"I won't let you use me," he whispered into her hair. "I am not your puppet."
She smiled up at him, kissing his cheek. "Oh, but you are and forever will be."
Her hands reached up and grasped his face as her expression contorted into malice. She was too quick for him. She had broken his neck before he could pull away, and he was dead before he hit the ground.
It was around midnight when he finally woke, sitting upright, gasping for breath. Looking around wildly, he realized he was alone. The house was empty.
"Victoria!" he roared, but knew he would receive no answer.
Standing, he paced back and forth, rubbing his neck. Where could she be? He knew nothing of her dealings, other than what he had overheard. Stopping abruptly, he realized that Victoria would teach him a lesson for his defiance. The only thing she knew he cared about was his family.
Ashburton was thirty miles to the northwest. His family’s manor and plantation about twenty-four miles. If he ran as fast as he could, he would be there in less than an hour. Bursting from the house, the street outside was empty. He was across town in five minutes, moving so fast, the humans he passed thought they had been buffeted by a gust of wind on an otherwise still and humid night.
Pushing himself harder and harder, not caring who saw him, he ran and ran, hoping he would make it in time. Victoria would kill everyone he had ever loved to teach him obedience. Perhaps she already had, waiting for him to show up to rub it in his face. Or maybe she would do it in front of him, to wrench the last piece of humanity out of an otherwise empty body.
As he turned up the long road that led up to the main house he smelt the blood. Unable to control himself, his eyes misted into black pools of nothingness, but he didn't stop. He couldn't.
Skidding to a halt at the top of the driveway, he heard the screams. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he listened for his parents and his brother. He couldn't lose control now, not when their lives were at stake. Then he heard her musical laughter on the air, drifting from around the side of the house.
He ran towards the sound, coming to a complete stop at the doors to his fathers study, an invisible barrier stopping him from entering. The floors and walls were splattered with blood and he couldn't get in. Willing it to be a bad dream, he saw his mother and father on the floor, the life having ebbed away from them. The sickly scent of their blood hung thickly in the air, threatening to take his sanity, but his grief was enough to hold him.
"No," he whispered, unable to move.
"Zac?" came the familiar voice from across the room.
"Samuel?" he cried, his head snapping up from the gruesome sight before him, seeking out his little brother.
He stumbled from the shadows, his eyes flickering to the bodies of their parents and up to those of his older brother, whose eyes were eerily black. It was then he realized Victoria was behind him, staring over his shoulder into Zac's eyes, the bloodlust etched in her once pretty features. They'd invited her in.
Zac saw the blood in Sam's mouth, dripping from his lips. Victoria had fed him her blood, she intended to turn him.
"No," he pleaded. "Not him, please not him."
She stood behind his brother, grinning maliciously. "This is what happens when I'm defied, Zachary."
Sam gasped as she snapped his spine, his legs crumbling beneath his weight, useless. Then she bent down and snapped his neck before he had a chance to cry out.
"No!" he roared, lunging for Victoria, his eyes black with rage, all the human occupants of the house now dead. She had taken everything from him. His parents, his brother, his home. She even took his death. He should have died in that pile of corpses and remained that way.
His hands grasped empty air as she disappeared, laughter coming from behind him. Snarling deep in his throat, he swung around to find her on the verandah, just outside the open French doors.
"Come and kill me, Zachary, or help your little brother change," she sneered at him. "It's the only choice I will ever give you."
His eyes shifted down to Sam's limp body. In this moment he hated Victoria more than he ever thought possible. She had forced him to make a hopeless decision. He would either have to kill his brother or turn him.
Unable to control himself, he rushed Victoria, wanting to tear her to pieces. If this was the one thing he was good at, then she would bare witness to it first hand.
She ran, luring him into the surrounding forest, but all the training he had in the army came as second nature out here. He cornered her in a small gully, where the old cave used to be. They were surrounded by rock, Victoria's back against a fallen boulder. Her eyes widened slightly as if she comprehended the monster she had created. His rage was all consuming, all reason lost. Lunging for her, his hands grasped her neck, squeezing.
"How could you?" he heard himself saying. "Murderer. Murderer!"
"You're a killer Zachary," Victoria gasped, her fingernails raking at his hands. "And you're mine. I made you. I made you!"
"I'm not yours!" he spat at her, letting his rage overwhelm him. Feeling his fingers sink into her flesh, he tore her neck open, his fangs sinking into the open wound, tearing out anything they clasped hold of. With a roar, he tore her head clean off, casting it aside as her limp body fell to the ground, blood pooling in the dirt.
He watched numbly as her body turned grey and withered, his chest heaving, covered in her blood. Victoria was right; he was good at killing. It was easy. A piercing scream brought him back from the edge of his frenzy. Samuel!
Turning back to the manor he ran, needing to get to his brother before he did something he'd regret. He needed to explain to Sam, let him know his options. Give him the choice he never had.
Running up the long driveway he saw his brother in front of the house, clutching a young woman to his chest, his head buried in her neck. Zac couldn't smell her blood, he hadn't fed yet. He pushed himself to run faster than his vampire feet had ever taken him.
"Sam!" he yelled, but was too late. He watched helpless as his brother sunk his newly grown fangs into the woman's neck. Stopping dead in his tracks, he could only watch his little brother, twenty years old, toss the woman aside as if she were nothing.
Sam looked confused as he stumbled down the driveway, blood dripping down his chin, the ground littered with the corpses of the massacred slaves and servants. Zac could only fall to his knees, silent tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Zac..." Sam was gasping, clutching his chest. The change was on him.
Roaring in pain, he collapsed, writhing on the ground, subdued by Zac's hands on his shoulders. When he finally slipped into unconsciousness, he let his grasp slacken. It was his fault. All of it was his fault. If he hadn't of defied Victoria then she wouldn't have come here. His parents would be alive and Sam would be human.
Zac could only do the one thing that was left in his power. Picking up his brothers limp body, he carried him down the driveway and away from their home for good.
CHAPTER FOUR
Zac had become a permanent fixture at Max's. He no longer cared about the scandalous gossip he was perpetuating as Ashburton's latest alcoholic train wreck. He just wanted everything to go the hell away and the more alcohol he could consume, the better. For the first time since setting foot in this stinking town, he'd had to compel the bar staff. Otherwise they'd cut him off. He was turning into the worst kind of drunk.
The only kind of control Zac wanted was the numb inebriated kind.
He sensed her concern from across the room before he heard her approach. Gabby sat at the bar beside him, worry set in her features as he rolled his eyes.
"You're better," he said, still staring straight ahead, fingers grasped tightly around his glass.
"Much," she replied, eyeing the drink in front of him. "Zac, I'm..."
"I know," he interrupted.
She was frowning at him. People frowned a lot in his direction lately. Why were they saying sorry to him? He hadn't had his heart torn out, but he may as well ha
ve. They'd all heard, all saw. She'd told him she loved him. They were sorry for him now that she was gone. She made him a better person, now he didn't know where that left him. He snorted, closing his dry eyes.
"What are you doing?" Gabby asked, as if she didn't already know.
"I'm just sitting here thinking about all the choices that I made to get to this point. The pathetic, lonely, homicidal maniac." Because it was true.
"You're not alone, Zac. You have Sam and Liz. Alex. And you have me," she said, firmly.
"Pfft. Sam doesn't want to help me, he wants to change me."
"Zac. You need to pull yourself out of this. Do you think it's what she would have wanted?" she sighed, shaking her head.
Zac turned and glared at her. "Depressed or predator. Take your pick, Tabitha. Which is the lesser of two evils? Which has the lowest body count?"
"Don't..." she whispered, edging away from him.
"I kill people, Gabby. It's what I do. It's who I am," he scoffed. "I'm a vampire and I eat people. Shock. Horror."
"This isn't you," she shook her head. "You're better than that."
"Am I? Am I really? What makes you think you even know me? I was a soldier, a trained killer. Its what I was good at. I enlisted in both world wars and Vietnam because I wanted to kill. Oh, he's fallen off the wagon, everyone said. But I was just honoring my true nature, Gabby. A predator who needs to kill to survive," he spat at her, venom dripping from his words. "Everyone wants me to be the good guy. I've never been the good guy. I can't do it. I wasn't good enough for Liz and wasn't good enough to save Aya. That's what being good gets you. Nothing."
He looked over his shoulder towards the entrance, groaning as he sensed who was coming; at who he guessed was coming. Gabby looked towards the door as it banged open, letting in the late afternoon light, and something else. Arturius.
Zac glanced to Gabby who nodded reluctantly. She'd seen him that night in the clearing, his arm bloodied up to the elbow, Aya's heart clutched in his hand.
She grabbed Zac's arm as he went to stand, a low growl coming from deep in his throat. "Stop, Zac. Getting yourself killed is not the answer."
"If I die in the attempt of tearing that piece of shit apart, then so be it. It would be a benefit to the human race."
Arturius leant against the bar a few stools down and ordered a drink, glancing in Zac's direction. It was all the invitation he needed. He walked up to the Roman and slammed his fist into the bar, glaring at the vampire who ruined everything. For a moment, he acted as if Zac wasn't there, making him seethe even more. Finally turning, he looked him up and down and obviously found him wanting.
"Ahh," he grinned as the bartender placed his order in front of him. "You're the comatose one."
"What are you doing here?" he snarled at the Roman.
"Having a sunny southern holiday," he grinned. "Tying up a few loose ends."
"Well, didn't you just put a big fucking bow on it already," Zac said through his teeth. "What are you still doing here?"
Arturius seemed to find this extremely amusing. "What makes you think it's my prerogative to tell you anything?"
Zac was a hairs breadth away from loosing it. "I'm having a existential crisis, Artie. You see, you killed the woman I love. And that makes me mad. And what do you think happens when I get mad?"
Arturius laughed, "Are you trying to threaten me, Zachary? You have no hope in besting me."
"You don't think I know?" he glared at him, not breaking eye contact. "I know a lot of things. Perhaps you ought to be the one who's worried."
"I know you have no idea how to kill me. And I also know Aericura gave you her blood, so if you haven't already seen what became of her kind, then you would know that there is no hope for you. The fact that you're alive right now is only because I choose not to end you." He stood with a sigh, throwing some money onto the bar. "Don't push too hard Zachary, or you might lose your head."
Zac lunged for the founder, but before he could raise his fist, he slammed into an invisible wall. Surprised, he tried again, but met the same resistance. Arturius seemed to be as confused as he was.
"Not in the bar," Gabby came up behind them. "If you're going to fight, take it into the forest where no one can see. I won't have innocent people put into danger by the likes of you two."
Arturius sneered at her, his eyes gliding up and down her body. "I'm always in need of a witch. Especially a witch who was in league with Aericura." He gave her a knowing look. He knew exactly who Aya was before and exactly what she had been capable of. Zac knew he had been in the cemetery as he lay unconscious. Sam had told him how Arturius had stood over Aya's lifeless body like it was some kind of trophy. And he'd seen Gabby there. Would he now come after her too?
He didn't know what Arturius was looking for, he never understood everything that had happened that night, but he seemed to think Gabby could tell him something.
The Roman sneered at her and gave a final warning glance to Zac before turning and leaving the bar, obviously regrouping now that Gabby had come forward to protect the town. She didn't seem to be worried about the vampires fighting.
Zac turned and gave her a look. The fleeting note of panic that flickered in her eyes didn’t escape his notice. He knew something was up. Fact was, he always knew, regardless if anyone told him or not. He didn't know if it was the encounter with Arturius or the amount of alcohol he had consumed, but for the first time ever, he let it drop, not saying anything. Maybe he was just mad she had stopped him from hitting the Roman. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
"Go away, Gabby," he said, sitting back down.
And she was gone before he could change his mind.
Gabby had called a 911 on her oldest friends, something they hadn't done in ages. When they were in high school they did it all the time. Alex always complained, but had gone along with it nonetheless. Usually, their 911 sit ins had been about boy problems or getting back at the school bully. In the girls' case, the captain of the cheerleading team, Stacy Howard. In Alex's case, golden boy class president and football player Kane Watson. They would scheme epic payback when it was most deserved. Like the time Kane had filled Alex's locker with whipped cream and they had put itching powder in his football uniform, applying it thoroughly to the crutch of his pants. That had earned them all a month of detention.
It had been almost two weeks since she had gone to Memphis with the brothers to free Aya who had been captured by the founding vampire, Caius. And it had been a week since she'd found out who Aya really was.
She was a Celestine. The beginning of magic. The race that founded the first witches and the caretakers of the earth. Creatures with power beyond reckoning. This was what Aya was. She'd dedicated herself to protecting the origins of power. Their secrets in the wrong hands… the world could be plunged into darkness.
The weight of all these secrets was suffocating.
She didn't know what exactly Aya had become when Arturius had turned her, but with her help that night in the void, she had become something close to what she once was. Her kind had granted the first witches their power and had promptly become extinct at the hands of a woman of their own creation; Katrin. It was a tale that was as sad as it was twisted. And Gabby had to keep this secret or face the possibility of doing greater harm.
In her desire to help her new friend, she had to awaken powers inside herself she never dreamed she could possess. It was a dream she wanted to take back. All she wanted was to understand and control her power, but she got the complete opposite. Gabby wanted a full refund. The power she had coiled inside, it seemed endless and that terrified her.
When she stood in that yard in Memphis, it had been so easy. She had obliterated the three witches with nothing but an absent flick of the wrist. They had disintegrated, their ash flying away on the breeze like sand in a sandstorm. If she hadn't of done anything, they would have all died. Sam, Zac, Aya; they would have all died. Aya had told her after, that she would have killed them, that they had given
themselves over to evil. But it didn't make it feel any better.
That seemed like nothing now that Aya was gone. She could have helped her to understand. Magic was truly dead without her.
She now sat with Liz and Alex in the middle of the lounge room floor of her apartment, a pizza to one side, wine to the other and the grimoire in her lap. As she told them about what had happened in the bar earlier, Liz's expression turned into sorrow and Alex's into thought. Arturius had shown interest in her and she told them she was worried that he'd come for her.
"He's really…" She couldn't think of the right word.
"Scary?" Liz offered.
"Psychotic?" Alex countered, even though he hadn't been there that night. Psychotic had nothing on it.
"Why would he want you?" Liz asked. "I mean, he must have others to do his dirty work."
"He said he was always in need of a witch. I guess the more he has, the less people would oppose him," she sighed, taking a large gulp of wine, not elaborating further. She felt bad keeping Aya's secret from her oldest friends; friends who had helped her though one of the toughest times in her life, finding her Grams, but she was bound. What she didn't tell anyone was that ever since she'd linked to Aya in the void, she'd hardly been able to control herself. There was a growing darkness inside of her that wanted to get out. Whatever had happened to trigger the growth, she didn't know how to stop it. So, she stopped practicing altogether. Perhaps that's what Arturius had sensed in her.
"But you'd never do that," Alex exclaimed. "He's mad."
"Yeah, raving mad," Gabby scoffed. "I'd never help him willingly."
"We have to do something," Alex declared. "He killed Aya. And god knows what he might do to you."
"That's what I was trying to figure out before you guys came over," she said, opening the grimoire absently.
Liz sat up straighter, her eyes lighting up with hope. "Do you have any ideas?"