Noir
Chapter 90

Back at the agency, we discussed our replaceings. While we had been inside the mansion, Aidan, Sterling, Cotton, and Becca had tried holding what vampire guards they could at bay, but out-trained and outnumbered, and in no way prepared to face such an elite deadly force, they had been forced to retreat to safer ground. The guards had not given chase, instead had stayed within the fortress grounds in protection of any other threat toward the fortress and its inhabitants. Tensions grew as Eton and I described the inside of the mansion and the overwhelming power of the Elders, filling the room with the same type of energy that had once fueled the vampire wars in New Orleans a mix of determination and dread.

Eton and Thorin gave each other a knowing look and I couldn't help but wonder what was going on in their heads. Vowing to ask Eton later, I turned my attention back to the others in the room.

The room was lit with candles as the supply for the oil needed for the lamps was running low and the generator was used sparingly for emergencies, but the soft glow was enough to cast shadows across the weary faces of those within the room. Aiden's left arm was wrapped in a makeshift bandage, the fabric stained dark with blood. His eyes were filled with a mix of pain and anger, the kind that comes from being unable to protect someone you care about. Sterling's lip was split, and a bruise was already forming around his eye. His knuckles were raw, a testament to the fierce battle he had no doubt fought.

Cotton, the usually jovial member of the team, had a stern look etched into his features. His shirt was ripped, revealing a deep gash across his chest that was already healing, a sign of his fae heritage. The tension in the room was palpable, each of us nursing both our physical and emotional wounds. Becca, the most unscathed of us all, sat quietly in the corner, her eyes darting to the map and back to the door, as if willing us to replace another way.

I grew solemn as I took in the injuries of my friends. They had met us out of the fortress, their injuries immediately apparent: a reminder of the gravity of our situation. This was the price of war, of the pain and sacrifice that lay ahead. I knew we were all feeling the weight of our failure, but we couldn't let it consume us.

Thorin cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "We're going to need a new plan," he said, his voice firm. "We can't just storm the fortress again. We'll need a way to take out the guards."

Eton nodded, his gaze sharp as he peered at Thorin. "And we'll need to replace out more about our heritage. I think Noir left a hell of a lot out," he added. "It's clear we're more than just the run of the meal vampire race."

The room fell silent again, each of us lost in our thoughts, our eyes scanning the injuries of our comrades. The candlelight danced across the blood-soaked bandages and bruised skin, painting a grim tableau of the battle we had barely survived. Sterling's bruised and swollen knuckles spoke of his desperate fight against the fortress's guards, each blow a silent shout of his determination to save Lyra. Aiden's arm, wrapped tightly in the crimson-stained cloth, told a tale of his fierce defense, his body a canvas of pain and valor. Becca's furrowed brow and clenched jaw revealed the effort she had put into maintaining the illusion of our safety, her eyes speaking volumes of the strain she was under. Cotton, the half-elf, winced as he touched the still-healing gash on his chest, the fabric of his shirt sticking to the congealed blood. His fae resilience was evident in the way the wound was already closing, but the pain was etched into his expression. His eyes held a quiet anger, a promise that he would not let Lyra be lost to the darkness without a fight.

Thorin's own injuries were not as visible, but the weariness in his eyes spoke volumes. His jaw was clenched tight, the tension in his shoulders a silent testament to the burden he carried.

"We need to train," I said, my voice steady. "We need to become the weapon they fear."

Eton looked at me, his skepticism momentarily forgotten. "You think we can do that?"

I met his gaze, the determination in my eyes unyielding. "I know we can," I said firmly. "We're not just a bunch of hunters anymore. We're the last line of defense against whatever the hell Noir and the Elders are planning." The room buzzed with the energy of our newfound purpose. We would become the warriors we needed to be.

"We'll need to gather intel," Thorin said, his eyes scanning the map. "Find out who else might be on our side, who else might know about Noir, the Elders, and their plans."

Aiden spoke up, his voice gruff but resolute. "I'll reach out to some contacts. There are still some of my kind I know from the old days who might have information."

Sterling nodded, flexing his bruised hand. "I'll train. Make sure we're ready for whatever they throw at us."

Cotton's expression grew fierce. "And I'll replace a way to amplify my glamour. Maybe we can use it to our advantage."

Becca looked up from her contemplation of the map, her eyes gleaming with a newfound resolve. "I'll work on new spells, something that might be able to counter whatever they have in store for us."

We had a plan, and with it, a glimmer of hope.

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As the echoes of our footsteps faded down the halls, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in my stomach. The look Eton and Thorin had shared was like a secret code, a silent communication that left me feeling both anxious and curious. I had to know what was going on in their heads, especially now that we were back on more familiar ground.

"What was that look about?" I asked Eton.

He stopped, his hand on the knob of the door to his office, his eyes dark with unspoken thoughts. "It's complicated," he said finally. "Thorin and I have... history with the Elders."

"What kind of history?" I pressed.

Eton took a deep breath, his eyes drifting about the hall. "We are part of their world," he admitted. "We *are* them, Jerr."

"We *are* the Elders," Thorin added, his voice low.

The revelation hit me like a slap in the face. "What?"

Eton nodded gravely. "Our family was slaughtered and the other Elders were banished, but Noir, me, and Thorin were able to escape. Gran raised us, taught us other ways than the ways of a vampire. Noir, *is* the oldest Elder Cyprian, therefore the most powerful vampire ever born. Don't ask, because I don't have all the answers. All I know is that our whole village was cast under a spell, and that each child born afterward within the village was born immortal. Lyra is Noir's mate, and carries the blood of a Cyprian within her veins. Together, they will fulfill the prophecy if we don't somehow stop them."

"But how is that possible?" I whispered, trying to wrap my head around the implications.

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Thorin leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving mine. "It's a long story," he said, "but the short version is that Noir, Lyra, and the other Elders are powerful beyond measure. As are Eton and myself," here Thorin paused, gesturing toward Eton, "but we chose a different path."

"But why?" I demanded, feeling the whispers in my head swell with curiosity. "What makes you so different?"

Eton turned to face me fully, his expression a mix of regret and resignation. "We were born into it, Jerr," he said, "but we didn't choose it. We didn't want the power that comes with being an Elder. The price was too high."

His words were like a piece of a puzzle falling into place, explaining the power I had felt from them a power that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

"What price?" I whispered, the gravity of the situation settling on my shoulders.

"The price of your soul," Thorin said. "The power you feel from us-it's all a part of what we are."

The revelation hit me like a punch to the gut. I had always felt there was something more to the Steel brothers, something that set them apart from the vampires we had faced before. Now I knew.

"We can't just let Lyra become part of that," I said, my voice shaking with determination. "We have to save her."

Eton nodded. "We will," he said firmly. "But we need to be smart about it. We can't just rush in again."

"We need to replace a way to neutralize Noir's power," I said, "without you two becoming like him." Thorin's eyes narrowed. "We're working on it," he said, his voice tight. "But it's not been easy."