Chapter 39

After visiting with his daughter and watching the horror of his son-in-law devouring lasagna, Michael was tired. He didn’t always feel tired, but it seemed that the older he became, the more tired he was, mainly it was mental.

Until he had met his beloved Clara, life was empty. There were so many places you could see in so many ways, there were only so many wonders to witness. Different types of people so many things to learn or books you could read before it all comes to end.

Things did not hold that much meaning to him anymore, even the simple joys of enjoying a good glass of wine with blood or a favorite song. They didn’t have anything for him anymore.

That was until he was able to be with his daughter again. She was a lot like her mother, but he could also see some of him in her too. It, for the first time, made him feel alive again that there was something left in this world to enjoy. There was a future for him as well with grandchildren. He knew that some of this Elixir crap was his fault, and the way the court royals acted, he had become complacent with it all because he didn’t care. That was all about to change. It was time he was alive again.

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the only thing that had kept him alive all those years. It was a picture of himself and Clara on the day they brought Daisy home after she was born.

It was a sunny day, and the water was reflecting the sunlight of the lake in the background, giving Clara an almost angelic look and her thousand-watt smile he loved so much.

It was the best day of his entire existence and being two thousand one hundred and thirty years old, that is saying something. He still had dreams about this day, and the memory was as clear as that day.

He could even hear Clara’s laughter and how it felt when little Daisy grasped his pinky finger in her tiny hand. He closed his eyes holding the picture over his heart, smiling as he dozed off.

Just as he was almost totally asleep, a knock came on his door. He knew who it was already. It was his trusted friend who was nearly as old as he was.

“Come on in, Garret.”

Everyone thought that Garret was just a butler, but in truth, he was nothing of the sort; he had been his trusted advisor through many a difficult time. He was also Michael’s spy though no one knew it because Garret hated gossip so much, he considered it one of the deadly sins.

Garret didn’t look very happy as he came to his desk; Michael noticed that he was holding a small golden box as if it might bite him.

“What you got? Old man?”

Michael couldn’t help but smile at Garret’s face when he called him old.

“Old? Who the hell are you calling old? I am five hundred and two years your junior; if anyone is an old codger, it is you.”

Garret set the box down in front of Michael with a thud, as if it was some nasty piece of garbage.

“I will have you know Michael that this little gem came from the Countess as an introduction present; she is seeking to sink her claws into your daughter.

I have not told the Princess of this gift. I thought, considering the source, that it would be best if it were checked out first before sending it to your daughter.”

Michael now looked at the little golden box like it was a pit viper about to strike; he wished he could find some proof of this witch’s misdeeds, but nothing ever sticks; either her father gets her out of trouble, or the victim clams up.

Michael reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a unique pair of gloves. They were magically enhanced for protection, it could be a bomb and blow up, and his hands would be untouched, and no poison could get to his skin or curse touch him.

He opened the lid to the box and stared at what was inside.

“Holy shit, that bitch finally gave me the proof I have been searching for.”

Pulling the little golden bottle out of the box, it shimmered in the light on his desk; it looked almost alive and had a malicious feel about it when you looked into the glass.

In his hand was the reason for all the demons and other things it was doing to the shifter females. Right here was finally the crucible, the crux of it all. Now all he had to do was question Miss Alissa, aka The Countess, and what she had to say for herself.

After all, this is a deadly potion, which is considered an attempt to assassinate the Royal Princess. He decided he would let her think that her plan was coming together. He wanted to get so much crap on her that she would never be able to shake it off.

She waited for it to go to sleep. She knew that it was fighting to stay awake, but without food other than the little of her soul that that monster was sucking from her, it couldn’t go long without needing to rest. As soon as she felt its presence leave, she leaped forward and took over the body.

The more she tried to remember who she was or where she came from, the less there was to find; it was because that thing was eating her soul.

She had to grasp this one last chance; If she could kill it before it woke back up, then she would still have a little of her soul left for the next life, and that monster would go back to hell where it belonged.

Running out of the cave wasn’t easy because she had to hold out her hands to see; it was strange though she had very few memories left. She did remember basic things like having eyes in her head, not in her hands.

What kind of monster had she become? Once she was out into the sunlight, her skin began to tingle. It was an unpleasant feeling, but it was bearable.

Having eyes in your hands did have some advantages, though; she could see everything from every angle, side to side, front to back, and any other combination she needed.

Now all she needed to do was find the nearest person who could kill her, she wanted to try killing herself, but she was afraid that it would wake up the monster. She was already trying to push the tingles out of her mind.

She ran through the forest and was about to give up any hope when she could hear males talking in the distance; they were not too far away. She bolted into the fastest run she could manage, making as much noise as she could they had to hear her.

Laughing to herself, ready or not, here I come…

The Wraith sat in the upper branches of the tree, he could feel the evil energy. He couldn’t pinpoint its location, it was frustrating, and he could hear the hunters just in the distance searching as well. They were so loud though a train could plow through blowing its whistle and they wouldn’t notice.

He wondered about his actions of late. He was doing all this because he was pissed that someone was stealing his spotlight. In truth, wasn’t he the hero here instead of the villain?

He stopped his thinking when he heard crashing and snapping of branches; to his horror, there it was, running all out straight for the hunters. What was it trying to do, eat them all, or commit suicide?

Letting out a sigh, he doubted that those bumbling idiots would know that the only way to kill a Lamina was to rip out its heart and then stab the heart through with a shank or spear made from the Rowan tree.

He jumped down from his lofty perch and ran to intercept the demon.

The Lamina was the Queen of Libya who had an affair with Zeus; Hera had found out, and either took away or killed Zeus’s children from the union.

This drove the Queen into madness, and she started killing all the children and eating them thus turning into the demon. Hera made the Lamina blind so it couldn’t find the children. Still, Zeus felt pity for his former lover and gave her eyes in her hands.

The only way to kill it was to rip out her heart, so she doesn’t feel the pain of her missing children anymore. It was a sick and sad twisted tail, but it was what it was.

The ancient Gods were assholes; the funny thing was they were not even Gods, just fallen angels that were egotistical narcists with the need to be better than God’s creation.

He had already found a lovely young Rowan tree and fashioned the spear he needed. Now all he had to do was catch up with the thing and rip out its heart. Easier said than done.

Before catching up to the demon, he had one final thought: what other creations had Raymond made? Were they all mythological demons? Damn, that Elixir sure is the ultimate asshole potion.

For some reason, he thought that making that potion was going over the line, which was strange because he didn’t follow the law or any rules.

He heard a loud screech as the demon turned to face him; it didn’t move at him, though, which he found strange. He looked into its eyes and realized that it wasn’t the normal all-black but a rather pretty pair of human or human-like eyes.

The Wraith started to laugh; this was an exciting turn of events, so the monster was on a suicide mission, after all; he had to admit that he had cured his boredom.

For the first time since he was forced into turning, he was grateful that he was a vampire because his human self could never have the strength to do what he was about to do.