Chapter Twenty-Five
Lavinia met her Sisters in the overgrown backyard of the house where the three bodies still lay inside.
Luce was there, flanked by Octavia, Messalina and Brigh, the youngest member of the Sisterhood at only one-hundred-and-twenty-two.
She was tall, even taller than Luce, and thickly muscular.
Her natural red hair was cut short, and the gold of her eyebrow piercing stood out against her pale freckled skin.
She had joined the Sisterhood only a decade ago.
Still, within that short time, she had proven herself to be a reliable fighter.
There had been whispers in society that Brigh had only been offered to the Sisterhood for political gain, a concession to the old families of the British Isles who complained of the Roman lineages dominating vampire society.
Whatever the gossips said, whatever the intentions of the people surrounding Brigh had been, Lavinia knew one thing for sure: Brigh was a Sister of Twilight just as much as any of them.
Despite the cloud cover, Lavinia could feel the sun bearing down on them, draining their powers.
It would be another six hours until sunset.
Night would be both a blessing and a curse, a double-edged blade.
They would regain their natural strength, but so would the rogue. They would have to be careful.
“Are they safe?” Luce asked Lavinia as she joined them.
“I took them up to the apartment.” She hoped Zachary could help keep Michelle calm. She had to be quite upset after what she’d seen. Lavinia wished she could have stayed with Michelle, her heart aching to be at her side.
“Good.” Luce surveyed the surrounding houses, making sure they hadn’t drawn any unwanted attention.
“Quintia is scouting ahead. Vesta is with the witches right now and will bring them here if they ask to see the bodies. We don’t know what they’ll want to do beyond that. Pina is holding down the house.”
“She must hate that,” Octavia said with a smirk. “Missing out on all of the action.”
“Needs must. I won’t risk her in the field, especially as we don’t know what we’ll be dealing with here. How’s your leg, Vin?”
Lavinia tested the hip joint, putting her full weight on it and exploring the limits of movement. There were some stabs of pain, but no weakness or lack of control. “Good enough,” she said.
Luce’s dark eyes bored into hers for a moment. “Fine,” she said. “It’s your call.”
“What’s our plan?” Lavinia asked.
“I’ve already spoken to the Magistrate and gotten clearance to use whatever force necessary. The rogue poses an unacceptable threat to our safety and to that of the humans, and should be eliminated. They said to be careful to appease the witches, as this falls into a grey area of our treaty.
“The way it looks now, we will follow the rogue, pin down their location, surround the area, and go in armed. We will have to blend in while we seek.” It was one of the realities of modern life that humans were absolutely everywhere.
Gone were the times when the vampires could easily move about without notice.
This was London, and while Londoners were used to some level of eccentric behaviour, wearing full armour in broad daylight would draw too much attention.
They would wear running clothing for now, an easy disguise.
Later, they would have to regroup and arm themselves before confronting the rogue, wherever he had hidden himself.
Quintia returned and led them down a warren of streets behind the house.
The scent of the rogue was easy to follow now that its contours had been imprinted onto their memory.
Even the cacophony of smells of the city couldn’t easily obscure a scent trail once it had been latched onto by several master trackers.
Octavia ran point, following the scent. Brigh and Quintia explored side paths.
Luce, Lavinia, and Messalina brought up the rear, pushing the group onwards.
With the six of them, they could easily branch off, testing various strands and doublings of trails, as the rogue had moved erratically through various paths to attempt to confuse any pursuers.
Still, together, they relentlessly held the bitter, sour stench of the rogue’s sweat central in their mind as they scouted through passageways filled with mould and walked past busy thoroughfares.
After an hour, during which they had traversed over nine miles through the metropolis, Luce received a text from Vesta. “The witches are at the house,” she said. She held up the phone for them to read the rest of the message. It simply read: AND THEY ARE NOT HAPPY!!
They continued their hunt, a watery sun appearing overhead during the afternoon.
Its rays sapped Lavinia of some of her strength, but there was no resting now.
The only way to keep Michelle safe in the long term was to find the killer.
As much as she loved having her close, Michelle was not a bird to be caged, kept in Thornblood while demons roamed outdoors.
She deserved to be free to go and do whatever she wished.
If that might mean she would no longer need Lavinia… then she would have to accept that.
Around three o’clock they lost the trail for half an hour.
It reached a dead end along the Thames, the scent disappearing into the murky water near some docks and warehouses.
Aware he might be followed, the rogue had entered the river, one of the few ways to break off a trail of scent.
The Sisters split along the riverbank, three taking the north bank, three the south.
They fanned outwards, determined to find the place where the rogue had left the river again.
Lavinia jogged along the path on the embankment, taking in the air of the city.
The movement loosened some of the tight muscles around her hip.
It felt good to have the wind in her hair, to burn off some of the tension that had been building up during the day.
She wondered how Michelle was doing, whether she was okay.
But along those lines lay another worry, an anxiety that went beyond this hunt.
It felt like today had set something into motion that could only end in two ways: either they would kill the warlock-rogue, or they would die trying.
They were hurtling towards a confrontation, drawing ever closer.
There was no doubt in Lavinia’s mind that they would find him.
There would be no hiding, even in a city of millions.
Failure was not an option. The Sisterhood would prevail.
But what lay beyond that? Lavinia’s footsteps pounded rhythmically along the pavement, her breaths coming deeply and steadily.
Michelle would want to go back to her job, her life.
Lavinia would miss her. She would miss her cheerfulness, her smile.
She wouldn’t be there anymore to bring her tea, to watch her favourite shows with her.
Michelle had taught her to relax, to enjoy their time together.
Michelle brightened every day, gave it shape and meaning.
She had tasted her blood, and more, and it had awoken a hunger within her that could not be stilled.
Suddenly, eternity seemed unbearable without Michelle in it.
A whiff of bitterness lay on the wind. Lavinia stopped, resting her hands on her waist as if winded by her run, in case any curious humans were paying attention. She used the opportunity to close her eyes, drawing her attention to the air passing through her nose.
There. The rogue had come this way. It was subtle, diluted by the stench of the sewage in the river water. Still, even a swim couldn’t completely mask the scent. Lavinia pulled her phone from her pocket and quickly shared her location with her Sisters.
The hunt continued.
* * *
The phone rang. Michelle jumped, the device buzzing in her lap. Lavinia. In her hurry, it almost slid from between her fingers. “Hey,” she said breathlessly, once she had succeeded in accepting the call.
Lavinia’s familiar voice sounded through the speaker. “Hello, this is Lavinia.”
So formal. Michelle smiled, softening. “Are you okay? Have you found him?”
“Not yet, but we’re getting close. Octavia thinks the trail is fresh, now. He was here only a couple of hours ago or so.” There were voices in the background. The other Sisters, arguing about something.
“That’s good,” Michelle said. It was good, wasn’t it?
The Sisters getting closer. Yet at the same time, that also meant they were getting closer to danger.
She wished there could be another way, some way that didn’t involve blood and violence.
Then she remembered the three dead bodies lying in a dilapidated London house. There would be no other way.
“Are you well?” Lavinia asked.
Michelle willed her voice to be steady, to not let the tears that lay unshed behind her eyes escape. “I’m fine,” she said, and almost believed it herself.
“And Zachary?”
Michelle glanced through the window onto the balcony. Zachary leaned on the metal balustrade, a cigarette in his right hand. He took a drag, enjoying the view of the city.
“He doesn’t seem very bothered by any of it,” she answered truthfully. “He’s been looking through all of the takeout menus. I think he might be planning some kind of feast for tonight.”
Lavinia chuckled on the other end of the line. Michelle wished she could hold onto that sound, keep it close. What if this was the last time she’d ever hear it? She pushed that thought away. If the others could keep it together, so could she.
A voice—Michelle thought it might be Quintia’s—said Lavinia’s name. “I have to go,” Lavinia said. “I’ll check in with you when I know more.”
In a heartbeat, the connection was broken. Michelle stared at the black emptiness of the screen. It looked like death.