'You must be Alpha Claire in the flesh! I'm a huge fan.'
I give a level, dead stare to the intruder, but, you know, not everyone has a sense of respect for personal spaces. No matter that they may be decades of centuries old.
The intruder, wearing a bleak, black outfit like a funeral attendant, proceeds to bow in a false flourish. 'It is my dignified pleasure. I am Wilhelm—'
'Wade,' I finish for him dryly. 'AKA the Vampire of Vanishing.'
Wilhelm can't help gaping at me, 'So they are true, the rumours.'
'You have heard the saying, "Don't believe everything you hear", right?'
'They say the White lives on in a commoner,' he breathes in awe and admiration.
His interest makes me a little pukish, independent of—and yet all the more dependent on—the fact that he is a vampire. 'Well, that, as much, is true,' I wince. 'But I am no alpha.'
'Not yet, you mean,' the vampire of vanishing grins in delight, but his fangs look horribly wicked, which only adds a touch of horror to his excitement.
You can say that hitherto, I have been guiltless of any crime. Everything up to this point has been the actions of Dean or Vanessa or Olligrander. But fraternizing with one of the most wanted vampires in the werewolf world, Wilhelm Wade—the vampire of vanishing, is my first real crime.
I wasn't supposed to recognize Wilhelm. We have never met. By recognizing him though, I proved that I have inherited Vanessa's memories and telepathy.
Also, being the vampire of vanishing, you don't sense Wilhelm coming. It is only standard protocol to be caught unawares by him.
I sigh. 'What do you want?'
'The only permanent thing, Claire: change.'
I frown, rifling through Wilhelm's thoughts as he practically hurls them at me to be read. 'You want me, a werewolf, to ally myself with the Court of Count Dracula,' I say emotionlessly, beyond shock.
Wilhelm spreads his hands magnanimously. 'Brilliant, brilliant idea really, eh?' He winks.
It must be a bad attempt at a joke by the universe that I have to deal with Wilhelm Wade when everything seems to be going right by going wrong. I have worried enough the last month since Vanessa died that my head should be twice its normal size and macrocephalic at this point.
'Slightly brilliant perhaps. But definitely bloody,' I wince, rubbing my temples. 'I am in enough mess as it is. I see no reason to make my life any more difficult by siding with the Court of leeches.'
The Court of Count Dracula, or just simply the Court of the Count, is an ancient group of powerful vampires; no different from the Imperials of the werewolf world. Just as shrouded in mystery and legend, the Court has been on conflicting terms with the Imperials, arguably on more occasions than I have blinked my eyelids.
The natural enemies of werewolves are vampires, of course.
But Wilhelm Wade is a complicated individual. He is a fourth cousin removed from Rufus, a distant relation of the Imperial huntsman. Rufus and Wade even look alike, tall and reedy and creepy in their night-black outfits.
Where Rufus looks well-complexioned like a proper mixed European heritage, Wade has a lifeless, porcelain ceramic hue. Did I mention revolting too?—insert puke here. Except my Olligrander traits seem to be making Wilhelm Wade's presence a little rosier.
Wade was born a third-generation sickly human in a reputable family of wolves, so he was quite the black sheep. He perhaps even had it worse than Mason did. Driven by ambition and resentment, and every other intense emotion one could expect in Wilhelm's shoes, he had sought out the Court of the Count himself. And had been made a bloodsucker.
Only Wade's wolf heritage makes him a weak vampire—what would you expect?—but with the perk of being able to teleport between shadows. And hence, his title as the Vampire of Vanishing.
'The Imperials hate change, Alpha Claire. And once, the Court was no better. But the world has changed! Dean has been one to prove it. There is so much that your petty little science can do to either add or subtract from us,' he says with an air of awe. 'The Court of Count Dracula have opened their eyes to all the possibilities. We, little matter being vampires, are having half-human children born to us these days—and a beautiful, touching nitbit of news that is.
'The Court has seen everything, Alpha Claire. We have talent on our side too, you see, and we have seen that an alliance with werewolves is not only possible; it's an inevitable next step. It's just only impossible with the werewolf ruling class as they are.
'So do you see, child of Olligranders,' Wilhelm continues, 'whose eyesight are unparalleled among wolves, that the Imperials as they currently are need to go? Or at least be forced to change? Do you see?'
I gasp, 'This is utter treason, Wilhelm. The Lycaones will commission a ceremonial robe of our skins as a deterrent to others!' Catching a whiff of his thought after, I groan, 'No, it doesn't make it better that your skin is like glass and cannot be made into a robe, because mine can!'
I can feel my pulse behind my eyes, and the hair on the nape of my neck have stiff erections. 'This conversation will still be treasonous even after five centuries have passed,' I hiss in fear.
Wilhelm grins extra evilly at my discomfort. He is a vampire already: he can't be any more an enemy of the Imperials; heck, his being originally of werewolf descent—and plotting the Imperials downfall now—would only be bonuses for his future execution.
But me? I like my head where it belongs on my spine.
I hop off the tree branch. It is the same branch that Mason lifted me on that evening of our fiery kissing; before Dean carried Vanessa to a government research lab and to the arms of a Doctor Simone, before all this bird poop and talks of treason came raining on our heads.
Hoping the sensationally sweet memory of that pure evening with Mason would keep the worries at bay, I had come. Just to have Wilhelm Wizarding Wade show up and worsen my worries for me.
With sarcasm, I say to him,'Thank you, Wilhelm, for sharing your plans. I promise not to consider them. Also, let's agree never to do this ever again.' I grab my backpack; a finger of tree branch has been holding it up for me; to take my leave.
The vampire of vanishing merely sighs and smiles in a most dramatic fashion. 'The Imperials will not accept you, Claire. They never accept change, especially if it is unknown, likely to be beyond their control, and a perceived threat.' His words have a weight of remembered pain pushing them.
'I don't think I want to take my chances with the Court either,' I quip instead. 'I figure someone with all my bloodline abilities will always be nothing but a friendly foe to the Court. So no. Tell them I said Hi. And if you see Count Dracula himself, tell him I said No love lost here.'
I bound off.
Wilhelm hurls his thoughts after me. He has some experience with Vanessa and her telepathy, so he projects his thoughts with great precision.
Some level of intentionality seems to be a prerequisite, which Vanessa's telepathy—now mine—responds to. I may only just be coming into my telepathy, but Wilhelm is showing me that I can walk out of a conversation and still hear the speaker's projected thoughts, like using a walkie-talkie.
If you tried to connect your mind to my telepathy intentionally, like Wilhelm is doing, the gift automatically activates and links your thoughts; so I promptly start learning how to tune Wilhelm— and any who may come after him—out.
When Wilhelm steps into the shadows behind me and vanishes, I know of it. He is now gone, so I slow to a walk. Curse the vampire of vanishing because, before wizarding himself back to the Himalayas or wherever he crawled out from, he convinced me of my uniqueness.
I am Claire Benning, a gorgeous girl and werewolf, heiress to three ancient bloodlines and their abilities, so that I have the strengths of all and the weaknesses of none.
Frankly, although my powers are still growing and I may never come into the full power of an Elderwood or Olligrander or White; I have the potential to be so much more.
Wilhelm had mentioned that I never have to worry about the Whites' curse: the inexplicable cause for the Whites' deaths as their telepathic powers grew, since I have the Elderwood lifeline, lycan-like in itself—as deep as the seas, to balance out their curse.
But the Elderwood family, despite being a family of alphas—or maybe exactly because of it—have a problem disobeying lycan authority, or any authority naturally above theirs. 'A lycan-butt-kissing trait', Olligrander calls it. 'When the lycans say "Bark!", the Elderwoofs woof the loudest.'
Families like the Elderwoods are loyal to a fault, the virtue having being ingrained in them for millennia hither. These families are the least likely to question lycans. But having unpredictable Olligrander traits balances that out.
It's a synergistic potentiation: one power an equilibriant of the other two, polishing down their weaknesses and affecting how they all manifest as a whole.
No, the lycans will widen their eyes enough to pop when they see me, and upturn their snouts from disgust and for 'justice'. They can't accept me.
Since we—Wilhelm Wade and I—are experimenting with my telepathy, I curiously reach out with the power.
And Lauren's mind instantly welcomes mine as I seek her.
Her mocking smile accosts me. 'Looking for me, White?' She asks.
It takes no time for me to realize that Lauren is at the spot I just left, where I kissed Mason, where I just broke off an unforeseen talk with Wilhelm Wade. And Lauren's eyes have discerned all the secrets.
'So you are in league with Wilhelm?' She projects from her mind to mine with curiosity, confusion, then glee.
Bone-chilling glee.
'It might tickle your tiny brain to know that I have orders from the Imperials to track down Thomas Olligrander and Wilhelm Wade to bring them in for judgement. But I'd be happy to tell them that, not only do you share Olligrander's rebellious and uncouth tendencies, you are also actually a spy for vampires, for the Court of the Count.'
Phrased like that…merciful heavens!
Lauren is the lycan Imperial tracker that both Wilhelm and Thomas Olligrander are running from, a chase of centuries. Now, Lauren has a weapon she will use against me.
'I don't mind tracking you down too, to bring you in for judgement,' Lauren cackles like a queen hyena, excited by the prospect of following a blood trail.
Lauren is desecrating by her mere presence the precious memory of my hallowed spot with Mason. I want to scream for her to get her presence out of that place, but I only just listen to her bewitching, vile, velvety voice:
'Wilhelm wants only one thing; even the littlest lycan knows it: to see Augusta Lycaone overthrown and the Imperials shattered. If Wilhelm so much as whispers to a human, the Imperials don't take it lightly,' Lauren explains while my mind is still joined with hers. I can imagine her resulting, smug smirk, 'Be scared, Claire,' she threatens.
And kicks me out of her mind.
If not by anything else, surely, by this rope, Lauren will make sure I hang.