The Four Horsemen(3)

Mona gives her a look. In it I see a thousand things, a thousand bad things. Mona is done with Michelle and her selfishness. I can't blame her, but I also can't be angry with Michelle. I have no ability to maintain a proper grudge—flaw in the system I suppose. Plus, I knew Michelle as Michael. I knew the lost boy who was always sad and alone. My heart broke every day for him, and now I have to celebrate her, even if she is overcompensating.

I close the door of the Hummer as I climb into the back with them. Wyatt sits next to me, nudging me, "You okay?"

I shake my head, "I have a bad feeling. It's been this way since I killed the first devil. It's like I'm expecting something bad."

Wyatt laughs sarcastically, "Of course. This whole thing is bad, everything is bad. Look where we are." He wrinkles his nose, "Speaking of which, what's that smell?"

I smell the air, "I don’t smell anything. Leather seats?"

Mona shakes her head, "You smelling a devil? I don’t smell anything."

Wyatt sniffs around us all, like a hound. I start to giggle, unable to stop myself. He moves around the Hummer until he leans over the backseat. He pulls back quickly, "Gross. What the hell? Why do they have to bring snacks everywhere they go?"

I lean over the seat, "Oh my God, is she dead?" A limp body lies in the massive trunk.

Wyatt shakes his head, "No, she's alive. They cannot eat dead blood. Stake to the heart won't kill them but dead blood, that’s the ticket." He runs his hands through his hair, “Well that’s the ticket for regular vampires that they make. I think dead blood only makes them sick, really sick.”

I nodded, recalling that suddenly.

Mona shakes her head, "I'm not looking. I can't do this shit anymore. This is inhumane."

Constantine gets into the driver's seat. He starts the truck. I scowl, "Why is there a dying girl in the backseat?"

He looks at me in the rearview, "One of you is getting into the passenger seat. What do I look like—Morgan Freeman in Driving Miss Daisy?"

Michelle jumps at the chance. I can see Constantine's eyes narrow as he mumbles something. Wyatt's lips turn up into a grin, like he heard the muttering. He probably did. The guy is part hound, for sure.

Mona points at the backseat, "Dying girl? Let’s focus."

Constantine sighs, "Mona, I have to eat. Stella brought me a snack, that’s all. I won't kill her. I will reward her for the stealing of her blood."

Mona folds her arms, "I'm not riding in the car with her bleeding in the back. She has already been bitten."

His eyes twinkle, there is evil in them. I see a plan on his lips, but he doesn’t speak of it. He doesn’t need to. Wyatt looks back at the girl and then back at Constantine with an evil gaze, "You're turning her?"





Two





The chalet is a mansion. How many ways can one man say mansion? He's a psycho if he thinks this is a chalet.

He's a psycho anyway. I smell the air in the back, the girl doesn’t smell evil at all.

Mona nudges me as we walk along the driveway to the house, "That was an awkward drive."

I nod, "Why is he making vampires, and why isn’t he talking to us about it?"

Mona's eyes darken, "Why is all we ever have, Rayne. No one is telling us anything. Don’t you think that’s weird? They’re doing this whole end-of-the-world shit and it’s like by guess and by golly. Where is the science and research and planning? It feels a little half-assed, if you ask me."

I nod again, "I think it's all weird and half-assed. The witches and Fitz were the only ones who were actually making an effort to plan."

She gives me a look, "The other thing bugging me—we need to get rid of Michelle. I swear, she's going to sell us down the river again. I have a bad feeling about her."

I can't say I don’t have the same feeling, but I’ve never been big on grudges. Even with Wyatt being an asshole to me, I have never been able to hate him for it. I notice, suddenly, my ability to hate has gotten weaker. With it, my ability to love has too. I don’t love Wyatt or Constantine. I don’t love anything or hate it, not even Gretel. I say I love things, but the depth is more like puddle deep, and the attachment is not there, not like it used to be. I shake my head, "Better to keep her close maybe."

Mona nods, looking like Blair off Gossip Girl more than ever. The scheming face is very Blair.

I force a smile across my face, "We'll have a good Christmas and leave it at that?"

She doesn’t look convinced as we walk into the massive great room. The stone fireplace looks comforting. I sit down in front of it on the huge white shag carpet and sigh when the heat bears down on me. I shiver as my back tingles. Stella comes and sits next to me. I forgot about her, completely. I forgot how beautiful she is. I see Wyatt watching her, and I know it is the mesmerizing awe of her beauty. No one can help it.

She clicks a remote and the huge TV in the corner turns on. I give her a funny look, "What are you doing?"

She shrugs, "Just checking the news. I heard some people talking at the airport about a war."

I roll my eyes, "When isn’t there a war?"

She puts the remote down when it's on the channel she wants, “Not a normal war.” She leans against me; the smell of her is so familiar. It almost relaxes me. I remember being sick and she nursing me back to health. At first she was so angry that he had brought me to the castle, stolen from the Van Helsings. I was sick and dying and soon she saw that. She fed me broth and read to me. I remember her dark curls and beautiful face. I remember the way she always told me that one day we would be sisters for real.

And then I died.

The second time she was part of my life more. I grew to love her more and more.

Now she is like Mona to me, comfortable. Mona comes and sits with us, "Where is the war?"

Stella shrugs, "I didn’t hear. My German is rusty and that’s what they were speaking."

A journalist with a microphone, and a grave look on his weary face, speaks slowly, "It is like nothing we have ever seen. The Palestinians, the Jews, and Christians have slaughtered each other in Jerusalem. For the third time in history, Jerusalem has been destroyed, wiped from the Earth. There is no winner, no clear winner. The UN has made a decision I feel many of us are mystified by. They have chosen not to interfere. Every country has pulled back, choosing to defend their borders only. Americans, British, Canadians, and everyone else have brought their military home. Bases around the world have closed. All military personnel have been flown home in what some are calling the most bizarre forty-eight hours ever lived on this Earth."

My jaw drops. Wyatt comes to the shag carpet, sitting next to me. Even he and Stella behave as we watch the broadcast.

"I have been instructed to be blunt and forthcoming with all details of the situation." The man's face has a look of uncertainty and disbelief. "We are seeing unprecedented movements and strategies by all countries. Everyone is stepping back from it. I have live reports coming in from our journalist in the field, Katherine Little."

The screen splits into a view of him and then a view of a woman standing on a hillside. There is smoke behind her, filling the sky. She pastes a forced smile on her lips but it’s delayed almost from what the other journalist has said. "Hi Stan. Behind me is what is left of Jerusalem. The entire city is destroyed. This, two miles away, is the closest I am allowed to get. Reporters are not allowed closer than this, and private companies trying to help are medevacing the few living who have fled the city. Everyone here is stunned and disturbed by the choices made by the UN. No one here understands how the slaughter has been allowed." Tears fill her red-rimmed eyes as she stammers, "Th-th-there is a river of blood streaming through the city. Reports of the most bizarre nature have been our only information. I spoke to one witness as she was being strapped into a gurney." Her hand shakes as she lifts the charcoal-stained fingers to her face with a blackened piece of paper up so she can read it, "She said, there was a thundering of hooves on the street. The people stood in awe as a rider made his way through the streets. He had a crown and a bow and he was killing faster than anyone could hide. He killed alongside of things that couldn’t be seen. There was fire and destruction everywhere. Again, it was like a war against things that could not be seen."

The screen cuts back to just Stan. He looks scared as he gazes off into the distance. He jerks, as if the studio has told him to talk again, "Thank you, Katherine. That is most disturbing. We have reports of something similar in the Vatican City but no eyewitness testimony. No video footage is coming from the city or Rome at all. We have been unable to reach our Rome correspondent for many hours." I can see tears slipping from his eyes as he pastes a fake smile on his lips, "We will try to keep you updated on the events as they occur. Please pray for the victims of this horrific event."

Stella turned the TV off, but it's not her that speaks, it's Wyatt. "Shit, Revelations, really?"

I frown, "What?"

Mona gives me a look, "Johnny Cash, the pale horse intro to The Man Comes Around. The rider is death or something, right?"

Wyatt scoffs, "Yeah well, before Johnny Cash sang about it, it was a bible verse. Jesus." Mona wrinkles her nose at him.