Chapter 3: Coming Home
SERINE'S POV
"Which way did they go?" Marcus demanded. He advanced on Serine, grabbed her shoulder with one hand, and shook her slightly.
Serine shook her head and couldn't meet his angry gaze. "I don't know, I'm sorry." A slight, European accent added a lilt to her voice, slightly stronger as she lied to him for the first time. She lightly touched the side of her forehead. "I can't hear them anymore."
Marcus swore and shoved her aside. He moved past her and called over the rest of the Masquerade. "We're done, boys," he growled. "The psychic's lost 'em. And for the last time, John, leave the bloody dog alone."
As the small group of vampires climbed out of the Mundane's yard, a younger one near the back of the group stood up, looking sheepish. The previously furious dog he'd been petting through the fence whined at him for stopping.
Without a glance at Serine, Marcus began the trek back to the gang's home. The others followed quickly, some with sympathetic looks at Serine, but most just ignored her entirely.
Serine sighed and glanced in the direction Remmis had disappeared before she turned and hurried to keep up with the vampires. Isaiah wasn't going to be happy, but hopefully he'd take it out on Marcus and the others, rather than her. Serine ran a hand through her shoulder-length white blonde hair and pulled her jacket closer to herself as a biting cold wind tore through the street. One of the vampires slowed, allowing her to catch up to him. She hunched further into her coat as she drew up alongside him.
"Okay there, Serine?" he asked as his eyes swept up and down her slim form.
"Yes, thank you, Collin," she replied quietly. She tried to ignore his staring. He was a newer member of the gang, only having turned and joined a year ago. He didn't have the same fear of Isaiah as the rest of them did.
Collin smiled while he stared at her soft, pale features. He shook his head and looked away. "So how's this stuff work?" he asked, gesturing to her.
Serine shrugged one shoulder, still struggling to keep up with the much faster vampires. "I just... concentrate on a person. Usually I can hear them and sometimes talk to them."
"Can you hear me right now?"
"Only when you speak."
Collin laughed as if she'd made a joke. At the sound, Marcus turned from his place at the front of the group and barked Collin's name. Immediately the young vampire stopped laughing. He glanced at Serine and, receiving nothing in return, he sped back up to join the others.
Serine let out a quiet sigh of relief.
The trek through the midnight streets resumed without issue. Isaiah's gang was well known in the city among the magical population and the very few on the streets who saw the group pass, turned away to appear as inconsequential as possible.
As the group approached the gang's home they began to slow slightly, allowing Serine to catch up. The mansion they approached was once one of the grandest in the city before the fires of 1871 had destroyed most of it. Intrigued by the historical aspect of the property, not to mention the violence and death attached to it, Isaiah had purchased the remains of the home and had partially patched it up. The mansion currently had the look of a long-abandoned home with an overgrown lawn, unkempt brush, and nearly destroyed walkway out front. The appearance served a dual purpose—the Mundanes believed the property to be useless and therefore something to be ignored, while those with magic recognized the power woven into the wood and ancient bricks to hold the building together for what they were: a warning to stay away.
Isaiah was waiting on the front porch as the group approached, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his chiseled, clean-shaven face. The white scar that went across the right side of his face, from eyebrow to chin, nearly glowed in the lamp light. Marcus approached slowly and said a few words to him that Serine couldn't hear. By his gesturing, she assumed he was blaming her for the failure to capture Remmis. Serine ducked her head as Isaiah glanced over. His icy blue eyes threatened to pierce through her with obvious anger.
She remained in place, head lowered, as the vampires stepped into the mansion, the door closing behind them. She held still, barely breathing, as Isaiah walked toward her. He paused inches from her. The lack of breathing was unnerving.
"I am very disappointed," he said quietly. His appearance suggested he was from the Middle East, perhaps Egypt, but any trace of accent he might have from living in that area was gone. Centuries of practice and vocal training left only a dark neutrality in his voice.
Serine remained silent, not trusting her ability to lie to him.
He moved to her side and snaked an arm around her waist. He pulled her close to him and took a deep breath of her hair. "You did not come into contact with Remmis," he said.
Serine shook her head, conscious of the sharp fangs only inches from her.
"You did speak to them, yes?" he pressed.
"Yes, sir," she squeaked.
He frowned, waiting for more.
Serine fumbled for words. "Um, yes, I found them for a moment, but I lost the connection and they moved out of range." She bit her lip and quickly added, "I'm sorry, sir."
Isaiah sighed and moved his arm up to around her shoulder. "These things happen," he said, drawing her along toward the house. "We know they are still within the city, at least, yes?"
She just nodded, allowing herself to be moved.
"You will have another chance tomorrow night," Isaiah continued. He opened the door to the mansion and lightly pushed her inside. "Go get your dinner, little one, before I decide differently."
Serine shivered at the thinly veiled threat and hurried through the large main hall. The mansion looked completely different on the inside. It was beautifully decorated with rich, thick rugs, several well-preserved tapestries hung from the walls, and original lanterns were used alongside modern lights to brighten up the otherwise dark rooms. Though the vampires didn't feel the cold, Isaiah kept the place warm for the few members of his gang that did.
Quick on her feet, Serine removed her jacket and tucked it under one arm as she ducked through the halls, dodging the various vampires and small imps that served them. She slipped into the kitchen and waited patiently for the chef to notice her.
Chef was not an entirely accurate title for the rotund and powerful woman who dominated the kitchens; keeper would have been more accurate. Lena delighted in keeping the food ready and alive for the vampires of the gang. What little food she bothered to prepare for the few members who didn't drink blood was usually bland and burnt. Food was food though and with the Hunters cracking down all over Chicago, Serine wasn't willing to risk making Lena angry and losing out on it.
After several minutes of ignoring her entirely, Lena finally turned and shoved a plateful of chicken and soggy looking noodles into Serine's eager hands. Serine thanked her and hurried away once more, snagging a fork from the counter as she left.
Just down the hall from the kitchen was Serine's room. She slipped inside, shut the door quietly, and took a deep breath. Calmed, Serine tossed her jacket into a corner and turned on the meager, naked light bulb that hung from the ceiling. The room had once been a hall before the fires and had since been converted into a tiny little bedroom. There was just enough space for a mattress and a little walking area. The floor was original hardwood and the walls had been repainted in a simple white with no decorations. Compared to what she'd had before, Serine considered it perfect... even if she was forced to do bad things in exchange for the safety. It was infinitely better than the thin blankets, stone floors, and constant abuse Isaiah had taken her away from.