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  It was nearly dusk outside, the crickets barely whispering as the football goalposts turned a pale shade of yellow. Marcus sprinted towards the posts, one after the other, testing his strength and making sure he was fully recovered before he could venture beyond the protection of Calen High.

  I need to find the others.

  Even though his centuries’-old pride whispered at the back of his mind that he alone could take down an empire of hybrids, he remembered he was also the reason this was happening. It was his blood that gave birth to the malice that encompassed the city.

  It might not be directly, but he was responsible for everything.

  He couldn’t shake the thought that, without the Druids, they couldn’t have stood a chance against the hybrids a century before. He remembered how the Werewolves had fought alongside the Druids in the insurgence, a massive force he’d marveled at. Back then, it had seemed like the Vampires were actually holding everyone down. Marcus scowled at the memory. They’d been so helpless back then.

  As they were helpless now.

  The level of humiliation Adelaide had thrown upon his race enraged him.

  Never again.

  He leapt from the tall football bleachers, frowning as his eyes glowed a bloody shade of red. His movements were swift as he dashed across the field and left the temporary haven of Calen High. He roamed every street and every rooftop of every tower in Calen. And as his feet pounded the concrete of the streets, his eyes could still see his own Vampires glaring at him as he ran. Some tried to reach for him, and he slashed through them as if they were paper, ripping them apart with a sickening ease he took no comfort in.

  They’re not mine anymore. They’re compelled.

  Marcus searched many places before finally reaching the three towers where James Skolar had been. The dust seemed less dense here, and the green of the forests behind him glowed in the morning sun. His eyes were met by the flickering of red light on top of one of the roofs, a little underneath from where the sun was shining.

  He dashed into the building, and within seconds found himself crashing through the rooftop door. His feet crunched on the pebble-covered floor, his eyes catching sight of the destruction across the neighboring towers.

  There’s been a fight here.

  The ground to his right had been carved with a body that was missing, and his keen eyesight caught droplets of caked blood on the pebbles around. There were stains of blood at the right corner of the roof, and he caught a whiff of something pungent, something dark.

  From the corner of his eye, he caught movement.

  Marcus turned quickly, immediately ready for a fight, fangs stretched and craving to sink themselves in flesh. A few yards away his eyes fell on a body, motionless except for the rise and fall of labored breathing.

  Marcus relaxed, retracting his fangs as the harsh reality sunk in.

  Ryan Toller.

  Chapter 3

  Darian’s presence always demanded respect.

  As the leader of The Coven, one could not deny the power that seemed to ooze from him wherever he went. His slightly broad shoulders and piercing pale-blue eyes demanded attention, and always seemed attentive and assertive. His light-brown hair was sparse on the sides and stood up on the top of his head. His sideburns reached just under his earlobes; his beard a mere shade over his angular cheekbones. He was young, but the knowledge he possessed was well beyond his years.

  Before Raul had come in, Darian had gathered the eldest of the Druids in his region to discuss their interference with the conflict that had been raging in a small town in Armenia. The Vampires in the surrounding area had decided to assert their dominance and attacked, wiping out the entire town.

  Darian, obviously distressed over the issue, felt a need to send some of the Druids over to investigate and resolve the problem. And, if necessary, remain there to protect the town. The leaders he was meeting with were mostly in agreement with everything he was suggesting. However, they were reluctant to go there themselves and the matter was too small to require all of them to attend to it.

  Except Darian felt it a responsibility of his own to take even the most extreme measures to make sure the Vampires weren’t harming, let alone killing people The Coven was meant to be protecting. He made it a point to use instances like this to make an example of those who fell out of line. It wasn’t because of the responsibility of being the leader, which was to ensure the safety of the people, but more the nature of who Darian was. The combination of duty and the guilt had been passed down through the centuries, generation to generation, until it ran in his blood.

  Although only twenty, what he lacked in experience he made up for in knowledge that could be sensed from merely looking in his eyes. Darian’s wisdom exceeded that of men twice his age. The man knew how to think things through, and his insight to the others was never challenged—often—anymore. His young intelligence was incomprehensible to many.

  When Raul walked in, Darian immediately noticed the drop of sweat sitting on the man’s forehead. He could hear his friend’s heavy breathing disguised in the controlled slow pace that Raul tried to maintain.

  “Lost in the labyrinth again?” Darian asked, addressing his friend in a confident and comforting tone.

  “My memory of those doors is rusty,” Raul replied.

  “Well, welcome back, friend!” Darian said, pointing to the chair across from him, signaling for Raul to sit down.

  Raul gazed at the others and then back at Darian, his lips stretched in a slight smile. “Happy I’m back?”

  “Your disappearance made me fear the worst,” Darian responded.

  “I’m still around.” Raul smiled, but Darian didn’t miss the exhaustion in his friend’s eyes. “It was impossible... even miles around Calen, there was no way I could reach here. Our signals have been jammed.”

  Darian wasn’t surprised. “All right, gentlemen, shall we continue this meeting another time? I’d like a private word with Raul, here.”

  The leaders left with displeased looks on their faces. It was no secret they despised the fact that a man much younger than they, for some even half their age, was calling and dismissing them, ordering and disordering them whenever he wanted. However, they knew better than to act on their discontent. Darian knew that. They all recognized the power he possessed, and knew that, because he was the descendant of the former Coven, he was the only one fit to lead them.

  They left the room with Darian sitting across Raul. The formality dissipated the moment the door was closed and the friendship between the two showed. Darian got up and walked over to one of the paintings on his left, then slid it down from its frame. There was the classic safe behind the painting; however, this one didn’t hide any gold, but a bottle of wine and glasses.

  He brought the wine and sat closer to Raul. “A drink to celebrate your return, my friend.”

  “After what I’ve just seen, one bottle isn’t going to be enough,” Raul replied, his words followed with a sigh as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.

  Months before Darian had given Raul, a junior Druid, the task of tracking down the settlers in the west and mainly in America, to try to find out where the concentration of Vampires and Werewolves had settled. Raul had communicated with Darian many times during the long months of his journey. However, upon reaching Calen, all communication had been lost.

  The elders who had sat around the table had never heard of the city of Calen. The despair in Raul’s voice seemed unnecessary to all of them because the city was foreign. However, Darian knew Raul had come back to confirm what had troubled Darian’s mind for years.

  Darian was known to be a very patient man. Even after seeing the distress on Raul’s face, he didn’t ask for the news immediately. Rather, the two drank the wine and talked endlessly until Raul’s face softened and the harshness eased. Darian didn’t need to hear Raul’s story before attempting to find a solution. Rather, every small expression on Raul’s face was a sentence that s
poke to him on its own, and in response Darian had already begun planning his next step. As Raul was rambled on, Darian’s mind began working in a completely different direction.

  “All right, friend, it’s time,” Darian said. Raul immediately straightened in his seat and pushed his empty glass away. “What happen in Calen?” Darian asked.

  “Do you know James Skolar?” Raul replied.

  “I’ve heard of the Skolars. They were the leaders of the American Druids a long time ago. What about him?”

  “I found him when I reached Calen or, more specifically, he found me. Apparently, his is—was—the only remaining family of Druids there, and for the past century they’ve managed to live in complete harmony with both the Vampires and Werewolves.”

  “You said was the only family.” Darian noted the look on Raul’s face, and didn’t like it. Something wasn’t right.

  “That’s why I came rushing back,” replied Raul. “James Skolar is dead. His niece, the only remaining Druid, is nowhere to be found.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “and Calen is in ruins.”

  Darian’s pale blue eyes grew paler. This was not good. There had been no warning of what might happen. No one had asked for help. Had there been no time? “What happened?”

  Raul shook his head solemnly. “My friend, I was in the middle of it when it all happened. James told me about the insurgence that happened in Calen a century ago. He said the Werewolves were chained by the Vampires before the Druids arrived and set them free. However, between the two events, Adelaide the witch used the blood of the eldest Vampire, Marcus, to create a hybrid of both Vampire blood and wicked witchery. It—”

  “Did you say Adelaide?” Darian interrupted.

  “Yes, Adelaide.”

  Darian felt his hand ball into tight fists. “What happened in the insurgence? How did it end?”

  “Adelaide escaped when the Druids captured and locked the hybrids behind a door they built in a place called the Dome. Now, after they’ve managed to keep it closed for more than a century, the door has been opened, and the hybrids are out in Calen.” Raul continued talking about the story James had told him, but Darian’s mind drifted elsewhere. His thoughts were fixated on Adelaide.

  Finally, he thought. I have found you at last, Adelaide.

  Chapter 4

  Ryan lay with his face to one side, his black hair like the broken crown of a fallen king. His body was bruised and scarred. His clothes torn and barely covering his body. His pale face now possessed a slightly crooked nose, and his green irises were several shades darker, drowning in the pool of red that was fading through the whiteness ‘round his eyes.

  He lifted his head off the ground as Marcus approached, and though he was trying to stand up he failed to muster the strength to lift a bone from off the pebbles of the roof. It was as if he was drawn to the ground, as if he was being swallowed into the depths of the concrete that lay under the pebbles by some peculiar force of gravity that was alien to him. Ryan glanced down to his legs. At the knees, the lower half of his legs were just hanging, dangling like a piece of meat foreign to his body.

  “Marcus,” he uttered in something that sounded like a whisper, his voice barely audible, “Adelaide.” He tried to speak, but his words weren’t making their way through his rusty vocal chords.

  “Stay still,” Marcus said assertively as he knelt to examine Ryan’s lower limbs.

  There was a sudden crack and Ryan screamed out in a growl. It amplified through the forests and the lake behind them as Marcus corrected Ryan’s dislocated legs.

  “The full moon,” Ryan said as his breath was caught in the pain of his torn body.

  “When night falls,” Marcus replied, standing and looking at the faraway towers of the city.

  Ryan crawled toward the walls of the roof, dragging his legs behind him. He sat with his back to the wall and let out a sigh that came from the deepest parts of his soul. “Where’s Atlanta?” he asked as the memories came crawling back to him.

  “I thought you would have the answer to that question.” Marcus said quietly, and after a moment continued, “The Skolars are missing. They haven’t shown up since the beginning of all of this.” The Vampire turned to look at him.

  “Me?” Ryan asked in surprise. “Last I saw her, we were in the basement of her house, the night you apparently gave me a beating at the Dome.”

  “Of course you don’t remember,” Marcus replied, not in a scolding manner but more matter-of-fact. “It seems you’ve been compelled since then.” He tilted his head slightly. “That was months ago, Ryan.”

  Months ago? Impossible. And yet, somehow his body seemed to make more sense of it than his head.

  As night fell on the dreary roof of the building they sat on, the blazing full moon sat on the verge of taking its full form in the sky. Through their frustrated eyes, they watched the darkness take over the dust-swayed air of the city and swallow the pride of the daylight sky.

  Little did Ryan know that with the full moon, not only was his strength returning to his weary limbs and muscles, but also the memories that would haunt him for years to come.

  “What happened?” Marcus asked.

  Ryan was about to answer when his voice caught in his throat.

  At first, the memories appeared in his mind as flashes of a nightmare, blurry yet destined to be as animated as his own reflection in a mirror. The first memory was of his father’s murder. That morning when his compulsion first took form. He remembered how he ran out of the house, hearing the howls of his father, and then finding his father’s body lying in the grass, contaminated by the blue blood that encircled their backyard. Then came the hovering sounds of the hybrid that tore through Ryan’s own limbs, its claws still carrying stains of his father’s blood. There was the blur that followed; Skylar, or as the memories later whispered to him, Adelaide. He saw clearly how he was tossed into her wicked games like a stone thrown, just to sink into the depths of a darkened sea. His heart curled into itself in agony as he remembered kissing her in front of the one girl he knew he trusted. The one girl he would give anything to give his heart to.

  Atlanta.

  A whimper slipped through his lips. He wondered where she was. He gazed at the moon as it promised him more of the ugly story unfolding before his eyes. The flashes came like hurricanes storming into a broken city. He saw James’ face as he was pressing him against the floor of the roof that he now sat on, blade in hand. He saw the hesitation in James’ eyes, and he saw the last choice James made. The memory carried with it a scene that promised to haunt Ryan for years to come. James’ eyes telling him that by not piercing the knife into his chest, he was giving him the responsibility to protect his niece.

  It couldn’t be. Ryan felt he was too weak. He’d never be able to protect Atlanta the way James had. He felt incapable of even saving himself from the claws of the dust in the wind.

  He stared at the spot where Atlanta had fainted, her uncle’s death resting within her tear-stained eyes. He wondered what might have happened had he been stronger, more in control, more like his father. James would still be here. He sighed deeply and tried to stand. His now-restored legs carried him effortlessly, healed under the bright gaze of the full moon.

  There was no time to waste. He had to kill Adelaide and save a particular Druid from the witch’s claws.

  He looked at Marcus and his eyes burned. He began shifting, every bit of rage within him turning into tension in his own muscles. Every drop of blood shed because of him becoming a hair on his furry arms. His fangs elongated.

  He stared Marcus in the eyes, and with a deep growl said, “I have to find Atlanta.”

  Marcus reached out and rested his hand on Ryan’s broad shoulder. “We are going to find Atlanta.”

  Chapter 5

  The misty green shores of Lisbon emitted an aura of mystery. The moon hung in the purple sky, serenaded by the whispering of the breeze. Some moments the wind would blow roughly in an attempt to entertain the company of the sand w
ithin its carriage, and in other moments it would call from the depths of the sea for a bathing of the starlight.

  A stone arch bore down to the sea, its pillars immersed in the waters below. Darian sat on the edge of the arch in silence, looking out at the horizon. He saw the velvety purple sky and the sea merge as one, like two sets of fingers perfectly entwined. For him it didn’t resemble a specific desire or a metaphor of anything profound. Rather, the calmness of the ends of those forces of nature helped his mind sink deeper into contemplation.

  He and Raul had talked for hours in The Coven’s headquarters. Raul shared the details of his story with Darian like a musical piece that escalated perfectly into climaxes of horror. The fall of Calen was not only a matter of a faraway city that fell to an alien form of supernatural hybrids, but a threat to every corner of the world. What was worse than the idea of a much more powerful form of Vampires and Witches was that they were all under the control of someone whose malicious mind was not foreign to Darian.

  On the contrary; he knew it very well, and in the depths of his heart he both feared and longed to encounter it.

  Darian sent Raul to America to retrace the steps of the settlements of Vampires and Werewolves. But Darian was looking for something different. He wanted to find a specific evil that he knew was lurking somewhere in the distant continent.

  Years before that the same evil had been a visitor in his own city, and though insignificant damage had been done it had left with one success: it had taken away Darian’s mother. To him, it was but a foggy memory that hid in the core of his subconscious mind. Sometimes the nightmares would bring him scenes of the day when he saw the dark green mist surrounding the witch, her back to him as his mother uttered her last scream.