C7 Chapter 7

The next morning, Collin took a shower and quietly left his room, the flash drive on a chain around his neck hidden underneath his shirt. He passed by the dining room where his dad is, “Collin,” he called out. Collin stopped and walked back to the doorway of the dining area. “Come. Seat with me. Have breakfast,” his dad said, motioning to the table with delicious breakfast properly arranged in the middle. One of their helpers placed a cloth mat on the table and placed a plate, a knife and fork, and a saucer on the right side with a cup of coffee.

“You do realize that vampires don’t eat,” Collin said matter-of-factly. “I know, but I still do want to feel human from time to time. You know that,” he replied.

“Feel human? Dad, you were never a human. The moment you turned us into vampires, you lost your humanity. We were all healthy. None of us were sick! You didn’t want to live alone that’s why one by one you turned us! And you fucking started with me!”

“Collin, I –“

“Ginny was 7 years old, dad! You could have waited! They all died because of you! You did this.”

Collin walked out on his dad. He was furious. He remembered how painful their deaths were, especially Ginny’s. Hunters thought that their mom turned Ginny because she was a child, and kids who were turned are out of control. No one, not even the Alphas, can control them. When word got out, they were hunted down. Collin was able to run to another nest, the ones in the warehouse where he met Mia. But his mom and Jacob? They were decapitated. And Ginny? Well, she was beheaded and burned. Their dad was nowhere to be found. No one knew where he was that night. Collin only knew when Heath tracked him down to tell him that his dad is safe. He never forgave him. Who would forgive someone who caused death to his family? Certainly not Collin.

***

I was asleep in my truck when I heard a loud thud. I’m not sure if something fell on top of the truck….or at the back. I was pissed, very pissed to be exact, when the thought of something or someone swan dived on the back of my truck. I pulled my hair up to a bun and angrily took my jacket. I went out from the backseat, my forehead scrunched. I checked around and under my truck for any signs of dents, marks – claws, teeth, feet – there were none. I stood there with my hands on my waist when I smelled something foul.

I looked around, slowly putting my hands down to my side. I closed my eyes and smelled the air – sulfur. I quickly opened my eyes and ran back inside my truck. I readied a few things, close enough for me to be able to snatch when I needed them. I turned my keys to start the engine, but it wasn’t working. I am panicking. This is bad, this is really bad, I thought. I tried one more time, but the engine just wasn’t starting. I looked up only to see a guy standing a few feet away from the truck. “How on earth –“ I whispered to myself. I slowly opened the door and went out, “sir? Is everything alright? Sir?”

But the man wasn’t moving. He just stood there with his head down. “Sir?” but this time I said it in a whisper. He lifted his head up, he seems….dead. I was going to make another stupid mistake of walking closer when his head turned to face me. His eyes were black as night, and he smiled – a contorted smile – the kind you see in your nightmares. He opened his mouth and black ooze started spilling out. It was like tar. It smelled so rotten that covering your nose will not help. I was having a panic attack at the wrong place and wrong time. I stood there when suddenly, he disappeared. All I can see was dust, flying through air. Someone saved me from it. He was standing there, the sun setting behind him, making it look like he’s just a silhouette.

“What you got there is a witness,” a familiar deep voice said, and he was holding a wrought iron – the one that came from someone’s fireplace – he stood there the way I always remember. Standing tall, broad shoulders, wearing his signature button V-neck shirt that is mostly in black, gray, army green, or navy blue, jeans, and his trusty black combat boots. “Dad,” I whispered with my eyes wide.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said with a smile on his face. “Finally,” I mumbled as I ran towards him. I hugged him and he gave me an even tighter hug, then he kissed the top of my head. I wanted to cry, I really do, but I was raised to stiffen that upper lip no matter what.

My dad lead the way going to an underground parking lot. I parked my car just a few spaces from his, then he lead me to an elevator. There was an awkward silence during our ride up, because after 3 years of searching, I found him alive when I already assumed he was a goner. The elevator door opened, and saw a beautiful, well-stocked apartment looking place. “Is this where you’ve been?” I asked, a little bit hurt, to be honest. “Uhm, yeah. I was, uhm, I built it. For you,” he said as we both walked out of the elevator.

“You…you built…this?” I asked, slowly spinning around while walking. Taking everything in. “This was an old mansion. I rebuilt the inside and just warded the outside,” he said opening the fridge and got out 2 bottles of water. I gave him a weird look, “warded? You mean, like,”

“What witches do. To protect their homes and themselves. I met a few of them during my hunts and they’ve taught me a lot of hoodoos, voodoos, and some spells, too.”

“In exchange for?”

“Safety. I kept them safe while a few people in the government were hunting them down,” he explained.

“Hunting them down? Like in the 15th century kind of hunting?”

“Yup. I found some platforms in the middle of a street in New Orleans just a few months back, and there was a scorched body tied up at the pole. It was…it was disheartening.”

“But why? I mean, witches have been underground for years. You wouldn’t know if a person is one even if you walk down the street,” I complained as I sat down on the armrest of the couch.

“Yeah, well, the government. They all wanted full protection from the gods, goddesses, and monsters. Not only do they want protection, but they also wanted fruition. They wanted their hidden small towns to prosper and away from everything.”

“So, they torched those who didn’t want to help them?”

“Yeah, exactly,” he drank his water and placed the empty bottle in the recycling. He proceeded to take my duffel bag and placed it in my room. Can you believe it? I have my own room! I have a room!

For years, this is the first time my dad cooked for me. After mom died, all he did was order take-outs and drink beer, addition to hunting the thing that possibly killed my mom. “Mia,” he started.

“Yeah?” I said as I try to swallow my salad. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I, uhm, I couldn’t protect you all these years. I got in over my head, trying to find out who killed your mom. I failed at that, too. I don’t have any leads. Eric couldn’t either. I failed so bad that I hid here instead of looking for you and trying to protect –“

“Dad. Dad,” I said, cutting him off, “it’s okay. I was looking for you and I was about to give up when you showed up. We both went through a lot, so let’s just forget about it. At least now, we’re here. We’re both okay,” I gave him a reassuring smile and we continued our dinner. Moments later, his phone rang, my dad excused himself to answer it. I looked at the direction he was going, and saw he has a working landline. Maybe I should get that number just in case we get separated again, I thought.

He, then walked back to his chair, pressing his hands on the backrest, “what do you think of you and me hunting together? What do you say?” he smiled. “Now?”

He nodded. I took our plates and placed them on the sink and ran to my room to get my jacket plus my duffel bag then walked back to the dining area where my dad was waiting, and chuckling. We both went back to the parking lot and rode in our respective cars, following my dad’s pick-up.

We arrived in an abandoned warehouse. Fuck, don’t tell me this is another nest, I thought as I turn off my truck’s engine. I looked over at my dad’s truck, he was already at the back getting his own duffel bag. So, I opened my door and got out, my bag hanging on my left shoulder. “Who was on the phone?” I asked as I walked beside my dad. “What? Oh, uhm, a friend I met in one of my hunts said he found mutilated cows around the area and some sulfur. I’m guessing we’re dealing with –“

“Demons?”

He answered my question by cocking his gun. It was the gun I wanted ever since I was 12 when I first saw it, he called it his “special gun” because it kills demons instantly and not only that, but it also kills even the strongest monster that ever existed. I never knew what it was made of, but he said it was passed down to him by my grandpa. Generations of hunters had it, now it’s my dad’s turn, hoping he will pass it down to me when the time comes.

We carefully entered the warehouse, but nothing was inside. It was literally empty. In the back of my head, I knew that this must be a setup for my dad. Someone wants him. Dead or alive, they will do whatever it takes to get their hands on him.

As we walked around, scoping the empty warehouse, we heard a loud crash. We both got startled and readied our guns. We heard another loud crash, then suddenly, my dad fired his gun on an empty space and then another. On the floor, I saw black ooze and my dad started pushing me towards the entrance of the warehouse when it suddenly closed on our faces. From behind us, we heard a growl. Angry, disoriented, low, and bone chilling growl. “Dad, what’s going on? What the hell is that?” I said as I slowly turned around to look for that thing that was growling. In my view, there’s nothing there. All I can see is an empty warehouse. “Those are Hellhounds, Mia,” my dad said nervously, “and I think they’re here for you.”