by John Conroe
“What else?”
“There are some rather bogus charges against me…I would like them dropped.”
“Already done, Officer Gordon,” General Creek said.
“We can dispense with the Officer part, as effective today, I’m resigning from the NYPD,” I said.
The President just raised his eyebrows in question.
“I won’t work for someone who breaks faith with me,” I said with a shrug.
“What else?”
“Mr. President, I love my country, which is why I have insisted that none of the law enforcement or military people involved have been hurt. What I need is some leeway. Some room to work.”
He frowned. “Room to work what?” he asked warily.
“The Southwest portion of this country is facing a gang problem that I am uniquely qualified to handle,” I said.
“Mr. President, he’s talking about the Loki Spawn gang problem,” Creek said.
“The weres?”
“Yes Sir!” Creek said.
“I thought you wanted to protect the weres, Offi…Gordon?” the President asked.
“Only the New York Pack, Sir. The Spawn are something altogether different, and they have declared war on the Coven. They tried to kill Tanya,” I said, struggling to control the anger that statement elicited.
Something must have shown on my face because the two men near me edged back and the President’s eyes widened.
“Would that have anything to do with Atlantic Avenue?” he asked.
“About 300 Spawn attacked a small group of my people.”
“I see. And those Spawn are where right now?”
“They are about two inches of ash on the floor of the tunnel,” I said, my voice roughening.
>Christian!< Tanya’s voice said, settling me instantly.
“All three hundred?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yes, Sir, but I only killed about 190 of the or so. Okwari took out like thirty-five to forty, and the Coven killed like maybe seventy.”
>Seventy-seven!< Tanya interjected in my ear.
“Seventy-seven,” I corrected.
“What turned them to ash?” the President asked.
“Ah, I did.”
“You burned them to ash?
“Well, Sir, they were killing my fiancé. I sorta snapped,” I said with a shrug.
“Gordon, you burned 300 werewolves to ash?” General Creek asked, unable to control his curiosity
The President frowned his famous frown. “Mr. Gordon, you have entirely too much power!”
I chuckled, “Sir, that seems funny coming from the most powerful man in the world!”
“Gordon, my power is granted by the people, controlled with checks and balances! Yours is completely personal, uncontrolled, without any boundaries!”
“Actually sir, I have numerous checks and balances,” I said. “The most important of those stands about this high,” I held my hand at Tanya height, “has black hair and truly amazing blue eyes. You know? The one Kincaid here was thinking of cannoning to death with his gunship!” I finished with a glare at Kincaid.
“You’re saying that Tatiana Demidova acts as a counter balance to you?” the President asked, ignoring my glance at Kincaid.
“Think of her as my artificial conscience.”
“So a vampire is your guide for right and wrong?” he asked, frowning.
“Wow, it sounds bad when you say it that way. I have my own principals of right and wrong, pounded into me by my grandparents, and my parents before them. Basic Judeo-christian principals. But Tanya acts as a control on my temper,” I said. “You see Mr. President, things could get really bad if I lose my temper. I’m doing a decent job of controlling it, but Tanya can calm me with a word or a touch. There are some other checks, but she is the most powerful.”
A quick montage of images scrolled through my head, showing the Tear, Barbiel, my grandfather, Gina, Lydia, and Okwari.
“So, in summary, you want me to not only let the most dangerous man on the planet roam free, but keep law enforcement out of your way while you slaughter a gang of furry bikers, while leaving your self control in the hands of a twenty-something vampire princess?” he asked.
“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”
He scratched his head, then rubbed his chin while he considered.
“How in hell are we supposed to keep the police out of your way?”
“Well, Sir, I kinda thought I could coordinate with General Creek here, maybe through an intermediary.”
“I see. Do you have such an intermediary in mind?”
I smiled. “It happens that I do.”
Epilogue
Truth be told, I was a bit nervous when I got off the elevator, shuffling my packages awkwardly. I can pick up a car but that extra strength and agility doesn’t give me extra arms or longer fingers. Awkward boxes and objects are still a pain to handle. Of course, if I drop them, the package will never hit the ground. My save rate is awesome.
* * *
Gina and Roy Velasquez lived in a Brooklyn apartment building that was well kept and lovingly maintained, although the neighborhood had seen better days. Both public servants, they made solid middle income wages but the City is expensive at the best of times and they were raising a child.
Apartment forty-seven loomed in front of me and the sounds of laughter were loud to my ears. I had been hearing dozens of conversations as I walked up the four flights of stairs, my acute hearing making the walls paper thin.
* * *
The Velasquez apartment was generating the sounds of a party in full swing, a riotous mixture of both adult and child voices. I paused, my hand frozen in door knock position, suddenly gripped with uncertainty. The sounds within scared me more than the growl of a were or the hiss of a pissed off vampire. The easy laughter and voices warm with friendship were alien to my experience.
The door opened before I could bring myself to knock and Roy’s smiling face and stocky frame filled the doorway.
“Aha! I knew I heard the ding of the elevator door!” he exclaimed in victory.
“Hi Roy,” I said.
“Chris, I’m…we’re really glad you came!” he said, his eyes filled with some emotion that I had difficulty identifying.
“Oh hey! Let me grab some of this from you,” he said, breaking into motion after that uncomfortable pause.
I let him take the bottle of wine and the twelve pack of Sam Adams beer, but kept hold of the large box tucked under my right arm.
“Roy, who’s at the doo….Oh Chris! You’re here! Great!” Gina said, from the archway to the living room.
I had been here exactly one time before, when Gina had thrown a squad holiday party. The door opened into a hallway that led to the kitchen straight ahead. A big archway in the left wall of the hallway led into a large living room that also held the dining room table. The right hand wall held four doors, the first a closet, next the master bedroom, then the single bathroom and finally, Antonia’s room.
Antonia was five today and that momentous occasion was the primary reason for the party.
* * *
The birthday girl herself came zooming around the corner, laughing and bumping into her mother’s jean clad leg. The adult dress code for the party was decidedly casual, but Antonia had other ideas about what she would wear. With long black hair and dark chocolate brown eyes, she was her mother’s daughter to the core. She was dressed in a white party dress with poofy sleeves and a light blue ribbon around her waist and another blue ribbon in her hair. Spotting me, she straightened up, her face becoming serious.
“Hi, Mr. Chris,” she intoned in an exact copy of her mother’s voice, only higher. The squad had nicknamed her Mini-G, because she was so much like Gina.
“Hi yourself, Toni. Happy birthday!” I said.
Deep, dark brown eyes fastened onto the box under my arm.
“Is that for me?” she asked, her eyes never leaving the package.
“What this?”
I looked down at the square box wrapped in shiny red party paper like I had only just noticed it tucked in my arm.
“You know….I think it is!” I said with my best attempt at surprise in my voice. “ I found it on the street and thought it must belong to you!”
Now her glance met mine and her expression changed from intrigued curiosity to disdainful disbelief.
“Pah! You brought it for me and you know it!” she said with grave certainty.
“Okay, you got me, I did!” I confessed. “You’re as tough an interviewer as your mother.”
She smiled at that, her face lighting up at the comparison with her cop momma. Several unknown adults in the kitchen were watching our conversation, sipping cocktails with bemused expressions. I did my best to ignore them, concentrating on Toni and her parents.
“I think you should open it immediately, although I would really rather be far away when your parents see what I brought you,” I said.
Gina’s eyes narrowed, but ignoring her I set the box on the ground in front of Toni and helped her slip the fitted top off. I watched her face while she peered over the edge, listening to her sudden intake of breath as she recognized the contents. “Ooooohhhh!” her face lifted to look at mine, eyes big as quarters, mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. Then she spun to her parents, jumping up and down like only a five-year old can. “Momma, Daddy, it’s a mouse….my very own mouse!”
Not daring to meet Gina’s eyes, I pulled the El Grande Mouse House plastic habitat out of the box and pushed the box out of the way so I could set it on the floor. The little white rodent inside was crouched in the corner scrubbing his face and whiskers with his paws as if in a hurry to clean up before meeting his new owner. Chet had told me that was a sign of nervousness, so I explained to Toni.
“Toni, he’s still pretty young and he’s very scared right now. See how he washes his face like that?”
She nodded solemnly. “It means he’s really, really scared. So maybe we could put him in your room and let him calm down before you show you friends. Okay?”
She nodded and I carried the cage into her pink and white room, setting it on her desk.
Finally I turned to face the music. Gina had her arms crossed, staring at me in her careful unreadable way. Roy, however, was smiling broadly at his little girl’s delight and bent over to listen as she explained to him, exactly what I had told her.
“A mouse? Really, Gordon?” Gina said.
She called me Gordon, instead of Chris, so I was either in big trouble or she was faking.
I added gas to the fire. “Actually, he’s a rat. Still a pup. He’ll be bigger, which is why I got the biggest cage.”
“He’s a rat?” Antonia asked, her little brow furrowed. Toni was a city girl and to her a rat was a brown ugly thing, best avoided.
“He’s a white lab rat, Toni, the youngest in a batch that my friend Chet had. I thought he should be rescued and figured you were the best one to raise him.”
The fact that he was cute and hers was more than enough to decide in his favor. “Will he bite?”
“Not this one. He’s been handled almost from birth and now he likes it,” I said, opening the cage and picking him up in the palm of my hand. I had handled him before so he knew my scent and began to climb around.
I showed Toni how to hold him, how to pick him up, and how to be gentle. Then I took a bottle of hand sanitizer from my pocket and cleaned her hands, explaining why she should do that after every time she picked him up.
“What are we supposed to feed him?” Gina asked.
“Tanya is bringing up the supplies. We got you about two years worth of food and bedding,” I said.
“Tanya is here?” Roy asked, his tone and expression startled enough to tell me he knew what she was.
“Yeah, we have a date night tonight and she wanted to meet you and Toni.”
Gina patted her husband on the arm and spoke to reassure him. “It’s good, Roy. I don’t think Tanya knows many children.”
“Try none!” I said.
“Where is she now?” he asked, nervously.
“She’s finding a parking spot. She’ll be right up.”
“You left her to find a spot? On our street? She’ll never find one!” he said.
I laughed. “Roy, Roy, Roy. Ye of little faith. I’ll bet you a cold beer that she’ll find a spot inside five minutes and it’ll be no more than two buildings away in either direction.”
He frowned at my confidence, but having no downside to the bet he nodded. He would understand when she entered the apartment. All the men at the party would understand and probably the women too. I’ve seen a street gang pick up and move a VW by force of numbers just to let her have a parking spot. A quick smile and a grateful laugh had been their only payment, but apparently she had change coming because when we returned an hour later, the gang had been keeping an eye on her car, protecting it with a vengeance.
* * *
“Chris, I want to introduce you to some people,” Gina said, holding out her hand to lead me into the living room like a shy child.
The main living space of the apartment held seven adults and what appeared to be thirty-seven children but was actually six, multiplied by their birthday cake stoked frenetic play.
There were four women and three men, five girls (not counting Toni) and one lone boy who looked a bit bewildered. I liked him immediately, our expressions probably matched.
One very small woman was talking with three others, her back to me. Her audience included Roy’s counterpart from I.S. 341, Sonja as well as another woman and one man. All three stopped paying attention to the tiny form of Roy’s boss, Dr. Schmidt, and looked at me as Gina led me over.
Sonja’s eyes widened as she saw my eyes, and her expression alerted Dr. Schmidt who turned, glass of wine in hand to see who was coming.
“Jean, Sonja, Peter, Carol, this is Chris,” Gina said simply.
Peter and Carol just gave me the normal stare I get when meeting people. Sonja’s dark skin went pale and Jean Schmidt jumped at my violet eyes, which she had last seen while bleeding from a bullet wound.
Her wine glass dropped toward the floor as her hand involuntarily opened from the shock of seeing me.
I leaned around Gina, putting my hand lightly on her back and caught the glass, letting it fall a whole four inches before snagging it. It wouldn’t do to move too fast.
“Nice to meet you all,” I said, mildly, handing the small, shocked principal her glass of red.
Peter and Carol greeted me in a distracted way, both trying to figure out the reactions of the other two.
“And these ladies are Liz, Karen and Denise. Three of the girls running around us belong to them,” Gina said with a laugh, pointing out the other three adults, who all smiled with the interested expressions of women sensing a juicy story. I nodded and said hello.
“Chris is to be Toni’s new Godfather,” Gina said, announcing one of the other reasons for my visit.
Roy’s oldest brother had been Antonia’s Godfather, but had passed away from a virulent form of brain cancer about four months prior. Gina and Roy had popped this question on me after my meeting with the government. Probably payback for what I had done to her.
“He’s also the reason I left the force and went to work for Homeland Security,” she added.
Gina’s name had been the one I gave the President as my choice for intermediary and he had not only given her that position, but also made her the new Presidential Advisor on Anomalous Phenomenon. Apparently, Kincaid was looking for a job.
Gina seemed to be keeping the Presidential part quiet though.
Acknowledging the round of polite exclamations at this news, I suddenly became aware of a fierce grip on my outstretched hand, the hand that had returned the wine to Dr. Schmidt. Her expression was as fiercely grateful as her grip was tight. She looked me squarely in the eyes and whispered “Thank you!”
Two words that carried the weight of a building or maybe the weigh
t of a school. Behind her, Sonja’s head gave a sharp nod of agreement, her face reflecting the emotions that had locked her tongue.
Peter and Carol figured it out first, awe flickering across their faces from one to the other like a shadow crossing a wall.
“You’re the….” Carol trailed off when I glanced at her. Twin ideas warred in her eyes. Yes – I was the one who saved the school, but I was also the one who pulped eight armed men into pink mist in almost the same amount of seconds. As much as she was grateful, she was also afraid.
Dr. Schmidt had no such conflict, pumping my hand and reclaiming my gaze with her own. “We are more grateful than you can know,” she said.
I am not comfortable with gratitude. I do whatever I do because it seems to be right, at least according to the principals my parents and grandparents drummed into me. I don’t ever do it for thanks or accolades. Eyes brimming with tears, faces aglow with thanks, all these make me nervous, and this time was no different. Tanya chose that moment to save me yet again.
“Ah, Gina, I think Tanya should be at the door almost anytime now,” I said, glancing at my watch like I needed its aid in calculating her closeness.
The rap at the door came right on cue.
“Oh, excuse me, I need to let Chris’s fiancée in,” she said.
The word fiancée was enough to break the ring of emotions, curiosity replacing the rest.
I had felt her in the building, on the floor and at the door. Now I felt her enter the room behind me and I got to watch the reactions of the others. Even the children stopped playing to stare. The adults looked thunderstruck. I spun around.
She stood in the archway, Gina just to her side. Wearing those clingy black lycra spandexy pants that I like so much. Just a little heavier than leggings. You really can’t wear them well if you’re not in shape. Tanya wore the hell out of them. Her top half was covered in a deep burgundy sweater, the color so rich it would turn to black in low light. Black, calf-high boots and a tiny black Coach purse completed her outfit. As always, her eyes found mine instantly.
“Any trouble parking?” I asked, innocently.
