The Shadow's Son (The Witch Hunter Saga) Read online

"I have to go. This was wrong."

  "Aya, please," he whispered, caressing a hand down her face. "I need you. You are my life."

  "That's the problem," she whispered.

  Zac's eyes widened in disbelief. "You can't mean that."

  "It was an empty dream, Zac. Deep down you knew that one day I would have to leave."

  He snorted, looking away. "Then perhaps I wasn't deep enough."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to turn out this way."

  "I bet you didn't."

  "I didn't want to get too attached," she said quietly. "That's why..."

  He snorted and threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Get me attached enough to do your dirty work, but not so attached that you couldn't leave afterwards. Am I meant to be grateful for that?"

  She didn't respond, only staring at him with those icy blue eyes of hers. He couldn't understand the look that was plastered on her face. The look that said her heart was breaking. How could she have the audacity to hurt when she was telling him she had used and betrayed him?

  "I get it, Aya. You used me. You used us." His glare cut right through her. "Two Romans and a founding witch. I bet you couldn't believe your luck."

  "Zac, it wasn't like that," Aya pleaded.

  "It was exactly like that." He turned away from her and stalked back towards the house, his expression complete darkness.

  "Zac..." she began.

  Abruptly swinging back to face her he snarled, "What are you still doing here? Your welcome expired thirty seconds ago."

  She took several steps back, but he didn't stay to watch her go. The front door slammed closed behind him and it was a miracle the door jam didn't splinter with the impact. As he stormed past the parlor, Sam came out into the hallway and went to place a hand on his shoulder.

  "I don't want to hear it, Sam," his voice was tight with his restrained anger and hurt as he dodged his brother's hand. He knew that Sam had heard everything.

  "I wasn't going to say anything," his little brother frowned.

  Stopping, he swung around sneering, "Perhaps I should be the one who's saying, I told you so."

  "Zac..."

  He raised his hand to stop him from continuing and grimaced. "Don't. Just don't."

  She'd left him again, but this time it was of her own choice. He could just let go. Let his humanity go and forgo all of this pain and all that he would no doubt feel for a long time. But then he would be surrendering to the monster he was so desperately trying to escape. There was a catch twenty-two if ever he saw one.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed sharply and made a beeline for the liquor cabinet. Sometimes his dependency on alcohol even worried him. Right now, he needed it to avoid going off and taking his anger out on something or someone.

  "Gabby called," Sam said, watching Zac carefully as he rattled through the mostly empty bottles.

  "And?"

  "She compelled Liz and Alex to forget everything about her past," Sam said, "before she came here."

  "And Gabby?"

  "I doubt she could compel Gabby now, even if she wanted to."

  "Yeah, well, doesn't matter much. We're still bound by the curse. If it even exists," Zac rolled his eyes. Like he cared, anyway. Let the hellfire consume him.

  "What could we do with it anyway? This Regulus would want retribution on us regardless. We were accessories to his brothers’ murders and the witch who made him..."

  Zac grunted, "So, at least we're number two on the most wanted list? Is that meant to be reassuring? Cos, I could care less."

  "Zac," Sam said sharply. It didn't take much for the asshole to come back to the surface, did it?

  "Sam," he echoed, looking back over his shoulder. "I know that look and I don't like it."

  Sam clamped his mouth shut, but Zac could tell he wanted to tell him off. When did the roles reverse? When did his little brother turn into his parent? Almost a hundred and fifty years ago, a small voice whispered to him.

  "Aren't you pissed that she used you?" he asked. "Aren't you pissed she compelled your girlfriend?"

  "Stop it, Zac."

  "I have to get out of here," he said suddenly, grabbing a bottle of scotch from the back of the cabinet.

  "Don't," Sam frowned.

  "Don't worry, Samuel," he said, picking up on his brother's fear. "I'm coming back."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Zac stepped through the front door of the manor and began walking, the bottle of scotch clutched in his hand.

  Perhaps he needed to go off on his own for a while. He'd done it before, but those times there had been wars to fight. World War I, World War II, Vietnam. It would be pathetic if he went off sulking because of a woman, even if she was the love of his unhinged immortality. Even as he thought it, he understood that he needed time to wallow before he could think about what to do next.

  He'd been walking for a long time before he realized he was at the cemetery. When he'd come here in the past, it was at a run and when vampire's ran, it didn't take very long at all. At the pace of a regular human walk, it took a hell of a lot longer. Somewhere along the way, night had fallen and it made him feel more alone than ever.

  Coming to a halt before a headstone that read Degaud across the base, he noted the irony of the situation. Death followed him wherever he went. The stone had been dulled by age, the elements and a healthy dose of neglect, the inscription covered in yellow lichen.

  "Mother, Father," he inclined the bottle towards the headstone. "Glad I lived up to your expectations. Still the murderous, selfish bastard you always hoped I'd become."

  Kneeling down, he began to scrape the natural interlopers from the surface, flinging the moss and lichen aside. The etching was simple, he never knew who had made it as he and Sam were meant to be as dead as they were. Their father was an only child, the first Degaud to be born in America after his parents immigrated from France. Their mother, her story was much the same. Both of their families had come to the new world to take advantage of rich new lands. Any family they had left was in France and unknown to them.

  The inscription now free, he read what had been put there in proxy. Louis Henri Degaud 1817-1865 and below was Marie Degaud 1820-1865. That was all.

  "There was no light," he scoffed, perching on the side of the headstone. "But, you'd know that, wouldn't you?"

  In all the time he and Sam wandered, they had never come home. Not until the previous winter. This was the first time he'd seen his parents graves, even though it had been the site of various incidents a few months prior. They'd summoned the Hunter with Gabby's help. Aya. He'd almost died his true death here when they had confronted Katrin, one of the five founding witches. Katrin, the Betrayer. Despite the connections with Aya, it was the perfect place for him among the bones of the dead. After all, he was dead as well.

  Groaning, he ran a hand through his messy hair. Tristan was right. That old, musty, Irish bastard was right. She was manipulative. "Seems she just wanted a recharge before moving on." He rolled his eyes and sighed, talking to himself as much as his dead parents. "And to think I loved her." Loved? More like love. Even he wasn't fooling himself. "A fool in life and death."

  He cast the empty bottle aside and it shattered on a smaller headstone beside his parents. It was another Degaud plot and he read it more out of courtesy than curiosity.

  "Oh, that's just fucking great." He threw his hands in the air, exasperated. It was his own grave.

  Cpt. Z. Degaud

  4th Louisiana Inf.

  Feb 16th 1842

  Apr 6th 1865

  Beloved son and brother

  They'd buried their son in an empty grave. Of course they had. Sam's grave would be around here as well, just as empty. But, this was their curse, wasn't it? To live on while everyone aged and died?

  He lay on top of his grave, the top of his head resting against the headstone, hands on his stomach and feet crossed at the ankles. Millions of tiny little stars twinkled above him through the trees and he wonde
red if this was what it was like being in a grave. What was he, stupid? He wouldn't know, he'd be dead.

  The last time he looked up at the night sky as a human, he had been dying. For most vampires, their human lives began to fade after a hundred years or so, but Zac was sure he'd never forget his. Closing his eyes, he let his mind wander.

  And there he was, lying on that mound of corpses again, his own life choking him to death as it pooled in the back of his throat. He willed himself to die, but nothing happened. His heart still beat in his chest, his lungs still drew in air. He was dead, but his body seemed to refuse the notion. Food did nothing, it was blood that kept him alive now. Ironically, it had been his own blood that was going to kill him first, not the gunshot wound. He would have choked on the one thing that now kept him going.

  His whole life was one long joke.

  When the sound of something rustling in the undergrowth caught his attention, he sat up sharply. He hissed when he made out Gabby walking through the cemetery, picking her way through the headstones to where he sat. She was wearing a black jacket that made her blend into the darkness, but he saw her clear as day.

  "Gabby," he sighed, rolling his eyes. What the hell was she doing out here in the middle of the night?

  "Hey," she said quietly, hovering by his grave. She peered at it for a moment, reading the inscription and frowned.

  "Never sneak up on a vampire," he snapped. "Especially one with a death wish."

  "I knew this was how you would react," she shook her head, sitting beside him. She wasn't worried in the slightest and Zac knew that she could probably bring him to his knees and make him beg for the life he didn't want if she even felt the tiniest bit threatened by him.

  "You spoke with her?" Despite himself, his heart skipped a beat.

  "Right before she came to see you, it seems."

  "Whatever." He wished he still had some scotch left.

  "I told her it would be a bad idea."

  "Obviously." He didn't want to know what she said to her. It would only serve to infuriate him further. "What do you want?"

  "To see if you're okay."

  "Well, I'm not. So, why do you care all of a sudden? It's not like we're besties, Tabitha."

  She let out a laugh. "It's nice to hear you call me that again. It's been a while."

  "It's also been a while since I was an ass, but things change."

  "That they do," she shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I'm more a fan of Glinda. I always liked the Wizard of OZ better than Bewitched."

  Zac snorted. "Then what are you doing out here, Glinda?" The good witch reference didn't pass unnoticed.

  "I was trying to get back into the swing of things. You know it's better at night with the stars and all. Especially for me."

  "Fuck the stars," Zac hissed, falling back onto the grave again, flinging an arm across his eyes. He didn't want to look at her or the sky.

  He felt the air shift as she lay back beside him. "You're all right, you know that?"

  "Are you feeling okay?" He knew she had probably been watching him from the moment he stumbled into the cemetery.

  "Yes," she laughed, before letting out a long sigh. "Who do you want to be? That's what it's about, isn't it? What it's always been about?"

  "Gabby, don't," he said, a note of warning in his voice.

  "You have to ask yourself the question eventually."

  "I know," he said with a finality meant to dissuade her from continuing.

  He had always had a tentative alliance with Gabby. It was Liz and Sam she was really friends with. They had always fought tooth and nail over everything. Even the day that he had asked, no told, her to help him when he had managed to piss off Katrin, the two thousand year old witch that had it in for him. Everyone else was just guilty by association. Then Aya had come along and shit had hit the fan and splattered over everything.

  Now that he was here with Gabby in the middle of the night, lying on his parents grave… she didn't seem all that bad. He might even like her a little, even though she was a witch. Zac realized he'd let the whole witch vs. vampire thing drop the moment she had been kidnapped by Arturius. He hadn't even realized. He wondered when she had gotten over it.

  He didn't even realize that they'd been lying there in silence for at least ten minutes until Gabby asked, "Did you really love her?"

  Her question stabbed him right through the chest and it felt as sharp and as vividly painful as the bullet that had ended him. "What a stupid question," he hissed.

  "It's not," she said and he felt her gaze on him. "Even vampires can love."

  "I thought so," he whispered, letting his arm fall back to his side. "But, now I'm not so sure." Turning his face towards hers he saw her struggling with what she wanted to tell him. He knew Aya had said something to her about him and he couldn't help it. "What did she say?"

  "I think she's just doing it to protect you."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "It seemed difficult for her." She looked away.

  He snorted, not really believing her. Nothing was ever difficult for Aya. There was no doubt in his mind that she had left with that annoying knight, Tristan. He knew something that he didn't and now he was disposable. She'd recharged her batteries and found a new lead on the last Roman, Regulus. He wasn't needed anymore.

  "Nothing's difficult for her," he said out loud.

  "Nobody's that heartless, not even a vampire."

  That really annoyed him and he struggled to keep his anger in check. "Why are you defending her?"

  "I'm not, I…"

  "I get it, Gabby. Witches and Celestines walk hand in hand. You're all buddy buddy with your secret witches business."

  She sighed, obviously wanting to berate him further, but she remained silent. "Listen, Zac," she said after a minute. "Perhaps this was just the lesser of two evils. Perhaps leaving was the kindest thing she could do."

  "What's done is done, Gabby," he huffed. "No use playing detective. I don't really want to hear it."

  "Give it some time, Zac."

  He jerked his hand away when he felt her warm fingers curl around his. "Time is all I've got."

  "Don't forget the two vampires, a witch and a human, too."

  Damn it. Gabby was right. Why did she always have to be right? He let out a strangled laugh, turning his face away from her. "I never thought I'd hear myself saying this, but I'm glad you were here." A witch and a vampire best friends? At least miracles happened sometimes. And this was a Christmas miracle.

  "Are you in control of your senses?" she joked.

  "Unfortunately."

  "Well, right place, right time, I guess."

  He felt himself stiffen. Someone else had said those words to him when he had been in the same position. Except this was a grave he was lying on and not a ditch he was lying in. Morgan had picked him up and brought him back from insanity. And now she was dead. All because she had tried to help him again. All because she had loved him. Now, Aya had thrown him away and what was love but a way to hurt him and everyone else beyond repair.

  "Gabby?" he whispered.

  "Yeah?"

  "I have a bad feeling that this is it."

  "What do you mean?" Her voice had a note of worry that annoyed him, but he let it slide.

  "That I've been who I was meant to be all along."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Zac was so completely lost, the only place he could find was the bar. For obvious reasons, but it was the only place that didn't exclusively remind him of her. The bar was full of college students, who seemed to be home for fall break. Many of the girls approached him, but he rebuffed them all and after a while they got the hint. He wasn't going to be one of their hormone fueled projects. Not unless the police wanted to find their bloated bodies in the river next week.

  When a vampire sat next to him at the bar, he rolled his eyes. This was a very familiar scene, wasn't it? This was how their trouble had began all those months ago. He bet that whoever it was, wasn't just he
re for the delectable college girls. Glancing out the corner of his eye, he took in the vampire who was staring at him, waiting for a response.

  The man who sat beside him was heavily built, broad shouldered and imposing. His black curly hair was cropped short and his wide set eyes were such a dark brown, they could easily be mistaken as black. As he reached out and took the glass the bartender placed in front of him, he noticed that his forearms were densely muscled, which meant that he was either a soldier or a laborer when he was human, used to bearing heavy loads. On second glance, he had a hard face that couldn't easily be read.

  Zac glared up at the vampire, cocking his head, "And who the fuck are you?"

  The vampire smirked at the cold reception and proclaimed smoothly, "Marcellus Caelius Regulus."

  As Zac's expression changed into one of surprise, Regulus laughed. "I see my reputation has preceded me. But of course you've heard the stories. Aeriaya would have told you much, I presume."

  He sighed loudly and took a large mouthful of scotch, irritated at the Roman's fishing. "She's not here."

  "I know," he said smoothly.

  "Then what the fuck do you want?"

  "I'm looking for Zachary Degaud," he said, prodding him.

  "Well, you've found him. And I'll ask again. What the fuck do you want?"

  "Ahhh, so you're Victoria's pet. I thought as much," he said knowingly, assessing the young vampire. "She had a romantic view of immortality. So much so, she neglected to ponder on the cost. If you follow."

  "I gather you're the asshole that changed her and let her ruin my life," Zac sneered at the founder, not caring if he pissed him off or not.

  Regulus laughed at this and nodded. Well that was just fantastic. There was two degrees of separation from the biggest ass of all time.

  The Roman leant forward in his chair and looked him square in the eye. "She sent me word of you, before her head was ripped off. I hear your bloodlust is somewhat legendary."

  Zac snorted, scowling at the memories his words dragged up to the surface and turned back to his drink.

  "She was quite annoying, you know. Had it in her that she was in love with me," Regulus scoffed. "Absurd, really, since I was using her and all. But you know how women are."