Wings and Shadowthief by May Sage
Further than Blood
24th of March 2158
"Again."
Jack sighed, getting seriously tired of these endless sessions. He was eager to get to the bottom of his problem, of course, but getting his ass kicked by his former trainers didn't seem to be the solution here.
"That thing's not going to come out against you, Kas," Jack stated. "You're a scary motherfucker, but I know you're not a danger to me."
Over the last week, they had tried to trick his alter ego into surfacing. Spells and potions hadn't worked. Getting a beating wasn't doing the trick either.
Kassandros tilted his head. "You seem to understand the creature."
Frustrated, Jack cracked his nose back into place. "It seems pretty simple. When I can't handle something, it takes care of it. It was one thing when it surfaced in the middle of a battle, but now it comes forward when I get a nightmare, or something. I need to be held accountable for what I do. I have to be watched or restrained."
He was analyzing the situation as Jack Hunter, head of one of the largest division of huntsmen in the world. If it had happened to anyone else, he would have come to the same conclusion. He needed shackles or to be locked away.
"Your mother disagrees." William Drake was sipping a glass of vintage red from his sofa, arm thrown behind his wife's shoulders. Fay read a book, ignoring the display of violence as much as she could, though Jack had seen her wince once or twice. His honorary aunt had always been a softie. "And your mother is usually right."
"My mother doesn't want her most useful subordinate out of commission if she can help it, but you know what it's like to not be in control."
The Drakes came from a line of dragon shifters, so their inner creatures were considerably more powerful and cranky than the average vampires, hence why Jack had gone to them, rather than surrendering himself to the huntsmen. He'd hoped for a solution, or at least some understanding. And if it came down to it, he preferred to be killed by his extended family rather than his own mother.
"I do, which is why I know it's not the case with you. You came to us. That thing inside you could have prevented it, but it didn't. We need to understand it. Again," the vampire archduke of America repeated.
Jack exhaled as Kas drew his fist back.
Blow after blow, hit after hit, he took the beating, but as he'd guessed, he remained entirely conscious and in control through it all, because well, Kas was Kas. A tough motherfucker who would murder a litter of puppies and sleep without blinking if it was to protect his people, but Jack wasn't a threat at the present, so Kas wouldn't hurt him.
Jack twisted his shoulder back into its socket with a wince. "This is getting boring. And useless."
"Useless?" William repeated. "You think I'd waste precious moments on useless ventures, boy?"
Jack truly hated spending time with immortals. He was twenty-eight, dammit.
"The thing isn't going to come out."
"Evidently, Jackie." Fay's soft voice and sweet smile cleared some of the tension in the room. "You've proven that, even enduring undue torture at the hands of a friend, you wouldn't retaliate. You're not a danger to those you love."
Jack frowned. That explained Fay's presence. He'd wondered why she'd attended his beatings, when the woman wasn't a fighter, and had a pronounced dislike for violence. Now it made sense. His family was trying to prove that he wouldn't attack innocents. Fay was a vampire, turned after giving birth to William's two heirs, but she was as close to vulnerable as their kind ever got.
"I'm not a danger, sure, but we still don't know what that thing would do."
Or what it had done.
Jack's mind traveled back to big brown eyes, long lashes, and dark, soft skin that smelled like sunshine.
Strange; it was possible that his alter ego might have killed in Russia, but what Jack truly couldn't forgive was that it had taken Gwen and fucked up his tentative friendship with the gorgeous witch. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. How dared he? How could that thing take advantage of him and Gwen? It must have realized what a mess it was leaving him in.
“Well, we know it won’t attack your old trainer, or your lovely aunt and uncle.” William got to his feet, offering a hand to his wife.
The duke and duchess were technically Tris’s family, not directly Jack’s.
Tris’s father, Adrian, was William’s brother, in every way that mattered. William’s insane father, who’d inspired the iconic Dracula, had built Adrian as a weapon, using blood magic and far too many spells on a dying newborn. Though they weren’t technically born of the same flesh, Adrian, William, and their elder brother, Michael Drake, the king of American vampires, shared Drake blood and all the powers that came with it. After centuries of fighting each other, they’d recently embraced each other to fight against the rest of the world.
The Drakes had a place on Night Hill, like any member of the seven families—though their house had also been blown to pieces last Halloween—but they didn’t care one way or another. Their home was New York, and they ruled it—along with the rest of America—with an iron fist. Not overly concerned with human affairs, they focused on paranormal creatures, but the American regular government didn’t often dare to step in any direction without checking with them first.
Tris’s mother, Trisha Hunter, bridged the gap between huntsmen and sups when she fell for Adrian. Until then, they’d been openly hostile, jumping at the slightest provocation. Trisha and her sister Becca put an end to it.
Jack remembered spending countless nights at the Drake tower growing up. Whenever his parents were on a mission, which was most evenings, he was left with his cousins. Only Trisha also worked all the time, which meant that the vampires in this room had picked up his toy knives and wiped his butt more often that he cared to admit.
They were family, and he couldn’t imagine ever hurting any of them. A lot of his friends often mistakenly believed Jack had a thing against vampires. That wasn’t anywhere close to the truth. What he fucking hated was having to kill any of them. Offing a bloodsucker, rogue or otherwise, felt like betraying his people.
Not that he’d ever tell anyone that. He liked to keep his weaknesses close to his chest.
“I get what you’re saying. I, and that thing, aren’t going to mess up here. But that doesn’t guarantee I won’t be a danger to a stranger in the street.” He didn’t understand the darker part of him, and that was dangerous. “I need to control it.”
“You may certainly attempt to. Michael managed to get your mother an appointment with the Salem witches in the morrow.” Jack had known William long enough to realize he didn’t approve from the thin line of his mouth. “Just remember: witch clans are rarely trustworthy, and never straightforward.”
Fay stuck her tongue out at her husband. “I resent that.”
William kissed the tip of her nose. “You weren’t raised in a coven, princess.” To Jack, he said, “I’ve known hundreds of witches, and liked several. A witch may think of helping you. A coven helps itself.”
Jack was aware of that. And vampire clans, shifter packs, even the huntsmen, functioned the same way, to an extent; the wellbeing of their peers came before anyone else’s.
Too bad he didn’t have a choice.