The Shadow's Son (12 page)

Zac knew he was blocking off his emotions. It was the only way he could deal with this. Already, he felt his sensitivity dulling and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. His humanity was starting to slip away and it hadn't taken much at all. The ease of letting go should have alarmed him after all the time he'd spent working towards the opposite, but he found his care factor at absolute zero.

Killing Garrett in such a theatrical way had been a little fun, hadn't it?

Leaving the body where it was, Zac climbed the stairs and went into the bedroom. Wrenching open the closet, he pulled out a new shirt, a long sleeve black button up number. Garrett was stupid, he ran with rouge witches and didn't even have a sunlight spell, but at least he had good taste in clothing. Like
that
was a redeeming quality.

Rifling through the rest of the clothes, he pulled out a heavy woolen black coat that looked like it was from one of those upper class boutiques. That would do nicely since his was stained with the blood of two vampires. Garrett wasn't going to miss them now, was he? May as well take advantage.

Stealing off a dead guy? This was a new low, but he'd been lower. This time, he'd just gotten there a lot faster than usual.

Sighing, Zac wandered through to the bathroom and turned the faucet on. If he was going to go around killing vampires all day and night, he was going to get tired of washing blood off himself. Sooner rather than later, he had to go and report back to Regulus. Had to be presentable for the boss, right? And he hoped the information he'd gotten from Garrett was up to scratch.

He'd find out soon enough.

A
ya looked up at the old stone building with
it's
fancy columns and hordes of tourists and sighed. To her annoyance, Tristan took her arm and
lead
her up the stairs and through the doors. The foyer was dimly lit, but light spilled in through the archways from the modern interior, drawing her eye. There was a gift shop to one side and a cloakroom and a huge perspex box filled with all kinds of money. Donations left by the hordes of humans that milled about with cameras in hand.

To the left was a grand staircase that looked just as old as the buildings facade.
A few hundred years, perhaps.
At the foot was a stand filled with maps. Wresting free her arm from Tristan's she walked over and picked up one, disregarding the suggested donation, immediately looking for the Middle Ages rooms.

"Here," Tristan pointed over her shoulder. "Europe AD 300 to 1100. Closed until late December."

Without looking at him, she slapped the map into his chest and walked off up the staircase to the left, weaving her way through the slow walkers and children.

As soon as they reached the upper floor, they saw the first room. Just as the man had said, it was one of the ones that were closed for renovation. All the entrances were blocked off with panels of chip wood that had been painted white and posters had been stuck here and there declaring as much. A walkway had been set to one side to allow access to the rooms beyond, so they continued along to find a less travelled area.

Around the corner was an adjoining room that split off into another gallery ahead. A museum worker stood to one side, a
walkie talkie
clipped to his belt, watching people walk by. To his right was a makeshift doorway into the closed medieval gallery. That was where they'd get inside.

"Excuse me," Aya called out, walking up to the man.

He looked up at her and did a double take. He thought she was pretty, so that would make this a little easier and perhaps a little more fun.

Leaning against the wall, she looked him up and down with a smile. "Go away," she hissed under her breath.

The man's expression fell as the compulsion took hold and he wandered away looking sheepish.

Tristan came up from behind and gave her a look. Shrugging, she pushed through the door before anyone else walked through from the adjoining galleries.

The room was empty; only signs of the advertised renovation were present. Glass cases lined the walls and there were a number of
free standing
cases around the room covered in white sheets. Artifacts had been removed and put into storage for the duration of the works. A new paint smell hung in the air giving away the fact the room had been painted a few 
day
 earlier. Flat cardboard boxes leant up against the wall and she guessed they probably held plaques that were yet to be placed next to their chosen item. They weren't far off finishing this particular gallery.

Sensing movement in the next room, she held Tristan back and moved forward silently. The air hung heavy with something else. Something that was very familiar.
The stench of witches.

Coming into the next gallery she knew a man stood at the opposite end amongst the empty cases, his dark form standing out starkly against the white backdrop. There was no mistaking what this man was. Aya was across the room before he could take another breath, slamming his face up against the wall, her hand wound into the hair at the back of his head.

"This better not be a trap, witch."

"It's the middle of the day and there are thousands of people in the museum," the man said. "I'm not that stupid."

"Like that's mattered before," she narrowed her eyes and smirked when his own widened.

"I can see you've had a very interesting life."

"Understatement of the millennia," she said, letting him go.

"I prefer the term, warlock, actually," the man said, rubbing his face. "People think you're a girl if you say witch."

Male witches were rare, but Aya still saw them all the same. She'd call him what she wanted.

"Why have you brought us here?" Tristan interrupted before she could retort.

"This has been a long time coming," the witch said. "We have access to information you want and are willing to help you get it in exchange for some assistance."

Aya thought as much. Nothing came for free and where she was concerned, they always wanted the infamous Witch Hunter to hunt someone down. "We will see," she said, suspiciously. "It depends on your terms."

"Of course."

As an after thought, she asked, "Who was that man? The one who sent us here."

"Ahh," the witch said. "You must mean Julian. He's human and sympathetic to our cause. He's our book man."

"He's very…" Aya tried to think of an appropriate word, "rumpled. And what are you called?"

"Joseph."

"Now, start talking, Joseph. I haven't got all day."

Joseph shuffled from foot to foot, giving away that he was uncomfortable. Had he come here confident that he wouldn't end up on the receiving end of her malice? Had she blown all his carefully laid words out of the water? She hoped so.

"There's a Coven of witches that is residing in London that has been making some outrageous claims," he said, looking warily at Tristan, who was watching the door. "They claim they are the custodians of something powerful. They also claim their line is unbroken from before the beginning."

"From before the Five?" Aya raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. They claim to be something more than just witches," he said looking pointedly at Aya. "Their coven is known to many and is thought to have been disbanded over two hundred years ago. Many thought they were just a myth until now."

"And what does that mean?" she asked, her patience beginning to wear thin.

"They have a reputation for extremism. What they are is not for me to explain," Joseph said. "I'm not one of them."

"Then how do you know any of this?"

"We have an insider. Someone who is a part of
them,
but disagrees with many of their views. Someone who wants to be free of them."

She regarded this for a moment, thinking about the priest and the man that had followed them from London to Salisbury. They really had a little network going, didn't they?
The Anti-Witch Network.
"Who are they?"

"I won't say just yet, but she is one of the blood. A half-breed."

And there it was. Blood. Half-breed. Did this woman have the same blood as Victoria? If she were to feed from her, would it have the same effect? Her gut was telling her yes. She wanted to ask, but instead she said, "What is this Coven hiding?"

"That, I don't know. It's something that only the most trusted in their circle know anything about. We are not even sure that they have located it."

"And why are you and your little friends so eager to form a resistance against them?"

"We may not know what it is they're working towards, but there has been a lot of talk about waking something. Don't misunderstand me, Hunter. The Coven has no good intentions. We fear the worst if they succeed."

"And this has something to do with me," she mused out loud. "More than the mere fact that I am a witch hunter and you want my assistance."

Joseph shook his head, surprised. "People say you carry the abilities of a witch."

"I'm a vampire, Joseph."

"And we both know that's only part of it."

"Clever little boy." Her lip curled up into a sneer.

"Victoria's epitaph is a message to you, the hunter and the star. We knew that one day you would come looking and we hoped that it was sooner rather than later."

"You knew that Victoria was after me."

"Yes. She was a part of the Coven until the Roman, Regulus turned her."

Aya snorted. It all began to fit into place. Victoria was part of this Coven that had something powerful hidden away that they didn't know how to wake. These renegades had counted on her following the trail back to Salisbury so they could enlist her help in stopping them. It still didn't explain what Victoria was. What all the witches in this Coven claimed to be and why they needed her on side so much. The only way she could find out for sure was to meet this insider.

"Can you get me a meeting with your insider?"

"Yes, but it comes with it's risks."

"Doesn't it always?" she rolled her eyes. There wasn't much left she hadn't seen when it came to backstabbing,
double dealing
and elaborate traps. "You witches and your cryptic messages. Why can't you just say what you mean and leave it at that."

"We play dangerous games, Hunter. A little care works well for our kind."

"And not one of you knows the entire story," she sighed.

"In case one of us is taken."

Deep
below,
sleeps a vicious sword, Beware ye who breaks the sleeping ward. 
God damn
witches and their cryptic poetry. Now, she realized, it was obvious that the Coven was trying to find and wake up something powerful. In these situations, Aya had learnt that it was better to leave these things well alone. The Coven was playing with fire and someone would be burned.

"So, all of this, it was just to enlist my help?"

"Yes, we can't do this alone. There are others trying to uncover the Coven's secrets."

Arturius and Regulus had been looking for something. Now, she knew what. Regulus had hoped to use Victoria somehow, but she had ended up hunting her and ruining Zac and Sam's lives. Something had gone wrong, but what?

Joseph continued, "We want to find what they have and either destroy it or hide it away for eternity."

"You don't even know what it is," she snorted.

"No."

"Then how do I know that you and your little friends won't take it and use it for yourselves?"

"That you'll have to take on faith."

"Faith," she hissed, "is of little consequence where power is concerned."

"It's all I have."

Aya regarded Joseph and found that he believed he was telling the truth. In the end, she would be there to make sure that all of them kept their word. "I will help you," she said. "But it comes with a price."

"And what would you ask?"

"No more
lies
, no more secrets. And if I see fit to kill you all along with the Coven, know that I won't hesitate." If Joseph knew even a quarter of her reputation, he knew that she made good on her threats every single time. She had nothing to fear from this rag tag group of renegades and they had everything to fear from her. After all, she could take their power with a single touch. For a witch being ordinary... that was worse than death.

Tristan had been awfully quiet since they had left the museum. Aya regarded him as they walked back to the hotel as if she could read his mind. He was usually all for another
witch hunt
, but this time he was oddly shaken. Perhaps he had gotten more than he had bargained for? He'd only signed on for finding the truth behind Victoria's lineage, not infiltrating an entire coven of witches known for their extreme views.

"Tristan," she said as he unlocked the door to their room.

"What?"

"You don't have to follow me, you know."

He threw the room key onto the table inside the door and grinned. "It's always an adventure when you're around."

"Unfortunately."

"I'd follow you into the bowels of hell, Arrow. Figuratively speakin'," he said, running a hand over his face. "I just didn't count on having to actually go there."

Aya smiled wryly, "Another hot day in hell, my friend."

"I don't go back on my promises, you know."

"I know. Chances are you won't have to lift a finger."

"I'm not afraid of a fight," he said, offended. "I'm worried about what we'll find."

Aya shrugged and turned to the mini-bar, pulling out an assortment of tiny liquor bottles. "Who knows,
Tristan.
Who
knows.
Probably all manner of beasts.
Regulus has his fingers in this pie as well."