11. 10

10

Thorne

Flashback…

I was just about to crack some eggs into the frying pan when I heard the familiar clink of glass on wood. Turning around, my gaze landed on Nox, who stood nonchalantly by the counter. The morning light streaming in through the window highlighted the intricate swirls of black ink tattoos that adorned his chest and arms. You wouldn’t know how many shirts this man owned based on how often he walked around without one.

He groaned, stretching his sleepy muscles high above his dark tousled bedhead. I quirked an eyebrow as Nox poured the bourbon with a carelessness that seemed to mock the early hour. His daylight ring tapped the glass bottle to the beat of a song.

“Isn’t it a little early to start drinking?” I chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter with my arms crossed, watching him.

“Never too early,” Nox retorted, the corner of his mouth lifting into that familiar half-smile.

The creak of the door announced Bastian’s entrance before he strolled into view. Put together as always in a silk button-up and slacks, he looked every bit the composed man he always was, even at this early hour.

“Victor wants to meet with us today,” Bastian said, his voice carrying a note of respect for the man who had turned him so many years ago.

Victor was more than just Bastian’s sire; he was a good man, a friend we had encountered from time to time over the long stretch of our lives. It had been a few months since we last saw him. We could use a visit.

“Let’s not keep the man waiting,” Nox said, voice as smooth as the liquor he was sipping on. "We can bring the good bourbon with us." he added, lifting the bottle with a lopsided smirk.

“Victor does appreciate the finer things,” I mused, pulling on my worn leather jacket.

“Well, let’s eat first, and then we can head over there. I’m starving. I stopped by the bank on the way home,” Bastian said as he set the little paper brown bag on the counter. He pulled out the vibrant pouches filled with our equivalent to a meal and tossed them our way.

He grabbed his own bag and sunk his fangs into it with the ease of someone popping open a soda can. I looked from the stove to the crimson pouch in my hand.

“Yeah, that does sound like a better breakfast today,” I admitted, setting aside the skillet. We hadn’t gone on a hunt in two days, and I was definitely feeling it. I was sure we all were.

We each took to our bags, sipping the rich contents dry and then tossing them in the trash bin.

“I’ll go get ready. Give me five minutes,” Nox said, heading for the stairs.

He was back down in three and went straight for his classic Camaro.

The car rolled to a stop over the gravel lot. An abandoned warehouse loomed before us, its silhouette jagged against the cloudy gray morning sky.

Its exterior was a patchwork of weathered bricks, crumbling concrete, and graffiti, with plenty of broken windows and rusted metal doors.

A quiet area, save for the occasional chirp of a distant bird or the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Weeds and wild grasses had taken root in the cracks of the pavement.

“Bastian, you sure this is the place?” I asked, leaning forward from the back seat.

“Yeah, it’s the right address,” Bastian replied, his voice steady.

“Kinda creepy?” Nox said.

I had to agree. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and pushed the car door open, the rusted hinges creaking in protest. Nox loved this old classic, but it still had its quirks.

“Alright, well, let’s go.” Nox said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s see what trouble we can get up to in there.” He started walking towards the warehouse, bottle in hand. “Sure knows how to pick a place with character, doesn’t he?”

“Character, yeah,” I mused. “And probably asbestos.” Our laughter was a brief reprieve from the unease that had started to bundle tightly in my chest.

We crossed the threshold through the open rusted door Bastian indicated he’d been instructed to use, stepping into the cavernous belly of the warehouse. The shadows stretched long and ominous.

“Victor?” Bastian’s voice echoed off the tall cement walls and old machinery as he glanced around the space.

“Over here, gentlemen,” Victor’s voice came from the shadows. The man was old, ancient even. It was never mentioned how old he was, and I doubted Bastian even knew. However old he was, he didn’t look it.

Victor emerged, his form materializing from the darkness like a demon conjured from hell. There was a smile on his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something seemed off , but we greeted him as we normally did.

“Victor, how have you been?” Bastian said, a slight weariness in his eyes as he pulled him into a one-armed hug. “What’s all this about?” He gestured to the surroundings with a sweeping motion. “Something wrong?”

“Never better, Bas,” Victor responded, his tone light, but there was a tension in the air now, crackling like static. “And no, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to set the scene for you boys. I have a proposition for you.”

We exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between us. The mood in the room was shifting, becoming something charged. Bastian looked to Nox and me for confirmation, and we gave subtle nods.

We stood united, whatever this was.

“Alright, yeah. Want to talk over a drink?” Bastian asked, his own way of diffusing whatever was brewing.

“We brought the good bourbon,” Nox offered, attempting to usher some normalcy into this bizarre interaction.

“That sounds excellent,” Victor replied, motioning toward a worn table surrounded by chairs that had seen better days.

The bourbon sloshed gently against the sides of the bottle as Nox uncorked it, the rich scent wafting to my nose and mingling with the mustiness of the abandoned warehouse.

It felt out of place here, like a drop of luxury amid decay.

Victor’s approving nod sent Nox into motion, pouring the amber liquid into glasses with a practiced hand, steady despite the unease gnawing around us. Nox settled back into his chair. The wood creaked beneath him.

“So, what’s going on?” Bastian asked carefully.

Victor took a seat, the light from a broken window catching in his dark eyes in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. “Well, I’ll go ahead and get straight to the point,” he began. “I’d love for you to join me.”

The way he said it, with an almost mischievous lilt, made my stomach twist uneasily.

He continued, “I think it’s time we rise, boys. Not just us, but all Vampires.”

Bastian’s hand halted, the liquid in his glass ceasing its dance. “What do you mean? There has been a balance for years. We are under no threat.” His voice was a low rumble.

The silence that followed Bastian’s question was heavy.

Nox leaned forward, the tattoos on his chest shifting with the movement. “Besides,” Nox’s voice cut through the tension. “Hunters have ensured that balance for as long as I can remember. Hell, not just them, but everyone agrees for the most part. Why disrupt something that works?”

Victor lifted his glass slowly. He took a deliberate sip—savoring it, while we sat with the sour taste of unease growing in our mouths. There was no rush in his movements, no sign that our words had disturbed the waters of his conviction.

“Yes, those things are true. But we could fight it. Go against it.” He leaned forward. “Think of the power we could have. All of us, you by my side,” he said, gesturing to us.

Bastian, ever the rock, shook his head with a finality that made my chest tighten. “Victor, no.” His voice was a soft growl. “We don’t want to be a part of this,” Bastian said, his gaze never leaving Victor’s.

The sense of betrayal that flickered in Victor’s eyes was something I felt clawing at my own insides. There was a time when telling Victor no would’ve been unthinkable, when loyalty wasn’t a word we used but something we lived, breathed, and bled for each other.

But this was something I knew none of us would tolerate.

The room felt colder then. A chill crept up my spine as Victor’s gaze locked onto us. “Well, that’s a shame, because unfortunately for you three, you don’t have a choice. You will obey me. ”

It was like a knife sliding effortlessly through the fabric of my mind. I couldn’t move, couldn’t pull my thoughts together to push back against the intrusion. My wants, my desires, my choice frayed at the edges, becoming distant echoes of themselves.

I was trapped beneath the surface of my own consciousness, clawing at the reflective barrier that kept me prisoner within my body.

Turning my head, I caught sight of Bastian and Nox, saw the struggle written plain across their faces as well. Bastian’s jaw clenched, a vein throbbing at his temple, while Nox’s eyes, usually so full of fire and defiance, were clouded over with something akin to confusion and pain.

“You see, I’ve been getting up there in age, and I realized something last week when I accidentally compelled Arthur… I’ve gained a new little ability,” Victor began, his voice like silk. “And I think I want to use it. No, I will use it… to wipe out this world. Vampires will be on top.”

His eyes held a glimmer of madness, drunk off more than the bourbon in his glass. On power.

How was this possible? Vampires couldn’t compel other vampires. It went against everything we knew. But vampires did get stronger with age.

“And you, my dear boys, all of you are going to help me do it,” Victor continued, oblivious or indifferent to the turmoil he caused within us.

There was a time when he had been like our mentor too. When we trusted him. But that shared trust now shattered like glass.

“First, I’m going to use you as my little guinea pigs.” He slowly rose from his chair and braced his palms against the table. “I’m going to send you on a little mission. You might think hunters keep the balance, but I see them as parasites. You’re going to watch the Velikas and report all of their movements to me, while I calculate my plans for execution.”

The Velikas were hunters renowned for their skill, ruthlessness, and brutality when challenged.

“I want to take down the hunters first; that way we’ll only have to worry about other monsters after that.” Victor’s smile was a gash in the darkness, all teeth and no warmth. “Right here, boys,”—he glanced around the abandoned warehouse—“is where it will all start. A headquarters, if you will. You might think it big now, but soon, it won’t contain even a fraction of the army I will create.

“I’ll start by making changelings. Use them with my compulsion. Learn how to control more than just a few vampires at a time.” His voice was almost contemplative, as if discussing the weather instead of subjugating our wills. “Even now I can feel your resistance, and I have to clamp down on it. But I’m sure with practice I’ll conquer your minds along with the minds of others.”

There was something sickeningly intimate about having someone inside your head, feeling them rummage through your thoughts and desires like they were flipping through an old magazine in a waiting room. It made my skin crawl how easily he shifted our wants to his.

His desire took root in me, as if it were my own. I knew I didn’t want to be a part of this, but I had no control over what I wanted to do. I couldn’t get up to leave.

“It’ll just take time. And as you know, Bastian, eternity gives you a lot of time to kill.” His chuckle reverberated through the decrepit room, bouncing off broken windows and settling like dust on my soul.

It was then that I truly understood the meaning of helplessness.