Fratelli: Eternal Bloodlines (The Vampire Cartel #2)

45. The Death of the Mole

Chapter 45

The Death of the Mole

M ojave Camp Ground Zero – Nevada

April 19, 2018

(2 Days Before Death)

Greenlee’s body jerked in violence. Her limbs moved as if yanked by invisible strings. The tent’s flaps flew open. The howling wind came from the inside, unnatural, it whipped her hair forward and blew sand into the eyes of those shocked, who stopped and watched. Her legs were stiff, her arms dangled in awkward angles, and her bones crackled with each step she was forced to walk. Behind her, Dolly and Darlene glanced at each other, proud of their creation. They took each other hand and moved in eerie unison, side by side, their eyes glowered with the power they’d never tapped into. Dolly controlled Greenlee’s every motion like one would do with a grotesque marionette.

Each step for Greenlee was agony. Her bones snapped, then realigned, making her torture repeat in unstoppable waves. She wasn’t even allowed to scream. The supernatural force choked her voice and rendered her a prisoner in her own body.

Inside the camp, chaos erupted. Dawn threatened the sky. It washed out the moon, and panic spread like wildfire. The explosions came next. Darlene let go of her sister’s hand and blew up the military tents that held weapons and artifacts these people should have never possessed. Those fortunate enough to escape the blasts did—those who did not suffered the consequences.

Once a formidable cult of the First People, their grand vision had crumbled to ashes all around them. As the fires burned, the warriors readied to save their leader under Macy Lynn’s command and charged forward.

Charmaine had escaped the bunker in time. It now burned from the supernatural blasts. She got up on her feet, having been knocked to the ground. She approached. Her feet slowed as she took in the twins. They were changed, but somehow the same. A sense of dread crawled up her spine. What had the Professor and Greenlee unleashed in them?

Greenlee was punished for her crimes, but Charmaine knew this punishment did not absolve her of them. Just a few weeks ago, Dolly was a sweet, misguided girl who cared for her handicapped brother and toiled within her job to help people. Charmaine glanced around at the terrified women who were innocents running and screaming. Some of them were on fire. Some of them were traumatized. This is not the way of the Chosen. Dolly would never in the past hurt anyone, even if they hurt her. She’d seen the abuse she took from Tyrone and how she suffered in silence. They are protectors, not destructors. And she knew in her heart this was only the beginning. The scarab in her hand, now no larger than a crown jewel, throbbed with faint energy over the melee. She gripped it, uncertain.

“Sonya, come, the twins… something is going wrong,” said Charmaine.

“I hear you, we’re coming…” Sonya said.

Suddenly, the warrior women of the cult surged forward, relics from ancient times gripped in their trembling hands. Their weapons glowed faintly with old magic. To Charmaine, they seemed powerless now. These women were under the command of Macy Lynn, who charged with them. They had believed in their cause and believed they could protect their leader, but faith faltered in the face of this nightmare. When they saw Greenlee—controlled and hollow—they hesitated. Dread stole their courage. Some broke away and fled. Macy Lynn shouted for everyone to hold their position. But it was futile.

“Listen to me!” Greenlee’s voice boomed out of her louder than a speaker system. It crackled with desperation, though her words were not her own. “Hear me!”

The camp stilled. All eyes were on her.

“The Professor is dead,” Greenlee rasped. “Dead! This is the truth. We lied to you—lied! I am the Queen of Lies!” She screamed so loud a few people covered their ears. Her body spasmed as Dolly forced her to continue. “We used you... for power. There is no great coming of the old realm. We will never be Gods, Queen, or rulers of this world. It’s gone. Leave it all! Or die!”

The words fell like a death knell. The cultists looked at one another, their illusions shattered. Macy Lynn took a step back. The horror and confusion was palpable on her face.

Dolly stepped forward, her golden presence luminous and otherworldly. “You have stolen, killed, and manipulated in the name of a false purpose. The First People were not gods—they were your ancestors. You’ve dishonored them. Just like Julia Brown when she took her dark oath over the universe’s love.”

Darlene, a living shadow made of darkness, stepped beside her sister and lifted her hand. The darkness around Darlene spread to Greenlee. It thickened and slithered across the ground like a living thing. Greenlee was lifted off her feet, her body contorting with each sickening crunch of bone. The warriors screamed, so many went to their knees and pleaded for salvation for their leader. Charmaine looked on in horror. As a guardian and the protector of light, she itched to save Greenlee, but the sisters were in control. The crowd wept as the matriarch’s form became twisted, crushed into a ball of energy, then ripped apart with a final, agonized wail.

A stunned silence followed. Dolly and Darlene left the cult members paralyzed and powerless. The First People’s cult was no more—its remnants broken, scattered. And now they were all doomed to flee or face more wrath.

Sonya, Tristan, and Shakespeare tore through the desert in Tristan’s Bugatti. The engine roared as they sped toward the fortified camp. Dust billowed behind them, caught in the rays of the rising sun.

“Slow down!” Sonya warned. She gripped the seat as the fortress loomed ahead.

“We have to get inside!” Tristan yelled; eyes fixed on the distant walls. His heart locked in with Charmaine. Her distress was now his. He could feel her emotional torment. He’d kill all of them and anyone who dared to harm her.

“The sun’s coming up, damn it! Slow down!” Sonya shouted again. Less than a mile away from the doors to the fort, Tristan yanked the wheel hard. The car spun into a wild U-turn, kicking up a massive cloud of dust that swallowed the vehicle whole. Sonya lurched forward in her seat. Before she could speak, Shakespeare glanced back, his eyes full of concern. She waved him off and caught her breath.

“Shit!” Tristan cursed and slammed the wheel with his fist. “We’re too late. We can’t get in now!”

“Quiet,” Shakespeare murmured. He stared ahead.

Tristan glanced at him and frowned. “What?”

Sonya closed her eyes. She focused her energy. The surrounding air hummed with untapped power. When she opened them, there was a new clarity in her gaze. “The twins,” she whispered. “They’re separate now. Charmaine said they were changed. We are too late. We need to be ready. They’re coming. They know you are here, and they want you to take them to Rome.”

“The Vatican?” Tristan asked, confused.

“Lucio,” Sonya replied, her voice steady. “They know where he is. They know what’s happening to him. They want him. They have claimed him as theirs.”

“Want him? Want him?” Tristan repeated.

Before Tristan could react further, the gates to the fortress creaked open, pushed by the women of the cult. The two vampires and the guardian of the darkness watched as a tanker truck rolled out slowly. It was flanked by nearly a hundred dazed women dressed in fatigues. They walked at the sides of the tanker truck as if escorting their leader.

“This is their army?” Shakespeare muttered.

“I need to join Darlene. She’s calling for me,” Sonya said, wincing from the pain in her head over the guardians’ command. She pulled off the cloak around her shoulders. The one Phoenix had draped over her. She tossed it up front to Shakespeare. “Cover yourself. I’m not sure my blood will protect you from the sun. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

“No. Don’t go. This doesn’t feel right. This is… wrong? We’ll get you out of here,” Shakespeare urged his voice tight. He glanced at Tristan, who was fixated on the tanker. Shakespeare knew Tristan would not leave Charmaine behind. Neither of them could break their bonds.

Sonya shook her head. “I have to. Dolly trusts you, Tristan, to take us to Lucio. Let’s not upset the sisters. We don’t know what happened to them in that camp. I’ll follow you with Darlene and protect her. Charmaine will protect Dolly. We must figure this out with them, not against them. Understand? Now let me out! She has commanded it!”

“For now, we will let her command you,” Shakespeare mumbled. His hand clenched around the cloak as he opened the door and slipped into the sunlight. He flinched but withstood the heat, his eyes locked with Sonya’s, his entire body smoking, even though covered. “I love you.”

Sonya’s breath hitched, but she smiled. “I know. I’m with you.”

“Do you love me?” he pleaded.

“I can’t name it. Not now. If this is love let me prove it, not say it,” Sonya touched his cheek. Shakespeare’s eyes drifted shut and he sighed.

“My goddess,” he breathed.

“Goodbye,” she said.

Charmaine exited the tanker, and her eyes lit up at the sight of Tristan behind the wheel. They shared a brief smile before Sonya ran to embrace her friend, her sister, their tears mixed with the dust of the desert as they held each other tight. The cult women were on their knees with their heads bowed. The other women came to the front gates with their small children and stood transfixed.

Shakespeare retreated into the car. The guardians stopped embracing, and both looked to the consiglieri. They gave a last smile and turned away. Tristan gripped the steering wheel and a low growl to resist the temptation to risk the sun to go after their mates escaped both men. The guardians entered the tanker, and their psychic connection was severed.

The consiglieri sat in silence; sworn enemies now bound by a common cause.

“How did we get here?” Tristan muttered. “I should’ve been with Lucio, protecting him.”

“I can’t reach Domenico,” Shakespeare agreed, his tone grim. “It’s like our connection is severed to our masters. All I can think about… is her.”

“This is the curse, don’t you see?” Tristan said bitterly. “Lucio enslaved us. Just like the power of the guardians ensnared us.”

Shakespeare’s gaze cut sideways. “Do you feel like a slave?”

Tristan stared at the tanker. He sighed and put the car in reverse, then drove away with the tanker following. “We took an oath. Phoenix taught us?—”

“Fuck Phoenix,” Shakespeare snapped. “And fuck the coven. We were men once. You, with God. Me with Camille. And we lost it all. What do you feel now? Like a slave? Or free?”

Tristan glanced up to the rearview mirror at the tanker trailed him. It wasn’t lost on him that if the tanker wanted, it could crush them under its monster wheels. “Do you think those guardians will care what we feel when this is over?”

“Do you?” Shakespeare pressed.

Tristan sighed deeply. “No. I don’t give a fuck. Whatever this is, we need to get to Lucio and Domencio. Something is wrong. And we can’t save them or ourselves unless we join the fight.”

A dark chuckle escaped Shakespeare, but it quickly faded. “Lucio’s fucked. And if he’s fucked, we’re all fucked. What do you think he’ll do when he’s fully turned? Will he be worse than Vittorio with the Draquria inside of him?”

Tristan’s knuckles whitened on the wheel. “Lucio had a plan. All I can say is this wasn’t part of it.”

Shakespeare’s eyes narrowed. “What were you and Lucio working on in Reno? Tell me.”

Tristan’s jaw tightened. “Let’s hope we can prevent him from destroying us all.”

Inside the tanker, Sonya stared at the Dolly’s—two distinct beings, yet still connected. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

“We’re not two Dolly’s,” Darlene corrected with a smirk. Her dark essence radiated such beauty and calming energy Sonya felt humbled by her even speaking to her.

Sonya bowed her head. “Forgive me.”

Dolly’s face was somber, her eyes shimmered with repressed tears. “Lucio is undead.”

“He’s a vampire,” Charmaine reminded her.

“No,” Dolly corrected. “He’s a vessel now. Marcello’s taken him to the Vatican, but they can’t cure him. He’s in the darkness, Darlene. Like where we found Domencio and his dragon, but worse. He can’t escape it.”

“Why can’t I see him?” Darlene whispered, troubled.

“I don’t know.” Dolly’s tears finally spilled. “But I can. I see him... nothing they do is working.”

Darlene wrapped an arm around her sister.

“Maybe he’s reaching out to you because of the darkness. You are his light. He needs light,” Charmaine suggested gentleness.

“What’s the plan?” Sonya asked, her voice unsteady.

Darlene looked up. “We’re going to Rome.”

“You won’t get near him,” Sonya warned. “Those brothers won’t allow it.”

“They don’t have to,” Darlene replied. “Dolly and I can heal Lucio. We’ve done it to ourselves before. Remember, sister. How we escaped the darkness. Remember when Lucio came to us? We are connected. He is ours. And once we have him back we’ll help him kill his father—and the Draquria.”

Charmaine and Sonya exchanged a glance. They both knew the twins were overconfident. Julia Brown’s curse reached further than anyone understood, and with Greenlee and the Professor dead, they had lost the knowledge of the Hoodoo equation to the madness. But one thing was clear: they were out of time.

“We’ll defend you,” Sonya promised. “With our lives.”

Macy Lynn wept as her family gathered what remained of Greenlee. Around her, the cult was disbanding, packing their things, and leaving the wreckage of their beliefs behind. She had nothing left to offer the women—no words of comfort, no plan to save what had been lost.

Come to me.

The voice was a whisper at first, but she recognized it instantly.

“Commander, what do we do now?” Lisa, one of the younger women, clutched Macy’s arm, her tear-streaked face filled with confusion. “Is it really over?”

Macy Lynn hugged her. “Yes. It’s over. Go. Leave and don’t look back.”

“But... what about the prophecy? What about?—”

“GO!” Macy shouted. The force of the command shocked the young woman. The indoctrination had been strong, but it was broken now.

Come to me, the voice echoed again, louder this time.

Macy Lynn’s heart pounded. She pulled away from Lisa and ran to her jeep; her legs moved on their own. She had no choice—she hadn’t had a choice for the last ten years.

She drove through the desert, not toward the Chosen, but to him. To the place where she’d been bound to Phoenix, where he had fed on her, used her, made her believe it was love. Her hands shook as she approached the cave, seeing his car parked outside. She stopped, staring at the entrance, her mind screamed for her to turn back and run.

Come inside!

She stepped out of the jeep and walked straight into the mouth of darkness.

Phoenix materialized from the shadows, and his emerald eyes gleamed. “Where were you?” Macy Lynn’s voice trembled as she confronted him. “None of it happened the way you said. You promised us we’d be gods! Now it’s all gone—Greenlee, the Professor, my tribe. The twins destroyed everything.”

Phoenix stepped closer; his smile cold. “Nothing has changed. The plan is still in motion. Tell me—are the twins going to Rome? Did they say Lucio was dead?”

Macy nodded, unable to resist his voice, his eyes, his touch.

“Good,” Phoenix whispered, his fangs glinted as he drew closer. “The last piece is in place.”

“They’ll stop you,” Macy warned, tears spilled over. “They’re stronger now.”

Phoenix laughed, the sound chilling her to the bone. “They were strong as one. Even I can’t deny that. Now, they’re divided—light and dark. They’re weaker, Macy. When Vittorio dies, Lucio will fall, and the Draca will rule. Darlene will turn to the Darkness because she has no light to balance her. She will choose the Draca just as Lucio now has. She is my weapon.”

Macy’s breath caught in her throat. Phoenix cupped her face. His stiff lips brushed her brow before he sank his fangs into her neck. She barely had time to scream before the darkness swallowed her whole.