Chapter Thirteen: Mason

I plan it all out well. I wait for the old man and his wife to leave the house to go to the small village not far from their home to get supplies, and then I slip inside. An ancient dagger sat in the catacombs of my prison. An ancient dagger surrounded by the myth that it had potential to kill an Ancient Vampire. A fabrication constructed by me to someday use at the necessary time to root out those who believed they could go against me.

It proved successful.

Though I do wonder when it will have found a need for use again. A network of thieves that could have brought a promising relationship between myself and Drakka now reduced to another rebuild. The infrastructure is there for the shifter named Stanley to simply slide in and take control, but I’m not certain if that’s going to move as simple as I would like it to. Drakka built the empire; why would they, in this age, bow down to a new emperor who has no standing in the realm?

A good spy doesn’t make for a good leader.

And yet, he gave me all the information I needed, sourcing it all back to the old man, Eustace. Going to town. Getting drunk. Explaining his hatred for me and the dagger that has the potential to kill me. How foolish he must have been to think it would actually work. Then again, why wouldn’t I keep it hidden away? A dagger that had the potential to kill me under my own lock and key?

A fool in his own right.

A small dog comes to sit at my feet. I wait in Eustace’s chair, my guns on my lap. The old man’s shotgun behind the seat where it lays forever unless he’s using it to threaten.

Why, I wonder, did he decide to do this now?

Was it the girl? Was it Jack who came to collect her?

It doesn’t matter, I suppose. Whatever the reason was, he has to be punished for his crimes.

So, I wait. The longer I wait, the more I consider the celebration he must be having. The old lady will have no understanding of why they will be celebrating. A night out…

Doesn’t make sense that they are going to get supplies for the house.

Will he come here drunk? Will he come here and see me begging for forgiveness? I wonder.

Seven becomes eight, eight becomes ten. Time goes by. I’m watching television. This is the old man’s life. Now I understand why he has become so bitter.

“Today in the news, Senator Trafalgar announced a new bill to be passed stating that the supernatural community will need to be tagged. The process involves an RFID chip being placed into the hand of the supernatural in question, allowing whichever creature has it inside them to be easily recognized and identifiable. This will give normal people the opportunity to stand a chance if it ever comes to some ill-fated intentions of the supernatural community.” The broadcaster goes quiet for a second, and it cuts to a clip of Senator Trafalgar standing in front of a crowd, addressing the bill he wants to pass.

“The chip isn’t meant to deter supernaturals. It’s just so that we stand a chance. We’re just prey and play things to them, and we can’t allow this. If I had the opportunity, I would tag the gods themselves.” Again, it cuts, this time back to the presenter.

“There we have a clip from Senator Trafalgar himself. What does this mean for the supernaturals? Stay tuned for more.”

This may become problematic.

I hear the rumbling from the old car the elderly drive. It’s in dire need for a service, but the old couple does not care for those small things. The old lady, I understand, doesn’t know how to drive. Her husband was a greedy man. Keeping the generous wealth he would have made over the years that I have had them in my employ well distributed to either generate more funds or safe for a rainy day.

I’ve kept an eye on it all.

“Eustace, you left the TV on again,” the old lady complains, walking up the creaky steps of the porch.

“I didn’t. I turned it off. I must have pushed the button twice.” I can hear he’s had a few drinks on his night out. Sober enough to be cognitive. Good. It would be pointless to explain a lesson to a man that has no understanding of what he is learning.

She is the first to see me. She screams in shock. She sees the guns on my lap. I can tell she knows her husband has done something wrong.

“Mason!” she says. Eustace has already run into the house, stopping at the door, wide-eyed at the sight of me. He was no doubt trying to get to his shotgun.

“I don’t think you should be here for this,” I say to the old lady.

“Take your pup.” He’s no longer a pup. Not by any means. He’s now an old dog. One thing I have found that has passed through every incarnation of myself has been the way I’ve never stopped calling a dog a pup and a cat a kitten, no matter the age they become. “I have to speak with your husband.”

“Come, boy,” she speaks, and the dog jumps up, running out of the room with her. She knows where this is going. Not the why but only the how.

“Eustace, take a seat.” I gesture to the double-seater beside me. “I know what you have done.”

“Mason, now let’s not get ca–”

“Take a seat,” I point to where he must go and sit down with the black gun Ankh created. He follows my order and says nothing else. He takes his hat off and folds it in his hands.

“Yes, sir,” I chuckle.

“Your fate does not change. You can talk me up however you choose,” I add so that he understands the severity of what he has done. “In a drunken stupor, you told those bar dwellers that there is a way to kill Ancient vampires. A drunken stupor that found itself going back to a network of thieves and spies. Do you understand the implications of what you have done here?”

“I do.” I hear the fear in his voice.

“The chain of command has always been me, your wife, and then you, Eustace. In acting selfishly, what have you left for her?” He listens but says nothing. He looks at my face but does not meet my eye.

“What you have done is allowed the integrity of my prison to be voided.” Luckily, with Stanley as the only who knew about Drakka’s organization in the bar, it seems that no one else will have tracked him back here. Safety is not necessarily a thing this place holds, but at the same time, I don’t know if I have the drive to move it yet. The witches now have a source of power from the energy the imprisoned and dead vampires have left here. So, I will keep it as is, so long as we stay on good terms. “Your wife is in danger now. She will no longer be able to maintain my prison on her own. It’s a good thing you were not the squandering kind. She will live well for the remainder of her life as a millionaire.”

I can see this statement also comes as a surprise.

“How did you know?”

“I always keep a close eye on my investments. I thought you were smarter than this, Eustace. I truly wish it could have gone another way, but it can’t. I have built a life on making examples of people like you. Those who I thought I could trust and then feel the cold sting of betrayal and thus, you must find your peace. Pray to your god and ask him for forgiveness.” I know he’s religious, and these tendencies were only enhanced when the Supernatural community was exposed and he knew the old gods were real.

He drops down on his knees. He prays. I hear him mumbling and whimpering.

“Forgive me.” The only words he says to me after saying his peace.

“That I can’t do.”

I place the gun against his forehead and pull the trigger. I take a note from my pocket and rest it on the old man’s chest.

I’m sorry, it says – an apology for what I have done to the old lady as well as the various accounts and details of the vast wealth she has now inherited.

I leave. The old woman does not interfere. Not until I walk out the house. Then I hear her screaming for her husband and cursing my name.

Just another day in paradise.