A/N: If you ever get confused or forget about which boys belong to which bloodline, refer back to the first chapter.
Read on:

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Chapter 3:

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James Danvers and the other Covenant boys tried to ignore the three jerk-boys that had just entered the bar, but they didn't seem to want to ignore them, and began to head over to the pool tables where Wayne, Joe, James and Beatrice stood. At their presence things immediately fell tense.

Much like the Covenant, their ancestors also bore the Power, and took a similar oath of silence that they called 'the Concordat'. For as long as the Covenant was in existence, so was the Concordat. Their ancestors had been rivals, and over the years nothing had changed. The Concordats were rogues among the 'Oath-takers'; they thought their Power made them superior to all others. They were schooling at a rival prep in Salem, so those that knew nothing of the Power figured it was simply school spirit that aroused the tense, never-ending competition between the boys. They competed in practically everything there was to compete in, from sports, to school, to girls, to cars.

"Well, looky what we have here," the Concordat leader, Damien Roth, said in his deep and taunting voice. "If it ain't the 'Sons of Ipswich'."

Damien was their leader, and the worst of them all. His hair was black with the spiky tips dyed blood red, his appearance bringing that of a slimy demon to James's mind. His eyes were a boring brown, but very intimidating. While his friends had an honest streak in them, he was the one who had taught them how to really fight dirty. He was a bully and a pervert, and loved to get people angry no matter the convenience.

"Hey," Wayne said, nodding in Damien's direction. "Ain't it past your bedtime, Roth?"

He ignored Wayne's comments, and stared past him, running a slimy tongue over his lips. His hungry eyes were on Beatrice.

"Hey, Bee," he said in a husky voice. "I like the outfit. Really shows off the goods."

She turned her gaze away from him haughtily.

"Bite me," she snapped.

"You just name the place, babe," he retorted with a suggestive smile.

Wayne stepped up between the two, a repulsed look on his face, like he was the one insulted for Beatrice.

"The lady doesn't want you, Damien," he said threateningly.

"Yeah," Damien's blond crony, Blake Hunter, piped in. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Parry?"

"You want to take this outside, Hunter?"

"Guys," Joe stood between them. "Let's keep this civil, huh? Before a Concordat gets hurt."

"You have a lot of nerve," the third Concordat, an Asian named Sean Wen, said. He stepped up to Joe's face as well. "Word on the street is, you don't have the authority around these parts anymore."

James watched Joe's face fold into anger, but Sean wasn't done yet.

"They say it got taken away because someone couldn't hack it," Sean taunted Joe mercilessly. "Couldn't get over how he failed to save his baby sister because he couldn't back up his talk…"

Sean shoved Joe roughly, hoping to ensue a fight, but knew that Joe wouldn't let himself fight back. It was a cheap shot.

"Why don't you fight me, huh?" Sean challenged. "Chicken?"

Joe looked him straight in the eye, but said nothing.

"You used to be good," Sean said. "Are you still good, Garwin?"

Joe said nothing.

"I said," Sean asked again slowly. "Are you still good?"

When Joe still refused to rise to his baiting, Sean let his fist fly at Joe's face. A flash of black in Joe's eyes, and Sean ended up hitting himself in the face and falling to the floor.

"Better than you," Joe replied, taking a swig of his drink and simply walking out the front door, most likely to take another of his 'pensive walks'. James let him go.

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Joe slammed the door after himself, pacing off his anger in the alleyway. He kicked a dumpster to vent his rage, but nothing eased his pain. He didn't even think about Using again. It would only make him feel worse. He couldn't believe that punk would drive him to Using in the first place. He leaned forward on the wall, placing his hands on the cold metal as if a policeman had just told him to 'spread 'em'. Anger was in the place of tears, panting in the place of anger.

Just breathe… he told himself over and over.

"Worked you up good, didn't he?" said a female voice behind him. Joe straightened quickly, as was his first instinct. Covering it up in front of people was the best way he knew how of dealing with the pain. He had become good at that.

He turned to see a blonde woman with bright blue eyes, smoking a cigarette in the cold night air of the alley. She wore a tight black dress and a high-collared coat with many buckles, like she had just come from a party. She blew out the smoke from her mouth, but seemed emotionless and stoic.

Joe raised an eyebrow in her direction, not glad for the company.

"You heard?" he glared.

"I know, I know," she said, bringing the cigarette to her lips once more. "Now you'll have to kill me, right?"

"You're on my list." Joe's words could be considered humorous, but he didn't do anything to hint so, not breaking a smile or not even that joking look reflecting in his eyes. "What name should I write?"

The girl looked up at Joe, seemingly reevaluating him. Finally, she let her smile shine through. She tapped the ashes off the end of her cigarette.

"Just call me 'the Mysterious Blond'."

Joe eyed her curiously, trying to guess if she was a threat.

"Don't worry," she replied to his questioning face. She finally dropped her cigarette to the ground, and crushed it underfoot. "You don't have to worry about me. I won't tell. I have enough trouble as it is without adding this into the mix."

As she began to make her leave, Joe frowned, deciding this wasn't going to be the last he was going to see of this woman if he had anything to do with it.

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"So where's the fourth loser?" Damien asked whoever would answer, ignoring his groaning lackey on the floor. "Where's Sims? Stayed at home like a good little boy?"

Wayne burst out laughing very suddenly, much to everyone's confusion.

"What you laughing at, Parry?" Damien demanded.

"At Sims, currently hitting on your girlfriend."

At this, the rest of them exploded in laughter as well, and even one of his friends began to chuckle, as Damien whirled around to see Glenn at the bar, smiling at a pretty brunette.

"Rosie?" Damien said aloud in horror.

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"I'm Glenn, by the way," Glenn said with a charming smile. He tried his best to hide his blushing cheeks that involuntarily fell hot around pretty girls. "Glenn Sims."

He shook the girl's hand at last, and she smiled warmly in return.

"Rosalind O'Hara. My friends call me Rosie."

"Can I call you Rosie?"

She laughed at his joke.

"Sure," she said with a nod. "I'd like that."

Suddenly Glenn felt a hand grasp him by the collar and drag him off the barstool to his feet. His eyes grew wide at the site before him.

"Damien!" he said with wide eyes. "I… didn't see you come in!"

"You'd better get used to sittin' in a wheelchair, because when I'm done with you--"

But as Damien was about to let his fist fly, the girl was on her feet.

"Damien!" she said threateningly. "If you lay one finger on this boy, we are through. For good."

Damien looked at Glenn, weighing his options. Glenn stared back at Damien, wondering if he would live to see tomorrow. Slowly but surely, Damien began to loosen his grip on Glenn's collar.

When he finally let go, he grabbed Rosalind by the arm and stormed to the door without a word. She only had time for one final look Glenn's way, before she was taken out of sight.

A bald man behind the counter, whom Glenn assumed was the owner after which the bar was named, ran a flustered hand over his face.

"I'm going to have to buy me a baseball bat for these crazy kids," he mumbled.

"Sorry about that," Glenn said sincerely to him. "Any damage done, I'll pay double."

Nicky shook his head in dismissal, waving the boy off.

"Whatever."

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I have posted a whole new album specifically for my Covenant stories. The link is now up on my page. Please review.
Signed,
--RedRogue