Bane's Choice (Vampire Motorcycle Club #1) - Alyssa Day Page 0,4
kill that son of a bitch Constantin and ship him back to England in a box. A small box,” she continued, wiping blood off her face. “Send a message.”
“A very, very small box,” Luke agreed, scowling. He had wounds of his own. His scalp was bleeding, and the explosion had driven a foot-long shard of wood into his shoulder. He yanked this out now with barely a grimace.
“For now, we need to deal with the humans and then regroup,” Bane said, wiping the blood from his own head wound out of his eyes. “Are you both okay?”
“We’re fine,” Meara said, dismissing his concern with a flick of her fingers. “But we need a new plan.”
“A better plan,” Bane said grimly, staring at the destruction around them. “Fucking necromancer. Next time, he may bring the dead against us, too.”
The thought of Savannah’s dead being reanimated and used as pawns in the Chamber’s twisted schemes felt like a punch to Bane’s throat.
“A much better plan.”
…
In the end, five of the formerly bloodthralled humans lay dead, but no more of Bane’s people had fallen since the accident on the road. The rest of the humans had collapsed into confused huddles when the warlocks died and the necromancer disappeared.
“You were lost in the swamp and ran into drug dealers who imprisoned you. Now, you’ll go home and tell everyone the details are too traumatic to share,” Bane ordered the thralls.
It was easy enough. Humans were always ready to believe an explanation that didn’t involve magic, the supernatural, or anything that stalked the dark. And it made sense to them; it was the reality of movies and television and therefore carried more truth than the reality of vampires, warlocks, or necromancers. In dark times, a palatable fiction reassured those unwilling or unable to believe a terrifying truth.
Sirens ripped through the air, the response to Luke’s call to 911. The authorities were near, and Bane wanted to be gone before they arrived. Meara and Luke flanked him at the edge of the bonfire they’d made of the cabin with the warlocks’ bodies within.
“We did not win this fight.” Bane stared at the fire. “Not even close. He was laughing at us.”
“That’s a problem for another night,” Meara said, her voice ice. “My saddlebags are filled with salt. These three, at least, will never regenerate.”
“And this park will recover from the stench of rot and decay, now that they’re gone,” Luke said. “Can you tell if there are more nearby?”
It wasn’t an unexpected question.
“I’ve already tried but found nothing.” But he tried again, sending his senses out to the surrounding area in search of life. He recoiled again at the wrongness of what he found. There were no living creatures within at least two square miles, beyond the former thralls, a few birds in flight, and some aquatic creatures in the waters around them. But then, just as he started to speak, a sign of hope soared through the clearing.
“A Golden Eagle,” Meara said, her voice reverent. “This is his home, and he’s back to reclaim it.”
“Just as Savannah is our home, and we’ll do the same,” Bane said.
Meara nodded. “Good always prevails over evil, in the end.”
“In the end,” Luke repeated bitterly. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? All the shit that happens before the end. I need a drink.” With that, he stalked off toward his bike, where he’d almost certainly stashed a bottle of tequila with the bags of salt.
“They’d think we were the evil, if they knew,” Meara said, staring at the humans. “And yet we protect them, again and again. What is the point, really?”
It wasn’t about the humans. He didn’t give a flying fuck about humans he didn’t even know. It was about protecting his territory. Keeping his club safe.
But when he turned to answer her, she was already gone.
…
Constantin, high in the trees and cloaked in shadows and power, stared at the final remaining vampire for several long moments before silently turning away.
Bane, indeed.
The vampire would learn the true meaning of the word when he died screaming.
Chapter Two
Three days later…
Luke Calhoun shoved open the door marked Club Members Only: This Means You, Shithead and walked into the ominously dark hallway behind the public front of the club. The next door he came to didn’t have a sign, but it had a state-of-the-art retinal scanner. Luke shoved his hair out of his face with the hand not holding his helmet and stared into the unblinking lens.