AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Shaking off the thoughts of homicide, I turn my attention back to my fighters. The Elysium fights are brutal one-on-one battles that work in ranks. The more opponents you beat, the faster you rank up, until you are the only one standing. This isn’t a human boxing match. This is a gladiator-style ring with no rules. The goal is to do anything to defeat your opponent.
Even kill them.
Although that hasn’t happened in centuries.
Most clans are on the level with one another. Allies. The Night of the Long Knives, when Jedidiah pretty much wiped out every clan leader on the map, not just in Germany, but across the world, it taught us all a very important lesson. We are stronger standing together than apart. Together, the remaining clans and their leaders came to a shaky truce that deepened over the years. Until Jedidiah reappeared.
Without any hard evidence that he was behind the slaughter, we can’t outright kill him. Drystan has tried many times to convince the Elysium Council to put him down like a rabid dog, but many of them still believe in his cause.
That vampires are the supreme species and should rule over all supernaturals.
We aren’t. Not by a long shot. Our species has been documented to be the oldest of species walking the earth besides humans, from which we were formed, and witches. There are those who believe that witches are the ones who created the first Ancient. A punishment. But all magic comes at a steep price, and it’s also believed that whoever spoke the curse unwittingly created the ability for the Ancient to produce more of his kind.
There are whispers that Jedidiah was among one of the first created. That he’s older than the great tower of Babel. Not even Drystan knows how old his sire is. I don’t believe there’s anyone alive now who does. Not even the council.
A sharp cry draws my attention. Irena is sprawled out on her mat, her face drawn in a pained grimace. There’s a trickle of blood running down her nose, but she ignores it as she bounces back to her feet. Drystan is against his sister fighting in Elysium. He doesn’t want to see her hurt, and in part, I understand this. The siblings have been through hell and back, Irena most of all. At the hands of her own sire.
This is her revenge.
“Come on, princess,” Castor taunts, dancing on the balls of his feet with an arrogant smirk smacked across his face. “Just stay down. In fact, you can get on your knees if you like. Beg me prettily.” He’s lucky Drystan left the property. If he heard Castor talking shit to his sister, he’d be dead. Even if it is to motivate her. The man keeps a tight leash on her.
“Fuck you, Castor,” she spits at him.
Another arrogant smirk. “We can do that later if you want.” He winks at her. The small action sets her off, and she goes flying at him, her body a near blur. Over the years, I’ve tried helping her channel her visions so that she can learn to see things as they come at her instead of in her dreams or in trances. If Irena can hone her ability to foresee her opponents’ moves as they come, she will be undefeatable.
In theory.
It’s also something that Jedidiah won’t expect from her. So far, we haven’t had any luck with it. She’s managed to predict a few blows, but it takes a toll on her that she isn’t ready for. Irena, much like Drystan, relies too heavily on thinking about what comes next instead of feeling it. Vampires are instinctual creatures, but neither of them, despite their age, is in tune with that part of their being.
Meanwhile, Weylen and I are nothing but instinct. We were forced to rely on nothing but our instincts when we were newly turned. Weylen, because he rejected Drystan as his sire for the longest time, and me because, well, I had no other choice. The monsters who turned me did it for their own purposes.
They made me a weapon against my own kind. I did their bidding until my eyes were opened to what I’d truly become. They drilled into us that we were unique. That we retained our souls when we were turned, and that made us the perfect tool against others who were turned. We were told that other vampires had no souls. That they were nothing more than killers and murderers.
Drystan showed me the truth.
I was the monster. The corporation had made me into what they most despised, all for their own gain. Now, I’m free, but there are many who aren’t. Many who still follow the teachings of my old master and sire.
Javert.
“Concentrate, Irena,” I bark at her, my tone coming out harsher than I intend thanks to the painful memories resurfacing. “Don’t try to anticipate with your mind. Just feel. Close your eyes and let your instincts take over.”
Irena listens, her body stilling, muscles relaxing as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She’s fought before, in wars, but nothing like this. Even in wars, there are rules. Tools and allies at your disposal. In that ring, Irena will have nothing at all. Only her instincts and her training. Jedidiah knows by now that she has chosen to fight, and like her, he can see glimpses of the future. But his abilities are limited, whereas Irena has unlimited untapped potential. She’s stronger than him. Braver. He’s a coward who hides in the shadows and sends pawns to do his dirty work.
Jedidiah doesn’t inspire people to loyalty like Drystan. He inspires only fear. Of death. Of betrayal. Those who follow him don’t do it because they want to. Most of them, at least. He has many bigots who hang on his every word, but even they are bound to him by fear. Afraid to make him lash out at them for the slightest misdeed. I’ve seen it happen.
Castor grunts when his punch misses, and Irena drives a rough punch into his stomach. Her eyes sparkle at the hit, and it tells me exactly what I need to know. She predicted his move. Castor doesn’t give her time to glow in her small win before he’s on her. Irena closes her eyes again as he flashes toward her and lets her body take over.
She pivots and glides across the mat, ducking and blocking every punch and kick that comes her way. Irena is using her second sight to guide her, but also the instincts that come naturally with being a vampire. Instincts she’s denied over the years because she never wanted to become one. Unlike Drystan, she wasn’t given a choice, and I know he regrets that decision every day of his life. But looking at her now, as she matches Castor blow for blow, this is who she was meant to be.
No fate but what we make is the famous John Connor saying, and it applies here.
The more I step back and take a good, hard look at everything we’ve done over the last few centuries, the more I come to realize how we made the mess we are in now with Thalia. We created this path throughout the years, ignoring the warning signs. If it hadn’t been for Melissa, Thalia’s mother never would have run from us and into the arms of Sinclair.
We are the ones who initiated the chain of events that led us to this moment.
Weylen and I regret the steps we took to get here, but Drystan is always thinking about the greater good and not about what it will do to the one person who must sacrifice themselves for it to be done. With Melissa, she knew what she was getting into and the power it required, but she fooled us. Used our desire for her to twist the rug out from beneath our feet. The witch had us believing that she was our fated mate. The final piece to our triad. But she was nothing but a snake.
And we burned her for those sins.
