A Twist of Fates

  “By ship,” he said. “I came with Cecil. Victoria, what—?”

  I silenced him with another passionate kiss before whispering, “We need to get out of this water before some sea animal swallows us… We need to head to your ship.”

  Ben

  There was no one better suited than me to visit Cruor. I had roamed the land for God knew how long when I was a spirit. That had been soon after I’d lost my body. And as a fae, there wasn’t even a conceivable risk to me.

  I also resisted taking anybody with me, even though my father tried to insist. Cruor was not a place that I wanted to inflict on others. It was bad enough that I had to go.

  And so it was decided that everybody else would remain in The Tavern. While I was gone, they could make use of their time and ask within the island if anybody knew of the kids—The Tavern was, after all, a stopover for many supernaturals. There was a possibility that they could have spent some time here on their way to Cruor.

  Everybody’s faces were solemn as they said goodbye and wished me good luck. I tried to lighten the mood, saying that I was hardly walking to my death… But I couldn’t deny that a part of me was still afraid.

  Taking to the air, I left The Tavern and hurtled toward Cruor. I remembered the route surprisingly well and arrived there much sooner than I had expected to.

  The outline of the island looming in the distance didn’t fail to send a shiver down my spine. The reddish sky, the jagged black mountains—it was the picture of Hell itself.

  As I reached the shore and hovered over the land, I felt myself drawn to the spot where I had left my old vampire body. I wanted to see if I could remember where it was.

  I could.

  I couldn’t forget the route that Julie had traveled with me, taking me up to that crater and leaving me at the mercy of Basilius, the universe’s most formidable Elder. I located the spot swiftly, although my body was no longer there.

  Julie. She had certainly got her comeuppance for what she had done to me. I wondered what had happened to her. Whether she was still around somewhere as a Bloodless. Or whether she might’ve been dismembered by someone already.

  She and another Bloodless she had been traveling with had been the ones to start the whole epidemic on Earth, as hard as that was to conceive. It only took two of those insidious creatures… Those insidious creatures, whom my daughter has now joined.

  The thought snapped me out of my brief reverie. Those kids. Where could I possibly find clues about them in this desolate land? I wondered if the Elders even still existed, or whether they had become so drained of life that their presence could barely even be felt anymore. I guessed I would find out. I needed to search this realm thoroughly, not just out in the open but deep in the bowels of the mountains also.

  And so I started, returning to the shore and trying to be methodical in my approach. I didn’t want to think how long it would take me to search the entirety of Cruor… if that was even possible.

  I needed to hope that I would stumble across something, anything, sooner rather than later… Even as I was aware of how naïve such a wish was.

  I moved up and down the area around the shore, back and forth, the way one would mow a lawn.

  Then I returned to the hole from which Basilius had risen before his attempt to claim my body. Drawing a deep breath, I sped down into it. I unconsciously thinned myself, even though there was no reason to—they couldn’t inhabit a fae’s body even in its physical form—just to ease my nerves.

  In a way, coming to this land felt cathartic. It was good to face one’s fears. It only made one stronger. The oracle had taught me enough to know that.

  As I reached the end of the crater, I emerged at the entrance of a massive chamber. I passed through the tunnel shooting off from it, leading to more interconnected chambers. All of them were bare and damp. Any signs of habitation were long gone. As I moved through the tunnels, my time roaming Cruor as a ghost played vividly in my mind.

  I searched as quickly and efficiently as I could for the next three hours—sometimes above land, sometimes beneath it. By the time the fourth hour drew in, the hopelessness of this endeavor was starting to overcome me.

  What, exactly, am I expecting to find here anyway? How could those vamp-Hawks still be here? There was nothing visible around that was even remotely worth eating. How would they have survived? Something or someone would have had to feed them, keep them alive.

  Desperation had a way of clouding one’s judgement. And that was exactly what had happened here. Still, since I had come to this country already, I decided to explore for an hour longer. My search took me deeper underground, so deep that I was amazed chambers even existed at such a low level.

  As I had gone as deep as I could, I came across a network of chambers filled with large, empty craters. Once-filled pools. This was where they had stored their blood during the Elders’ glory days—collected by all the vampires they had recruited.

  Thank God those days are long gone.

  And to think, Basilius had wanted to recruit me to help in the Elders’ resurgence—to help fill these ponds again and nurse the vile creatures back to life. I could hardly think of a more horrific proposition… and that was exactly why I had opted to become a ghost.

  As much of a bastard as Arron had been, I couldn’t help but be eternally grateful to him. I owed him more than just my life.

  I gazed around the chambers a few more seconds before sighing and glancing back up at the ceiling. It was probably time that I left.

  But as I began to soar upwards, something caught my eye. A movement to my left on the wall. Something dark. A shadow?

  “Who goes there?” I demanded.

  “What brings you here?” A faint hiss spoke back, so soft that I almost missed it.

  I stopped breathing for a few seconds as I stared at the shadow. So at least one Elder still exists.

  “What is your name?” I asked.

  There was a moment of silence before the Elder replied, “You… Benjamin Novak… You could have been great.”

  I gaped. Could this be… Could this be Basilius himself?

  He knew my name. Though I supposed that I was rather famous among the Elders, having been their only hope of resurgence for so many years. I suspected all of them knew my name.

  “Basilius?” I dared ask.

  “Yes,” came the hiss. “The last of all the Elders, thanks to your stupidity.”

  My pleasure, I wanted to retort, but as harmless as this Elder was supposed to be now, I could not quite bring myself to taunt him. These beings, heard and felt but rarely seen, still brought nightmares for me from time to time.

  “You could have been great,” he repeated, going on with this pointless diatribe. “You could have been a ruler.”

  “I am a ruler now,” I replied stiffly. “And your definition of greatness is not mine.” To put it mildly…

  Since the Elder seemed to be in at least somewhat of a mood for talking, I decided to see how far I could get with him in extracting information… assuming he had any information to offer in the first place.

  I imagined that he must be rather bored. I mean, what is he doing all day? Just moping around as a shadow? Clinging to the walls? Maybe he was glad for the company, something living that he could interact with.

  “Have you been down here all this time? Ever since I last saw you?” I asked.

  “What do you think?” he replied.

  “I don’t know.”

  “No,” came the hiss. “I have not. I have been above and below… but what concern of that is yours? You abandoned us many, many moons ago, Benjamin Novak. Even after all the power I offered you…”

  Something told me he wasn’t going to stop reminding me of what a great opportunity I’d missed out on, even now that there was no point. He could witness that I was a fae now, couldn’t he? What was the point in bringing up the past? I supposed he must’ve been wallowing in regret all these years, replaying that moment again and again in his mi
nd—that moment when I had drank from the vial and become lost to him forever.

  “I am just mildly interested,” I replied, nonchalant. I paused, wondering how to make my next move. “Actually, if you must know,” I went on, “I’ve come to this realm in search of a specimen that I believe you might have some interest in.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Something that your kind and the Hawks would consider an abomination of nature.”

  I was feeding him bits of information, hoping that he might come out with it on his own—“Oh, yes, a third human, a third Hawk, a third vampire babies”—but that was being overly optimistic.

  “Who?” he demanded, his voice becoming more impatient.

  I exhaled. “Some children who were a mixture of Hawk, human and vampire. Babies bred from the egg of a half-blood and the sperm of a Hawk…” Or maybe even vice versa.

  As I thought about the process, I found myself feeling more and more uneasy about the prospect that one of those kids could possibly be River’s. Who might have been the father of that child?

  It really would be weird.

  “An atrocity,” Basilius said, his voice lowering in anger.

  Yeah, I thought you’d say something like that.

  “Anyway, I guess you’re not aware of them,” I added casually.

  “No,” he said.

  “And do you have any, um, companions at all?”

  “Did I not tell you that I am the last Elder?” he snapped.

  “Oh, yeah, you did,” I muttered. Sorry to rub it in. I ran a hand through my hair before dragging it down my face. “Well, if you’re really sure that you haven’t seen them, I suppose the two of us have nothing more to talk about… I won’t take up your precious time any longer.”

  “Wait, Benjamin Novak,” the Elder said.

  I caught his shadow moving closer to me… until he was surrounding me. My chest constricted. I held my breath, as though if I breathed, I might breathe in his spirit.

  But the Elders weren’t like ordinary ghosts. They could only inhabit bodies under specific conditions… conditions which would never arise again. Or at least that was how I comforted myself.

  The shadow moved around me in a circle before stopping in front of me, two feet away.

  Then the Elder spoke again. “Benjamin Novak… Would you spare some of your blood? A small slit of the wrist… Leave just a few drops on this floor?”

  My jaw dropped. I stood, stunned by his request. The Elder had the gall to ask me for such a thing? After everything? He wanted me to cause bodily harm to myself so that he could enjoy my blood? I could hardly believe my ears.

  “Even your fae blood would be a treat,” he added, as if hoping that would somehow endear him to me.

  Glaring at his shadow, I said, “You’ve claimed enough blood to suffer in hell for a million years… So long, Basilius. You won’t be hearing from me again.”

  Lawrence

  I still had no idea what was happening. Why had those flowers been placed at my feet? Why had that man come in to take a picture of me, only to run out a few seconds later?

  I tried to make even the slightest bit of sense of the situation, but hit a brick wall in my reasoning each time.

  How much longer am I going to be kept in here? What does my father plan to do with me? These thoughts plagued my mind again.

  Finally, after so many hours had passed that I had practically lost sense of time, the door opened again and this time it was my father who stepped inside.

  My blood boiled at the sight of him, but, more than anger, I also felt sadness. Sadness that things had come to this between us. Sadness that I could no longer think of him as my father.

  I wasn’t sure if that melancholy would ever go away, no matter how many times he proved himself to be a monster.

  He strode over to me and stopped two feet away, planting his hands on his hips.

  “I suppose you want to know why I’ve kept you here?”

  “However did you guess that?” I replied dryly.

  He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, I’ve come to a decision as to what to do with you… But first, I would like to show you something.”

  The wide screen on the wall came to life and began depicting a news channel. A news channel whose attention quickly grabbed my interest. A picture flashed up on the screen. A photograph of… me. Slumped in a chair, in this very room, looking pale as ever due to the white lighting, with flowers beside me. Funeral flowers. The newscaster was pronouncing me dead. “The experiment failed, unfortunately.”

  My mouth was hanging open as the screen switched off at the end of the broadcast, the image of my “dead” self burned into my brain.

  Had my father gone insane? What is he playing at?

  “Now that this news has been broadcast, none of your friends in The Shade will bother us by sending one of their subtle creatures to look for you.”

  I gaped at him. There were so many thoughts muddling my brain, I didn’t know which to vent first.

  “How do you know they even watch the news?” was the first that I blurted out.

  “I can assure you that they do monitor the news. And the broadcast regarding your death will be circulating for weeks to come. It’s extremely unlikely that they would miss it.”

  “So why? Why are you even still keeping me alive? Why not murder me like you did my mother?”

  My father frowned. His chest heaved before he leaned back against the wall, gazing down at me with a bitter expression. “Because murder is not required,” he said. “In your mother’s case, it was impossible for me to isolate her in a timely manner. She slipped from my grasp. You, on the other hand, are stuck with me. You have been proclaimed to the world as dead. There would be no sense in killing you.”

  “Then what?”

  Instead of answering, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. He dialed a number before speaking. “I’m ready for Chase and the others.”

  Then he returned his phone to his back pocket. “You being a successful product of our enhancement drug—the very first successful product—we are going to keep you for further experimentation. I just wish that you had not refused to be of use to the organization willingly.”

  “What experimentation?” I asked, although I did not expect him to reply.

  He moved to the door and opened it, poking his head out into the corridor. I heard footsteps approaching. And then a large burly blond-haired man in black IBSI uniform entered, followed by six other uniformed men—all of them as well built.

  “So you’re ready?” the blond asked, his eyes falling on me. He had a Canadian accident.

  “Yes,” my father replied. “We are ready.” He turned to me again. “I’m sure you’ve had enough of sitting in this chair by now. We’re going to escort you to your new accommodation. Your long-term accommodation. I have tried to make it as comfortable as possible.”

  The blond, whom I guessed was Chase, walked toward me. Only as he reached within two feet of me did I realize that he was holding a syringe in his hand.

  I was about to protest—as much as I could while strapped to this blasted chair—but to my surprise, my father stepped forward and gripped his arm, pulling him back.

  “I’ve changed my mind, Chase. That won’t be necessary.”

  “Are you sure, sir?” one of the men by the door spoke up. He, too, had a Canadian accent.

  I was in Canada. I had to be. I didn’t recognize any of these men from Chicago. And it was too much of a coincidence that both had Canadian accidents.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” my father replied. “I only recently hit him with a heavy sedative. It’s not good to pump his system full of it again within such a short period of time.”

  Well, thanks for that.

  “So how will we get him downstairs?” Chase asked.

  “We’ll walk him,” my father replied.

  Everyone stared at him—including myself. Why would he risk that? Had these other men alrea
dy taken the drug and become powerful enough to control me if I decided to fight?

  “Lawrence isn’t going to try anything,” he said impatiently.

  It didn’t make sense that he had such confidence in me.

  Chase withdrew a chain of keys from his pocket and slowly unlocked my restraints, until I was able to stand. Pain rolled through my body as I straightened. It wasn’t healthy to sit in that position for as long as I had. My lower back throbbed.

  I stood as tall as the other men, including my father. My eyes flitted to the entrance. My father held my gaze, his eyes cool, observant. Then he nodded toward the door.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Two men stood beside me, holding my arms, while one walked directly in front, two more behind us. In this way we left the room and emerged in a hallway. Its walls were white, and light gray carpets lined the floor. Everything smelled clinical. Surgical.

  Sunlight spilled from a glass walkway in front of us. As we moved through it, my suspicion that we were in Canada was confirmed. We were at the IBSI’s Canadian mountain base. Surrounding us were snow-capped peaks for as far as the eye could see. The compound itself—consisting of the IBSI’s signature brown, oblong buildings—sprawled many miles.

  I supposed it made sense to bring me here. I was out of the way. Just as they’d thought I would be out of the way in that basement in The Woodlands.

  I considered attempting to run against the glass now, smash through it and land in the snow below. But I knew I wouldn’t get far in this wilderness. My father would immediately send recruits to scoop me up—probably hunters riding atop mutants—and then I would have lost whatever leniency my father was showing me. He likely would sedate me again. It would make everything harder in the long run.

  If I ever wanted to escape, I had to act with a cool head.

  They escorted me into an elevator and we descended seven floors, arriving at basement level. They led me down a long, narrow corridor. We stopped at the end of it, in front of a reinforced steel door. There was a hatch near the bottom of it—for pushing food through, I assumed.