Chapter 8 : To Tasks and Toasts

Raven’s POV

Five hundred twenty-two. Five hundred twenty-three. Five hundred twenty-four.

I count each individual second as Arthur wraps up his work. I stare at the same ceiling tile unblinking and unmoving like the corpses on his slabs. It’s amazing. Regardless of being a vampire or human, time does move slower when you’re counting each individual moment.

Five hundred twenty-seven. Five hundred twenty-eight.

Above me, I know there are dozens of people taking their last breaths while I, petrified in time, didn’t require those life-saving breaths.

Fate really was cruel, deciding I deserved this unending immortality while others far more deserving would do anything to live this cursed life.

“Ready when you are, Mr. Black,” says Arthur, interrupting my nonsensical thoughts.

I don’t bother saying anything. Instead, I push myself off the cooler and lead the way out of the hospital. There is already a crack in the back door where the fire alarm won’t trip when it is opened. We slip through completely undetected into the night air.

I’ve never been so grateful to have the smell of the city permeate my nostrils. I drink in the evening air and look back at Arthur. He has his supplies over his shoulder in one of those cooling packs they use to transport organs. Usually, such things would be the source of nightmares for a ‘normal person’.

What is it like being normal? Have I completely forgotten? For me, this is a normal evening.

I shrug off my thoughts and, instead, crouch and begin running through the streets with Arthur right on my heels the entire way. For such an older vampire, the guy is spry. I have to give him that.

We dart from street corner to street corner before scurrying up some of the nearby roofs and leaping from fire escapes to gutter lines until we make it to the Industrial Park. The Industrial Park is our way of saying trash heap. It is a series of warehouses with broken-down windows and rotten floors. Mold and thickening fluids seep through the walls and squish beneath even the lightest step on the ground.

This place was abandoned by the police and government years ago. It was the territory of drug users and the criminal elite. Little did authorities know that we commandeered it ages ago and were only allowing some of these other criminal elements to reside to cover the true operation further below.

As I run up to the building, I see three of my fellow vampire coven members standing guard at the top of the building. They lurk over the edges like gargoyles, but they serve their purpose well enough. They’re sentries, meant to deter any rival families while we wrap up any essentials. They’re good for little else.

They recognize Arthur and me as we land on the top of the roof and, wordlessly, we are allowed into the main structure. The darkness doesn’t bother us in the slightest. My eyes adjust instantly to the nearly complete void of darkness as we descend the ladders and stairs from the attic to the main floor which is practically armor enforced.

As we descend, I hear the sounds of dull moaning and whimpers from the humans we have here. I stare into the blank faces of some of the humans, their mildly gaunt faces pale from lack of sunlight. I glance at the tubes and wires hooked up to each and every one. Bags of blood hang along the edges of the beds which the humans are strapped to. No doubt, the drugs are keeping their minds occupied, and the sound of the whimpering ones is merely coming from our latest snatch-and-grab.

This entire operation is the brainchild of our Don, Marcello, and Arthur. We, as vampires, require blood, but can’t always go on drinking sprees when we get thirsty. The operation of snatching humans, draining them for a prolonged period of time, and then releasing them after wasting their minds with memory-altering concoctions in places far from us, is a necessity for such a large coven like ours. Sure, we have our slips and desires, but we also have to keep a low profile.

Silence in our operation is key.

I lean back against one of the only stable pillars in the warehouse and watch as Arthur gets to work hooking up the next three humans to IVs and blood taps. It took time for this old codger to convince our Don that this was the proper way forward, but it was the genius of our Don who perfected the process to minimize suspicion.

I look on and admire the old man’s work. I never bothered really getting to know what needles and tubes do what. Such things were, as the Don would say, not within my specialty. I have… other skills… Which makes me important to the coven.

For whatever reason, I think about Blair once more. Would she know what to do with all of these hooks and wires? Would she understand how to tend to these humans? My guess was yes.

“Speak of the devil. Raven, I should have expected you would be here on a tending night.”

My already chilled blood freezes as I recognize the voice immediately as our leader and Don—Marcello Luciano. I turn around and see him striding up in the darkness, face practically skeletal against the white hair on his head and face. As he steps into what little light is available in our black abyss, his toned figure fills out his slightly thin features.

I wasn’t expecting him for another week, not that I would be in poor standing. I have completed the tasks he set before me.

“Don,” I greet as I give him a courteous bow. It’s only polite. “You’ve arrived sooner than anticipated.”

“Business concluded early,” he says with a smile. I immediately know that whatever rival family Marcello went to ‘convince’ to join us is no longer in existence.

Something moves in the shadows and, in an instant, my eyes train on the shadow emerging next to Marcello. My suspicion is immediately alleviated by seeing my best friend, Lucas Anderson. He stands at attention beside our Don like the good little soldier he is and waits to be dismissed before breaking ranks.

Marcello, however, doesn’t give this command. Instead, he steps up to my side and observes the good doctor's work of hooking up a particularly strong human male in his mid-twenties. Arthur takes his time inserting the needle as the man thrashes against his binds, but the human slowly succumbs to the drugs and slips into his dazed state.

“Yet another good night of work I see,” grins Marcello. “Speaking of which, how have things progressed since I’ve been away? Any new developments?”

“No, sir. All operations are being taken care of as requested,” I say. The line feels mechanical and drawn out of me.

“Any casualties?” asks the Don.

I immediately glance past our leader toward my friend, Lucas, to see he is already looking at me. This is a test. I suspected as much. Still, our illustrious leader does enjoy his petty torments and reassurances that we are all following his lead.

“One. Angelo,” I reply. I see no reason to lie to our leader. I’ve never failed one of these so-called tests before and I do not intend to do so now.

“Ah, yes. I did hear about that. A good brother and a better soldier. He will be mourned. How did it happen?” asks Marcello, turning his pale brown eyes toward me. I see him trying to look into what small fragment of my soul that might still be inside me to measure my response.

“We were out on one of our assigned tasks. We were settling a debt when we were ambushed. Not only did those Gambino scum decide to set up an ambush, but we were also jumped by a vampire hunter. We managed to chase away the Gambino members, but the hunter landed a fatal blow to Angelo. I’m… still trying to figure out how,” I say, rattling off the report in that same mechanical voice.

Angelo.

He was a good friend of mine.

He was a partner in crime and someone who could hold his own.

He shouldn’t have died.

More importantly, I should be feeling something at the loss of my friend. Is it because I’ve seen so many fall? Or is it because of some other factor that keeps me from experiencing the death of Angelo?

“I see. I suppose you have intentions of finishing off this hunter?” asks Marcello.

I nod. “Yes, Don. It will be done,” I say.

A greasy smile turns our leader’s lips as he claps his hands together. “Marvelous. Always can count on you, Raven. I do have to ask, however, why this hunter was not dispatched immediately?” Marcello stares at me for just a brief moment as he reads my expression.

The joke is on him though. I have yet to ever break my neutral expression while talking to him.

“Angelo required my attention. Rather than leave him to possibly be interrogated by the hunter’s recently developed tactics and jeopardize the coven, I elected to bring him to Arthur, who was preoccupied with serving the coven’s cause. Some… human… tried to save Angelo, but some of his wounds were too severe. He didn’t make it.”

Lucas gives me a quick look. He, of all people in the coven, would be able to tell the subtle differences in the way I say ‘human’ while referring to a specific human. I haven’t filled him in on all of the details since he has been traveling with the Don. Thankfully, Lucas keeps his posture stiff and flicks his eyes back to attention after flashing me a curious look.

“Well, all the more reason for you to discover the identity of the hunter and eliminate him. As an enforcer, this should be easy work. And, in pursuit of this task of finding the hunter and disposing of him, I have another task for you,” Marcello says, the smile slipping from his face.

It is obvious he is displeased with the situation about the hunter but seems curious at the same time about what these new methods of hunting our kind are.

“Just so. I live to serve the family,” I say. I think about the words I say and hear the freedom of decision slip once again from my fingers. Whatever this task is will bring me further away from repaying my life debt to Blair—the person who tried to save my friend.

“Indeed. Well, I shall discuss my task with you at a later time. Now is a time to celebrate,” states Marcello. He steps forward and snags one of the freshly harvested bags from the edge of the bed, tearing it open and raising it like a glass of fine wine. “To coven and vow. To the tasks of tomorrow. To caution and commitment.”

He takes a long drink from the fresh blood oozing out of the bag. Two thin beads drip down either side of his lips before he passes the bag to Lucas, who echoes the phrase and drinks before handing it to me.

“To coven and vow. To the tasks of tomorrow. To caution and commitment,” I say before tilting the thick crimson liquid into my mouth. I’m immediately refreshed and replenished, but there is another part of me that merely adheres to the tradition.

I toasted and made my vow, but do I really mean it?

One vow I knew I meant is the one I made to a human, and I’m certain I am late in accompanying her home.