Chapter Ten – Lucian
CHAPTER TEN
LUCIAN
Cain drops his large bag on the ground by his feet, his red eyes taking in every one of my brothers as I go to him.
“I’d smile while I greet you,” I say, “but your presence can only mean that hell is upon us. Or it’s soon to be.”
His lips curve into a knowing smile, the red in his eyes sparking. “You make it sound like I’m the one bringing trouble.”
I return his smile and shake my head. “I would never imply that. I merely want to know what dragged your ass into our club.”
“I’ve not been here five minutes. How about a drink first?” He inhales deeply. “I could smell what you’re offering from the moment my foot crossed the threshold. I must say, the scent has me salivating.” He licks his lips, scenting the air.
My fists clench, and I snarl. “That scent is not available.”
He arches a scarred brow. “Interesting.”
“Enough of this bullshit. Tell us why you’re here and what we need to prepare for,” Hex snaps.
I don’t berate him for cutting in. He’s right.
Cain lifts his hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll start by saying they know you went looking for answers. They followed your trail, leaving destruction in their wake.”
“The vampires we spoke to?” I ask, brows furrowed.
“Gone.” He pauses, rubbing his dark, stubbled chin. “You’ve heard of Anathema?” He looks between my brothers and me. We all nod. We’ve been told the stories about the myths and legends surrounding our creation.
“I haven’t,” Clutch says.
“Me, neither,” Diesel adds.
Cain nods. “Newbies. You wouldn’t have heard them. They stopped telling those stories probably two hundred years ago.”
He pulls a small ornate metal flask from his jacket and takes a sip. Blood stains his bottom lip. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Long before we ruled the night, before religion had names, even before death,” he says, staring at Diesel and Clutch, “there was a mistake.”
Clutch frowns. “What do you mean, a mistake?”
Cain pulls out a chair and takes a seat. “The first of our kind—the immortals—were not meant to exist. We were a fracture in the natural order, beings that refused the cycle of life and decay.”
“If we weren’t meant to exist, then why didn’t the world—or whatever’s in charge—just erase us and start again?” Diesel asks with a shrug.
Cain grins. “If only it were that fucking simple. I mean, they did respond. Creation answered, but not by simply erasing us, not with an all-powerful god, but with Anathema.”
I walk back over to where I’d discarded the cigarettes, suddenly needing another one. I light it, close my eyes, and inhale deeply.
“I don’t get it. They were formed, so why the fuck are we still here?” Clutch asks.
“Because we are monsters of the dark,” I say, “and where there is darkness, we will always find a way to survive. Why do you think we keep our kind hidden?”
Clutch shrugs. “Because of hunters. Humans. Other covens that want power.”
Cain shakes his head. “We can easily destroy humans and others like us. We hide—we use the dark—to stay out of sight from the one thing that can end our entire kind.” He shakes his head again.
“They were formed from rejection, stripped of identity, flesh, and time. They were not born. They were unmade and reshaped.”
“Jesus, you talk like you know them personally,” Clutch mutters with a shudder.
Cain doesn’t answer. No one knows his exact age. Rumour is he was one of the first of our kind. He himself is a lot like Anathema; myths and legends cling to his name.
“Okay, so how do we destroy these things? I mean, everything has a way of dying,” Diesel says.
“They exist in a state outside of death. They’re bound by laws older than mortality.
Killing them is deemed impossible because there’s nothing left to kill,” Cain points out.
“Destroy their form, they turn to ash and just reform elsewhere. They always fucking return,” he says through gritted teeth.
“They come back stronger each fucking time.”
“So, what are we supposed to do?” Diesel asks, concern in his voice.
“That is the million-dollar question,” I add.
“You run,” Cain says. “You keep moving. Don’t stay in one place for more than a month.”
“We ain’t running,” I retort.
“Then you’ve signed your own death,” Cain bites back.
“We’ve been here for hundreds of years. We keep our heads down, and we’ve not had any trouble. Where has this Anathema been if they can hunt all of us down?” I demand.
Cain shakes his head, his jaw tight. “That, I don’t fucking know.”
“How many of them do you reckon there are?” Hex asks, leaning forward as he flips through his journal, pen poised.
Cain shrugs. “No one knows. Only a few have been left alive to tell the tale, and I swear they only allow those to survive to spread the fear. To let it seep into every coven, every den. Makes the hunt more exciting for them.” His gaze drops to the table, lost in some old memory.
“Fuck,” Shade sighs. The vampire of few words says exactly what we’re all thinking.
“Where we were given hunger and flesh,” Cain continues, his voice distant, “Anathema was given will. Tasked with one purpose: erase the error.” It sounds like he’s reciting from an ancient text, still half-lost in the past.
I look to Viktor. “Search all the tomes, every story, every myth ever written about them. I want to know it all. There has to be something in one of those old stories that can help us.”
Viktor nods and gets to his feet. Hex stands, too.
“I’ll help,” Hex offers.
I nod. “Everyone else, keep low. Feed undetected. Shade and Talon, scope the area. Keep low, keep hidden,” I order. “The rest of you, go about your usual shit.” I flick my hand in dismissal, ending court.
“I guess Prez was right about the female mortal being unimportant,” I hear Echo mutter to Rook as they leave.
Cain’s gaze snaps to mine, one brow arched.
I sigh and shake my head. “Don’t you start. Come on. After that, I need a drink,” I say, clapping a hand on his shoulder as I pass.
“So, she’s mortal?” Cain asks, taking a swig of his drink. He lounges in the leather armchair, one leg draped casually over the other, the roar of the fire highlighting his sharp, deadly features.
I look away, staring into the flames as I sip my own drink, the warm burn of alcohol-laced blood loosening my muscles. “She is something I am not willing to discuss.”
“Shit,” Cain exhales. “What about the laws?”
I clench my jaw, my grip tightening around the glass until it cracks. “No law has been broken, and it will stay that way.”
Cain stands, walks to the bar, and reaches over it to grab the bottle. I down the rest of my drink before the glass can shatter completely. He hands me the bottle.
“It’s going to take a lot more than one drink to ease your troubles, brother,” he says.
I throw the cracked glass into the fire, where it shatters into tiny pieces. I take the bottle from him, yank the cork out, and glug back half of it.
“Fuck,” I breathe, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I offer the bottle to Cain, and he takes it, drinking deep.
“She is nothing but a toy. A plaything. My pet,” I say.
Cain smirks. “So, she’s your familiar.”
The thought of her being my servant—cleaning up after me, tending to my every need—isn’t unappealing. But the ways I want her to serve me are not what familiars are for.
Cain lets out a roar of laughter. “I know that look all too well. That look, my brother, is not how we think of our familiars. Tell me, when was the last time you had company?”
It’s my turn to arch a brow. “Human or vampire?”
He shrugs. “Either. As long as you were satisfied, it doesn’t matter.”
“Human was a couple of months ago. Vampire was…” I pause. “Seraphine.” I say her name instead of the time span.
Cain winces and shakes his head. “Why would you play that dangerous game, my brother?”
Seraphine and I have courted on and off for the past hundred years. She believes we’re mates, that I am her beloved. For her, that might be true. I love her, care for her, but just not in the way she wants me to.
“I know, but her beauty…” I run a hand through my hair. “And she can satisfy me in a way no human can.”
Cain shakes his head. “There are other females out there.”
“Where?” I demand, gesturing around us. “We reside in a small town. The only women here are locals. And before you say it, Lilith is a no-go, and you know that. Even if we go into the next town or city, we’ve yet to come across another of our kind. It’s not like there are advertisements.”
“That may be why Anathema hasn’t found you yet, because you’re all vampire-pussy deprived,” he jokes.
I grin. “Fuck you.”
Cain hands me the bottle. “They’ve never found you,” I state.
The smile vanishes from his face. “I never said they hadn’t.”
My gaze fixes on the brutal scar above his eye. “That’s how you got that?” I ask.
There aren’t many things that can leave a mark on us. We heal almost anything. I’ve seen severed limbs regrow, so it’s rare for a vampire to carry scars, especially from what looks like a simple flesh wound.
He gives me a tight nod, then shifts in his seat. “So, when am I going to meet this mortal who has you tied up in knots?” he asks, swiftly changing the subject.
I take one last swig and stand, placing the bottle on the table beside him. “You’re not. She doesn’t know about our kind, and if she meets you, I think you’ll give the fucking game away.”
“Because I’m so fucking handsome?” He grins.
“Because you have hair darker than the night itself, and your eyes burn blood-red whenever there’s a human present.”
“So? We can say they’re contacts. You can’t keep her hidden in your room forever. At some point, you need to make a decision. That is the law,” he reminds me.
“I fucking know the laws. I was there when they were made, remember?” I bite out, turning away. “Get some rest. I’ll see you at sundown,” I add over my shoulder.