Legacy of Darkness 002: Whickering Place by London Clarke

Author:London Clarke [Clarke, London]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Horror
Publisher: Carfax Abbey Publishing
Published: 2019-07-30T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Humans never cease to amaze us with their diabolical and often creative ways to be just as evil, crafty, and manipulative as are we.

“Where there’s a will there’s a way” has never been truer than when a person is obsessed with possessing something or someone—a concept we share with the human species.

Whickering Place binding coins have been a sought-after prize for members of The Colony. The vampire in possession of a binding coin can command and carry spirits with them. They can bend an unsuspecting human’s will to theirs or get rid of said human altogether. Traditionally, however, the coins have remained at Whickering Place until needed.

Today, that changes.

Avery did not dispose of the coins as she had intended. An oversight? Perhaps. Or perhaps we were at work, our fingers in her brain, distracting her, and ensuring our will was done.

As Maris departs Whickering Place in the wee hours of the morning, we grasp her head and tilt it, allowing her line of vision to graze the ground under the bushes. A velveteen sack resting under a hedge. A lucky find.

Some of us travel with her to her next location, the downtown vampire lair, Odd Bods.

Now, inside, Maris approaches the bar, where a woman with long, flaxen hair looks up at her. “Hey, Maris.”

“Cassie, is Cadel in yet?”

The girl shakes her head, runs a rag over the top of the bar. “I haven’t seen him.”

Maris leans in. “He’s supposed to be arriving in town today. Call me the second he comes in.” She orders a hemo-martini and sits at a table. For now, the room is empty, but soon, the place will be teeming with other vampires.

We tremble with anticipation and salivate. Here, amongst so many who are willing to do our bidding, the possibilities are endless.

We climb on top of Maris’s head—the perfect lookout.

She pulls out her cellphone and types a group text.

We have a mole amongst us. Far too many police are asking questions. Watch what you say and to whom.

Moments later, an auburn-haired woman ascends the stairs at the other end of the room, crosses, and sits at the table next to Maris. “Just got your text. What the hell is going on?”

Maris sighs, slams her hands down on the table. “I got a text from Ebony. We’ve got a bleeder, Lacey. Someone is playing us, feeding information to select members of the police. Feds are getting involved.”

“Do you know who it is?”

Maris frowns. “Don’t know who it is yet. But I’ll find out. I have lots of connections with the local police.”

“Shit. What are we going to do?” Lacey points up at the bar toward the flaxen-haired girl. “Cassie told me that some detectives were in here last week—one afternoon before the bar opened. Said they asked her a bunch of questions.”

Maris raises and lowers her hands. “Calm down. First of all, we have our own people in place, working to make sure no one has anything concrete on us. Right now, they only have suspicions.

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