Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Damned ❯ It Is Foretold ( Chapter 8 )

Chapter 8: It Is Foretold
I had stopped spying on Cassandra. She texted me with what she was doing daily – so there was really no need to be following her. Meanwhile, Medea had stopped following me; so there was no façade to put up. Menoch was still not discussing the uprising with me; I apparently had not gained back his trust that much. Through bits of conversation I heard I could tell it was going to be an infiltration; but I had no idea what kind of infiltration. It sounded sneaky –and it sounded soon. That was the prospect I was not keen on – the battle sounded much too close for comfort.
I still had not made my final decision on where my loyalties lied. It was obvious that I was bound to my clan by a blood ritual older than time itself. When I drank from Menoch to become like I am, the deal through blood binding, is almost in terms of the signing of a contract of servitude. A new vampire is bound to their maker until their maker dies (or the fledgling does). It was this way with Menoch and I. I had drunk from him to become free, when in actually he had deceived me – he was free; I could never be free without his death.
The other catch was that I could not kill him; therefore, I was to be loyal to him until some other vampire was stupid enough to oppose him (and clever enough to win). I was also bound to be loyal; which is hard to do when you have suddenly obtained a loyalty to someone else; i.e. an adorable vampire huntress.
I had not given Cassandra any more warning about anything. She had her coven and I had my covenant. There was no reason to betray those laws anymore – they had been set within our Deoxyribonucleic acid before we even knew what was happening. I looked at my phone as it lit up – new text message: “Can’t hang out. Training. Love”. I resisted the urge to text back – to tell her to have fun, or train hard, or some other sweet boy cliché. Instead I turned the phone off – she would be too busy to notice that I never texted back anyway.
“Connor,” I looked up to see Menoch in my doorway.
“Yes?” I queried.
“I have been keeping things from you.” he stood near me. A discomfort played on his face and his posture was unnerved.
“Such as all of the plans for the uprising?” I had decided that bitterness and resentment were two emotions that I was good at dealing with – and it showed.
“Yes. I have not been open with you because I was concerned your feelings for the huntress had compromised you as an agent.” He admitted.
“An idea Medea put in to your head, no doubt.”
“Yes. While she did plant the seed of doubt, your behaviors over the past few weeks have displayed a reason for me to be concerned too. You have seemed much too friendly with the huntress and-”
“I told you, the only way to gain information is too befriend the witch. I have to gain her trust before she will tell me about training. But you need not worry at any rate. Through my obvservations I have learned that their methods are no different than they have been for hundreds of years Menoch. They are no immediate threat. Following the huntress is pointless.”
“Another detail I have kept from you Connor.” This time Menoch sat beside me and his eyes grew almost weary with strain. “For years I have looked at you as somewhat of a son. You have been my companion, and more valuable to me than any of my other fledglings.” He rarely admitted his feelings so I kept quiet and let him talk. “That is why I entrusted you with the task of watching the huntress. I could easily tell you that the crones are not going to change their ways. Take a stake; stab the vampire, end of discussion. But the huntress is not like the others. She is special.”
“Special how?” my curiosity was overwhelming.
“It is prophesized –”
“Prophesized? We are going to listen to gypsies and prophets? Menoch may I point out the ridiculousness of –”
“No, you may not. In case you have not noticed, our entire existence is ridiculous! Aédán, my creator, had lived for so very long he could barely remember who had turned him. Connor my boy, our very reason for being here is completely inconclusive. What we do have are facts. Fact one, we are here. Fact two, the witches hunt us. Fact three, we listen to prophets. Prophets told me I would have a son some day. I never had a son Connor. Not when I was human, and certainly not as a vampire. But yet here I am, talking with you who I could not love more if you were my blood. In a way you are my blood; our blood exchange has made us closer than parents and their offspring. You are my son Connor. Will you believe what I am about to tell you?”
“Yes Menoch.”
“It is prophesized that if the Huntress succeeds in her training, our race will end. Vampires will cease to exist. We will all die. An extermination is on the horizon, and it all starts with your girlfriend.”
“Menoch, what exactly did the prophecy say?” I was not one to believe in future telling and hokum, but Menoch had a point – our very existence was impossible, who was I to deny other forms of absurdity?
“The prophecy, foretold to me by a mystic while we were in New Orleans stated that a great uprising was to come for us; and that our people had to fight to overcome a great and terrible disaster. The mystic told me of a young girl who would enter the world, born to a family of witches, of vampire hunters and huntresses. This young girl was the key to our destruction; she would corrupt our system and turn us on each other. In so doing she would weaken us, and in the battle, we would fall. If she lives, we die.”
“That is very vague. It could be talking about any girl. Any vampire huntress.” I hated prophecies.
“It is Cassandra. She must die. Either you will kill her-” he hesitated, “or I will kill you. Now tell me Connor. Where does your loyalty lie?”
I stole a side glance at my phone: she was only a human. A fragile, delicate human, who loved me despite the heartbreak it would cause. She didn’t deserve the torment. I stared into the eyes of Menoch, of my mentor and for all other failings, my friend. My throat clenched and I blinked hard, willing this decision to make itself; but in the end I knew the decision had been made for me.
I took a deep breath and spoke, “Menoch, my loyalties have always laid with you. What is the plan?”