Hollow Creed
Lucien Virell POV
Aegis Main Compound
Montana
Warm blood ran down my chin as the last breath slipped from the trembling girl beneath me. Sweet. Innocent. Unimportant. Her pulse stuttered.
Suddenly there was a thud. I growled low at the interuption of my meal. A head, rotting and mutated, dripping black ichor, slammed down on the blood slick table beside me. For a moment, the silence was so loud I could hear the candle flames flicker. My eye twitched. What the actual fuck.
Then I snapped.
The body beneath me hit the ground like discarded meat as I launched across the chamber with a roar that shattered the sconces on the wall. Blood sprayed, glass rained down. The next two humans within reach screamed as I tore into them, one throat, one heart. Their souls barely had time to scream before I consumed them.
The third tried to run. Mistake. I hurled a table through her spine and reduced her to pieces.
“You. Absolute. Brainless. Wretch,” I growled, fangs bared, as I turned back to the decapitated trophy on my table. The message was scrawled on scorched parchment pinned through the skull.
Try again, bitch.
—E
My eyes went red. Not glowing. Not bright. Red.
“Peirce.” The name was a death sentence.
I didn’t even need to shout. I sliced my claw across the summoning mark burned into the bone of my own palm and whispered the words of compulsion as smoke hissed up my arm. Magic surged.
Within seconds, the door burst open. Peirce Godwin stumbled in, adjusting his cuffs, arrogance still painted all over his smug, bloated face.
“Lucien, I was just about to report...” I blurred forward, seizing him by the throat. “You. Sent. The fucking mutations.” My voice was pure ice.
He gagged and kicked. “I..was...helping!”
“You acted without orders.” I sank my clawed thumb into his temple, and his scream nearly shattered the windows. “You forget your leash, dog.”
His mouth opened to argue, and I buried my will into him.
Compulsion.
It coiled around his mind like chains of molten lead, and he went slack in my grip, eyes glassy, soul wide open.
“I own you,” I whispered in his ear. “You don’t move unless I allow it. You don’t shit unless I nod. You don’t breathe unless I say so. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master Lucien,” he mumbled, hollow and dazed.
“Good.” I pressed my claw to his forehead and whispered the final word to seal it. Forget.
His memories burned into ash. He blinked rapidly and straightened, no idea what just happened.
“I trust you won’t act without direction again?” I purred.
“No, of course not,” he said, confused but obedient.
“Get out.”
Once the door closed, I turned and faced the blood splattered windows of my tower, my lips curled into a snarl.
This bitch. Elowen. She thinks she’s clever. I flicked my fingers, activating the blood mark burned into my chest. A single claw dragged across it, and the rune flared crimson.
Moments later, the minds of my second legion snapped to attention. I projected my command like thunder.
“Hold your positions at the fae realm portals. You move only when I command. She will come, and when she does, we strike. Bring her to me alive or I'll rip all of your heads off and put them on fucking pikes."
The blood dripped from my chin to the cold stone floor. Let them build temples. Let them gather their armies. Let them pray. I would burn their gods to ash.
I paced the room, muttering to myself. We need those disgusting human hunters. As much as I hate to admit it, Elowen may be to much for The Aegis Protocol to handle alone. My growl reverberates in the stone chamber. Self righteous hybrid bitch.
They were fucking filthy. Self righteous. Human. Arrogant. But… efficient.
The Hollow Creed. That’s what they called themselves. Real poetic for a bunch of ex-military psychopaths with a hard on for killing anything not born boring and bloodless like them.
They didn’t just kill shifters or witches, nope they didn't discriminate and killed vampires too. Which meant I couldn’t walk in and charm them with my pretty face and silky lies. I couldn’t compel them. Couldn’t scent their weaknesses.
So, I did the next best thing.
I recorded a message. This wasn't my first message to them. The General knew of me. We just didn't speak. They came in handy sometimes.
No face. No traceable signal. Just a voice laced with barely concealed venom and temptation. It would get delivered directly to the Hollow Creed’s encrypted server, thanks to a little help from a human hacker whose bones now decorate my foyer.
I leaned into the mic and hit record. “You’re wasting your time swatting at bugs when there’s a hybrid goddess rising beneath your feet.”
“Her name is Elowen Thorne. A hybrid, werewolf, fae, moon blessed, earth marked, and a threat to every living thing. You think you’ve seen monsters? This one will level nations.”
“You want her?”
“Come and get her.”
“Four days from now. The fae portal. Black Rock Mountains, Montana. She’ll be there. So will I. Let’s see if you’re as righteous as you pretend to be.”
“Or if the bloodlust tastes too good to walk away.”
I clicked the message off and smiled to myself, fangs just barely showing. Let them come. Let them bring their fancy bullets and tactical gear. They’d never met a real predator. And if I played this right, they’d do my dirty work for me.
Then I’d gut whatever was left. I cackled madly, smile growing wider by the moment as I envisioned Elowen hanging in my torture chamber in chains. I would win. Nothing would stand in my way.
General Colson Maddix POV
Hollow Creed Command,
undisclosed location in Utah desert
The red light blinked on the comms panel, once. Only once.
I bit down harder on the chewed up end of my cigar, the thing damn near flattened between my molars, and let the message play. No caller ID. No timestamp. Just that slick, snake oil vampire bastard's voice slithering through the speaker like a goddamn curse.
“…if you want the hybrid goddess bitch, meet me at the fae portal in Montana. Four days.”
I didn’t move. Just sucked in a slow breath through my teeth and blew a stream of smoke toward the cracked ceiling tile like I was exhaling fire straight from hell. The cigar tasted like charred leather and war crimes, exactly how I liked it.
“Elowen Thorne,” I muttered, rolling her name over my tongue like poison. “Fuckin’ magic mutt. Part wolf, part fae, touched by gods. What the hell is this world comin’ to?”
The room was quiet, too quiet for my taste. Soldiers froze at the tone in my voice, eyes darting up from scattered schematics and silver edged gear.
"Ramsey. Doyle. Bishop," I snapped. Three of my best. Hardened killers. Ex-SpecOps with scars in places that'd make most men piss blood. "Pack your shit. Loadouts for hybrid class targets. We deploy in three hours."
Ramsey gave a sharp nod. “Destination, sir?”
“Montana,” I growled, standing and letting my chair screech back across the concrete like a warning shot. “Black Rock region. Fae territory. Looks like we’re goin’ deer huntin’. Only this one’s got magic, a fan club, and apparently a goddamn glow.”
The room buzzed to life. Steel lockers slammed open. Gear hit tables. Wards, bullets, cuffs, blessed blades. Anti magic grenades. Dragon forged axes. We didn’t fuck around.
“Sir...” Bishop started, “This intel solid?”
I took another long pull of my cigar, ash flicking onto the blood stained war map in front of me, and narrowed my eyes.
“That intel’s from the Devil himself,” I said. “And if he’s callin’ us, it means he can’t handle her either. Which means she’s one hell of a bitch to bring down.”
I cracked my neck and turned toward the exit, boots hitting concrete like thunder. “But we’re Hollow Creed. We kill legends. Now move your asses.”
And just like that, the hunt began.