CHAPTER 9
NEAR SOAKED, HE SAT IN his truck and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. “Laren—Laren, it’s Connor. I’ll explain later, but just trust me—I know everything. You have to listen: Randolph and his family have broken the Law. They’re going to try and kill you. You have to get away from here.”
Connor hung-up and threw his phone against the windshield in frustration. What if she didn’t get the message in time? What if she was already dead and it was too late?
Think, Connor, think. If you were trying to kill two members of an ancient family, how would you do it? They would be too smart to try and fight, that would be breaking one of the Laws. How would you lure them out?
A light switched on in Connor’s head and he had the answer, he only hoped he wasn’t too far behind. Throwing his truck into drive, he sped through the rain toward the Catskill Forest.
That’s where they had to be meeting. He was sure of it. More than likely, Randolph offered an olive branch and asked to talk. The meeting would take place where it was supposed to have days before, and that’s where Randolph and his accomplices would ambush them. Connor didn’t have much of a plan, he just knew he had to warn her. Driving at dangerous speeds, he pushed his truck through the rain, the pickaxe’s constant rattling reminding him of its presence. Connor was lucky: due to the rain and the late hour on a weekday, there wasn’t much traffic.
The sky darkened as he made his way up to the Forest Preserve. He reached the Preserve in record time. Pulling up to the Welcome Station, he saw Laren’s car parked in the muddy lot. Exiting his truck he had a second thought and grabbed the pickaxe out of the bed. He ran through the forest. He would check the spot where he first met her and if that didn’t work, the abandoned ranger station they used as a finish line during their race.
The forest was different at night; not as inviting or warm as during the day. Owls hooted and tree branches creaked eerily. Connor ran, disregarding the mud sucking his feet to the ground or the fact he was soaked to the bone. He had to find her. Reaching the spot where they first met, he found it empty. Without missing a step, he continued to the ranger station.
If Morrigan was right, and he had no reason to doubt her, then they would be able to hear or smell him a mile away. But how good were their senses in the rain? Connor decided not to take any chances. Pickaxe in hand, he slowed his run once he was within a hundred yards of the building.
The pickaxe felt good in his hands—it was solid and firm. It gave him a sense of comfort. Connor was sure he would give himself away by the sound of his heartbeat echoing through the trees. He crept through the underbrush, watching where he placed each foot. Careful not to slip in the mud or trip on a branch, he walked, crouched, towards the ranger outpost. Connor took a minute to see which way the wind was blowing, careful to stay downwind of the building should they be able to catch his scent.
It was then he realized that he was scared. His black hair was matted against his forehead and his wet shirt clung to his body. He had never been in a situation anything near this intense, but somehow he knew he was going to be all right, at least that’s what he kept telling himself. Bottling his fear, he took a stronger grip on the axe and pressed forward.
After a few minutes, he was able to see the abandoned ranger station and caught a glimmer of light on the other side of the loosely boarded windows. The ranger station looked even more abandoned in the night than it had during the day.
The small building was on its last leg and the water pounding on the roof sought to bring it down to its final resting place. Still cautious to stay downwind of the building, Connor searched for a window to see inside. Although they were boarded, he was able to find a window that offered a gap large enough to see through.
The building consisted of one large room. This far into the forest electricity was out of the question; four lamps illuminated the scene. The lamps were strategically placed near the four corners of the building on boxes, crates, and scattered pieces of furniture that had been left behind. The members in the room cast shadows that played against the walls, dancing and twisting like smoke.
Connor squinted, trying to see exactly how many people the room held. Soon his eyes adjusted. Laren and Lu were on one side of the room, both dressed in jeans and T-shirts—neither of them prepared for a meeting, much less the weather. On the other side was Randolph and four strangers Connor had never seen.
Two large men and a blonde woman stood with Randolph. His normal fake smile and arrogant bravado was replaced with a rather sickly expression. The leader of this group, who Connor guessed from Katie’s description to be Faust, was talking rather quickly and heatedly with the two representatives from the Abelardus family.
“You have no claim to America and have taken this land as though you were entitled to it. You think you’re so very smart. The great Abelardus family.” He spat these words with malice. “But today you’ll see that you’re not the only family willing to make bold moves. Tonight I claim for my house what is rightfully ours.”
Laren shook her head, and with imploring eyes, tried reasoning with the power-hungry Elite. “Faust, how long have I known you? Ever since I can remember. You come from a noble family and I’m sure we can work this out. My father wants a peaceful—”
She was interrupted by Lu. “Excuse the interruption, little sister, but he’s not here for peace. He’s not even here on behalf of his family.” Lu’s jade eyes met Faust’s steel blue. “Look into his eyes. You can see the blood lust. Faust doesn’t want peace.”
Connor studied Faust closer. Like his companions, he was well-dressed in a designer grey suit. His blond hair was still wet from the rain outside, and as Lu made his observation, a sinister smile crept over his thin, colorless lips.
“Ahhhhh… Lupus, you are cleverer than you look. I’m not here for the peace talks of old men. I’m here for action. Too long have the Five Families debated over America and who holds rightful claim. Today I take it.”
“Faust, you can’t. The Law. You know what will happen to you if you break it.” Laren looked at him incredulously. “Violence at this meeting would lead to full out war between our families and would force the other houses to choose sides.”
“Exactly. It will be a war this world hasn’t seen for centuries. I won’t waste my near-immortal life and be content with idly standing by and watching lesser families prosper. I will crush the other four families and if need be, my own. This will be a war to end all wars! Each of the Five Families at each others’ throats until only one remains—mine!”
Connor’s heart was still racing. He wondered whether the Elites in the room would be able to hear it. With his newfound knowledge of the Five Families, the Law, and the treaties that had been in place, he knew the consequences this night held for the rest of history. The pickaxe, still gripped tightly in his hands, felt like it weighed a ton. Rain landed on him in a constant stream. He was soaked through but he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene in front of him.
The room was awkwardly quiet. Laren took a step back to stand beside her brother. Lupus’ giant hands were clenched into fists and his entire body was one sinewy cord of muscle. Connor could see how tense he was, like a coiled spring begging to be unleashed.
“Your plan won’t work,” Laren whispered.
“Oh, and why is that?” Faust asked, his German accent thicker than ever.
“No matter what happens here, the Council will hunt you down for breaking the Law. They’ll execute you and anyone who stands with you.”
“But my sweet Larentia, it was your family that broke the pact. Lupus’ wrath and impetuous personality are widely known. He struck the first blow at the meeting. You tried to stop him but were powerless and eventually joined him. It was just self-defense on our end. And I’ll have four other witnesses, very much alive, willing to agree to that story while you’ll be very, very regrettably dead.” Faust paused, motioning to Randolph and the other three strangers in the room.
There was another pause. The silence was deafening. Connor could only relate what he was seeing to two heavyweight boxers staring each other down, waiting for the other to make the first move.
“Randolph, you know this is madness!” Lupus roared, not daring to take his eyes off Faust for even a moment.
“Oh, Randolph and I have a very clear agreement, Lupus, don’t you worry. Isn’t that right, Randolph?”
“You know I’m with you,” Randolph’s reply came back, forced and hesitant.
Right when Connor was beginning to think he should come up with some kind of plan instead of standing in the rain, the action started.
The eyes of Faust and his followers had changed from varying degrees of blue to pitch black. This wasn’t the only transformation. The entire group traded their smiles for snarls, showing off extended fangs.
Connor turned his attention to Laren and Lu. He was startled to find much the same. Menacing fangs extended from their mouths like tiny daggers. Their eyes, however weren’t black like Faust’s and his followers, they were a pale yellow.
Connor couldn’t take his eyes off Laren. It was as though he was seeing her for the first time. She was still beautiful but somehow now more herself, as if she had taken off a mask and revealed a part of herself he had always known was there. Her long brown hair, drenched with rainwater, fell in tangles around her. She was in a warrior’s stance—knees slightly bent for balance, with one foot in front of the other, arms tense and ready.
Faust gave an every so slight hand motion and the two male Elites standing behind him rushed towards Lu. At the same time, the female Elite sprang into action and made a beeline for Laren, Randolph reluctantly in her wake.
The first Elite to reach Lu was the bigger of the two; he had close-cropped black hair and a scar that ran from his right temple to his left ear. Lu met his attacker head on and they collided with monstrous force. Lu took his attacker to the floor immediately. Sitting on the scarred Elite’s chest, Lu rained down blow after blow of vicious strikes.
He landed a few of these before the other male Elite was on top of him, dragging him off his friend and pinning his arms behind his back. But he was too late, his counterpart lay limp and lifeless on the floor. Lu’s new attacker was built like a bookcase, square shouldered, sturdy and strong as an ox. Before Lu could engage this new threat, Faust, who had observed the fight until now, crossed the distance separating them. Producing a wicked-looking brass knuckle, he inserted the fingers of his right hand through the holes and formed a fist. He threw a punch and struck Lu across the left jaw, invoking a shower of dark crimson blood from his mouth.
On the other side of the room, Laren got the best of her adversary with a series of jabs and a powerful right hook. The female Elite was slowly dragging herself off the floor as Randolph and Laren now circled each other. They waited, each searching for the right moment.
Randolph was the first to strike. Feinting a left punch, he instead stepped into a right body shot with all his weight. The blow connected with Laren’s stomach, doubling her over and taking her breath. The female Elite, who had now regained her composure, assisted Randolph by restraining Laren. Forcing her in a kneeling position, Randolph grasped her left arm behind her and the female Elite, blood dripping from her nose, held a vice-like grip on Laren’s right.
They forced Laren to watch as Faust landed another blow to Lu’s face. Blood ran freely from his mouth and nose. Crimson covered half his face.
“Lupus, you stupid, stupid boy. Did you ever think you would win?” He turned to look at Laren. “And now you can watch your brother die, Larentia, and see first-hand the power of my family.”
This all took place in a matter of seconds. They were as fast as cheetahs and as brutal as raging bulls. Connor knew he had to do something before it was too late. He was outmatched in speed, strength, and numbers. What he did have going for him, however, was the element of surprise. A plan quickly began to form in his mind as he quietly made his way from the window to the front entrance.
The rain had stopped now, and a cold breeze played with the trees, swaying branches back and forth in a slow dance. Connor watched every step, careful not to make the tiniest of sounds as he turned the corner and placed himself at the front door. Readjusting his grip on the pickaxe handle, he crouched. His timing would have to be perfect, his luck even better.
Although he wasn’t able to see what was going on inside, he could still hear. Faust was going on about how he would rule the Five Families with an iron grip and how the history books would remember his valor in battle. This was followed by another thud. It sounded like a punch to the body.
Still Connor waited. He was waiting for the right moment, the moment when Faust and his band would be the most vulnerable, and the moment soon arrived.
“I bore of this nonsense,” Faust said. “Lift his head and let me have a clear shot at his throat.”
“No!” Laren screamed, sobbing. “Please no. I’ll do anything. Please stop!”
“Just as the weak plead to the strong,” was Faust’s wicked reply.
This was the moment Connor was waiting for, the moment when Faust and his accomplices were so sure of victory they wouldn’t be able to see anything else.
Connor knew he should be nervous, that would have been the appropriate response for anyone in his situation, but he wasn’t. More disturbing than his lack of nerves was the fact he was somewhat excited. His pulse quickened and a tingling sensation enveloped him. He could do this. He knew he could. The force within him—that drove him—assured him. He even wanted to laugh like he’d done so many times before when he welcomed a challenge, but this was different. He shook his head free of the idea of taking delight in such a horrible circumstance and once again focused on the task at hand.
Connor took a deep breath, counted to three in his head, and burst through the door. As he expected, the old wooden door, much like the rest of the building, was on its last leg. Behind his force, it shattered as though it were a glass window. Eyes focused on his target, he sprinted into the room.
Time slowed. Laren and the others turned. By the time they comprehended what was going on, Connor was mere feet from his target.
As much as he would have rather saved Laren, he knew the best chance they all had for survival was if he could free Lu. Every fiber in his heart told him to run to her, to strike down anyone causing her pain and keep her safe. Likewise, every synapse in his brain told him freeing Lu was the obvious choice. He wasn’t only the bigger of the two in size, but had already ended the career of one of their attackers.
Lu was slumped in his captor’s arms, half conscious as Connor burst through the door. The cold hand of his enemy raised his head, revealing his throat. The blows he’d already endured would have been enough to kill any human. For Lu, they only dazed him, and as the long fingers of unconsciousness sought to wrap themselves around him, Lu’s yellow eyes saw his savior approaching.
Connor brushed past Faust, who, still processing what was happening, made a snarling noise and a halfhearted attempt at a grab, but he was too slow. Without reducing his speed, Connor raised the silver-headed pickaxe in a huge arc. With a roar he didn’t know was inside him, he sunk the tip deep into skull of the Elite holding Lu.
He must have penetrated four or five inches of brain matter because the pickaxe was solidly placed. The Elite released his grip on Lu, his eyes turned from black back to blue, and his fangs receded as he stumbled to his knees and weakly groped at the pickaxe embedded in his head. Eventually he fell to the dirty wooden floor, never to rise again.
With no time for celebration, Connor grabbed the dark green metal handle of the nearest kerosene lamp and pivoted his body, ready to throw it into Faust’s chest. But he wasn’t there. Connor realized what happened too late. In the seconds it took him to grab the lamp, Faust recovered from his shock and placed himself behind Connor.
Connor could feel his cold breath on the nape of his neck. Faust’s anger was palpable. He only made it a half turn before Faust grabbed him around the throat, picked him up off the ground, and slammed him against the wall.
The impact Connor’s body made against the wall rattled his teeth and took his breath away. Even more disappointing, the sudden jolt made him drop the lamp. Now with his feet dangling a few inches from the floor, he struggled to breathe. Both his hands fought against Faust’s death hold, but to no avail. Faust was too strong. Without the element of surprise, things were looking worse every second.
“Who are you?” Faust growled.
Connor couldn’t even breathe, much less respond. His mind groped for an answer as his eyes took in his surroundings. Lu was struggling to make it to his knees. Laren had somehow managed to wrestle free from her captors but was still grappling with her two assailants.
Blond eyebrows furrowed, Faust leaned in toward his victim, his nose inhaling a huge whiff of air.
Stepping back and once again holding Connor at arm’s length, he cocked his head to the side. “What are you?”
Connor had to buy enough time for Lu to recover or for Laren to break free. His mind was fuzzy; with no oxygen to work with, his thought process slowed. He concentrated on answering Faust’s question but with no air, it came out as little more than a gasp.
Intrigued, Faust loosened his grip on Connor’s neck and lowered him to the ground.
“What was that?” he asked.
Connor could see Lu making his way from kneeling to standing.. Connor gasped for air, still holding Faust’s hand in both of his.
“I’m…” he drew in another breath of sweet air, “I’m the last thing you’re ever going to see.”
Releasing his grip on Faust’s hand, he reached toward his executioner’s face, and with every ounce of strength he could muster, jammed his thumbs into the dark orbs Faust called eyes.
A howl of pain broke free from deep within Faust’s chest. Releasing Connor’s throat, he broke the grasp Connor held on his eyes, once again throwing him against the wall.
Connor tried to regain the oxygen his lungs needed with deep breaths. Faust’s eye sockets were bloody and hollow. Blood was spattered down his suit and tie, dripping onto his expensive black shoes.
Faust was beyond any human words now; with a growl and open jaws, he disregarded his brass knuckle, letting it fall to the floor as he lunged toward Connor. Faust was so fast Connor had no time to react. He aimed his jaws at Connor’s throat, but missed, and clamping instead around his left shoulder.
With the force of a steel bear trap, Faust sunk his razor-sharp teeth deep, penetrating both skin and muscle. Connor screamed in pain. He tried beating, clawing, and scraping his attacker. The pain was worse than anything he had ever endured. He was sure Faust had bitten down to his bone and was now crushing tendons and ligaments. His shoulder felt like it was on fire.
Snapping his head, Faust threw Connor halfway across the room, sending him crashing into an old wooden crate. His vision blurred with pain, Connor tried to get up, but his left shoulder gave out beneath him. His white shirt was now drenched in blood. His left arm was numb.
Before he was able to gather himself and manage a second attempt to rise to his feet, an eyeless Faust tackled him.
More beast than human, Faust pushed him to the ground. He clawed at Connor’s chest with the ferocity of a wild animal. Connor was powerless to stop him and was within a few seconds of giving up all hope. Faust was too strong, and with a near broken shoulder, Connor was helpless.
Connor accepted his fate, his thoughts turning to Laren. His body vibrated and shook with pain, but instead of agony, all Connor felt was hope. Hope that Laren would survive the night and that he’d done enough to save her.
He closed his eyes, giving himself over to the darkness. But fate had other plans for Connor Moore. Suddenly the clawing and tearing stopped. Opening his eyes, he saw Randolph. Suit crimson with blood, his face told an entire story by itself. His lip was sliced open, with swelling already forcing his right eye closed, and his expression displayed a look of concern and fear.
“Come, Faust. The day is lost. It’s over.”
Faust was beyond all reason, giving in to his inner beast. Randolph grabbed him and half dragged, half carried him out of the room, disappearing into the damp night.
Connor trembled with pain and fatigue. He was no doctor, but he knew the wounds he received were life threatening. As he lay motionless on the floor, he heard a scream that marked the end of their last enemy.
At least he was able to save them. He could take comfort in that. Now if he could only see her one more time. His eyes flickered open.
“Oh, Connor. No. No. You’re going to be okay.”
Connor was fading fast. Laren looked like a shadow now. Her green eyes were the only thing bright enough for him to focus on. He could tell Laren and Lu were talking about him, but their voices were muffled. He was losing control of his senses.
“Connor, stay with me. I’m going to save you. I know you’re one of us. You have to be. But I need you to know this is going to get worse before it gets better. I’ll be here for you, but to save you, I’m going to have to put you through more pain. I just need you to know.”
Connor managed a weak smile and an even weaker, “Sounds great,” before a wave of coughing savaged his body.
Laren held his shaking frame until the coughs passed, then held him once more at arm’s length. She was different.
Laren changed. In place of her sparkling green eyes, yellow moons stared back at him, and where her perfect smile was before, a dangerous set of fangs greeted him.
Too weak to do anything else, Connor felt his body being lifted towards this being. She hugged him firmly, brought her mouth to his neck, and clenched her jaws around his jugular.
It was a feeling unlike any he ever experienced. It was as if life flowed both out of him and into him, as if an inner part of him he always knew was there, had awakened.
With each passing second, he felt stronger; his vision cleared, his shoulder and chest ceased to hurt, and breathing came easier. Still she bit him, a steel trap, her jaws wrapped around his neck. Just as he was about to push her off , the real pain started.
This pain wasn’t like the pain in his shoulder and chest, and it wasn’t like a broken bone or gash. This pain came from deep inside, as though an animal was tearing its way out. It was blinding, consuming, breathtaking. It steadily intensified until Connor didn’t know if he could handle anymore. A cry escaped from his throat completely on its own. Was it a cry or a roar? He didn’t know. All he knew was that his body was alive with power, with rage, with intensity.
There was a beast awakening inside him and the beast wasn’t happy someone had disturbed its slumber. It was tearing its way out. The power was overwhelming, intoxicating. The last thing Connor remembered was bone-crushing pain and then… nothing.