The Downfall of Count Abbot [Preview Chapters]

Step Three | Finish The Transformation

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Everything happened so fast. Lawrence didn't have a chance to attempt to run. Snarling wolves emerged from the darkness-engulfed tree line, their bloodthirsty eyes fixed on him as if he was their next meal. If his heart were human, it would be racing in his chest; his limbs went stiff, and his breaths became harder to take as the dread of his imminent slaughter consumed him.

They wouldn't attack him, would they? The wolves knew better than to kill vampires, especially those who belonged to a coven. But Lawrence didn't yet wear the coven's mark—as far as these wolf walkers were concerned, he was alone...and dangerously close to their territory.

He watched as two wolves investigated the corpse of the human he'd just killed. The rest kept their sights on him, examining him from head to toe. They started growling—he knew that meant they were talking to each other—and the longer he stood there, the greater the urge to attempt to escape grew.

And then they started prowling closer.

Their growls became more hostile, and they were closing in on him.

They were going to kill him.

He held out his hands and stepped back—

The wolves snarled defensively and moved nearer.

"I-I don't mean you any harm," Lawrence insisted, trying to work out what to say. "I was just hunting this guy, and I didn't mean to get so close to the forest. I—"

One of the wolves lunged at him.

Lawrence panicked and went to dodge as best he could, but that was when four clouds of dark smoke descended and hit the ground in front of him. Four of Abbot's Acolyte vampires materialized, and General Bronson, who appeared behind him, grabbed Lawrence and pulled him away from the wolf as one of the other vampires used his body to shove the creature away.

"Back the fuck off," one of the Acolytes warned as the wolves snarled and growled, surrounding the wolf who hit the ground after the vampire collided with him.

"Don't try it," another Acolyte warned.

The wolves snarled, and the vampires hissed, and after a few moments of intense glares, the wolves turned around and headed back into the trees.

Bronson then turned Lawrence to face him, holding his shoulders as if he were a child. "What the fuck were you thinking?!" he exclaimed.

Lawrence, still shaken from the confrontation, gawped at the General.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Bronson questioned.

"Wouldn't be the first one," an Acolyte muttered.

"Shut up, Enzo" the General snapped.

Enzo lost his sly smirk. "Sorry, sir."

Bronson sighed heavily and took his hands off Lawrence's shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes shifted to the dead human, and a look of disappointment smothered his pale face. "Yeah...he did it again, huh?" he mumbled.

Lawrence frowned. "What?"

With a shake of his head, the General grasped Lawrence's wrist. "We're going back to the castle. Grant, deal with the body."

Grant, the hazel-haired Acolyte, nodded.

Bronson then dematerialized both himself and Lawrence into black smoke and raced back to the castle. When they landed and rematerialized in the courtyard, the General kept hold of Lawrence and dragged him inside. He silently escorted him through the halls, and every vampire shot Lawrence either a sympathetic stare or a judgemental one—why?