A Shade of Vampire 32: A Day of Glory (16 page)

A
fter witnessing
my father captured in our midst, and arriving at an idea for what to do with him, I requested Ibrahim to heal my aching shoulders and the gash in my cheek, which he did without much delay.

Then I looked around at our group.

“Does anybody know if the news sites and channels are up and running again?” They ought to be by now, but I needed to verify it.

“They are,” Ben confirmed.

“Then I suggest that we go and pay a visit to those news helicopters.”

I couldn’t help but look at my father as I spoke. His jaw was tight, his teeth clenched, his cheek muscles twitching.

Kailyn and Ben continued to grip him as they began flying toward the helicopters, while I returned to Jez. Sofia and Derek flew with their dragon. Given the presence of the dragon and the mutant, the news reporters were unsurprisingly jittery to see us come hurtling toward them.

The helicopters began to move away, and Derek had to ask the dragon to use his mighty voice to bellow out, “We are here only to talk!”

That made them stall and hover where they were, waiting for us to approach. Jez and I reached the nearest helicopter first, and I leapt into the belly of the aircraft, leaving the mutant to hover outside. Derek and Sofia joined me, followed by Kailyn, Ben and my father.

The helicopter was filled with at least ten reporters, and I could recognize from their badges and dress that most of them represented the major channels.

As famous—or should I now say, infamous—as the IBSI was, my father himself was practically invisible to the public eye. He almost never showed his face, and most people had no idea who actually ran it.

They did, however, recognize me, given my numerous appearances on the screen as the IBSI’s “golden child” and test-experiment-gone-wrong. Their brows rose as they laid eyes on me.

“This is my father, Mr. Atticus Conway,” I said, gesturing toward him. “Founder and chief of the IBSI, if you weren’t aware. I would like you to set up your cameras now. My father has some confessions to make.”

The reporters set up the cameras and pointed them at my father and me. Then they began to record. My father’s face had flushed red as he kept his head down, still refusing to look at me.

I looked directly at the cameras and gave an introduction to myself before moving on to introduce my father. “This is the man who is responsible for every activity the IBSI has carried out since its founding. He is the IBSI’s founder and director. Until now, he has lurked in the shadows of the organization’s halls, but now, I would like to introduce him to the world.”

I paused to address my father. “Do you have anything to say at all?”

He remained silent. That was about the only act of protest he could pull off in this moment.

“Well, it seems that Mr. Conway is speechless,” I went on. “Allow me to introduce him further. He is the murderer of his wife, my mother, Mrs. Georgina Conway, who died thirteen years ago in a covert assassination. Since then, he has assassinated many other innocent members of his organization. What was their crime? They wished to spread the knowledge about the Bloodless antidote far and wide to the public.” I had already explained several hours earlier when we were visiting news stations about the cure and how it had been concealed in order to provide an excuse for the IBSI to remain in power. Of course, we had demonstrated the antidote too. But I recapped it now in brief for any who had not watched the previous broadcasts or seen the viral footage on the internet.

I turned once again to my father. “Do you deny any of this?”

I expected him to maintain his silence, so I was surprised when he responded in a deep, coarse voice. “You speak the truth about many things, but not about my intent.” His blue eyes pierced through mine. “You should have gleaned by now, Lawrence, that power has never been my or the IBSI’s motivation. Power has always been a means to an end. An end which is for the benefit of all mankind. Given the state that the world is in, and has been in for the past several decades, drastic measures have been required in order to keep human society from descending into irrelevance.” He went on to clarify why they had kept the antidote such a closely guarded secret; they needed it to retain control, and they needed control in order to change the world for the better, develop a new breed of humans who would be powerful enough to withstand supernaturals. “We’ve had to think about safeguarding our future,” he concluded, “and for that, sacrifices needed to be made.”

Derek cleared his throat. “That’s all well and good,” he said, glaring daggers at my father. He looked toward the cameras to address the public. “But you will witness in the days, weeks, months and years to come that Mr. Atticus Conway’s methods, however
noble
”—here, Derek’s voice dripped with sarcasm—“are not required. There are ways of dealing with Earth’s situation other than keeping hundreds of thousands of people living a life of sheer misery. Not to speak of murdering innocent people.”

If my father’s hands had not been bound, I was sure that he would’ve punched Derek. But now that he had practically confessed to these matters on television, my father’s hands would be cuffed for a long time to come.

“I cannot say that I am sorry for anything.” My father spoke to the camera. “And if you trust a word that comes out of Derek Novak’s mouth, you’re fools. TSL will bring this country, and the international community, to ruin. Their efforts will not sustain the way the IBSI has for decades. You’ll see, all of you. Every single one of you will suffer if the IBSI is overthrown.”

“Not
if
, Father,” I said, raising a brow at his choice of words. “When.” In fact, it had already happened. Just not officially yet.

I told the reporters they could stop filming—I figured that they’d captured enough of our banter, and since my father obviously wasn’t going to apologize for anything, I didn’t see the point of going on.

As I turned to speak to Derek, my phone rang in my pocket. Thanks to my pockets having zippers, it had survived the fall from the building. I took the call and pressed it to my ear.

“Lawrence.” It was Fowler. “Hand the phone to your father, please.”

I held the phone to my father’s ear, my pulse quickening.

Even though it wasn’t on loudspeaker, I could make out Fowler’s voice on the other end of the line.

“You are going to have to step down,” Fowler said. “Henceforth, the IBSI is disbanded.”

My father’s lips cracked open, but in that moment he looked too furious even to talk. Heck, he looked like he wanted to throw himself out of the helicopter. I actually would not be surprised if he resorted to suicide after this. His whole life had been dedicated to the cause of the IBSI, however twisted it was. He’d sacrificed his wife, his son… Everything that should’ve been dear to him, he had placed on the line for his organization. I wasn’t sure what else he had left to live for after this.

That appeared to be all Fowler wanted to say. I removed the phone from my father's ear.

“Make sure your helicopter stays where it is,” Fowler said. “Police officers are heading your way now as we speak… No doubt, we will talk again soon.” With that, he hung up.

I was surprised that he had not asked to speak to Derek about TSL’s taking over now that the IBSI was disbanded. I wondered if it was his ego delaying the conversation, the fact that he would need to eat humble pie. From what I understood, the last words Fowler had exchanged with Derek had been Fowler “firing” him. Plus, it was clear that TSL was already inclined to take up the role of the IBSI—it was hardly like we were waiting for their permission. So maybe he thought he could afford to drag it out longer.

The police aircraft arrived swiftly. It closed the distance between itself and our helicopter before men laid down a ramp to connect their aircraft to ours.

As two burly policemen crossed the ramp, Ben and Kailyn relinquished their hold on my father and pushed him toward the men, who grabbed him by the arms.

My father twisted around one last time to look at me. I wasn’t sure what I saw behind those cold blue eyes of his. It was hard to tell whether there was even a flicker of remorse—genuine remorse—behind them. He mostly seemed deeply dismayed.

I couldn’t bring myself to care what he thought anymore. He would be placed behind bars and then the nation’s judicial system would decide what fate lay in store for him. Perhaps he would be given the death sentence.

Whatever happened, as my father reached the police helicopter and the ramp drew away, the chapter of my life that he’d been a part of was closed.

A
fter Atticus was taken away
, we left the press aircraft and headed to the ground. We finished sweeping through the city along with the rest of our army, until I felt comfortable that we’d searched as thoroughly as we could to find any surviving humans. All those we’d found were transported by witches back to The Shade’s hospital.

Next, I set my eyes on the IBSI’s Chicago HQ in the distance. Although TSL still had not received an official transference of authority, Fowler had basically said as much. I was still waiting for his call—I knew it would come. He would have no choice but to speak to me, sooner or later.

For now, I headed with Ben, Sofia, Lawrence, Aiden, Ibrahim and twenty other witches to the IBSI’s compound. The army the IBSI had sent out to fight us had been so big, I doubted there would be many people left in the buildings, or at least none of the dangerous ones.

But even if there were fighters hanging on in there, they must’ve known what had been going on out here. They would’ve been monitoring the news, they would’ve seen the destruction. I didn’t expect much trouble storming the hallways.

The IBSI members we found in the buildings were helpful in navigating the place. We stormed inside, passing through room after room informing whatever men and women we came across that the IBSI was shutting down. Nobody had made any promises to me that TSL would inherit the IBSI’s buildings, but I didn’t care. I was going to claim them.

We informed those left of their choice—leave here forever and find another job, or join forces with TSL. Most we came across opted for the latter, again demonstrating Jennifer Thornton’s suspicion regarding many of the IBSI members to be correct. Most were loyal to power, whoever held it. And to whatever entity would keep themselves and their families safe.

Once we had scoured the base, essentially marking it as ours, we returned to the entrance of the compound.

I left Aiden in charge along with Ibrahim and ten other witches. I needed Aiden and Ibrahim to start making the facilities suitable for TSL’s purposes, and induct our newly joined recruits into TSL’s way of thinking and behaving. That might take a while for them to get used to, given the years of brainwashing they must’ve received in the form of training under Atticus’s organization.

As for the rest of us, we headed back to the city. I climbed atop Neros, who barked out orders on my behalf for our entire army to gather, something that took a while. Many of the werewolves and ogres had wandered far off in their search for stray humans (or Bloodless). But eventually, everyone had gathered.

I started by congratulating them on completing our first milestone successfully. Then I explained the second stage of our plan.

Our next stop had to be New York and Los Angeles. We could not travel there one at a time; we had to hit the two at once because we couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

I split the army roughly in half, except for the dragons. Those I would send to New York, given their reluctance to travel by magic.

Lawrence and Ben headed one group, bound for New York, while Sofia and I headed the other, bound for Los Angeles.

The dragons shouldn’t be required anyway, except as a convenient means of flying. I didn’t see the remaining stragglers of the IBSI as a threat anymore. Currently our main priority was to deal with the Bloodless streaming through residential areas, work on curing them with the large batches of antidote Dr. Finnegan had managed to create, and save the humans who had not yet been touched.

I was thankful that the IBSI had not pulled down more walls, though I reminded myself that there were still many IBSI leaders running rampant. They would be seething mad. I expected out of spite they would pull down more walls before our job was done, and if they did, so be it.

We just had to be as fast as we possibly could. We had to work for as many days or weeks as it took to infiltrate every single IBSI base in America and take it over. Fix what was broken, convert the hunters to TSL’s side, and install leaders there who could begin training the men and women, and managing the operations.

And so began our journey.

When we arrived in Los Angeles, the city was in hardly any better state than Chicago. The Bloodless were running amok. It took us a full day to regain some semblance of order, all the while keeping in regular contact with Ben and Lawrence to check their progress in New York. By the sounds of it, New York had been an even worse mess. But once both cities had been re-organized, management put into place, and a deadline set for when they would aim to cure the last of the Bloodless that had been roaming the city, we moved on to other areas. And in doing so, we had to split our army up further for the sake of speed. It was a good thing I had gathered up such a large one. We needed as much manpower as we could possibly get. And equally as fortunate was the fact that Dr. Finnegan, with the help of a team of witches, had managed to mass-produce the antidote.

At least, the more cities we visited, the more IBSI members we gathered to help us. They proved to be invaluable since they knew the facilities inside out. We also trained them in administering the cure, which sped up the process further.

All the while, we were followed by the press. We encouraged them to film and snap pictures as much as they wanted. Let the world witness how we were curing the Bloodless, rather than slaughtering them… or deliberately creating more of them. There would be no secrets behind TSL’s doors.

By the time I’d finished touring the states, spending as much time as I thought necessary in each area, overseeing and providing guidance to the managers we had appointed, almost a month had passed. Almost a month of practically no sleep, and very little nutrition. I wouldn’t have been able to do it if I was a human. Even as a vampire, it was starting to take its toll. Sofia had remained traveling with me, and she was just as exhausted as I was. I had hardly seen my son, daughter, or the rest of our family and friends, because we were mostly scattered in different parts of the nation, each with our own responsibilities to fulfill.

Over the weeks, I did speak to several government officials (though still not Fowler). They informed the former employees of the IBSI that TSL was officially replacing them, and if they wanted to keep their jobs, they’d need to join us.

Finally, I felt that we had made enough headway to allow ourselves to withdraw at least for a few days—head back to The Shade to recuperate before returning and resuming our management duties.

As for Atticus, he’d come down to Earth with a crash. No longer an “untouchable”, according to the news we heard during our travels, he’d been sentenced to a lifetime in jail. He should have been sentenced to death, but the authorities took into account the “service” he had performed over the years for the states and decided it was only right not to execute him. As twisted as he might have been, he had maintained some semblance of order in the country for the past couple of decades.

Something told me, however, that Atticus would have preferred the death sentence. I wasn’t sure what his purpose was for living anymore. He should probably avoid reading the papers or watching the news; it would drive him insane watching the “troublemakers” take over his empire. I would have liked to have watched him go through a more… physically painful punishment. But ultimately, I didn’t care as long as I never had to see him again, and he never got another opportunity to cause trouble.

Sofia and I made one last round of the largest IBSI bases, where we gathered up our family and core TSL group. It was a relief to see everyone together again. I wasn’t used to spending so much time apart.

Every bone and muscle in my body ached. I wanted nothing more than for Sofia and me to lock ourselves in our penthouse, collapse into bed and sleep.

Some dragons said that they would also return to our island for a break, and as for the rest of the supernaturals, provisions were made for them around the cities themselves, set aside from the humans. We had been sure to station ample witches in each place to keep an eye on the ogres—and assist with the general proceedings. However, I had to admit that the ogres were doing a commendable job. We truly were proving Atticus wrong in every single respect of his declaration that supernaturals were incapable of taking responsibility and becoming guardians to Earth. His convoluted idea that the IBSI was the only way to bring about peace again in the world.

So far, our focus had been primarily on the Bloodless; we hadn’t even started to hunt down the other kinds of troublemaking supernaturals. That would be our next step. On paper, the supernaturals we’d brought down had no responsibility for the Bloodless; the Bloodless weren’t members of the supernaturals’ own species. Yet they were working to help us get a handle on them. I was sure when the time came they would do a diligent job of keeping their own kind in check, too.

We made Chicago our final port of call, where we prepared to finally leave for The Shade. But as we gathered together outside the former IBSI, now TSL HQ, a crowd of press reporters approached. Their eyes were trained on me specifically as I faced them.

“Sir, would you mind answering a few questions?” a thin woman with a short bob of blonde hair asked, clutching a mic in her hands. Miss Porter, according to her badge.

I let out a sigh. “Go ahead.”

“Do you have a timeline for the Bloodless treatment?” she asked, moving the microphone beneath my chin. I clasped it and cleared my throat.

“As yet, I am uncomfortable about giving a timeframe. But rest assured that we have men and women working around the clock to administer it as fast as possible, in as many places as we can. We will also be introducing training programs to members of the public who wish to volunteer to help us speed up the process.”

“Many are expressing concerns about your supernatural workforce. How can we trust they won’t turn on us?” a male reporter asked.

“They will earn your trust,” I told him firmly. “You cannot paint all supernaturals with the same brush. Just as you cannot with humans.”

Dozens more questions were thrown my way regarding our methods and plans, until finally I had to put a stop to it and call for two last questions. My group was exhausted and it wasn’t fair to hold them up like this. We could hold a large press conference in a few days’ time.

“Where do you plan to go now, Mr. Novak?”

“Home, for a few days of rest.”

“Will The Shade remain your home, even with your newly appointed duties?” the blonde-haired woman asked.

At this, I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, Miss Porter. No matter how far away my duties take me, or for how long, The Shade will always remain my home.”