Born of the Shade Page 2

  “I’m sorry, Leo. It’s the blue moon. I didn’t know,” pleaded Lawrez.

  The Zodiac King shook his head, “That seems to be everyone’s excuse today.”

  “If those clouds clear, there will be anarchy! I have to do something.”

  “What do you suppose I should do? Let you go unpunished?” scoffed Leo. “Is it not your job to maintain order within your pack?”

  “Had I known, I would have never let this happen. The Lycanaid seems to be helping. Perhaps if we double the dosage it will cancel out the effects.”

  “And what of your punishment?” asked Leo, cocking his head to the side.

  “Can it wait? The wolves will go into a frenzy if I don’t get out there.”

  “I’ve met with your father. The old wolf has set your nephew to the task.”

  “Praise Fenrir,” said Lawrez, pressing his hand to his chest. “If you’ve dealt with the problem, why are you here?”

  “You howled like a new-born pup. I was on my way to meet with the vampiric monarch when I heard your feeble cry.”

  “You’re here just to hand me an infraction?”

  “I’m here to punish you. Weren’t you listening?” Leo ended his words with a fiendish grin.

  As one of twelve Zodiac Kings and queens, Leo had many responsibilities, although none of those responsibilities called for the platinum- and leather-honed man to dole out punishments. However, Leo did enjoy punishing the leaders of the supernatural societies. If asked, he would say it was because he had to make examples of those who would think themselves above the law. In reality, he just took pleasure in the strong succumbing to his will.

  “What now?” asked Lawrez, feeling an awkward tension grasping the pain centres of his mind.

  “Usually this would be where you make some sort of excuse in the hopes of escaping the pain of punishment.”

  Breathing heavily through his indignation, Lawrez gritted his teeth. “I wouldn’t even be out here if it wasn’t for your brother. If he hadn’t agreed to meet me, I’d be at home sorting out this mess.” He felt something stir within him. “A mess that he failed to warn us of.” He could feel his emotions leave the clutches of his control.

  “Which brother would that be?” asked Leo through a look that could melt ice.

  “Noir! He’s the one in charge of sensitive information within our order.” Like a helium balloon that had escaped the grasp of its young owner, Lawrez’s control floated away on the cold breeze of the night’s dark sky. “Did you hear him mention the blue moon in the last meeting? No, you didn’t, did you? He is the one who has caused this problem and he is the one who has failed to rectify his actions.”

  Leo took in Lawrez’s words through gritted teeth. The disrespect was almost too much for him to take. He felt a tear in his pride and wanted blood, but the werewolf that stood before him was right. If Noir had done his job, this problem wouldn’t have reared its ugly head. Words would have to be spoken. Noir would have to be dealt with, but he pondered, did he have to give out an infraction to his little brother? No, he decided, he’d just tell him off. It was a simple mistake; Noir probably had other things on his mind.

  Leo ignored Lawrez for a time while he looked around. The Zodiac King strained his mind. His arms rose from his sides and his palms faced the sky. His body shook as his muscles clenched. Harder and harder Leo strained until his eyes glowed a bright yellow and his face formed into something almost animalistic.

  The sight was startling, and Lawrez could sense the anger wash over the Zodiac King. It was pure rage. Something he had never felt before. He wanted to ask what was happening, but the words just wouldn’t release themselves. Instead, they remained caught in the back of his throat, held back in the quivering grip of fear. Leo’s eyes fell upon Lawrez as their yellow glow faded, and at that moment the wolf wasn’t sure if he was going to make it out alive, but to his relief and surprise, in an instant Leo’s form fell to one of subtle pacifism.

  “Nothing,” spoke Leo, tightening his lips.

  “Nothing?” asked the worried wolf.

  Leo bit his bottom lip in thought and sighed. “The brat’s masking his aura.”

  Leo’s frustration billowed out of him in a fascinating assortment of scents. It was almost too much for Lawrez to handle. A werewolf can pick up the scent of many emotions. The stronger the emotion, the stronger the scent and the scent of Leo’s frustration was almost mind-numbing. Just then a bright blue beam shot through the rain-bearing clouds. Both men looked up at it. Leo felt uneasy at the sight of the full blue moon releasing its power, whereas Lawrez felt something much more.

  Leo’s gaze met Lawrez, watching as the man began a slow step back, holding his head and straining with apparent agony. Leo had seen this before and knew what was coming. Lawrez couldn’t take it; there was power coursing through his entire being; a power he had never felt before. It was painstakingly beautiful, a feeling of torturous pleasure. At that moment he felt at his strongest, stronger than anything in the world, but at the same time he felt vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, the pain dispersed and all he could feel was rage. Leo watched the wolf’s eyes go from a bright and vivid electric blue to a dark almost black, navy blue.

  Lawrez’s body began an agonizing transformation. His skin stretched and tore, muscle mass tripled, bones cracked as his frame expanded. Thick bristled hair grew from every pore, and his eyes became bloodshot. His jaw lengthened to reveal big meat-ready fangs extending from his mouth. Minutes passed during the transformation.

  Leo stood watching the transition from man to beast. Lawrez’s new form was staggering. He stood three feet taller and two feet wider. His face was a mixture of demon and majesty. What stood hunching menacingly before Leo was neither man nor beast, but a combination of both; it was a werewolf.

  Leo flung his leather jacket to the floor, revealing his own monstrous figure and a sheathed long sword on his right hip. Lawrez stalked forward, as did Leo, and the two then locked in a clinch. Lawrez’s claws scraped the rare metal of Leo’s gauntlets. The sheer force of the two superhumans was enough to dent the earth beneath their feet.

  They pushed, muscles flexed. Lawrez growled, Leo roared. Neither man gave ground, nor did he weaken. Lawrez, still bound in the clinch, leapt and threw both legs towards Leo, pounding and slashing the king’s stomach with his razor-clawed feet. The impact was immense but not enough to hinder Leo. The Zodiac King retaliated with a wrenching pull that whisked Lawrez from the air. Gripping the wolf tightly, Leo twisted and flipped his body, sending him swiftly careering to the ground headfirst, causing mud and grass to burst upwards as if a landmine had just been triggered.

  Although both brawlers had been hit hard, there was no reduction in their fighting spirit. Leo gained a vertical stance and was instantly gored by the furious Lawrez. Again, the two became clinched, this time with Lawrez’s claws scraping Leo’s Teflon-like skin, his jaws locked firmly upon the King’s waist. Leo felt for the lion’s-head pummel of his long sword and gritted his teeth. The wolf had yet to cause any damage but soon the pressure of his ferocious bite would allow those fearsome fangs to break skin. If that happened, he would have no choice but to kill the man his younger brothers called family.

  Lawrez could feel the armour-like skin weakening; he gyrated his jaw, but nothing. He applied more pressure, still nothing. He continued again and again, biting down harder, applying more pressure and grinding his jaw, driven only by the infectious bloodlust. Something. The metallic taste, the warmth, thick and wet. The blood he wanted. The blood he needed. Lawrez flicked his tongue over the fresh wound he had created before pressing his teeth deeper into Leo’s flesh.

  Feeling the jarring pain of the bite, Leo grabbed hold of the grip of his long sword and with one thrust, plunged it deep into the shoulder of the beast. With a yelp and with the sword still embedded, Lawrez clambered backwards. Leo rushed to his jacket and pulled out a clear pouch of small white pills. Lawrez staggered and stumbled. Steaming hot blood matted
his new fur coat. With a hard and painful yank, he pulled the Zodiac’s long sword out of his shoulder and threw it to the ground. His wound healed as he took back his hunched stalking position.

  Leo was up with the pouch in his hand. He waited for the frenzied wolf to make his move. There was no fear in the man. The gangling figure of Lawrez stood perfectly still, watching him, calculating his approach. Leo braced, and in an instant the wolf was on him. Once again Lawrez went for the gore but Leo knelt and gripped his fur. With a forceful flip Leo brought the two of them to the ground.

  With Leo on top of him Lawrez gnashed and struggled to be free but the Zodiac King held him in place. He tasted the cold metal of Leo’s gauntlet pressing on his tongue as the man pulled his canine jaw open. Something was forced down his throat. He swallowed. Lawrez's stomach turned, stopped and somersaulted within him. An icy shock travelled through his body and numbed him. Fully paralysed, Lawrez watched through hazed eyes as Leo first took up his sword, then donned his leather jacket. It looked as though Leo was skipping through time, but the truth was that each blink of Lawrez's heavy eyes made the scene last a second longer.

  Leo stood above Lawrez's beaten werewolf form, pride glistening with the mixed moisture of sweat and cloud spittle on his hairless head. A devilish grin decorated the zodiac’s face as Lawrez closed his eyes tightly. The wolf was unconscious. His body steamed in the wet winter’s air. Slowly Lawrez's form shrank, the fur that covered his body retracted until what lay before Leo was but a man, naked and wet.

  Minutes passed and Lawrez opened his eyes to the sight of a grinning Leo above him. That grin. That demeaning careless grin. It was a thing that family wore with pride. He struggled to move, and Leo laughed. He felt his strength returning, slow, too slow. Leo offered a hand to help his fallen opponent rise. The hand was taken and the naked Lawrez stood weakly.

  “That was a good fight!” cheered Leo through his unwavering grin.

  “Good? I could have killed you!”

  “And I should have killed you. I would have if you weren't so close to my brothers.” Leo looked Lawrez up and down; his face was one of utter amusement. “I won't give you an infraction for that. I enjoyed it too much.”

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” asked Lawrez.

  “You’re naked, mate. Really naked.”

  “I am? I hadn't noticed.”

  “Want me to send you home?”

  “Could you?”

  Leo held out an arm and from the tip of a platinum claw, a silver droplet of something not entirely liquid dripped onto the floor beneath Lawrez's feet. The droplet spread and formed a circle. The circle shone bright and before Lawrez could realise his bad fortune, he fell through the ground. Leo clenched his clawed gauntlet and the circle dissipated. With his habitual grin Leo looked up to the night sky. Feeling the drizzle of the rain, his eyes glowed a vivid yellow. A minuscule ball of rain fell from the sky and silently hurtled down in Leo’s direction, and by the time the ball had reached the Zodiac King, he was gone.

  Chapter 3

  The Broadway was bustling with the sound of drunkards and car engines. A loud and unruly queue was forming outside 109, an underground club open from dusk till dawn. On the main floor it seemed like a normal nightclub; students at the bar using straws to shoot weak alcohol down their throats, women on the dance floor moving slightly off beat while their partners tried to synchronize behind them, and groups sitting in the many booths, pouring overpriced bottles of liquor into glasses filled with ice.

  Sitting in a VIP booth was a bleached-blonde woman with a tan one could only obtain through the exchange of cash, and a pair of breasts that would draw a man’s attention like a moth to a fly zapper. Sitting with her was a much more elegantly featured brunette, whose face resembled a portrait of the Madonna, while her soft jade eyes complimented her peach pink lips. The blonde cackled as she showed the brunette a few pictures from the online dating app on her phone.

  “And then he bit me,” laughed the blonde.

  The brunette winced at the thought. “He bit you? What a freak.”

  “It hurt but I kinda liked it,” said the blonde, circling the rim of her glass.

  “You’re the worst,” the brunette blushed.

  “I know, right.” The blonde closed her eyes and shivered with reminiscent excitement. “He was amazing,” she sighed passionately.

  “I hope his friend’s not a biter,” laughed the brunette sheepishly.

  “I guess you'll find out, they'll be here soon.”

  By now the loud chattering queue had at least doubled in length. With the doormen being very selective about who they let in, it seemed as though the would-be clubbers had a long night of waiting ahead of them.

  The joyous and somewhat impatient chatter became scornful whispers as two men walked past the queue and stood with the doormen just looking over the crowd and laughing. One of the men had style; he wore a black tailored suit worth a small fortune, with an off-white shirt and a scarlet tie. The man looked as though the concept of poverty had never crossed his mind. His wing-tipped shoes shone as if they’d been made that very night, and the red glint of his ruby-encrusted cufflinks would draw the eye of any lady whose hand he would take. He had a pale complexion and was short in stature. His build looked like that of a man who didn't lift his fingers often, and he spoke with a soft voice, the type of soft voice that people would do their best to listen to.

  His companion had equal style but wore it awkwardly. His Armani vest suit stretched across his muscular back, while the buttons looked ready to pop. His fitted trousers seemed to become smaller as they made their way up from his scuffed Italian shoes. This man didn't care much for appearance; you could tell by looking at him he had more pressing issues. His sleeves were rolled up and the first four buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a tattoo of an odd alphabetic figure, slightly resembling Arabic calligraphy. His skin was pale but tough, and a copper beard, styled in a way that said this man is important, hid most of his face.

  The doorman unclipped the velvet rope and bowed as he ushered them into the club. The crowd recognised the importance of the two men and replaced their scorn with admiration.

  Making their way through the club, the staff replicated the respect the men were shown at the entrance. The bulky man turned to his companion and pointed to the booth holding the girls.

  “You ready, Ashel? These girls are models, you know, and with the purest blood you can imagine,” said the bulky one excitedly.

  “Really, Banhier? I hate to doubt my own brother, but I haven't tasted purity since the humans introduced the media,” sighed Ashel.

  “Brother, have I ever let you down?” laughed Banhier.

  “There was that time with the Elven survivors,” said Ashel with a sneer.

  Banhier had an addictive personality and the effects of Elven blood were as much a rush as freefalling from the depths of space into a lake of liquid heroin. It didn’t just consume you. It opened your mind and closed your eyes. There was a time when Elven blood had been as common as animal blood. This was when the Elves ruled the land now inhabited by humans, but countless wars and the displacement of territories, mixed with a little divine intervention, left the Elven race near extinction.

  Due to the addictive properties of Elven blood, the endangered race were kept and bred by Ashel and his kin long ago. Until one fateful day in which the extinction of the Elves took around twenty minutes and left Banhier venturing on a spiritual journey in a dark corner of a blood distillation plant.

  “That was three hundred years ago,” said the mortified Banhier.

  “And it took two hundred years to develop a drug equal to E.B.,” Ashel said, extending his arm towards a busy barman who instantly focused his attention on them. Ashel then ordered him to approach with the use of two fingers. The barman, who was halfway through pouring a pint, placed it onto the bar in front of his patron and apologised before rushing towards Ashel.

  “You do enjoy the a
ttention, don't you, brother?” laughed Banhier.

  “There are perks to a monarchy,” replied Ashel, with a subtle smile perched upon the corner of his lips as the barman bowed diligently.

  “How can I serve Your Majesty?” asked the trembling barman.

  “A bottle of the finest champagne shall be poured into four of the finest crystal glasses you have as we take a seat, and you will cater to our needs and to the needs of our guests for the remainder of our visit,” ordered Banhier.

  The blonde was already quite tipsy when the barman arrived. She watched him placing the shining crystal glasses on the table and lifted one to examine closely. “I didn't know this place did silver service,” she giggled.

  “Only for the most influential of guests, Ma'am,” stated the barman tentatively.

  The brunette saw the pride of service in the barman's eyes, but she also recognised the gleam of fear produced by the sweat glands on his forehead. This worried her. “May I ask, exactly how ‘influential’ are our companions?” she asked. The barman noted the two small, almost faded incisions on the blonde’s neck and knew the truth was something his tongue was forbidden to tell. “Extremely,” he replied with a bow.

  Banhier slid up next to the blonde, and the barman began to pour the champagne, mindful that Ashel had yet to take his seat. The blonde took a glass to her lips and sipped with a blush as Banhier's hand reached for her thigh. Ashel took a seat next to the brunette and sat awkwardly, awaiting an introduction. The blonde replaced the glass with Banhier's neck as his hand was placed in a more intimate position.

  “Ahem, my Prince?” whispered the barman.

  Banhier ignored the barman as he enjoyed his guest. The brunette's eyes turned towards Ashel, who lifted his glass in embarrassment. “I guess I’ll introduce myself then.”

  The brunette smiled, noticing Ashel's contempt towards his brother’s public display of affection, and placed her hand in his. Ashel followed the courtship principles of his kin by raising the back of Angela's delicate hand to his lips and pressing gently on her smooth skin. “Ashel, my dear,” he said with a soft voice as warm as the young woman’s touch.