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“What’s wrong, William?” Brendon frowned as he stood in the doorway, looking in on his master, staring apparently at nothing. “Master?” he pressed.

A slight frown fleetingly graced Beckett’s lips before he blinked and glanced up from his apparent trance; a superior smile forming slowly on his lips.

“You were miles away,” Brendon added with concern.
“I actually was, my dear, Brendon,” Beckett sighed as he looked up.
“Master?” Brendon frowned in confusion at the words, not knowing quite how to take the statement, little believing that he had meant it literally.
“I was viewing the warehouse through the eyes of Andrea,” he finally explained.
“Really?” Brendon replied, impressed by Beckett’s abilities. “But… That really is miles away! How?”

Beckett smiled as he rose and rounded the desk. His second was keen to learn, but Beckett was equally as keen to restrict his abilities. It was useful, of course, to have a strong lieutenant, but just not too strong. He knew how ambitious Brendon was and strongly suspected that his loyalty ran only to the point that Beckett was able to maintain control, or more accurately, keep control over him. If the day ever dawned that Brendon was capable of gaining the advantage over or even killing his master, well… Well, William couldn’t honestly say with any certainty whether Brendon would take the opportunity. It was not something he intended to put to the test. No, Brendon would now and always be kept very firmly on a long but secure leash.

Mike Carden on the other hand was a different problem altogether. If Brendon was an Alsatian: keen and alert, clever and loyal, Michael was like a mongrel puppy: rough around the edges, excitable and unpredictable. More worrying than anything was his reckless nature. There were times that Beckett found himself thinking that he had to watch the younger vampire a little too closely. In a large coven, it hadn’t been quite so necessary; Michael was never going to reach the heights that Brendon commanded. But in a coven with only two other vampires, Michael was now worryingly senior and Beckett’s concerns were as high as Michael’s ambitions. But now was not the time to dwell on the matter, now was the time to celebrate their control over the hunters, especially as they were unaware of it.

“It’s all going beautifully to plan, my dear Brendon,” Beckett smirked as he leaned back against the desk, stretching out his long legs in front of him, casually placing one foot across the other. “Joseph believes he has seen Andrea, that somehow she has returned to him. Of course, soon, he’ll realise the sheer impossibility of it and he’ll crush himself with fear and doubt over his sanity. And Peter,” he chuckled maliciously. “Well, Peter has fallen for every word Saporta has told him. It’s almost too delicious!”
“You’re serious?” Brendon barely even tried to suppress his laughter. “He really believes that killing Patrick would release him from his addiction.”
“Apparently so,” Beckett nodded with a broad smile.
“And you still want him?” Brendon scowled turning away in distaste. “How could you possibly be impressed by such naivety?”
“Now, now, Brendon,” Beckett folded his arms. “There’s no need for jealousy.”
“Jealous!” Brendon spun around, aghast at the idea only to see the smirk fixed on his master’s face, reducing his reaction to a self-conscious pout. “I’m not jealous,” he added.

Jealousy could all too easily have been his motive. Beckett knew that, even Brendon did, but Beckett’s attitude only served to confirm, even to Brendon, that he had nothing to be jealous over. Perhaps it was his own precarious position with the loss of his home and coven, but Beckett seemed unwilling to give Brendon the opportunity for misunderstanding and was willing to explain himself - To Brendon, it seemed quite out of character, but a welcome change.

“You needn’t worry, my friend, I told you - you’re my second and always will be. Peter? I wanted him for a task, merely for a task and that… well, I’ve stopped imagining that will ever work out. But now, because of me, he’s strong, too strong to have as an enemy. And now, he is… just something to be crushed. But not too quickly, not without suffering. And that… yes, my dear Brendon, is the most important element. Don’t ever forget that.”
“No, Master William,” Brendon replied, slightly confused by Beckett’s speech.
“You made him strong? He fed from you?”
“Yes, Brendon, does that bother you?” Beckett smiled maliciously, knowing which way the conversation was headed.
“Can I?”
“No,” came the sharp reply.
“But… he… Why?”
“Because my intentions for Peter were only ever to use him and then kill him. That is not something I have in mind for you. It was a level of suffering I was prepared to withstand if it achieved my aims.” Beckett’s expression darkened. “And now, he is going to repay me for every second of the terrible draining sensation each time he fed from me.”
“Last time you tried to make him suffer he nearly killed us,” Brendon grumbled, momentarily looking down as he sighed.
“Brendon,” Beckett’s voice sounded harsh and clipped. “Don’t imagine that I won’t punish you for remarks like that. You are my second, not my equal!”

Brendon glanced up to stare at Beckett. There was a time when a comment like that would send Brendon almost grovelling for forgiveness, but now only a staring match existed between the two as they stood in silence, only feet apart.

“Perhaps an equal partnership would be fairer?” Brendon raised an eyebrow, only to lower his gaze at his master’s furious glare.
“Well, I’ll tell you what, Brendon,” Beckett smirked as Brendon sank slowly to his knees gripping his temples, his face contorted in agony. “We’ll consider an equal partnership when you can do this, shall we?”

Falling forward, first to his knees and then to all fours, Brendon barely heard Beckett’s next words.

“When you’re able to apologise for your behaviour, do, and I’ll release you.”
“Mas… Master!” Brendon gasped, unable to say more.
“A full apology, Brendon,” Beckett sighed as he leaned back once more against the desk. “You really must learn how far you’re able to push… but stop beforehand. You know me, Brendon. You know what I’ll take and what I won’t. All this…” Beckett paused as Brendon fell to his side, gasping and writhing. “It’s all so very unnecessary. I’ll leave you to think things over,” Beckett added slyly as he headed for the door.
“William…” Brendon croaked between agonising bursts of pain running behind his eyes.
“I’ll be back later,” Beckett frowned deeply as he looked down disapprovingly at his disobedient second. “For your apology.”
“Master!” Brendon begged to no avail, curling up even further as Beckett turn quickly on his heels and left him alone in the office.

*

Andy frowned; he was tired. In truth he was probably less tired than Joe, but he had seen to that problem already. He didn’t normally approve of such things, but the situation was getting desperate with Joe. He had acted strangely earlier in the evening and several times after that. Finally breaking down, Joe had admitted that he felt he was losing his mind, that Andrea had appeared to him several times that evening and each time, in the blink of an eye she had disappeared. Not, however, before telling him that she blamed him for her death. Joe had been pale, distraught, and so strung out as to be near breaking point. It was then that Andy had done it. Slipping something into a drink had been the easy part, getting him to drink it had been harder. So agitated, Joe had put the glass down with disturbing frequency that Andy was beginning to fell that something was telling him that it was a bad idea. Finally forcing the drink back into Joe’s hand, he had simply insisted that he drink it. He didn’t know if Joe had guessed his intention or not, but he drank the contents dutifully before returning to his room. Andy felt guilty. It was very possibly just delaying the inevitable, but there was at least the possibility that when he woke he might be refreshed enough to think clearly.

Glancing at the Holy Water bottle, Andy frowned, wishing they had managed to get more when they obtained the last batch. What they could really use were gallon jugs of the stuff, they got through so much. Andy liked to drink it too, he imagined that if he drank Holy water, if a vampire ever did get hold of him, that he would at least burn his mouth trying to drink his blood. He laughed at the idea of even bathing in it – it would make a wonderful repellent! The priest was due to arrive soon, and their stocks would be replenished.

The rapping on the outer door came as a surprise to Andy. Looking at his watch it seemed that the priest was nearly thirty minutes early. Walking briskly to the door, Andy quickly checked the cameras beyond the door. In the dim sunshine of the cold late afternoon it was reasonably easy to see the man standing in the doorway, but on checking the other cameras, Andy frowned as he noticed that two of the monitors were blank. Making a mental note to get Patrick to check them when he woke, Andy opened the door.

“Father Nichols?” Andy queried.

Not even receiving an answer, Andy cried out in surprise as two men rolled into view from either side of the doorway and dragged him outside. Stumbling as they pushed him to the ground, Andy landed on his hands and knees before crashing to floor as a baseball bat crashed across his back. Winded and breathless, it was only a matter of moments before a similar blow to the back of his head sent him reeling into unconsciousness.

“What about the other one?” a voice asked.
“I’m not going in there! There’re vampires in there!” another replied.
“It’s daylight, they can’t hurt you!” said the third.
“It’s dark in there!” the other jabbed a finger in the direction of the interior of the warehouse. “I’m not risking it.”
“Huh,” the first man added, now uncertain himself. “Well… there’s a good enough reward for this guy. Let’s go.”

*

Having suffered the agony brought on by his master through the remainder of the evening and the whole of the following day, Brendon couldn’t help feeling that he had to be near the end of his punishment. It had, he thought, been an extreme punishment for a relatively minor offense, but Beckett was proving increasingly unpredictable. When the door opened once more, he immediately imagined it to be Beckett.

“I’m sorry, Master, I really am,” he managed between bursts of excruciating and debilitating pain. “I’ll never question you again.”

Instead of William Beckett’s firm but soft voice, he heard only cackling laughter.

“So, even the perfect and wonderful Brendon gets punished! I had no idea! Do you have any idea how happy that’s made me?”
“Carden!” Brendon growled, humiliated to be found in such a state by his subordinate. “Get out or I’ll kill you!”
“Oh, no, don’t try to take this perfect moment away from me,” Mike grinned. “I’ve waited a long time to see this. In fact, I may take advantage of the situation. I’ve always wondered…”

Stepping forward, Mike extended his fangs and dropped eagerly to his knees.

“Get away from me!” Brendon screamed, exhausted and too much in pain to defend himself.

Laughing almost manically, Mike leaned closer, his fangs piercing the soft skin at the base of Brendon’s neck. Almost immediately, Mike was being propelled at speed towards the far wall, crashing against it violently before being repeatedly pulled forward and pushed back once more. Within moments he hung, bloodied and unconscious, upright only by Beckett’s powers as he stared at him, livid at the vampire’s attack on his favourite.

“What to do?” he spoke calmly as he stared at the errant vampire before allowing him to drop to the floor. “Your call, Brendon, what do you wish?”

Somewhat unsteadily, Brendon pushed himself to his feet before straightening the creases in his clothes. Glaring harshly at Mike, a cold sneer formed on his boyishly handsome face.

“Kill him!”
An equally malicious smile appeared on Beckett’s face. “But of course, Brendon, but perhaps you would like to do it?”
Nodding, Brendon snapped a chair leg with ease and stepped forward. Turning as he approached, he spoke to Beckett. “I want him awake, I want him to see!”
“I am consistently impressed with your passion and capability for cruelty,” Beckett laughed as he, once again, used his powers to raise Mike from the floor and drag him from his unconscious state.

Opening his eyes slowly, Mike Carden was immediately aware that he was unable to move. Hanging limply, and able only to see and speak, he turned his eyes to Beckett.

“Master, I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I shouldn’t have.”
“No,” Brendon stepped forward. “You shouldn’t. And I’m going to show you exactly how much you shouldn’t.”
“What?” Mike asked, suddenly nervous and trying to pull away, to no avail.
Raising the makeshift stake, Brendon offered a sly grin. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, Carden.”
“No!” Mike screamed, terrified. “Master! Please!”

Pausing to allow the full horror of his situation to sink in and to perhaps suggest that it was all just to scare him, Brendon savoured the moment before bringing his arm down sharply, burying the stake deep into Mike’s heart.
Allowing Mike to drop, now lifeless, to the floor, Beckett turned his attention to his cuffs, straightening them with the sleeves of his jacket.
“You know,” Brendon mused, “in many ways, I really do wish vampires turned to dust when you stake them. It would be much more theatrical.”
“And easier to clear away,” Beckett agreed.
Brendon lowered his eyes as he turned back to face his master.
“I am sorry, Master, I should know by now not to question you.”
“And I should trust you more… and, you were right.” Beckett sighed. “Brendon, we will start a new coven, you and I, together.”
“Master?”
“And you will not call me Master any more,” he nodded solemnly. “From now on we are equals and you will be Master Brendon to our fledglings and recruits.”
“William,” Brendon gasped, dropping to one knee and lowering his head. “Thank you!”
“Rise, Brendon,” Beckett shook his head. “That behaviour is not befitting a coven leader. Now, come, I have some good news… something to show you.”