The Downfall of Count Abbot

Step Six | Learn About His Duty As Coven Leader

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As sunrise approached, Lawrence followed the other Fledgelings through the castle. In a dark, dusty corridor lined with ebony doors on either side, his new room sat at the very end on the left. He went inside, closing the door behind him, and glanced around at where he'd be staying until he was old enough to become an Acolyte—from what he'd seen, though, the Acolytes' rooms weren't much better.

In the right corner was his bed, upon which waited a folded sheet, blanket, and a pillow. The only window, arched and on the back wall between his bed and a dresser, had wooden shutters locked tightly; no light poured in from outside. Several old lanterns hung on the walls—it was almost like this place hadn't been updated in centuries. But his sharp eyes quickly located a switch, and when he flicked it, the lanterns lit up. For a moment, he thought he'd have to find a lighter or something.

He slumped down on his bed and glanced around. There was an outlet behind the nightstand, so at least he'd be able to charge his phone. However, there wasn't a TV or a stereo, and he wondered what the fuck he was supposed to do while hiding away from the sunlight. He knew that the higher-ranking vampires had TVs and shit in their room, so why didn't he? Was he supposed to buy it himself? Probably. He had his things at his apartment; he could go and get them when night fell again.

Lawrence sighed deeply and shuffled back so that he could lean against the wall. He had a lot of thinking to do—a lot of plotting. He wanted Abbot to experience the same feeling of betrayal that he felt...or at least something close enough, and he had a pretty good idea of how to do that. Lawrence knew that the Count trusted Master Percival with his life; he was Abbot's best friend, and he was the perfect target. But he had to be smart and careful. If he said the wrong thing or made the wrong move, Percival could and would very well tear his head off.

He learnt a lot about the coven when he was with Abbot, though, and he knew exactly what Percival liked; he knew exactly what he was into.

Someone knocked on his door.

Lawrence looked over there and called, "Yeah?"

When it opened, General Bronson came in. "Are you settling in okay?" he asked.

With a nod, Lawrence took his phone from his pocket and put it on his nightstand. "It's not the worst room I've seen."

Bronson looked a little hesitant...again. He closed the door behind him and sighed deeply as he moved towards the bed. "Lawrence...look," he said, stopping a few feet from the bed. "You killed a human, and once that Count Abbot had a personal interest in. But as it currently stands, only you, me, and my team know what really happened out there."

Lawrence frowned. "What really happened?" he questioned.

"In my report, I told Count Abbot that the human crashed his car into a deer, and my team and I altered the scene to match my story."

His frown thickened. "What? Why?" he asked confusedly.

"Because Count Abbot would likely kill you if he found out what really happened, and he might be my superior, but I don't want that to happen, nor do I believe that it's what you deserve. Just...stay quiet about it, okay?"

Lawrence was admittedly shocked. Why was Bronson risking himself like that for him? He knew that quite a few of Abbot's subordinates didn't exactly love him, but did they despise him so much that they'd lie about one of his Fledgelings killing a human and breaking one of the treaty laws?

"Lawrence?" Bronson muttered.

He shook his head and looked up at him. "Yeah, no, don't worry. Thank you."