Alex’s eyes scanned the main room of the manor. Blood and bodies covered the floor. The battle was over. They won and now the cleanup began.
     Several hunters stood amongst the fallen, removing the heads from the werewolves and vampires. Other personnel joined the scene, bringing with them gurneys from the medical wing. They piled one to two bodies on each gurney and wheeled them down to the lower levels. The power had returned, making the trip downstairs an easy one with the elevator back in service.
     Thunder rumbled from outside. The first storm swept through quickly but another system began marching over the mountains. It was a typical late summer night. The humid air ushered in many nightly storms.
     Alex glanced at the bottom of the stairs. His mind replayed the events which took place. How could he be so fearless in the face of any other situation, but when it came to staring down at an Original, he became locked in fear? This was not something he was use to. He mentally scolded himself.
     Yet there she was, glaring at him with ruthless eyes. Saros. A myth—this legend—solidified before him. The tale of the six Original Vampires came as an unproven story. There had been rumors of their actual existence, but there was never any real proof besides word of mouth. Tonight marked another milestone. He was nipping at this Original’s heels, stirring her enough to make herself known. Alex rejoiced in this small achievement. He was awakening the beast, daring it to make the next move.
     He noticed the blood on the railing. David’s blood. A strong feeling of loss crept through him. His mind continuously spat out three words that tensed the muscles in his stomach: David is dead.
     “We have the perimeter secured,” informed Pax.
     Alex snapped out of his current thought and returned to the matters at hand. “How many casualties?”
     “At last count, thirty-eight. Twenty-three are still missing.”
     Movement came from the busted front door. Weapons raised as a lone vampire entered.
     Zachary ignored the hunters and approached his father. His hair and clothes were soaked by the rain. “You were lucky this time, father,” he said, keeping his distance from Alex.
     “Luck had nothing to do with it,” his father replied.
     Zachary scoffed. “I was there. Saros could have killed everyone if she wanted to. You were lucky.”
     Alex stepped away from him and headed across the room. Pax and Zachary followed.
     “This isn’t over,” continued Zachary. “You think you won this battle but you haven’t.”
     “In this battle, we are the victors. I see no reason to believe I’ve been defeated.”
     They walked to the elevator as it closed with two hunters wheeling a full gurney. Alex went for the stairs.
     Zachary couldn’t believe his father’s brazenness. Had the many years of living his crusade blinded him to the truth?
     “You may have won this battle but you haven’t won the war,” he said.
     “In time,” replied Alex, opening the door to the first level. The scene was just as brutal as the carnage on the main room.
     The hunter, Jonathan, checked over the casualties. He stood, visually exhausted and covered in blood. His hair, once dark brown and wavy, looked stringy and black with the spilt blood from his many kills. He was one of the few who walked away without a single scratch.
     Pax wasn’t as fortunate. When the attack began, he was the first to feel the powerful jaws of a werewolf. The beast clamped onto his upper left arm and tried to rip the hunter apart. By the time the wolf’s teeth met bone, Pax delivered a silver stake to its eye, driving deep into the brain. The injury to his arm didn’t concern Pax. Within a day’s time, he would completely heal. Downplaying his injuries was the hardest part while working for Alex. But telling him his secret was never an option. Stick to the roll of obedient soldier.
     “So far, I’ve counted eighteen dead on this level alone,” Jonathan informed. He glanced through the dampened hair that fell in front of his face and saw Zachary. Jonathan grew tense. Why was he freely walking about?
     “You are not listening to me,” Zachary addressed Alex. “This is far from over. The attack was only a precursor of things to come.”
     Alex’s patience was wearing thin. “Leave,” he said coldly. “You were never welcome here. Leave now and my men will not harm you.” Alex felt a strong hand grab hold of his arm, throwing him into the wall. The hand then went around his neck and held tight, keeping him pinned to the wall.
     Zachary held onto his father and sneered.
     Every hunter in the room turned their attention to the commotion and raised their weapons. Jonathan and Pax did the same.
     “Let go!” Jonathan demanded.
     The vampire’s grip tightened. He glared at his father, eyes wild and fangs visible.
     Alex looked beyond him and at the hunters. His expression shown conflict. In this moment, he feared for his life and the life of his son. He steadied himself.
     “Look at me!” Zachary tightened his grip.
     His father’s eyes slowly found his son.
     “The war—your war,” he began, relaxing his hand, “will carry a far greater toll than you what see this night. The reasons you fight may be for the hope that no more innocent blood will be shed. But your acts are rooted in your selfishness. Continue to fight, if you wish, but the blood of the innocent will stain your hands, as well. I thought I could help you, but all I see is a misguided fool.” He removed his hand. “On this night, you lost your second child.”
     “Evonne…” Alex muttered, his voice threatening to give out. He remembered her running from the manor and after David. He also recalled the vampire she was with. “Where is she?”
     “She’s safe.”
     “Where is she?” he yelled.
     Zachary’s jaw tensed. “Far away from you.”
     Alex looked away. He gestured at the hunters, telling them to lower their weapons.
     “There is another force moving against you,” the vampire continued. “An organization called The Brotherhood of Osiris.” He stopped to see the interest in his father’s eyes. “Do you know of them?”
     “Marie,” admitted Alex, “she… she was working for them. This whole time and I didn’t even know.”
     “Are you aware of who and what they are?”
     The hunters listened, as well.
     “She, uh… ” he scrambled for words, “she told me she works for them.” He placed his hand to the knot on his head as he remembered the conversation. “Necromancers, I believe she said.”
     “That is only one part of The Brotherhood. They specialize in the manipulations of werewolves and vampires, bending them to their commands. Many of their prized ‘students’ have been responsible for several assassinations. I don’t know why they are against you. Perhaps they see you as a threat.”
     “How do you know about this?”
     “Word travels fast, and it is obvious you are a threat to The Brotherhood. Their forces are your prey. If Eden falls, SEVEN will follow, and then nothing will be able to stop The Brotherhood.”
     Alex’s pride gave rise to his anger. “Look around at this ‘Eden’! We have survived this long and we will survive to the end of this war.”
     Zachary composure turned passive. “If this is your wish, then I will leave. I’ll send your regards to Evonne.” He turned and started for the stairs.
     “Where is she?” begged Alex. “Please, tell me.”
     Zachary stopped but refused to look back. “In the hands of your enemy.”
     Raising his rifle, Pax took aim at the vampire. “You will tell Alex where she is!”
     Zachary ignored the hunter and continued on his way.
     “Lower your weapon,” Alex calmly ordered.
     The hunter obeyed, glancing at his boss and then at the vampire heading up the stairs. “You’re just gonna let him leave?”
     “Pax is right,” Jonathan added. “If he knows where to find Evonne, then we should keep him here until he tells us.”
     Alex shook his head. “He won’t tell us… not right now.” He saw the hunters watching him with steady eyes. Alex could take no more of their stares—their judgments. “Back to work. I want all of this cleaned up by sunset.”