At the top of the stairs, he encountered another of his father's guardsmen. This one gave him one look and decided he wanted nothing to do with him as he took a couple of steps back and attempted to flee. Atticus caught him before he had made it three steps down the hall and slammed his fist through the man's back. The man thrashed in his grasp; gurgling sounds escaped him as Atticus wrapped his hand around the man's heart and tore it out. He crushed it within his hand before dropping it on the floor.
A small moment of clarity returned to him when he turned his hand over before him. The blood dripped from it and onto the ground with a soft plop. It was almost impossible to believe that the hand was his but as he fisted it before him and lifted his head to focus on the door of his father's solar, he knew that it was his and it had more to do. Walking down the hall, he grabbed hold of the handle and flung the door open.
His father spun from where he stood by the window. "Who dares to enter without…" his voice trailed off, he took an abrupt step back when Atticus stepped into the room. His father gawked at him as his gaze raked over him. "Atticus, what happened to you? What have you done?"
"What have I done?" he grated from between his teeth. "What did you do?"
His father took another step back as Atticus stepped further into the room. "I did what had to be done," he replied.
Atticus hadn't expected him to deny it, but red filled his vision and bloodlust burst hotly through him when his father admitted his role in Genny's death with such a nonchalant tone. Genny was dead because of this man, he might as well be dead too, and his father was staring at him as if it was all perfectly acceptable. The man was so dense, so sure of his power and ability that he had no idea what was standing across from him right now.
But he was about to.
Grabbing hold of one of the chairs, Atticus lifted it above his head and heaved it at the wall when his father made a move to get back toward the table. A cruel smile twisted his lips when his father jumped and took a step away from the debris that shattered outward. Atticus enjoyed the apprehension radiating from him, enjoyed playing with him, and making him squirm. He was going to enjoy it even more when he ripped the man's throat out though.
"Who do you think you are?" his father demanded.
"I'm the one that's going to kill you," Atticus replied flatly.
His father laughed and wiped the bits of debris away from his tunic. "I've more fear of a grasshopper."
His father went to move again but Atticus rested his hands on the sides of the table and shoved forward with all of his might. The three hundred pound wood table slid effortlessly across the room and pinned his father against the wall. "Bloody hell!" his father blurted.
Red eyes met Atticus's but when his father went to push the table away Atticus leapt forward and smashed his hands against the sides to keep it pinned against him. "I don't think a grasshopper can do that," he growled.
His father's nostrils flared, he rested both hands against the table and tried to shove it away. The muscles in Atticus's forearms and biceps bulged against the pressure being placed on them. His teeth clenched together but drawing on the wrath that filled him, the mass quantities of blood he'd consumed tonight, the extra power that Genny's blood had given to him, and his powerful lineage, he was able to keep the table pinned against his father.
"Why?" Atticus demanded. "Why did you do it?"
"Do you honestly think I was going to allow some village whore…" Atticus slid the table back a few inches but before his father could break free, he remorselessly pushed it into his father again. Grim satisfaction filled him as the resounding crack of his father's hip filled the room. His father was able to suppress a cry but he couldn't stop himself from slumping onto the table.
Atticus smiled cruelly at him as he shook his straggling, blood-drenched hair away from his eyes. "I told you before, don't ever talk about her like that!"
"Let me out of here, now."
Atticus released a harsh bark of laughter before leaning over the table toward his father. "It's amusing how you still seem to think you have some control over this situation, over me. Don't you understand yet? I'm not your son. Your son died the second that she did." For the first time apprehension flickered over his father's features. His eyes rapidly ran over him before settling on his left hand. Atticus had taken the ring off and placed it in his pocket when he'd met with his father earlier, but he'd slipped it on before coming back here. "The second that my wife died. You have no say over me, no control. You are not in charge here. Now tell me why? I had agreed to marry Anna…"
"You think Silas was going to allow you to marry his daughter when he found out you were keeping a mistress? No. There was no way I was going to allow this marriage to fall through because of some village…" his words trailed off when Atticus's upper lip curled back and a snarl escaped him. "Some woman."
"How did you do it?"
"Atticus…"
"Tell me!" he roared and placed more pressure against his father's hip.
His father winced, his hand clenched on the table as he strained to stay upright. "I had some of my men go into the human village and rile up the humans. They planted seeds of mistrust about what resided next door."
"And you told them what time to attack?" he demanded.
"I did," his father admitted. "She went to that school almost every day."
"Pathetic." Atticus raked his father with a scathing glance. "You threw away your life to ensure a marriage that you'll never live to see."
His father's eyebrows shot up as he realized that this wasn't merely just an argument or a simple physical altercation. This was a fight to the death and he was already on the losing end of it. His gaze darted frantically toward the doorway. Atticus had never seen his father even a little ruffled; it entertained him to see him so terrified now.
"Guards!" his father shouted.
Atticus laughed at him. "Shout it again," he taunted.
"Guards!" He yelled again, except this time Atticus yelled it loudly and laughingly with him.
"Oh guards!" Atticus called once more in a mocking tone of voice and pushed the table in a little more. His father's face twisted in agony, his hand fell onto the table as his body was forced over it. "I don't think they're coming. As a matter of fact, I know they're not coming. Do you know how I know?" he leaned toward his father and smiled to reveal his fangs. "Because I already killed them all. Just like I'm going to kill you."
Grabbing hold of the end of the table, Atticus flung it smoothly up as if it weighed no more than a log. It flipped end over end before smashing against the far wall. Freed, his father lurched to the side but he didn't come at Atticus like he had before. Instead, he seized upon this opportunity as a pitiful chance at escape. He hobbled toward the open door with his left foot dragging on the ground behind him. Atticus followed behind him, grim satisfaction filling him as he watched the man limp awkwardly down the hallway toward the stairs. His father paused only briefly to gawk at the crushed heart lying beside the guard at the top of the stairs.
"Aren't you stronger than me?" Atticus mocked as his father made it to the stairs. He paused in his pursuit of his father to pick up the body of the guard. He swung it easily over his shoulders as he strolled leisurely down the stairs behind his father. "Isn't that what you always remind me of? I'm not strong enough to take you yet."
His father glanced back at him before continuing in his awkward movements down the stairs. "Why are you running then father?" he inquired. "Why not face me and teach me a lesson?"
His father was only three feet away from the bottom of the steps when Atticus raced past him to the bottom of the stairs. He dropped the body of the guard carelessly onto the other two and leaned his elbow on the rail of the stairs. Folding his fingers before him, he smiled up at the horrified face of his father. "I think I may be old enough to take you now. What do you think father?"
Before his father could even blink he was on top of him, bringing him down beneath him. Perverse glee suff
used Atticus as he wrenched his father's neck to the side and sank his fangs into his throat.
***
Atticus stepped back to survey the bodies he'd gathered around the massive table in the main hall. Most of the bodies were now as useless as the table always had been. He didn't know what had possessed him, but he'd felt the inescapable urge to place what remained of the servants and guards there. To make his father see what it was that he had pushed his own son to become before Atticus finished him off. He dropped the body of his father's favorite guard into the chair at the end of the table, across from where his father sat. He pushed the chair in before walking down to where his father sat at the head of the table.
He grabbed one of the candles from the table and lit it off of a torch hanging in the sconces lining the walls. Walking back, he placed the flame before his father and slid into the empty chair to the left of his father. His father's eyes slid to him but Atticus had taken too much of his blood for him to be able to move, rather he'd left just enough so that his father was well aware of his surroundings.
Leaning forward Atticus folded his hands before him as he stared into his father's rolling brown eyes. "If you're thinking I've changed my mind and decided you can live, I'm going to assure you that you're wrong." A muffled sound escaped his father but there wasn't even enough blood left in him for his lips to move. "I simply wanted you to see." Atticus waved a hand around the table as he sat back again. "What it is that I am capable of now, because of you."
His father's eyes flew around the room before focusing on him again. "Atticus." The word was barely discernible.
"I suppose you're going to say it was for my best, that you only did what had to be done and that you were only thinking of me."
"Yes."
"But as you can see now, it wasn't for the greater good, especially not yours. When you set those humans upon that village, you took all of the good that was inside of me and destroyed it. You see father." He leaned so close to him that their noses were nearly touching as he smiled at him again. "When she died she took my soul with her. Now there's nothing left but a hole that will never be filled again. All that's left now is a monster that is going to make everyone pay. I will make humans suffer in ways they never imagined possible, I will make them live like the insects that they are, and I will destroy any vampire that stands in the way of my goal. I will do whatever it takes; squash whoever I must in order to make sure that this world feels my wrath."
His hand fell on top of his father's; he patted it as he gave a little laugh. "And you dear father are the first one that I am going to crush. The ironic thing is that by having the humans riot, you gave me the perfect way to cover up your death. I will be the dutiful grieving son after you are gone, but one day father, I will wrench power away from The Council and unleash hell on them all."
He rose from the table and calmly pushed in his chair before walking behind his father and resting his hands on his shoulders. Bending down, his lips were only inches away from his father's ear when he spoke again. "You were trying to create a man that would snivel at your feet. A man that would be like your guards and obey your every whim, you believed me only a boy that was weaker than you, but I am no boy."
He slapped his hands on his father's shoulders before rising to his full height. He strolled across the room and grabbed one of the torches before walking over to stand by the table again. "I bet you never thought that when you set forth an event meant to punish and dominate me, all you would create was the monster that would destroy you. You see father, her blood in my veins made me stronger." His father's eyes widened at the revelation of an exchange that was completely unheard of in their world. "But when you ripped her away from me, you unleashed something primitive and volatile. My bloodlines are far more superior than you ever knew."
He bent before his father one final time. "I hope you rot in Hell."
"Don't… don't do this," he managed to get out.
"Oh don't beg father, it's so unbecoming. I bet Genny didn't beg for her life." He walked to the door and turned back to survey the table and the bodies posed around it. There was something as sick and twisted about this exhibit as what was inside of him now and he took pleasure in seeing everyone gathered there.
Next time, he vowed. I'll draw it out. Next time they'll all know the despair of being alive but not being able to live. They'll know the torment of being mostly dead while forced to continue on. They'll know what it's like to be me.
He wished he could extend the punishment of his father out for years, but that wasn't going to be possible. With regret, he tossed the torch onto the rushes lining the floor. His father made some kind of panicked noise, his fingers tapped on the table but it was the only movement he could make in his state.
The heat of the flames licked at Atticus, blew the hair back from his face and dried the blood clinging to him as the rushes caught and the fire rapidly began to spread. With the fire came the knowledge that he could simply walk forward, step into the flames now climbing up the walls and leaping toward the table. He could let it all go and be with Genny again. It didn't matter if there was something beyond this life, or not, he would be with her again at least in some way, and death seemed like a much more pleasurable option than this bleak existence without her. He could walk away from the rage and grief consuming him simply by allowing the crackling flames to devour him.
The prospect was so entirely promising that he closed his eyes, held his palms out beside him and tilted his head back as the fire licked up the walls and his father's muffled sounds became more distressed.
If he gave in now though, Genny's death would go unavenged and there were so many more out there that had to pay. Opening his eyes, he resigned himself to the fact that now was not the time for him. He could not be rewarded with death until he completed his mission.
He watched the fire consume his father's body before turning around and walking away. The heat of the blaze beat against his back and blew his hair forward as he emerged from the manor. Without looking back, he walked toward where he had left Genny's body.
- CHAPTER 23 -
He spotted the shadow amongst the trees before he was halfway across the clearing. The bitter scent of fear and the salty tang of tears drifted forth in potent waves along with the acrid aroma of smoke and roses. "Camille," he greeted coldly.
Tears streaked her dirt and soot stained cheeks but her eyes were red as she rose from her position beside Genny's body. Her gazed drifted past him to the fire he could still feel the heat of against his back. "Your father caused this," she stated flatly.
Something in his mind whispered at him to kill her, to put her down. She was a witness to what he had just done; the only one that could reveal that it hadn't been a raid by the humans that had killed his father. The bloodlust rose within him, shimmered through his twisted mind, and urged him to sink his fangs into her neck but what little remained of his compassion reared to life.
Genny could forgive him for anything, he knew that, but she would never forgive him if he harmed her sister. He would rather be caught and sentenced to death than do the one thing that would have made Genny despise him. There was only a sliver of kindness left within him and Camille was the last remaining vampire in existence that could bring it out of him.
"He did," Atticus confirmed.
"He's dead."
"He is."
Her chin jutted out and she nodded briskly. "Good." Her gaze drifted down to Genny, more tears spilled from her eyes. "It should have been me."
"She saved you." It wasn't a question, upon seeing where the arrows had been located on Genny's body, and not seeing Camille's body nearby, he'd suspected that Genny had been trying to block the arrows from hitting her sister.
"She did but she shouldn't have, she…" Camille broke off as she choked on a sob. "You both had a life planned. She'd finally found happiness, she was finally safe. It should have been me."
He'd thought his temper would fray at the confirmation of what Ge
nny had done; instead all he felt was acceptance. It had been Genny's last act to ensure her sister's life, and he would make sure to keep Camille alive. Camille lifted her head to examine him; her gaze slid over his body but instead of looking repulsed and horrified more tears rapidly slid down her cheeks. He remained immobile before her, his face expressionless.
"It wasn't just Genny that was lost tonight, was it?" Camille asked tremulously.
Atticus knew that she wasn't talking about the other vampires and humans that had been killed tonight as her gaze remained riveted upon him. "No."
Her head bowed before she knelt at her sister's side again. "Now what?"
"Now we bury her."
"Where?"
"I know where. I have to get a shovel."
He turned away from her and walked to the barn to retrieve a shovel from within. The manor was beginning to crumble in on itself when he reemerged. He stopped to watch as the last bit of proof of what had occurred within burned away. Turning away from the building he hurried to rejoin Camille.
He handed her the shovel before bending to carefully lift Genny's body from where she lay. He repressed the overwhelming urge to cry as he cradled her against his chest and kissed her forehead.
Camille stayed close by his side; her steps were silent as she followed him to the log that crossed the river. Staring at the log, he was struck by the memory of Genny sitting upon it in her chemise. Drops of water fell into the water from her toes skimming across the surface of the river. The sun shone down upon her and highlighted her raven hair and pale complexion. The memory was so vivid that he could almost touch her as she turned to him with that playful smile upon her face and a twinkle in her glimmering black eyes. She was there before him, her love shining from her like a beacon that would forever call to his soul.
Heartbreak twisted his chest. The grief almost drove him to his knees but he somehow managed to keep standing as the image of her faded away and he was left with nothing but the empty shadows of the forest, and the hum of the insects surrounding them. Now she would always be nothing more than a passing dream, a persistent memory, and a promise of hopes never to be fulfilled and a life forever denied to them both.