Chapter 7 Erik
Erik
From my position at the kitchen counter, I hear Lucian's voice echoing from the basement."Chill out, baby vamp! You'll be fine down here!" A pause, followed by his characteristic irreverence. "I'll bring you some O-negative happy meals. Premium stuff, none of that bargain basement blood!"
The fledgling's sobs reverberate through the floor.
While confining Dani's brother is far from ideal—and would undoubtedly earn us her considerable wrath—current circumstances leave us with no alternative.
His safety, and that of others, must take precedence until we can properly address his transformation.
I maintain my rigid posture as Lucian storms back into the kitchen, his usual sardonic demeanor twisted with rage.
"Well, isn't this just a fucking party favor wrapped in barbed wire?
" He yanks at his golden hair, pacing like a caged animal.
"Our psycho mommy dearest decides to crash back into our lives after playing hide and seek for centuries?
Should we send her a welcome back fruit basket? Maybe some artisanal blood truffles?"
I resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose at his theatrical display, though I understand the sentiment behind it. My brother's ability to transform every crisis into a one-man Broadway production never ceases to amaze me.
We've retreated to the mansion to formulate a strategy—I recall the aftermath of our recent disaster with practiced detachment.
Alaric and Vivienne departed an hour ago, their expressions grim as they headed back to the UK.
Our powerful allies need to be informed of this catastrophic shift in power—Lilith's return poses a threat that extends far beyond our immediate circle.
Political chess pieces need to be moved, alliances reinforced.
Brandon's return to New York presents its own complications.
With Azrael's death, the wolf packs have lost their primary blood supplier.
Years of drinking vampire blood have turned them into addicts—a strategic disaster waiting to explode.
The wolves' dependency on vampire blood was always a tactical vulnerability, but now, with Lilith controlling the game board, their desperation could make them dangerous wild cards.
"Brother," I state, my voice carrying the weight of decades of dealing with his dramatic bullshit, "you must compose yourself. This situation requires tactical precision, not your usual chaos and prayer approach."
"Compose myself?" Lucian whirls on me, his face inches from mine. "Our batshit crazy Maker has Dani, and you want me to keep my cool?" He resumes his relentless pacing, brushing off Seraphina's attempts to calm him. The angel's honey-colored eyes follow his movement with growing concern.
I observe his mounting distress, remembering the fragments of horror he's shared about his time under Lilith's control. His current anguish is more than justified if his experiences mirror my own torments.
"The evidence suggests a Hawthorne witch still walks among us," I declare, my mind returning to that fateful day when Rhyland and I sealed Lilith away with the help of their ancient magic. "Only one of their bloodline could have broken the enchantment binding her."
Lucian freezes mid-stride, his dark brown eyes boring into mine. "Come again? In my ears this time."
I fight the urge to snap back at Lucian's biting remarks."Rhyland and I decided to entomb Lilith to protect anyone else from further torment," I explain. "We believed it was in your best interest not to burden you with knowing her fate. By telling you she left, we hoped this would help you."
That day is seared in my brain.
London, England 1866
Wind lashes against my face as I stand beside Rhyland in the ancient cavern. Grave Warden, firmly in my grip. The Hawthorne witch, Elizabeth, chants behind us, her voice echoing off the cave walls.
"Brother," Rhyland's commanding voice cuts through the howling wind that whips through the entrance, his ocean-blue eyes blazing with determination. "Any fucking second now."
The very air trembles as Lilith approaches. Her green eyes glow with otherworldly malice, porcelain features twisted into a cruel smile.
I watch as she stalks through the cavern entrance, her white dress stained crimson with evidence of her latest atrocity.
The memory of St. Catherine's Orphanage threatens to crack my careful control—twenty-three small bodies, arranged like broken dolls in their beds.
Her "tribute to innocence," as she called such displays.
In all my years of existence, I have witnessed mankind's capacity for cruelty, yet Lilith's systematic targeting of children—her perverse obsession with their "pure souls"—represents a darkness that exceeds even my considerable experience with horror.
My grip tightens on Grave Warden's hilt, centuries of disciplined restraint warring with the urge to separate her head from her shoulders. But we must maintain our positions. The witch's spell requires precise timing.
This ends tonight. It must.
"Well, well... if it isn't my two favorite disappointments," she sneers, with aristocratic disdain. "Summoning me here to beg forgiveness for your atrocious manners? Or are you here about that pathetic waste of immortality you call a brother?"
The memory of Lucian's suffering grinds my teeth—decades of psychological torture that drove him to press a stake against his own heart, demanding his freedom. Even now, the scars of her "motherly affection" haven't fully healed.
"You sick bitch. The only groveling will be you begging for mercy," Rhyland snarls, his massive frame tensed for battle. "Your reign of terror ends tonight."
I grip my sword tighter, watching as Elizabeth continues her incantation. The ancient runes we'd carved into the stone walls begin to pulse with an eerie light. Just a few more moments...
Lilith's laughter echoes through the cavern. "You dare challenge me? I made you what you are!" She blurs quickly attacking Rhyland, but Rhyland stands firm, his own abilities matching hers.
"Now, Erik!" Rhyland roars.
I move with unnatural speed, my blade singing through the air. Lilith deflects my first strike, but it's merely a distraction. Rhyland's attack comes from behind, driving her deeper into the cave.
Elizabeth's voice rises to a crescendo, the Hawthorne magic crackling through the air like lightning. "By blood and bone, by ancient stone, I bind thee!"
Lilith's screams of rage turn to horror as she's magically sealed inside—a barrier she cannot even break. "You cannot do this to me! I am your Maker!"
"You are nothing but a monster," I state coldly, watching as the enchanted stone tomb seals her fate. "And monsters belong in the dark."
Rhyland's power combines with the witch's spell, forcing the stone door closed. "You will never harm another soul," he declares, his voice resonating with authority.
The last thing we see is Lilith's face contorted in fury before the stone door seals shut, Elizabeth's magic binding it with ancient Hawthorne symbols.
Rhyland places a heavy hand on my shoulder, "It's done, brother."
I nod solemnly, knowing we can never tell Lucian of this night. The trauma Lilith inflicted upon him runs too deep. "What of the witch?" I ask, turning to where Elizabeth stands, exhausted but proud.
"Her bloodline will guard this secret," Rhyland responds. "The Hawthorne's have sworn it."
We believed it would hold her for eternity. We were wrong.
Destroying one's Maker requires power beyond conventional means.
The bond between Maker and progeny creates a nearly impenetrable defense—a fact Lilith exploited with calculated cruelty.
Even with our combined strength and combat experience, Rhyland and I could only manage to imprison her.
The witch's ancient magic, combined with our abilities, barely proved sufficient to seal her in that stone tomb.
The fact that she has now broken free... troubling would be a gross understatement.
I blink away the memory, jaw clenched tight. Our...final solution...to ensure Lilith's imprisonment—one that still haunts me centuries later—should have made this impossible. Unless—
"You fucking did what?" Lucian's voice rises to a roar. "You trapped that psychopath and never thought to mention it?"
I meet his furious gaze steadily. "We made a conscious decision to spare you further trauma. Rhyland believed it would be... kinder. By allowing you to believe she had simply left, you could heal, knowing she had relinquished her hold over you."
A bitter laugh erupts from Lucian, sharp and caustic. "Oh, that's just fucking perfect. Really stellar brotherly bonding moment here. Thanks for keeping me in the dark about entombing our psycho mom. Really appreciate that tidbit of info being kept—"
"—Hey, Captain Man-Pain!" Emily's voice cuts through the tension like a sharp blade. "How about we shelf your dramatic feelings for later? Instead of crying about being excluded from the Super Secret Vampire Club. Maybe we focus on Erik's intel about the psycho bitch who has my best friend?"
The corner of my mouth twitches at Emily's brazen outburst. Lucian responds with an exaggerated eye roll before dragging himself to the nearest stool.
Seraphina immediately gravitates to his side, her gentle presence tempering his volatile emotions.
He whispers soft apologies to her, his earlier fury dissipating under her touch.
Emily arches an eyebrow. "Don't you have some vampire blood hotline thing going with Dani? Maybe try using that?"