Page 5 of The Wentworth Vampire

"Okay then, let's go." Marek cut through the gate with his sword as if it were made of butter, and they rushed inside. As predicted, guards flowed out of the house and the yard, and the battle was on.

The Cyprians cut a path for Pascal to the garage, and he took it. The guards were only effective because of their number and not for their skill. It was odd that such an organization would employ cutting-edge magics but skimp on the security. Perhaps they believed numbers would balance the ineptitude.

Pascal made it into the garage, which was massive and empty apart from another rush of guards whom Pascal managed to dispatch with help from Thayer. The sword of the Cyprians was something to behold. It had a power that was both physical and sacred and went beyond mere destruction of evil. It erased it upon contact, leaving only light in its wake. It was beautiful.

Pascal found the door and quickly busted it open and ran down the narrow stairs to the basement. At the base was a steel door, locked and secured. He pulled out the black wand; he didn't use it often due to the darkness attached to it, but this was an emergency, and he had to get to Mateo. With a sweep of his hand, the door disappeared.

The room was bright, unnaturally bright, and painful. Across from him on the bed was seated a man dressed in what looked like scrubs, cotton bottoms, and a cotton tunic, no shoes, and his head was shaved. The man opened his eyes and looked at him, and gradually life returned, exploding in the depth of those light gray eyes. “You’re here.” The voice was rough and low, and the lips tried to form a smile. “I knew you’d come.”

Pascal rushed to his side and helped him to his feet. “I’m here, I got you, Mateo." He said and tucked Mateo under his arm, holding him close, and ran from the room back up thestairs and out into the garage. There, they were met by Marek and Thayer, who flanked them on either side.

"Time to go," Marek stated, and then in the next second, they were standing in the medical wing on the basement level of the Hadden Center downtown Pittsburgh. The trip was swift and dizzying.

"Thanks," Pascal said and hustled Mateo over to a chair to sit down. Thayer and Marek excused themselves and left to inform Teo and the Master, while Pascal remained at Mateo's side. They seemed to know that there was something between Pascal and Mateo. They didn't say anything, but their actions spoke louder than words. They left them alone, giving him several minutes before the rest of the world would be barging in.

“My name is Pascal Lacrosse. I'm a member of the Hadden Coven security. I'm so glad to meet you." He reached out his hand to the man who was staring at him with those eyes that searched and so effortlessly pierced his soul.

“My name is Mateo Wentworth of the Wentworth Coven, and you are my beloved." He said it with force and meaning, and Pascal felt his body tremble with the meaning that was behind that word and that declaration.

Mateo took his hand and pulled Pascal towards him. Pascal went easily, overtaken by the majesty of this amazing man. Everything he’d been through, and still he looked at Pascal with eyes filled with hope and promise.

“I recognized that you were special when I caught your scent at the abandoned building in the lowlands. I was able to see your path and follow, which is not my usual gift, but with you it was easy and clear.” Pascal took another chair and pulled it over, sitting down beside him and taking his hand in both of his.

“I knew you as my own when I arrived at the gates to that mansion, and I knew that you were inside. I felt you reaching for me, and nothing was going to stop me from getting to you." Pascal was absolutely stunned by the fact that this man was his beloved. He recognized his scent for what it was and what it meant at the mansion; he felt the burn of desire and the formation of their connection.

Mateo was the heir to the Wentworth Coven, and the irony was not lost on him. His home coven and the Wentworth Coven, although existing mere miles apart, were at odds his entire existence. The Masters fought over everything, no matter how small and inconsequential. The two covens did not mix. Rodrick Wentworth saw himself as elite royalty and saw the Revere Coven as beneath him and his concerns.

Pascal's Master was not a nice or good man, but he wasn't inherently evil like Wentworth, so there was that. They both sought power and influence, but Wentworth had more money and a larger business presence, so the Revere Coven lost out at every turn. That did not stop his Master from constantly pushing and making life for the members of the Coven ever worse due to the conflict.

"I know what you are thinking, and please don't," Mateo stated forcefully. His eyes held Pascals with a pleading element that called out to Pascal. "I know who you are, Pascal. You are a recent member of the Hadden Coven, and previously you were a member of the Revere Coven in Maryland.”

“How do you know this? We have never met.” Pascal was wondering if his beloved had psychic skills.

“I lived my life as a soldier in my father’s army until magic took over his life and he saw us all as expendable. During my time as a soldier, I became familiar with all possible enemies,including those at the Revere Coven.” Pascal understood where he was heading with his explanation and just waited. He held Mateo’s hand tightly and listened.

“I saw your picture, it was among the group of Revere assassins' photos that surveillance sent us. I thought you were gorgeous and wished that I could meet you somehow outside of our jobs and restrictions. I didn’t know then what I know today, but I kept that picture." He smiled sheepishly, and Pascal responded in kind. Mateo pulled Pascal closer and kissed him softly on the lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He laughed.

Pascal was again stunned by the outcome of this day, so much so that what could have been so messy was turning out so perfect. “How do you feel? What did they do to you? How can I help you?” Pascal was pained to hear what happened, but he needed to know in order to be of any help to his precious beloved.

Mateo explained the confrontation with his father and his second before being transported to a dusty cage somewhere many miles away. “I don’t think my father had a handle on his magics. He said he was sending me to hell, but I landed somewhere on the outskirts of Pittsburgh.”

"He sent you to the lowlands, a dark and unpleasant section of Pittsburgh. The magics in this area have been squashed many times, but they continually rise up again. The Master has cleansed all of the city except for the lowlands, which resist purification.” Pascal dropped his head and placed his cheek against Mateo’s hand briefly.

“I was there for a long time. Others were with me, humans, they were treated horribly." Mateo looked agitated and angry at the memory.

“You were treated horribly as well.” Pascal reminded.

“I was stronger than they were.”

"Three survived," Pascal told him.

“They were stripped of their will through domination and manipulation spells. They tried the same with me, but a vampire’s will is not easy to break." He glanced down at their hands clasped together, channeling support between them. “They primarily used physical torture on me. They thought it would destroy me somehow, but they clearly had no understanding of vampires.”

“Were your captors human?” Pascal asked.

“The casters were human, but all their muscle were shifters of varying species. The one who bought me and took me to the place where you found me was a shifter species that I could not identify, plus something else."

“Something else?” Pascal prompted when Mateo paused.

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