The Last Heir of the Forbidden Family

A Deal In The Dark

Chapter 5: A Deal in the Dark

Dorian stared at the map on the wall, the red circles blurring into stains that looked far too much like dried blood. The weight of the photograph in his hand—the only proof that his life wasn't a total fabrication—felt heavier than the warehouse crates he hauled for ten dollars an hour.

"So, they’re all dead," Dorian said, his voice barely a tremor. "My parents. The Keepers. Everyone like me. And the guy who just knelt in my kitchen is the one who signed the warrant?"

"Life’s a bitch like that, kid," Kenji replied, stubbing out his cigarette on a metal tray. "They didn't just kill them. They erased them. But you’re the glitch in their perfect little world. You’re the ghost they couldn't bury."

"I don't feel like a ghost. I feel like a target," Dorian muttered. He looked at his palms, the golden veins flickering with a dull, resentful light. "How long do we have before they—"

A sharp, rhythmic tapping on the heavy steel garage door cut him off. It wasn't the frantic pounding of a monster; it was the polite, deliberate knock of a guest who knew they were being watched.

"Speak of the devil," Kenji hissed, his hand moving to the grip of the heavy pistol at his hip. "Stay behind the desk, Dorian. Don't move unless I tell you to run."

"Kenji, don't be so dramatic," a voice called out from the other side of the steel. It was muffled, but the melody of it was unmistakable. "The sage spray was a nice touch, by the way. My sinuses haven't been this clear in a century."

Kenji didn't lower the gun. "Go away, Seraphine. I’ve got enough silver in this room to turn you into a very expensive paperweight."

"Oh, I’m sure you do," Seraphine replied. The sound of a lock clicking echoed through the garage, despite the door being bolted from the inside. The heavy rollers groaned as the door slid upward just a few inches—enough for her to slide underneath with fluid, impossible grace.

She stood up, dusting off her leather sleeves, her violet eyes scanning the room until they landed on Dorian. She didn't look like she wanted to kill him. She looked like she was evaluating a rare piece of art.

"You really should get a better security system, Hunter," she said, ignoring the barrel of Kenji’s gun pointed at her forehead. "Your wards are ancient. I could smell the 'dead man's sage' from three blocks away. You might as well have put up a neon sign saying 'Ardent Here.'"

"One more step and I’ll see if your brains look as pretty as your face," Kenji growled.

"Kenji, stop," Dorian said, stepping out from behind the desk. His heart was hammering, but the cold anger from the photograph was still chilling his blood. "Let her talk. I want to hear what the daughter of a murderer has to say."

Seraphine’s expression softened, though a tiny, sharp smile remained. "Murderer? That’s such a narrow word, Dorian. My father is a politician. In our world, those are often the same thing, but context matters."

"Context?" Dorian snapped. "The context is my parents are dead and your dad is the one who did it! What else is there to know?"

"A lot, actually," she said, stepping closer. Kenji’s finger tightened on the trigger, but she didn't even glance at him. "The Culling wasn't just a whim. It was a war. Your ancestors weren't exactly benevolent saints, Dorian. They were jailers. They kept us in the dirt for millennia. But my father... he regrets the necessity of what happened to your family. Truly."

"He looked real regretful while he was trying to figure out how to put a leash on me," Dorian said.

"He wants to protect you," Seraphine countered, her voice dropping to a persuasive, silky hum. "Think about it. You’re currently hiding in a damp garage with a man whose only plan is to use you as a 'key' to burn things down. How long until the Malphas find you? They don't want to talk, Dorian. They want to harvest you. They want to turn your marrow into a battery for their Shadow Walkers."

"And you don't?" Kenji spat. "You just want him to move into the Voss mansion so you can play 'Happy Families' until he’s old enough to breed more batteries for you?"

Seraphine’s eyes flashed a dangerous purple. "I’m offering him a Contract of Protection. It’s an ancient rite. It would legally place him under the House of Voss. No one—not the Malphas, not the Fenris, not even the Council—would be allowed to touch a hair on his head."

"And what do I have to do in return?" Dorian asked, his eyes narrowing. "Let me guess. It involves a 'blood-marriage' or some other weird vampire stuff?"

"It’s a political alliance, Dorian," she said, moving even closer, her scent—something like rain and expensive jasmine—filling his senses. "Yes, it eventually leads to a union of bloodlines. It would make you the most powerful man in the city. You wouldn't be a warehouse worker anymore. You’d be a King. A protected, sovereign King."

"He’d be a prisoner in a gold-plated cage," Kenji interrupted. "Dorian, don't listen to her. She’s a siren. She’ll tell you exactly what you want to hear until the ink on that contract is dry."

"And what are you offering, Kenji?" Seraphine turned to him, her lip curling. "A life on the run? Sleeping in dirt? Using his power to kill people until his soul is as black as yours? You’re just a different kind of jailer."

"I’m the guy who isn't trying to marry him for his DNA!" Kenji yelled.

"Stop it!"

The shout didn't just come from Dorian’s lungs. It radiated from his center. The air in the garage suddenly felt heavy, like they were all standing at the bottom of a deep pool. The golden light flared in Dorian’s eyes, and for a split second, both Kenji and Seraphine found their feet glued to the concrete.

"Both of you, just... shut up!" Dorian gasped, his chest heaving. "I am not a prize! I am not a key! I am a person! My name is Dorian Ashford, and I am sick of people deciding my life for me!"

Seraphine blinked, the pressure of his Command making her knees tremble. She looked at him with genuine awe. "You’re learning fast. That was a partial command. You didn't even mean to do it, did you?"

"I meant it," Dorian hissed, the light slowly receding. "Now, get out of here, Seraphine. I’m not signing anything. And Kenji, put the gun down. If I’m the 'King,' then start acting like I’m in charge."

Kenji slowly lowered the pistol, looking a bit sheepish. "Fair enough, kid. But she’s right about one thing. We need to leave. The wards are—"

Kenji stopped mid-sentence. He looked at the monitors on the desk, which were suddenly flickering with static.

"What is it?" Dorian asked, his skin crawling.

"The temperature," Seraphine whispered, her eyes darting to the shadows in the corners of the ceiling. "It just dropped thirty degrees. They’re here."

"Who? The Malphas?" Dorian felt the hair on his arms stand up.

"Worse," Seraphine said, drawing two curved silver daggers from her back. "The Shadow Walkers. The Elite Assassins. They don't use doors, Dorian."

As if on cue, the light in the garage began to fail. The fluorescent tubes overhead hummed and then shattered, one by one, plunging them into a suffocating gloom.

"Dorian, get behind me!" Kenji shouted, pulling a flare from his belt and cracking it.

The red light filled the room, but it didn't push back the shadows. Instead, the shadows seemed to absorb the light. The darkness along the walls began to peel away, taking the shape of tall, spindly figures with elongated limbs and no faces—only jagged, white slits where eyes should be.

"They phase through the physical plane," Seraphine explained, her voice tight with focus. "Normal bullets won't work, Kenji. Use the iron!"

"I know how to do my job!" Kenji snapped, firing his shotgun into the nearest shadow. The iron buckshot whistled through the air, and one of the figures let out a sound like tearing parchment, its form flickering but not dissipating.

"There are too many of them," Dorian whispered, backing toward the center of the room. He could feel the cold now—a bone-deep, soul-sucking chill that made his breath come out in white puffs.

"Dorian, listen to me!" Seraphine yelled over the roar of the shotgun. "The Contract! If you accept my protection now, I can call upon the Voss guard! I can't protect you from a full squad of Walkers alone!"

"Don't do it, Dorian!" Kenji screamed, reloading his weapon with trembling hands. "It’s a trap! They probably sent the Walkers themselves just to force your hand!"

"I didn't send them!" Seraphine hissed, parrying a shadowy blade that appeared out of thin air. "My father wants him alive and whole! These things are built to shred!"

Dorian looked at the figures closing in. They were moving with a sickening, jerky motion, their blades—made of solidified darkness—glistening with a hungry light. One of them lunged, its fingers stretching out like claws, aimed directly at Dorian’s throat.

"I can't... I don't know who to trust!" Dorian yelled, his hands beginning to glow with a frantic, unstable gold.

"Trust your blood!" Seraphine cried out, jumping in front of him and slicing through a Shadow Walker’s arm. The creature shrieked, a sound that felt like needles in Dorian’s brain. "Tell them to stop! Command them!"

"I can't! I don't know how!"

"Just feel it!" Kenji yelled, his back against Dorian’s. "Think of your parents! Think of the anger! Give it a target!"

Dorian closed his eyes, the image of the photograph burning in his mind. He felt the cold of the Shadow Walkers, the manipulation of Seraphine, and the desperate pragmatism of Kenji. He felt like a bird being pulled apart by three different predators.

"GET... AWAY!" Dorian roared.

A massive pulse of golden energy exploded from his chest, far more powerful than any before. It hit the garage walls like a physical shockwave, blowing out the remaining windows and sending the Shadow Walkers tumbling back into the darkness. For a second, the room was as bright as noon.

But the shadows didn't disappear. They simply waited.

As the light faded, the figures began to reform, their jagged white eyes fixed on Dorian with a new, terrifying intensity. They weren't afraid. They were hungry.

One of them stepped out of the wall right behind Dorian, its blade already mid-swing.

"Dorian, move!" Kenji screamed.

But Dorian was too slow. The blade of darkness was inches from his neck, the cold already numbing his skin, when the world seemed to freeze.

"Well, well," a new, gravelly voice echoed from the darkest corner of the garage. "Is this the little spark that’s been causing all the trouble? He looks... delicious."

The Shadow Walker’s blade stopped, vibrating against the air as if it had hit an invisible wall. A man stepped out of the gloom, wearing a tattered velvet coat and carrying a cane topped with a human skull.

"The Malphas Elder," Seraphine whispered, her face going deathly pale. "We’re out of time."

Dorian looked at the new arrival, then at the blades at his throat, and realized that

his night of being a 'nobody' was truly, finally over. He was no longer just a warehouse worker. He was the main course.