A vampire's Choice

As the sun set two days later, the packhouse clung with silence and heartache. Returning back from their failed mission, Roland headed straight to the basement and faced the beast that slaughtered his family and countless other innocents. With the weight of the failure and the taunts of the chained man, he exploded, slaying the beast as he held a smile on his face. Afterward, Roland broke down covered in blood, for he finally avenged his mother, father, and little sister, but glaring at his blood-soaked hands, regret engulfed him. Rugby had been nowhere near the act but welcomed him with open arms as he slumped into their bedroom, agreeing with his act, for the monster could not hurt anyone else anymore.

Mark and Vanessa chose a stroll around the house as nighttime hid the reality. They failed again and, lost a friend and companion. Vanessa silently cried for the suffering of her closest ally, unable to imagine the deep pain and anguish Roger must be feeling. To lose one's mate is grueling, but twice by one own hand must be deafening. Arms wrapped around each other in the clearing, they made a promise to each other. Whatever comes, they will face it together, even if it leads to death, for their lives are negligible considering the world's fate hangs in the balance.

Using the last of her powers, Sarah teleported back to the coven, carrying the devastating news of their loss and what is to come. As the witches sprung into action, some contacted the nearby covens to inform them, as others scried the earth to seek a source of dark magic, hoping to find Deimos to bring him down. They failed, for his power is beyond their imagination.

Nix retreated into herself, vanishing from sight as she deals with the aftermath of seeing the man she once loved. The man who had promised to always be there for her but had changed the second things did not go his way. Glancing down at the vast blue ocean from the cliff, Nix replayed the last scene from her human life. A promise she had given and one she had taken replayed over in her mind, the words carved into her mind. For her actions had led to a secret only she knows, one involving Deimos and one he could never discover, for it would lead to the world burning for millennia.

Roger was dead inside as he walked into his room, barely sparing a glance at the torn bed, destroyed in a fit of rage. The pain he had felt after losing Rebecca was manageable at the time, but compared to losing Lisa, he was dying. If only he were not a coward, he would have ended his own life by now, but every time he stares at his reflection in the mirror, she pops up. The familiar blue and green eyes watch him lifelessly, his gaze dead, reflecting his inner turmoil. For hours he had sat frozen as he wondered and speculated as to why he had acquired Lisa's unique trade, but it came back empty. Smashing an empty vase against the wall, Roger let out a bellowing roar as anguish gripped his heart, tearing him to pieces alive. Sinking to the ground, he dropped his head between his knees while cradling his legs, tears streaming down his face, wetting his pants. Hours or even days passed, he lost count, but as the tears stopped, he slowly lifted his head, dragging a deep breath, enjoying just a moment of the coldness inside his chest. Because he killed Lisa, he had received something he had craved for the longest time, his humanity. But he would gladly give it back just to hold her in his arms, even for a second. Ignoring his protesting muscles, Roger stood up, moving to the bathroom. Flipping on the shower mindlessly, not caring if it was hot or cold water, he undressed, frozen on the spot as he replayed her funeral.

The gathering was small, with the same members present at her death, now grouped around the casket, holding hands while plodding away escaping tears. The only absence was Nix, but Roger was glad she was not there, for he would have most certainly slain her in another episode of rage. With overnight shipping, Micheal had sent Sam's ashes at Roger's request, his parting gift to his mate. For now, she would not be alone in the afterlife, accompanied by the only one she loved. Her love for Roger could not have been real, for he had killed her, watched as her blood fled her body and onto his hands. Everyone remained quiet as the dark wood coffin lowered into the ground, not a dry eye around, except for Roger. As the last clump of dirt scattered over the fresh hole in Roland's graveyard, Roger stole a glance at the group. No one dared look at him as he observed them all while wondering about what is to come. Deep down, he did not care if the world ended since he had nothing to live for, but they did.

"You will forever be remembered," whispered Vanessa as Mark tightened his hold on her shoulder.

"An angel went too soon." joined Ruby, both hands cradling her bump while Roland stood next to her, his head dropped.

Turning away, Roger began to leave, not wanting to face them as they probably judged him for what he had done.

"Roger, wait."

Stopping in his track, Roger kept his back to the speaker, waiting for the rest.

"I am sorry for your loss, but just know that it was not your fault," said Mark.

Roger twirled around to glare at the wolf with anger on his face, his hands fisted by his sides. "Don't lie to me. I was there. The blood on my hands proved otherwise."

Mark slightly stepped back as he noticed the fury on the vampire's features, letting go of Vanessa to raise his hands in defense. "We were all there. We know what we saw, and it is not that. You were coerced into it by a powerful and deadly God."

"He is right," began Roland. "Deimos is far greater than we could have predicted. Nothing could have stopped him."

"Then why did we even try?" asked Roger, uncurling his fists as regret settled in. Their sympathetic stares softened him, knowing they were not the cause for his anger; they were only trying to help.

"What has happened was a tragedy, but it is also a reminder of what is ahead. More lives will be lost unless we act now." Sarah stepped in.

"But what can we do against a God. Twice now, we have tried and failed. We are only a group of werewolves, witches, and a vampire against a God," wondered Vanessa.

While speaking, the group moved away from the grave, passing Roger slowly. As Roland moved next to him, a firm hand touched his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"I wished he had killed me as well," said Roger, sparing a final glance at Lisa's resting place before looking up at the Alpha. "Why didn't he kill us in that cave?"

Roland slowly guided Roger away by gently nudging his back towards the house. Making their way back, Roland wondered the same thing. An entity as powerful as Deimos could have easily killed them, but yet, he did not. Why? He wondered.

"That I do not know. He is a master schemer, and maybe we are a part of a bigger picture in his eyes," replied Roland.

"That can't be good."

As the house came into view, the two men strode in silence while their brains worked overtime at the predicament. Parting ways, Roger was left alone to his feelings, and he had acted upon them.

Back to reality, the room was steamed up from the hot water, a cloud forming around his face. Changing his mind and turning off the faucet, Roger instead moved to the mirror, wiping away the mist to reveal himself. Locking eyes with himself, a piece of his heart recovered as he gazed into her eyes, a part of his mate always with him, and he did not care why it had happened, just glad it was. With the water off, the steam dissipated as droplets of water ran down the mirror. Wiping away the obstruction of his view, Roger froze, blinking vigorously to make sure he sees correctly. The tanned hand touching the cold surface was different in the reflection. It was a smaller hand, with paler skin leading to a more petite form.

"Lisa," whispered Roger as their gaze clashed in the reflection.

A smile lit her familiar face as her eyes shone. "Yes."

"How... Why...?" Roger's mouth dropped open as her sweet voice replied while frozen in shock.

"I don't know," replied Lisa.

Shooting out his other hand, Roger placed them both on the mirror as he leaned in, Lisa's reflection doing the same.

"But you are dead."

"I know, but she saved me."

Tilting his head, Roger asked. “Who?"

"Rebecca."

The shock of hearing his first mate's name forced Roger's hand to his side as he stepped back slightly. "How could she have saved you?"

Lisa moved forward, placing a hand flat against the invisible barrier. "She took control of my body just as the knife stabbed me. I was forced to the back while she accepted the death. I watched her die, felt her pain, not just from the physical wound, but from the knowledge that you love me and not her. She sacrificed herself for you so that you may finally be with your true mate. Me."

"I... but...you," muttered Roger, his mind going into overdrive from the revelation.

"Sshh, my love." Lisa inched closer, her face squashing against the barrier of the mirror. "Please forgive yourself for what happened because I do."

"But, if you are alive, why aren't you here?"

Regret played on Lisa's face as she stepped back, arms dropping to the side. "I am sorry, my love. I need to go for a while."

"Where?" Roger yelled. "Please come back to me. I need you."

A slight smile curved Lisa's mouth, her brows pulling together as sorrow gripped her. "There is a power within me, one I do not understand with energy far greater than you can imagine. I need to learn to control it and also find out what I am.” Glancing over her shoulder, Lisa quickly looked back at Roger. "I need to go but know that we will be together again. Soon."

"Wait. NO." Roger shot forward as he jumped, crashing into the mirror. Shaking off the impact, he quickly looked at the reflection, disappointed when his own image stared back. Resting his forehead against the glass and closing his eyes, Roger replayed her vision, watching each detail from her features. This could not be happening. She is real and not dead, but if her body is buried deep in the ground, how is she moving around. Opening his eyes and hoping to see her, Roger reluctantly stepped back, angered to see himself. Grabbing his discarded clothes, Roger dressed before entering the bedroom. Ignoring the mess as he packed, Roger retrieved his phone from the side table, swiping past the missed calls and messages. Pressing the button, the phone rang once before a familiar voice answered.

"Sir, how may I be of service?" asked Micheal.

Zipping up the back, Roger stood straight, gazing out the window to watch as the sun began to rise, a signal for a new day filled with hope.

"I need the plane readied in an hour," replied Roger.

"And where is the destination, sir?"

"I am going to bring my mate back."