The car pulled to a rapid stop. It was night and Jason could immediately tell it was somewhere in rural New South Wales. The maternal side of Jason’s family were scattered around the region, and it was all familiar, from the grass and trees to the gravel road and even the smell. There were no lights other than from the car, but Jason could see easily through the darkness. The overcast winter sky blocked out the stars, the moon a diffuse glow behind the clouds.
Jason could clearly make out the three people in the car, one for each of the bronze-rank auras. The silver-ranker was not present. For the moment, it didn’t matter if he was dead or just absent, so long as he wasn’t around to pose a threat. As for the others, Jason was about to fill the final moments of their lives with misery, torment, and fear.
20
MORE VALUABLE THAN A LIFE
The building looked like any of the other industrial warehouses around it. The inside, however, was an operations centre for the Cabal. Three reinforced security doors lay between the exterior and a set of concrete stairs leading down to a square, concrete room, behind a fourth, even more secure door. The room was empty apart from a cot fixed to the wall and the vampire sitting on it. His hands were held in alchemically treated handcuffs, his legs chained in similarly treated manacles.
His clothes were bloody and bedraggled, although the injuries that left them in that state had already been healed by his vampiric regeneration. The effort of doing so had left him hungry and only blood fresh from the source could slake vampiric thirst. They had only allowed him to feed on a live goat which, compared to human blood, was like drinking raw sewage.
The door opened to admit Vermillion. He had a folding chair that he opened and placed facing the prisoner.
“Hello, Clinton.”
“You must be loving it,” Clinton said, sneering at Vermillion. “Seeing me like this.”
Vermillion sighed.
“You think any of this is good for me?”
“You have the satisfaction of seeing a rival brought low.”
“Rival?” Vermillion said with a pitying look. “That’s what you think? Clinton, before you perpetrated this spectacularly woe-begotten disaster, I never gave you a second of thought any time you weren’t standing right in front of me. Is that what this is all about? Trying to prove that you’re better than me?”
“My lineage alone makes me better than you,” Clinton said. “My uncle turned me, and you know who he is. We don’t even know who made you into one of us.”
Vermillion shook his head.
“The Cabal doesn’t care where we came from, Clinton. We each have to prove our worth. You gave the Cabal your measure yesterday, and this is where it’s gotten you.”
“My uncle won’t stand for this.”
Vermillion shook his head, not bothering to respond. He stood up, left the cell and walked up the concrete stairs. Another man waited at the top with a grave expression.
“Craig,” the man greeted.
“Franklin.”
“Sorry again about all this.”
“It is what it is,” Vermillion said. “Instead of complaining about what we can’t fix, we need to get on with fixing what we can.”
Franklin nodded soberly. He made his way down the stairs and into the cell.
“Hello, Clinton,” Franklin said, claiming the seat left by Vermillion. Franklin’s features had a vague resemblance to Clinton, but Clinton’s appearance was middle-aged, while Franklin looked no more than thirty at most.
“Uncle Frank, you have to get me out of this.”
“I tried to keep you from getting into it,” Franklin said. “You never met the requirements for the clan to consider making you one of us, but I convinced them to be compassionate. The only reason they let me turn you was that without it, you would have died.”
“I’ve proven myself.”
“Yes,” Franklin said. “You’ve certainly made your value clear. Your ambitions have outstripped your abilities at every turn. The unrelentingly disappointing results of every task assigned to you has demonstrated the value of the clan’s recruiting policies. Getting involved with the Blood Riders was very nearly the final straw. I had to fight to give you the chance to clean up your own mess. I warned you that this was a final chance for you, and what did you do? You caused a disaster.”
“It’s just a few dead bikers.”
“Innocent people are dead, Clinton. The Network is on the warpath. We’re burning political capital like kindling to stop this from permanently hurting the Cabal’s position in this city. This entire country. The world is watching, and not just the magical world.”
“It wasn’t my fault. If people didn’t show so much favouritism to Vermillion, I never would have needed to make such bold moves.”
“Bold? It is that what you call the most idiotic act of self-destruction I can conceive of? Did someone put you up this? I know you’re not smart enough to be a conspirator, but if someone used you, then they found a fine tool indeed.”
“It was Vermillion that pushed me to this!”
“Vermillion? I suppose I can see that. He draws favour because he’s competent, cautious, and meticulous, with excellent foresight. A poster child for everything you lack. He may be careful and patient enough to set you up for this without it being tracked back to him, but he’s smart enough to know that this has a million unseen ways to go wrong. He’s in the doghouse now for failing to stop you before you caused this debacle.”
Clinton sneered, only to be startled as Franklin slapped him hard across the face.
“You’re happy? Do you have any idea of what I owe him now? You’re my responsibility, which means the blame for your actions falls on me. I’m in a worse position than Vermillion because of this. So now I have to make a gesture to prove my loyalty and contrition, both to the clan and to the Cabal.”
“What kind of gesture?” Clinton asked warily.
“A sacrifice. After all the trouble you’ve caused me, you will finally demonstrate some worth. Like everything else about you, it’s only your relationship to me that gives you any value at all. The Cabal and the clan are both severing ties with you. You’re being handed over to the Network. My facilitation of this is my show of loyalty and contrition. One of many that will continue until long after you’re dead.”
“You can’t.”
“It’s already done, Clinton. You were never going to get out of this with a clean death after killing Julius. He had some actual potential, which is why we had him riding herd over you. We wanted him to see what not to do, but you taught that lesson too well. Then, true to form, you mess up disposing of the body. I mean, bloody hell, boy. If you’re going to saw a man into pieces, get some garbage bags or a plastic sheet or something. I mean, pillowcases? You can’t even fail properly. You are the worst vampire in the world.”
“My actions were decisive and ruthless,” Clinton argued. “Those are the things a vampire should be.”
“In control is what a vampire should be, Clinton. That was never you. I should have refused my sister. I apologise for not letting you die the death of a normal man. You would have died quietly and been remembered fondly.”