crunch.
The remaining vampires circled him, their movements wary now, but Faraday didn’t wait for them to attack. He surged forward, closing the distance in a blur.
One vampire swung a clawed hand toward his face. Faraday caught the wrist mid-swing, his grip unyielding, and twisted sharply. The sound of bones snapping echoed through the stairwell as he used the vampire’s momentum to hurl him into his companion.
The last two vampires came at him together, their strikes coordinated. Faraday dropped into a low stance, his movements impossibly fast, and delivered a rapid series of Bartitsu strikes—a jab to the throat, a hook to the temple, and a devastating uppercut that lifted one attacker off his feet.
The final vampire hesitated for a fraction of a second, and it was all Faraday needed. He closed the gap in a single step, his fist crashing into the vampire’s chest with enough force to shatter ribs and stop his heart mid-beat.
The bodies fell around him, broken and lifeless.
Faraday stood amidst the carnage, his crimson eyes gleaming with a cold, detached focus. His suit remained immaculate, not a single wrinkle or speck of blood marring its surface. He turned to me, his expression blank, waiting for the next command.
I swallowed hard, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “Let’s keep moving,” I said, my voice low.
Faraday inclined his head slightly, a silent acknowledgment, and we ascended the stairs together, leaving the broken remains of his opponents behind.
Every floor felt like a battle against my own fear. The memories, the ones that kept clawing at my mind, were growing stronger as I rose. I wasn’t just facing Conrad anymore. I was facing his legacy, his control over everything—and his hold over me. The visions kept flooding in, one after another, too fast to fully process, but still so vivid they burned into my brain.
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The 1930s.
Faraday, standing still in the center of a dimly lit room. His expression was unreadable. He was always unreadable. A mobster lay strapped to an old wooden chair, a wire attached to his neck, the other end connected to an electric generator. Faraday’s eyes flashed crimson as the man screamed, a desperate cry for mercy filling the air with his body jerking violently with each shock.
“Master wants answers,” Faraday said flatly, his voice like ice. “Give them, or we keep going.”
The man’s face twisted in pain, his eyes wide with fear, all because of Conrad’s desire for control over the Mafia families. Those families had been bled dry—Conrad using them to fuel his hunger, kidnapping humans to stock his growing army.
The 1950s.
Faraday’s voice was flat. “Should we kill them, Master? The family...they could be used for blood, but their deaths would be...clean.”
Conrad had responded, his voice smooth and cold. “No. Not yet. The banker is valuable. It’s better to have him working for us with motivation, than to turn him into a puppet with compulsion.”
The banker. He had been a threat, someone poking around in Conrad’s affairs—someone who’d learned too much about the financial web Conrad had spun. Faraday had been ordered to kidnap his family, to break him, to make him bend to their will.
The memories weighed on me like chains, but they were far more than just images; they were shaping me, feeding my desire for vengeance. Conrad had manipulated everyone around him—every family, every life, until all were his to control.
Faraday had done the dirty work, but it was Conrad pulling the strings. He wasn’t just a vampire; he was a charismatic monster, manipulating people, getting Mafia families to feed his wealth. All for the power. All for control over the living and the dead.
And I was caught in the middle.
The air was thick as we reached another landing, and I could feel them now—five vampires, moving with impossible speed. They were coming, their presence buzzing in the air, and I could almost taste their hatred.
The first appeared, his eyes glowing with malevolent intent, his fangs extended, a hulking brute. He charged forward, arms wide, expecting to crush me with sheer force.
But I wasn’t the same as I had been before. My senses had heightened—Faraday’s blood coursed through me, a flood of ancient memories, emotions, and instincts. The Flux in my veins was a tempest. His strength was mine, his ferocity, his rage. I didn’t flinch as he came toward me. I didn’t need to.
Faraday was already on the move. He closed the gap in an instant, his claws slashing through the air. The vampire barely had time to react before Faraday’s claws raked across his chest, the sound of tearing flesh ringing through the stairwell. The brute crumpled to the floor in a heap, lifeless, his blood pooling on the cold concrete.
Before I could process it, another vampire lunged at Faraday’s back. He was fast, but not fast enough. Faraday pivoted, and with a move so fluid, so controlled, he struck. A Savate kick to the vampire’s ribs, a brutal, low strike that sent the creature sprawling into the wall. The vampire gasped, a sound of agony before the light left his eyes.
The third one moved forward, circling Faraday with calculated steps. He thought he could outmaneuver him—he thought wrong. Faraday didn’t hesitate. He dashed forward, his claws swiping across the vampire’s throat in a blur. The vampire’s head was sent rolling from his body, and the rest of him crumpled to the floor.
There were only two left. I could feel them, their cold eyes watching us from the shadows, their fangs bared. They were more cautious now. But caution was a death sentence in Faraday’s presence.
The first to attack was an elegant creature, his movements fast, graceful—but predictable. Faraday caught him mid-lunge, twisting the vampire’s arm, snapping it with the force of centuries of experience. The vampire let out a scream, but it was cut short as Faraday’s claws sank deep into his chest, tearing through muscle, bone, and heart.
And then the last one—a woman, her face pale, her eyes wide with shock. Faraday didn’t even look at her. She rushed at him, fangs bared, but Faraday sidestepped with ease. She was too slow. With a sharp movement, Faraday’s fist connected with her jaw. Her head snapped back, the force of the punch enough to separate her head from her body. The body crumpled to the floor, and Faraday turned away, wiping the blood from his claws as if it were nothing.
Another group appeared ahead—this time four vampires, charging in. They were faster, smarter, their strikes more precise. But Faraday was already moving. He dove into the group, his body fluid, twisting between their attacks. The first vampire lunged at his side, but Faraday was already gone. He reappeared behind the vampire, a clawed hand driving deep into the creature’s back. He ripped the heart out in one swift motion.
The others hesitated, but it was too late. Faraday was already on them, his strikes precise, deadly. A rapid series of punches and claws. One was decapitated with a swift move, another with a twist of the neck, and the third was disemboweled with a clean cut. The final vampire only had time to meet Faraday’s gaze before the clawed hand ended its life with brutal finality.
Each kill, each body that fell to Faraday’s hands, fed the fire inside me, but it wasn’t just anger. It was a dark understanding. I could see myself in those flashes: the man who had no choice but to obey, the pawn to a larger game. My rage built with every floor we ascended. I was no better than any of those I saw in the memories—no better than the broken banker, the trembling mobster, or Faraday himself.
We passed floor after floor, vampires coming at us in waves. Faraday’s efficiency didn’t lessen. He moved through the groups like a machine—quick, deadly, detached. I was starting to feel the weight of the climb. Each kill, each fight was pushing me closer to the edge, but I couldn’t stop.
The growing tension was palpable now. We were close.
Floor fifty was in sight. My heart pounded, my hands clenched into fists. The building had been silent for a moment—too quiet. I had expected another wave of vampires, but as we rounded the last corner, I was met with an unexpected sight.
A figure stood at the end of the hall, cloaked in shadow. Even from a distance, I could feel the presence. He was old, ancient even, like Faraday, but his aura was different—more calculating. More dangerous.
Faraday paused beside me. I could feel his body tense, but he didn’t move. “You were warned,” he said quietly. “The end is near.”
I tried to steady my breath, but there was no escaping the fear bubbling up inside me. Not fear of dying, but fear of losing everything.
This wasn’t just about killing Conrad anymore. It was about surviving what came next.
The figure stepped forward, and as the dim light touched his face, I saw the cold, calculating eyes of an elder vampire, as old as Faraday but far more terrifying.
“I see you’ve made it this far,” the elder’s voice was a rasping whisper, each word heavy with centuries of knowledge. “But this is where it ends.”
I swallowed, my heart racing, and I looked back at Faraday—his face unreadable. I wasn’t ready for this. Not this.