Part One
Then
“It’s easy to glance in the rearview mirror, judging everything and everyone behind you. It’s a lot harder to keep an open mind when focusing on the path ahead.” —Marcy Dotter
“Forever is a long time to live with regrets.” —Abraham “Bram” Van Helsing
Chapter One
Bram
Hoia-Baciu Forest, west of Cluj-Napoca, Transylvania, Romania, six weeks ago…
Abraham (Bram) Van Helsing stared down at the moonlit aftermath of the carnage before him. All the death, all the evil that remained, had a backdrop that was hauntingly beautiful. From the mists rising off the ground to the crooked trees that seemed to defy nature, logic, and gravity, the spot felt as if it was enchanted.
In truth, it was cursed.
Bathed in darkness and hungry for blood. There was a heady mix of decay, from rotting wood and leaves, the forest in general, and from the bodies. While the victims hadn’t been dead long, Bram’s supernatural senses could pick up everything, including the large quantity of blood coating the area. He didn’t need to see it all to know it was there. He could smell it. It excited the part of himself that he tried to keep hidden from everyone. The very side that set him apart from the rest of the Van Helsings.
The demon.
Bram didn’t dare let his guard down or give in to the lure of the blood that seemed to be everywhere. His control had been hard-fought and had taken well over a century to attain. He refused to let that victory be diminished in a moment of weakness, especially when he knew that had been one of the goals of the man responsible for the bloodshed.
A dangerous supernatural who had been a thorn in Bram’s side for over a hundred years, going dormant for decades, only to resurface, making sure Bram was aware he’d returned. Nothing was ever easy when it came to the old foe.
Ager.
It was as if his name was a self-fulfilling prophecy. It meant gatherer, and that summed up Ager nicely. He was like moss on a rolling stone, collecting other criminal supernatural masterminds as he went. He was feared among most circles.
Ager was a natural-born necromancer—someone whose magik centered on death. He could reach through the veil between the living and the dead. He could control vampires who were under a certain age. He could raise the dead depending on the age of the corpse. It was said he could drain the life force from the living. All Bram knew for certain was that others feared Ager and followed him blindly. He’d surfaced with a vengeance recently, leaving behind a river of red from the death and destruction he’d caused. If left unchecked, there was no telling what the man was capable of, and Bram didn’t want to find out.
He needed to be stopped.
In all the years Bram had been hunting the bastard, Ager had worked with nearly all the greats—an all-star league of paranormal heavy hitters. Supernaturals so evil and vicious, their very names were spoken in hushed whispers by most.
He’d not become what he was alone. He had the backing of a group so large they had proven impossible to take down—The Order of the Dragon.
The Order was a secret society devoted to the supernatural, whose end goal was ever fluid but appeared to center on no longer hiding from humans but instead, ruling them. It was composed of nearly every type of supernatural creature there was, all vying for more power and a higher standing within their group.
Often, internal power plays and fighting kept The Order semi-manageable.
Over the years, The Order had made multiple attempts to get Bram to stand with them, rather than against. The very idea of aligning himself with the likes of The Order set his teeth on edge. They existed to be in direct opposition to all that he held true and right. Regardless of how many tempting carrots they dangled in his face, he would not join them.
He didn’t need or want power badly enough to give away what little was left of his soul. Already he straddled a fine line between good and evil. Pressing his luck was unwise.
Bram wasn’t sure what, if any, position of power Ager held in The Order, but he had to assume the man was revered. The few face-to-face encounters Bram had with the man spoke volumes to the man’s ego. It was virtually endless. Bram could only take a guess that The Order was the one stroking said ego.
The gang of supernaturals Ager had run with for a long time was infamous. A veritable who’s who of evildoers. And from the looks of the dead bodies around Bram, the band was back together again.
The trail of destruction they’d left in their wake in recent weeks was proving to be difficult to hide from the humans. If it continued, the secret of supernaturals existing was at risk.
With the ever-increasing abilities of law enforcement and advancements in forensics, it was all Bram and the others like him could do to keep a lid on the truth. Ager and The Order didn’t care if the truth was out there.
Then again, the newest kills had been tucked away from the general public’s view. In a spot that wasn’t the killer’s normal stomping grounds. Typically, Ager and his crew liked to hunt and kill in populated cities, making a show of it, not in the middle of a forest. There wasn’t quite the same shock and awe. But this kill site wasn’t for the public’s consumption. It wasn’t to get his name—or some variation of it—in the newspapers, creating panic and intrigue.
This one was off the beaten path.
It was a message.
The spot held meaning to Bram. It wasn’t Bram’s first time in Romania—or even the Hoia-Baciu Forest. It marked the spot where he’d shed his mortal coil, only to take up the mantle of darkness. Bram had fought the battle of good and evil from the shadows, steadfast in his convictions even if a part of him fought against his decisions on nearly every issue.
There had been only a few times in his life, since he’d become one with the demon inside him, that they’d come to an understanding. One of those times had been when Bram had insisted his daughter, Dana, be whisked away from him shortly after she’d been born. That she be raised far from him and the world of supernaturals. Bram and the demon he carried had believed they were acting in Dana’s best interests. That they were protecting her from evil.
While that had been forty years ago, the death surrounding him in the Poiana Rotunda—the round glade—of the forest said the decision had been a good one. His world was violent, and he didn’t want that to touch her any more than it already had. After all, he was the embodiment of death.
The demon, already on edge with the smell of blood coming at him from all directions, growled inside Bram. It didn’t like being reminded its offspring was far from it.
For all the demon’s faults, it cared for Dana. Bram dared to say the demon even loved her. It wanted her safe but it also wanted her close.
So did Bram—to a point.
The problem was, she believed him to be long dead. Telling her differently now would also mean having to disclose the truth—that he was immortal. There would be no other way to explain why he looked no more than forty years of age. And at last check, Dana was still in the dark on supernaturals being real, let alone the fact her father was one.
Technically, so was she.
The demon snarled at him from within.
Blood was everywhere, seeping into the forest floor, splattered onto nearby blades of grass, even finding its way to the tree line. The metallic-smelling liquid called to his darkness, presenting a tempting buffet for it to lose itself in.