Chapter Twenty-Four (Adam)
I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.
It felt like a heavy rock weighing me down as I sat in the living room, staring at the television screen, but not quite seeing anything. I hadn't even taken a drink of coffee. It was probably cold by now. I glanced at the clock to see that it was six in the morning. I'd been up all night, I realized miserably, reaching up to rub at my eye. They both felt like they were sinking into my skull and I had a headache in my forehead.
I got up off the sofa and went to the kitchen, putting the cup of coffee in the microwave to heat it up. I leaned on the counter, pinching the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. As soon as I closed them, I could see Julian lying in his hospital bed, pale and weak. I opened my eyes quickly, giving my head a shake to get rid of the image.
But it still made my heart heavy.
I hated seeing Julian like that. He shouldn't look like that. He should be up and about, making snarky comments and picking fights and getting all excited about how well we played last night. I remembered glancing at him every so often throughout the dance and he was so excited. He was smiling the entire time, fingers flying over the keys on his keyboard like, together, they were one being.
He seemed perfectly fine and then he left to use the bathroom. He wasn't more than just a few feet away. How could I have been so stupid? I should've gone with him. I should've known. Why didn't I go with him? Because I was already pumped about the dance and eager to get back to playing with the guys. Because I was listening to the sounds of people cheering and chattering about us. Because I figured an innocent trip to the bathroom wouldn't do anything. Because I was stupid.
The sound of the microwave beeping made me jump, and I mentally cursed myself, reaching in and taking the mug out.
"You shouldn't drink so much coffee if you're that high strung." I blinked and looked up to see Newell coming into the kitchen. He looked exhausted too, his dark hair a mess from rolling around in bed, his long sleeved shirt that was obviously too big for him slid off his shoulder, his pajama pants dragging across the tiled floor as he made his way to the fridge.
"I'm the type of guy who needs is caffiene before going into public." I responded dryly, then brought the mug to my mouth, taking a deep gulp of rich, bitter coffee. Newell cast me a sideways glance, then opened the fridge casually, taking out a small bag filled with dark red blood.
"You didn't sleep last night, did you?" He asked, bringing the bag to his mouth and biting down. He didn't seem to see a reason for pouring it into a cup like the rest of the family. He just liked drinking straight from the bag.
"My boyfriend's in the hospital. I'm not sleeping until he's back where he belongs." I answered, taking another deep gulp of coffee. I sighed, leaning against the counter, letting the coffee warm me up. Newell climbed up onto a stool, then used it to sit on the edge of the new island counter that replaced the old one that Julian destroyed with his telekinetic abilities.
"I'm sure he's fine," Newell replied, licking blood from his lips, "It's actually not shocking that this would happen during the first time he's bitten. Most of us experience at a younger age. Of course, I'm sure you're referring to the fact that Zephyra sent someone to do this to him."
"But why," I demanded in irritation, "Why would they randomly send someone out to bite him? It doesn't make any sense. What do they gain by doing this?" Newell licked the leftover blood off the bag before pausing, frowning slowly.
"To be honest? I'm not sure. Maybe to land him in the hospital to traumatize him."
"But why? What if they wanted him to go to the hospital?"
"Well, they're in for a surprise," Newell drawled, "Vladimir left Kristophe and Claude there as well as Tyrin, Lysander, and Hunter. They would need someone very powerful to get through them."
"Like who? A mermaid?" I asked. Newell shook his head.
"There are other creatures aside from mermaids that are powerful. Think of it as a food pyramid. Several species per category. And while most humans think vampires are the ultimate power, we really aren't. We're the second to last layer. There's two layers above us. Admittedly, Xed's species is part of the top layer, but he's also joined by several other species." He explained matter-of-factly. I frowned at that.
"And those species would be...?" I asked. Newell raised an eyebrow, then averted his eyes, frowning.
"Well, mermaids for one. Reapers. Werewolves. Shapeshifters. And undead sorcerers called liches. There's probably more species, but not all of them have been uncovered. Each culture has its own unique take on different beings, its own list of supposedly mythological creatures." He answered, then hopped off the counter top and went to the fridge for another bag of blood as I let the information sink in.
So werewolves were real too, huh? Talk about creepy. It made me wonder how many would be in Michigan. Then again, since they legalized the killing of gray wolves, I had a feeling any in the state would be taking off to avoid being mistaken for an actual wolf.
Reapers? What, did he mean like the grim reaper? No, it was plural. More than one. Well, that was comforting to know.
Wait.
"Did you say shapeshifter?" I demanded, setting my coffee down and turning to face him. Newell blinked, then looked at me for a second, like he couldn't figure out what I meant at first before his eyes widened. He didn't have a chance to say anything because someone started pounding on the front door.
Newell and I shared quick looks before heading to the door. Newell held his hand out for me to wait once we reached the foyer. I stood in the opening of the hallway, waiting on pins and needles as Newell carefully approached the door. He pressed his ear to the door for a moment, then carefully opened it up just in time to let Lysander stumble in.
My eyes widened at the sight of him. Blood poured from his mouth down his chin. His shirt and pants were soaked in it and he looked incredibly pale. There were bullet holes in his torso and a slash wound right down the center of it. Behind him came Claude carrying Kristophe, both of them bloodied and wounded.
My stomach hit the floor.
"What happened?" Newell demanded angrily, shutting the door behind him. Claude threw him a nasty look as he leaned against a wall to help support his weight and Kristophe's.
"The fucking Jap happened. Him and his stupid little lap dog." He snarled, then paused to cough harshly, blood oozing down his chin. Newell's face paled and I felt the blood drain from mine as I stared at them.
"Julian. Where's Julian?" I demanded. Claude said nothing, just stared at me for the longest time before looking away with a grimace. Lysander looked down at his feet, his hand covering his mouth to stop the blood flow. Fear made a straight shot up my spine, making me suck in a shuddering breath.
They had Julian.
Ikuto had Julian. And I was willing to bet that Ikuto wasn't on our side in this battle if he had to kidnap Julian from the hospital.
"I was right," I blurted angrily, whirling on Newell, who stiffened, "I knew they did it for a reason! They did it to land Julian in the hospital where there was more space to fight and less people to worry about. And Ikuto used Declan Calhoun to bring them all down."
"How was I supposed to know," Newell demanded angrily, "I wasn't even there! But it doesn't matter because arguing won't help us find Julian. Where's Hunter?" Lysander spit some blood into his palm before speaking, his voice wet.
"Hotwired a car in the parking lot. He thinks they're heading to Detroit. Dunno how. Didn't say much. Just jumped in the car and was gone." He managed hoarsely before slipping down onto his knees, leaning against the wall at Claude's feet. Newell cursed.
"We're leaving in half an hour. Grab your things," He paused, then turned to me, eyes narrowed, "And as much as I hate to say it, you're coming with. Because I know for a fact that once we're gone, you'll probably steal someone's money and take a bus or hotwire a car yourself."
"Newt--"
"Shut up," Newell snapped at Lysander, who glared at him, "We have no choice. It's better if he's with us where he's protected than on his own and vulnerable. Now go to the fridge. There's plenty of blood there that should help you heal quickly. I'm going to get the others up." He left the foyer and went to the bedrooms. I looked away from him, feeling my heart pounding in my chest.
Julian was gone.
He was in Detroit? Why Detroit?
Whatever, it didn't matter. What mattered now was getting Julian back home where he belonged.
I went right to Julian's room and changed out of my clothes, throwing on a pair of black jeans, a black v-neck, and my leather jacket. I jerked my boots on, lacing them up before I left the room in time to almost smack into Xed. He gave me an apologetic look and I just nodded before we went to the kitchen where everyone seemed to be gathering.
Julian's father was in there feeding the injured heavy amounts of blood while Mrs. Grey worked on their injuries with trembling hands, her eyes bloodshot as she fought the urge to cry. The smell of blood was thick and bitter, burning my nostrils as I leaned on one of the counters.
Alexander, Amber, Mary-Kay, and Vladimir all came into the kitchen last, so everyone was there, grim faced. It reminded me of the movies when people were preparing for some kind of war.
"Okay," Newell said aloud, sitting on the counter top so we could all hear him better, "According to Hunter, he thinks Julian's in Detroit. Knowing him, this is the truth. We need to grab everything we can and get out there and soon as possible. Unfortunately, I have no idea what part of Detroit, which is why I need to call Hunter right now. Someone give me their cell phones. He should answer if his caller ID reads one of your names." Vladimir handed his cell phone over instantly and Newell snatched it, dialing numbers quickly before putting it on speaker.
It was like everyone in the kitchen held their breathes as the phone rang three times, slowly and eerily before someone picked up, breathing hard.
"Detroit," Hunter's voice came through, the audio crackling and breaking off, "It's Detroit, Newt. The Mariott. Ren Cen." Before anyone could get a word out, the line went dead. Newell cursed and tossed the phone at Vladimir.
"The Ren Cen is about an hour away. We need to get there. Now. And once we do, don't just run in guns blazing or we'll all be killed and Julian along with us. We need to wait outside, rendezvous at the Mariner's Church, which is right beside the Mariott." He ordered, hopping off the counter.
"Amber," Mrs. Grey said, turning to Amber, who jumped at the sound of her name, "You and Mary-Kay need to stay here."
"That's my little brother," Amber exclaimed angrily, "He needs my help!"
"I've already lost one child," Mrs. Grey shouted, making everyone go still as she glared at Amber, "I am not about to lose another! Do what I say, Amber Marie!" Without another word, Mrs. Grey was heading out the front door. Amber glared after her furiously, fists clenched. Vladimir paused beside her.
"It'll be all right," He told her gently, making her frown at him, "We'll get him back and be here in time to have cake and ice cream." Amber blinked, her eyes widening for a second before she stared at him tearfully. I knew she wanted to keep arguing, to do something, anything to help, but she couldn't. She just stood there in silence as Mary-Kay came over to hug her gently. The rest of us piled out of the house quickly.
I got in the car with Mr. and Mrs. Grey, Newell, and Xed. Vladimir and Alexander got in their car, and everyone else road with Lysander in his van. We pulled out of the driveway screeching before shooting down the road. I grimaced, gripping the arm rests of my seat.
"Sweetheart," Mr. Grey warned, "Don't be reckless. We can't do anything to help him if we get in a car accident. Drive slower. The roads are still icy." Mrs. Grey looked murderous, but she didn't argue and slowed the car down to a degree. We got onto the highway where Vladimir took up position in front of us and Lysander behind us. The entire time, my heart was still pounding in my ears.
This felt like it wasn't really happening. Like some kind of nightmare.
I tried to process everything in the past twenty-four hours, but I couldn't focus on it. All I could think about was Julian.
Was he okay? Was he hurt? How could Ikuto and Declan Calhoun defeat all those guys by themselves? If we had to put anyone up against Declan Calhoun, it had to be Xed. They were on the same level and we needed to get rid of Declan Calhoun if we were going to get to Julian.
"Xed," I said aloud, making him look at me, "You can take on Declan Calhoun, right? You're both on the same level, and there's no way we're gonna be able to reach Julian with Declan Calhoun in our way." Xed looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. Newell snorted.
"Of course he can," He answered, making Xed look at Newell in mild surprise, "Xed has taken down plenty of creatures in the couple decades. I have no doubt that he could kill a simple shapeshifter, especially one that's so young and disoriented. Declan Calhoun has a split personality, making him weak when he's switching between them. In the split second it takes to switch, it's a split second to take him down."
"Good," I answered, "Then at least we have that figured out. What about Kristophe, Claude, and Lysander? They're still in bad shape and won't be able to do any hardcore fighting."
"Don't be so sure," Mr. Grey said, making us look at him, "My brother is quite the dancer. He danced a full show with a knife in his back."
"What? Why, and how?" Newell demanded dryly. Mr. Grey shrugged, averting his eyes.
"My brother is an excellent dancer, but not a good socializer. He made one of the competitors angry."
"Why didn't he take it out?"
"He was showing off. What I'm getting at is that he's psychotic about 98.9 percent of the time, so there's no need to worry about him. I'm not so sure about Kristophe to be honest. Claude? I can easily see him doing whatever he can to get revenge on Zephyra for hurting his brother. Their relationship is actually quite famous to our society. The twins that fell in love and would die for each other."
"Then we can only hope the ride will give them time to recover," Newell muttered bitterly, running a hand through his hair before slumping in his seat, "Then there's us. Physically, I'm not exactly the most useful, however... I may be able to do something if I can get in the right place. But don't bother about me if something happens to me. Even if I'm pinned to the floor and bleeding, go for Julian. Grab him and run as fast as you can without looking back." Xed frowned at that and made a sound of protest from within his throat, a deep rumbling sound that made Newell snap his head to glare at Xed.
"Julian's far more important than me, Xed. You'll do as I say and protect Julian, is that understood?" He snapped. Xed said nothing, just stared back at Newell for the longest time before looking away. I frowned, then looked up to see that in the distance, we were nearing Detroit. The lights glowing in the distance.
We were close.
So close.
So close to Julian.
So close to saving him.
I wasn't going to let anything happen to him, I swear it. I wasn't going to let him die.
"Adam," Newell's voice cut through my head, making me frown and turn to him as he pulled something out of his fluffy jacket pocket, my eyes flickering at the sight of the gun with a silencer hooked to it, "As much as I value my life, I know Julian values yours much more. And even though I don't particularly like the Grey family considering they assisted in the destruction of my entire life... I just happen to like you and I would prefer it if you didn't die."
"Thanks. I think." I added, frowning as I took the gun, studying it before tucking it into the inside of my jacket pocket.
"Don't just shoot wildly either," Newell added sternly, "Choose your targets wisely. This isn't a video game. This is reality. If you get hurt, you go down. If you go down, there's no telling who will be around to help you, so assume that once you hit the ground, you're dead."
"Got it."
"And don't lose that gun. Whatever you do, do not lose that gun."
"And why not?"
"Because it isn't just a regular gun."
"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning curiously. Newell stared at me for a moment before Mr. Grey's eyes widened and he turned to stare at Newell.
"You didn't." He stated. Newell passed him an innocent look.
"I'm only borrowing it. I'll return it to your family's museum after I'm done destroying Zephyra and getting my life back, provided we make it out of this situation alive. In which case, you can have it back after I die." He answered. Mr. Grey glared, but he didn't say anything else as he just sat back in his seat. I looked at Newell, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
"It's a very old gun," Newell replied, "Well, taken apart and restored with a few modern conveniences. But it's purpose is still the same."
"And that is?"
"All you need to know is that if you shoot someone with it, they will die instantly. No recovery time, no seconds of gurgling blood and final words. Once you shoot someone with this. They are dead. Forever."
"That's creepy."
"Why do you think it's one of my most prized possessions?"
"Don't you mean mine?" Mr. Grey asked dryly. Newell shrugged.
"You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to," He replied, making Mr. Grey scowl, before Newell looked back at me, "It's been in the Grey family for generations upon generations. It's powerful and it's dangerous. And there's only seven bullets in it, so use them wisely. If you think you can take someone down with smarts and your fists, do it. If you happen to run into someone like Giorgos or Orion, shoot them and run."
With that, the car ride went silent as we neared the city. The entire time, my heart was beating in my throat as I reached into my jacket, running my fingers over the sleek barrel of the gun.
We're coming, Julian.
Hold on.