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CHAPTER ONE
Master Louis DuCane and his second, Ismael Patronne, sat together in the solarium, having a drink, looking at the stars, and discussing the distressful news from Pittsburgh.
“A hex, a real old-world hex?” Ismael was still processing the news.
Louis nodded. “Nik is in search of a charmer to discharge it. I’ve sent out notices throughout the country in search of such a creature, but I don’t hold out much hope one will be found.”
"I know that it was a former member of his Coven who cursed him a man named Nathan, who was the director of their IT department. I understand this is being taken as a personal vendetta, but it feels much more to me. It feels as if darkness is trying again to gain another hold on this realm. Darkness loves to feed off unhappy little men like Nathan." Ismael pondered. "My Easton knew him quite well. They'd worked together for several years. He was shocked by his behavior, saying that Nathan was always loyal and hard-working and never gave any sign of being influenced by the magics.”
“It’s hard to know what is going on in a person’s heart. Unless they are close family or friends, we see what they want us to see, and we accept it. It’s not until the unthinkable happens that we look back and see all the signs.” Louis drank his whiskey and stared out at the night sky.
“We should probably increase guards here at the Palace and beef up patrols of the city. No telling how far this thing might reach, and I’d prefer to be prepared.” Ismael suggested.
"Call in a few of our specialists from the field, Dante Heller from California, Draco Graves from Montana, and Rage Miller from Ohio, and include any others you see as appropriate. We will meet this thing head-on. Whatever is attacking Pittsburgh will eventually find its way here. It's just a matter of time. Magics multiply like a virus, and they will be emboldened by their temporary success in Pittsburgh." Louis took another sip of his drink.
Dante received the call late one night while he was eliminating a rogue vampire he’d tracked from a particularly unpleasant scene. The rogue lured an unsuspecting human into an isolated parking garage and drained the poor fellow.
The rogue was a leftover from the Hollywood coven the Black Knight dispatched a while ago. Dante was sent by Ismael to make sure the cleanup of that coven was complete, and he'd spent the last couple of years tracking them all down. Now he was being called home by Ismael who stated that the disease of magics was once again spreading. He wanted to mount a defense before their corrupt depravity reached the borders of Coven DuCane.
Dante had fought the magics before and was prepared to fight them again. There was nothing more conceited and self-aggrandizing than a magic. He looked forward to ridding the world of their evil. He messaged back, stating he would be at the Palace tomorrow evening. He cleaned up the area, disposed of the remains of the rogue and his victim, and then headed off to his hideaway to pack and catch the next flight to Michigan.
Skye Winters had been hitching rides north for over a month now, and so far, no one had bothered to follow him, but he wasn't going to relax just yet. The kindred were known for playing hateful, long, drawn-out games with people who escaped, and Skye would not stop looking over his shoulder for years, if ever.
One man was kidnapped and killed five years after running from the kindred. They let him get a job, wife, and family many states away from the cult, only to cut him down when the pain would be felt the deepest. It's likely his family has no idea what became of him.
Skye had no family that he was aware of, having lost his only living relation, his grandmother, at the age of twelve. Unfortunately for him, she fancied herself a witch and had joined the cult of the kindred a few years before her death.
She had a few moves but not enough power to raise her in the hierarchy, so when she died, Skye became a slave to one of the upper-level warlocks. They called them apprentices for show, but there was no apprenticing going on; it was only servitude twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
The worst part of it all was the beatings that occurred daily, weekly, or monthly depending upon the cruelty level of your Master, coupled with his need to overperform for his peers. The beatings always took place in public.
Apprentices who received daily beatings rarely survived more than ten months to a year, and those who were beaten weekly managed to hang on for sometimes up to two years or more but never over three. Those who were beaten monthly lasted the longest, but the beatings tended to be the most brutal of all. They were beaten sometimes near death but then had upwards of three weeks to recover before the next beating, which aided in their survival.
Skye was beaten monthly, and his Master, Adam, always put on a spectacular bloody show for his peers. Nothing was ever broken; it was all about the blood and how much blood they could spill before their apprentice was rendered unconscious.
The spectators made it so much worse. Most of the spectators were vampires who paid for the privilege of watching the brutality, and sometimes they were allowed to feed. Having people standing watching the violence and cheering it on was dehumanizing, which was probably the whole point.
He saw the exit for Mt. Pleasant coming up and knew the driver was stopping there for the night. Skye had worked his way from Scottsboro, Alabama, to Michigan by hitching rides with truckers. He stopped in various communities along the way and worked basic labor positions, which brought in enough money for him to survive. His plan was to make it to Michigan's Upper Peninsula.
“If you have the means to hang out here in Mt. Pleasant for a while, there are often truckers going north all the way to the Upper Peninsula toward the end of the month.” The trucker, George, told him.
"Thanks," Skye said and hopped out of the cab.
"Stay safe." George responded and headed off to deliver his load. Skye took his backpack and started walking, looking for a cheap motel. In the morning, he'd look for work.
"Hey, you there." Skye heard the man call out to him, but he was not going to stop. In his years of being in a constant state of self-preservation, he learned one thing for certain, and that was a disheveled man calling out to you from a dark corner in the night was not to be trusted.
“Don’t be like that.” He persisted. “I just want to get to know you. Come on I have a nice warm place we can go to.” He came upon him suddenly from behind, but Skye was ready, he was always ready.
The man was about to push a knife into his back, but Skye swung around and grabbed his wrist, twisting it sharply and planting a solid punch to the man's groin. He bent forward, and Skye hit him with an uppercut to the underside of his chin, effectively knocking him off his feet.
"I'm going to kill you for that." The man sputtered and coughed. Skye took the knife from where it had dropped to the ground and plunged it through the man's hand, hitting the sidewalk beneath his palm before pulling it out again. The man started squealing in pain and cupping his hand.
"You better go have that looked at; knife injuries are vulnerable to infection." The man stared wide-eyed at him for about two seconds and then ran away. The knife was cheap and rusted and not worth holding onto. He wiped it down and tossed it into a dumpster.
Dante arrived at the airport in Mt. Pleasant just after ten and rented a car to take him to the Palace. It had been a while since he'd been back to Mt. Pleasant, so he took a drive around town to check the changes and improvements. The town had changed somewhat; downtown was growing, and the outer edges were getting cleaned up, showing progress and positive growth.
The Zen Bar was still there and hadn’t changed much so he planned to hit that up along with the new place he noticed across from the Perry Hotel. It was posher than he usually appreciated but it was worth a visit. He loved a good dive bar and a nice club. They were great for letting off steam or for simply relaxing.
