83: The Cost of Doing Business – Pt. 2

“Where is he?” Victoria shouted as she stormed through Rowan’s front door.

“Rowan gave specific instructions he wasn’t to be disturbed,” Marcel said, placing a hand out to stop her before she sent him flying across the room.

“ROWAN!” she growled as she pushed into his office.

“Victoria, please, do come in,” Rowan replied, disregarding her sudden intrusion. “What can I do for you?”

“Did you know what they were doing before you sent me in there?”

“Of course, I did, dear. Why do you think I sent you in there?” he asked incredulously.

“They are killing people; innocent girls in some—some blood ritual!”

“As I said, Victoria, I am fully aware. Only now they have started using supernatural creatures for their exploits,” Rowan said with a deep sigh, dismissively waving his hand. “Witches, Victoria, they are killing witches…and possibly a few warlocks. They are stealing their magic.”

“What? How?” Victoria asked, stepping closer to where Rowan sat.

“Well, I’m not up on my blood rituals these days but I’m pretty sure it has something to do with the markings they have etched all over the walls. Whatever it says, it’s kept me from entering their place of business which doesn’t sit well with me.” He stood and circled around the front of his desk.

“Now do you understand? Marcel can’t stop them and neither could I. It had to be you. You’re the only witch friend I have. They are becoming too powerful and as such have decided with that power, they no longer need me nor will they uphold our long agreed upon arrangement; they keep their noses clean i.e., find their participants for these ceremonies outside of Avondale’s city limits and I don’t rip open their necks with my teeth.”

“Wait, you agreed to that? Rowan, they would still be killing people!”

“Yes. But it wouldn’t affect your bottom line. I know how an unsolved homicide just sticks in your craw,” he smirked. “Besides, with the upcoming resurrection of the Destroyer, I didn’t fancy having you distracted by a pile of bodies stacking up on your doorstep.”

“This is insane. You’re insane! But I mean, what did I expect from a homicidal maniac? This is my fault,” she said, pacing the area in front of his desk as she wracked her brain over why she allowed herself to be sucked into Rowan’s mess. “I never should have agreed to this.”

“To what exactly, Victoria?” Rowan asked, his cool breath rolling over the back of her neck. She had been so distracted with her self-flagellation she hadn’t heard him move closer behind her. One arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her against him as his lips gently ghosted over the shell of her ear when he spoke. “You are putting an end to a group of evil, dangerous men. I thought this would make you happy.”

“You know what would make me happy, Rowan?” Victoria asked, roughly pulling out of his grip. “If you were one of them.”

“Ouch! Come now, Victoria, darling, you don’t really mean that,” he said, touching a hand to his heart in faux offense.

“Those men were dressed like the cult members I’ve encountered before…”

“Were they? Is there a question there?”

“Is all of this connected, Rowan?”

“It is possible they are working with or for someone else. It would explain their defiance.”

“I can’t believe this has been going on and no one noticed!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘no one,’” he said. Grabbing a binder from his desk, Rowan opened it and turned it for Victoria to see.

Inside were articles from the Sun Harbor Times. The local paper for a large metro city outside of Avondale. Mangled bodies had been turning up all over the town; dumped from places unknown and the police had their hands full. Believing it to be the work of a serial killer, an FBI profiler had been brought in to help track down the assailant. It wasn’t until the more recent victims did the crime appear occult related. Victoria assumed it to be because of the markings she saw the men carving into the body.

“‘Ten murders in ten weeks, all committed with a dagger,’” she read aloud. “And you were perfectly ok with this happening? What am I saying?” she paused and thought. “You’re a murderer yourself. Of course, you were ok with this. How many lives have you taken, Rowan, to become so insensitive toward this near dozen?”

“I’m nearly a century old, Victoria. How many do you think?” he asked and watched a look of disgust pass across her face. “Interesting. Tell me, how is it you find yourself completely appalled with my past and yet seem capable of bedding one of the worst of us? You see my indiscretions first and foremost when you look at me. Do you simply not allow yourself to see the Monster of Manchester whilst you’re in the throes of passion?”

“The difference is, Rowan, Derrick has tried to make up for his past. Sure, he may have an occasional slipup but unlike you, he mostly does right. He doesn’t manipulate me into killing innocent people as part of some test for example,” she replied and watched a darkened look overcome Rowan’s countenance but it was quickly replaced with a neutral expression before he spoke again.

“Right. Well, we’re getting a little off base here,” he said changing the subject, his English accent drawing her out of contemplation. “I brought you in on this to get this to stop.”

“No. You brought me in on this to get these men to do what you want them to. Had they not started killing witches and growing in power I doubt I’d have ever heard from you concerning this situation.”

Rowan shrugged and crossed his arms into his chest as he rested against his desk. “The point is I called. Now, I believe you have a job to do.”

That familiar smirk graced Rowan’s lips as Victoria stared up at him. And as much as she would have loved to walk over and slap it off, he was right. Not only had she made a promise but the task at hand was one she could not walk away from…not now. Not knowing what those men were doing to innocent people; her kindred of all beings.

“I’ll fix this, you don’t have to worry about that,” she said, shaking a finger at him before poking it in his chest. “And just so we’re clear, when I’m done with these monsters, I’ll be back for you.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Rowan replied, his English accent grating her nerves as she turned to exit his office.

It didn’t take long for her to return to the large office building. Looking up at the immense skyscraper, Victoria shrugged off the feeling of dread that had returned as she again slipped inside and headed upstairs in search of the conference room.

“Excuse me.” Victoria turned at the sound of the male voice. A young man with the company’s logo emblazoned on his light blue shirt had come out of one of the adjacent offices smiling curiously at her. “May I help you?” She apparently had been standing at the window of the empty room long enough to attract notice.

“Oh no,” she smiled, shaking her head. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“You appear lost, Ma’am. Are you sure I can’t direct you to your destination?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she thought a moment. Whether this employee knew of the rituals or was simply trying to help, she debated the pros and cons of involving him in her search. With a nod she decided to give it a shot. “I’m looking for Wendell Thornton’s office, please,” she replied, asking him to guide her to the only name on Rowan’s list who was not registered on the building’s directory.

The man’s eyes widened imperceptibly and briefly before he schooled his features and smiled. However, Victoria had noticed his demeanor changed from polite to wary. “Of course,” he smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Right this way.”

He led her toward a staff only elevator and used his employee badge to call the 13^th floor for her. Of course, this place has a 13^th floor, she thought as the man stepped back. As the doors closed, she noted his uneasy appearance and knew the man was at least aware, if not involved, in the activities taking place on the 9^th.

A greater sense of impending doom loomed over her as she felt the elevator reach its stop and Victoria prepared to enact a protection spell. But as soon as she crossed the floor’s threshold, she felt a heavy wave of magic pass above her and the effects were instantaneous.

The floor swayed beneath her and she sank to her knees. The last thing she saw before the darkness completely consumed her were the expensive leather shoes of whom she could only assume to be Wendell Thornton. 

“Where is she?” Derrick growled, storming through Rowan’s closed office doors.

“Derrick, right. May as bloody well come in,” the English vampire sneered in Marcel’s direction. “I really ought to do something about security around here.” Marcel shrugged before sheepishly shutting the door, leaving the two alone. “Now then, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, old chum?”

“Drop the act, you son-of-a-bitch and tell me what you’ve done to her. Where is Victoria?”

“Victoria? Why on Earth would you think I’d have any idea as to where your witch has gone?”

“I know she came to see you. I’m not an idiot. I could smell her before I even made it through the front door. Now I’m gonna ask you one last time. WHERE IS SHE?!”

“Are we ready?”

“Yes. The witch is ready to be extracted.”

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