"Martin, where is he?" I yelled at my old friend. Anger and frustration were overpowering my rational mind as we raced through the bloodied streets of St. Louis.
"Carter," Martin replied, "we'll find him. He couldn't have made it that far. Between the fall and that bolt, he shouldn't have gotten back up off the ground. He's scrambling… and hurt."
My daughter cringed at Martin's comments. She, along with the rest of us, was consumed with regret and fear; fear that we had made a mistake and escalated things too quickly before we got real answers to our questions. We still knew nothing about who or what he was. Only one thing was sure in all of our minds. The Sam that we all thought we knew was not human.
"Shit," Martin said out loud.
"What's wrong, Martin?" Eleanor asked, concerned.
"He's going to the river. If he makes it to the water, I won't be able to track him," Martin said, his voice changing as he transformed. His face twisted into the creature he always held back.
He vanished in front of us at an inhuman speed. He was trying to beat Sam to the water. I think he felt responsible for letting the situation get out of control. But it wasn't his fault. It was all of ours.
We kept following the traces of blood, just trying to stay on the path leading straight to the closest part of the Mississippi. Sure enough, as we broke through the blockage of trees and brush to the riverbank, we met Martin. He was alone, standing in a massive pool of blood.
"Martin?" Eleanor was afraid to ask.
"He's gone. He made it before I got here."
Eleanor fought back the tears in her eyes while Autumn stood motionless. I think she was scared to let anything out or feel anything at that moment. None of us knew what it meant, or if he was alive at all. We all just stood in silence on that riverbank for a long time, thinking the same thing: What if we got it wrong?
Martin took us to the factory after we pulled ourselves away from the river. He showed us where he had followed Sam that day before he killed all of those people. It was an empty, forgotten place. There were no signs of activity anywhere except for one little corner of the sprawling structure. There were clothes, a few blankets in a corner, and a few trinkets scattered around the room. The clothes I recognized. Sam had a very simplistic style, and the few shirts I saw him cycle through were all sitting in the factory.
There was one thing I saw that hit me like a gut punch. On his little makeshift nightstand was a small picture that was sitting face up, right out in the open. It was a picture of Autumn.
It was some time later; after hours of searching the factory, we had all exhausted ourselves in a frenzy. Everyone had given up and gone home. I was sitting in the kitchen with El, having a drink, trying to take the edge off after everything that happened. Autumn was in her room. She hadn't spoken a word to anyone since we left the riverbank. She looked like she almost broke down when she saw her picture on the nightstand.
"He said, 'Nothing.' He didn't want anything from us…" I said to my wife. I shook my head. "What was he doing?"
Eleanor shook her head, unsure. "Maybe he was like Martin," she caught herself, "is like Martin." She took a big drink out of her glass of wine. She thought to herself for a few moments. "We should've just brought him here. We could've had Martin and Jane come over as backup. We could have just confronted him here!" she exclaimed. "We could have done things so differently…"
"I know, sweetie, but it's too late. We had to take him somewhere else for the Wicklow's spell to work. You know our warding wouldn't allow for their power to work here."
"I know, Carter…" She didn't want to hear what she already understood.
"El… I saw him walk right by me. He had no idea that we were in the warehouse. He looked right at us and didn't see a thing. If he were human, it would have had no effect." I tried to get her to see things logically.
I had regrets, too, but we had to know. We had to act fast for Autumn's sake. His relationship with our daughter made things exponentially more severe. Whatever the truth was, we had to know.
Eleanor just shook her head, "I just hope Autumn's going to be okay. It's one thing to find out someone you care about isn't completely human, but it's a whole other thing to think you killed them before you knew the whole truth." She took another drink out of her glass. "I just feel… I feel like we lost another member of the family."
"I know, sweetie… I know." I was angry at Sam, but I couldn't deny that I regretted what happened. I feared that I had hurt someone close to us. Everything was just so twisted up… so confusing. Nothing about Sam made any sense.
After a short and restless sleep, it was morning again. I didn't feel like I got any rest at all. It took every ounce of willpower I could muster to keep from just lying there all day. I knew things had to be done. I stumbled out of bed and quickly realized what kind of day I was walking into. As soon as I came around the corner into the kitchen, I met Martin. He was waiting silently at the kitchen counter, in the darkness of the dead house.
"Martin," I said, shocked, "geez, you scared the shit out of me."
"I'm sorry for letting myself in while you slept, Carter. It couldn't wait. I have news."
"What is it?" I asked. "Did you find him?" I found myself hoping Sam was okay. I was actually worried about him, even though he had lied to us from the start.
"In a way…" Martin said vaguely. He looked hesitant before he explained. "Listen, I need you to remain calm for a moment. Allow me to explain," he tried preparing me for what came next. "There's someone I need you to meet."
Then, a man stepped around the corner. He was taller than I, but about the same build. His hair was a solid grey, almost silver. He moved and stood behind Martin so quickly, yet he never made a sound as he transitioned around the house. He was like a ghost.
"This is Charles," Martin said. "He is my creator."
I stood in shock and silence as I realized who was standing in my kitchen. I quickly took into account in my mind how many weapons were hidden in that part of the house. What the fuck was Martin thinking to let this immortal into our home like this? I thought he knew better than this. He was supposed to protect my family, not lead other creatures through our warding like we had taught him how to do.
"I know what you are thinking, son," Charles spoke for the first time. His voice was calm and fluid. "You have nothing to fear. It took almost the entire night to convince Martin that I needed to meet you. He protects your family as fiercely as I protect my own," the elder vampire said.
I analyzed his words, "Your own?"
Martin cut in, "Charles has a human family, too." Martin looked at his old mentor, "A lot has changed."
"Martin was right to fear my return. As I am sure he has told you before, I wasn't always on the right side of things." He patted Martin's shoulder, "The last time Martin and I were in each other's company, we did not part on good terms. I thought him weak for his restraint from taking human life. I used to let my urges run wild. They ruled me. I'm sad to say that my protégé surpassed me in maturity back then. However, I do not let the beast control me anymore. I've learned from Martin's example and found the err of my ways. I'm the master of my mind now. I have those, like Martin," he gestured towards him, "that I care very deeply for."
I found myself easing out of my rigid stance. His calming words and humble speech seemed totally sincere. He had a strange, soothing presence about him. I trusted his words to be true, but I would still never totally let my guard down.
"Okay," I said, "so why did you want to meet me?"
He shifted his stance, silent and swift, "I would like to speak with all of you. I wish to ask a few questions about the one Martin has told me about. This, Sam fellow."
"Sam? What do you want to know about him?" I asked, confused.
"Ah, let us wait a few moments for your two ladies to join us," Charles said, expectantly.
Only about three seconds passed before Eleanor and Autumn came around the corner into the kitchen to get the coffee pot going. They'd both probably be exhausted from our extensive searching last night. Not to mention just the toll of the stress of it all. They both came to a stop as they rounded the corner to see the three of us standing at the kitchen counter.
"Martin," Eleanor gasped, surprised. "What is it? Did you find anything?" She looked to Charles with a question showing obviously across her face.
Autumn shared the same confused look as her mother, but she didn't speak.
"Um, El… this is Charles," I gestured towards the vampire.
For a moment, that name meant nothing to her. Then, once she analyzed the situation and who was present, she realized exactly who he was.
"It's okay, sweetie. I'll explain later, but he's here to help… I think." I looked back at the pair of vampires, unsure of why they had their questions.
"I hope this helps you in some way. But I believe it is you all who will be helping me." Charles reached out to shake hands with my wife. "First, I had a few questions, if that is okay with the lady of the house?"
"Um, sure," Eleanor agreed. She was taken aback by the very, very strange turn of morning events, and the unexpected politeness of this pale, silver-haired vampire.
Charles turned to Autumn, "Ah, and you must be Autumn. Martin has told me much about you."
Autumn greeted, "Hello." She shook his hand and then took a seat at our small kitchen table. Her face had an unsure look, but she had too much going on inside her mind to care. I knew she trusted my decisions, so she wasn't worried if I wasn't. She barely spoke a word.
"Charles wanted to ask us some questions about Sam," I tried catching them up.
Autumn and Eleanor had another puzzled look; I think we all did. That's when they began to explain.
Martin started, "After I left you last night, I met with Charles. I told him about what I found when I followed Sam. Also, about his time around you all, and what happened last night."
"Yes, and when he told me that person was the one who killed the coven of witches, my interest was piqued."
"Coven?" I asked. "What coven?"
"I am one of three that was sent in search of a creature," Charles explained. "The others are very different and very powerful in their own right. One of them goes by the name Mercy Lewis, and she is a witch. An ancient and very powerful witch, at that. She has many followers and branches of her coven in different places all around the world. They are highly secretive and very exclusive."
"I was wrong before," Martin interrupted. "Sam didn't kill all of them. All of the men were killed by the women. Their throats were all slit. Sacrifices for a ritual. The women were all followers of Mercy. The cuts were clean, and that was the only damage done to the men's bodies. The women, however, were slaughtered."
"Now my question is, how would he have known about the coven? Do you have any clue how he found them? Or why he killed them?" Charles asked with intense curiosity.
"No," Eleanor answered first. "This is all just as much a surprise for us." She was quick to turn the questions around. "What are you thinking? Do you know what, or who, he was? Is…" she caught herself again.
"Ah," he realized, "you can tell." He nodded to himself, "This is most definitely not the usual circumstances for me. I usually know exactly what I am walking into when I am tasked to track someone."
"Wait for a second," I interjected. "What are we talking about? Are you saying that you think Sam was the one you were sent here for?" How could that have been possible? If he were the creature, how could I not have seen it?
Charles answered truthfully, "I'm not certain of that yet, but I'm looking at him very closely. You see, a witch's coven is a highly guarded secret. They amass their power by building numbers. The most powerful is the one at the top. Mercy Lewis is the founder and leader of this particular coven. If those below her are killed, she loses power. Witches in a strong coven like this are not easily killed. One does not just stumble upon a coven and kill them while performing a ritual like that. They are very paranoid."
"There would have been spells, barriers, all sorts of illusions and enchantments to keep people away while they performed a sacrifice like they were," Martin said.
Autumn spoke up unexpectedly, "How could he do that, but the Wicklow's spell worked on him last night?"
She was right that it didn't make any sense. Our spell worked perfectly. He never saw us, and it slowed down his perception of time long enough for us to get out of there. Everything worked like it was supposed to.
"I don't know how he did it yet, but he did. Mercy summoned Phineas, the last of our three, and me to the location once she felt what had happened to her followers. The spells and enchantments were all there. Everything was set up and still in effect. Yet someone got in." Charles was very perplexed.
I didn't understand magic all that well myself, but I knew the basic stuff I had learned in my years. Things weren't adding up.
"He's not affected by silver either," I blurted out as soon as it crossed my mind.
"Yes, Martin told me this. He said he carried one of your blades on him, correct?" Charles asked.
"Yeah, that's right."
"Strange…" Charles was lost in thought. He actually walked out of the kitchen and into the living room as he stroked his chin. He seemed truly lost in his thoughts.
Autumn, Eleanor, and I all looked at Martin, who nodded towards the living room. We all followed Charles into the next room over as he searched his thoughts.
"This is very strange… very strange indeed." He paced slowly in a circle around the perimeter of the large room. "I'd like to tell you all a story. It's something I experienced as a child. Before I became a vampire, of course. This will be new for even you, Martin," Charles offered.
"Please," I gestured towards one of the more giant sitting chairs among the couches and other seats.
"Thank you, Carter," Charles nodded.
We all took a seat and prepared to hear a story from a time long ago.