Chapter Fourteen (Vladimir)
The air was cold.
I could feel it through my leather jacket as I picked my way through the chaos that I had created out of free will. Of course I would. I liked making an entrance, and this entrance wasn't just for show. I had given my family a chance to swarm the building and given Alexander the chance to escape.
Now it was up to me.
I felt no pressure. I knew just how I was going to take down Newell. I had assumed he would target Slade because of his abilities, which he did, but he also went after something else. And that was why Newell was going to feel the full wrath of the Court of Seven.
I walked into a long hallway that was in ruins. Bits and pieces of concrete wall had tumbled in one themselves and the ceiling had caved in at some point. I walked around one of the fallen beams and paused, catching sight of one of Newell's subordinates. He was knelt in the ruins of the hallway, cradling a man that looked exactly like him.
Kristophe and Claude Xios. They were cousins to the heirs, who were now dead.
I stepped over another slab of concrete and approached him. Kristophe was bent over his brother, holding him tightly to his chest before jerking his head up. His eyes widened when he saw me, but he didn't move from his spot, just knelt there, holding onto his brother tighter. I narrowed my eyes for a moment, but said nothing as I came up to him so he had to tilt his head back to look up at me.
"Don't... Don't kill him." He managed. I let my expression relax. I had known Kristophe since he'd been born. He and his brother were far closer than brothers should be, but no one hated them for it. It was in our nature to mate with close relatives in order to keep our blood pure. They only forsake the two for joining the rebellion.
I didn't hate them. They had been scared. Of course they would be. I killed their clan in order to step up higher in status. They thought they too would be killed. After all, with their whole clan dead, they were all that was left and surely I would hunt them down and kill them.
And part of me wanted to. They had made their choice and deserved the mercy of death, but for some reason, I could hear Alexander's voice in the back of my head. It made me frown for a second before I stooped down, putting my finger under Kristophe's chin. He clenched his teeth, staring at me intently.
"I will not," I said, watching him blink a few times in relief, "But you will not escape your punishment. You and your brother will wait here until I return. Is that understood?" Kristophe nodded obediently and I smiled lightly before rising to my feet again, heading toward the main hall.
A huge source of energy was waiting inside for me and it made me want to keep smiling, but Newell would suspect something. So I kept my facial expression calm and placid as I stepped through the doorway.
A frown forced itself onto my face at the scene, though. I scanned the main hall, seeing over turned wooden tables while some had been reduced to mere splinters. Dirt and dust hung in the air, beams having fallen from the high, pointed ceiling. At the center near the main post, Nathanial's body lay in a pool of blood, his eyes unseeing. My frown disappeared as I approached his corpse, looking down at it.
I wanted to feel sorry for him. He was just a human that had gotten in way over his head, but my selfishness wouldn't let me. I hated him for touching what belonged to me. However, I wasn't ashamed. It was much easier to close out thoughts and feelings about death after having faced it more than a thousand times.
"I did that for you." I looked up, then turned around calmly, my expression placid as I spotted Newell waiting in the doorway of the hallway.
To anyone else, Newell would appear as nothing, but a little child about eight-years-old. Dressed in cute, childish clothing with big, innocent blue eyes. Newell had always been a quiet person. Even as a child, he had stood around and obediently stood in the spotlight as his parents commanded. He dressed in the clothes they bought him, gone to the parties they forced him to attend, and was the perfect little son.
But that was the problem.
Newell never grew. He remained the innocent, golden face from the time he was eight until now. It was rather sad and I had figured Newell would succeed his parents, but they were ashamed. I remember his parents running to me, pleading for a solution.
And here I was, prepared to kill this childish face that stared at me through uncaring cold blue eyes.
"I don't remember requesting the death of a human." I admitted calmly, standing perfectly still as I faced Newell, who kept his hands in the pockets of his fluffy little winter coat. He blew a lock of black hair out of his face. The signature hair color of the Drakon clan. I was forced to face that every day when Mark came down for breakfast.
I didn't hate Mark. I hated what he represented. The fact that I had been forced to wipe out yet another clan that stood against me.
I didn't focus on that now, however. I had more important things to worry about, like the mass murderer standing in front of me, looking at me with this sweet, innocent little smile that he'd never worn when he was under the control of his parents.
"No," Newell answered coolly, taking a couple steps forward before tilting his head, "But what a relief. Now the competition to Alexander's heart will be so much smoother. Won't it?" I didn't let anything show on my face, despite the irritation that was spreading inside me.
Newell knew about Alexander. I knew the moment he had kidnapped Alexander with Slade and it sent a bolt of anger through me. He knew and yet he was stupid enough to strike me in a tender spot.
And I had done my best to avoid saying the three words that would give everything away. Alexander wanted to hear them, I know he did. I also wanted to hear them. I wanted to tell the truth, spill everything until I was laid completely bare, but it was too dangerous.
Not that it mattered anymore, because Newell knew the truth.
All I did was lift my head slightly to look further down at Newell. The simple gesture obviously irritated Newell because he withdrew his hands from his pockets, his lips as he ran his tongue over his fangs, then closed his mouth again in an irritated smile.
"This whole time you made it seem as if you were seeking out a lover for your son. In truth, you were seeking out the perfect replacement for your sweet Elizabeth. He's nearly the spitting image of your dead wife, isn't he? Blonde hair, blue eyes, kind heart? Hardly part of our species at all." Newell explained.
I kept myself calm still. Although, it was like an arrow pierced through me instantly. Was it too much to ask that people not mention her name? No one understood and there was no point in me trying to explain why Elizabeth had died, and why I refused to speak about her.
But what Newell said was the truth. In the beginning, when I had asked the clans to find a pureblood worthy of taking my son's hand in marriage, I had been searching for something. I didn't know whether it was for Storm or for me.
I knew Storm hadn't wanted to get married. The night before we had left to meet with the Grey Clan outside of Wolf Creek, Storm had come to me in my office. He was wearing the suit I had picked out for him, the wool jacket tugged close around himself. He'd been so young, sixteen, about the age I was when I had married his mother.
"I don't want to get married," Storm had told me in obvious irritation, his blue eyes narrowed as I tugged my jacket on, "It's stupid. I don't have time for stupid things like that. I want to stay here. Do you want to get rid of me or something?"
"No, Storm," I had responded with a heavy sigh, prepared for this seeing as Storm was in that rebellious teenager stage, "I do not want to get rid of you. I'm just searching for something, my son. Just be patient."
"Patient? You're looking for something? Then why don't..." Storm's voice had trailed off and he suddenly looked uncomfortably. I had heard the end of his sentence in my head. Why don't you get married? But we both knew he didn't want that. Storm had been very adamant in denying my orders to be married. My council had insisted on remarrying, but I carried Storm's wishes above theirs.
If my son wanted me to remain single, so be it.
He didn't want anyone to replace the mother he'd never remember.
He didn't want anyone to take up more of my time.
I respected that and I obeyed his orders. But that said nothing about him. And that night when we had met the Grey Clan, my eyes fell on Alexander Lee Grey and I instantly felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I felt assaulted as those blue eyes stared up at me.
The first thing I had sensed was his fear. He was only ten at the time and seeing, feeling, sensing someone as powerful as myself had scared me. It was only natural. To ease his fear, I had touched his hair and again, I felt like someone was tearing me apart from the inside out.
Something about this boy drew me. At first, I had passed it off as the fact that he reminded me so much of Elizabeth. Her hair had been so long and such a pale blonde. She used to wear it up in ponytails, or braiding it with flowers. Her eyes had been such a powerful shade of cobalt. It'd given me chills.
Just like this boy did. Just like Alexander Lee Grey.
But something Alexander was different. While I had been attracted to Elizabeth through her power, her beauty, and her kindness, something else about Alexander drew me in. Sure, he was beautiful. It would be a lie to deny it. And yes, he was powerful. He didn't even know how powerful he was. And he was kind. So kind that at times, I felt irritated by it.
I had killed Nicholas, the object of his affections.
The human he'd been dreaming of for years. The human he was desperate to rescue.
I had killed him. He attacked my son and my instinct led me straight to him, resulting in his beheading.
And yet, after all of it, Alexander didn't hate me.
Why was he so kind? And to me, of all people. I had murdered his lover. I had murdered the parents of his best friend. No, I had murdered the entire family of his best friend. I had killed thousands of people over the years, clawing my way to the top of the vampiric food chain until I stood at the very top.
And yet, he somehow managed to enjoy my teasing. He managed to smile at me.
"You're thinking too hard." Newell's voice cut into my thoughts, making me glance at him.
"You're right," I agreed nonchalantly, "Less thinking, more playing. After all, children like to play, don't they?" Newell's eyes flashed hatefully as he clenched his fists for a moment, then smiled and flattened his palms against his thighs.
"Of course we do. And I've been waiting for someone to buy me a new toy." He added dangerously, taking a step toward me. Something shifted out the corner of my eye, making me glance over to see one of the wooden tables lift off the floor. I smiled lightly, glancing at Newell.
"So that's why it took so long for you to attack us again. You were building up your strength. You knew you would face me soon." I said calmly, but didn't look at the table as it went to smash into me, but all I had to do was think and another table slammed into it, knocking it away. Newell's eye twitched, but he didn't let on that he was irritated other than that.
"Are you kidding me? I've known how to do this." He replied flatly, then tilted his head. My eyes flickered as the ceiling overhead trembled and groaned as if some invisible weight was crushing down on it. I moved backwards sharply, almost disappearing and reappearing back toward the main entrance to avoid the chunks of ceiling that fell on top of where I had been standing. Beams collapsed and cracked under pressure. I glanced past it at Newell, who walked around it to smirk at me.
"Run, run, as fast as you can." He mocked, then narrowed his eyes. I whipped out of the way quickly as another beam slammed into the ground, narrowly missing me. I spun around and ended up on the other side of the mess at the center of the room, walking around onto Newell's side of the room. Newell whipped around, glaring at me.
"You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man." I finished with a smile, then flung my hand out as several large splinters from the busted tables shot up and spun toward Newell. He gritted his teeth and stepped back, bringing his hands up and then down as a beam fell from the ceiling, just barely blocking the shards of wood.
"Very good," I complimented, watching Newell grit his teeth angrily, "You've been practicing, however, you still need to use your hands to command the objects around you. I've long surpassed that method." I smiled politely as a table flung up from behind me and shot past me, making my clothes billow as it slammed at the beam in front of Newell, who stumbled back and fell as the beam shuddered and exploded. Newell covered himself as the splinters went flying.
He rose to his feet, seething before he reached into his jacket. I raised an eyebrow, then began to walk toward him until there was a loud bang. I stopped walking and frowned, standing halfway to Newell, who was holding a gun toward me, glaring hatefully.
I looked down at my chest, a bullet hole leaking droplets of blood, staining the white shirt under my tuxedo jacket. I frowned, reaching up to give the shirt a pull before glancing up, cocking a brow.
"That was my favorite shirt, mind you. Little children should behave themselves. I think it's about time I put you in time out." I decided, lowering my arm as I shrugged my jacket off and dropped it to the floor. The bullet wound stung, but I had received far worse. I ignored it as it began to slowly heal and I only had to think as a couple more tables lifted, aiming at Newell.
Newell gritted his teeth and stepped back before firing a couple more times. The bullets grazed my upper left bicep and plunged into my side, drawing more blood, but my abilities rushed to heal it. Newell dropped the gun and flicked his fingers, making the walls around us crackle and shudder, preparing to collapse on top of me, but I just smirked as I used my own abilities to keep the walls in check.
Newell winced, tensing his fingers toward the walls. I just pushed harder and he crumpled to his knees, breathing hard.
"It takes more than a year to polish these abilities, Newell... I've only gotten this good because I'm much, much older than you are." I commented, coming toward him. I pressed harder, mildly impressed by the fact that Newell was still holding out. I paused, smiling as blood began to trickle from his nose, over his lips.
"You're pushing yourself too hard. Let go of it." I told him gently. Newell spit blood at me, seething hatefully as he bared his fangs.
"Fuck you!" He shouted, then gasped in pain as the bones in his arms cracked. I raised an eyebrow, then smiled calmly at him, approaching him as his arms trembled, threatening to give out.
"Let go, Newell. It's over. You've lost. Your army is gone or dead. You're not even standing anymore." I added gently. Blood gushed down Newell's face from his nose and from the corners of his lips, his arms quivering like Jell-O against my power. I added just a bit more pressure and something in Newell's arm cracked.
He screamed and dropped one arm. The walls to the left crackled and shuddered, but I used some of my power to keep it standing. Newell's busted arm fell to his side, a couple of his fingers broken and bent at strange angles.
"One more arm left, Newell." I warned.
"No," Newell sneered, spitting blood at my feet, "Fuck you. Fuck all of you. Walking around with your heads held high, as if you were something special. Fuck you. You're a leech. You're a disgusting excuse for a descendent. You think you're so different, so righteous, but you're no different from me."
He stopped to laugh, making my smile fade as my expression became calm. He was becoming frustrated and the pain was too much. Newell was probably already in pain to begin with. The pain was only becoming worse, enough to make him hysteria. That and the paranoia of losing.
"You're just like me! You killed your own parents too! You killed your siblings! Ungh! Ah, you killed everyone that was part of the Court of Seven! Haah! Ah! You killed them all, because you're just like me! You want power! You love power! You've been smiling this whole time because I love the feeling! The goose bumps, the adrenaline! Everything about it! You love controlling people! You love not having to worry about anyone else! You kill because you want the ultimate title of King! Aghh! You! Vladimir, King of the Druids? Don't... make... me... laugh!"
The ceiling above trembled and shuddered, making me snap my head up. I narrowed my eyes at the ceiling that began to fall inside before I sent a blast of power upwards, making the ceiling explode outwards, creating a giant gaping hole in the ceiling.
I looked down, narrowing my eyes, applying a final amount of pressure to Newell's right side.
Crack! Snap!
Newell choked and his right arm dropped limply to his side as he slumped further down on his knees before his eyes widened. He gritted his teeth, then screamed, his fangs dripping with blood and saliva. The floor began to shake and groan, preparing to give way. I frowned and gritted my teeth, sending a layer of energy to support the floor.
I looked at Newell, who was finishing his scream, blood dripping from his tearducts.
"You're killing yourself." I commented calmly, despite the thoughts that were thrashing around in my brain.
The building was going to collapse. I still had Kristophe and Claude, as well as my son and his friends, and Alexander. I narrowed my eyes as Newell struggled to his feet, blood oozing past his lips as he glared at me, his blue eyes layered with red bloody tears.
"Good." He managed, then his eyelids fluttered shut and he fell to his knees again, ready to hit the floor, but I caught him under the arms. I sighed in relief, then lifted him up into my arms, glancing at the ceiling that was trembling. I winced at the headache that spiked in my temple.
I turned and went to the hallway where Kristophe was getting to his feet with Claude tightly in his arms.
"Kristophe, come this way immediately." I ordered loudly, wincing as I sent another layer of power on the ceiling in the hallway. Kristophe hesitated, seeing Newell before I tapped my foot impatiently. He winced and rushed forward quickly. As soon as he exited the hallway, I let it collapse, relieving the pressure in my head. I whirled around.
"Go out the front entrance and run as far away as you can get! Down the driveway, even if you have to get near the road, go!" I commanded loudly. Kristophe grimaced, but obeyed instantly, rushing out of the building, struggling with his brother in his arms. I started to run out when I felt something sharp enter my chest. I winced, and almost dropped Newell as I stopped just a couple feet from the door, looking down to see Newell holding the handle of a dagger that he had embedded deeply into my chest.
I felt the blade slice open my lungs and graze my heart. Blood burst past the barriers inside me, rushing up my throat and bubbling past my lips. I let it run down my chin as I stared down at Newell, who was breathing hard.
"S-Sh.... Hngh... Shut... up... n'die..." He mumbled and let go of the handle after giving it a hard twist, ripping the wounds in my organs open wider. I sank to my knees at first, breathing hard and spitting out globs of blood. I gritted my teeth.
"Sorry." I apologized, then heaved myself to my feet as I scrambled out of the building as fast as I could. My whole body screamed in protest as I managed to run, tripping and falling throught the snow as I finally managed to get a good ways away. I sent one final blast of power through the building, relieved to find that Storm and the others had made it.
I sucked the power back in and the building shuddered, groaning and screeching as it began to cave inwards. I glanced up over my shoulder, letting the power inside me rush to heal the wounds I had sustained.
I watched the building fall in ruins to the snowy ground before I turned my head to see Kristophe kneeling in the snow with his brother, looking at me helplessly. I took a few deep breathes, laying Newell down in the snow before I reached up, gripping the handle of the dagger in my chest.
I pulled hard, gritting my teeth before gasping, blood flying past my lips and spattering to the snowy ground. I dropped it in the snow and slowly rose to my feet, feeling the power rip through me and quickly stitch up my wounds. I stood over Newell's small body as Kristophe's eyes watched me intently.
"By order of the Court of Seven, I hereby sentence Newell C. Drakon to a life in prison. His treatment as a terrorist put into effect the moment he arrives. If you want to escape the same fate," I told Kristophe directly, watching his eyes flicker, "You will serve me. In return, you and your brother will live and have a home. I'm giving you a second chance. Do you accept or decline?"
Kristophe looked at me, then down at his brother. He was silent for the longest time before squeezing his eyes shut, then peering up at me. He lowered his head in a silent bow and I nodded before reaching into the pocket of my slacks. I dialed a number and held the phone to my ear.
"Where the hell are you?!" Storm's voice barked in my ear, loud enough so that I had to hold the phone away from my ear.
"Ouch. Keep your voice down. I have a slight headache. Are you with William?" I asked calmly, scanning the snowy field around us, trimmed with the dark forests that were only illuminated by the full moon that hung in the sky overhead.
"Yes, but--"
"Excellent. Have him bring the car. We have a couple of wounded soldiers and their general."
"Wait, does that mean--"
"Is Alexander with you?"
"Yes--"
"All right. Come to the main entrance. We're waiting by the driveway."
"But--"
"Now, Storm. I'm really too tired to argue right now. You can do all the yelling and screaming when we get back home and I have some chamomile tea and an ice bag." I promised, then hung up before Storm could speak again. I tucked the cell phone away, then bent down, pulling Newell up into my arms. Our blood stained the snow deep red, melting it through to the ground. I looked at Kristophe, who had risen to his feet and was holding his brother tightly, his head held down dutifully.
"You've made the right decision," I told him, making me him glance up past his hair, "You only do the things you do to protect your brother. To please your brother. By accepting my offer, you have saved yourselves. Consider yourself lucky. The Goddess is giving you another chance."
"He's going to hate me." Kristophe murmured. I smiled lightly, glancing at Claude, who was still unconscious in Kristophe's arms. His head was tilted back, his hair falling away from his face, blood caked across his torso and one of his legs very obviously broken.
"He's your brother. Your best friend. Your lover. That's like saying the Goddess hates you." I answered.
"Doesn't She?" Kristophe asked quietly. I looked at him seriously now.
"No. Kristophe. She doesn't." I didn't say another word as I spotted the headlights of the Hummer pulling up along the driveway. Kristophe remained silent as the car pulled up along side us and Storm kicked the back door open, coming out and pulling up short at the sight of Newell in my arms.
"You didn't kill him?" He demanded.
"Didn't kill who?" Another voice said. My eyes flickered and I looked up as Alexander came from the backseat. He was wearing very unsightly clothing that a casual human would wear, only torn in some places as well as smudged with dirt. Dried blood ran under his cheek, from a wound that was now healed. His hair was a complete mess, filthy from fighting his way out of the building.
I smiled.
"You look beautiful, Alexander." I greeted him. He blinked and looked at me, surprised before his cheeks turned a light pink.
"I look like I was hit by a truck. You don't look any better." He added uneasily. I glanced down at myself, then looked up with a light shrug.
"I've seen worse... Now. I don't mean to ruin a wonderful moment, but it's below freezing and I'm only wearing a shirt filled with holes. Can we please head back home?" I asked calmly, smiling. Storm was still looking at me incredulously, but obeyed as he shooed Alexander back into the Hummer. I gestured for Kristophe to get in as well before I went around to the truck, laying Newell down there. I opened a small compartment in the floor and pulled out a link of silver chains.
"What're those for?" Alexander asked, on his knees on the back seat, looking over at me. I smiled warmly.
"Like I said, Newell's a lot stronger than people give him credit for. He's also very stubborn." I added, then pushed Newell onto his side, wrapping the chains tightly around his little hands before pulling the around him. I took out a padlock and clicked the two chain ends together before I slammed the truck shut and came around to the passenger's seat.
I climbed in, glancing in the rearview to see that Zander, Mark, and Slade were in the front back seat and in the very back, Alexander, Storm, Kristophe, and Claude were crammed together and all looking very unhappy about it.
"Well," I decided, ignoring William's worried look as I reached for the radio, "I don't know about you guys, but I could go for some music." Christmas music filled the Hummer, making everyone grimace.
Sleigh bells ring, are you listening,
In the lane, snow is glistening
A beautiful sight,
We're happy tonight.
Walking in a winter wonderland.