Life After Humanity

by Gillian St. Kevern

  Nate suppressed his snort of laughter with difficulty. “Now that you’ve seen him, what do you think?”

  Beatrice studied Grant as if she was appraising him for a photo shoot. “Interesting. Very handsome—but with Aki, that goes without saying.”

  Nate bit his lip. Aki’s taste in men was not always so discerning.

  Beatrice continued. “He’s got something else. I don’t know how to put my finger on it… But it’s there. I’m not interested at all in men, but I can’t deny it. Whatever it is.”

  Nate studied Grant afresh. Was that Grant’s natural charisma, or the latent power of an alpha werewolf?

  “He’s very good-looking,” Mandy agreed. “But he’s not the only reason we’re here.” She looked at Nate. Her copious eyeshadow highlighted the bright blue of her eyes, while her dark lashes made her naturally blonde hair seem even lighter. “You’re a very hard man to track down recently.”

  Nate squirmed. That hadn’t been entirely accidental. His memory of exactly what Mandy had done to get him into trouble with Department Seven was fuzzy, but her tearful apology had not been enough. Now that time had passed, he was pleased to see an old friend. “Yeah, well… I’ve been putting in daytime shifts.”

  Beatrice took her eyes off Grant to consider Nate. “There’s a rumor going round you’re looking to leave Century.”

  Century was the nightclub where Nate and Aki worked—not that nightclub came anywhere close to describing the club. Yes, it had a bar and music and events. The dance floor was nearly always busy, and when it wasn’t, it was only because it was too packed for people to dance. But people didn’t come to Century to dance.

  They came for Century’s reputation and for its staff. The club was notorious as New Camden’s most well-known brothel, but it was its respectability, not its vice that attracted. Century dressed its staff in designer clothes, gave them protection and a hefty price tag, and encouraged them to employ their charm and their power of veto in equal amounts. The result was a club with an atmosphere unique in New Camden. Mandy and Beatrice were among those attracted by the club’s promise of spice and safety, and they’d quickly gravitated to Nate.

  Nate was skilled at putting people at ease, and it hadn’t taken long for him and Mandy to discover they were both small-town graduates trying to find their feet in the big city. They had enjoyed a low-key flirtation that had continued over months of drink orders and endured Beatrice’s pointed remarks. Now?

  I’ve missed Mandy. But the same way as I’ve missed Bea. Nate frowned. Mandy was lovely, generous, and sweet. More importantly, she got things that only someone who grew up in the country got. It’s great to see her again, but that’s as far as it goes. Nate realized with a guilty start that Beatrice waited for his answer. “Yeah. It’s going to be weird not working at Century, but I think it’s time.”

  Mandy tilted her head. “How come?”

  Nate shrugged. In many ways, Century was the best thing to have happened to him. How to put into words the nebulous feeling that was behind him giving it up? “I’m not feeling the job anymore.”

  Beatrice and Mandy exchanged a glance. It was only a second, but it was layered with so much feminine significance that Nate, shameless to a fault, had to fight a blush.

  “Did you meet someone special?” Beatrice asked.

  It was strange. The answer was no. You didn’t meet someone special enough to quit Century over and forget them—but Nate almost thought that there was. “Nah. I think I just reached the point where I want something more from my relationships, and I’m not going to find that while working at Century.”

  He expected one or both of them to pounce on that, but Beatrice simply nodded, sipping her drink. “Aki’s not happy about it.”

  Nate winced. “No.” Not happy was an understatement, and probably behind Aki’s recent insistence on emphasizing the importance of their friendship at any given opportunity. “I was hoping Grant living so close to us would be a distraction, but it hasn’t worked like that.”

  “Give Grant time.” Mandy looked around. “Who are your other friends?”

  “That’s George with the pizza.” Nate nodded toward her. “She’s a supernatural hunter. We met when—” Shit. Nate couldn’t tell Mandy that George had been investigating his brother as a suspect in her hunting partner’s murder. “She was on a hiking vacation.”

  Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “Hiking?”

  “I met Vazul and Charlotte at my counseling sessions.” Nate didn’t want to get into this any more than he wanted to get into George investigating him, but at least no one had died during their counseling sessions. “As a newly awoken supernatural, I have to do them.”

  “Makes sense.” Mandy looked curiously at the others. “Are they…newly awoken, too?”

  She was taking this way better than Nate expected. “Uh, no, actually. Charlotte’s a witch and—” Nate paused. Vazul refused to say what he was.

  “A witch?” Mandy brightened, sharing an eager glance with Beatrice.

  “Not like a bad witch,” Nate said hastily. “She’s —” He paused. Mandy seemed interested, not alarmed.

  “Would she mind if we asked her about it?” Beatrice asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Nate looked across the room, where Charlotte stood, holding a vegan brownie and looking as though she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. He caught her eye and beckoned her to join them. “Charlotte, these are my friends Bea and Mandy. They’re interested in witchcraft.”

  “It’s not what you think it is,” Charlotte said immediately. “Most harmful spells are outlawed. Witchcraft today mostly concentrates on self-improvement. Like yoga, except without the yoga.”

  “Without the yoga?” Beatrice put her drink down and turned, giving Charlotte her full attention. “Tell me more.”

  Charlotte looked from Mandy to Beatrice. “Are you interested in practicing?”

  Mandy nodded. “We might be. From what I’ve read, it sounds fascinating.”

  “Wait.” Nate couldn’t keep the incredulous note out of his voice. “You’ve read about witchcraft?”

  “An example you could follow.” Charlotte frowned at Nate. “You have the makings of a natural witch, if you would only apply yourself.”

  Nate ignored her, speaking to Mandy. “I didn’t think this was something you would want to learn about.”

  Mandy looked at her feet. “Since learning about you, I had to rethink a lot of my assumptions about the supernatural. I want to learn more. Beatrice and I took a basic spellcraft course at night school.”

  “Yeah?” Nate grinned. “That’s really cool.”

  Mandy smiled, tucking her hair out of her face. “Well…”

  “I was actually thinking of forming a coven,” Charlotte said hesitantly, “if you were interested.”

  The feeling bypassed Nate’s nerves and went straight to his fight or flight reflex. Danger, it said. Close and drawing closer. Inescapable.

  Nate’s head jerked up. He scanned the room, looking for the source of the threat. In New Camden, danger was never far away. Even daylight was no promise of safety. Vampires were the most well-known of New Camden’s population of monsters, but there were many more who hunted during the day.

  Instead, he saw Grant laughing at one of Aki’s jokes, Vazul busily explaining that whatever Aki had just said was an impossibility and George rolling her eyes as she grabbed another slice of meat lovers. Nate stared. Am I dreaming? The feeling was vivid, clinging to him with the same clammy grip as a nightmare. His heart still raced. But not a single one of his friends reacted.

  Nate swallowed. Charlotte was an experienced witch. As a werewolf, Grant’s reflexes extended beyond the natural world. If anything sinister lurked in the apartment, he would know. Vazul… Nate couldn’t speak for his senses, but he was a good ally to have in a fight. And Aki… Nate watched him closely. Aki had the ability to see the future. Foresight was hard to tie down, but it gave him a sixth sense for threats. If there
was any danger around, Aki would be the first to know.

  Aki leaned forward, helping himself to a slice of pizza. “I’m just saying the sign could have been thirty days since Grant did laundry and have had just the same impact.”

  Aki couldn’t talk. He had only once done the laundry since he and Nate moved in together. But it wasn’t his chronic untidiness that troubled Nate.

  If there was anything to sense, Aki should have sensed it. Nate looked around the room, from Charlotte, deep in conversation with Beatrice and Mandy, to Grant, trying to steal Aki’s pizza, to George, picking up the argument with Vazul. His friends’ lack of reaction said it all.

  Nate felt sick. I’m the only one who feels this?

  NATE LEANED AGAINST his bedroom door with a sigh. Excusing himself from the party without seeming suspicious had been a challenge, but finally he was alone. He took a deep breath. The sense of menace was muted but still there.

  I know it’s nothing. Ruthlessly, Nate faced the feeling with the knowledge that it was only imagination. You’ve got to be a proper Fortune Teller to have precognitions! Someone—people are always telling me that! He took another breath, this time letting it out slowly. You’re over this.

  By the third slow exhale, some of the feeling of imminent menace had gone. Nate dropped backward onto his bed with a sigh. Why now? I’m not allergic to parties. I like everyone here. There’s no reason for me to be anxious. He stretched out his hands, absently stroking the quilt Ma had sent in her last care package.

  He encountered something cold and smooth. Nate knew what it was even before his fingers closed around the acorn. It hadn’t been there when he’d made his bed that morning. Another one. He turned it over in his hand, admiring its warm grain. Just when I needed it… Is that deliberate?

  It had to be deliberate. Acorns didn’t appear out of thin air. Aki had insisted that Nate start locking his window at night, but the acorns kept coming. Someone’s behind this. The thought gave Nate a warm feeling. Someone’s telling me something.

  The door opened. Nate sat up, instinctively hiding the acorn within his fist. “Aki?”

  Aki shut the door behind him and leaned on it. He took a moment to eye Nate. Unlike Nate, he was dressed for a party. Nate considered Aki’s bright plaid pants, chunky leather belt and boots. That should have been a major clue. Aki was dressed to impress, not for a casual coffee with his roommate.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Me?” Nate licked his lip. Had Aki noticed his reaction?

  Aki rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking to your jungle.” He gave Nate’s collection of plants a glare and then took a step toward him, plunking himself down on the bed next to Nate. “You know the sign was just a joke, right? The only reason we did it because we thought you’d find it funny.”

  “Because it was.” Nate nudged him. “If a bit exaggerated. Still, it was for a good cause.”

  Aki looked at his nails. “I suppose Grant barely qualifies as a good cause.”

  “Careful. Werewolves have really good hearing. What if he hears you?”

  “I hope he does.” Aki glanced at Nate. “So if you’re not nursing a sense of injustice, what are you doing in here when you could be making eyes at Mandy?”

  It was the perfect opportunity to tell Aki about his feeling. Nate rolled the acorn around his palm as he drew a deep breath. The difficulty was putting it into words—

  Aki’s eyes dropped to Nate’s hand and he froze. “Another one?”

  Nate stiffened. “I found it just now. It was on my bed.”

  “This is getting seriously creepy.” Aki stood, tossing Nate’s pillows aside as he searched for any further acorns.

  “They’re just acorns.”

  “For now. See if you feel this way when it’s a disembodied ear.” Aki tossed a pillow at Nate and continued his search in Nate’s wardrobe.

  “An ear?”

  “It could be any body part. I don’t think serial killers really care.”

  “It’s not a serial killer, Aki.”

  Aki spun around. “How else do you explain it then? No normal person would spend a month leaving acorns in our apartment!”

  “We don’t know it’s someone,” Nate protested.

  “They’re not getting in here on their own.” Aki waved a hand toward Nate’s window. “We’ve both been careful to lock the apartment when we go out. Neither of us are leaving windows open. But this keeps happening!”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “Bypassing a locked door to get into a room is a big deal!” Aki waved his hand toward the door. “Look. One of our friends has to know something that could help us figure this out. Let’s ask.”

  Nate’s fingers tightened around the acorn. The idea of sharing something so personal with the group repelled him. “No.” The vehemence in his tone startled him.

  It startled Aki. He stared at Nate, a faint red tinge spreading across his cheeks.

  The doorbell rang.

  Thank god for latecomers. Nate nodded toward the door. “Shouldn’t you get that?”

  Aki shook his head, refusing to be diverted. “They can handle it. Like they’d handle this weirdo if you’d just say something!”

  “I don’t want to say something.”

  Aki folded his arms across his chest. “If you don’t, I will. This can’t keep happening.”

  There was a knock at Nate’s door. “Nate, Aki? Mind if I come in?” Grant’s voice had an unusually strained note.

  Aki and Nate shared a glance and turned as one to the door. “What’s up?”

  Grant opened the door. “You’ve got a visitor, Nate.”

  “We didn’t ask anyone else,” Aki started.

  Grant stepped out of the doorway. “He insists.”

  Nate stood, sliding the acorn into his pocket. He stepped into the living room.

  The party was not just dead. It had an obituary to prove it. Mandy and Beatrice had retreated into the kitchen, and Vazul looked as if he wished he didn’t have too much pride to follow them. Charlotte was doing a very poor job of pretending not to gag on the vaguely sulfurous smell that clung to the air, stifling all the energy in the room. George, never daunted by anything, looked uncomfortable.

  The only person, in fact, who looked at home was Gunn, his head tilted as he studied the discarded banner. “Cute,” he pronounced. “If wildly inaccurate.”

  “Gunn?” Nate felt a sense of relief entirely at odds with Gunn’s entire existence. Not only was the Department Seven officer’s presence a sign that something was seriously wrong, but the man was a lemur, a supernatural being Nate didn’t fully understand but knew equaled bad news. Despite his better knowledge, he grinned. “What are you doing here?”

  Gunn jerked his head toward the sign. “You’re going to need to change that.”

  “What do you mean? I haven’t done anything.”

  “Shows what you know.” Gunn bared teeth that were yellowed, jagged, and feral. “You’re coming with me, Nate. I got a crime scene that has your name all over it.”

  Chapter Two

  NATE GRIPPED THE side of his seat. His life flashed before his eyes, a fact that had nothing to do with Gunn’s summons and everything to do with his driving.

  The lemur drove like he did everything else, turning a blind eye to the rules when it suited him, or flagrantly pushing them as far as he could. He dived into New Camden’s crowded roads with characteristic recklessness. In a good car, Gunn’s risk-taking would have been less hair-raising, but the car took Gunn’s philosophy of inflicting misery as widely as possible to new lows. Not only was it old, with gears that gasped alarmingly when forced to accelerate, but it seemed to have adopted its owner’s carefree approach to little things like signals. It stank of putrefaction and cigarette ash. Nate would not have been surprised to learn someone had died in it.

  Gunn charged through a red light, causing a compact sedan to screech to a halt. He hurtled round the corner to a barrage of screeching brakes and horns. �
�Women drivers.”

  Nate dared to take his eyes off the road. “Aren’t you supposed to use a siren when you’re in a hurry?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Nate bit his lip. “The party was Aki’s idea of a joke. I’m not bored or anything, so if this is on my behalf, you don’t need to.”

  Gunn turned his head to grin at Nate. “Don’t like my driving?”

  “I’m surprised you’re driving at all. I didn’t think they had cars in your time.”

  Gunn snorted. “Your education is sadly lacking. I was driving when all you needed for a license was proof you owned the car.”

  “I’m no longer surprised.” Nate shut his eyes.

  A few minutes later, after hearing nothing but the screech of tires and the abuse of the other drivers, it occurred to Nate that this was unusual. Gunn was infamous for his terrible interpersonal skills, and Nate was a captive audience. He should be gleefully fanning Nate’s fears, not sitting in silence. “You’re weirdly quiet. What happened?”

  “Don’t want to spoil the witness by giving you ideas,” Gunn said.

  “You’ve never cared about that before.” Nate hesitated. “Is something wrong?” He winced. “Wronger than usual, I mean.”

  Gunn growled. “Don’t push it, Nate.”

  “What? I’m just saying. You’re normally a lot more abrasive.”

  “I figured I’d go easy on you.” Gunn’s mouth soured. “After all, the last time you saw me, I wasn’t exactly myself.”

  Nate stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Jesus, Nate, do I have to spell it out?” Gunn threw his hands up. The car, with no one steering it, lurched dramatically. “You saw the lemur.”

  Nate shivered. A month later, the feeling of sheer terror enfolding him was still very near. He remembered the gaping mouth of the…thing…as it stretched out, all hunger and death. He’d dropped his gaze in the hopes that not looking at it would make it less, but not being able to see it gave its approach the horrible certainty of a nightmare—a living nightmare he couldn’t escape. All around him, the werewolves had whined, rolling eyes and baring teeth until their nerves failed them, and they turned and fled. Some had been too petrified to move, and stood shivering, their eyes fixed on the thing as it drew nearer.