Shadow Guardians: The Key

The atmosphere in the grand hall was lively and easy as the brothers entered through the main doors of Grandfall Manor.

In one corner, a group of male nosferi were gathered around a circular table, playing cards. Some groups were laughing and chatting of everyday affairs, others made more serious conversation, talking of power and politics.

Everyone seemed content and comfortable. Females drank wine and smoked with long shiny black cigarette holders, dressed in fashionable wear and gleaming jewelry. Males drank liquor and laughed heartily. Some were all over each other, kissing in public, the food and wine on the tables long forgotten.

Draven felt satisfied, seeing that most females regarded him with a sense of unease. Some turned their faces away from him as soon as he made eye contact, or started fidgeting with something on their tables. Others were brave enough to look at him with the expression of disgust, which might be because of the cassanova reputation, or just his mug.

He didn’t care. It spared him the embarrassment of being a sexual dud around them. But then, he also felt isolated, even in a house full of people. The buzz of battle had worn off, and he was left feeling pretty useless and empty without something to do, which was completely ridiculous.

He’d killed more bastards tonight than his brothers. He should be feeling a sense of accomplishment, but not being busy brought to the fore the sense of inadequacy. And he wanted to get the library biz out of the way, so he could settle in his pad with some brandy. Anything to take his mind off the utter uselessness of his body, and the fact that he was going to be alone for the rest of his miserable life.

They passed by the nosferi and went into the elevator. Draven was aware of his brothers glancing at him out of their peripheral vision every now and then. He ignored them. They didn’t need to know that he was no longer a worthy male.

When they entered the library, Z and Magnus went over to kiss their females, and at least Draven received a welcoming smile from Uriah, which made him feel needed. He doubted the young male knew how much he was helping him. It wasn’t exactly enough, though, but it kept him from doing something stupid.

Katherine was the first to speak. She crossed her arms defensively around herself. “I ah, I have some new information. It’s not good news,”

“Let’s hear it,” Z said, taking Amielle from Ophelia. The little babe squirmed happily in her father’s arms.

Draven’s heart wrenched at the sight of their affection. Goddamnit, he was so pitiful. He should be happy for his brothers, not mourning what he couldn’t have. He set his jaw and focused his gaze on the tall shadows against the walls that the candles created. Weak and disgusting he was.

Katherine breathed in deep, and Magnus placed his arm around her to comfort. “I had a nap earlier, and I was in the Abyss again. I opened six cages, and I saw what was in them this time. I couldn’t believe it and, at first, I panicked because...” she pressed her lips together and kept her eyes on a spot on the floor as she recalled the scene, “Because...I thought it was you,” she looked to Magnus. He frowned in confusion. “It was a beast,” she clarified.

The silent panic in the air became palpable.

“Actually, two of them were beasts, the others were angels I think.”

Zachiel groaned and ran a hand over his face. “Shit.”

“Right, who else wants to get stone drunk tonight?” Magnus asked flippantly.

“So it’s an infernal that’s behind all this shit,” Draven said, “Which means there’ll be precious little on him in those Chronicles.”

“Our best bet is to find the rest of that relic to identify him,” Z suggested “Hate to say this but I’m wishing more churches get hit.” Then he cast his eyes to Uriah. “And we have to talk about what happened with you.”

Uriah was sitting behind the desk, toying with the zipper of his parka. His body felt heavy with a dragging fatigue, the bones continually aching in a dull throb. He so wished this transition thing was over already. “I’ve never made a prediction like that before. And I didn’t see anything except the street name and a time. I had to really concentrate on it though. It was unclear at first.”

“He’s been able to predict the course of my classes,” Draven added, standing cross-armed against his desk. “That kind of thing can come in handy. Give us more bastards to whip.”

“Perhaps you can try to concentrate on the churches. Maybe we can stop the takeover if we get there in time, actually save some of the people instead of having to kill them all after their souls had been taken,” Magnus suggested. “Visions of the future is a valuable weapon in our kind of business. You should try to hone it.”

“When he’s gone through the change the ability will probably mature and strengthen with him,” Zachiel said. He tickled Amielle’s belly and earned baby girl giggles, which brought an affectionate smile to the vampire’s face. Ophie leaned on his shoulder with her one hand under her chin, a content expression on her face. She loved that Amielle was so close to her father. She was the same when she was a youngling.

“If I ever go through it,” Uriah murmured softly, staring at his zipper. For some reason a bout of paranoia struck him. What if he was in pain like this for years, or what if there was something wrong with him after all and they were all wrong?

“You will,” Draven said. “It’s just biology, can’t be stopped.”

By the time everyone was in their respective living pads, the shutters lowered as dawn approached. And Draven was parked in his armchair, with a bottle of brandy keeping him company, his eyes far-away and his thoughts spiraling down into the gutter. An hour or so in, and six bottles later, he was totally plastered.

And still he couldn’t be numb enough to ward off the feeling of isolation. Hell, maybe he should just take off. He was such a drag, and this was totally not the kind of energy his brothers needed now with a damn infernal in the mix. Except, Uriah needed him. Or so he thought, anyway. He had two other brothers to choose from.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

“No.” Draven demanded with slurred diction. “Go away.” Fuck, that sounded pathetic.

The locks on his door opened by themselves, and Draven’s mind was too sluggish to counter whoever it was, which pissed him off, since whoever it was was now officially invading his private space.

Magnus opened the door, and Draven tried to sit very still, tried to appear very sober. Except the empty bottles on the end table weren’t helping the situation...

Magnus frowned and came in, closing the door behind him. He walked over and sat himself down on the bed, staring Draven in the face. He didn’t say a thing.

The silence stretched out, and Draven took a few more gulps of the brandy, right out of the bottle. Magnus simply kept looking at him. And he could feel his eldest brother poking around in his emotions, pulling strings he didn’t want pulled. Sometimes, the deep connection they had was a pain in the ass.

Draven felt his walls crumbling against his will, and he fought not to cry in front of him. Feeling where he was, Magnus stood and turned around, walked over to the wall to admire the artwork.

Draven let his tears fall, feeling grateful that his brother allowed him to keep his pride and dignity by turning away. His chest ached with the weight of misery. He tried to keep his voice level, although he slurred, when he spoke.

“The cassanova is fucking dead, man. He can’t get it up anymore, not with anyone. For three centuries I’ve been with every female under the sun, and I’ve never bonded with anyone. Now seems like my biology is rejecting them altogether. I feel nothing when I’m with them."

"You know what, I’m fucking jealous of you guys. And I know I’m a dick because of that, because I’m supposed to be happy for you and all that but... Guess I’m destined to be nothing more than a whipping boy for the scourge of hell. There ain’t no rest for the wicked, which is apparently me.”

Magnus gave a long sigh. He wasn’t really admiring the old still life painting on the wall, or the decorative golden frame surrounding it. But he fixed his eyes on it anyway, so his brother would feel safe talking to him. Gods, so this was why he was so frustrated and angry. Now he felt like shit that he and Zachiel always used to think that Draven liked hanging with the females. All these years he’d been sick with loneliness.

“Why didn’t you tell us before? We would’ve stopped calling you names and making everything worse...” he asked.

Draven chuckled softly behind him. “Guess I’m a fucking masochist. Jesus, I’m so weak.”

“Why don’t you see Thomas about it?”

“Because I’m tired of this shit, Magnus. I’m sick of hopping from female to female, and I guess in some sick sense this is a damn blessing. The reality is I just don’t seem to have the ability to bond with anyone. I’m sorry I hammered you when you were bonding with Katherine. That was just the jealous ass in me wishing it was me.”

Magnus swallowed a lump. In the arms of his meeran, his soul found solace and rest from the never-ending chaos and carnage of war. Katherine gave him the strength and the will to continue fighting.

She was and would be the light he needed to counter the continued onslaught of darkness that chipped away at the soul as the days, weeks, and years wound on, especially now that she often fought by his side. And he knew it was the same for Z.

But Draven didn’t have that rest, never had. Damnit, they were so blind to what was happening. And he didn’t have a clue how to help him.

“I don’t know what to tell you, D.” Magnus said at last. “But, I think I have an idea of what you’re feeling. I was restless after I lost Ramona, and I never thought I’d bond with another female after her,”

What was worse? Having someone and losing them, thinking you’ll never hold another again? Or never having held someone in that deep profound way at all?

“I don’t know how to help you, but I want you to know that you have my support, as always. I don’t want you sitting here, drinking yourself to oblivion, no matter how lonely you feel. Though, I suppose I can’t stop you because you’ll jam your bloody fingers in my eyes. I just want you to know I’m here. And I don’t think you’re any less of a man because of what’s going. You’re a fierce warrior, and we need you like we need blood to survive.”

Magnus huffed out breath. He could smell that Draven had at least stopped crying behind him, so he turned around to look at him now. He was leaning his chin in his hand, staring at the floor. “I guess if you wanna get drunk over it, at least let me make sure your sorry ass is alright and safe. Because I don’t want you doing stupid shit. You’re my little bro.”

Draven snorted. Yeah, he was such an idiot for not trusting Magnus enough to tell him what was doing.

“You want me to put you to bed and tuck you in?”

Draven had a flashback, a memory of when he was a youngling, beat to shit by another group who they were staying with temporarily to learn new fighting techniques. Magnus had laid next to him on the simple wooden platform on the floor that was the bed.

There was no mattress on the thing, just a bunch of fur blankets, and the huts they stayed in were primitive at best. The hardness of it hurt his thin body, but he took a ton of comfort in his elder brother laying against his back, holding him from behind, shielding him from the worst of the brutes.

He was not that kid anymore.

“Hell no. Get the fuck outta here. Go to your woman.” Draven drawled.

Magnus sniggered. “Night.”

“Yeah. Sweet dreams, freak-o.”

Magnus smirked as he closed the door. After sitting in the chair for a while longer, Draven dragged himself to bed. At least the alcohol helped him drift into a nice deep sleep.