Ancient Evil (The First Genocide Book 1) (4 page)

Five
attractive people sat around the table in the dimmest corner of the pub. They
appeared to be in their late teens or early twenties. In spite of the pub being
packed, there was a five-foot bubble of empty space around the table — a bubble
that the other patrons in the pub did not breach nor even appear aware of. No
one approached to ask if the empty chair at the table was being used, which was
extraordinary in a crowded drunken pub in a crowded drunken city.

A miasma of smoke hung above the table, a
result of the various items the group was smoking. One of the boys was smoking
a pipe. The three girls were smoking French cigarettes, the ones with the
colored cigarette papers, two pink and one purple. The faint odor of mint
suggested that the remaining boy was smoking menthols.

An observer would have thought it slightly
odd the way that they looked back and forth at each other. It was uncanny how
they would all turn as one towards one of their number then would turn to look
at another as if following a conversation that only they were aware of. They
looked mostly to a blond girl with pale blue, almost colorless eyes smoking the
purple cigarette. However, there was no observer. You would expect that such an
attractive, yet odd, group would draw the occasional glance, but they didn’t.

The door of the pub opened and the crowd
parted like the Red Sea for a slim girl with copper hair. She walked up to the
table and sat in the empty chair.

The girl with the purple cigarette flipped
her blond hair out of her eyes and leaned forward slightly. The newcomer
flinched, the others smiled slightly.

Charlie knew Leader would be annoyed; she
hated waiting. You would have thought her many, many years of life would have
given her patience as well as cunning. No such luck. Although Leader looked to
be somewhere between the age of eighteen and thirty, inside she was a grumpy
old witch, steeped in ancient evil.

As Charlie sat, Leader’s thought hit her
between the eyes like a cattle bolt. Leader’s thought was broadcast so the
others could hear.

Leader:
Where the fuck have you been,
bitch?

Leader must have been really annoyed to
chastise her in front of the others. Charlie sensed their amusement as they
anticipated her humiliation. Even Baby, the newest member of their group,
seemed amused. Baby usually tried to avoid the attentions of the others,
especially the boys. She would grow more confident with age; they all did.
Charlie could only just remember what it was like when she was Baby long, long
ago.

Charlie fidgeted. Her hands traced the
wards scratched onto the surface of the table. To Charlie’s eyes they appeared
to glow a cool electric blue. They felt cold to her touch, further indication
that they were active. The wards were camouflaged by various other scratches
and graffiti covering the tabletop. Only one of the Quickened or partially
Quickened, like Leader and the rest of the coven, would be able to notice the
pattern. Leader had scratched the wards into the table months ago, when they
decided to make the pub a regular meeting place. The first of their coven to
arrive for each meeting was responsible for activating the wards, guaranteeing
them privacy.

Charlie broadcast her thoughts back to the
entire group.

Charlie:
Apologies, Leader, I am sorry I
am late.

Leader:
When I call, you come. Open to
me.

Charlie instantly laid her mind bare to
Leader. She knew better than to show the slightest hesitation when Leader was
peeved, a lesson learned many decades ago. It could have been centuries ago,
the years tended to run together.

Over the years she had learned other things
too, such as a way to hide important things from Leader. Things like John, or
whatever his name was. She jealously guarded that little tidbit of information.
He was too good to share.

Leader rummaged through her thoughts and
memories like a bag lady at a skip. Leader did not find much of interest,
except for the rather uncharitable thought Charlie had about Leader as she
entered the pub. Leader briefly switched to the private mode with Charlie,
cutting the others from the communication.

Leader –> Charlie:
A grumpy witch,
hmm? Show me respect even in your private thoughts, or you will regret it.

She switched back to broadcast mode and
continued.

Leader:
If you are late again I’ll cut
your fucking nose off and stuff it up your arse. Got it?

Charlie:
Yes, Leader.

Charlie lowered her eyes, the picture of
contrition. One of the boys, the slim one, also blond, snorted. They all looked
at him, radiating shock at his lack of control. He radiated back humor with a
touch of sheepishness and broadcast back to them.

Donald:
Sorry. But, come on, that’s
funny. Cutting off her nose and putting it in her arse. You know an arse
smells, right? And her nose would be there.

They all looked away from him,
uncomfortably, as they often did.

Charlie reached for the cigarette box on
the table and selected one with a green cigarette paper. She was vain and knew
it would bring out the color of her eyes. She lit it with a Zippo that was
lying beside the cigarette carton. She then pulled a crystal from her tiny
purse and placed it on the table.

Leader:
You can put away your Soul Catcher;
we are not here to share tonight. Children, I need you all to be discreet for a
little while. No culling until I tell you otherwise.

Donald and Charlie both interrupted.

Charlie:
But the Festival starts next
week.

Donald:
Please, Leader, no. Festival is
the perfect time to feed. There will be a million strangers in town.

Leader mentally tweaked the pain centers of
their brains. They both twitched and stopped sending their thoughts. Leader did
not acknowledge the interruption.

Leader:
I have heard from some of my
sources that there have been a couple of disappearances.

The other boy ran a hand through his lush
brown hair.

Lewis:
Why should that concern us? We
make people disappear all the time.

The girl beside Leader also leaned forward.
The boys looked into her brown eyes, studiously avoiding looking into the ample
cleavage she presented to them.

Little Eve:
Oh boys, how can you be so
dense? Not herd disappearances, Hunter disappearances. 

Little Eve somehow managed to project a
Gallic twist to her thought. Charlotte and the others did not know how she did
it. They were not using actual words to communicate, so how could she think
with a French accent? Oh well, they all hoarded their little secrets and tricks
from each other.

Leader:
Correct, Eve, the boys are dense.
Let me be one hundred percent clear. Hold off on feeding for a few weeks until
we can find out what it going on.

Baby:
WHAT COULD IT BE? WHAT COULD TAKE
ONE OF US DOWN?

Charlie managed to suppress a flinch when
Baby spoke. Some of the more sensitive of the Herd in the pub shivered a little
and looked around uncomfortably, subconsciously feeling the presence of a
predator in the room.

Baby may have been young, but she was
strong, very strong. They had all spent years trying to beat some control into
her but she was also stubborn. Of course they were all stubborn. You needed to
be stubborn to survive the transition from Herd to Hunter. But there was
stubborn and there was fucking stubborn. Baby was the latter.

Leader sent a brief pulse of pain through
Baby, chastising her. Baby took it without complaint or acknowledgement. Tough
little bitch.

Leader:
That is what I need to find out.
It could be a new coven in town or a couple of rogues. It is even a possibility
that some of the Herd have become aware of us and want to uncover our secrets.
Given, that is rare, but it is not unheard of. If any of the Herd threatens our
existence they will bring dark days down upon their heads.

They all paused to draw deep on their
nicotine delivery systems.

Eventually Charlie broke their reverie.

Charlie:
Does this prohibition just
apply to new culls? What about culls underway?

Leader:
Everything stops, old, new,
underway, everything. This includes your new paramour, Charlie. We keep our
heads down. Let me know if you see or hear anything.

Charlie felt a chill. She had hidden John
from leader, she was sure she had.

Charlie:
New paramour?

Leader just looked at her.

Charlie:
OK, I have a new paramour. But
Leader, he has been most difficult to crack. I have been grooming him for weeks
through chance encounters. He is going to meet me tonight. I just need a couple
more days.

Leader:
No.

Charlie pouted and veiled her thoughts from
the others. She was sure that she had hidden John from Leader’s mind ream. She
must have guessed from Charlie’s objections. And Charlie had just confirmed it.
Stupid. She was going to have to be more careful. There was no way that she was
going to let John slip the noose.

Leader:
I mean it, Charlie. If you
disobey me in this, you will wish for something as minor as having a nose
suppository.

Donald snorted again. The others ignored
him, again.

Charlie was waiting in the pub for “John.”

It was Thursday night and the pub was half
empty, a testament to how truly atrocious the weather was. The chances were
good that he would turn up.

She had been careful. She had popped into a
few other pubs before reaching her destination to see if she was being
followed. Her mind was locked up tight — her colleagues should not be able to
detect her, even if they were right outside. Well, except for Baby, maybe. Or
possibly Leader; none of them really knew how strong Leader was or what tricks
she had up her ancient sleeve.

Most customers entered the pub with heads
bowed and shoulders hunched — because of the rain — so no one noticed anything
odd when he first came through the door. He started to draw glances when he did
not straighten up and he did not immediately take off his coat in the hot, damp
interior of the pub. He looked around self-consciously.

She was at a table farthest from the door.
She had chosen a location from which she could watch him as he made his slow
and painful way across the pub. The other patrons watched him over the rims of
their glasses or in the large mirror that covered the wall behind the bar.

Eventually he got to her table. He was
sweating in his slicker. She said, “Hiya,” brightly.

“I can’t stay long.”

She pouted, “You only just got here.” She
crossed her legs and the short black mini skirt she was wearing rode a little
higher up her milky thigh.

“Let’s just have a drink and see, OK?”

“Sure, can you get me a vodka and Diet
Coke?”

“Umm, sure. Is there table service?”

“No, you need to go to the bar.”

“Alright, I’ll be right back.” He turned
tortuously away and hobbled over to the bar.

He came back with her drink in his right
hand and a pint of Guinness for himself in his left, the rubber coating on the
mechanical hand ensuring the glass did not slip. He placed the drinks on the
table and lowered himself onto the backless stool, topped with red velveteen
upholstery. He hid his left hand under the table and placed his good right hand
on the table beside his pint.

She downed her drink and said, “Another
round?”

He looked at his untouched pint, placed it
on the table and said, “I think I will sit this one out.”

“Suit yourself, same again for me.”

He looked at her for a second then slowly
climbed to his feet and made his way to the bar.

“Hey you, mutie. You trying to get that
lassie drunk?”

He was on his fifth trip to the bar. He
looked over at a bloke with a moustache and receding hairline standing at the
bar with a few of his pals said, “Wha?”

“I said,” he said slowly and loudly,
looking around the pub to make sure he was the center of attention. “Hey you,
mutie. Are you fucking well trying to get that young lassie drunk?” He smirked.
“You should be, if you want her to be able to look at your face without
pukin’.”

“Look, I don’t want any trouble.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Stache said. He turned to
one of his friends, who was clean shaven and had a large beer belly, and said
in falsetto, “I don’t want any trouble, he says.” Stache turned back to him and
said, “Well trouble found you, pal.”

He backed away to the table and heard Belly
say, “You tell him. It’s disgustin’. Him taking advantage of that wee lassie.”
He leered over at Charlie. Charlie looked over demurely and batted her
eyelashes.