The Lost: Book Two of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 10

Without flinching at the utter repulsion evident in both their faces, Lucius held out his hands to Garrick and Harper. Everything seemed to stop for a moment, frozen in some lost pocket of time as they contemplated the boy's offer. With one touch, they could find out everything they wanted to know. But they had to cross the line to do it and when that line took them into a realm even they feared, suddenly their desire for knowledge was teetering, wavering and ready to plummet.

Gritting his teeth, it was Garrick who reached out first, steeling himself for what was to come. Harper looked anguished as he plunged his hands into his hair before slowly, reluctantly reaching out one tattooed hand. Lucius, his face as impassively innocent as ever, curled his fingers into their palms and together they fell, these two powerful, dangerous vampires falling to their knees. And I fell with them, finally crumbling to the floor because I knew they were seeing everything that I had seen.

A baby's cry in the unfathomable darkness. A great crushing presence. Pain, immense pain as the wings are ripped from the baby's back. There's no love there, just purpose. Born to endlessly tread a dark path. Born to light the way for others, but never for herself. The child concealed in a new world, granted a new life and for a time, she forgets. But even though she cannot hear them, the agonised cries of the dead never stop. Constantly pleading, screaming. Endless, endless screaming. Only now she has awoken, she remembers, she sees. And they know. They all know.

With a cry, Garrick was the first to wrench his hand from Lucius' grasp and he fell forward, hunched over on all fours, his Mohawk loosened free and falling over his face. He was breathing hard, almost wheezing as if he had run a great distance.

Eyes wide, Harper clutched the edge of the desk with his free hand, bent double and gasping and it was Lucius who released him from the dark bind. When he did, Harper remained where he was as if letting go of the desk would see him plummeting into some great abyss.

I pulled my knees up into my chest and hugged my legs tight, shivering even though I wasn't cold. My back throbbed painfully, the impact of falling down the bookcase or maybe a remnant of what was torn from my skin before I was barely aware of my existence. I wasn't there and then blink, I was. It had really been as simple as that. Some people just are.

"Who are you?" Garrick croaked out a dry, pained whisper.

"She is Michael," Lucius replied for me as he walked over and sat down cross-legged by my side. He put a hand on my knee but did not touch my hand, knowing that was the catalyst. "She is the way."

Garrick shook his head vehemently, glaring wildly at me through his tumbling dark locks.  "No. No. It's not possible."

"But you saw. I showed you."

The vampire rose up on his knees and slumped back on his haunches, his chest deflated, his whole body displaying the exhaustion he now felt from the vision. I knew he felt it, because I did too and had done since Lucius had shown me. It was exhausting and unbelievable and yet horribly, horribly true.

"But she just can't be."

"You believe what I am but you won't believe what Megan is?"

Garrick's face twisted with confusion and anger. "But she is a vampire! She is one of us. How the hell can she be what you say she is when she is little more than a demon? We kill. We do not save. That's not our way, Lucius."

"He saved her." Lucius directed his steady gaze over to Harper, who shrank back as if accused of some heinous crime.

"I turned her, it's not the same thing," he said, frowning.