The Recruit

by Claudia Silva

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  "Jon actually recommended a place," Dylan told her. "I’ve never been there before. It’s Italian, it’s small and private." It gave Rebecca a loving feeling to know Dylan remembered she loved Italian food. "I thought it would be appropriate to the occasion."

  “What occasion?” Rebecca wondered out loud.

  "Well, you're out of the confines of the agency. I think it's worth celebrating, don't you think?"

  The classical music changed in the background, the announcer introduced another ballet piece, Coppelia, which Rebecca recognized instantly.

  “Do you like this music?” Rebecca asked him, realizing they had stopped talking about books and music since her training had taken over her life.

  “Uhm,” Dylan thought, “it’s a ballet, I’m sure.”

  “Coppelia,” she told him.

  Dylan acknowledged the information, but remain quiet. “I’ve never been to a ballet, did I ever tell you that?”

  “You mentioned it.”

  “Maybe we should go… some time.”

  “We should.” But her mind was filled with memories of the shooting range, battle training, and the image of her face with sharp long fangs and red eyes. “In another life, it would have been me you’d go see.” From the corner of her eye, she saw him agree. “I miss dancing,” she confessed.

  To this, Dylan voiced the perfect solution, “Just go to one of the training rooms and dance. It’s not forbidden or anything.”

  Rebecca moaned. “It doesn’t work that way. I mean, it does, but it’s not the same when you’re by yourself all the time. What I would like to do is take a class somewhere.”

  “Why? Don’t you know how to dance already?” Once again it was clear he didn’t know anything about dance.

  “Yes. But I still need someone to tell me what to do. I’m not a choreographer.”

  Dylan nodded. “We can ask around town to see if there’s a ballet school close by if you want. You could go take a class if they offer one. Remember,” he glanced at her, “you are not a prisoner. You can leave the building whenever you want.”

  She understood, she knew all of this. When she became an agent, she would have missions, but she would still have free time to do with as she pleased. She went back to the topic of dance, “Most of the time, classes aren’t offered to adults.”

  Dylan frowned. “Why not? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It makes sense because adults rarely dance. Most classes are for kids or teenagers. After that, if they go into dancing for a living then they go study that. The rest just… drop dance altogether most of the time.”

  Dylan had found that strange, “Didn’t you teach adult classes at your little school?”

  “Well, sometimes. We offered the class once every semester and occasionally we'd have enough ladies registering. Sometimes, no one showed up. Maybe if our town had been bigger, I don’t know.”

  Dylan nodded in acknowledgment and kept looking at the road, which had now turned into a highway.

  After a while, Rebecca continued with the conversation. “Tell me what happens if I do something wrong.”

  “Nothing will go wrong.” Dylan frowned, disregarding her worry.

  “You aren't nervous?” she wondered.

  “Why would I be nervous? Like I said, many people have their transformation in the middle of a hospital and they can manage. You have the advantage of having gotten used to the change in a scent free environment. Don't read too much into this. You'll be fine.”

  “What if my eyes turn color?”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  "If you say so," Rebecca breathed. "But-"

  “It’s just dinner, Becca. Besides, you had to do it one day. Unless you really planned to be a prisoner of that underground building forever. And please consider all those accidental transformations; if they can do it, so can you. I wouldn’t be worried.”

  “All right,” she agreed, trying to be positive.

  It was time for Dylan to take the next exit.

  The town they drove to had to be at least twice as large as her hometown. It still gave her the feeling of being small enough to not have earned a place on the map. She wondered if it did. Dylan drove slowly down the main road while Rebecca studied the people strolling casually outside, enjoying their Friday afternoon. To them, nothing was out of the ordinary, and creatures like them, did not exist. For a second, she wondered if she'd rather be one of them, but she soon shook off the thought. The sun was about to set, but its yellow light still illuminated every building, making the downtown area look warmer than it felt.

  Dylan gave a sharp turn, surprising Rebecca, driving into a gravel parking lot.

  “I thought you said dim lights, few people. This place is crowded!” exclaimed Rebecca when she looked at a huge wooden building with the neon restaurant name sign flashing. People were coming in and out of the place, letting her know it was a busy night in what was the hottest restaurant in town.

  “Jon says it’s worth it,” Dylan said. This, of course, didn’t help at all. Seeing the panicked expression on her face, he added, “Just focus on the right smells.”

  Right smells? Sure, she could do that. Still trying to relax, Rebecca let Dylan find a parking space in silence. When the engine died, Rebecca kept staring at the people walking in and out of the restaurant; it was nothing like the small version she had back home.

  “I’m going to open the door now,” Dylan announced. The plethora of scents came hurrying into the car; Rebecca braced herself leaning back in her seat almost like she was facing a hundred arrows. “Are you all right?” Dylan mocked, pretending not to understand why she was behaving that way.

  She wasn’t all right. The mix of scents was confusing, to say the least. If she concentrated, she could take them apart recognizing every single one of them in isolation. Blood, gas, sweat, garlic, trash, tomatoes, and much more permeated the air. All coming in without stopping.

  Feeling her gums sting, she reminded herself that having long fangs was terribly frowned upon in the human world. As much as the scents distracted her, they didn't control her. More than anything, it was an uncomfortable feeling, and just like her sense of hearing had settled, so had this. Taking a deep breath, she accepted everything she couldn't change and got out of the car.

  She was quiet not because there was nothing to say, but because saying something might break her concentration. The look she had given Dylan had been enough to let him know she was as ready as she would be.

  They walked together, her hands grasping his arm until they reached the restaurant’s main entrance.

  The scents were different inside, perhaps even more pleasant as the scent of food increased in potency.

  “I’ll go put my name on the waiting list,” Dylan said as they were stopped by a crowd inside.

  Nodding, Rebecca moved to sit on a long bench where several men, women, and children were waiting to be seated, too. As she found herself inches away from people, she fixed her eyes on Dylan to try to ignore the blood she could almost taste in her mouth.

  “Hi!” A woman about her age startled her beside her. Rebecca doubted she was talking to her; mostly because she was a stranger in a strange land. “Are you here by yourself?” That question was directed at her. This time, Rebecca could not pretend she hadn’t heard.

  “Uhm, no. My, uhm… boyfriend is right over there,” she pointed at Dylan who was now waiting in line to get their names on the list.

  “First time here?” she asked with a grin. If only this lady would stop talking to her.

  Pursing her lips, Rebecca replied with a dry tone, “Yes. First time.”

  The woman smiled cheerfully. “Not for us, my husband and I come here every Friday.” Rebecca didn’t care and didn’t want to know, but she offered a weak smile, anyway. “We love it,” the woman said. Rebecca nodded slightly, but didn't encourage the stranger to say more. Too bad she didn't need any prompting, “You’re
not from around here, are you?”

  Rebecca shook her head, “No, just visiting.”

  “Oh, really? Where are you from?”

  Nervously turning to face her, Rebecca stared at the woman with too much make-up on with her mouth open. She knew she shouldn’t tell the truth, only she wasn’t used to lying… or pretending to be someone else. The one thing Dylan hadn’t gone over with her was their cover story. “Uhm, well… I’m from… New York.”

  That had felt like a good lie, until the girl frowned, confused. “Funny, you don’t sound like a New Yorker.”

  Rebecca was so bad at lying it was just her luck to be sitting next to a nosy person in the first place. Then she realized that it didn’t really matter if she believed her story or not as long as she didn't figure out what she was. Besides, she had lived in New York at some point in her life, so she was able to answer questions about the city.

  Gathering as much confidence as she could, she elaborated, “Well, I’m not originally from New York, so… maybe that’s why.”

  Her tone must’ve let the woman know she was hiding something.

  She couldn’t see why that would matter to this lady, but she seemed intrigued and determined to learn the truth from a stranger. Rebecca had never understood why there were people who couldn’t stop talking; especially to people they didn’t know.

  “Where did you grow up, then?”

  Not knowing what else to say, Rebecca decided to just tell her the truth.

  “I’ve never heard of that town,” the woman said, a little disappointed.

  “It’s small, but that’s where I grew up,”

  After a few nods, the woman offered her hand. “I’m Laura, by the way.”

  Rebecca stared at the hand for a second before taking it. The woman's skin was soft and warm to the touch. Too warm. It made her wonder if Laura felt her skin too cold. “I’m Rebecca,” she said.

  At that moment, Rebecca noticed a young man waving their way, frantically.

  “I believe that might be your husband,” Rebecca pointed at him.

  Laura turned around and spotted him. “Indeed he is,” she said, “well, very nice meeting you.”

  Relieved to see her go, Rebecca kept watching her until she reached her husband. She saw her put her arms around him as they followed the hostess to their table. Watching them, she began to listen to their conversation.

  “Did you make a new friend?” the husband was saying, his voice a little annoyed. “I've told you to be more private. People are private. They don't like to be answering questions.”

  “Oh, please, what would life be like if we didn’t talk to one another?” Laura replied.

  The husband said something in return, but Rebecca missed it because Dylan, who was now sitting next to her, said, “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

  “I’m not eavesdropping,” Rebecca forgot about the woman and her husband in order to give Dylan her undivided attention. “On the other hand, I think you were listening to me, weren’t you?”

  Dylan chuckled and reached for her hand, “I was just checking on you, that’s all. I guess this is a test in a way.”

  Rebecca sighed, she'd figured as much. “I probably lost a few points there, then. I told her where I was from.”

  “You’re not a secret agent yet,” Dylan said playfully. “Besides, what we care about is how well you control your wild side and you’re doing great.”

  She scoffed. "I remember when I first touched you, you know? I remember thinking how cold you were. There was so much I didn't understand before.” Rebecca then wondered, "Do you think she suspected anything?"

  “I doubt it. Some people have cold hands,” Dylan told her. “Don’t read too much into it. We’re not freezing cold to the touch, just a few degrees lower.”

  Even when she knew vampires had a lower body temperature, she hadn’t given it much thought before. “It’s still a strange thing to be. Colder, I mean.”

  Dylan shook his head. “There are thousands of people like us all over the world, Becca. They live normal lives, remember? Regular people aren’t trying to uncover some dark supernatural secret whenever they meet someone. To them, there is usually a logical explanation for everything. You’d be surprised.”

  They sat there quietly until they called them to show them their table.

  Rebecca got to her apartment late that night after having been to the outside world for the first time in weeks. It was almost midnight, and she knew she would have less than six hours of sleep before she needed to be awake again to meet with Jon. Putting on her nightgown, she lay down with her book – the same one Dylan had lent her when she had first gotten to the agency - one she had been unable to finish.

  Like it had been happening since starting this new life, she couldn’t focus on her reading at all. Day after day, her mind took her back to her new life and nothing in any book could interest her as much.

  This was happening now. In her mind, she relived her trip to the town while the clock kept on ticking. Closing her book, she turned off her bed lamp to go to sleep, but it was useless. After staring at the dark ceiling for a while, she decided to go to the computer and waste time there until she felt like sleeping.

  Logging into the computer, she went straight to her personal email account – the one she had avoided since she had replied to Coleen’s message.

  There were a few spam emails, but Coleen’s message stood out from the rest because she had typed in all-caps: RE: HELLO?. Her email had been sent right after Rebecca had sent her last reply. After that, no more emails from Coleen were displayed.

  Without wasting time, she opened the message by clicking on the subject line.

  Rebecca, you can’t tell me to stop looking for you. And what changes? What are you talking about? I can only assume you ran off with him. If you did and you are happy, then I’ll try to understand. If not, then know that I’ll be here. I miss you. I miss my friend; now more than ever. Still, I’ll understand. Coleen.

  She sat there with only the computer’s hard drive buzz as her companion.

  How she wanted to answer her, to let her know she missed her, too.

  Part of her was dying to tell her everything that had happened to her and how her new life was more incredible than she had imagined. She wanted to tell her about Dylan and how their relationship had grown and how she shouldn’t have worried about the kind of man he was. She wanted to tell her about her newfound abilities and how, after all that time, she had turned out to be special.

  There was so much to say that shouldn't be said. Still, her hand found its way to the reply button, clicking on it. When she felt the keyboard under her hands, she couldn't resist the temptation.

  Coleen, I'm with Dylan and I'm happy. And I miss you, too. One day, I will tell you everything. Becca.

  Her right hand went to the mouse which moved until it reached the send button. Without giving herself time to change her mind, she clicked on it.

  A second later, a new message appeared. Unable to deliver - Contact tech support, was the title on the subject line. Confused and a little afraid she had been caught doing something wrong, Rebecca opened the email message. The body of the message contained both Coleen’s email and her reply together with a bunch of random characters. At the top, she found the name Alan Brown, followed by his extension.

  She gasped, this was an agency generated email.

  She decided Dylan should not know about her messages to Coleen because it had nothing to do with him. This was personal and private. Instead, she got dressed and headed towards the fourteenth floor. She had to talk to Alan. The underground complex never slept and the lights outside her apartment were lit with the same intensity twenty-four hours a day. As she looked at the fifteen floors that spread above and below her, she could see others coming and going at that late hour of the night, making her wonder what their business was.

  During the past weeks, she had gotten used to familiar faces that followed a day schedule like hers, but now she was
looking at others she’d never seen before. She had even gotten to know her neighbor a little, Scott, the vampire agent she had encountered after accidentally getting on the elevator during her first day there. As far as she could tell, he was nice, but kept pretty much to himself most of the time. So did she.

  The library floor looked abandoned, yet as soon as she entered the room at the end of the hallway she could hear the typing sound Alan made as he flew his fingers on the keyboard.

  Rebecca opened the door to his workspace to find him bent over the computer typing frantically. In front of him, one of his screens was being filled with some computer code she couldn’t possibly begin to understand.

  Without saying a word, she stood behind him and waited. That had not been a good idea. Alan pressed enter, and the monitor showed an error.

  “Why?” growled Alan. Just then, he must've realized Rebecca was there with him. The boy dropped from his chair and bared his fangs. His vampire-self didn’t feel threatening to Rebecca, but she gave a step back, regardless.

  “Relax, it’s just me,” she told him.

  Alan shook off his fangs to go back to his human self. “You scared me, Ms. Sawyer. You can’t scare people like that, this is a place filled with vampires. Vampires who own guns!”

  She bit her lower lip as she tried to suppress a smile when she said, “Sorry.”

  Alan rubbed the back of his neck to help himself calm down. “Is there something you need? I’m kinda in the middle of a problem here.”

  Rebecca pulled an extra chair she found stacked in one corner and sat down next to him. “I just need five minutes of your time, Alan.” Seeing that Alan didn’t budge, she put on her puppy-eyed face, “Please?”

  “I can’t. I have to solve a problem I have and I-” Alan stopped talking as he watched Rebecca’s pleading expression with interest. “All right, fine, what do you need, Ms. Sawyer?” he sighed accepting defeat.

  “I need help,” Rebecca said, “with my email.”

  Immediately, awareness filled his face. “Oh, right. You sent that outgoing a few weeks ago.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head, “Red flag, Ms. Sawyer. Had to install a firewall. You can’t just send emails from some public address, you know? Have you any idea how many people are looking for this place? I work hard to keep us safe from hackers and the lot. You could have put us all in jeopardy.”