The Shadow's Son (The Witch Hunter Saga)

  The moment her knees scraped on the footpath, Zac smelt the blood. He was suddenly very hungry.

  "Are you okay?" he heard himself saying. Before he understood what he was doing, the predator took over. Reaching out, he grasped the woman's arm, helping her to stand, one of her shoes coming loose. Blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders and her red woolen scarf had fallen off. He bent down to pick it up, catching the scent of her blood on the crisp air.

  "Shit," she cursed, hissing as she surveyed the scrapes that now adorned each knee. "Thank you."

  "My pleasure," he smiled lopsidedly at her, handing her back her scarf. She was quite pretty, but she hadn't bothered to look at him yet. "Sorry, I ran into you and all."

  "Oh, that's okay. Shit happens I guess," she waved a hand, barely looking at him. Her accent was thick and he had trouble making out some of the words. She jumped on one heel for a moment, pulling her dislodged shoe back on.

  "Where are you going? Do you need a hand?" he asked, letting concern flood into his voice.

  "Oh," she said, looking down the high street, then back to him, their eyes meeting for the first time. "I'm going to the pub down there a ways." She waived off into the distance vaguely, seemingly more interested in him, once she'd had gotten an eyeful.

  "May I walk you?" he smiled again and gestured to her scraped knees. "Just in case."

  "Sure."

  They walked in silence for a block before she asked, "What's your name? I'm Cassy."

  He let a smile play at his lips before saying, "I'm Zac."

  "Nice to meet you."

  "And you." He let his arm brush against hers, pretending not to notice.

  "Where are you from? Are you American?"

  "Yes, I'm American," he said. "Louisiana."

  "That would explain the accent," she laughed, stopping by a building before a pub, which he assumed was the one she was going to. The street was empty outside, probably due to the weather and the sounds of voices and music drifted out on to the street as the door around the corner opened and closed.

  "Southern through and through. And you?" he asked as he lent against the wall, as close as he could without tearing out her throat there and then.

  "Manchester," she laughed as if it were a joke he should get.

  Reaching out, he tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear, letting his gaze flicker to her mouth, then back to her eyes. "Do you want to go get a drink someplace quiet?"

  That was all it took. She nodded, hardly believing her luck. Zac could never get over how easy it was. He hadn't needed compulsion at all. He lead her down the high street, walking close enough that his arm continuously brushed hers.

  "It's one of those hidden lane way places," he was saying. "You wouldn't know it was here unless someone told you about it."

  "Then how do you know?" she giggled. How he loathed women who giggled.

  "I know one of the bartenders," he winked.

  When they approached a lane that looked deserted enough, he took her arm and guided her down into the darkness. The sound of her heart pumping blood around her body was beginning to drive him mad.

  "Are you sure this is the right way?" She was beginning to sound wary. "It looks too dark."

  Zac stopped and looked back towards the high street, wondering if this had gone far enough. If he had played with her enough to please Regulus. He almost felt sorry that she had to die. She took a step backwards then, as if she sensed the imminent danger. But, he had her far enough in the darkness that it didn't matter what she did next.

  "I confess," he smiled. "I just wanted to get away from the crowd."

  "Why?"

  Fed up with the chase, he pushed her roughly against the wall and for added flair, kissed her. He didn't know if it was surprise, but she opened her mouth to him and began to kiss him back, slipping her tongue into his mouth. It wasn't a particularly nice kiss, not compared to her, but it did the trick. As he felt his fangs elongate and pierce the soft flesh of her tongue, he groaned. Her blood began to trickle into his mouth and trail down the flushed skin of her chin.

  She began to sob and squirm under his grasp as she felt him bite deeper, trying to scream, fists beating uselessly against his chest. A memory flashed through him then, this was the point where Aya had stopped him. He'd disappeared and she came to find him and pull him away from his binge. But, he was a long way from home and Regulus would never call a halt to this.

  He drew back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and placed a hand over her bloodied mouth. Her eyes widened as she beheld the blackness that his green ones had transformed into. "Shh," he whispered into her ear. "Don't scream. You'll only make it worse."

  As the compulsion took hold, he took his hand from her mouth, her lips quivering as she sobbed silently. Pulling her hair from her neck, he tore away her scarf, letting it fall to the ground.

  "Please," she cried. "I don't want to die."

  "We all have to die at some point," he murmured into her ear, his lips brushing her soft skin.

  "I don't want to die. I don't want to die." He couldn't stand her incessant pleading anymore. Covering her mouth with one hand, he sunk his fangs into her neck, pressing himself hard into her small body.

  As the warm, coppery blood ran down his throat, he purred deep in his chest. He'd forgotten how amazing it felt to drink from a human to the point of death. He felt the blood coursing through his veins, awakening a strength he hadn't felt in years. Her struggling became weaker, hands that had beaten furiously, now dropped limply to her sides. As he felt the life leave her, he let go, gasping for breath, her body sliding to the ground.

  "Bravo!" The slow clap that signaled Regulus' approval echoed down the narrow lane. Bastard. "That was quite something, you know. I'd rate it a four out of five."

  Zac let the blood drip down his face as he sunk to his knees. He didn't want to do this anymore, but it felt so good. No mercy where his enemies we concerned. Those, he would tear apart without a second thought. But, this woman was an innocent. He'd hunted her like an animal.

  "That is your nature, Zachary," Regulus said, looking down at him. "You're not human any more. They are to us as cattle are to them. Stop fighting it."

  He thought he had, but obviously not.

  The Roman snorted, "I've got a little job for you. Get this right and I'll get you to do something important for me in the morning."

  "What?" he hissed wiping his face clean with the woman's scarf. He'd already forgotten her name.

  "This one's just killing," he said. "Tomorrow is a lot more involved."

  Pulling himself to his feet, he glared at Regulus. "What do you want me to do?"

  "That's the spirit," he clapped Zac on the shoulder, steering him away from the dead woman. "Three blocks from here you will find a little hole in the wall called The Ship. Nice little place full of tasty tattooed girls and hipsters, whatever they are. Inside you will find a man who is very much a vampire who is flaunting his god given right to feed on anyone and everything he wants and he doesn't care who suffers or who sees him do it."

  "And why do you care?"

  Regulus' eyes narrowed. "London is mine and I will not have that little bastard flaunting his insubordination in my face. He has been given too many free passes and it's time for my threats to be made his reality."

  "Who is he?"

  "He goes by the name of Vince. Slimy little thing, barely in double figures. Slicked back hair, tattoos. I don't care what you do to him, as long as by the end of it he is dead."

  The Ship sat down a lane crammed between a clothes shop and a stinking dark alleyway. The whole front of the place was taken up by two windows and a door and that was it. Regulus had said it was a little hole in the wall and he was right. If he hadn't been looking for it, he would have walked straight past. He stood there looking at the sign hanging over the door for god knows how long, people passing him on the dark street, bundled up against the early onset of winter. Scarves, coats, hats… the humans were bound
up so tightly, he barely caught their scent as they hurried past.

  Finally, Zac's eyes came down to the door of the pub and he grimaced. Time to get his hands dirty. He pushed open the heavy wooden door with a sigh and walked into the warmth.

  It was busy for a weekday night. Rock music blared from a cheap sound system and young alternative types stood around in groups drinking the cheapest beer they could get their hands on. Windows ran along the side opening out onto the alley and the bar ran opposite. In the back corner were some vintage pinball machines, but otherwise the place didn't have any furniture other than a couple of barstools and tables here and there.

  His assessment of the place was interrupted when a young man bumped into him, spilling the top inch of his beer down the sleeve of Zac's heavy black coat.

  "Oh, shit man, sorry," the man said, drunkenly wiping the beer away with his bare hand. When he realized Zac wasn't moving, he looked up and the smile fell from his face.

  He glared down at the human with unmasked annoyance, his eyes tinged with black around the edges. The man stumbled back a step, almost dropping his beer entirely. Letting a sneer tug at his lip, he hissed through his teeth and turned away, walking towards the bar, disregarding him.

  There were a few people waiting to be served, but he leant over the top of the bar anyway and someone standing next to him went to call him out, but got one look at him and thought better of it.

  "Hey," Zac called out to the bartender to catch his attention.

  "Yeah," the guy said, leaning against the bar. "What you want?"

  "I'm looking for a guy named Vince."

  The bartender pointed towards the rear of the pub where a pair of grey eyes were staring at him in horror. He was just as Regulus had described him. Slicked back hair, button up plaid shirt and arms full of tattoos. And Vince seemed like he was smart enough to know what Zac was and why he was here.

  Before he could take a step towards him, Vince was out of his seat and at the rear door, pushing through it with a deafening crack. He was after him a split second later, pushing people aside. He vaguely heard the bartender call out after him, but wasn't about to let the slimy little vampire give him the slip.

  As Zac ran after him, he held back, watching the younger vampire. He was out of the alley and into the main street in full view of everyone, but that didn't seem to stop him. Now Zac understood Regulus' annoyance with this one. He ran faster than he was meant to, pushed people aside with more strength than was possible, and still he ran.

  Zac wasn't as stupid as he was. While the humans were looking the other way, he jumped as high as he could manage, his fingers curling around the guttering of the adjoining building. A second later, he'd hauled himself up to the roof and followed where he couldn't be seen. Jumping from building to building, across streets and alley ways, all the time not loosing sight of his prey.

  Vince was all over the place. It was like he hadn't got a handle on being a vampire at all. He'd disappear around a corner only to run into a dumpster or bash his shoulder against a tree. He'd stumble and fall to his knees, looking over his shoulder with blind fear. What a fucking idiot.

  When he disappeared into a private garden in the middle of a square, Zac jumped down from the roof of the row of bordering houses, crossed the street and vaulted over the fence.

  Vince stood in the center, his back pressed against the decorative fountain, his eyes wide and full of panic. Zac stood hidden in the shadows and regarded him for a moment. The vampire was barely in double digits, the Roman had told him, but from what he had witnessed, he had to be new. He was days or a handful of weeks, not ten years. No one was that stupid.

  "I know you're there," Vince called out into the dark garden, his head turning at the slightest sound.

  Rolling his eyes, Zac sauntered out into the middle of the square, in full view of the younger vampire.

  Jumping back, Vince said, "Stay away."

  "You know I'm not going to do that, Vince," he said quietly, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

  "You haven't given me a chance. It's only been a few days. Just a couple more, that's all I need."

  Zac narrowed his eyes, but it wasn't his place to ask what he meant. He was just here to deliver a message.

  "You can't kill me," Vince pleaded, holding his hands up in front of him.

  "Of course I can."

  "Wait," his voice betrayed his blind fear. "We can come to an arrangement. Anything you want. Anything."

  Who was Zac to question Regulus? Unless he wanted to end up dead beside this slimy little weakling of a vampire, he had to. The thought must have translated to his face, because Vince's face fell and he went to run, but Zac was faster. He pushed him roughly to the ground, his knee hard in his stomach, keeping the younger vampire in place.

  "Don't make this harder than it needs to, Vince," he said, looking down at him. "It'll be over in a moment."

  "No," he cried, trying to squirm his way out from under Zac's knee.

  Sighing, he looked up, knowing that Regulus wasn't far away. He could feel the Roman's beady little eyes on him. Without a second thought, he plunged his hand into Vince's chest cavity and felt his fingers curl around his still beating heart. Before the vampire could let out a blood curdling scream, he wrenched it free with a sucking sound, spots of blood splattering onto the pavement.

  As Vince's eyes glazed over and his body began to desiccate, he looked down at the heart in his sticky red hand, then down at the gaping hole from where it came. Shrugging, he stuffed it back in, wiped his hand clean on Vince's ugly plaid shirt and picked up the body. Standing outside the garden on the sidewalk, he waited.

  A dark colored sedan screeched to a halt beside him and the trunk popped free. Kicking it open all the way, Zac dumped Vince's desiccated body inside next to the human woman he'd fed on earlier and slammed it shut. Climbing into the passenger seat, he glanced over at Regulus, who slammed his foot on the gas. As the car shot out onto the street, cutting off a taxi, all he could think about was how weird it felt driving on the opposite side of the road.

  Regulus looked at him with a sick sense of triumph and he wondered what the hell he'd ask him to do next. He'd said the next job was more involved.

  "Ready for the next job?" the Roman's voice cut through the silence.

  Resting his head on the seat back, Zac sighed, "What do you want me to do?"

  CHAPTER TEN

  The sun had risen by the time Regulus pulled the car up in front of an old two story house in the middle of a long street packed with almost identical structures. To Zac, they all looked the same and the only distinguishing features were the numbers on each door.

  The Roman looked over at him as the engine stilled and clicked as it began to cool down. "There," he said pointing to a house on the opposite side of the street. "Number seventy-eight."

  "And what's there?" Zac asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Who," Regulus said, narrowing his eyes at his tone. "A vampire by the name of Garett lives here. He believes no one knows where he resides, but I've had my eyes on him for a long time."

  "And he's pissed you off, too?"

  "The little shit has been double dealing," he said with a snort. "It's no secret that Arturius and I were less than friendly, so you can imagine how annoyed I was to find out that he'd been feeding information to the both of us. Different information, I might add."

  Zac looked up at the house, noting that all the curtains were closed tightly and the were bars across the glass. The place was like a fort. He wondered if a human lived there and what other security was on the place.

  "If even one of these worthless little worms gets away with it, then more will follow," Regulus continued. "I do not get played, Zachary. There are severe consequences for those that dare."

  "And I'm the one who needs to deliver them," he said.

  Regulus' lips pulled into a smirk and he thumped him on the back. "You catch on quick."

  When Regulus had said this job
was more involved, Zac should have realized that it meant gathering information. The Roman's idea of gathering information was a euphemism for torture.

  "Is there a human?" he asked.

  "No."

  "Anything else?"

  "Nothing. This one thinks he's untouchable," Regulus said with a note of annoyance.

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "Get the truth from the little shit any way you can. Then kill him."

  Zac opened the car door without another word, the cold morning air hitting him like a hammer.

  "Zachary," the Roman called out after him. "Once you're done, come find me."

  A white card flew out of the car, hitting him in the chest before falling to the ground. The car roared into life and shot forward. Before it went too far, he reached out and slammed the door closed. Once the dark sedan disappeared around the bend in the street, Zac looked down at the white card on the asphalt. Picking it up, he realized it was an address.

  He had his orders and his summons, so he shouldn't be surprised that he was dumped so unceremoniously on the side of the road. Regulus had brought him here to work for him, not with him and until he could prove himself, Zac wouldn't be trusted with anything other than the Roman's amusement. He had to do this and do it spectacularly.

  Waking towards the front door, he surveyed the facade for any nasty surprises, but Regulus had been right. This Garrett had an illusion of grandeur. He thought he was going to get away with it. All the windows were blacked out with what looked like heavy blackout curtains, but otherwise the was nothing remarkable about the outside.

  The front door had no handle, just a deadlock and a bell, so there was only one option available. Ramming into it with a shoulder, Zac caught the door before it could hit the wall as it splintered inwards with a sharp crack. Continuing inside when he didn't hear any movement, he walked into the dark house, his eyes taking in every surface and opening along the hall.

  The front room was a typical lounge. Heavy curtains were drawn over the windows blocking out any sunlight that might have lit the room. There were the typical furnishings he'd expected to find here. Sofa, old fashioned fireplace, television and a large black coffin. Zac snorted at the irony. The house was a fortress against the light and this guy was encasing himself for good measure. What a walking cliché.