Chapter 50 - Revealed (Carter)

We had finally made it back to St. Louis, returning to work and training like always. I reconnected with Annabelle and Bartley as soon as we stepped inside the house. They informed me that the few surviving Grimwoods had no useful information on Peter. Apparently, they were equally as surprised as us that he had survived. They had continued with no contact or knowledge that he remained. Annabelle stayed in close contact with them as the time progressed, assuring them that if Peter survived and she needed help dealing with him, she’d call.

Allen and Eloise returned to Jane's just days before the full moon which would soon rise high in the night sky. This wasn’t their first full moon with her pack, but Jane insisted on keeping them close for the first year, ensuring they could handle the changes. I trusted Jane’s judgment without question, and, surprisingly, so did Allen. He followed her rules strictly, making sure he and Eloise stayed within the boundaries she'd set.

Jane was clear: as long as they could stay in control, or at least be restrained, she’d give them more freedom. I appreciated her approach. She was a strong, experienced leader, and Allen and Eloise could learn a lot from her. If Allen could absorb that strength and discipline, he might one day become the strongest, and deadliest hunter our family had ever seen.

As soon as we got back from the awkward family gathering, Frank wasted no time reuniting with Jane. They disappeared to his place like clockwork. I couldn’t help but smirk, knowing the few days apart must’ve put a strain on their... physical relationship, especially with the full moon on the horizon. Frank once confided that as the moon got fuller, so did Jane's... appetites. She’d explained it was part of the whole animalistic curse, and there was no fighting it.

Every month since they’d been back together, Frank would walk around for days afterward with the most immature, stupid grin on his face. One time, we were watching a truck unload lumber at a construction site, and Frank couldn’t focus on a single thing. He was like a kid about to get out of school for summer break. He was just itching to see Jane. That was the night before the full moon, when she was closest to the wolf; and he clearly couldn't wait.

Autumn and Eleanor were especially drained after the trip. We were all on edge, worrying about the silence from Sam. The thought that the entity in the fields had pulled him away to kill for it again gnawed at us. They roamed the house, desperate for answers, reading anything that might give a clue about something… anything.

We all wanted to talk to Sam, to warn him about what was coming after the time we spent with our cousins; but he hadn’t been answering his calls. The silence was unnerving. None of us knew where he was, and every unanswered ring only deepened the sense of dread. Even Martin wasn’t responding, which made it worse. It felt like Sam was out there somewhere, caught in the grip of that terrifying, unknown force from the fields. The thought of him being pulled further into its control haunted us, and the worst part was, we had no way of helping him.

Our time at the lake was a well-needed break, that was certain. But it was also a time to answer questions. Uncle Chris and his side of the family knew something was going on. They were front-loaded by Zeke and Arthur before we even got there. I thought Zeke would hold off and let me explain everything first, but he didn’t.

When we got there… I’ll never forget the first thing Uncle Chris said to me. The look in his eyes said enough. His words just boosted the feeling of disappointment.

“What did you let happen?” he asked me.

What did I let happen? He didn’t know jack shit! I was pissed. Mad at Zeke for not being able to keep his damn mouth shut, mad at Arthur for letting him do it, and Uncle Chris… for always acting like I had to control every millisecond of what went on in our lives. That’s how he ran his family, but that’s not how I handled mine.

It took a lot of talking throughout our time there. We played out everything that happened over the past year. We told them everything, literally everything. The only things we were able to keep a secret were the key points Sam had always stressed. We kept his family a secret, and we didn’t tell anyone about the visions or names that Sam got from the entity. Eleanor glazed over a lot she remembered from that other world, still playing like she hadn’t recovered her memories as much as I knew she had. Details she recounted to me in private were scarcely told outside of our bedroom. Some were small… but the details mattered for certain things.

Uncle Chris and his side didn’t believe that Eleanor was brought back to life. They think it had to have been something Phineas did to her that wore off. We let them find their own truths to believe. It was easier for us than trying to convince them of the real facts.

In the end, however, Uncle Chris and his side only wanted one thing from us. They wanted to meet and observe Sam. They didn’t want us to be so tightly wound with him, obviously, but they knew they couldn’t control us, as much as he wanted to. Uncle Chris always acted like Zeke and I were still kids, not treating us as the heads of our own families at times. Zeke might go running to Uncle Chris like a child when he can’t control things, but not me.

Autumn, El, Frank, Clara, Wayland, and I were all on the same page… nod along, pretend we’d follow their wishes, just to keep things from boiling over. We wanted to see our family… to reconnect and bond after time apart, and major life-changing events on both sides. We needed to smooth things over, but first, we had to navigate through the mess. We knew how uneasy they got around anything unfamiliar… anything monstrous. Hell… we were the definition of that, but how we met Sam, and everything that happened slowed our reaction. It allowed us to see him for who he still was before we knew what he was. They’d never understand Sam until they actually met him, but we weren’t sure that day would ever come… not if Sam didn’t pick up his damn phone.

The clock was ticking, and we had to warn him they were coming to St. Louis. We also needed him to be in St. Louis. But with each passing day of silence, the anxiety gnawed at us. Where was he? Why wasn’t he answering? What would happen with our cousins if they got here, and we couldn’t introduce them?

When the conversations did finally settle, we got into Allen and Eloise. That was more of a believable story for them to accept. They didn’t like it, hoping they could reverse the curse somehow. Uncle Chris had contacts, others similar to the Wicklows, that he thought could do something. I doubted it. Not that I didn’t want that for my son, but if it was possible, the Wicklows would have found a way to reverse the Talbot's burden.

Throughout all of our time away, I never heard from Sam. At first, I thought that was a good thing. He was doing as I asked him to. But then Autumn said he wasn’t replying to her, then Eleanor. Frank tried too, but nothing. He called Jane but she hadn’t seen him either. Something just felt… wrong.

We still didn’t have full answers to his curse, if you want to call it that. I don’t know what else you could call it. But we knew enough that things just weren’t adding up. Even if he got a vision and left the city, he should have still been able to call, or text at the very least. Right?

We still hadn’t learned what he was any more than he had. He told us what he knew, and what he knew wasn’t much. Those other people who talked to him in the other place didn’t give him real answers. He told us that they said he’d learn everything on his own. I didn’t like that. What were we supposed to do if, as he learned things, he changed? What did we do if the Sam we knew faded away behind an evolving monster that took away his control, eclipsing his human side from sight… forever?

Autumn had sucked Kayla into her search for answers as the days passed. She came back with us after the lake, but only her. Zeke and Arthur planned on sticking around as long as it took to put an end to our current problems, but they stayed elsewhere. Uncle Chris was coming to St. Louis and they were helping him get situated in a place he had on the other side of town. Plus, I don’t think Zeke wanted to be alone with me after he spilled his guts to our Uncle. They wouldn’t leave us until we knew the Peter Grimwood problem was dead and buried, and they had met and “dealt” with Sam.

After around four days, we were visited as soon as the sun came down. When darkness cloaked the expanse of grass between our house and the trees behind the backyard, Martin and Alex rushed towards our home in a blur. A dark silhouette shot out from the trees quickly and was trailed by another shadow that held a crimson hue. I knew they were coming, so I waited on the back patio with everyone. They said they had some information on more human trafficking and other things they had learned since we left for our lake trip.

“Carter,” Martin greeted coolly as they arrived. “It’s good to see you all. I hope your vacation was… soothing.” The old vampire smiled, unaware of everything that had happened.

I hadn’t found the time or thought it essential to tell him about what happened. I didn’t think calling him to talk was a good idea while we had our… less than accepting side of the family around. Martin was a very sore subject for our Uncle. Uncle Chris never liked the fact that my father kept ties with Martin, or that I seemed to carry on that tradition.

“As much as we could,” I offered. “It’s nice to see you again, Alex.”

“Hi,” Alex didn’t say much, only standing beside her ancient friend as he did most of the talking.

Her red hair flowed past her shoulders and straight down, like a sheet of blood. Her clothing was just as before… very revealing. She never seemed like she wanted to look presentable in typical situations. She was a strange one, but she was with Martin to help, so I couldn’t complain. It just made things slightly awkward with the men, obviously trying to avoid looking at her for too long.

“Martin,” Eleanor cut in, “have you heard from Sam yet?”

Martin was quick, “Heard from him? No, not in a while.”

“We’ve all been trying to get ahold of him, but he hasn’t answered.”

“What?” Martin huffed and began pacing around our living room. “The last time we saw him was about a week ago. We three went out to hunt down any clues that we might find regarding Peter.”

“You did?” Eleanor asked.

It was weird, Sam teaming up with the two vampires. He had never done anything like that before. He was very solitary normally.

“Yes. He thought that if we combined our efforts, we might uncover something to help find Peter. But at the end of our time together, he left abruptly. Alex and I tracked him, but he went into the river. That’s where we lost him. He hasn’t been to the safehouse since…” Martin fell short. He didn’t know anything else.

“Something happened to him while you were away,” Alex opened up, surprisingly.

“What happened?” Eleanor asked, shifting her attention to the red-haired woman.

“He was attacked,” Martin answered. “He said they were like shadows standing behind him.”

“Did they hurt him?” Autumn cringed.

“They did mess him up pretty good according to what he told us. But you know Sam, he recovered quickly. He said they attacked him with a passing storm. He said they pulled lighting from the sky and hit him with it,” Martin recounted what was told to him by our friend.

“He was still healing when we found him at the safe house,” Alex added.

“What could do that?” El asked in fear. “Peter?”

“We thought it might have been Peter if he was still alive. We hoped to find him once we all decided to go out together. But he never told us where he was going once he left us. He just left. He didn’t leave on very good terms. He seemed… very distressed.”

“Carter you don’t think?” Eleanor began to wonder.

I shook my head, “I don’t know sweety… I hope not.”

“He was talking with one of my contacts in the city. A man who knows more about this world than anyone I’ve ever met. They spoke alone for a while,” Martin said, his voice low. “Then Sam stormed out, out of nowhere... and that’s when we lost him.” His uncertainty lingered in the air, thick and foreboding. “We thought we might learn something about Peter,” he added.

Wayland’s question came cautiously, “And did you?”

Martin’s face darkened. “Yes… but it’s worse than I ever imagined.”

A cold lump formed in my throat. “What do you mean?”

“Peter… he’s tied to something… ancient, something far more powerful than we thought. That’s why he can’t die. Whatever it is, it’s keeping him alive even when his body’s destroyed. If we want to stop Peter… we have to kill whatever he’s bound to.”

“Something ancient? Like what?” Wayland asked.

Martin took a moment, “We don’t know.”

“How do we kill it?” Frank asked.

Martin shook his head, “We don’t know.”

A chill ran through the room. “We need Sam,” Eleanor urged, her voice strained with the weight of it all.

“Yeah,” I agreed, though uncertainty gnawed at me. “If there was ever a time we needed that thing inside of him… it's now.”

Alex’s words broke through the tension, grim and final. “I don’t know if he’ll make it in time. There’s more we know... something’s happening and we might have to move without him.”

Fear crept into my chest, the same fear that had haunted me for months. Had Sam left us again? Did he have another vision, another pull that yanked him away from us? How long would he be gone this time? Ten months? A year? The thought of waiting that long again felt unbearable. Maybe, just maybe, Uncle Chris would get his way in the end, and Sam would be lost to us for good.

Suddenly, Autumn stormed off, her expression hard as stone. She clenched her jaw tight as she turned up the stairs, and I knew she was fighting to hold back everything she felt. Moments later, the slam of her door reverberated through the house, followed by the sharp sound of shattering glass. She’d hoped, desperately, that she’d finally figure out what she was meant to do with Sam. I knew she still had feelings for him, she confided in Eleanor often, unsure of what the right choice was.

My heart ached. I didn’t want that for my daughter. As much as I thought and felt about Sam and all he’d done for us… he wasn’t human; he couldn’t give her the life I wanted for her. Our lives weren’t normal, not by any stretch, but they were stable enough… close to something resembling what the rest of the world had. With Sam, she wouldn’t have that. Still, I hated seeing her like this, struggling with feelings she couldn’t control. I wished, more than anything, that I could take away her pain. But I couldn’t.

"I am sorry about Sam. However, we all knew he was an unknown, and couldn't be relied upon regularly. We still have no idea what he truly is,” Martin said. “If he was here, he’d be a boon… but he isn’t… and lives are at stake?”

After an awkward moment of silence, Martin returned to speaking about what he had come for.

“What did you find?” I asked my old inhuman friend.

"More people have been taken. Since you left for the lake, there have been five disappearances. They all have the same look and feel of the trafficking from before," Martin suggested. “If so, it very well may be Peter.”

"I followed a few vampires from the bar the other night. They led me to a sewer system in the downtown area. I saw them take a girl down there. I tried to run after and stop them from killing her. But as soon as I went down into the tunnels, they were gone.” Alex recalled the events strangely, "It was like they disappeared out of thin air. The trails they left just ended randomly inside the stone tunnels."

"I too have struggled to track certain individuals through the city's lower depths," Martin said, his voice heavy with thought. "There are paths and hidden doorways down in the caverns below, secret routes known only to those tied to the pits. It seems there are ways to descend even deeper beneath the city, though only those bound to the Elders would know of them. How I wish I could reach Charles…" He shook his head, frustration seeping through. "I’m beginning to think this goes beyond Peter Grimwood. The creatures that rose from the depths: Fitz, the youngbloods, those two feral vampires…they all emerged from parts of the caves that remain hidden from me."

Martin paused, his gaze distant, as though recalling the dark labyrinths beneath the earth. "They must have been shown or taught how to navigate those tunnels, likely by someone far older and more seasoned in the ways of the pits. But I believe we must investigate the area around the tunnels beneath that part of the city. If they are indeed taking humans down below, there may be a staging area on the surface. I suspect the Lemp Brewery served such a purpose; a place to gather the victims before they were taken below, for whatever grim fate awaited them."

His words hung in the air like a dark omen, the weight of his suspicions pressing down on us all.

“You want us to go beneath the city?” I asked, my voice tight with disbelief. “We can’t do that… we’d be slaughtered.”

Martin chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, Carter. That won’t be necessary. I’ve come up with a plan where you’ll remain topside, scouring the city for any signs of a new staging area. Alex, Jane, and I will handle the caves.”

“No,” Frank cut in sharply, his voice hard as iron. “Jane’s not going down there. You can’t fight in that place. It’s a death trap, and you’ll all be killed.”

Martin glanced at him, sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Frank, but Jane’s already agreed. She wants to help put an end to whatever’s happening beneath the city.” His tone softened, but the weight of his words was undeniable. “She’s made her decision.”

Frank’s face went pale, and for a moment, it was as if he’d been slapped. “What?” His voice trembled slightly as he tried to comprehend. “She… she agreed to this?”

Martin nodded solemnly. “Yes. She believes it’s the right thing to do. We all do. Also, the full moon is close… she’ll be close to the transformation, making her very valuable as a combatant.”

Frank’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. He wasn’t angry at Jane… no, that wasn’t it. He was terrified. The thought of her walking into those cursed caves, where so many had been lost to the unknown, gnawed at him. His eyes flickered with desperation like he was searching for a way to stop this, to keep her safe. But the decision had already been made.

For the rest of the conversation, Frank sat in tense silence, his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t say another word, but the anguish was plain on his face. His fear wasn’t something he could easily hide. It settled over him like a shadow, growing darker with every minute Jane was bound to descend into those hellish depths.

“We’ve worked out a plan and an area to sweep already. Let’s all go over the details and, if you are all willing, we’ll execute,” Martin offered.

I looked to Eleanor, who was hesitantly nodding in agreement. We wanted to help save the lives of these young people who had been swept up in the cruel world that wanted their blood for power. But as always, I worried for our family. We both did. When push came to shove, we had to stop the evil in the world. We’d do it, as long as we all agreed that Martin’s plan was solid.

“Okay. But first, we have to get everyone over here. They have to hear the plan and agree for themselves,” I told Martin. It annoyed me to say it because I was hoping for a much longer reprieve from my cousins. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards.

“Certainly,” Martin knew this is how we did things.

“Okay. What’s the plan?” I asked Martin.

We took the rest of that night and the next day to plan our mission. This was going to be a big one, and we determined early on that we’d need to call in the Wicklows. We needed some of that gypsy power to fill in the gaps where we thought our strategies were weakest.

I was hesitant to call and inform my cousins, but thankfully, once I told them the circumstances, they were quick to fall in line. Uncle Chris wanted to stay in the loop, but he wasn’t coming. He and his kids were looking into a few things in the area. I assume they were digging into anything they could find about the strange events in the city over the past few years, since Sam’s arrival.

The following day was mostly filled with mapping out that section of the city, determining getaway routes, assigning positions, determining teams, and many other aspects of the hunt. Our hunting party was massive, numbering sixteen in total. We had two main groups: one above and one below. As the time approached, and everyone knew the exact details of the plan… we made our move.

There were three drivers and three teams above on the surface. The drivers would be Shelta, Bartley, and Patrick. The gypsies could use their powers to keep us all linked like they had that night in Annabelle’s yard. Hopefully, this night would go smoother. The area we would be covering was so large that each team would need one of the Wicklows nearby to act as a repeater for their strange power. One gypsy wouldn’t be able to maintain that area of coverage for long enough. Having all three Wicklows as drivers, staying locally around their corresponding team would spread out the load amongst their collective power. Annabelle would be somewhere in the mix, roaming randomly at her leisure to assist in the massive effect we’d be creating in the area. She wouldn’t take orders, though. She agreed to help, but she knew what she was doing. I worried about her the least of us all. But I was concerned about what she had already “seen” and what she hadn’t told us.

Each gypsy driver had a team of three hunters to keep mentally linked to the rest of us. Shelta had Clara, Autumn, and me; Bartley had Arthur, Kayla, and Zeke; Patrick had Frank, Eleanor, and Wayland. Each of the hunting teams consisted of a long-range shooter, a medium-distance hunter, and a close combat fighter. We split everyone as evenly as possible to have at least three different specialties per team, along with their Wicklow. This was the most efficient and strategic way we had determined to progress with Martin’s plan.

The team below consisted of Martin, Alex, and Jane. Martin and Alex had distinct skills that would keep them alive down below. Frank was anxious about Jane. However, the full moon was approaching, growing a primal force within her that would be devastating for anything that crossed her path. It was so close that Jane’s inhuman power was beginning to surpass Martin. I still wasn’t sure exactly how powerful Alex was, but I’d bet that Jane would be able to win in that fight as long as it was on a full moon. Frank didn’t need to worry about her… but he did.

The question of whether we should bring in Allen and Eloise had come up, but we decided against it. Jane didn’t want to test them out in the city too close to a full moon. Eleanor and I were both in agreement, but I think we had our own reasons to hide them from the danger. I think we both were scared of losing our son again after we had just got him back.

Once we had our teams, we knew what to do. We split the search area into three sections and would scan and sweep the city in the darkness of the midnight hour. We were in the general area of Metropolitan Square. Many large buildings in the area shot up into the night sky. We rolled across the empty streets below the metal and glass titans as we located our starting point.

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Once in position, Shelta came to a stop in between the tight brick walls of two buildings. We slipped out of the black SUV without saying a word. We were all linked together, and we began at Martin’s order.

“We’re in,” Martin informed the surface teams.

This was the cue. Clara, Autumn, and I distanced ourselves from our vehicle as Shelta pulled back out of the shadowy alley. The dark-haired gypsy would stay close enough to maintain the effect on us. Still, she’d patrol the area for any incoming problems. She seemed distracted as always, and I hoped she was up for this task.

We were in the northernmost section of our sweep area. We moved above the city streets on foot while Jane, Martin, and Alex scoured the wormholes beneath the city. They searched for any signs of a presence or force that could hinder the surface operation. My team was on the move. Clara and I moved forward first, Autumn maintaining about thirty yards distance between us to stay effective at long range. My daughter was a crack-shot, and I knew nothing would get close to us as long as her equipment functioned correctly.

In the dead of night, only a handful of cars slipped through the empty streets. Their headlights pierced the darkness long before they got close, giving us just enough warning to melt into the shadows. Detective Ames was aware of our operation, but that didn’t mean we could move freely, decked out with automatic weapons in plain sight. Each time a vehicle approached, we froze, pressed into the cover of alleyways and dark corners, our movements silent and calculated. We waited, muscles tense, until the lights faded away. Fortunately, they were few and far between, making the pauses brief but vital.

We swept the area, building by building, street by street. We were looking for anything, mostly ground level. Any craters, holes, cracks, fissures… anything. These murderous assholes would be coming and going from a secluded location where they would be hiding the people they captured. We traced every inch until we came to the last building in our area. The other two teams had swept the outer edges of their zones as well, coming inward to the central parts of our middle ground where all three regions met. The very middle of this vacant downtown area was ominously quiet. We were as silent as church mice as we moved in and out of buildings with our weapons drawn and ready, quickly and tactically clearing them at the street level. We were looking for any signs of entrances to the subterranean levels beneath the city.

We had one last building, and I dreaded it. One Metropolitan Square, looming high above the skyline, its glass and steel exterior shimmering faintly under the muted city lights. But in the shadowed corner at street level, a boarded-up section stood out, as though the building had been abandoned halfway through a transformation. Thick wooden planks, weathered and splintered, crisscrossed over windows, making the entire area look forgotten, though a sense of concealed activity lingered in the air. It was too big, too well known. It would put us out in plain view too easily.

A metal door, tucked discreetly to the side and running parallel to the main street, beckoned with a certain grimness. Rust clung to its surface, streaks of dark orange-brown corrosion snaking across like veins, but their pivot points were clean metal, betraying the hinge's frequent use. Someone had been through here… often. Caution tape fluttered in the breeze, frayed and torn at the edges, yet its black and yellow warnings screamed loud in the quiet night. “DANGER: KEEP OUT,” the signs read, plastered haphazardly across the door and the adjacent walls, but their weathered state only made the place feel more ominous. This was no mere work zone; something hidden simmered beneath the surface, and every warning felt like a challenge daring us to step inside.

“Autumn,” I spoke quietly to my distant cover, “Keep eyes on this door. We’re going to check it out.”

“I’ve got you,” her voice rang in my mind.

I heard her quickly scaling the building just across from the rusty door. She slung her rifle across her back as she used a drainpipe that descended from the roof to make her way to the top of the adjacent building. She was up there on the third floor in seconds. She had an eagle-eye view of every available angle the door offered. Once inside, she’d be no help, only able to keep others from following us in.

“Clara, let's go. Stay close and don’t get separated.” I pulled my silver blade from behind my waist. “If anything kicks off, we’ll retreat through this door, and Autumn can take out anything that follows,” I spoke to them both.

“Got it,” Clara assured as she stepped forward to grip the coarse metal handle.

“I’ve got you both,” Autumn was in position.

“In three, two, one, go,” I counted us down and then rushed in like a ghost behind my sister.

The moment we crossed the threshold, a stench hit us, thick and nauseating, clawing at our throats like something alive. The sight was worse. The floor beneath us was littered with bodies… if you could still call them that. They were more like mangled remnants of human beings, twisted beyond recognition. Flesh was torn apart, limbs scattered like grotesque puzzle pieces, and blood seeped from the remains, congealing into a dark, sticky pool that glistened sickly under the dim light. It was far more than the five Martin had expected… far more.

Heads were severed clean from their necks. Their empty eyes staring, mouths twisted into silent screams. Limbs that hadn't been completely severed were grotesquely bent, arms and legs twisted in directions they were never meant to bend. Bones jutting out through shredded skin. The bodies seemed almost thrown together like discarded meat, as though whoever had done this had no regard for the concealment of what they had done.

The smell was overpowering death, rot, and something fouler, something metallic and sour that made my stomach lurch. Clara gagged beside me, choking on the thick, putrid air as we tried to breathe, but each breath burned our lungs, filling us with the rancid odor of decay. It clung to us like a curse, the grotesque scene burning itself into our minds as we struggled to comprehend the horror before us.

“We’ve got a problem,” I choked to everyone through our link.

“What do you got,” Zeke asked before anyone else.

“What is it Carter, are you alright?” Martin spoke right after him.

“Bodies, lots of them,” I told the teams. “There’s blood everywhere. We’re too late. Most of them… they’re… it’s so much...”

“Shit,” Alex screamed aloud somewhere beneath the streets, allowing us all to hear her frustration and rage. “Those mother fuckers!”

“Autumn,” Jane spoke clearly through our minds, “Don’t shoot, we’ll be coming up out of the manhole cover on the north side of your alley in a few seconds.”

“Roger,” Autumn acknowledged.

Clara and I staggered backward through the creaking door, desperate to escape the nightmare behind us. The moment we hit the open air, it felt like a lifeline. I gasped, sucking in as much of it as I could, my chest heaving, my lungs burning to purge the sickening stench that had clung to us inside. The cool, clean air was a shock, sharp and refreshing, but even as it filled my lungs, the memory of what we’d seen twisted my stomach. The grotesque scene of mangled bodies, twisted limbs, and that foul, choking stench seemed to cling to the inside of my skull, disrupting every thought.

It was good to breathe again, but I couldn't shake the images burned into my mind. Clara bent over beside me, hands on her knees, gasping in the fresh air as though she’d been drowning.

“What the fuck was that?” she rasped, her voice trembling as she spat the words out, as if speaking them would make it all less real. She glanced at me, her eyes wide and frantic, trying to process what we had just witnessed. “What would do that to people?”

I had no answer, only the sickening churn in my gut, knowing that whatever had caused that carnage wasn’t done yet.

In a haze of exhaustion and confusion, the teams converged on us, their faces a mix of fatigue and wariness. It was the first time we'd all been together since splitting up in our vehicles, scouring the city in the dead of night. Jane, Martin, and Alex crawled out from the earth below through a storm drain in the street a few yards away. They looked like zombies clawing up from the grave. The night had dragged on forever, and though we’d finally found something, none of it made sense. My mind churned, clouded with questions I couldn’t shake. Why did those people have to die like that? What did it all mean?

“They’re not human,” Alex announced the moment she reached us, her voice flat and cold.

“What?” I asked, words catching in my throat as I searched for some clarification.

“I can smell them. Those bodies… they’re vampires. Lots of them.” She leaned into the rusty door, peering into the darkened carnage with something almost like sadness in her eyes. “What a shame,” she murmured, her tone hollow. “I could have fed for a week on all of them. Wasteful…”

Her words left a bitter chill in the air, twisting my stomach further.

“But why?” Martin muttered to himself, his voice a low, uneasy whisper as if he wasn’t sure he wanted an answer.

Eleanor, dirt-smudged and weary from crawling through the filth of the city, looked at him with wide eyes, her clothes stained with the grime of the underbelly she’d been crawling through. “What is it?” she asked, her voice gritty, still out of breath from her own search. She was just as confused as I was.

“Those bodies are vampires?” Clara’s voice cracked as she spoke, her relief palpable, as if the knowledge somehow made it all less horrific.

Alex nodded happily, and Martin, his face tight with confusion, took a glance inside. He winced at the smell, clenching his jaw before pulling the door shut with a grimace. He nodded too, but his eyes were clouded with doubt, uncertainty gnawing at him.

“So many vampires… but why? Where they… sacrificed?” Martin was still lost, his confusion weighing heavy in the air.

“Could it have been Sam?” Autumn’s voice came from above as she dropped down from the drainpipe, her boots landing with a solid thud on the ground. She hadn’t seen the carnage for herself, but she’d heard enough. “Who else could slaughter that many vampires?”

“Exactly…” Martin’s voice clung to that thought. He seemed to gravitate towards the idea, hoping it to be true. His thoughts spiraled inward. “Maybe… maybe Sam was already here. Maybe he—”

“Oh, you guys…” The voice slithered out of the darkness below a burnt-out streetlight, cold and mocking. It was smooth, dripping with evil intent, sending a shiver crawling up my spine.

We all whipped around, tension coiling like a spring, to see a figure standing at the far end of the alley. A man, his dark suit crisp against the filthy backdrop, hair slicked back and perfectly parted on the left. Peter Grimwood. His grin stretched unnaturally wide, a grotesque display of teeth, gleaming in the dim light. His hands were caked with dried blood, the dark crust flaking off in places, and for a fleeting moment, a sickly green shimmer passed over his eyes before vanishing as if it had never been there.

"Can't you see?" he sneered, his voice dripping with a manic edge, almost trembling with excitement. "I don’t need to be part of their groveling anymore! It was all a ploy anyway. I was just biding my time, hanging around until I got the boost I needed." His laugh broke the silence, a high, frenzied cackle that sent chills racing down my spine. "Once I had it… well, let’s just say I had to put a stick in their spokes. Can’t let the competition get too strong now…” He threw his head back, laughing again, this time louder, his voice echoing down the alley like a madman set free.

His eyes darted between us, wild, erratic. “I can take them now… the vampires… imagine the possibilities!” His smile stretched even wider, crazier, as his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, the twisted glee never leaving his face. "They did the bidding from down below, for their line of power, but that’s so boring, so… limited.” His gaze darkened, flickering with something even more sinister. “They take this meager human life for their masters, when their own is so much more… filling. But me? I can take all life now."

Peter’s head turned toward the rusted door behind us, where the mutilated bodies of vampires lay piled in carnage. His eyes glistened with sick admiration. “They have a potent life force inside them,” he murmured, almost reverently, his voice slithering across the words. “The strongest I’ve taken myself.”

Then his gaze snapped to Alex, a look of crazed camaraderie lighting up his face. "You know what I mean, right?" His eyes bored into hers, hungry, as if he believed they shared some twisted understanding, something dark that bound them together. He laughed darkly, entertained by himself.

He looked deranged, that grin plastered on his face, blood dried and crusting around his fingertips. His voice quivered with excitement, every word laced with a madness that seemed to seep from his very pores. Something about him was wrong, deeply and terrifyingly wrong, like he’d stepped over the edge into some abyss that had hollowed him out and left this grotesque shell behind. The smile, the laugh, the way he savored each word. Peter wasn’t just crazy. He was something far more dangerous.

I wished Sam was with us at that moment.

Martin, Alex, and Jane all started moving towards him, knowing death was on the horizon. They all stepped forward, faces warping and claws extending. Jane's eyes shifted to large primal orbs of yellowish orange as she gritted her teeth in rage.

Peter lifted his hand, “Not so fast you eager beavers!” His eyes pulsed green momentarily, and our three friends stopped moving. They were immobilized.

In my mind I spoke to Annabelle, “Are you seeing this… do something! Free them!”

“How are you alive?” a voice emanated out from thin air. It was Annabelle as she watched us from within her own mind.

“Well, hello,” Peter’s grin only grew more insane with time. He looked around to the surrounding area, “Come now… show yourself, Annabelle. It’s no fun to guess where you are. Don’t you want to face down your enemies?” Peter mocked the eldest gypsy.

“Your one to talk, you fuckin’ asshole,” Zeke spat at the lone gypsy from across the darkened, silent alleyway.

“Such anger,” Peter grinned. “Why are you so worked up over a few vampires? Aren’t I doing you all a favor?”

“We don’t care about them, Peter.” Annabelle’s voice rang out through the alley like she was standing right there, “We want the humans you took. We know you’ve been taking people. Is that how you’re alive?” Annabelle’s voice held an unusual tone of fear that she never had since the day I met her.

“Now, why would I tell any of you my big secret? It would be like knowing you’re going to your own surprise party, no fun at all.” Peter started stepping towards us in that black suit, his teeth smiling bigger the closer he got. His eyes were growing wider the closer he got to us. Something was different this time; Peter was different. He felt more dangerous.

There was a feeling in the air. Something wasn’t right, and it was familiar. I had felt it on a few hunts before. The night my father was killed, the night Eleanor was killed, and again right at that moment. Someone was going to die… I just knew it. It was like I could feel it in my bones.

“As for the humans… that was more of a them thing,” Peter motioned to the door nonchalantly, where the vampires lay twisted and dead. “They had things to do for some big wigs down below. I just piggybacked them for a while. Faking loyalty and respect, you know… that old chestnut. I didn’t need the humans myself, but I helped out a few times; until the time was right to upend their master plan,” he waved his hands in the air. “This time…I took the human sacrifice for myself. Those poor vampires never saw it coming. Then I took the vampires.” Peter turned his hands over, looking at his bloody palms. “What I can do now… it’s like nothing I’ve felt before.” He was in awe of himself and whatever he had going on inside. He looked up sharply, no more grinning, completely serious, “Where’s your friend? The one that killed me before… I’d like to have another dance with him.” Peter started tapping his feet around, doing some kind of twisted tap dance in the dark street. He was unafraid, excited to face down Sam again. It was like he couldn’t get killed quickly enough.

“What is it you want Peter?” Annabelle's voice broke through the night.

Peter slowed his crazy train long enough to answer truthfully. No lies, no crazy, just brutal honesty.

“It’s simple really. I wanted what your families stole from mine. Power!” Peter’s eyes flashed green with strange power, letting out some kind of feeling that made me feel sick with dread. “I found that already though. Now… I just want to make you all suffer like you did to my family!”

Zeke looked at me in the fear and chaos of the moment and nodded. I knew what he meant, but I couldn’t choke the words out quick enough to stop him. I knew he’d never change… he was always rushing in.

Zeke’s arm shot out like a whip, yanking Kayla back into the group with a forceful shove. She hit the ground hard, confusion etched on her face as she looked up at him, bewildered, her breath knocked from her lungs. The rest of us barely had time to react. But I knew what Zeke was doing before the others even blinked.

In a seamless motion, he had his pistol out, the barrel gleaming in the dim light, every muscle coiled with intent. He surged forward, his feet barely touching the ground as he sprinted straight at Peter. The world seemed to slow, and the deafening roar of his gun split the night. Silver bullets screamed through the air, tearing into Peter’s chest like they were drawn to him, one after another, every shot perfectly placed.

But Peter didn’t flinch.

Each bullet hit with a sickening thud, embedding deep into his body, tearing through flesh and bone, but Peter’s smile never wavered. It stretched wider, unnatural, as if the pain was a foreign concept. His chest should’ve been nothing but shredded meat, but the man didn’t even stumble, didn’t so much as blink. The air around us seemed to pulse with something wrong, thickening with every shot that rang out.

Zeke didn’t hesitate. He was on Peter in seconds, his blade flashing in the low light. A streak of silver slicing toward Peter’s neck, aiming for the kill. It was a perfect strike, timed with lethal precision, the force behind it enough to decapitate any normal man.

But Peter’s hand was faster.

With a movement so smooth it was almost lazy, Peter reached out and caught Zeke’s arm mid-swing, his fingers closing around Zeke’s wrist with terrifying ease. There was no physical strength behind it, no muscle, no force that should’ve stopped the blade. It was something else, something far more dangerous.

Peter’s eyes flashed green, the sickly glow flickering for only a second, but at that moment, I was thrown back to the night in the cave. The night with the Olitiau, when I had first felt this same unnerving energy. The same eerie calm that now radiated from Peter, as though he wasn’t even human anymore, as though something else entirely had taken hold of him.

Zeke’s arm trembled, his muscles bulging as he tried to drive the blade forward, but Peter held him still, his grip unshakable. It wasn’t physical power. Zeke was stronger by far, but something unseen, something sinister, had locked him in place. It was as if Peter was playing with time itself, moving in slow, deliberate increments while the rest of the world raced forward. He stared into Zeke’s eyes, his smile curling into something darker, something far more twisted.

I could see the strain in Zeke’s face, every muscle in his body flexed as he struggled to break free, but Peter’s grip didn’t budge. His calm, icy demeanor only made the scene more horrifying, like he was in total control. The sick green pulse of his eyes faded back into the shadows, but the memory of that night lingered, a reminder that we were dealing with something far beyond anything we’d faced before.

This wasn’t just the power of a gypsy, like the Wicklows. He had something else. Something beyond this world. In those few quick moments… he reminded me of Mercy… the witch that came for us all.

“I guess you want to be first,” Peter said, his voice dripping with a twisted delight as he smiled at Zeke. The smile lingered, a cruel mockery as he glanced back at the rest of us, paralyzed where we stood, watching the inevitable unfold.

The green glow in Peter’s eyes burned brighter, casting a sickly hue over Zeke’s face as Peter’s grip tightened. Zeke’s arm twitched in Peter’s hand, the tendons straining against an invisible force. There was a moment, a fleeting, desperate moment when Zeke looked back at us, his eyes wide with fear. His gaze locked on Kayla and Arthur, frantic, helpless, the weight of what was happening crashing down on him like a suffocating wave.

“I’m…,” the word trembled through our mental link, a ghost of a thought that barely formed before it was lost. His eyes glazed over, and that spark of life extinguished in an instant. His face, once lined with determination and strength, went slack. The man who had fought with every ounce of his being now stood hollow, an empty shell.

Peter released him without ceremony, his fingers uncurling as if Zeke were nothing more than a discarded toy. Zeke's body fell; no instinct to break the fall, no flinch of pain. He hit the ground with a heavy, final thud, like a felled tree crashing into the dirt. The silence afterward was deafening. The harsh reality set in immediately. Zeke was dead.

Kayla’s scream shattered the quiet. “Daddy!” It was raw, filled with disbelief and agony. She scrambled, her hands clawing at the pavement as she tried to get to him, her entire body shaking. She needed to reach him, to touch him, to make this nightmare unreal. I grabbed her before she could get too far, wrapping my arms around her as she struggled against me, her fingers digging into my arms, desperate to break free.

“Kayla, he’s gone!” I hissed, my own voice cracking under the weight of the words.

But she couldn’t hear me. She fought harder, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her tears falling freely. She was losing it, breaking apart piece by piece. She needed to get to him, to feel him, to somehow believe that there was still something left of her father in that body. But there wasn’t. I could see it, feel it. Zeke was gone, and there was no coming back.

We were exposed, helpless against whatever nightmare Peter had become. And in that moment, the terrifying truth settled deep into my bones: we weren’t just losing the fight… we were going to be hunted, broken down, and killed off one by one.

I remembered what that felt like from the night that Eleanor had died. I knew all too well what Kayla felt. Then, at that moment, I realized something else. This was Martin’s plan, but they all followed me. They weren’t following Martin, they were trusting and supporting me after I approved of the hunt. I had pointed fingers at Zeke for so long about the way they planned and hunted that I didn’t see it until that moment. I was the reason Zeke had died. I rushed into the hunt, I didn’t plan enough, and I had become what I accused Zeke of being.

“I’m going to fucking enjoy this!” Arthur started stepping forward, about to make his last stand against the strange gypsy.

He was walking straight into his own demise. I had to stop him.

The roar of the engine came out of nowhere, a thunderous, heart-stopping sound that echoed off the walls of surrounding structures. A grey SUV hurtled toward us, headlights cutting through the night like sharp, white knives. There was no time to process what was happening before it slammed into Peter with a sickening thud. His body crumpled on impact, bones bending at impossible angles as the force sent him sprawling, limbs flailing like a broken doll.

For a brief moment, his body hung in the air before being swallowed under the SUV's front bumper. The sound that followed was a grotesque symphony of flesh, bone, and asphalt, a skin-crawling crunch as Peter was dragged beneath the frame. His body, already mangled, grated against the rough street like meat against a rusty blade. Bones snapped with each rotation of the tires, twisting and cracking under the relentless weight of the speeding vehicle. His limbs flopped uselessly, caught between the grinding pavement and the unforgiving steel of the undercarriage.

The SUV jolted violently as it rolled over him, his body little more than a shattered mass now, thudding beneath the tires like roadkill. It skidded to a stop with a sharp screech, the rear tires sliding diagonally onto the sidewalk, barely slowing as it clipped a “no parking” sign. The metal pole wobbled, dented by the impact, but the SUV stopped, its momentum finally giving out as the street fell into an eerie quiet.

Martin, Jane, and Alex were all free to move again, but they seemed tired like they’d been fighting the hold the whole time, with everything they had.

Peter was left behind, a mangled heap of twisted limbs and pulverized flesh, the asphalt slick with his blood. The sight of his broken, lifeless form smeared across the street was a brutal reminder of how easily things could end. But even as the SUV rested there, steam rising from the hood, the feeling of dread hadn’t left me.

Blood and hair were smeared across the bumper and grill of the silver SUV. The driver's door flung open to let Bartley step out from behind the wall.

“I’m sorry, I came as soon as I saw it. He must have been blocking us from seeing him somehow. Mom didn’t even know he was here…” Bartley was talking, and we were all easing into relief that Peter had been dealt with, even if it was for the time being.

Bartley grabbed his own head, “Shelta… I need you here now!”

We all heard it within our thoughts.

“On my way,” I could hear the panic in Shelta’s voice as it echoed across my brain.

Then, like something out of a nightmare, a twisted, mutilated corpse rose behind Bartley. The man’s skin hung in shreds, flayed and dripping with blood, but through the mess, an eerie grin pulled at what was left of his lips, half-exposed bone gleaming through the gore. His face, barely recognizable as human, was a canvas of carnage, flesh hanging loose, and only a few jagged teeth poking through the crimson ruin.

“Bartley, watch out!” I screamed, panic choking the words in my throat.

Bartley spun around, eyes widening in terror as he came face-to-face with the half-exposed skull. The grotesque smile that twisted the broken remnants of the corpse’s mouth was sickening, blood dribbling from where skin should have been. In that instant, a gnarled, twisted hand shot up from the corpse, its raw, flayed fingers gripping Bartley’s throat before he could even react. The hand was slick with blood, the muscles beneath shredded skin pulsing as they clenched down.

The two were locked in a horrid embrace, Bartley’s terrified eyes meeting the cold, dead stare of the skull just inches from his face. A flash of sickly green light flickered in the corpse’s glazed eyes, and Bartley’s body went slack, his head lolling back as life drained from his body in an instant.

The corpse didn’t release him. Instead, it began to change. Flesh slithered and twisted unnaturally across the bones as if knitting itself back together with each passing second. The blood seeped back into veins, the wounds closing, the sinew pulling tight. We watched in frozen horror as the mutilated body reformed, rebuilding itself piece by piece. Flesh that had been torn and shredded was now stitched together, slowly mending into something horrifyingly familiar.

Peter Grimwood’s face emerged from the mess, his skin pulling tight over his features, the sick grin still stretching across his lips. His eyes were alive with a vile hunger as the last of the transformation settled, the bloodstained skin snapping into place with a grotesque finality.

Once the likeness of Peter was complete, he let Bartley’s limp body fall from his grasp. Bartley collapsed like a rag doll, hitting the ground with a dull, lifeless thud. His body lay crumpled, only feet away from Zeke.

The air felt colder, heavier, as we stood there, staring at the monster that had just come back from the dead.

I quickly looked at everyone else, making eye contact with Autumn and Eleanor, “Fall back, now!”

The panic and fear of it all had our judgment shaken. This was no hunt we were on; it was a slaughter… our slaughter. We needed to get out, but how?

Jane, Martin, And Alex stepped up as we stepped back. They were throwing themselves forward as our defenders. They had strength and power, unlike even the boldest humans. Peter would be no match for them physically.

The ground trembled beneath us, a deep, low vibration that seemed to come from the earth itself. I felt it in my bones before I heard it. The nearby dumpster rattled, its rusted wheels screeching as it rolled away from the wall, skittering across the cracked asphalt. Peter’s grin didn’t fade, but his eyes darted around, trying to make sense of the growing power. He could feel it too.

A voice pierced the stillness, cold and furious, like the air before a storm. “Not Bartley… never my brother…” Shelta’s words hung in the air, her presence unseen, but her wrath palpable. The ground shook harder as her anger boiled over, the power of generations of gypsy blood coursing through the space around us. “You’re going to pray for death this time, Peter!”

Peter's grin widened, the madness in his eyes gleaming. “Now this… this is what I’m talking about, Shelta!” he cackled, as if the imminent clash was nothing more than a game to him. The anticipation of battle, the thrill of power… he craved it.

We didn’t waste the moment. While Peter’s attention was drawn to the threat Shelta posed, we backed off, slipping away just enough to gain some distance. We wouldn’t leave the fight, not entirely, but we needed space. More than that, we had to recover Zeke and Bartley. Their bodies couldn’t stay here, in the filthy street where they had fallen. We had to take them home. We had to lay them to rest.

Shelta’s power rippled through the air, an invisible force that was charged with revenge. The very air around us seemed to hum with the strength she summoned, the kind that belonged to only the most potent of power we’d ever known the Wicklows to have in stories.

A deep dread gnawed at the edges of my mind as I crouched behind cover, questioning everything. Was I really the hunter I thought I was? Had I ever been? Zeke, Bartley, all of them... they had given their lives, and for what? How could we tell Bartley’s wife, Sarah, about this? How could I even face her?

But the rumbling didn’t stop. It grew louder, more violent. Footsteps pounded against the ground as Jane and the others charged towards Peter, their forms blurring with speed. Jane led the charge, her figure cutting through the dim light like a blade. Her arms strained with power, muscles taut, every movement precise, deadly. She wasn’t running at Peter, she was launching herself, like a force of nature about to collide with its target.

Shelta’s unseen force wrapped around them, amplifying their strength. Jane’s eyes were fierce, her focus deadly. As they closed the gap, Peter’s smile never faltered, but Jane’s expression was one of grim determination. She didn’t care if she couldn’t kill him; they were going to tear him apart, limb from limb if that’s what it took. Peter had to be stopped, even if only for a moment, so we could get away, so we could drag Zeke and Bartley’s bodies out of this nightmare.