The Dark Gifts Birthright (15 page)

In the realm of magic wielders, both white
and dark witches dwelled. As with everything, there is always good
and evil. Monroe had paired with a dark witch, an enemy to this
particular coven. A spell was cast, and with the use of a lock of
Michael’s hair, an enchantment was placed on Liz and Michael. There
was no way that they could be in the near vicinity of each other
and not feel it. Knowing Michael’s habits and hunting grounds, it
was only a matter of time before they ran into each other.

Monroe took her the first time, in her own
back yard. After the attack, the family placed many protective
spells around the child’s home in an effort to keep her safe. The
second time he took her blood, she was four. That time, he did more
than take. He also gave.

Liz’s great-grandmother had figured out what
was going on. She sensed the change in Liz and after delving into
the matter, knew she’d ingested vampire blood. She knew that one
more bite from a vampire would turn her and it wasn’t hard to
figure the rest out from there. Without Minerva's permission, Liz's
grandmother had immediately set out to find him and take his life.
When they found her charred body, it was obvious a powerful dark
magic had been used against her. The entire coven kept a close eye
on the girl after that. Liz never knew she was rarely far from at
least one of the coven.

After many years had passed, they became lax
in watching her. Everyone assumed that Monroe had given up his
effort to claim her. With all the protection spells, if Monroe had
come anywhere near them, they would have known immediately. But
Monroe had no intention of coming near the girl again. His plan was
always about bringing down Michael by using his perceived crime to
gain control of the Council.

Fifteen witch covens stood ready to come to
the aid of Michael and his followers. Like it or not, Michael was
now the leader of the vampire nation. The witches would only
acknowledge him. Even though he felt that Big Jon would be the
better leader, he had no choice. The witches would answer to no
other.

The circumstances of the vampires had changed
drastically; they had extremely powerful allies now. The witches
knew of nine vampire clans who also shared in their desire to
reinstate the Council and the vampire law. Each enclave already had
a coven of witches placed near them ready to act.

Now it was time to bring the leaders of each
nest together and strategize. Michael had his army, and they were a
deadly force to be reckoned with.

Chapter Nine

The Light in the Darkness

It was almost a blessing to discover the
nightmares haunting her youth were real memories. Now Liz
understood why Monroe seemed familiar.

As a child, she had started wondering if she
was crazy. Even then, no one had told her the truth. Several nights
a week, she would wake covered in sweat and terrified. The dreams
were always vivid, and unlike most people, she had no trouble
remembering every detail. When she was very young, she would relay
the dreams to her mother.

“
Mom, I had that dream again.”

A quick look of fear would pass over her
mother's face before being replaced with a smile. “Oh, really? Well
tell me about it, was anything different this time?”

“
No, not really. Just the scary man biting
me, but it was so real.”

Her mother would hug her and pat her head
saying, “It's just a dream, sweetie, there's no such thing as
monsters.”

But there were monsters, many of them. And
now Liz had become one.

Needing answers, she began spending time at
the witch's camp. Sitting around the campfire with her family
almost made her feel normal again. “You seem out of sorts this
evening. Everything all right?” Liz's mother asked.

“Now don't trouble the girl, Marie, she's
just thinking. It's good for her to have time to think.” Minerva
said.

“She is still my daughter and I still have
the right to ask what is troubling her.” Marie answered.

Liz peered into the face that would have been
hers one day, had she been mortal and aged. Except for the scarcely
obvious age difference, and Marie’s shoulder length hair, they
could have been twins. Giving her mother a half smile, she winked
and answered, “I'm fine. I'm just having a nice big pity party for
myself.”

Minerva moved to sit beside her and patted
her leg. “Spill it.”

“Now who's bothering her?” Marie laughed and
joined them.

“Nothing to spill, Gran. Really, I'm just
lonely and missing Michael.”

The old woman slid her arm around Liz's
shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “You feel so hard now. Funny that.
I suppose I should be used to the changes by now.”

Relaxing against Minerva's body, Liz laid her
head on Gran's shoulder and sighed. “I don't know how you could. I
can't get used to it, and it's me.”

“I know, honey. I'm sorry you have to go
through this. We did the very best we could to keep you from it.”
She looked down at this grown woman in her arms, remembering the
days when she fit there easily, and sighed.

“Gran? Why didn't you train me to be a
witch?”

“Well you never had the dreams.”

“What dreams?”

“Prophetic dreams, dear. We know when the
gift is passed on because at thirteen a young witch begins having
dreams.”

“I had nightmares, not dreams.”

“I know dear.” She said as she stroked her
hair. “I always feared it would come to this.”

“So did I,” her mother quietly agreed.

Liz sat up searching their faces. “Who else
has it?”

Minerva stiffened but held her gaze. “That is
no one's business. Not yours and not the rest of the worlds.” The
harsh tone of her voice softened as she went on, “We keep that
private, dear. Like the vampires, we guard our secrets
closely.”

“But why?”

Marie reached out hesitantly, taking Liz's
cold hand in hers. Touching her undead daughter was still an issue
she struggled with. “Do you remember, back in fourth grade, when
Tommy Owens made fun of you for wearing that short skirt?”

“Yes, but I--”

“And how his mother jumped on the principle
for not having a formal dress code at the school?”

“Yes.”

“Darling, if people got that upset about a
short skirt, how would they react to a coven of witches living in
town. Especially when most of our family was part of it?”

Straightening her long skirt over crossed
legs, Minerva said, “All you really need to know is that you come
from a long line of white-witch warriors. Throughout time, your
ancestors have fought on the side of good.”

Liz looked at her feet before answering.
“Yes, and their worst enemies were what I am now.”

Minerva placed her hand under Liz's chin
lifting it. “No dear. You are nothing like those that were hunted.
And you will never be.”

“That's right. Now why don't you go find your
sister and see if she needs help?” Marie said.

“Yeah, because Abbie so loves it when I'm
hanging around.” Liz laughed.

“Now, Liz--”

“It's okay. I really can't. I need to get
back and help with the training. Twenty-five new recruits have
shown up in the last two days and Michael’s hands are already full.
Give Abbie a hug for me,” she whispered as she placed a light kiss
on Minerva's cheek.

“Don't worry dear, she'll get used to it.
They both will.” She whispered back.

***

Michael and Big Jon met with various leaders
from nine vampire covens. Tiberius, Rene, and Gabrielle were solid
leaders, each having good reason to back Michael and stand against
Monroe. Their camps had the same story: death, destruction and
total annihilation of any that did not defer to the new Council
rule. All were in hiding and preparing for war. Many nights passed
before they had a workable battle plan.

Moving methodically, Angie filled Michael's
now empty glass, and with no expression whatsoever, raised the
pitcher in offering to the others. Although warm, the dark fluid
appeared thick and unappetizing. “Thank you, but I'll pass,” Rene
answered politely.

Big Jon and Tiberius nodded and she moved to
refill the blood stained glasses. After taking a long drink,
Tiberius wrinkled his nose. “Disgusting. I've never been partial to
animal blood.”

“I don't know that many of us prefer it, but
we must make do with what we have,” Big Jon answered.

Irritated, Michael finished his and said, “If
we are done commiserating, I'd like to get back to the plan.”

Rene's jaw muscles pulled tight. “As you
wish.” His thin body, coupled with lanky arms and legs, belied the
warrior inside. Apparent youth and soft features played into the
illusion that the man was no threat. However, those that had
sparred with him knew different. Rene’s mind and skill in battle
strategy weren’t the only things that made him dangerous.

Once again, tension filled the room. Big Jon
cleared his throat. “We need to establish where the rogues are
hiding and who controls them. We are assuming that Monroe is the
culprit, but he could be working with any number of elder
vampires.”

Michael rose and placed his glass in the
sink. Dismissing the barely responsive Angie with a nod, he
answered, “Agreed. He is not an ancient; his powers are strong but
limited.”

Draining his glass, Tiberius leaned back in
his chair. “Monroe doesn't have enough intelligence to run
something of this magnitude alone. There must be a driving force
behind him.”

The men nodded in agreement.

“William?” Michael called out.

Within seconds, William materialized in front
of him. “Yes?”

“Nothing new from those inside?”

“Only what we've already been told. He holds
command at the fortress with four generals at his disposal. His
army consists of at least sixty Unnamed, one-hundred old ones, and
four hundred fifty newly-made.”

Silent until now, Gabrielle rubbed his face.
“There's no point in any of this. We cannot possibly take on that
many. It is ridiculous to even consider. Unless we are going to
start turning humans left and right, we will never win this
battle.”

Leaning against the counter, Michael crossed
his arms. “We have one hundred fifty-seven vampires, and one
hundred ninety-five witches at our disposal. More are arriving
every day. We are training, they are learning. This is not the time
to doubt our cause.”

“Do you think they are not training? Monroe
is a coward, not an idiot. He would not have started this if he
didn't believe he could win.” Tiberius said.

“Exactly.” Gabrielle chimed in.

Big Jon's mouth slid into a toothy grin.
“That is correct. But we have something they don't.”

Rene gave a derisive snort. “What is
that?”

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the
table, Big Jon cocked his head to the side. “They don't have a
thoroughly trained assassin--that could best any one of
them--training their forces. I've worked with him myself, and you
won't catch me picking a fight with him.”

Michael smiled giving him a slight nod. “I
don't know that I'd want to battle with you either.” He paused to
look at their faces before continuing. “We may not have the numbers
to win, but we have the will. And we have the witches. This is not
an impossible undertaking. If it is well-planned and precisely
executed, we can do this.”

The leaders muttered their agreements and
talk returned to strategy.

Once the war effort was in full swing,
Michael and Liz were only able to communicate with telepathy. He
worked on battle plans and strategies and she trained the newest
members. The incoming joined with the ready, each working
diligently to prepare for war. There was no confusion as to what
would happen to the losers of this battle, it was win or die.

Then a great silence came. Like the quiet
pause before a storm. No new information came in. They were wound
tight and ready to pounce. All they needed was a trigger to set
things in motion. Vampires, ghosts, and witches alike, waited
rather impatiently for it. The witches read stars, tea leaves, and
old bones in an attempt to foretell the future, but they could not
see what would come. That trigger came in the most unusual of
ways.

Her name was Jenna. Small for her age, she
was precious and fragile, having a beautiful sweet innocence only
found in human children. Chocolate colored hair hung to her waist,
framing soft brown eyes. The cute little dimples in her cheeks
showed even when she wasn’t smiling, and her chubby little cherub
face lit up like a star in the early evening when she did. It was
just before sunrise when they heard her crying. Her wailing sobs
could be heard from even the basement of the old house. On lookout
for anything unusual, sentries were dispatched to inform Michael.
They didn’t want to be caught in an ambush trying to rescue a
crying child. He entered her thoughts.

Jenna sat in the backseat of a car listening
to her parents talk, and staring at the stars through the window.
The quiet hum from the engine made her sleepy. Wind blew through a
small opening in the front passenger window, caught a strand of her
mother’s long dark hair, and sent it trailing into the backseat.
The girl leaned forward and giggled as it tickled her face.

Her father looked into the rear view mirror.
“What's going on back there?” Noticing what Jenna was doing, he
laughed. “Mommy, you are officially on tickle duty.”

“Yes, Mommy. Come sit back here with me.”

Her mother's head turned slightly. Gusty wind
caught more of her hair and showered Jenna's face. “Darling, do you
have--”

Screeching tires and a feeling of
weightlessness. Pain, darkness, more pain, her mother's scream.
Then everything went black. Michael could not access anything
further in her mind.