Shadow Guardians: The Key
Chapter 10

The New York club scene was bustling. Hot chicks hanging around corners flashing tits and dough, flashing never-ending advertisements on the sides of buildings, cars passing you by and spraying the remnants of rain on the roads all over you. And of course loud music and bass booming and struggling for supremacy from various clubs and bars.

Rip, real name Abach, and his pals; Loki, Ruse and Strix were promenading the pavement and waiting for the servant to arrive to take them back to the compound.

“Two of them are better than one, I’m tellin’ you Strix,” Loki said, lighting up a cig. “Those chicks are sic, good value for money.”

“Strix only goes for the redheads,” Ruse rolled his shoulders like he was getting ready for a fight, but in fact, he’d been having so much casual sex since his transition, his whole body felt like he’d been working out for days straight. “He thinks they’re into that dom-sub sex shit.”

Strix smirked, and adjusted his sunglasses. “I like it rough, what can I say?”

“What’s flying your flag, Rip?”

Rip swept his eyes over them. “From behind. They’re just whores. I mount them like whores.” Something in his tone of voice told his buds to keep the conversation to themselves.

Rip had been thinking of nothing but beating the crap out of that little twit Uriah. His fellow post-transition nosferi were all about fucking right now, and he did his fair share. Taking the females from behind until he got off, and leaving them where they were. He could care less if they finished or not. To hell with’em. They were whores. He was feeling nothing more than the craving to grab that ass-kisser by the throat and squeeze.

In his father’s eyes, Rip had never been good enough. And now thanks to Uriah, he wasn’t good enough for the real warriors either. He didn’t want to fight with the nosferi. They raided the hangouts of khad, cleaned up the messes, made sure the public remained unaware of what went on. Hell, for all he knew he could land a damn admin job with them. He didn’t want that shit. He wanted to fight with the big guys. Wear the leathers instead of the combat gear, fight the demons instead of the lesser creatures. It would look good on him, show his father that he was a bastard to be feared.

Why the hell did Uriah had to have it so easy? What did he do to get their attention? Just because he was a vampire? Rip had of course heard that vampires were stronger than nosferi. Bullshit. And he was going to prove it.

Trouble was, the little shit had just disappeared. Probably moved into the house with the brothers like the lapdog he was. Man, he wished he could see his mug just one more time. He’d show him exactly how weak he was. A devious smile crept across Rip’s face as he thought of bending him over just like one of the whores he’d taken. He didn’t deserve to be in the warrior-class.

He was propelled out of his own head when his buds stopped dead in front of him.

“What’s wrong with you lot?” he demanded. He spoke to them with authority. At least they knew their place. Uriah had a tough time learning his.

He shoved his way through them. About twenty feet in front of them stood a vampire brother, Draven. In the night, with his leathers and his scars and the brutal face, he was like a murderous criminal fresh out of prison. In a flash of movement, Rip was smashed against the nearest wall and held by his shit brown duffle jacket. He was forced to stare into mismatched eyes.

“Hello Rip,” he sneered viciously.

Even though Rip was quaking, he wouldn’t show weakness. Maybe this was a test of strength. “What,” he said evenly.

“You went after Uriah,” Draven was so torqued his fangs were extended to their full length, which meant he couldn’t close his mouth all the way.

Fuck. This was about that little shit? Of course. Seeing that the guy was angry as a bat out of hell, Rip tried to reason with him, tried to stroke his ego. “Come’on man. That twerp ain’t worth your time. I’ve wanted to be like you for ever since I got here. And I’ve been working my ass off to join the warriors. I don’t want to be stuck with the nosferi. Uriah can’t even land a punch straight, and you want him on your team? He’s pathetic at everything.”

The nefarious smirk Draven gave him scared the piss out of him. He expected him to punch those white and shiny fangs into his neck and take out a big hump of flesh. His buds were huddled together like a bunch of penguins five feet from them. Unexpectedly, Draven dropped him, and turned around to leave.

Rip straightened his jacket, satisfied that the brother saw it his way, and damn sure that Uriah was getting kicked out of the program.

Except Draven spun on the ball of his foot and punched Rip full in the face with a fist that stung like the lightning hammer of Thor. It was a hard punch thrown all the way from the shoulder, and Rip staggered back, but miraculously stayed on his feet. The next punch was a jab to the body, sudden and hard, that sent him down to his knees. All he saw was a flash of blonde hair.

Somewhere in the dizziness, he was aware that his buds had run off. He stumbled in some direction to get away, and bumped into a growling monster with glowing teal eyes. Wait, that was Magnus, but the voice didn’t sound like him. Yeah that sounded like the deep growl of a dragon. A knee connected to his belly and he bent over again, wanting to throw up but spitting nothing but blood and teeth. Teeth?!

Another bomb hit him in the face, this one sending him to the ground with his brain slushing around in his skull. He tasted a whole lot of blood, and yes, felt that three of his teeth were missing. A sharp pain shot through his head all the way down into his toes as he was dragged by the hair. He felt his leg being yanked up, and something tied around it just as he passed out.

When Rip came to he was blinded by bright white light, and he felt his limbs being stretched in opposite directions. Feet going south, arms going the other way. And there was nothing beneath him but air. Blinking away the grogginess, he lifted his head. The first thing he saw was the backside of Draven. He looked over his shoulder to him then, a venomous disfigured face that snarled so, his upper lip lifted off fully extended fangs.

Rip could have just crapped his pants at that point. Draven was hauling him with the rope over his shoulder, his feet tied together. Rip raised his head. His hands were also restrained and tied to a vehicle. The light was emitted by the headlights. Whoever was driving put the car in reverse while Draven ploughed forward. This naturally resulted in Rip being stretched out like taffy. He wanted to scream, but found he couldn’t, since he had a ballgag in his mouth. He must have been in this posture for some time, based on the feel of his body. They weren’t moving very fast.

The true terror struck him when he realized where he was. In the Roxbury countryside. Oh…gods, they were bringing him home! He struggled around in an attempt to break free. Not like this, his father couldn’t see him. He’d be mocked and punished for the rest of his life for being such a wimp, for not joining the ranks of the warriors. Utter humiliation awaited him. That was all there was for him back in that mansion.

Eventually they came to a halt before the lavish five story house with its wheat colored bricks and high dark roof. The windows where colonial style, long and narrow and arched. And the house was surrounded by garden paths, lush lawns and hedges of flowers along the edges. It was a dream come true for most people. For Rip it was a place of horror.

The colonial-style meeting room was timelessly elegant and classically decorated. The room was large, with a high ceiling and large windows overlooking the gardens. The walls were painted with a warm off white, the floors covered in dark hardwood. The furniture was a mix of modern and antique. The centerpiece of the room was the large wooden table, surrounded by comfortable chairs, perfect for hosting meetings of the aristocracy, such as the one currently ongoing.

Jedediah was just about to go into the topic of preserving their traditions in an ever changing world, when three fearsome males barged in through the doors, and threw a bag of meat clear across the floor, with a smear of blood trailing behind it.

In disbelief, all twelve members rose from their seats at the table. Jedediah arched his brow. Oh, that was Abach again, making a fool of himself in front of the entire council. Jedediah had always suspected his son was a slacker who was good for nothing, weak willed at the best of times. But why did the lad continue on making a mockery of him in front of the entire council?

And what gave these warriors the right to rush into his home like animals? It was improper and impolite, a slap in the face to traditional decorum. After all, they had a social status of elegancy to maintain.

Before Jedediah could utter a word, the blonde warrior spoke. “Abach’s conduct was dishonorable and his performance below par. He has been stripped of his rank and is no longer welcome in our compound.”

Humiliation and anger tightened Jedediah’s face. Abach was sobbing softly on the ground, his face swollen and his lip torn. What in gods’ name had been done to him? “How dare you come into my home and call my son dishonorable? You? Who are nothing but savages running around with weapons all night and have no time for civilized life?”

While he wasn’t by any means satisfied with his son, one of the main reasons why Jedediah had been elected as chairman was because the other council members were of the belief that his son would be a warrior. Feared and brute as they were, they were respected in some circles still. Some. The vampires were capable of higher reasoning of course, but everyone knew that at their very base, they were simply vicious animals. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

And as that thought crossed his mind, the biggest of the three males growled long and low, his teal eyes illuminating and plummeting the warmth of the room down to subzero. The rumble so primal and threatening, that some of the council members treaded a few steps back in distress.

They dematerialized out of his house without another word.

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