Chapter 12

    The reason why so many things seemed to fall apart at once for the clan was a lack of history. It was really a splinter group that broke off from the Angstrym clan. Known, but unchecked. Growing pains according to those who only watched, but kept their distance. The grey man only watched, only know as a ghost to most. One of his agreements with Angstrym was his secrecy, and the other was a specific number. The number was broken and reported back to the grey man. Angstrym watched his decades of work slaughtered in only a few nights by a remorseless myth.
    The reason why Ryn had told Katrina to gather her friends and flee to Wilkins Lake was because there was no more head to their clan. Angstrym preached the ways of history, that vampires followed vampire law in honour. Yet, soon as his four closest guards were  dead, he ran. It took only seeing one of his guards torn limb from limb and disemboweled then used for food. For all his posturing, thinking of life in terms of eternity, that moment he felt like the desk bound copy editor he was all those years ago.
    If Angstrym only kept his numbers right, who knew how long they would have lasted. They went over the agreed number of Kin. That number was well known to the grey man, Angstrym and his guard, and a small contingent of humans who kept the peace in a small area of British Columbia. They only found out that the number had been broken when there were reports of vampires trying to get into their safe zone.
    The safe zone was put in place thousands of years before. How it actually worked was only known to those were in charge of its upkeep. Those were also the ones who kept track of who went in and out. It wasn't a perfect system, but vampires knew that they weren't welcome. They could ask to get in, but they would be watched. If they did anything to break their agreements, they would be dealt with. Quick and efficient was the rule for the members of Broken Hand. Of the things they had to deal with, vampires were more of a nuisance and anything else. The few centuries of vampires they had to deal with was only a minor footnote.

    The structure of Broken Hand was a constant. There was always an elder at the top of it. Making decisions that could be questioned by the eight different clan leaders. The Broken Hand found it funny that they called themselves 'clan', it could be argued that they were the first, but the vampires didn't know their history. Of the eight leaders, one was always considered for the position of leadership. Through their whole lives, they would only know their duty to their people and the land.
    The next in line for the elder position wasn't anywhere near being an elder. She got a lot of ribbing for it, but her decisions were never questioned. In a lot of ways, she was already in charge, but she always made sure to confirm the big decisions. The one before her was a small one. She had to give it a little thought, the last time she let a vampire into the area wasn't pleasant. She had to scoop up the vampire parts herself and dispose of them.
    The woman was nearing forty years old. Still possessed of a lot of the charms that made men want to dance for her. It was her eyes though, a set of plain brown eyes that simmered when angry. She grew up with a mother who laid down the rules, work then play. A father, who was the elder in charge of Broken Hand, that liked to play then play some more. The mother named the baby, much to the chagrin of the father, Gertrude. Her mother thought that having a name with character would make her see the world as it really was.
    She lived with that name for less than eight of those thirty-nine years. She just stopped answering to Gertrude, Gert, Trudy, and asked everybody to just call her 'G' as in the letter. Her mother, who's temper and tenacity was at the same level as a screaming seven year old girl's, kept at the same argument for years. All the time, her dad would be silently chuckling in his chair until they both turned on him. He would calm them down, show them what was most important, they would all be laughing in a few minutes.


    “Look at me. At my eyes.” G was staring at a man who was tattered from head to toe. He must have travelled through the trees at speed. He looked into G's eyes.
    “What's your name.” G didn't break contact with his eyes.
    “Derrik.” The vampire didn't want to move, he was told that he would have to make a deal to get by. He was instructed to do what was needed and he would be taking his life in his hands to treat these people with anything less than respect.
    “If that's what you want to go by, fine, but you know the rules. For your kind, there is no second chance. You'll be followed and the second you put your foot out of line, we will kill you.” G kept staring into his eyes.
    Derrik shrugged. He had a face that always seemed to welcome this kind of treatment. Long and timid, eyebrows stuck in worried mode. Of course, it wasn't how he felt, just the way he always looked.
    “Don't you shrug at me, give me your hand.” G held hers out.
    Derrick put his hand into hers, a split second later, there was a deep cut across his fingers. He pulled his hand back, just a few minutes earlier, he would have felt something trying to cut and been able to pull his hand away then decide what to do. He flexed his fingers and watched the wound heal. He still had the vampire regeneration, but he had no idea what just happened.
    “You're taking your own cursed life in your hands here, we would just as soon kill you where you stand, but you said you had a message for somebody and only you could deliver it. We could deliver it for you, but you already said that you had to be the one to deliver it first hand.” G was standing with her arms crossed.
    “Yes.” Derrik never felt so powerless in a long time.
    “How long do you need?”
    “Couple days.” Derrik tried to remember how long it was since he last fed.
    “You have four. You'll ride with one of my guys to wherever you need to go. You can't travel the way you are now, it will only make things worse for us if you get picked up by the cops.” G looked over and nodded to someone.
    “Aw, come on, G. Why the hell do I have to babysit?” A tall guy in a hockey sweater dragged his feet as he asked.
    “Because it's your turn in the barrel. You owe me one, remember?”
    Derrik felt so abandoned by everything he knew. Ryn gave him the message and ran east with Mimyr. They weren't blind to their predicament, if the rumours from down south were true. It was only so long before he was going to be dead. It was like he woke up from a dream. Just a few nights before, he was the most powerful being in most rooms he stood in. Now he was on he run from a ghost who could turn him into a paste and humans, who would be food anywhere else, who despised having to look after him. How the hell could any of this clan he was in not know about any of these things? If they did know, why was he just learning of it all?
    Derrik was told to sit in the back of an old car, the guy in the hockey sweater sat behind the wheel and his buddy sat in the passenger seat. They talked like Derrik wasn't even there, even a dog would have gotten some kind of attention. He looked out the window and could see the trees traveling by in slow motion.