Julian winced, but forced his eyes to meet mine. “I have killed more of you fanged bastards than you could imagine.”
Applying another ounce of pressure, I allowed a sneer to cast a shadow across my face. “You have not looked at my resume. You mortals and your limited imaginations. You cannot begin to fathom the depths of my depravity.”
“Which is why you must die.”
“Which is why I must live. I have much to atone for.”
Julian laughed, defiance in his eyes as he stubbornly remained on his feet. He shook his head. “You claim you want redemption, but even through those glasses I see the murder in your eyes. You still want it. In your heart, you’ll just keep fooling yourself into thinking you could be better, but this is what you are, Flynn. Nothing but a murderer.”
His words ran through me like a blade, piercing my soul with the very root of my internal conflict. Frozen in place, I could not bring myself to deny the veracity of his words; I did want to murder him. And I knew, if I gave in, for a moment I would genuinely revel in it. A pang of guilt crippled me at just the wrong moment. Opening my mouth to speak, I afforded Julian his chance to turn the tables.
His other fist flew up – seemingly out of nowhere – and connected just above my ear. It forced me to relinquish my grip on his hand, stumbling back out of his reach only to realize I felt my sunglasses sliding from my nose. My attempt to prevent their removal merely jostled them onto the floor, where they landed with eerie finality. I hissed against the sudden assault of light, clenching my eyes shut and flailing blindly, knowing Julian would give me no opportunity to recover. ‘Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. ’
Robin’s voice entered my mind for the first time in days with the old taunt of keeping my guard up. I growled and sacrificed one hand in the effort to shield my face while dropping to my knees. “Fucking bastard!” I yelled.
“All’s fair in love and war.” I heard the rush of wind before feeling the force of Julian’s boot crunch my nose, which forced a spurt of tepid blood from my nostrils. Spilling fully onto the hard tile, I stole precious seconds to regroup before rolling onto my back and listening for what the master seer was about to do. I made out the sound of metal scraping the ground before being lifted from it. He had found his sword. Another surge of profanity threatened to escape my lips.
“Now, little vampire,” Julian said, taking his turn to be smug. “Would you prefer me to decapitate you or should I drive my sword through your heart instead?”
“Surprise me.” I took a deep breath, attempting to calm my thoughts enough to focus. If he was going to pause to be cocky, it was only fair to use the chance to engineer an escape. How I rued having such a debilitating handicap, though. At that moment, I would have preferred anyone else’s eyes above mine.
Anyone else’s. I perked an eyebrow as an unlikely presence made herself known – someone who stood by the entryway to the bathroom and watched from around the corner. She whispered to me in our shared connection and I fought the smirk wishing to emerge. ‘My dear, I shall have to chastise you some other time, ’ I responded. ‘For now, I am so very glad you chose to disobey me. ’
My focus turned back to Julian. “Please honor the dying’s last request,” I said, allowing Monica’s eyes to paint a picture of Julian’s position. Guarding my thoughts, I slid a hand into my coat and waited.
Julian walked forward, stopping only a few feet away. “What request?”
“Hold still.”
In one, swift motion, I withdrew a knife from my coat pocket and flicked the sheath off. With Julian’s back turned to Monica, I could not make out his facial expression, but I saw all I needed to in order to whip the dagger for his shoulder and force the master seer to drop his sword. He lifted a hand to fumble for the blade while issuing a wail of pain. I came to my feet as his blood dripped to the floor and felt the vampire in me clamor for control.
Instead of giving in, I lifted a hand and summoned all the telekinetic energy I could muster. It collided with Julian, lifting him into the air and sending him across the room until a mirror brought his flight to an abrupt halt. The glass shattered, shards of it falling with him as he toppled down onto the floor. Taking a steadying breath, I used my borrowed eyes to confirm that Julian was indeed unconscious.
“Thank you,” I said, placing a hand over my eyes again. “Could you help me locate my sunglasses before I wish for death?”
Monica strolled into the room. I disengaged from her vision when she shifted her gaze away from Julian “You might want to wash that blood from your nose while you’re at it,” she said as her fingers touched mine, guiding them to place my spectacles into my palm.
I secured them into place and lifted my lids, blinking twice to rid myself of the ambient burning. “Once again, I am in your debt.”
“You looked like you could have used some help.” A subtle smirk curled the corner of her mouth as our gaze met. She turned her head, regarding Julian with an upturned eyebrow while I walked toward a sink and turned on the faucet. “Glad to know I haven’t lost my touch.”
“Lost your touch?” A splash of water brought on the urge to wince, and not for the first time I wished I had a reflection. As it was, I washed my face as thoroughly as possible and wiped it dry using a few paper towels. My eyes scouted the floor for my sword as I tossed the refuse into a trash receptacle. Within moments, I had its hilt in hand and slid the katana back into its scabbard.
Monica nodded when I glanced in her direction again. “A little hocus pocus to make sure he didn’t sense me coming. Funny, but I usually use it against vampires.”
I could not help but to laugh. “I noticed you left me to clean up the mess.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I pointed at her skirt. “I know you yet keep that blade strapped to your thigh. Did not fancy an attempt at Julian?”
“Considering the idea was to maim and not to kill, no. I think I’ll let you have the corner on the knife-throwing end of this relationship.” A playful glint jumped across her eyes. “I’m saving the dagger for the next time you get on my nerves.”
“Devilish little imp.” Strolling over to Julian, I plucked my knife from his shoulder and flicked the blood away before sheathing it. Monica fetched the black bag and handed it to me as I smoothed out the folds of my coat. “We best depart,” I said. “Someone is liable to walk into this mess any moment.”
“And the train’s about to leave.”
“Let us hurry, then.” In a fit of spontaneity, I grabbed Monica and swept her into my arms. She produced a squeal of surprise and stared, wide-eyed, at me once I had her settled into place. I smirked. “You are entirely too slow while injured.”
My watcher blinked, still visually taken aback. “Flynn, I have two working legs.”
“And your point…?”
“Put me down.” She issued the demand half-heartedly.
“Oh, silence yourself before I leave you to deal with Julian.”
Monica rolled her eyes and I smirked in response, overcome with relief that we could finally put one problem to rest for the moment. Once we emerged into the main thoroughfare, I set my watcher down and adjusted my coat to ensure it kept my katana concealed. Without any word spoken, I offered my arm and she held onto me as she had during our walk to the train station. A subtle grin tugged at the corners of my mouth, the sensation of her gloved hand bringing warmth with it I could not know was real or imagined. I only knew our steps seemed more confident, and hers far less labored as they walked in tandem with mine. A few stray thoughts danced across my mind, quickly brushed aside for the time being.
“You’re not the slightest bit curious where we’re going?” she asked as she stole a glance my direction from her periphery.
“I read your mind in the other room. You shall have to be more careful. Whatever you did to me seems to have made that task easier.”
“That was the idea.” As she looked up at me, I caught a slight wave of trepidation comi
ng from her, met with the sense that her mental walls had been erected that much higher. I furrowed my brow, my smile wavering. For as much as I had been an open book, there were thoughts Monica still wished to keep from me. I ignored it as much as possible while boarding the train and allowing the conductor to lead us to our seats.
Once the human left our presence and permitted us to shut the door to our private quarters, I stripped off my coat. “Chicago,” I said, procuring a hangar and threading it into shoulders of my garment. I hung it up and detached my katana from my side. “I had often fancied traveling when I was yet human, but figured those days would come much later.”
“Well, it’s your lucky day, Flynn.” Monica stripped off her coat as well, albeit much more gingerly than I had. I took it from her and saw to the business of hanging it while she settled in one of the narrow seats our closet-sized compartment boasted. My watcher yawned, shimmying in her seat as though attempting to find some comfort. “I have contacts in the Windy City that’ve offered us a place to stay. We… sort of have to avoid telling them that you’re a vampire.”
I settled in the seat opposite her. “How do you propose to do that?”
“I don’t know, I was figuring we could tell them you were just sick.”
Her eyes shut. The corner of her mouth curled in a grin and I groaned as I reached for the curtains and pulled them closed. “I hope that is not your plan.”
“So what if it is?” Monica shifted again. “Honestly, they wouldn’t be expecting me to consort with a vampire after what happened to Lydia. And they especially wouldn’t expect you to be her killer, so we’ll get a stay of execution for a while.”
“We are consorting now?”
“Don’t try your luck, buddy.”
I managed a smirk, but noticed her wince and could not sustain the smile for very long. Concern shrouded the bit of merriment we had managed to conjure in the room. “Are you alright?” I asked.
Monica sighed and opened her eyes again. “It’s hard to get comfortable in these damn seats.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?” I patted the cushion underneath me. “This folds out into a bed.”
“Lying flat makes it even worse.”
“You could lean against me.”
She furrowed her brow, studying me while I perked an eyebrow back at her. Her eyes darted to the sparse amount of room on my left side and I shifted over, following the implicit request to see how readily we would fit on the same bench. At first, I thought she would decline, but then she did a curious thing.
Monica stood, keeping me in her gaze as she crossed the short divide between us. I lifted an arm and she sat beside me, stiff at first, then relaxing gradually until I felt her curl against me. My hand settled onto her shoulder first, but slid downward until it settled near the crook of her elbow. I thought I felt her tense again, but for all I knew, perhaps I was the one finally letting myself be stilled.
Her head rested on my chest. I listened to her pulse and pretended not to notice how warm her body felt, pressed close to my much cooler torso. As she placed her palm above my silent heart, I felt an alien sentimentality weave its way around my thoughts, far more taken by the gesture than I even dared admit to myself. She whispered, “Thank you,” to me and I nodded, not certain how to respond except to say, “You are welcome.” The silence which followed was calmer than any I had ever experienced before.
The train started moving a short while afterward. I heard the cadence of her breaths change slightly, and smiled when I realized she had fallen asleep. My hand lifted from her arm and brushed back the blonde locks framing one side of her face, a contrast against her otherwise dark hair. The woman in my embrace looked more than beautiful. I forced myself to look away lest another second threaten to distract me.
My thoughts shifted back to our destination.
I mused on the matter of journeys, on excursions both literal and figurative. The next page of this destiny I now embodied lay before me, but there seemed to be another path emerging, born from this peculiar relationship I shared with Monica. I could not be certain when it happened, but something had changed between us, forcing a tighter bond to knit itself into place. Something in my cold heart had met a thaw. A fissure had formed in an otherwise solid suit of armor. It seemed to have brought her closer, but she was not alone.
Truth be told, it had brought me closer to her as well.
Part Three
Partners In Crime
“It’s bullshit to think of friendship
and romance as being different. They’re not.
They’re just variations of the same love.”
Rachel Cohn
Chapter Ten
Monica and I were greeted by a message upon arriving in Chicago the next evening. No sooner did we step from the train than an announcement chimed over the speakers, bringing my watcher from a sedate stroll to a complete stop.
I perked an eyebrow. “Why did we pause?” I asked.
She sighed, her eyes darting around the area. “That was my name.”
Scanning the vicinity, I neither saw a human looking in our direction, nor recalled ‘Monica Alexander’ echoing over the loudspeaker. My gaze found hers again after my quick examination. “Are you certain of this?”
“Yeah, sorry.” She flashed an apologetic grin. “Wesley and I came up with a pseudonym for me before we left. Just in case. He didn’t want to give us away by yelling, ‘Monica’ all over the place.”
I huffed, a smirk touching the corners of my mouth as we diverted our course and headed for the concierge. “Wesley?”
“My friend here, yes.”
“What kind of a name is Wesley?”
“Oh, stop it. It’s not like that.” Monica winked and took hold of my arm, leaving me somewhat confused in the process. I fought the compulsion to ask what she thought I meant, and decided against it once we joined a crowded mass of humans. The drone of several distinct conversations blended into a cacophony which made conversation next to impossible. As it was, Monica had to shout over the commotion to ask the concierge why she had been summoned.
He slipped her a note. I watched him point away from the area and made out the words ‘friend’ and ‘combination’ before she nodded and nudged us away. As we approached a collection of lockers, she opened the piece of paper in her hand and searched for the number which had been jotted down. “Why did your cohort leave something inside a locker?” I asked as I aided in the quest.
Monica sighed. “Wesley has a hard time sitting still. He probably got tired of waiting and dragged his buddies off to go exploring. I swear sometimes the man is five years old.”
My eyebrow lifted again, an amused expression on my face as I split my attention between searching and stealing glances at her. “You are certain the two of you do not have a history?”
In my periphery, I swore I saw her wince. “Not the two of us. He knows my family, though, so I guess you could say I’m used to him.” She bent first, then stood straight and smiled. “Here we go. Let’s see what the bastard left for us.”
Nodding, I lingered back a few paces while Monica studied her piece of paper and lifted her hand to the combination lock. It took two attempts, but a minute later, the lock popped open and enabled Monica to free the contents from inside. An envelope contained a fair amount of money, a set of keys, and another handwritten note. “What is it?” I asked as my watcher read the longer missive.
She shook her head. “Just like I figured, he couldn’t sit still.” Her eyes remained set on the words before peering up at me as she folded the paper. “Instructions for the trains and where we’re staying. His parents gave him more dollars than they did sense. He rents at least two places wherever he’s at to give himself a few options.”
“Options?” My brow remained furrowed, even when she slipped the contents of the locker into her coat pocket and took hold of my arm again.
The look on her face fell slightly. “You can take the man out of the Order,” s
he said, “But you can’t take the Order out of the man.” The statement hung in the space between us, an unwelcomed harbinger I chose to brush away. We had endured enough in the past week for me not to seek out demons and the prospect of settling in somewhere for a time bore more promise than dwelling on cryptic remarks. So I painted a smile on my face which became more genuine as the night wore on. After helping my watcher navigate the Chicago transit system, we arrived at our borrowed apartment just past midnight. I tossed the duffle bag onto the floor and unstrapped my katana before settling in a chair, relieved.
The space was hardly posh, but it was spacious enough for me to question what sort of money Wesley’s family possessed. Rugs adorned the hardwood floors and a plush couch complimenting the chair in which I sat had been positioned in the middle of a modest-sized living room. I stole a glimpse at his bookcase, scanning the titles of books ranging from the occult to Edgar Allan Poe. A framed print of Seattle, Washington hung on the wall behind a stand which housed a large television set. “Home sweet home,” I murmured as I stood and stripped off my coat.
Monica had retreated into the kitchen and was now speaking on the phone. “Yes, we found it just fine,” was followed by a, “No, we don’t need you to come over and check in on us – we’ll be alright.” She paused to listen. “No, I just need some time to rest. I was injured pretty badly a week ago.” A sigh. “I’ll explain when we get together. Honestly, I’m mending right now – hitting the healing spells while popping medication. I’ll be right as rain, just give me a few days.”
I perked an eyebrow at the exchange, draping my coat across the back of the chair, but hesitating in sitting again. Monica chuckled softly. “Yeah, you’re still just as fucking incorrigible as you used to be,” she said. “Try not to get yourself killed out there. I’ll call you in a couple of days and we can all meet somewhere. I call dibs on pizza. Everyone says the stuff around here is orgasmic.” There was a brief pause, followed by, “Thanks, Wes. See you soon, then.”
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