Chapter 6
Found You
ALEK
Alek watched the lights that flew above the human city. The veil shuddered once, then twice as something exploded over head. A magical wave swept through the human city as the strong magical force clashed with the barrier of the Veil.
Lights flickered as the power shut off and the silence was immediate as the steady audible buzz of electricity had been cut. He looked over the land that was silent and with little change in his expression he stepped off the side of the building he’d been standing on.
He’d felt the powerful surge and recognized the power flow of the Surrem.
He’d gotten accustomed to their vile magic.
They were disgusting creatures; their single focus was pleasure, and they had little care for others.
Moments like these gave him insight from the human perspective.
The reward of the hunt and the killing became a ritual of contrition.
His sons concern increased each time he returned; they seemed to be braced for his loss of control. They silently waited for him to show up with wounds that could not be easily reversed.
Landing lightly, he reached up and caught the wallet that had slipped from his pocket.
Placing it back, he continued out of the alley way he had landed in, and into the dark city.
He could hear the voices of the humans during the blackout proving their existences by shouting to their neighbors.
The loud sirens of the cop cars mingled with the sound of firetruck alarms.
For humans a bit of darkness stirred up panic.
Something shattered in the distance. He paused and glanced right in time to see a few robbers break into a pawn shop. He amusedly shook his head, noting the stench of their sweat denoted them as teens.
Children would be children.
Continuing along, he reached the Batman building in little time. He sniffed the air before abruptly covering his mouth and nose. The stench of Surrem magic was so thick he could barely breathe.
Magic had never bothered him but on his hunt for the enemy, he’d learned that Surrem magic was thicker, heavier and carried more impact.
Clicking his tongue, he reached for his sword and pulled it from its sheath.
The sound of metal scraping against the scabbard always soothed him.
Walking over to what looked like a crater in front of the entrance he spotted the steam still rising from it.
Cautiously he approached it. He could barely see through the bright white light that covered whatever lay in the center. Lowering his hand from his nose, he squinted down at the illuminating magic whipping back and forth. It suddenly expanded, forcing him to bring his arm up to shield his eyes.
“Shit.”
A burning heat brushed over his arms. He retreated a step, cursing again when he found himself left with a slightly singed jacket. Irritated, he looked down into the crater.
His irritation vanished.
The world narrowed to the shape lying at its center.
“Lanias?”
He whispered her name as if speaking too loudly might break whatever fragile illusion stood before him.
She didn’t move.
Lanias was curled up like a child on the ground. Her hair was short now, cut to chin length. She lay there as if she had simply fallen asleep in her room, as if the world had not declared her dead.
“Lanias.”
The second time her name left him it was rougher.
Forgetting his sword, forgetting everything, he jumped down and landed beside her. He stared at her without blinking, afraid that if he did she would disappear the way she had in his dreams.
His hand hovered above her face before he dared to touch her.
He pressed his lips together and brushed his fingers lightly against her cheek.
Warm.
Alek’s body shuddered violently and his knees gave out beneath him. He dropped beside her, his breath turning uneven despite the fact that he did not need air.
He took her hand in his.
She was real.
She was alive.
A strained sound left him, something between a broken laugh and a breath forced through clenched teeth. He bowed his head and pressed his lips to the warm brown skin of her hand. The sensation struck him with such force it bordered on pain.
Alive.
For one suspended moment he forgot the hunt. Forgot the Veil. Forgot his personal vendetta.
The wind shifted.
He lifted his head sharply.
The air above them tore open, the side of the Veil parting as if it were being unzipped.
They were coming.
The relief drained from him as quickly as it had arrived.
Gathering his senses with brutal force, he tightened his hold on her hand. Red mist coiled around them, swallowing them whole and pulling them away from the crater before the sky could fully open.
They reappeared in front of the door to his home. Lanias lay in his arms unmoving. Staring down at her, he couldn’t spot what had changed about her appearance. Were her eyes not as almond shaped as before? Or were her lips a bit wider, the beauty mark was still on her cheek.
He carried her up the front steps, the front doors creaked open with no visible assistance.
Of course, Lanias barely weighed anything in his arms. But the importance of her existence to him was akin to a stone weight that hung around his neck.
Alek would never forget how her eyes burned into his when she’d refused his help.
Reaching his bedroom, he placed her in his bed, clothes and all.
The sight of her amongst his sheets fueled him in a manner he assumed was long dead.
He winced jerking his right hand up in time to see the marking on the back of his hand change.
The wings moved along his skin and twisted back and forth until the wings turned into vines of thorns and crooked blades, in the center remained the Aramaic lettering.
He looked from it to the woman who slept unaware of the changes taking place.
He quickly left the room, closing the door.
“Dmitri.” He shouted.
His son stepped from the shadows of the hallway, into the silver moonlight that trailed it. “Yes.”
“Where are the others?”
“Sorin went to the Veil to check on his rats, Andrei is currently in North Carolina, one of the organ deals fell through. Mihai—,” he trailed off. “He said he’ll be stopping by after he’s dealt with an issue with a human gang.”
Alek made his way toward the study downstairs. “I don’t know whether to be happy that your brothers have decided to pursue their interest and not baby sit me. Or feel a bit sad for the loss of my children’s presence.”
He removed his jacket, tossing it on the balustrade.
The servants would get it in the morning since the manor was usually empty at night.
First, he didn’t like too many people in his space, and second, he didn’t want to accidentally eat one of the servants when he entered one of his moods.
As of late he’d found himself unnecessarily eager to spill innocent blood.
“Well, you still have me.” His youngest said as he followed him into the study. He walked over to the shelf and grabbed a lighter. Moving over to the row of candles that were situated in places around the room, to give it some light. “I told them I would keep an eye on you.”
Alek smirked at that, “Your brothers think I am easier on you because you look like your mother.”
Dmitri shrugged, His classical features coming into view as he lit more candles.
Unlike his brothers Dmitri wasn’t handsome, he was beautiful.
There was no other word for his face. He had heavy lashes like Gloria, and a face that could have graced an angel.
But the mind behind those heterochromia eyes, one grey like his and the other blue, like his deceased queen, did not know how to seek out peace.
“My face has little to do with it,” he said calmly as he placed the lighter down on the coffee table.
“I am not favored for my face. I am favored for my ability to follow orders.” He faced Alek, gathering his hands behind his back.
“Sorin, Andrei, and Mihai, are too independent for what must be done now.”
Alek assessed his youngest coolly, from behind his desk. “You should be careful how you speak; one would think I didn’t raise you with love and care.”
Dmitri didn’t respond to that observation he however stated, “The female, she is your weakness.”
“That’s an interesting word to choose,” Alek said, indeed he’d raised his youngest differently from his other sons.
Dmitri knew nothing of the embrace of a mother, nothing of warmth and caring.
He viewed himself as the weapon that Alek had created him to be from that magical stone of the werewolves. “She is much more.” Alex responded.
Will it hinder our hunt? Dimitri continued with concern.
“Why would it?” Alek demanded, narrowing his eyes. “And if it did?”
Dmitri didn’t respond to the observation. He simply said, “The female is your weakness.”
Alek didn’t move a muscle, and not a single emotion was betrayed by his face.
His youngest only felt a crushing pressure on his throat and his retreat stopped short.
He coughed as his eyes widened in alarm and his fingers clawed at the unseen restriction around his throat, his knees gave out.
Dmitri hit the floor twisting and turning seeking relief as his neck turned red.
“I will admit I was a strict father to you and your brothers,” Alek mused aloud thoughtfully.
“I’ve made you do terrible things for me and the Veil to ensure we reclaim our place.
But I grow sorely tired of these childish tantrums and threats you four seem eager to cast my way.
” He turned his back to his son, who continued to groan as the red color receded from his throat.
“I am your Monarch. You will do only as I order and nothing else.”
Pushing himself up, Dmitri gagged before he threw up. His body shuddering, as he coughed. He forced himself to stand. He eyed his father’s back with trepidation. The words he’d said hadn’t been meant as a threat but clearly his father felt something for the woman now sleeping upstairs.
“Y-Yes, Monarch.” He forced the words past his lips, the pain in his throat still searing. “I will heed your words.”’
“Good, now leave.”
Alek lowered his head the minute his son’s aura disappeared.
“What are you doing?” He asked himself aloud covering his face. His had lashed out at the youngest, with full intent on taking his life. Alek turned around and looked over the land he’d bought, when he decided to leave the veil to enact his revenge.
He’d found four Surrem.
Their screams of pain barely alleviating the nauseous pressure on his chest. Each day he’d felt his ability to breathe diminishing.
Noble Vampires were stronger and enjoyed their humanity, but his time was running out.
Had he hit the end of his rope, the dreams grew vivid and more real.
The fire was drawing closer, as the face upon the head that fell morphed each time.
Madness was creeping in much closer he could feel it. The reality that one minute he would be the Monarch and the next, nothing.
“Lanias,” he whispered, “Will you save this dying king I wonder.”
He remained in the study till the sun rose.