17 Chapter 17

Dimitri returned to the red sports car parked in the back alley.

He had no fear of walking down the dark streets, no matter what the time. There were few things stupid enough to attack a predator like him. Even the non-human folks could sense the danger when he was around. Not unless they possessed a death wish. Turning into the alley, he came to a halt. With a smooth motion, he pulled the two daggers from his boots and scanned the darkness. Even over the stench of garbage and human waste, he could detect the unmistakable scent of witches.

Now that Blanca was safe at his vacation house on the outskirts of the city, he had a mission to find out who managed to infiltrate the mansion with magical fire, and if he was not wrong, only a strong and powerful witch could possibly fight off his protection spell on his dwelling. With fury that smoldered like magma, he just wanted to kill someone and go back to Blanca. Somebody was going to pay.

Three warrior witches, probably from Lady Morgana's coven. Dimitri widened his stance as he caught sight of the nearest witch. But Dimitri didn't miss the predatory hunger on her scarlet lean face, or the glow in the brown eyes that revealed he was close to enchantment, a spell to lure some humans.

Even this witch could be dangerous when their blood was running hot and their soul was calling for a sacrifice. Never taking his eyes off of the witch who was poised near a black SUV, Dimitri reached out with his senses to find the other witch and found that they were accompanied by a werewolf. He wasn't about to be distracted by one mangy crone so that the others could outflank him. He knew the witches had an idea that someone lurked in the night, and they thought maybe it was feral demons or rogue werewolves.

Dimitri had been in his lair for years since Barbara and Benjamin's passing, and ever since he didn't call on his evil side, he tried every spell in the book and tried to keep his scent hidden, but with Blanca's slaying attempt, he couldn't just take it slow. Much to his disappointment, it was no accident that the last living vampire was still able to remain hidden yet had been attacked in his own mansion.

He paused as one more rancid witch hid behind a garbage bin while the werewolf patrol and the remaining witch were on the roof of an empty bread shop across the alley.

Smart creature, smarter than the nearest werewolf, who gave a low growl in his throat. He was going to attack. Already his muscles were tense with impatience, and his breath came in small pants. In contrast, Dimitri remained utterly immobile, his thoughts clear and the silver daggers held loosely in his hands. His seeming nonchalance was all the provocation the rabid werewolf needed, and with a hair-stirring growl, he launched himself forward.

Dimitri waited until the man was nearly on him before reaching out and grasping the beast by the throat. There was a strangled whine followed by the gurgling clatter of death as Dimitri lifted him off the ground and crushed his throat and sank his fangs for the final blow. He yanked the struggling form close to his body as he slid the dagger between his ribs and deep into his heart. A werewolf could heal from almost any wound except silver to the heart or decapitation. Then he saw him turn into dust.

There was a gasping cry as the other witch went limp when he threw his dagger into her heart, and after tossing aside the corpse, Dimitri smoothly turned in time to see the next bitch rush from behind the garbage bin. He tossed the dagger in his hand with such blinding speed that the attacking werewolf and the crone took several steps before finally coming to an unsteady halt and examining the dagger stuck in his chest. It howled in pain.

"Vampire!"

He could hear them gasping and his eyes widened.

It hadn't been a fatal hit, but the silver was deeply embedded in the witch and the werewolf's bodies With a piercing shriek, the witch collapsed to her knees, anxiously yanking on the hilt as the wolf lay dead in the corner, slowly withering

The pale, delicious odour of flaming flesh permeated the freezing air, but Dimitri's attention had already been drawn to the two werewolves who remained on the roof above as he went after the witch and grabbed her in no time.

"Witch, who sent you?" he demanded.

*****

After three minutes,

Dimitri muttered as he made his way through the mysterious tavern with no name, toward the door. He walked out into the night, dodging a swarm of mortal clubbers dressed as zombies in threadbare costumes and death-warmed-over face paint. His sensitive hearing picked up on hundreds of sounds, ranging from regular traffic noise to the shrieks and laughter of drunken custom partygoers crowding the streets and sidewalks.

He also heard something else.

Something that raised the hackles of his vampire senses to full alert.

"Gabby, make sure she hasn't woken up yet," he said to his butler on the other end of the phone.

"I'll be there shortly. After all, the night wasn't a total waste."

"Did you catch the witch, sire?"

"A few, but not the one who cast the magical fire spell." Dimitri hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket.

He crept down a back alley, trailed by the low growl and stale, lingering stink of a lurking rogue werewolf stalking its prey. Dimitri, like the others, despised the members of the renegade who'd gone feral and were willing to expose the supernatural realm to humans. His vampire craved insanity because he knew he needed to feed—and occasionally kill—in order to survive. But he knew that the line between necessity and gluttony was razor-thin, only a few pitiful ounces of blood. If a vampire ate too much or indulged his hunger too frequently, he risked becoming addicted and entering a perpetual state of starvation known as "Bloodlust." If he succumbed to the sickness, he would go feral like any other human, becoming a violent junkie willing to do anything for his next dosage.

The rogues' savagery and indiscretion jeopardised their existence, and now that humans had conducted studies, it wouldn't be long before they discovered them. Those studies exposed the rogues to the human race, a threat that Dimitri and the rest of the supernatural would not tolerate. And there was a larger threat blooming as well: As of a few weeks ago, it had become apparent that the werewolf rogues were organizing, their numbers increasing, their tactics becoming orchestrated toward a goal that seemed nothing short of war. If they weren't stopped and stopped soon, both humankind and non-human alike could find themselves at the centre of a hellish, blood-soaked battle to rival even the worst Armageddon scheme.

For now, while the council was focused on locating the rogue's lair and their new command post, someone like him was on a mission, and it was not that simple. Hunt down and eliminate every feral creature possible. Eradicate them like the diseased pest they were. It was a toll Dimitri relished, never more at home than when he was on the move, prowling the streets with weapons in hand, looking for a fight. He was certain that it kept him alive and, even more, that it kept the darkest of his demons at bay.

Dimitri rounded a corner, then crept into another narrow lane between a couple of old brick buildings and watched the newly arrived demon, who looked like a human aside from his vantage point of view. With their dark shadow creatures looming overhead, they could not be mistaken as young partygoers.

Now he knew this was nothing but a pub, but an old auction house. Its doors were hidden from view behind a bread shop. The driver wiggled out of his seat and limped up to the doors, and taking a huge raven pull-rope in his hands, he yanked forcefully. A dull whang from a distant bell was scarcely audible over the endless whistling of the wind. The gates swung open slowly. The driver whisked his companions into motion, and the car staggered deliberately into the courtyard of the witch auction house's compound. It stopped in front of an imposing set of doors set into the front of the building, like prison gates, where all possible human drug-addict slaves would be locked up for bidding later that night. On the top step, a tall woman dressed in a black gown and coat waited in silence. He knew her from somewhere.

Three individuals in the back of the Toyota Vios scurried out of the passenger seat and stretched their stiff muscles before looking at each other in surprise. A woman suddenly covered herself with the dirty clothing from the car when she realised that they were naked. The couple took the initiative to take another cover from the seat and cover themselves.

Dimitri whispered in the air. "What are you all up to, demons?" He watched them carefully from the rooftop.

"What the fuck was that, Devin? Where the fuck are we now?" Her companion asked as they wandered around. The blanket-covered woman called Devin turned her head and watched the two massive men at the gate with a bewildered look on their faces and the other woman in the dark coat come forward and whip her with her rope. "Slave. Follow me, all of you, or risk being chained."

Devin looked at her two companions and ushered them to keep quiet as they all obeyed the dark woman with a rope. The three knew not to cause uproar and followed the witch instead.

Reading their minds, Dimitri knew that they were some stupid tourists but something else too. And now they needed clothing and the winter chill made them shiver, no doubt. The old building would be their temporary refuge. So they heeded and pretended to obey. For now, the woman thought to herself as Dimitri smirked.

"Now now! What are you up to, demons?" Dimitri whimpered to himself.

A few seconds later, the witch, ushering them to move faster, the man on Devin's side, whispered in her ear. "Devin, we should ask them what day it is today or if they are giving us the drugs. And where is the bitch? I can't sense her."

"Me too. She seems far away. And by the way, we have to be careful with these witches, they look rather scary and... I believe they were monsters here in the area."

"Really? How did you know?"

"Just a hunch!"

Hearing them, Dimitri raised his eyebrows. The woman had sensed him.

"Silence!" The dark woman with the rope shouted at them and slapped the man beside Devin, which earned him a growl, but he stopped when Devin widened her eyes.

"Silence, slaves, you do not have the right to talk."

Waiting until the others climbed the steps, the second witch reached up and kissed the driver lightly on the lips before following the other witch.

The driver swerved into the car seat and left with no further message and faded away out of the gates that swung closed with a hollow thud. Up close, the old building looked more like a prison than a religious haven, but perhaps the difference was ghostly.

"All of you. Come with me." The witch mumbled as the three approached the top of the stairs. The gathering expanse inside the building, though ill-lit and somewhat humid, was a charming solace from the continuing rain on the outside. "You can take off your wet coverings and put them in the closet by the door," the authoritative voice declared. "...Then, follow me."

"Naked, madam?" The man asked.

Watching them from the distance, Dimitri smirked.

"Yes!" Her response was short.

The dark-gowned witch looked at them in contempt. She was a tall, statuesque blonde in what appeared to be her late twenties, who led the three down a long, dark corridor and stopped at a door some two-thirds of the way along and knocked quietly.

A muffled voice said, "Come in." and they entered. Devin was uncomfortable with their nakedness, and thanks to the lamp in the dim lightroom, their bodies weren't entirely free for so many eyes to see. The head of the surprisingly young bidding leader, possibly in her late forties, rose from behind her massive oak table and approached each of them in turn and scrutinised them.

"Welcome humans. Wear this robe immediately and sit down. Where are you from? By the look of it, you aren't from Dublin nor the nearby city, tourist?" Lady Morgana demanded, suggesting some stools. They sat, thankful to be off their feet and now covered with old, sour-smelling robes without undergarments, which made Devin so uncomfortable, and her companion's eyebrows waggled as the welcomer provided them a once-over and extended a seductive smile. But they kept quiet and didn't utter a word in response to the woman's inquiry,

"So, do you know why you are here?" The woman's Scottish accent lingered when she asked the three tourists.