Karizma

Kristopher forced the bile of rage down his throat through his fangs as he observed his night club. Jack had called him back in a state of emergency, claiming that the club had been trashed by some vandals and it needed to be tended to immediately. Kristopher had fought the idea, despised it, actually; leaving Ryleigh alone scared the hell out of him, but she encouraged him to go. He knew that she could take care of herself, but he still hated the idea of leaving her.

Vandalism is too light of a word for this shit, Kristopher thought. His auburn eyes scorched as he clenched his fists. There was no damage to the door or windows themselves, but inside the club was a different story. Broken bottles littered the dance floor and glittered under the sunlight. Shot glasses and clear plastic cups were scattered around the bar, on the bar, in the sink of the bar. Some asshole had even thrown glitter around the bar, which triggered more rage in Kristopher. The glass he could handle, but the glitter would take ten more years just to clean up. His eyes shifted to the walls, graffiti splayed in different colors on each wall, all with the same phrase: Death To The K.

Of fucking course, Kristopher thought with a groan. He was one of the most successful vampires in Vancouver, let alone a vampiric club owner. His clientele was not only human, but varied in the supernatural, primarily the vampiric supernatural. This was a celebration, he thought. When Ryleigh had released her scent with Kristopher, and one minute later masked it again, the rest of the vampiric world assumed that she had been eliminated. Vampires knew that Kristopher was the Karizma Killer, so the celebration of the death of the final Karizma was not only a party in his club, it was a party for him. Since he was not there, his vampiric kin decided to make the most of their celebration and add vandalism to it. They probably thought I’d find this hilarious, he thought bitterly. Animals.

Kristopher sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He slowly made his way up the stairs to the VIP section of his club. He exhaled in relief as he saw that the VIP section had remained untouched, in the pristine condition that he had left it in when he vanished a few days ago. So not complete animals, he thought. They probably thought that he’d find the party carcass below hilarious but knew better than to try and throw a party in his reserved section. He walked back downstairs and made his way over to the DJ table. Please tell me they left you alone, too, he thought. Replacing bottles of alcohol and shot glasses were mere pennies compared to what it would cost to replace an entire DJ table. His hand grazed the records on the table, and he breathed another sigh of relief. Not even a scratch on the records, and no signs of any type of liquid touching the table.

Kristopher turned around and leaned his back against the DJ table, his eyes observing the damage from another angle of the club. He contemplated using his speed to clean the place and be done with it in minutes, but he refrained. He missed Ryleigh deeply, but part of him had been thankful for the distraction. Her constant need to remind him that he was the one to kill her, or someone else will, was beginning to deplete his happiness with her. It became all that they talked about; he understood how serious it was, how real it would be when the time came, but he wanted to at least enjoy the time that they had left rather than focus on why it was limited.

Kristopher crossed the dance floor and entered the storage closet near the bathrooms. He withdrew a broom and dustpan, then made his way over to the bar to start with clearing the glasses and cups. Jack had offered to help him clean the mess, but Kristopher told him not to worry about it. With Kristopher in the wind for the last few days, he knew that Jack could use the stress relief for the time being. I suppose his mind can be at ease knowing that no one actually broke in, Kristopher thought. He grabbed a trash bag from beneath the bar sink and began tossing the plastic cups into it. Not overly comforting knowing that our own customers did this in my absence, but at least it means that no one forced their way in. We should hire security, Kristopher thought with a smirk on his face. Never needed to when I was actually here, no one could pull this shit in my presence.

Kristopher quickly slid his fangs away and jerked his head up as the door to the club opened. The smell of dirt and leaves filled his nose, and he cocked his head curiously. The man before him was a werewolf. The man was slightly shorter than Kristopher, wearing a black tank top with a pair of white basketball shorts. The man raked a hand through his brown hair, then crossed his large arms over his chest as he looked at Kristopher. “Kristopher Knight, I presume,” the man said with a nod, his blue eyes bright as he studied Kristopher.

“I am,” Kristopher nodded. “And you are?” He asked as he set the trash bag on the ground. Among his supernatural clientele, werewolves were the least common. Werewolves and vampires had not been allies for centuries, but in today’s world they had grown civil with each other at the very least. That knowledge with the fact that the club is closed today, and he happened to find me, something is up, Kristopher thought.

“Lukas,” the man nodded. “I thought I’d come see the place. I heard that the vampires did quite the number on this place when that final witch died.”

“A number is putting it mildly,” Kristopher said. “But at least they avoided the overly expensive shit.”

“You don’t think alcohol is expensive?” Lukas quirked.

“Not compared to what they could have done. What can I do for you, Lukas?”

“Funny thing, isn’t it? They threw a party the second that horrible cinnamon scent disappeared from our atmosphere,” Lukas said.

“The war between us and the Karizmas has raging for centuries. I’m not overly surprised that they threw a celebration. I’m rather pissed they did it in my club, but given who I am, it makes sense.”

“Ah, yes, the all famous Karizma Killer,” Lukas commented. “Been killing the K for the last few decades now, am I right?”

“What is your point here?” Kristopher asked with annoyance. The war with the Karizmas had nothing to do with the Lycans; every supernatural entity knew of the Karizmas, but the only threat that they had posed was to the vampires. Werewolves had been spared from the Karizma wrath because they had been allies many centuries ago. Werewolves were protected during the full moon by the Karizmas, while the Karizmas were protected during their ascension from the wolves. With how fast the wolves were slaughtered during Karizma ascension, the alliance quickly dissolved, and the Karizmas were left to fight the war on their own.

“My point is that is rather interesting that you did not return immediately after the Karizma’s scent was extinguished,” Lukas said. “You would think that you of all people would have come back and hosted this party the second it happened, the second that you had that corpse in your possession.” Lukas took a step forward and raised an eyebrow. “But it took the destruction of your precious club to return, not the death of some witch bitch.”

“That is rather asinine to say, coming from a wolf. ‘Some witch bitch’ is an understatement, and you damn well know it,” Kristopher said. “So, what is it you are asking me exactly?” The alliance between the Lycans and the Karizmas had been severed, but a mutual respect for the other remained; after all, it was not the Karizmas’ fault that the Lycans were being slaughtered, and it was not the Lycans’ fault that the Karizmas were being slaughtered. It was just war for one enemy, the Karizmas. Understanding Ryleigh helped Kristopher fully understand why the Lycans were forced out; Ryleigh would rather die herself than have others die for her. To the Lycans, the Karzimas were not some random witches, they were the witches.

“Where is her body?” Lukas asked simply.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Cute,” Lukas smirked. “Her body? Truly, a prize as valuable as hers, you did not just dispose of it or give it your precious Master without displaying it first, either in pictures or in person. I have not even heard of you bragging that the last Karizma had been killed. In fact,” Lukas continued as he stepped toward Kristopher, closing the distance between them. “Other than the leeches that are running their mouths on the street, the news of the Karizma death has been rather quiet. Why is that?”

“I don’t kill and tell,” Kristopher clipped. He grabbed the trash bag and began tossing the plastic cups into it again. He felt his heart rate spike and he immediately began thinking of Ryleigh to calm it. The Lycan was interrogating him, wanting to know exactly what happened to Ryleigh, and he could not answer it. Kristopher’s hearing could detect heart rate changes; Lycans’ hearings could dance to the changes. Kristopher may hear the changes, but the Lycans could be deafened by it entirely.

“That’s just it, my friend,” Lukas whispered. He placed his arms on the bar and leaned forward, his gold eyes finding Kristopher’s auburn ones. “I don’t think you did any killing at all.”

“Really now?” Kristopher growled. He slid his fangs down and released the trash bag from his grasp. “Wolves should know better than to doubt a vampire’s ability to kill.”

“Oh, of that I do not doubt,” Lukas grinned. “My kind knows all too well that you can kill like it is nothing.”

“So, we’re in agreement that I ended the Karizma threat,” Kristopher growled. “What is it to you whether I killed her or not?” Kristopher’s auburn eyes brightened as he studied the wolf before him. In all of his decades as the Karizma Killer, not once had a wolf approached him about it. The Lycans had made peace with the witches’ deaths centuries ago and continued to remain outside of the war ever since. Contrary to their appearances, the Lycans were the most neutral and reserved of the supernatural species. Probably because they have more to lose, Kristopher thought. Vampires and witches appeared human no matter the threat, but wolves could transform into their counterparts if triggered; the world was not ready for the reality of the supernatural. Kristopher was certain that, if the wolves exposed themselves, they would be slaughtered immediately by the humans.

Lukas’ gold eyes brightened. “Because I don’t think you did it,” he purred.

“We established—”

“That I don’t doubt your ability to murder a witch, yes, yes, we did,” Lukas nodded. “But we did not establish whether or not I believe that you murdered this particular witch.”

“Why the hell not?” Kristopher snapped.

“Seriously? You spent decades hunting them, killing them, and you can’t understand why I’m concerned?” Lukas asked. “I understand that her scent was in the air, but, like a flash, it was suddenly gone. Not retreating, not strengthening; gone. Vanished, just like that.”

“Yeah, that’s typically what happens when a Karizma is murdered,” Kristopher said. He was already worried about vampires making the same conclusion that it appears that Lukas was making, but Kristopher was damn determined to squash it. He was not sure what a Lycan wanted with her, but he was going to keep her survival a secret.

“No, it’s not, Kristopher,” Lukas said as he pushed himself away from the bar. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at him curiously, blue eyes replacing the gold ones. Kristopher cocked an eyebrow but followed suit, his brown eyes pushing through the surface. Lukas was telling him that this was not a fight; it was a conversation. “A Karizma’s scent doesn’t just enter the atmosphere and disappear as suddenly as it appears. Even you’re not that fast of a runner to catch her that quickly. Not to mention, it takes minutes for the scent to dissipate after death. You may not notice it lingers, but we do,” Lukas said as he tapped his nose. “Our senses are stronger than yours. I have never smelled a Karizma’s scent vanish so quickly after all of these years, even fighting beside them and watching them die right in front of me.”

Kristopher’s jaw hardened. “What does any of this have to do with the Lycans? You haven’t shown an interest in a Karizma in a very long time.”

“I relate to her, in a manner,” Lukas shrugged. “I ascended to Alpha this year as well.”

“You’re the Lycan Alpha?” Kristopher asked in surprise. “I’ve never met one before.”

“Well, of Canada at least. Don’t be so daft, Kristopher. There’s more than one of us.”

“Again, what does any of this have to do with your kind?”

Lukas sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Kristopher felt his fangs tickle his gums, but he continued to repress them. The Alpha Lycan was the strongest of his pack and could kill his opponent without blinking. Even I wouldn’t survive him, Kristopher thought. There is no need to start a fight with this wolf, but I do need to know what he wants with Ryleigh. Lukas cocked his head suddenly, his eyes distant. He’s listening for something, Kristopher realized. Kristopher’s fangs descended instinctively. If he is waiting for reinforcements, I will damn well be ready. Lukas’ eyes returned to Kristopher and widened in surprise. “Easy, leechey,” Lukas said. “No back up, no one is coming. I wanted to make sure no one was listening before I spoke.”

“What the hell could you be worried about someone hearing?” Kristopher snapped.

Lukas pressed his hands into the bar and leaned forward again, bringing his face inches from Kristopher’s. “She’s not dead, is she?”

“Of course she is,” Kristopher barked instantly. “I killed her myself.”

“Your heart deceives you, leech,” Lukas whispered. “Again, my senses are more advanced than yours.”

“Get out.”

“Kristopher, it’s not what you think—”

“You come into my bar and insult me by claiming that I can’t do my job. Get. Out.”

“No,” Lukas snapped. “You think that I came here because I wanted to talk to the uppity vampire who has made a name of himself killing the one witch that my kind respected? Of fucking course not. There’s more to it than this.”

Kristopher growled and ran a tongue over his fangs. He is not wrong, Kristopher thought. It would take something immense to bring the Alpha into the open, into the presence of a vampire no less. Into the presence of one of the strongest vampires, Kristopher realized. He may only be known as the Karizma Killer but getting close enough to kill one was a skill that no other vampire had been able to accomplish. “I will ask you again, Mr. Knight,” Lukas whispered with a growl. “She is not actually dead, is she? She would have put up a hell of a fight, not succumbed and been murdered without a trace all in the span of sixty seconds.”

Kristopher clenched his hands into fists, his auburn eyes bright once again. “Why?” His deep voice demanded. He could not bring himself to admit her survival to the wolf, not until he knew what the motive behind it was. He would continue to deny it. Lukas cocked his head again to listen, then shook his head and fixated his eyes on Kristopher again. “Still no one,” Lukas whispered. “I want to help her.”

“Why?” Kristopher repeated.

“Because it is about time that one of them was allowed to live. We are in the twenty first century, not the dark ages when this ridiculous war started. I want her to flourish.”

“The Karizmas endanger my entire race—”

“And yet you did not kill her. Why is that?” Lukas asked sharply. “She endangers you so; where is the corpse? Take me to it, and I will not speak to you again.”

Kristopher sighed and took a step back. He rubbed a hand over his face. “The Karizmas endanger my entire race,” he continued. “Allowing one to live is dangerous, and you know it.”

“Not if the Lycan alliance is restored.”

“You can’t be serious,” Kristopher scoffed. “Wolves and witches fighting vampires in the twenty first century? And we thought this shit was bad back in the dark ages.”

“No, no more fighting,” Lukas said as he shook his head. “She would be one of us, your kind would have no claim to her.”

“You want to turn her,” Kristopher realized. “You don’t even know if that would work.”

“You are right, I don’t, but I owe it to her bloodline to try. No more killing, she could live.”

“Vampires would not see it that way, she would still have the Karizma blood in her veins, with or without her magic,” Kristopher said. It was a realization that he had when he spoke to Ryleigh about turning her; turning her would not solve their problems. She may lose her magic, but she would still be a Karizma. She would still be hunted and killed out of principle.

“Unless your kind really is trying to take on an entire pack of werewolves to kill one little witch, what is her alternative? Live in hiding for the rest of her life?” Lukas asked.

“Why do you think she would be hiding?”

“Jesus Christ, she’s going to reveal herself?” Lukas whispered. “That will kill her. Why the hell would she do that?”

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but she’s dead, okay? Just drop it and leave it alone. Leave her in peace,” Kristopher sighed. Ryleigh had already rejected his offer to turn, he knew that she would reject Lukas’ offer as well. Why would she accept? Kristopher thought bitterly. Her turning would endanger an entire Lycan pack, not just one person, and she is willing to reveal herself to save me and her sister. I can only imagine what she would do to save an entire pack.

“She’s…yours, isn’t she?” Lukas whispered.

“Stop.”

“That would make sense, why her scent came and went so quickly—”

“Stop.”

“She revealed herself to you—”

“Stop!”

“And you let her live.”

“Stop fucking talking!” Kristopher snapped.

“You let her live because she’s yours,” Lukas finished. Kristopher slammed his eyes shut as rage and fear burned through his blood. Someone fucking figured it out, he thought. Grayson knew, but Grayson would take the secret to his grave unless the Master confronted him about it. Only Grayson knew. And now a fucking wolf does, too. And not just any wolf, the Alpha wolf. Kristopher opened his eyes, his fear and anger burning his auburn eyes so brightly that he could feel the heat radiate across his skin.

“What. The fuck. Do you want?” Kristopher snarled.

“Her.”

“No.”

“Kristopher, think for a second,” Lukas said. “Your kind would not challenge an entire Lycan pack. Even your Master cannot be that naïve. She would be safe; she would be alive.”

“What do you want with her?” Kristopher snapped. “This is not out of the kindness of your heart. Not after centuries, not after the alliance between your kind and hers was severed.”

“The alliance was severed because my ancestors feared my kind’s extinction because of yours.”

“And you don’t?”

“Of course I do, but I’m sure that my fear is nothing compared to hers.”

“She has no fear for her life,” Kristopher said.

“No, she fears yours,” Lukas replied. “You were the one sent to kill her, and you failed your mission. Even us wolves know that you do not disrespect your leader without consequences. Look,” Lukas sighed. “Do I want something from her? Yes, her power, her guaranteed protection. My pack taking her in is obviously a huge target and risk to us. I would need her assurance that she would fight for us, fight with us. If she’s anything like her ancestors, she will give that without hesitation.”

“In exchange, the most powerful being on the planet would be in your pocket,” Kristopher said. “Forever in your debt for her life, to do your bidding.”

“Basically, yes. I know how it sounds, but what choice does she have?”

Kristopher clenched his jaw and studied the Alpha before him. The wolf’s heartbeat did not so much as flicker during their entire exchange; if he was lying, he was damn good at controlling his heartbeat to hide it. She would be alive, but forever tied to the Lycans, Kristopher thought. She would be alive, but would she really be free? Would they use her as an assassin, someone to do their dirty work when they could not? Would they allow her to truly live freely, just a normal Lycan in the world? “How do I know that I can trust you, that this isn’t a trick?” Kristopher asked.

“I don’t need you to trust me, this isn’t your decision,” Lukas stated. “It’s hers.”