The Downfall of Count Abbot

Step Four | Find His Other Victims

To his immediate right, where Bronson had gone, were the Generals and some Adherents, as well as Master Percival, who was rarely seen mingling with the rest of the coven. He was Abbot's best friend, and it was likely that the only reason he was in the ballroom and not up in the penthouse tower drinking expensive wines with the Count was because he had been sent to make sure that Lawrence didn't cause any more trouble—Bronson had obviously told Abbot what he did to that human; it was his job to ensure the coven's smooth running, and someone murdering a human would have been considered a crime...if there were witnesses. But since there weren't, Abbot had probably already had Master Eddy make up some story involving the wolves.

Everyone else taking up space in the ballroom were either Acolytes—vampires younger than a hundred years—or some of the younger Adherents. Lawrence felt like he'd get along with them since he already knew as much as they did, but the Fledgelings were the ones he needed to talk to. So he made his way through the crowd; some of the vampires greeted him, and he responded with the best smile he could pull.

Some of the Fledgelings glanced up at him as he reached them, and they all looked miserable. Of course they did. They were all in the same boat as him...but they were heading in a different direction, and Lawrence had already jumped ship. While they moped and wallowed, he planned his revenge, starting with getting to know everything he could about Abbot and his authority.

"General Bronson said there was another joining us," one of the black-haired Fledgelings said quietly, his voice a mere whisper. His crimson eyes were filled with heartbreak, his dark skin had blood stains on it like he fed and didn't clean after, and he looked like he was clinging on to his immortal existence by a thread.

"Yeah. Lawrence," he replied. "You?"

"Mark," the man who first addressed him answered.

Lawrence looked at the guy next to him; his hair was almost grey, and his dark skin really brought out the red in his eyes. "And you?"

"Austin."

"Daniel," the blonde man beside him said. "And that's Frederick," he said, nodding at the patchy-haired Fledgeling sitting on his own in the only armchair. "He doesn't really talk much."

The other blonde-haired man nodded at Lawrence. "Brent."

"Harrold," the last man said, his long hair a dirty blonde colour.

Abbot clearly preferred blondes.

Lawrence sat on the end of one of the couches.

"How was your transformation?" Mark asked.

"Fine," Lawrence muttered.

"General Carol is teaching us in about thirty minutes. Are you joining us?" Daniel questioned.

Lawrence knew that he should participate in any lessons that he could, but he could do that later. He'd finished his transformation, so his bloodlust wouldn't be so intense, and whenever it struck, he could easily get a hold of blood from storage. No, right now, he had to focus all his time and energy on destroying Abbot.

He shook his head in response. "Nah, not tonight." He rested his arms on his knees and glanced around at them all. "So, Count Abbot fucked you all over, huh?"

The same gloomy, depressed glower struck all their faces.

"What did he tell you? That once he turned you, you'd spend forever together?" he continued.

"He lied," Brent murmured sadly, his voice breaking.

"Did any of you ever confront him?" Lawrence asked.