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“Ah … perhaps witches? More likely the descendants of those who burned them,” Thorn guessed. “Do you remember any symbols?”
“No. Sorry.” Cassia shook her head. “It all happened pretty quickly that night.”
“Alpha. I’m about to ask for your trust in this situation. I must place my palm onto her head.”
“Thorn … no,” Julian refused.
“I swear on my soul … what’s left of my soul anyway that I will not harm her. I just want to jar her memory a tad.”
“Jesus.” Julian shook his head.
“No, it’s okay,” Cassia insisted. “I think I’ve blocked it. I ran out of there so fast. If there’s something that I can’t remember that will help us, I want to remember it.”
She squeezed Julian’s hand and released it, and stood. Thorn stood as well and approached her in a slow, deliberate manner. Towering above her, he touched his fingers to her forehead for several seconds and returned to his seat.
“Are you okay?” Julian asked.
“Yeah, I mean I don’t feel any different.” Cassia sat down.
“Try again, dearest. Close your eyes and picture that night, the room … I must know if you see anything at all.”
Julian reached for her hand and released his power. We see together.
Through her eyes, the great room came into view. Nearly fifty people milled about inside. Dressed in tuxedos and gowns, they wore black ribbon masks and sipped flutes with blood. Cassia’s fear jolted through him as she wandered the room.
A barefoot butler dressed in a red velvet thong and bow tie poured blood from a phallic-shaped decanter. Cassia stopped as a blonde woman approached her.
“I am Sophia Preston.” The woman extended her hand to Cassia. An amulet hung from her neck, a twinkling silver circle, inside it, a reversed pentagram. Her cold clammy hands matched her icy smile that didn’t quite match her eyes.
In Cassia’s peripheral vision, a dead woman lay on a stone altar facing north. With her throat slit, her blood drained into a copper bowl. A swath of blood trailed across the floor to the back of the home as if they’d drug several bodies across it. She looked to her blood-splattered shoes and screamed.
“Cassia,’ Julian called to her, jarring her from the memory.
“Jesus.” Cassia blew out a breath and took a sip of her tea. “Sophia Preston. They were draining humans and drinking blood.”
“Preston,” Thorn repeated. “Normally, I wouldn’t jump to conclusions, but it’s she’s likely from the lineage of the Prestons of the UK … perhaps one going back into the 1600s. Witch trials in England and so forth.”
“She didn’t strike me as witch,” Cassia replied.
“Oh darling. She’s not the witch. She’s far worse than anyone who was ever hung. She’s an accuser. The worst, vile type of human, hate is buried deep in their souls, in their DNA. They may not be called demons but that doesn’t keep them from being demonic.”
“So can we talk about the vessel?” Julian pressed, growing impatient with Thorn’s tangent.
“Yes, of course, and this will require no compensation given that we all have a stake in resolving this matter.” Thorn brought the teacup to his lips. “In full disclosure, I spend as much time in the earthly realm as possible. I know what I am. Yet like many of you, we are created this way, not because we asked for it or deserved it. And so while I may have been raised in Hell, my future will remain in this realm.”
“The vessel,” Julian repeated attempting to keep his focus on task.
“The vessel is a release. It is a secret indeed. Because these hellhounds came to the chameleon, they’re possibly drawn to her ability to change, her psychic abilities but also the hellfire of her origins, of your origin as well, Alpha. No one is infallible or truly immortal. Where there is a will, there is a way to death. But sometimes there is a fate far worse than death … to be transformed into a servant of the devil or to another who uses you for its bidding. It has long been suspected the hellhounds weren’t all born as hounds, a true beast of evil for Satan. This is one of the secrets of Hell.”
“Is it a spell?” Julian asked.
“Is there a way to draw them out, to free them?” Cassia asked. “It’s heartbreaking to think someone is doing this to them.”
“Yes, it’s a spell of sorts. But not brought upon by a witch necessarily. But the right demon could conjure the change. It’s difficult to know for certain, but if one was looking to build both an army of hellhounds and human minions for his bidding on Earth, this would be a clever way to do it. I cannot be certain in this case, however.” Thorn held up a finger. “This brings us to the secret. The vessel. There are rumors. I do recall one that enables the owner of the item to break the indenture. I don’t know what the object is, but you and your mate may be the conduit.”
“So we find the vessel and then use this object to change them?”
“If they came to you in a vision, they will come to you once you have it,” Thorn told her. “But I am only speculating, dear ones.”
