Chapter 3: 1663

Place: London, England

Neera jumped off the chair she had perched herself on and landed with a light click of her nails against the cobblestone road. Running up to me and meowing loudly, she launched herself into my arms. It was starting to rain, and she was quickly becoming upset. I laughed lightly and opened my front door, smiling as she purred loudly.

Neera was my cat. I had found her as an older kitten when I first made my landing in England eight years ago, and she hadn't left my side since. She hunted on her own, and came and went as she pleased, but she always made it home before dark and before it started raining. She hated being wet, and refused to leave the house until the ground was dry. She was all dark colors, mostly black and brown, with a white dot right on the tip of her chin and another at the end of her tail.

The griffon had died almost a decade ago, and her hatchling had found her mate and left. She died right before I set sail for England, seeing her daughter and me off. I thought back to what kind of reaction the humans would have had if they had been able to see me being followed around by a half-lion, half-eagle creature standing over six feet tall at the top of her head. For some reason, only Nephilim and other magical beings could see supernatural creatures, but it made our lives easier when we were hunting; the humans didn't panic if they didn't know what was around them. They could see human disguises and glamours, but they did not have the ability to see beyond them. Creatures like the griffon did not have a disguise, and so were not seen at all. Humans would walk right through them without any knowledge, and the creatures wouldn't feel it, either. The humanoid nature of magical beings and Nephilim acted as a bridge between the worlds, so to speak.

I set my keys and my bag down on the kitchen table and Neera climbed up on my shoulder. She was a petite thing, so she fit perfectly. My clients loved coming in for treatments and having her visit them. She could be nasty with people she didn't know or didn't like, but she was a love any other time. People called her my guard cat, as I lived by myself and my neighbors had worried about me when I first moved in. They were not far off. She once attacked a man who had come by without an appointment, resulting in my having to heal those wound, as well. Neera also had a very keen sense of the supernatural, but that was not uncommon in animals. She had a different reaction to the different kinds of monsters we would come across, but only those who used human disguises or glamours to hide their true forms.

I went into the clinic, which was in the basement, and took stock of the herbs and spices sitting on the shelves. The first thing I had done when I bought the one-story home was convert the basement into a functioning medical clinic. I had collected everything I could carry from the island, so I was very well stocked. I had added to that the plants I remembered from my mother's practice, collecting them from the forests and clearings a small distance outside of London. I was only using runes for ailments I did not have a medicinal cure for, but no one acted the wiser.

All of my clients were humans, as Nephilim could use their own runes and other supernatural beings had their own way to heal themselves. The other beings usually stayed as far away from Nephilim as possible, but they sometimes came to me to restock their own supply of medicinal plants. Nephilim were charged with protecting humans from monsters, demons, and other creatures, but I was not like the zealots who tried to kill any non-Nephilim supernatural who walked by. If they were doing nothing wrong, I did not bother them, and they did not bother me.

I had killed a few werewolves stalking school children as they walked home and a coven of vampires torturing the homeless during my eight years in London, but I hadn't heard until only a few days ago about the human religious group hunting for vampires in the tunnels and abandoned buildings. They had apparently killed a few groups of homeless people, accusing them of being vampires, but no one would tell me where they were. No one knew. One client had heard that the reverend had handed over leadership to his son, who was slightly more capable, but I had no proof of this. I was waiting for another vision to tell me where they would head next.

As I thought back to the vision that drove me to London so long ago, I realized I had never had a vision so far in the future. Normally, they were only a few hours ahead and of someone being targeted by a supernatural. They also always came true because it was my job to make sure of it. Anything I saw would come to pass, but the events before and after the segment of the future I saw could change. This wasn't like that. This had been only a place and a year, not a person or an event. I had had no idea why I needed to be in London by this time, but apparently I did. I would find out soon enough.

Sighing softly, I tallied up the numbers and made a short list of plants I needed to collect in a few days. I had no appointments after the next two days, so I decided to use the time wisely. Patches of each of the plants could be found in the forest a few miles from my home, and it would give me time to myself, just to think.

Neera led me back up the stairs, but stopped and looked at me half-way up. I held tightly to the railing as my vision changed from my basement stairs to a clearing with a small stream running off to the side. I had seen it before as I was collecting roots, but before I could contemplate why I would be having a vision of the place, I had another:

A young man, most likely in his mid-twenties, stood before a small crowd holding stakes and torches. He had light blond hair, blue eyes, and sharp features. He was of medium build, but to those standing before him, he was ten feet tall. They seemed to worship him as he spoke, telling them of the coven of vampire—a true coven—that had been discovered living in the tunnels. He wanted to lead them to destroy the "monstrosities," "the unholy beings of the night," but was warning them of the dangers. How some may not return whole or even alive. Right as the group was cheering their support and agreement, the vision flashed ahead.

The same young man was crouched down with a stake in one hand and a dying torch in the other. His face was screwed up in concentration as he darted forward and swung the stake at an invisible assailant. A hiss could be heard from the same direction, and the vampire sprung forward, causing the man to lose his grip on the stake and crash into the brick wall behind him. His head cracked against the wall, and he crumpled to the ground. The torch sputtered and died as the vampire lunged forward, sinking his fangs into the man's neck.

The vision ended with the blond man screaming out in pain and time slipping three days ahead to when his agony finally ended. Between his screaming and the passage of time, I knew for certain that this man was going to turn into a vampire. From what I could tell, the attack would happen this very night.

What I did not understand was why I had these visions. I guessed that the clearing was where I had to be in . . . four days, but the second was puzzling. Normally, I had visions of things I had to either cause or prevent from happening to someone, but what I had seen was something that was going to happen no matter what.

I sighed softly, my vision finally bringing me back to Neera and my basement. She sat on her step and meowed at me, tilting her head to the side. I gave her a small smile and patted her head lightly, scooping her up into my arms when she started to purr. I nuzzled my face against her as I continued up the stairs and laughed when she licked my nose.

"My plans have changed a little, my old friend," I said, looking down at her graying face. Neera meowed in response, knowing whenever I had a vision and said that, I had a mission. She was nine or ten years old, but she was still going strong. She wasn't nearly the feisty alley cat I had first met, but she still had fight left in her.

"Someone is going to be changed, little girl, and I have to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone. I want you to stay here, though. I'll be fine on this one," I continued. She rolled onto her back in my arms and gave me what could have only been a skeptical look, causing me to laugh again and kiss her head.

"Trust me, little one. And if something happens, I know you'll be here to tell me 'I told you so.' Okay?" She only huffed in response, turning away but not jumping from my arms.

Carrying her to my room, I walked straight to my closet and parted the few clothes I had hanging with one hand. The door behind them matched perfectly with the walls on either side, making it nearly impossible to see unless the person looking knew it was there. I pressed in the very center of the door, forcing it back into the track that would allow it to slide open.

Lining the walls were every weapon known to the Nephilim world, everything from swords, scimitars, silver bullets, and wooden stakes. I had everything I could ever need to kill any kind of being, creature, or demon, but the most important of them all was my seraph blades. These were blessed knives that Nephilim used against any and all supernaturals, calling upon the name of an angel to activate them.

As I grabbed two, they were only three inches long from tip to tip. If I were to activate them, they would grow to at least four-inch blades with three-inch handles, much more deadly than they looked inactivated. The stakes were made of white ash and roughly four inches long. Vampires were paralyzed by the stakes if they were hit anywhere but their heart, but a stake to the heart would immediately kill them, causing their corpses to fade to their actual age. The myth that vampires burst into flames in the sun was false, although they did find it uncomfortable. One vampire had told me it felt as though they were getting a burn, but it did not increase in intensity the longer they were out. It did, though, make the physical differences between them and humans more obvious, forcing them to stay out of the sun as much as possible if they did not want us or their own rulers after them for exposing their race. Burning or staking them were the only ways to kill them. Decapitation also worked, if one could get close enough without being killed in the process.

The silver knives standing at attention on one of the shelves were for Lycans, even though humans believe it was werewolves that were affected by the metal. Werewolves could die from an ordinary stab wound, but only as long as it killed them immediately. If they had time to heal, the likelihood of them healing enough to survive increased.

Those were only two of the weapons I had lining my walls, but I did not take the time to inventory all of them. I knew the species I was going up against, so I took what I needed, secured them in my skirts, and closed the door again. I had sewn special loops and pockets in the folds so that I was always armed, and no one was the wiser. I rarely had to use my weapons, but I felt safer with them.

Walking to the front door, I deposited Neera on the floor. She mewled in protest, but only sat where I had put her with her tail wrapped around her little feet. I wrote a quick note to my clients that I would be gone for a few days, but would get in touch with them as soon as I returned and posted it on the outside of my door. My Nephilim clients would know I was hunting, but my human ones would assume something had taken me away for a short time. They never asked, as I never pried when they cancelled last-minute, and for that, I was grateful.

The look Neera was giving me said she was going to wait there until I returned, and I could not stop myself from petting her one more time before grabbing my hooded cloak and locking the door behind me.

I raised my hood and started walking towards the closest tunnel entrance a few streets over. It was in the basement of an abandoned house owned by the Nephilim Council for just that reason. It gave us direct and constant access to a place the vampires frequented.
I suddenly heard someone calling my name from behind me, and turned to see a young man, only in his late teenage years, running up to me. He had short brown hair and features that hinted at his young age, but showed his approaching manhood. The only problem was . . . he would never reach it.

Darrel was a vampire, changed just shy of his eighteenth birthday. I had met him only one year into his new life and one year after I returned to England, giving him the choice of gaining control over himself or having me kill him. He had been attacking humans in smaller towns around London, and pleaded with me to help him control himself . . .

"Please . . . Please help me . . ." the young vampire begged, throwing himself to the ground at my feet. "I don't want this . . . I don't want to be this . . . but I don't want to die. I don't want to kill. I can't fight this . . . It's so strong . . ."

"How willing are you to try, young one?" I asked calmly, keeping my seraph blade at the ready. "I am willing to help, but only if you are willing to try. I will not hesitate to end your life if you disobey me." He started nodding before I had even finished, and vocalized the same response once I finished.

"I am. I will try anything I have to. Please, just help me," he murmured, fighting against the impulse to bury his face in his hands and sob. I debated my decision for a moment before kneeling in front of him, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder and waiting until his blood-stained face tilted up to look at me. Even his red eyes begged me to help, screamed at me to do something before he went mad with guilt and misery. His mouth was half open in anxiety as he waited for my response, showing me his extended canines.

"Focus on your mouth, young one. Retract your fangs. You do this, and I will help you. If you cannot, I will know that your thirst has become too powerful. Now imagine your fangs shrinking, will them to do so," I explained, keeping my hand on him as he nodded again, his desperation to do as I said obvious in the stilted movement. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his bloody mouth forming a thin line in concentration . . .

"It's a setup, Miss Bella," he said quickly, bringing me out of my memory. "The coven set everything up. They heard about this group and the change in leadership, and they want to make an example of these humans. They are prepared for their arrival, Miss Bella, and they plan to slaughter them," he finished, the rest of the air he needed to talk rushing from his chest with a soft whoosh.

"How did this happen, Darrel?" I asked, running through all of the possibilities of what I could be walking into. He sighed softly.

"They had been watching the group go after what they thought to be vampire covens. Once the father handed over the reins, they decided to just take them out. They are still watching them, and the clan leader thinks their deaths will send a message to other hunters. One of the people in the group is part of the coven, and he told them about the coven hiding out in the tunnels tonight. The coven was told by a Volturi guard member to keep out of sight, to let the hype die down, but they are not listening. They do not want to deny themselves the fun of killing hunters," he finished with a sickened grimace. His red eyes showed his disgust at their blatant disrespect for life, something his experience had told him to cherish.

When he had finally managed to control himself a year after I began working with him, he started hunting and taking only small amounts of blood from his victims before compelling them to forget what happened. He kept himself very well sated so that he would never be tempted to drain someone and showed his gratitude towards me by keeping me up to date as much as he could on the inner workings of the vampire world.

The Volturi was the largest coven of vampires in the world with an ever-increasing number of members. They had ruled over and enforced the laws of the vampire world for over twenty-seven hundred years. Their main rule? Don't expose their world to humans. Any vampire or coven that broke this rule was immediately destroyed. They also fed from humans, but from what Darrel had overheard, they killed all of their human victims.

"How many are in this coven?" I asked, and he immediately answered with, "Four, and all of them have been vampires for around fifty years." I nodded slowly, thinking this would not be easy. Lives would definitely be lost this night, but I knew from my vision that my main concern was keeping the young blond man alive until he finished his change to vampire. For whatever reason, he needed to be changed and survive it. I turned and started walking towards the tunnels again, but Darrel grabbed my wrist.

"Miss Bella, where are you going?" he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I need to save as many of those people as I can, Darrel, and one of them in particular. I do not know how or why, but he is important and needs to live, even as a vampire. I will move him somewhere so he may finish his change, but I will not intentionally interfere afterwards unless I am given a good reason," I explained, and he nodded solemnly. He had tried to get me to change my mind before, but I knew my visions showed me people and events that were important in some way. These recent visions may have confused me, but that much I knew for certain. He had to become a vampire, and he had to survive.

"Then I am coming with you," he said, and continued before I could protest. "I will stay in the shadows and only come out if I see you needing help. Besides, you may need me once this person has made the change. You did smell human-like to me when I was a newborn, you know." I gave him a small smile and we ran to the entrance of the tunnels, watching the setting sun count down the minutes until what could only be a bloody confrontation.