Chapter 40
CHAPTER 40
Memories of James and of the early nights with Zack continued to haunt Roger as he made his way west to the old dance studio. In the weeks since their takeover of the brick building, they had neatened the exterior. The large windows at the front of the building revealed a room that they hadn’t used yet, preferring instead to use the secondary dance studio room for their practice and planning. The location was supposed to be a secret, and with everything happening, no one had made cleaning the bigger front studio room a priority. Anyone peering closely would see the traces of light in the back of the building, but obscuring the windows more than the dust, dirt, and ragged curtains did would also be a sign of use.
Roger saw a figure moving through the deep shadows of the front room. Josefina was slipping through to the side door, so Roger went around the building and met her at it. She had her phone against her ear, but she paused to scrutinize him. She asked, “What’s happened?”
“Plenty.” Roger nodded at her phone. “Who’s that?”
“Nell.”
“Talk to her. I’ll fill you in later.”
Josefina nodded and continued down the alleyway until she was nearly at the end of the block.
Steeling his nerves, Roger went into the building.
The melody of conversation mingled with the tempo of the thuds and clinks of exercise. Roughly a dozen different voices, the largest number of people in their makeshift headquarters, had gathered. His allies had brought in others to aid in their fight. They needed fellow fighters if their revolution was to succeed, so their building had turned into a training ground as well as a war room.
Roger put his hand to Zack’s necklace and let the touch of metal reconnect him to his body. Each gem was a polished, edged bump. Sliding into his demeanor that Zack had once called Aloof Vampire, he strode into the training room.
Amber was sparing with Janiyah on a set of mats. One of the hunters Thomas had called in, Lacey, was observing them. Lacey was a woman in her early thirties who had light brown skin and a cheerful and detail-oriented disposition. She had one of the infamous Wright blades tucked into its sheath on her hip and tended to dress in black. Three of the revolution’s vampire recruits were sitting on the floor between the practice mats and the mirrors. All were closely watching the fight.
In a corner of the room, they had set up a few tables and chairs. Sometimes, Roger brought his information there to lay out and discuss with the others. For the last few nights, Roger and Thomas had been laboring over their lists of potential targets.
Tonight, Dmitri sat in one of the chairs, and he bore a pensive expression as he watched the three men before him. Two were men that Roger didn’t recognize. One was a shorter man with light brown hair and a wand sticking out of his back jeans pocket. The other was a taller man who had full tattoo sleeves on both arms. A gray tabby cat was twisting around his ankles.
The third was Thomas. His black backpack was resting on one table, the zipper open, and he was writing quickly in his leather-bound journal as the three men continued speaking. The pinch of his brow as he focused was nearly identical to Zack’s.
Zack will never grow old . Weeks ago, when the realization had struck Roger that Zack was truly mortal and would age, he had hated the idea of a world where Zack was no longer with him because he had lived the course of his mortal life. Roger had offered to turn Zack into a vampire, but Zack had soundly refused him. Spending time with Thomas had led him to regard Zack’s mortal future wistfully. It had been a thread of hope he’d clung to.
But Zack had died in the hotel, and now in his undead, immortal life, he would never grow into an old man. He’d be twenty forever. No gray hair, no laugh lines, no possibility for mortal children. Until meeting Thomas, these things had seemed like the portents of death.
Now, that far-off day would never be. A sliver of grief was a splinter in Roger’s heart, and the mere act of standing and beholding Thomas was like pressing his finger squarely on the wound.
Dmitri spotted Roger first. Roger’s attempt to remain distant must have cracked—or perhaps Dmitri knew him too well—because Dmitri slightly frowned at him, and an unspoken question filled his eyes.
Roger pulled himself from the brink of his grief and smoothed his expression once more. He crossed the room to Thomas and his two companions. Despite Dmitri’s closeness, the three didn’t seem to be in conversation with him.
“Ah, there you are,” Thomas said as Roger neared. He gestured to the two men beside him. “Roger, let me introduce you to Bastian Stone and Noah Clarke-Coldwell. Bastian’s an exorcist and technically in the Greater Circle of the Unyielding. Noah is a warlock from Artie Pendragon’s Burrow. Do you know Artie?”
Basic conversation wasn’t what Roger had prepared for. He mentally fumbled, gathered himself, and pushed away his shock. “I think I’ve come across something about the Burrow in my recent research. Artie is Arthur Warren?”
“Yeah,” Noah replied.
“It’s been some time, but I’ve met him,” Roger said. “Thomas, could I have a word?”
“Sure.” Thomas set down his pen.
Josefina was still out in the alleyway, so Roger led Thomas farther into the building. The studio had once boasted three different dance classrooms. The last one was significantly smaller than the other two and was beside the short hallway that led to a storage room, an office, and two bathrooms. What had been the office had two cots set up in it, and recently, Amber and Thomas had stayed there. Thomas was still looking for an apartment.
He’d need to be able to sleep in that room. Roger couldn’t bear the idea of making Thomas’s life harder than he had already. So, he led him into the third classroom. The only light was what came from the hallway.
As soon as they were alone, Roger’s mind blanked of words entirely. What series of sounds would be the correct ones to tell Thomas that his son, and one of the men holding a piece of Roger’s heart, was now one of the creatures Thomas spent his life killing? Would he even accept his boy? Would telling Thomas destroy the fragile alliance Roger was attempting to build with willing hunters?
“Candide knew something about what’s happening to Zack, didn’t she? That’s why you’ve got your Serious Vamp face on,” Thomas said quietly. His voice was rough, a raw emotion filling the gaps between his words. A hint of his terror for Zack’s well- being hung in the air like the faint reminder of sun on pavement just after dark.
For once, Roger was glad that hunters had invented a tattoo that blocked vampiric abilities. He wasn’t sure he could have taken the full weight of Thomas’s fear.
“She did,” Roger murmured. He didn’t want his words to carry any farther than Thomas’s ears. “Zack’s a vampire. Seamus turned him.”
Thomas began to collapse, and only Roger’s supernatural speed allowed him to grab him before he fell. Clutching on painfully, Thomas choked out, “When?”
“He rose by Christmas. He likely died in the initial attack,” Roger said quickly.
“We never had a chance to save him,” Thomas whispered hoarsely.
Roger tightened his grip on Thomas’s arms and forced him to stand a little straighter so that he had an easier time glaring into the man’s eyes. “He still exists, and he still needs us to free him from that tyrant.”
Thomas regained his balance and shoved Roger away. “Do you have any idea what his mother will do when she finds out? What Cal will do?”
“We can deal with that after we’ve freed him and Takashi,” Roger said.
“So you can live your vampire happily ever after?” Thomas demanded, his voice growing in volume. He thrust a hand out toward the second classroom where the others were. “We’re training vampires to be more deadly. How long until you turn that on the rest of us?”
The grief that had walled away Roger’s rage cracked and became a torrent in the downpour, washing him clean of pain. Anger took its place, but he would not let it break him. He clenched his fist, held his ground, and glared at Thomas. “You are in shock. I do not blame you for that. But do not use this as an excuse to backslide to your bullshit beliefs.”
“My ‘bullshit beliefs’?” Thomas snapped. He took a step closer to Roger. “I have had my time to investigate you. You are no fucking saint. The Gladwell Massacre. The slaughter of my grandfather and his people in Indiana. Your reputation as a seducer, drawing in the na?ve to become pawns in your master’s coven.”
“I had no choice in any of that,” Roger replied.
“Oh? None? You could have walked into the fucking sun. You could have run?—”
“I tried!” Roger screamed. “I ran from him. I skirted his law. I ignored his wishes until I pushed him to his limit and he reminded me of what I was. His . Not some treasured sireling, but his fucking toy. A thing . And I thought I could stand. Zack and Takashi gave me the courage. Without them, I would have caved when I returned to the city. I know that now.”
“Boo hoo,” Thomas spat out. “You would’ve partied and had your fill of sex and blood. How pitiful for you.”
“My choices were stripped from the moment he sank his fangs into me. You have no idea what it took to survive .”
“I know I’d rather die than suffer under some fucking brute for hundreds of years,” Thomas declared.
“You know nothing about what you would do in my position.” The floorboards shook out from Roger. His inner tides were roaring in his ears, stronger than Thomas’s heartbeat by a thousandfold. The pain and anger were too much. He had been holding it so tight to his chest.
Roger straightened to his full height, gladly glaring down at Thomas. A coldness overcame his voice. “Seamus never calls his sirelings his children, but he’s done so with Zack. He must have read Zack’s journal and believed he needed a father.”
The words had the vicious, sharp edge he’d sought, and Thomas stepped back as if he’d been physically struck. His eyes went wide, and he paled.
And except for his eyes, he looked just as Zack had after the party where he killed Quinn. Zack had been in deep pain, and Roger had dared to be vulnerable with him because he was certain Zack was sweet and kind and wonderful. Seeing Thomas brought that back to mind, and it was a dagger to Roger’s heart.
Too caught up in their wounds, neither said a word. They stared at each other, horror and agony digging new trenches into their souls.
There was a shuffle of sound, the lightest scrape of shoes against wood floor, and a caught breath. Roger shook himself once and slid his attention to the doorway.
Vincent was watching them. He had one hand on the fraying doorframe and one in a tight fist against his chest. His eyes were wide as saucers, and his mouth hung open. Time slowed. The world whirled on, and yet the three of them were frozen for a fraction of a moment that was its own eternity.
Then tears rolled from Vincent’s eyes. An intense burst of the want for revenge struck Roger like lightning to a mast. Vincent spun on his heel and ran.
Thomas was still in shock. Roger wasn’t about to apologize for his words, and he knew of nothing to say to him. And Vincent’s desire for revenge was odd. It had a different touch than the one he’d been nursing the last few weeks.
Roger took off after him, following him into the lit classroom. “Vincent!”
Vincent was heading for the side door.
With a burst of speed, Roger cut him off. He stood in his way, dodging to keep in front of him when he made to move past him. The room had already fallen into stunned silence before their entry. Everyone’s focus was on the two of them.
“Get out of my way!” Vincent shouted.
“I’m not letting you run out into the night like this,” Roger replied.
“Like you fucking care! I’m not your precious Zack!”
“You matter to me.” Roger held his arms wide when Vincent tried to duck past him again. Thankfully, his vampire speed gave him an advantage over Vincent’s wily dexterity. The air began to smell of ozone. “Once you calm down?—”
“Fuck calm!” Vincent slammed his palm against his own chest. “I was good! I obeyed. I did awful … I … He … Promised me! He promised over and over that if I was good, he’d turn me!” He choked out a sob and took two steps back. Something cracked in the near distance, but Roger didn’t take his eyes off Vincent. “I never stopped him. Never raised my voice. I asked him. I asked once for him to do what he said. And he beat me and left me for dead in a fucking bathroom. But he turned Zack? Zack ? Zack never had to … Never … I let Seamus do things to me … Never fought him. Never disobeyed … I was good!”
The ache in Vincent’s unsaid words echoed the abyss that Roger tried to cover in pretty words and sly smiles. But the thin layer of veneer was cracked, and the rot beneath the boards was there, longing to be purged with fire. Roger swallowed a thick cry of his own pain. The seas within him surged, and he felt his mind dragged along with the power.
Others in the room were moving, and their motion distracted Vincent and drew Roger’s attention. Lacey began to usher her students toward the front room. The vampires, including Janiyah, quickly ran with liquid speed. Amber hesitated, sending fraught glances between Vincent and Thomas, who was emerging from the back.
Bastian, the tattooed mage, locked gazes with Noah, the warlock. Noah nodded once, a slight jerk of his head, and both pulled out wands.
Dmitri was gaping. Utter surprise was not an expression Dmitri had often.
The lights flickered throughout the room. Vincent was breathing rapidly. His heart was racing. As Noah and Bastian started to raise their wands, he screamed at the top of his voice, “I’m not the problem!”
The mirrors cracked, spiderweb fractures crawling across their surfaces. Roger could feel the tides of his mind swelling and roiling within him. He had no clue what the mage and warlock were planning. Worse, he had no idea what to do with the surge of power in him. As soon as he’d noticed his power in Candide’s penthouse, it had died away. This time, it wasn’t doing that.
“He’s right. It’s me,” Roger said. “Don’t hurt him.”
Bastian cast a sideways glance at Roger that became a full look as he pivoted. “ Shit .”
“We’re not going to hurt anyone,” Noah promised. “But Vincent, buddy, you have got to breathe. Do it with me now, come on. One …”
“Fuck you!” Vincent howled. Every mirror in the room shattered to the floor.
Roger’s vision swam, and the world changed color. Bastian’s tattoo sleeves burst into vibrant color while a bright white aura emanated from him. A similar aura sprang to life around Noah, while soft, yellowy-orange auras encircled Amber, Thomas, and Lacey. Bastian’s cat shimmered as if it had pearlescent strands in its fur.
Dmitri was bathed in a red aura, but the rainbow symbol glowed faintly against his chest. The glimmer of the shifting colors caught Roger’s eye for a fraction of a second.
Then his attention returned to Vincent. A neon rainbow aura pulsed from him, each color striping out from him at a faster and faster pace, nearly becoming a white light.
“Fuck all of you!” Vincent slammed his foot on the floor. The building groaned as a shock wave went through it.
Bastian cast a glance up toward the ceiling. “Mundanes need to get out of here. Now!”
“Because God forbid anyone ever know anything painful!” Vincent continued. “He hurt me over and over and over, and he’s calling Zack his son . I thought he was joking. He was putting together this whole room, and I thought … I thought maybe … It should have been mine !”
A wind was kicking up, dust and debris rising into the air. Mirror shards whipped around the room. Amber screamed as Lacey yanked her backward. Thomas reached out for his daughter, and a shard sliced into his arm.
Dmitri blurred, grabbing Amber and Lacey, and hurried the three into the back of the building. There was an exit back there, covered in debris of what had been a storage room, and crashes happened as things were tossed to the side and out of the way.
“Vincent, I know your pain,” Roger said, calling out through the rising storm. “I know what he’s done. I know about his broken promises. You aren’t alone.”
“Yes I am! No one wants me!” Vincent returned.
“Screw this,” Noah muttered. He began to move, the tip of his wand glowed with a dull blue light. “Dor?—”
A flash of seeing Takashi fall to the floor in the hotel room struck him. Takashi’s neck had been snapped. He would have been fine, but to see him crash to the floor was still the visual of his lover collapsing dead in the moment.
Roger had failed too many times. He wouldn’t again.
Instinct kicked in, and with a cry, a blast poured out from him, like the pressure of steam screaming through a kettle. A burst of white light jumped out of him, heading for Noah.
“Defluito!” Bastian called out.
An invisible dart flew into the ball of white light, and it popped harmlessly in the air, never reaching Noah.
“—mi nunc!” Noah finished. A bolt of blue flashed from the end of his wand and struck Vincent in the temple.
Vincent’s eyes rolled upward, into the back of his head, before his eyelids fluttered shut. The radiating neon rainbow faded to a dull gray, and he sank toward the floor.
Roger rushed over to him and caught him. Vincent didn’t rouse as Roger hoisted him into his arms.
The rolling, tossing waves were growing higher, and Roger had no desire to do anything other than ride the current. Logic was a distant call, an echo of reasonability that his rage drowned before it could truly reach him.
Thomas had called these strangers. And these strangers had hurt Vincent, who had trusted him.
The cold of the shadows seeped up through him.
“What. Did. You. Do?” Roger roared. Tendrils of shadow answered his call and began to rise from the floor.
“Shit,” Noah said, eyes going wide. He danced backward with a grace Roger might have admired if his anger wasn’t overwhelming every thought. He aimed his wand at Roger.
Bastian knocked Noah’s wand downward and kept the tip of his own pointed at the corner of the room. “He’s fine. He just needs to grab control.”
Control. What had control gotten him? What had patience won him? A murdered lover who was bound to the monster who had made his nights living hells and another lover who might have been a traitor in his bed.
Roger snarled. The shadows coiled at his thought. They only needed direction.
“Roger!” Dmitri called. “Listen to him! Vincent is asleep! That’s all!”
With a feral growl, Roger pivoted toward Dmitri. The rainbow sigil on his chest shone in gentle, shifting colors, and the sight of it brought to mind the rainbows of his mortal days. A long-distant memory flickered through his mind, and he saw Dmitri standing on the edge of the ship with a breathless laugh on his lips. He hadn’t seen a rainbow in ages. He loved their light. “ A promise that the rain will leave us new ,” Dmitri had declared in his thick Russian accent. The wind had tossed his hair, and Roger had known love.
“You are better than this,” Dmitri said in the present.
I am. I have to be . The shadows of centuries clung to him, but Roger pushed them away like he had that first brush of love. He was not his rage. His anger was a vent upon the ocean floor, spewing heat, but the pocket was not endless, nor did it have to dictate the motion of the waves. He eased the way he gripped that sharp piece of his soul, and the shadowy tendrils melted into the floor.
Josefina stepped through the doorway leading from the side entrance. Her eyes had the remnants of tears. She took in the room and demanded, “What is going on?”
“Oh, nothing,” Bastian drawled, “just two practitioners coming into their powers.”