Blood and Memory

  Arius stood in the grand hallway, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer extravagance around him. Fresh from a shower, droplets still clinging to his skin, he took in the impossible space. This world was beyond anything he had known—too bright, too intricate, too alive. Even the air felt charged with an unfamiliar energy that left him both exhilarated and unsteady.

  As he moved through the opulent corridors, lined with modern art and sleek décor, he felt the weight of countless eyes on him. Whispers drifted through the air—curiosity, awe, and a thread of fear. To these people, he was a legend made flesh, a figure pulled from ancient stories no one expected to see walking the halls of the most secure facility on the planet. Given what his kind had once done, he couldn’t blame them for their unease. Many here had likely lost someone to creatures like him.

  Adam noticed the flicker of uncertainty in Arius’s expression. With a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he said, “Come with me. We’ll grab something to drink, and I can start filling you in on what you’ve missed over the last four centuries.” His voice was warm, grounding.

  Arius met his gaze, the kindness there easing some of the tension coiled inside him. “I’d like that,” he said quietly.

  Adam guided him through the murmuring crowd and into a small spare room. The door closed with a soft click, sealing them in a calmer, more intimate space. A simple table, a few chairs, and an impressive coffee machine dominated the room.

  “Coffee?” Adam offered.

  Arius hesitated, puzzled, then nodded as Adam slid a small pod into the machine and pressed a button—another small marvel in a world full of them.

  The machine whirred to life, its chorus of clicks and hisses drawing Arius in. Steam curled upward, carrying a rich, unfamiliar aroma that was both foreign and strangely inviting. When the brewing finished, Adam handed him a steaming mug. Arius sniffed it and frowned. “Doesn’t smell like coffee,” he said, skepticism edging his voice.

  Adam chuckled warmly. “The coffee you knew would’ve been very different.”

  Arius took a cautious sip. The bold flavor spread heat through his chest, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Adam settled into a chair, watching him with quiet admiration.

  “So,” Adam said, leaning forward, “what do you want to know?”

  Arius took another sip, letting the moment steady him. There were countless questions he could ask about this strange new world, but only one rose to the surface—one that had lingered in him since the moment he woke. He hesitated, hoping it wouldn’t fracture the fragile peace between them.

  “What happened? Why did it take so long to find me?”

  Adam’s expression shifted. He closed his eyes, lowering his head as though bracing himself. The weight of the past settled heavily between them. He owed Arius the truth—every piece of it—and he needed to choose his words carefully.

  “A few things,” Adam began, voice steady but tinged with regret. “First, we didn’t even know you’d disappeared for nearly three years. When a ship with your reputation goes missing, people notice—but we were dealing with a crisis on the other side of the world. News reached us late.”

  Arius listened silently, warmth from the mug grounding him.

  “When rumors spread that the Ancients’ Retreat had vanished, we mobilized immediately. It took six months to find Freya. She told us everything.” Arius’s eyes brightened at her name, and Adam smiled faintly.

  “We used every resource we had, but nothing led us to you. After a couple of years, Thalia came to us—she’d heard the rumors too.”

  “Has she been told I’m back?” Arius asked, hope threading through his voice.

  Adam shook his head, expression dimming. “We haven’t heard from her in a decade. After we failed to find you, she went off on her own, swearing she’d track you down herself. I’m pretty sure she swam the entire Mediterranean more than once looking for you. But eventually she dropped off our radar completely. We wouldn’t even know where to start. Still, with how fast the rumors of your return are spreading, she’ll find you soon enough.”

  Arius couldn’t help but smile. Despite their clashes over duty and responsibility, his bond with Thalia had always been unbreakable—chaotic, loyal, and unmistakably sibling.

  “We tried everything to find you,” Adam continued, his voice growing heavier. “After a couple of centuries, we honestly thought you were gone. That the Angels had finally managed the one thing they’d been trying to do for so long. I’m glad they failed.”

  “Me too,” Arius said with a mischievous grin. “I’m too pretty to die.”

  Their laughter filled the room, lifting the weight between them. When it faded, Adam looked at him with raw sincerity.

  “I really am glad you’re back. Not just because of this deal with Dalareyes.”

  “I know, Dad. I’m glad to be back too.”

  A sharp knock shattered the moment. Both men jolted.

  “Come in!” Adam called.

  Lucas stepped inside, face blank and tense.

  “What’s happened?” Adam asked.

  “We just lost contact with Vayne’s plane over the Irish Sea,” Lucas said grimly.

  Adam shot to his feet, Arius right behind him. Their supernatural speed blurred them from the room and into the command center, where an operator frantically tried to reestablish contact.

  “Get a chopper ready, now!” Adam barked. The room erupted into motion.

  Arius stared at the blank monitor, dread coiling in his gut. He swallowed hard.

  “Was Freya on the plane too?” he asked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The operator checked a few screens, then nodded solemnly. Arius felt anger and fear surge through him, his eyes flashing red as tension carved hard lines across his jaw. There were only three people left in the world he truly cared for—and Freya was one of them. Adam saw the shift immediately. He needed answers before Arius’s emotions spiraled.

  “Where were they when we lost the signal?” Adam asked, urgency tightening every word.

  “Just off the coast of Wales. We’re getting reports from around Aberystwyth of a plane going down offshore,” the operator replied.

  The weight of the situation settled like a stone in the room. Arius’s heart hammered, dread clawing at him. Freya’s life hung in the balance.

  “Alright. We’re heading there as soon as the chopper is ready. Get local authorities to cordon off the beaches and direct us to the landing zone,” Adam ordered. The operator immediately reached for the phone.

  Adam turned to Arius, determination replacing concern. “You’re coming with me.”

  Arius took a steadying breath, forcing his emotions into something usable. He met Adam’s gaze and nodded. “When do we leave?”

  “The chopper is ready!” someone shouted across the room.

  Adam didn’t hesitate. “We leave now.”

  They moved quickly through the underground levels, Arius ignoring everything except the path Adam carved ahead. When they stepped outside, Arius froze for a heartbeat. A sleek helicopter waited for them, its rotors whipping the air into a frenzy. It was nothing like the aircraft that had brought him from Italy—smaller, sharper, more aggressive.

  He pushed his questions aside and climbed aboard. The machine roared to life, lifting them into the sky. For the next hour, tension sat thick between them. Every ten minutes Adam demanded updates. Reports confirmed debris washing ashore near Aberystwyth North Beach—but no bodies.

  When they finally landed on a cordoned patch of grass, hundreds of onlookers watched from behind barriers. Adam and Arius sprinted toward the beach, where Ffion, head of the Welsh branch, stood at the water’s edge, her weathered face grim in the fading light.

  “Evening, sir,” she greeted Adam.

  “Give me a report,” he said, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

  “Roughly a third of the plane has been recovered so far. Four bodies washed up just as you touched down—crew members. No sign of Vayne or the Vampyre,” Ffion reported, disappointment sharpening her tone at the last word.

  “Freya. Her name is Freya,” Arius said firmly, disdain threading through his voice.

  Ffion turned, brow furrowing as she registered him. “I don’t care what its name was.” But when Arius’s eyes flashed red, she faltered. Surprise flickered across her face, quickly replaced by contempt. “Associating with Vampyres now, Adam? I thought better of you.”

  “Watch it, Ffion,” Adam warned. “Push too far and he will kill you for it. And I won’t be able to stop him—not with him this angry.”

  Her gaze darted between them. Fifty years with the Guardians had taught her what true power looked like, and Adam’s admission shifted something in her. The rumours from the English branch—that Arius, the missing Ancient, had been found—were no longer rumours.

  “No sign of Freya either, sir,” she said quietly, almost apologetic.

  A shout erupted down the beach. People surged toward the shoreline. Adam and Arius blurred into motion, reaching the scene in seconds. An operative pointed frantically out to sea.

  With their enhanced sight, they spotted two figures bobbing in the waves—one unconscious, the other barely keeping them afloat.

  “Alejandra! Freya!” Adam shouted. He tore off his top and dove into the freezing water. Ffion arrived moments later, barking orders for blankets and medics.

  Arius hesitated only a heartbeat before plunging in after his father. The cold bit into him, but adrenaline drove him forward. Together, they reached the two women and kept Alejandra’s limp form above water as they swam back.

  On the sand, Freya collapsed, exhausted. Adam laid Alejandra flat and began CPR, his panic sharpening into fierce focus. Her injuries rattled him, but he pushed the fear aside and worked. Medics swarmed in. After agonizing minutes, Alejandra gasped and coughed, dragging in air. Relief rippled through the crowd.

  Freya staggered upright. Her gaze found Arius—and held. The chaos around them blurred as they walked toward each other, step by step, neither willing to look away.

  When they finally closed the distance between them, Arius opened his mouth to speak—but Freya’s hand struck him across the jaw before he could utter a word. The crack echoed down the beach, drawing startled looks from those nearby. Arius touched the stinging side of his face, stunned.

  Freya’s eyes were wet, from tears or seawater he couldn’t tell. “You left me, you son of a bitch,” she choked out, voice trembling with fury and heartbreak. “I thought you were dead. How dare you do that to me?”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose,” he said quickly, desperate to explain.

  “No excuses! You left me.” Tears streamed freely now, raw anguish burning in her gaze.

  Arius held her stare, the reality of her presence sinking in. She was alive. He was alive. And the pain between them was real. Ignoring the crowd’s awkward silence, he reached out and gently took her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace.

  “I’m here now. You’re safe,” he murmured as her sobs shook through him. After a moment, she clung to him in return, her tears soaking into his shirt. When she finally steadied, he guided her away from the cluster of medics surrounding Vayne. This moment belonged to them alone.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” Freya whispered, breath hitching. “I tried to find you. I tried everything…”

  “I know. And I’m so sorry,” Arius said softly, his heart twisting. He brushed a strand of wet hair from her face and offered a small smile.

  “You could’ve at least made an effort, I haven’t seen you in centuries and you look like a drowned rat.”

  She punched his arm lightly—but the humour faded as fear crept back into her expression.

  “It was the Archangels—Gabriel and Azrael. They’re the ones who hit us.”

  Arius’s eyes flared red. “Them again. They keep giving me reasons to kick the crap out of them.”

  Freya opened her mouth to respond, then froze. “Oh hell… you have no idea what’s going on, do you?”

  “I’m a bit behind on the times, yes,” Arius admitted.

  “Then let’s fix that.” Her voice softened as she tilted her head, offering her neck. Arius hesitated, emotions warring inside him, but her steady gaze made the choice clear. He nodded and bit down.

  Warm, metallic life flooded his mouth. Memories surged—images, voices, sensations—crashing into him in a torrent. After only seconds he released her, blood dripping from his lips as her skin healed almost instantly.

  He blinked hard, pressing his fingers to his temples as the flood settled. “That’s… a lot to take in,” he breathed, awe colouring his voice. “Thank you.”

  Freya wiped the blood from her collar. Arius brushed his mouth clean, and she watched him with a mix of admiration and worry.

  They shared a small, relieved smile before stepping into another embrace, then turned together to rejoin the others.

  As Arius and Freya approached, the scene before them was far grimmer than either expected. Vayne was upright, but only barely. Her body swayed, her once?tanned skin now ghost?pale under the moonlight. A dark crimson stain spread across her torn shirt, fresh blood dripping steadily onto the sand. One arm hung at an unnatural angle, and the deep lacerations across her torso made Freya wince. Surviving the fall was a miracle—enduring the pain was something else entirely.

  Freya’s heart clenched, though she masked it with a crooked smirk.

  “I guess a thank you is in order, Freya. You saved my life,” Vayne rasped, her voice raw with pain.

  “No problem. I’m always here to help a damsel in distress,” Freya replied with a wink—though her eyes held no teasing this time. Vayne tried to glare but winced instead, the motion tugging at her wounds.

  Adam stepped forward, concern etched across his face. “Regardless, thank you. We’ve been piecing together what happened.” His gaze swept over Vayne’s injuries. “You said you were attacked by Gabriel and Azrael?”

  Vayne drew a shaky breath, her shoulders trembling just from standing. “I—I don’t know their names. One had red wings, the other blue. Definitely Archangels.” Each word cost her.

  Adam rubbed his chin, mind racing. “I don’t understand. The last sighting of any Archangel was the night Arius disappeared.” He glanced at Arius, who stood silent, absorbing every detail.

  Before Arius could respond, an operative sprinted toward them, clutching a bright orange box. “Sir, we found the black box,” he panted.

  Adam took it with a curt nod. “We’ll analyze it. It should give us answers.” He handed it to Ffion, who hesitated before heading toward the chopper, clearly uneasy about leaving the group.

  Vayne shifted her weight—and nearly collapsed. Freya caught her instantly.

  “Whoa, easy there, tough girl,” she murmured, her bravado softening.

  Vayne tried to pull away, pride flaring, but her body refused to obey. “I’m fine,” she muttered, though her legs trembled violently. “We have more important things to discuss. I’ll be healed in a couple of days.”

  “You’re bleeding out,” Freya snapped, anger sharpened by fear. “If we leave it like this, you won’t make it a couple of days.”

  Adam gestured to a medic, who rushed forward. “Alejandra, let them patch you up. We need you alive and functional, not barely standing.”

  Vayne hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. As the medic knelt beside her, assessing the worst of the damage, Adam turned back to the others. “Something big is happening—something we don’t understand yet.” His jaw tightened. “We need to get ahead of it before we’re blindsided.”

  Freya crossed her arms. “Something big has been happening. Have you not heard about the Werewolf packs getting wiped out?”

  Adam frowned. “What?”

  Freya let out a sharp breath. “Of course not. It’s not under your jurisdiction. Over the last six months, at least seven packs have been completely taken out by Angels. Every member dead. And the pack leaders? Missing.”

  Adam’s expression darkened. “Missing? Why take Werewolves instead of killing them?”

  “No idea,” Freya said. “But the only ones disappearing are the pack leaders—and they’re all second?generation. Turned directly by an Ancient.”

  Adam’s gaze flicked to Arius, who remained silent, eyes fixed on the sand as though piecing together a puzzle only he could see.

  After a long moment, Adam spoke again, voice low. “What have Leander and Selene done about it?”

  Freya snorted. “No idea. I’m not looped into Ancient Werewolf politics. But whatever they’re doing, it’s not enough.”

  Adam clenched his fists. “If this is part of a larger plan, we need to figure it out before it’s too late.”

  A sound cut through the night—soft at first, like wind brushing leaves. Then heavier. Rhythmic. Wingbeats.

  Adam’s head snapped upward. Arius mirrored him instantly. Freya tensed, dropping into a defensive stance. Vayne, pale and shaking, managed to lift her gaze.

  “North,” Arius murmured.

  Freya’s heart hammered as she scanned the sky. The stars remained still—until a faint shadow slipped through the clouds.

  Adam’s voice dropped to a whisper. “We’re being watched.”

  A cold shiver crawled down Freya’s spine. The Archangels had attacked them… and now they lingered, observing.

  Waiting.

  For what?

  Arius’s voice cut through the tension, edged with something lethal. “We need to move. Now.”

  Adam didn’t hesitate. “Get Alejandra stabilized and on the chopper. We’ll figure out our next step in the air.”

  Freya hesitated, eyes flicking back to the sky. The presence was still there—hidden, patient, undeniable.

  Whatever was coming, they were running out of time.