His lips curve into a knowing smile, the red in his eyes sparking. “You make it sound like I’m the one bringing trouble.”
I return his smile and shake my head. “I would never imply that. I merely want to know what dragged your ass into our club.”
“I’ve not been here five minutes. How about adrink first?” He inhales deeply. “I could smell what you’re offering from the moment my foot crossed the threshold. I must say, the scent has me salivating.” He licks his lips, scenting the air.
My fists clench, and I snarl. “That scent is not available.”
He arches a scarred brow. “Interesting.”
“Enough of this bullshit. Tell us why you’re here and what we need to prepare for,” Hex snaps.
I don’t berate him for cutting in. He’s right.
Cain lifts his hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll start by saying they know you went looking for answers. They followed your trail, leaving destruction in their wake.”
“The vampires we spoke to?” I ask, brows furrowed.
“Gone.” He pauses, rubbing his dark, stubbled chin. “You’ve heard of Anathema?” He looks between my brothers and me. We all nod. We’ve been told the stories about the myths and legends surrounding our creation.
“I haven’t,” Clutch says.
“Me, neither,” Diesel adds.
Cain nods. “Newbies. You wouldn’t have heard them. They stopped telling those stories probably two hundred years ago.”
He pulls a small ornate metal flaskfrom his jacket and takes a sip. Blood stains his bottom lip. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Long before we ruled the night, before religion had names, even before death,” he says, staring at Diesel and Clutch, “there was a mistake.”
Clutch frowns. “What do you mean, a mistake?”
Cain pulls out a chair and takes a seat. “The first of our kind—the immortals—were not meant to exist. We were a fracture in the natural order, beings that refused the cycle of life and decay.”
“If we weren’t meant to exist, then why didn’t the world—or whatever’s in charge—just erase us and start again?” Diesel asks with a shrug.
Cain grins. “If only it were that fucking simple. I mean, they did respond. Creation answered, but not by simply erasing us, not with an all-powerful god, but with Anathema.”
I walk back over to where I’d discarded the cigarettes, suddenly needing another one. I light it, close my eyes, and inhale deeply.
“I don’t get it. They were formed, so why the fuck are we still here?” Clutch asks.
“Because we are monsters of the dark,” I say, “and where there is darkness, we will always find a way to survive. Why do you think we keep our kind hidden?”
Clutch shrugs. “Because of hunters. Humans. Other covens that want power.”
Cain shakes his head. “We can easily destroy humans and others like us. We hide—we use the dark—to stay out of sight from the one thing that can end our entire kind.” He shakes his head again. “They were formed from rejection, stripped of identity, flesh, and time. They were not born. They were unmade and reshaped.”
“Jesus, you talk like you know them personally,” Clutch mutters with a shudder.
Cain doesn’t answer. No one knows his exact age. Rumour is he was one of the first of our kind. He himself is a lot like Anathema; myths and legends cling to his name.
“Okay, so how do we destroy these things? I mean, everything has a way of dying,” Diesel says.
“They exist in a state outside of death. They’re bound by laws older than mortality. Killing them is deemed impossible because there’s nothing left to kill,” Cain points out. “Destroy their form, they turn to ash and just reform elsewhere. They always fucking return,” he says through gritted teeth. “They come back stronger each fucking time.”
“So, what are we supposed to do?” Diesel asks, concern in his voice.
“That is the million-dollar question,” I add.
