The Shadow's Son (11 page)

Finally, Zac's eyes came down to the door of the pub and he grimaced. Time to get his hands dirty. He pushed open the heavy wooden door with a sigh and walked into the warmth. 

It was busy for a weekday night. Rock music blared from a cheap sound system and young alternative types stood around in groups drinking the cheapest beer they could get their hands on. Windows ran along the side opening out onto the alley and the bar ran opposite. In the back corner were some vintage pinball machines, but otherwise the place didn't have any furniture other than a couple of barstools and tables here and there.

His assessment of the place was interrupted when a young man bumped into him, spilling the top inch of his beer down the sleeve of Zac's heavy black coat.

"Oh, shit man, sorry," the man said, drunkenly wiping the beer away with his bare hand. When he realized Zac wasn't moving, he looked up and the smile fell from his face.

He glared down at the human with unmasked annoyance, his eyes tinged with black around the edges. The man stumbled back a step, almost dropping his beer entirely. Letting a sneer tug at his lip, he hissed through his teeth and turned away, walking towards the bar, disregarding him. 

There were a few people waiting to be served, but he leant over the top of the bar anyway and someone standing next to him went to call him out, but got one look at him and thought better of it.

"Hey," Zac called out to the bartender to catch his attention.

"Yeah," the guy said, leaning against the bar. "What you want?"

"I'm looking for a guy named Vince."

The bartender pointed towards the rear of the pub where
a pair of grey eyes were
staring at him in horror. He was just as Regulus had described him. Slicked back hair, button up plaid shirt and arms full of tattoos. And Vince seemed like he was smart enough to know what Zac was and why he was here.

Before he could take a step towards him, Vince was out of his seat and at the rear door, pushing through it with a deafening crack. He was after him a split second later, pushing people aside. He vaguely heard the bartender call out after him, but wasn't about to let the slimy little vampire give him the slip.

As Zac ran after him, he held back, watching the younger vampire. He was out of the alley and into the main street in full view of everyone, but that didn't seem to stop him. Now Zac understood Regulus' annoyance with this one. He ran faster than he was meant to, pushed people aside with more strength than was possible, and still he ran.

Zac wasn't as stupid as he was. While the humans were looking the other way, he jumped as high as he could manage, his fingers curling around the guttering of the adjoining building. A second later, he'd hauled himself up to the roof and followed where he couldn't be seen. Jumping from building to building, across streets and
alley ways
, all the time not loosing sight of his prey.

Vince was all over the place. It was like he hadn't got a handle on being a vampire at all. He'd disappear around a corner only to run into a dumpster or bash his shoulder against a tree. He'd stumble and fall to his knees, looking over his shoulder with blind fear. What a fucking idiot.

When he disappeared into a private garden in the middle of a square, Zac jumped down from the roof of the row of bordering houses, crossed the street and vaulted over the fence.

Vince stood in the center, his back pressed against the decorative fountain, his eyes wide and full of panic. Zac stood hidden in the shadows and regarded him for a moment. The vampire was barely in double digits, the Roman had told him, but from what he had witnessed, he had to be new. He was days or a handful of weeks, not ten years. No one was
that
stupid.

"I know you're there," Vince called out into the dark garden, his head turning at the slightest sound.

Rolling his eyes, Zac sauntered out into the middle of the square, in full view of the younger vampire.

Jumping back, Vince said, "Stay away."

"You know I'm not going to do that, Vince," he said quietly, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

"You haven't given me a chance. It's only been a few days. Just a couple more, that's all I need."

Zac narrowed his eyes, but it wasn't his place to ask what he meant. He was just here to deliver a message.

"You can't kill me," Vince pleaded, holding his hands up in front of him.

"Of course I can."

"Wait," his voice betrayed his blind fear. "We can come to an arrangement. Anything you want.
Anything
."

Who was Zac to question Regulus? Unless he wanted to end up dead beside this slimy little weakling of a vampire, he had to. The thought must have translated to his face, because Vince's face fell and he went to run, but Zac was faster. He pushed him roughly to the ground, his knee hard in his stomach, keeping the younger vampire in place.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to, Vince," he said, looking down at him. "It'll be over in a moment."

"No," he cried, trying to squirm his way out from under Zac's knee.

Sighing, he looked up, knowing that Regulus wasn't far away. He could feel the Roman's beady little eyes on him. Without a second thought, he plunged his hand into Vince's chest cavity and felt his fingers curl around his still beating heart. Before the vampire could let out a
blood curdling
scream, he wrenched it free with a sucking sound, spots of blood splattering onto the pavement.

As Vince's eyes glazed over and his body began to desiccate, he looked down at the heart in his sticky red hand, then down at the gaping hole from where it came. Shrugging, he stuffed it back in, wiped his hand clean on Vince's ugly plaid shirt and picked up the body. Standing outside the garden on the sidewalk, he waited.

A dark colored sedan screeched to a halt beside him and the trunk popped free. Kicking it open all the way, Zac dumped Vince's desiccated body inside next to the human woman he'd fed on earlier and slammed it shut. Climbing into the passenger seat, he glanced over at Regulus, who slammed his foot on the gas. As the car shot out onto the street, cutting off a taxi, all he could think about was how weird it felt driving on the opposite side of the road.

Regulus looked at him with a sick sense of triumph and he wondered what the hell he'd ask him to do next. He'd said the next job was more involved.

"Ready for the next job?" the Roman's voice cut through the silence.

Resting his head on the seat back, Zac sighed, "What do you want me to do?"

T
he sun had risen by the time Regulus pulled the car up in front of an old two story house in the middle of a long street packed with almost identical structures. To Zac, they all looked the same and the only distinguishing features were the numbers on each door.

The Roman looked over at him as the engine stilled and clicked as it began to cool down. "There," he said pointing to a house on the opposite side of the street. "Number seventy-eight."

"And what's there?" Zac asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Who," Regulus said, narrowing his eyes at his tone. "A vampire by the name of Garett lives here. He believes no one knows where he resides, but I've had my eyes on him for a long time."

"And he's pissed you off, too?"

"The little shit has been double dealing," he said with a snort. "It's no secret that Arturius and I were less than friendly, so you can imagine how annoyed I was to find out that he'd been feeding information to the both of us. Different information, I might add."

Zac looked up at the house, noting that all the curtains were closed tightly and
the were
bars across the glass. The place was like a fort. He wondered if a human lived there and what other security was on the place.

"If even one of these worthless little worms gets away with it, then more will follow," Regulus continued. "I do not get played, Zachary. There are severe consequences for those that dare."

"And I'm the one who needs to deliver them," he said.

Regulus' lips pulled into a smirk and he thumped him on the back. "You catch on quick."

When Regulus had said this job was more involved, Zac should have realized that it meant gathering information. The Roman's idea of gathering information was a euphemism for torture.

"Is there a human?" he asked.

"No."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing. This one thinks he's untouchable," Regulus said with a note of annoyance.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Get the truth from the little shit any way you can. Then kill him."

Zac opened the car door without another word, the cold morning air hitting him like a hammer.

"Zachary," the Roman called out after him. "Once you're done, come find me."

A white card flew out of the car, hitting him in the chest before falling to the ground. The car roared into life and shot forward. Before it went too far, he reached out and slammed the door closed. Once the dark sedan disappeared around the bend in the street, Zac looked down at the white card on the asphalt. Picking it up, he realized it was an address.

He had his orders and his summons, so he shouldn't be surprised that he was dumped so unceremoniously on the side of the road. Regulus had brought him here to work
for
him, not
with
him and until he could prove himself, Zac wouldn't be trusted with anything other than the Roman's amusement. He had to do this and do it spectacularly.

Waking towards the front door, he surveyed the facade for any nasty surprises, but Regulus had been right. This Garrett had an illusion of grandeur. He thought he was going to get away with it. All the windows were blacked out with what looked like heavy blackout curtains, but otherwise
the was
nothing remarkable about the outside.

The front door had no handle, just a deadlock and a bell, so there was only one option available. Ramming into it with a shoulder, Zac caught the door before it could hit the wall as it splintered inwards with a sharp crack. Continuing inside when he didn't hear any movement, he walked into the dark house, his eyes taking in every surface and opening along the hall.

The front room was a typical lounge. Heavy curtains were drawn over the windows blocking out any sunlight that might have lit the room. There were the typical furnishings he'd expected to find here. Sofa,
old fashioned
fireplace, television and a large black coffin. Zac snorted at the irony. The house was a fortress against the light and this guy was encasing himself for good measure. What a walking cliché.

No sound came from within, so he continued down the hall, checking out the adjoining kitchen. The sink was full of dirty glasses and empty beer cans, but was otherwise empty. Upstairs was a bathroom and two bedrooms severely lacking in personal items.

Clothes were flung haphazardly over the bed and the closet was ajar, the arm of a coat preventing it from closing properly. There was a laptop on the floor and he picked it up, turning it on. Zac looked through the hard drive, but found nothing of interest. At least this guy was smart enough not to keep anything of use in plain sight.
Unfortunate for him, though.

Looked like it was time to wake Garrett up and see what he had to say.

The vampire still hadn't realized he had a
visitor,
so Zac decided to make sure he was wide awake. Walking across to the windows, he swept the curtains open, letting the daylight illuminate the room. Without a second thought, he flung the coffin open and let a smirk cross his face as the vampire within screamed as his skin began to burn. He flung his smoking body into the shadow of the adjoining kitchen, cursing.

His eyes fell on Zac, who stood in the center of the room, sneering.

"What the fuck," the vampire hissed.

"Sleeping in a coffin?" Zac raised an eyebrow.

"Not all of us have fancy daylight spells, arsehole." The smoke began to dissipate as his body healed itself in the shadows. "Who the hell are you?"

"It doesn't matter who I am."

"The hell it does. You're in my house."

"You've been telling tales, Gerald."

"My name's Garrett," He was looking at him, warily. He knew exactly why he was being paid a visit. He just didn't know which Roman had sent him yet.

Zac snorted. "Which one got the right information?"

"Which who?"

"Don't push it, Garry."

"It's
Garrett
," he hissed.

"Why don't you come out here where we can talk like civilized people?" Zac said, knowing full well he couldn't.

"You could at least close the bloody curtains," Garrett gestured towards the sunlight streaming into the room. "Can't put together a coherent thought if I'm burning alive, yaknow."

Sweeping the heavy material over the window he sneered, "What makes you think that you'll be leaving here alive, Gerry?"

"It's
Garrett
," he yelled.

Zac was across the room in a second. Grasping the front of Garett's shirt, he dragged him towards the window. Before he could pull the curtains open, the vampire screeched at him.

"Wait!" he yelled, hands in front of his face. "I have information."

Zac paused. "Spit it out before I change my mind."

"The Hunter, she's here."

"What?" He suddenly realized why Regulus had sent him here of all places. It was personal and that would mean he'd get everything he needed out of this guy using any means necessary. The real test was
who
he would bring the information to.

"She's here with the Irish one. Tristan. He's double crossed Regulus."

"Tristan was working with Regulus? For how long?"

Garrett looked up at him with confusion. "You didn't know?"

"How long?" he roared, hauling the vampire up by the front of his t-shirt.

"Whoa, no need to get angry, mate. Tristan's been one of them for a hundred years at least. Maybe more. If he's with the Hunter then he's gone for good. He's got a hard on for her, if you know what I mean."

For his own good, Zac chose to ignore that comment. "What are they doing here?"

"They're lookin' for information on Victoria. Snoopin' around. They were seen at the British Library."

"Why?" he asked, knowing it had something to do with his blood.

"She was a witch," he tried to twist out of Zac's grasp. "At least, that's what everyone thought."

"If she wasn't a witch, then what was she?"

"Oh, she was a witch. But she was somethin' more."

"Keep talking." He let Garrett go, pushing him back.

"That's all I know, I swear."

"Oh, Garry," he rolled his eyes with a laugh. "You and your lies."

"Alright, alright," he held his hands up, palms out. "She was descended from a powerful line of witches that claimed to go back to the beginnin'. Untainted blood, they said. Her coven was hidin' somethin'. Probably still are.
Somethin' old and powerful.
They said if the Hunter found it, it would be the end. Shit'd hit the fan 'n all."

"The end of what?"

"I don't know."

"What are they hiding?"

"I don't know!"

"You better not be telling anymore lies, Gerald."

"It's Garrett!"

"Where is the coven?"

"Somewhere in London."

"Where?"

"I don't know! I don't know if they're still even here. No one has heard from them in decades."

"Well something has stirred them up if you of all people know about them. Where did you get this information?"

Garrett looked at him warily and glanced towards the door.

"Don't think about it," Zac warned him. "I'll beat you every single time."

The vampire sighed, resigning to himself that he wouldn't get away. "I know this guy who's on the in with some witches in Hoxton. He got the info from them."

Zac turned and walked around the room, running his finger along a stack of DVD's, reading the titles of a few books that were stacked on the mantle over the fireplace. Catching Garett's eye in the mirror he said, "So, who makes the biggest cut?"

"What?"

Turning, Zac laughed. "C'mon, Gerry. Selling second hand information to two founding vampires who would pay shitloads for it? Fifty fifty. Seventy thirty. Or we're you telling your mate that you were only selling it to one of them? Making a little bit more on the side." Garrett was looking at him with wide eyes, giving away that Zac was right on the money. "Which one are you more afraid of?"

"Why the hell do you care?"

"It doesn't matter either way to me," he shrugged. "But, you should care."

"Which one sent you?" His eyes darted to the door again, like he could escape outside. Could he be that desperate to take his chances out in the sunlight?

"Guess." Zac deliberately let his lips curve into a smirk.

"
Shit
."

Zac knew that if he
was
going cross one of the founders, he would cross Arturius. Despite the fact that he was now dead, he was a lot less scary than Regulus. He had been arrogant and that had made him stupid. No, Garrett knew that Regulus was behind this little visit.

Zac snorted, not taking his eyes off the vampire. This one was a runner. "You know you've been double dealing, Gerrard. And you know I can't let it continue."

"I'll do anythin'.
Anythin'
."

Zac turned his head, looking the vampire up and down. "Anything, you say?"

"Yeah," he nodded his head furiously. "Just name it."

He contemplated this for a moment, dragging it out, watching the desperation on Garett's face. Running a hand over the mantle, he picked up a wooden stake, turning it over in his hands before putting it back. "Well," he said, turning his gaze back onto the vampire. "There's this one thing."

"Name it."

"How about dying?"

Before Garett could bolt, Zac grasped the stake and lunged for him, his eyes consumed with darkness, fangs bared. His hand was grasping the vampire's head in seconds, smashing it down onto the floor, blood pouring from a gash rent into his forehead and Zac's other hand came down, ramming the stake into his back and clear through his stomach.

"Fuck!" Garett screamed, trying to wrestle himself free, but Zac was too strong, pressing a knee hard into his back.

"What's the matter, Garry?" he sneered, reaching into his mouth and grasping his tongue, tearing it from his mouth. "Cat got your tongue?"

Garrett writhed on the floor, blood pooling beneath them on the polished floorboards. He was trying to scream, but only strangled gurgling sounds came from his throat. Tearing the stake from his back, Zac flipped him over and stared down at the vampire with black eyes, knowing that he couldn't leave him alive. Garrett had to go.

Without a second thought, he positioned his fingers directly over Garrett's heart and began to dig his fingers into the vampire's flesh, blood pooling from the entry wounds and soaking into his shirt. He was so intent on burying his hand into the chest
cavity,
he couldn't hear the muffled screams that filled the air around them. Zac's head may as well have been stuffed with cotton wool for all the attention he paid.

Pressing his palm heavily into the annoying rib bones, they splintered with an audible crack and suddenly his hand was grasping Garrett's still beating heart. As he squeezed the warm, slippery organ, blood and flesh oozed between his fingers with a satisfying squelch. The vampire's body jerked beneath him and began to desiccate until there was a strangled gasp and the room fell silent.