Page 3 of The Wentworth Vampire

The human subjects had been nearly destroyed, and only three remained alive, just barely. Vampires were strong and could withstand considerable abuse, but they were not immortal. Everyone had their limits, including Mateo Wentworth.

He walked back over to the cage that had held Mateo and stared down at it. The scent of anguish hung thick. Beneath the pain and the suffering, Pascal detected another scent. It was light and possessed a level of attractiveness. He couldn’t name what it was, but it filled him with a feeling of urgency.

Mateo was in grave danger, which made the feelings understandable, but Pascal had never experienced this type of heavy emotional draw before. He’d investigated many magical corruptions and offences, but not until now with this man did he detect such a tie of familiarity.

He didn’t know Mateo personally, never met the man, and yet there was something there calling to him to stay alert and to find Mateo Wentworth. It might be due to his familiarity with the Wentworth Coven in general, but the draw seemed more specific than that.

“I noticed the Cyprians taking off.” Det. Dalhousie came up to stand with Pascal.

"Yeah, they have a lead, and hopefully it will take them to Mateo.”

"I saw the men who were taken out of here." Det. Dalhousie began. "They were tortured mentally and physically; it was awful. Those who live are unable to communicate, stuck in a prison of their own minds. No telling if they will ever recover." Pascal was touched by the Detective's concern for these strangers.

“There are methods to unlock the magics keeping them stuck, but it would have to be done in conjunction with a glamour to clear and remove memories that could prove to threaten our kind.” Pascal pondered the techniques for such procedures.

“It would be best to remove all the memories of their capture and abuse. I can’t imagine what they went through, and I can’t imagine living with such memories.” The Detective shuffled his feet and stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat, clearly uncomfortable with what had taken place.

“Say the word and I can take care of it for you.” Pascal offered.

“Thanks, I'll get back with you on that." He smiled, and Pascal nodded. He thought about the humans and their suffering, but his mind would not leave the vampire and what he endured.

"Perhaps Mateo fared better than the humans. As a vampire, he could withstand much more without breaking.” That thought caused a tightening in his gut and an unease that coursed through his system. “Do you know where the Cyprians went?”

“Marek mentioned the South Hills, but that takes in a large area.”

“If you hear anything more about him or the people who did this to him, would you share it with me?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Thanks.”

Pascal sent his report to Josef and then decided to take a walk around the lowlands. He'd never patrolled the area, havingbeen primarily assigned to the Hadden Center security force. He was sent on special assignments a few times because of his particular sensitivity to some obscure forms of the dark arts.

That sensitive awareness, coupled with his assassin skills, made him a force to be reckoned with, according to Master Hadden. The Cyprians could manage most magic issues, but there were obscure factions that could be overlooked.

The Dark Fae, or Unseelie, as they were referred, lived and flourished among some of the darkest codes and conditions. His mother was half Mage and half Dark Fae and had a difficult life being both light and dark, but she managed, and she passed that skill to her son.

Master Hadden had witnessed all of his past and his struggles when he’d touched him after Pascal had lowered his resistance and allowed him in. Pascal wanted Master Hadden to see him for who he was, and Master Hadden saw it all and readily accepted him. It was the start of a new life for Pascal. He was still the same man he always was, but now he wasn't expected or required to stand back and disappear.

The lowlands were aptly titled in Pascal’s opinion. The people were dire and hopeless, and the atmosphere reflected the same. The magics still lingering in some spaces were low-level and common, unlike the strange scent of magic that had been briefly present back at the abandoned building.

That magic was sour and dark. Whoever used it also set a dispersion spell that made it nearly impossible to follow, as it quickly disappeared. They were well-versed in transmutation and psychic alchemy. It was apparent that the practitioners were apprentices and not the Master.

The spells were complex but basic, and the outcomes were elementary. The complexity, if handled with skill, couldhave brought forth functional zombies rather quickly. Torture was not necessary, and there would have been no death. This had been amateur and sloppy.

He thought about what Marek had said before disappearing. He said that they had Mateo’s scent, and they would keep their focus there. Pascal had that scent as well; he was carrying it with him. He had a compulsion deep in his heart to look for this man, and fighting it was not making the feeling go away.

Pascal was heading back to the abandoned building when he received a call from Det. Dalhousie. “The Cyprians are in Upper St. Clair and are believed to be closing in on where Mateo Wentworth is being held.” The Detective told him and then added. "Mateo means something to you, doesn't he?" That threw Pascal for a moment because he'd felt something but didn't imagine anyone else would notice.

"I'm a detective, I'm trained to notice subtleties, and I'm also a nosey cat shifter.” He explained with a chuckle. “I saw how you stayed near the cage and the way you took in the scents. There was a look in your eyes, a look of familiarity.”

“I’ll admit that he seems to be calling to me for some reason, but I’m not exactly clear as to what it means. Right now, I’m getting the impression that he is not in Upper St. Clair but in the Strip District.”

"That's a high-dollar address, very exclusive. I can’t imagine some scumbag magics operating there.”

“I think he is there somewhere.” Pascal couldn’t explain how he knew; it was just there in his mind, something telling him the direction, something pulling on him.

Mateo was drugged once again. He felt the needle penetrate his upper arm, and soon his awareness and his vision began to fade. The man in the chair stood up and walked towards where he lay in the cage. He heard the cage open, and someone grabbed him, and then everything went dark.

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