Drake stood in the center of his temporary chamber, draped in his gown, his hair slicked back from his brow. He stared at the boards nailed over the window while he plotted his next move. He was safely out of reach of the Order for now, but their tentacles could stretch far when necessary. And now that they were looking for him, they’d definitely be on the move. The come down from the dizzying heights of the Loop to a rundown, pissant slum was a necessary step backward. He needed to lay low, to have his fanghead protectors keep him cover till he worked out what to do next. He didn’t even feel safe still being in Chicago, but he couldn’t stray too far; he hadn’t decided if his future lay in this city or somewhere else.
It all came down to what he did with the Eye.
He sighed and reached up for the solid silver pendant hanging around his neck. The one that contained the Eye. Stealing it from Leviah was more than a risk; if Leviah had caught even a sniff of him sneaking around his quarters, he’d have torn him to shreds and fed the remains to the seagulls loitering at the edges of the Chicago River. It was Veronica that told him to do it; her idea. She knew all too well the influence the Eye had over Leviah and the Order. Her vision was to bring the Order to its knees. Drake shared that vision. And he put the plan in motion. But now the Eye was in his grasp, and he could feel the vibrations, the darkly ecstatic thrum it emitted, he found himself caught in two minds.
The power was in his grasp. Should he just hand it over to Veronica? He didn’t trust her.
He clenched the pendant tight. It enveloped him in an aura of spite and sheer fearless rage that he never thought possible, even going full vampire didn’t hold the promise the Eye had. It was the conduit to pure evil, the telescope into the black heart, the grim void that he’d sought for so long even before Leviah had come and taken him to the dark place, given him that blissful taste of his unique venom and turned him to their side. Leviah placed his trust in Drake, making him his lieutenant, something the low-level street thug gangs of Chicago couldn’t even dream of. Those punks weren’t jack compared to the Order. And Drake then found out what real power was; his limited lifespan now limitless, the visions, the domination, the thrill of being part of a secretive organization. Being at the very pinnacle of it, with soldiers beneath him, helping to mold society in the way they saw fit, which was usually to humanity’s detriment. And why not? Screw em. What good were they? Bags of bones rotting away from the moment they pull their first pitiful breath. Drake nodded to himself. Yeah, Leviah and the Order’s vision was so much better than the Creator’s. more advanced, structured. It had a direction, a plan, something severely lacking on the other side...
And Drake had been full on with that plan until Veronica showed up with her alternate vision. “We can lead the Order,” she’d whispered into his ear, her voice taking on the delectable tone of a scheming harlot. “You can lead the Order,” she’d added with a lick of her lips. “All we need is the Eye...” That precious relic Leviah guarded like a jealous lover. And it was in his grip.
And now that he had it, and absorbed its ethereal jolts like a static charge, he was finding himself reconsidering. Why hand the power over to Veronica? The thing he’d risked his existence for? All that he’d gained attained, to lose it in an instant? No, he had three clear choices. One: hand the Eye over to Veronica and trust that she wouldn’t double cross him. Two: bribe Leviah; offer the Eye in return for even more power.
Or, three: keep the Eye for himself and take his place as the new head of the Order. Vampire King Drake. It sounded, kinda nice...
He’d need an army to take down Leviah, and that would take time. But, with the Eye on his side, he had collateral.
A shiver coursed through him; something that hadn’t happened in what seemed an eternity. The Eye was helping him to feel again. But it was all darkness. Hate, bile, jealousy, revenge. Exquisite emotions and states of mind that fueled rage, the very thing that destroyed armies and civilizations. Power itself.
He rolled his eyes to the left and gazed down at the lump sitting in the dirty, broken chair in the corner of the room. He was staring into the gloom ahead with blank eyes, his hands curled up into fists. Ready to protect his father whenever necessary. Nighttime had fallen and it was time to feed.
“You! Marlon!” Drake called in a stern voice.
Marlon’s glazed eyes rolled up toward him.
“Over here!” Drake ordered.
Marlon got to his feet and marched over to his master with the obedience of a well-trained dog.
Drake now rolled his eyes up to meet Marlon’s. He grinned. Big guys always made the best protection. He stood on tiptoes, before he grabbed Marlon’s jaw, and snapped his head back. In one swift movement, he thrust his open mouth toward Marlon’s pulsing jugular, sinking his teeth into the flesh. He immediately sucked out the precious life force before injecting his pleasure into Marlon’s system. The pendant containing the Eye bounced rhythmically on his chest as he fed, sending tremors of hate coursing through him.
Alongside the coppery taste of blood, the sensation was beyond bliss.