The Shadow's Son (The Witch Hunter Saga) Page 13

  "Mary who?" Zac really wasn't up on his English history.

  "Mary Queen of Scots. The so called Scottish Queen who plotted to have Queen Elizabeth assassinated so she could take the throne. Her head was cut off for treason. You can ask Pyke about that part."

  "Sounds like you were on the side of the righteous, once."

  "I did too many dark things when I was human to be considered good," he grimaced at some old memory. "Even if they were done in the name of all that was good and righteous. Or so I was told by the Crown. Serving Regulus is as good as serving the Tudors. It's all the same to me. Don't mistake my story, Zac. That was another life and I owe the Hunter nothing. She pulled me from that fire ship, only for me to become this. Fact is, she has a soft spot for the downtrodden. And you, my friend, are fucking downtrodden."

  Zac didn't want to talk about how screwed up he was. "How did you become a vampire?"

  Nye laughed wryly at his blatant question. He knew exactly what his associate was doing. "There was more than filth that stalked the deepest reaches of the Tower of London. Men were sent there to die and many were taken by our kind as the executioners axe. That's all I'll say about that." When Zac didn't say anything, he continued, "And how did you become a vampire?"

  He raised an eyebrow at his unexpected friend. "Surely you know something about that?"

  "Yeah, the Readers Digest version."

  He sighed, not wanting to think about things long past. "I was already dying, so I didn't really have a choice."

  "I don't know many who came into this life willingly. And that's what probably fucked you up," Nye said. "You'd made peace with your death and some bitch brought you back and neglected to teach you right from wrong." He laughed, "Just like my pitiful excuse of a mother. Cheapside was a cess pool to grow up in, even more with a whore like her telling me I was a no good son of a bitch. She got the bitch part right by the way."

  "What happened to her?"

  "I got to work for the Crown and she got stuck with a knife for a slice of bread. The 1500s were a nice time. Golden Age my arse."

  Zac rested his forearms on his knees and watched the world go by below. Every vampire he'd ever met had their own sob story, even Nye and he didn't have the issues he did. Maybe that was his problem. He still hadn't decided if he wanted to continue living or just end it.

  Now wasn't the time to think about it. He had work to do. "Wouldn't Aya recognize you?"

  "She wouldn't recognize the man I am now. Vampirism has changed me, along with this fucking thing," Nye traced the ragged line of his scar, from his temple, across the bridge of his nose to his jawline.

  "You're still devishly handsome," Zac said, wryly.

  "I can see you're feeling better," he grinned.

  "Ironically, you seem to know how to calm me the fuck down," he shook his head.

  "Because I've been there. I'm four hundred and twenty. I know a few things," Nye said, tapping a finger on his temple.

  He might have calmed him down, but Zac knew that it was only one time of many. Next time he mightn't be here and he couldn't let himself rely on someone else like that. He had to be able to calm himself down.

  "Do you have any idea why Regulus brought you here?" Nye asked.

  "The obvious reason would be because of her."

  "Yeah, but why?"

  "He wants something that she has access too," he shrugged. "That much I know."

  Nye grunted, but didn't answer, instead looking out across the city.

  "Do you know what she's looking for?" Zac asked.

  "Not a bloody clue. It's got to do with witches, though. Always does." Nye shivered, pulling his coat closer around him, even though he wouldn't have felt the cold. "And witches give me the heebie jeebies, if you know what I mean."

  Zac raised an eyebrow.

  "The creeps, mate. The fuckin' creeps."

  He snorted. "It's always witches."

  "That's what I say," Nye exclaimed. "People say it's us vampires who get into the most shit, but the way those witchy types can worm their way into your head… Bloody hell. They should come with a warning label or somethin'."

  Despite his best efforts to the contrary, Zac found himself liking Nye. Perhaps one day they could become friends. The vampire had a way of explaining things that made the impossibly difficult sound easy.

  "People change for two reasons," Nye said, a faraway look on his face. "Either they learn enough that they want to change or they've been hurt enough that they have to. It's the same for us."

  Zac laughed, "Nye, you're a fucking poet."

  "I'd have given Will Shakespeare a run for his money," he winked. "Seriously, I've been around almost five hundred years. I learnt how to read people and pretend to be things that I wasn't from the best of the best spymasters the English had to offer. It's hard not to be this awesome."

  Zac stifled a groan, suddenly feeling a lot better. A lot lighter.

  Nye clapped him on the shoulder. "If I can pass some of that on, then I will. You fuckin' need it." He looked Zac over and said, "Ready to go back?"

  Looking down onto Regent Street as the dawn began to lighten the night into a dreary grey, he nodded. Time to screw his head back on and focus. He couldn't lose himself now.

  Turned out, they got a summons from Regulus the next day.

  Zac and the Six arrived at the house in Hampstead in the early afternoon, assembling in the downstairs sitting room. The Roman wasted no time laying out his assignment. "As you all know, there has long been rumor of a coven of witches operating in London that has a bit of a nasty reputation. They have something I want and Aeriaya wants it as well. She's been hanging around asking a lot of questions and having secret meetings with witches and priests and all kinds of people. I want to debunk her efforts and find out what she knows."

  "Is Tristan still with her?" Nye asked.

  "It would seem so."

  "What do you want us to do with him?"

  "Whatever you want as long as it results in him being in pain." Regulus pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and begun to unfold it. "I'm sending you all to a party."

  "A party?" Zac asked, a little surprised.

  "The Coronet Theatre in South London," he said, flinging the flyer at Nye. "They have a meeting scheduled with a witch who is part of the Coven. A defector. This Halloween Ball is meant to be a cover."

  "What do you need us to do?"

  "Find out what the witch has to say and what Aeriaya intends to do about it. And if you can capture her and that little shit, Tristan, then all the better."

  "And the informant?" Nye asked.

  "Capture it. It's a half-breed and it will be useful to me."

  Zac wanted to know what he meant by half-breed, but he knew better than to push for answers to questions that weren't his to ask.

  "When is this?" Maddox asked.

  "Tonight. You have your orders."

  That seemed to be their cue to leave. As they filed out of the room, Regulus held back Nye. Zac faltered a moment, unsure if he should wait for him.

  "Go," he said. "I'll catch up."

  Following the others outside he wondered what he was going to do tonight. It seemed that he would face Aya in a matter of hours. He found himself thinking about the look on her face and what it would be. Could he bring himself to capture her after everything they'd been through? He'd freed her twice and she'd died to save his life… then she had stabbed him in the back. Any sane person would be plotting their revenge against the woman who tricked them into loving her to get what she wanted. But, Zac wasn't sane.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The cold London air hung around Zac like icicles, the clear sky sparkling with stars only his vampire eyes could see through the light pollution. Perched on the roof of the old Coronet Theater, jamming his hands deep into the pockets of his heavy black coat, he could see the entire street laid out beneath him. The tube station to the left with its steady stream of human commuters, the Elephant and Castle pub opposit
e, bathed in the neon orange glow of the lights that dotted the road. Directly below, the footpath was lined with revelers, dressed in their Halloween costumes, waiting for security to let them into the theatre. All kinds of characters were present, the stock standard devils and angels, zombies, fairies, vampires and random madness. He knew the crowd was also littered with the real thing, masked not only by their costumes, but by witches magic.

  Regulus had more than vampires in his employ. Rouge witches had met them earlier and worked their magic. Now, they could move about the theatre without any trouble from outside interference. Even Aya wouldn't be able to sense the Six, though he wondered about his blood.

  Zac was steeling himself for the moment he would lay eyes on her. He'd proved himself to the Roman and it was time for him go solo; to send a message to Aya and her half breed friend with whom she was said to be meeting here. If he delivered it was another question entirely, but his presence alone would be warning enough that Regulus' reach was absolute.

  He was still totally unprepared when his eyes locked onto Aya's familiar form hidden by the fake hanging plants that hung between the windows of the pub. She wasn't alone. The other form was also obscured, but he instantly recognized Tristan pressed close to her, talking earnestly into her ear. Zac didn't know for sure that they were still working together and it burnt a hole through his heart. That she would refuse him and trust the knight with this task. He imagined his glare was so full of malice, that they would feel it burning into them and surely look up to find him on top of the theatre.

  But instead, Tristan's arms wound around Aya's waist, his hands on the small of her back. Zac's anger was an absolute inferno that burnt right into what was left of his soul. She let her head fall into the curve of his shoulder, her delicate hand coming to rest above his heart; and Zac felt like he was dying.

  She hadn't heard him yet, his blood was dulled by his tentative grip on his humanity. Well, in that case, he would just have to let it go. He couldn't take it anymore, the hurt, the longing. After all this time… seeing her with Tristan was the last straw. It seemed that death was the one who would claim him. This life needed to be destroyed.

  Zac imagined himself tearing Tristan apart as he stared down at them. He fantasized ripping his arms off and plunging the ragged bones into his heart, killing the vampire who would take his love away, relishing the life slipping from his eyes. The blood that would pool on the ground at his revenge, seeping into the asphalt, trickling down into the storm drains, staining everything with his hate. Tearing his eyes from them, he went back inside the theatre, unable to watch anymore. And Zac turned his humanity off like he would a light switch, the ragged ends of it searing as they fell away.

  Inside, he met up with Nye, who was standing on the stairs, watching the crowd of humans mill about. He raised an eyebrow at him. "You're different."

  "They're here," he said, ignoring the spy's comment. "Have you seen the half-breed?"

  "That's her," Nye nodded towards a young woman who was weaving through the crowd, looking over everyone she passed. She was quite pretty for a witch. Alabaster skin, long straight chestnut hair, big brown eyes.

  Zac inhaled her scent as she walked past and frowned. She was oddly familiar, though he had never laid eyes on her before. She didn't turn their way, whatever witches magic had been weaved over them rendered them negligible.

  "I'll shadow her," Nye elbowed him and disappeared into the throng of people.

  Pushing past anyone who stepped in his way, he went back upstairs, content to watch from the balcony. Up here, there was another bar and almost as many people. A roving performer shoved a tray of drinks under his nose and he took one, downing it in one go. Zac had never totally let go of his humanity before and it was an odd sensation; not caring. Whatever was going to happen tonight, the thing that lived inside of him would take care of it.

  Leaning over the balcony, he watched the half-breed mill about the crowd, following her erratic movements as she searched the theatre for Aya. Nye was shadowing her every move and the witch was oblivious. He filtered out the music and the noise, feeling out the presence that had become as familiar as his brother Sam's. Zac let his eyes scan the crowd and it wasn't long before his eyes settled on a familiar form. She wasn't wearing a costume, it would have been pointless. Aya was unmistakable. Tristan hovered behind her a ways, like a perverted bodyguard.

  The old Zac, of thirty minutes ago, would have seethed in anger at the sight of them together. Now, he could care less. Now, he would capture and kill.

  That was the moment she looked up and saw him leaning over the edge of the balcony, her blue eyes noticeable even from the third floor. His expression didn't change from the menacing scowl that had become his default, as recognition flooded her features, then confusion as she realized his blood was masked. No, not masked. Silent, gone. He let his gaze flicker to the half breed and back, Aya inclining her head as if she was thanking him. If only she knew. Nye was directly behind her mark, camouflaged by witches magic. Regulus knew that Aya would trust him and that trust would lead her into their trap.

  He wondered how smart she really was.

  When Aya laid eyes on Zac, her heart skipped several beats. He was the last person she expected to see here. She didn't expect to see him for a long time. Casting out her mind, expecting to hear the familiar soothing sound of his blood, she frowned. She couldn't hear anything. His eyes flickered to her right and she inclined her head, acknowledging his gesture.

  Letting her gaze wander the direction he'd indicated, she noticed the woman staring at her. So, this was the half-breed Joseph had sent them to meet. The insider.

  Forcing Zac from her thoughts, she strode towards the woman and grasped her arm. Leading her off to a dark corner, Tristan trailed them, his eyes scanning the people around them.

  "I'm Coraline," the half-breed said.

  "Start talking," Aya hissed, not caring for her introduction. "I want answers. All of them." The half-breed shrunk back against the wall and she sighed at her sudden fearfulness. "I'm not going to hurt you, Coraline. But understand that I am annoyed. This," she gestured to the party around them, "is a huge risk."

  "I know, but it's the only place that we could come to hide from them."

  Aya didn't really believe her. "You're a part of the Coven."

  "Yes."

  "What does that mean?"

  "The Coven, my family, is very old. Our history tells that we were born out of the remnants of war. Our mother was branded the Betrayer of her people and our father was the Tyrant King. The story is so old, many believe it now to be a myth."

  "Human witches have only existed in the last two thousand years."

  "No, they haven't," Coraline said firmly. "That is the Coven's claim."

  "You also claim to be something more," Aya said, forcing her to explain further.

  "We are. That I know for sure. We are like you."

  Aya's eyes widened. Like her? Celestine… It wasn't possible. But, it would explain the potency of Zac's blood, why it reinvigorated her power, why it sung to her like starlight. Victoria had Celestine blood. But how? It had something to do with the ones Coraline had called the Betrayer and the Tyrant King.

  "Victoria was one of us until Regulus took her," Coraline continued. "A far distant cousin, but of the blood. We knew she was looking for you and hoped that with her death something good would come of it."

  "Well, for you at least," Aya scowled.

  "You have a stake in this, Hunter. They are witches first and foremost and they have become a greater threat than we had imagined. Even in the way they treat their own. Those without the blood are cast out. If they dare to return then they are killed on sight."

  "You speak of them as if they were not your kin."

  "Blood links us, but that's all. I don't want any part in anything they have their hand in. Insanity, greed and power drive them and it will destroy everything."

  "Lovely," Aya sighed.

  "Far from i
t," Coraline said. "They need to be stopped. The centuries of trying to keep bloodlines pure have only served to drive them insane."

  "Inbreds," Tristan interrupted, shaking his head. "Genetics at it's finest."

  Aya elbowed him sharply, turning her annoyed glare back onto Coraline. "What are they looking for?"

  "I don't know," she shook her head. "Only the inner circle knows. And I'm not inner circle."

  "Then we need to get inside and find out."

  "You want to infiltrate the Coven yourself?" Tristan asked, surprised.

  "Why are you so shocked, Tristan?" she hissed at him. "Of course I do. Apparently this is a lot closer to home than we first thought. Coraline has implied that we share the same blood. If that is true, then I have to see it for myself. I have to talk to this inner circle."

  "You're goin' to expose yourself to them? Arrow, no. That'd be suicide."

  She regarded the horrified look on the knights face. Perhaps he was right, but there was no known way for her to truly die. If they managed to kill her, she would wake up.

  "If you really want to go, I can get you in," Coraline said, eyeing the knight.

  "How?"

  "You must be one of the blood to enter their sanctuary."

  "If I am like you," Aya narrowed her eyes, "then I don't need you to get inside."

  Coraline nodded, "Technically, no."

  "Where is their sanctuary?"

  "In Bloomsbury there is an abandoned tube station near the museum. They use the abandoned tunnels, but the whole place is warded against outsiders. There's no chance of getting in unless I'm with you. I can guide you through safely."

  Aya regarded this for a moment. "How can I contact you?"

  Coraline dipped her hand into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a card, pressing it into her hand. "When you are ready, you can contact me here." The witch backed away, melting into the sea of people. It seemed the meeting was over. Looking at the piece of paper in her hand, all it contained was a number. Aya assumed it was to a cell phone and memorized it. Sighing, she ran a hand over her face, unsettled at the tension that had begun to build inside of her.