Arturius and Regulus were trying to find. Something Victoria was messed up in."
"Somethin' that affected her blood? Whatever that is, it sounds like bad news."
"Very bad news. Whatever it was, she passed it along to Zac and his brother. If this gets out, they could be in serious trouble."
"We don't even know why yet, Arrow."
"No, but that's why we need to meet this mysterious informant."
"Arrow," Tristan exclaimed. "You're not serious? You said yourself, it stinks of witchcraft and that guy knew who you were. This is a trap."
"There hasn't been a trap yet that I haven't been able to get out of," she said, offended.
"There's always a first."
"I'm doing this, Tristan. You can come along if you wish, but I am more than capable to do it on my own."
Tristan groaned as his head fell into his hands. "You're trouble, you know that Arrow?"
She smiled slyly at the knight. "Big trouble."
"Yeah, well, I hope we get out of it alive."
Aya had no doubt that she would get what she wanted from this informant. She tried not to think about who was lying in wait for them. It could be any number of humans, witches or vampires. That one she would leave as a surprise, but her money was on witches. Lots of them.
And she tried not to think about her suspicions about who Victoria had really been. That she had something to do with the Celestines. The inscription on her grave had been glaringly obvious that was the case, but that couldn't be true. They'd died thousands of years ago and she'd been the last. Victoria had been born seventeen hundred years later. Any link between the witch and her kind was only in the gift. Blood had nothing to do with it.
The part that worried her most was , Deep below, sleeps a vicious sword, Beware ye who breaks the sleeping ward. Did it have something to do with what the Romans were looking for? She hoped not, because that was a warning that should be heeded. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to leave that message for her and she intended to find the reason.
They were no closer to finding out the truth than before. What the hell was Victoria? Whoever this informant was, she would get the truth out of them, even if she had to take it by force.
CHAPTER NINE
L ondon.
It was a different London than Zac remembered. The first time he'd left Sam and wandered the world on his own, he found himself here and enlisted in the British Army. What seemed like the entire world was at war over some guy getting shot, but he didn't care for the reasons why.
He found himself amongst the rain, mud and stench of blood on the Western Front late in 1914. Blood that stained the battlefields and the men about him. So much blood it drove him mad, but it didn't matter how many men he killed as long as they were the enemy. Turks, Germans, they all came under the one banner.
It was a different kind of war than he'd fought fifty years prior. He'd served in the Confederate trenches at Petersburg, but this was a new kind of horror. There were many more sadistic ways to kill a man. Bombs, machine guns , land mines. Air raids and dogfights were common place , submarines consistently sunk the massive machines that were the destroyers and battle ships of the Navy.
For Zac, it was much more effective to take a man down with his knife. Most times, they didn't even see him coming, he was too fast in the confusion of no mans land. When he couldn't take the reek of stale blood any longer, he compelled his way to the Dardanelles, but was too late to help the Allies at Gallipoli. Bodies littered the beaches in the thousands and the retreat had long sounded.
Eventually, he found Sam again, once the war was over, having learnt nothing new about himself . He was still the monster he always was and always would be. The dead had piled up around him and he didn't care. It took him almost sixty years before he began to think about it. That horror was called napalm. That was torture and suffering. At
"Somethin' that affected her blood? Whatever that is, it sounds like bad news."
"Very bad news. Whatever it was, she passed it along to Zac and his brother. If this gets out, they could be in serious trouble."
"We don't even know why yet, Arrow."
"No, but that's why we need to meet this mysterious informant."
"Arrow," Tristan exclaimed. "You're not serious? You said yourself, it stinks of witchcraft and that guy knew who you were. This is a trap."
"There hasn't been a trap yet that I haven't been able to get out of," she said, offended.
"There's always a first."
"I'm doing this, Tristan. You can come along if you wish, but I am more than capable to do it on my own."
Tristan groaned as his head fell into his hands. "You're trouble, you know that Arrow?"
She smiled slyly at the knight. "Big trouble."
"Yeah, well, I hope we get out of it alive."
Aya had no doubt that she would get what she wanted from this informant. She tried not to think about who was lying in wait for them. It could be any number of humans, witches or vampires. That one she would leave as a surprise, but her money was on witches. Lots of them.
And she tried not to think about her suspicions about who Victoria had really been. That she had something to do with the Celestines. The inscription on her grave had been glaringly obvious that was the case, but that couldn't be true. They'd died thousands of years ago and she'd been the last. Victoria had been born seventeen hundred years later. Any link between the witch and her kind was only in the gift. Blood had nothing to do with it.
The part that worried her most was , Deep below, sleeps a vicious sword, Beware ye who breaks the sleeping ward. Did it have something to do with what the Romans were looking for? She hoped not, because that was a warning that should be heeded. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to leave that message for her and she intended to find the reason.
They were no closer to finding out the truth than before. What the hell was Victoria? Whoever this informant was, she would get the truth out of them, even if she had to take it by force.
CHAPTER NINE
L ondon.
It was a different London than Zac remembered. The first time he'd left Sam and wandered the world on his own, he found himself here and enlisted in the British Army. What seemed like the entire world was at war over some guy getting shot, but he didn't care for the reasons why.
He found himself amongst the rain, mud and stench of blood on the Western Front late in 1914. Blood that stained the battlefields and the men about him. So much blood it drove him mad, but it didn't matter how many men he killed as long as they were the enemy. Turks, Germans, they all came under the one banner.
It was a different kind of war than he'd fought fifty years prior. He'd served in the Confederate trenches at Petersburg, but this was a new kind of horror. There were many more sadistic ways to kill a man. Bombs, machine guns , land mines. Air raids and dogfights were common place , submarines consistently sunk the massive machines that were the destroyers and battle ships of the Navy.
For Zac, it was much more effective to take a man down with his knife. Most times, they didn't even see him coming, he was too fast in the confusion of no mans land. When he couldn't take the reek of stale blood any longer, he compelled his way to the Dardanelles, but was too late to help the Allies at Gallipoli. Bodies littered the beaches in the thousands and the retreat had long sounded.
Eventually, he found Sam again, once the war was over, having learnt nothing new about himself . He was still the monster he always was and always would be. The dead had piled up around him and he didn't care. It took him almost sixty years before he began to think about it. That horror was called napalm. That was torture and suffering. At
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