by S. L. Eaves
I continue, “All I know is, Quinn and Vega helped me out of a jam back in the States. And that’s a big reason why I’m here.”
“So tell us what’s up,” Marcus inquires; he sounds genuinely curious.
And I do. I tell them everything. About the DIA, about the Trion Group, Brixton, everything. When I finish, I take in all their faces.
Their eyes dance with a fiery rage. Something new to fight for.
“Holy shit!” Xan is the first to react.
“Uh huh. So you guys haven’t had any intruders? No strange visitors or attacks on the mansion?”
“No, all quiet here.”
“That’s a relief,” I smile. “I was worried the mansion had been compromised. This group of humans, they have access to a lot of information about our kind. I don’t know the extent of it, but it wouldn’t hurt to be vigilant.”
“Which group of humans?” Marcus looks displeased. That’s the Marcus I remember.
“Both.”
I think about the tracker embedded somewhere in my body. The DIA is not their enemy, but there is a natural distrust between species; no need to stir the pot any more than it has been. Since I can’t trust Marcus, part of me doesn’t mind that government agents could track me here if they chose.
“This could be bad for us.” Xan turns to Jiro. “You still have that black box we recovered from the school?”
He nods, “The technology behind it is so advanced it’s intimidating, even to me.”
Before they had returned home, we took out a vampire that was terrorizing a college campus using the box to hunt unseen. That was a major violation of the rules that govern our kind; bringing attention like that is never beneficial. Especially when there’s so many more discrete ways to feed.
I was the only one who saw the creature before it died and what I saw was neither vampire nor human. I stayed back to learn more, leading the others to believe it was a one and done slaying. I wanted space. After losing Catch and discovering Marcus’s deceptions, space was necessary for my sanity, if not survival.
“But these are humans…this Brixton chick and her soldiers, they are human, right?” Xan asks, the mention of Brixton snapping me back to attention.
“Yes.”
“And you’re working for the Defense Intelligence Agency?” Marcus scowls.
Again, I nod, “With, not for, but yes.” Okay, maybe for, but it seems like the right response given my audience.
“So you’re a government agent of all things…working with humans. Humans that know what you are.” Marcus’s tone is accusatory. Clearly this is not going to fly with him, which means it’s not going settle well with the others either.
“Government agent? Really? That’s what you’re taking away from all of this?” I try not to sound defensive. “…I wouldn’t say agent. More like consultant. A freelancer.”
“They brought you in, shared confidential information, and put you in charge of an operation. You’re in it whether you realize it or not,” Marcus explains.
Again I think about the chip. If he realizes they can track me, he’ll rip it out with his bare hands. I don’t even know where it is implanted.
“Okay, so let’s say I am; what of it? I know I’m doing the right thing here. This group isn’t just creating advanced weapons systems to sell to militaries, they are hunting vampires. They captured several from Vega’s clan. Their leader is trying to become one.”
Marcus seems to be calming down a little now that’s he’s digested this news. “Well, I don’t approve of working with humans. I don’t like this DIA business one bit, but I agree this Brixton character—she sounds like a problem.”
Crina, who has maintained a look of skepticism throughout my story, finally chimes in, “I agree. No way I’m working with DIA, but you want us to go after this military company—Trion is it? —count me in.”
“Great, but hey, please understand I didn’t come back here just to recruit help. I wanted to warn you. Brixton has—or had—eyes and ears inside the DIA. In my talks with one of the DIA directors, he disclosed a great deal more than I expected any humans possessed knowledge of; for instance, he knew about Striden…For what it’s worth, they didn’t get anything from me. And to their credit they didn’t try. But whatever they may know, Brixton may as well. I don’t see her coming here. Not with all of her resources going into her work at the compound. But she’s going to be pissed I escaped; she may send her soldiers looking for me.”
“Good, we’ll have home field advantage if she tries anything,” Crina grins.
“Yeah, she brings the fight to us, it’ll almost be too easy,” Jiro adds.
I smile with relief; it’s good to have us all seeing eye to eye on Trion. I need all the help I can get. Before they can change their minds, I shift the focus.
“So how have things been on the home front? Any good werewolf stories?”
A collective shrug from the room.
“Nothing major. We hunted down a few packs in Europe, one in Thailand. But things have quieted down noticeably since S&D’s collapse.”
“Good; that’s good right? You guys don’t seem pleased.”
“It is, but it has also been rather boring,” Crina sulks. “At this point we’re pretty much reduced to targeting wolves who aren’t living as savages. The kind that stay in human form as much as possible, if not all the time, and live normally. The wolves who don’t want to be vicious killers, who aren’t terrorizing people or turning others; I won’t justify killing them just because of what they are. I don’t like it one bit.”
“None of us do,” Xan shakes his head.
“Well, I can’t say the States have been any more active. No outbreaks. Just a few random attacks made the news after we cleared out and I’ve busied myself taking out the ones I could find while searching for the source of the black box.”
“And you succeeded in spades,” Xan smiles.
“More like in the messiest way possible,” I admit.
“Well I for one am ready to call an end to this war,” Marcus states frankly. “I say it’s time we shift our collective focus.”
“I think we can all agree it ended with Striden, but thanks for making it official,” Crina jokes, patting him on the shoulder. Her hand lingers a little too long. And it’s not the first time I observe this newfound affection. Makes me wonder if I misread Marcus’s motives.
My train of thought is interrupted by Quinn and Dade entering.
“You bring them up to speed on our little problem?” Quinn asks me as she runs up to and hugs Marcus, then moves to Jiro, giving his shoulders a playful squeeze.
“You upgrade your rims? Love the new wheels.”
“You haven’t changed a bit.” Jiro rolls his eyes.
“Yep, still spunky as ever.” She returns to Dade, patting him on the chest. “It’ll take more than a couple explosions to knock me off my game.”
“We are all glad to see that,” Marcus says as he exits.
“It’s been a while since we were all under the same roof.” Dade is beaming. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him smile when he wasn’t killing something. “Feels like old times.”
With one exception, I can’t help but think.
Marcus returns with a bottle in one hand and a stack of glasses in another.
“I do believe there’s time for at least one celebratory drink before dawn.”
I never realized how much of his routine is an act, the charade he puts on as the charismatic leader. Once the veil is lifted, it’s hard to see him as anything but a snake in the grass; a cunning, calculating, venom-spewing predator. It makes me shudder.
Xan comes over and hands me a keycard.
“For your room. No one’s been in since you left. You’ll need to stock the fridge with fresh blood. If you want a different room, that’s not a problem.”
“Thanks. And no, my old room will do just fine.” I pocket the card and Xan follows me out.
“Crina and Marcus seem cozy; whe
n did that start?” I ask once we’ve put some distance between us and the war room, shooting Xan my best attempt at a coy little half-smile as I do, eyebrows raised.
“Ha, you noticed? I don’t really know, few months ago I guess. Just seems kind of natural. They complement each other well. And there’s a lot of history there.”
I think about Marcus trying to hide his panic when I linked him to the fire, and to the wolves. Does Crina know? His first question, I assumed at the time it was a question asked out of self-preservation, perhaps fear of retaliation. I was wrong.
I was so fucking wrong. This is going to be a lot more complicated than I ever anticipated.
We head down the hall and up the steps.
“Good for them.” I try to sound sincere.
I consider asking about Marcus’s behavior, but I don’t want to raise any red flags, so I throw the topic to him.
“How about you? Got a girl in your life?”
Xan would blush if he was able. “Nah. There was this girl that came through, Latina chica. Thick accent, dark features, mysterious eyes, but kinda nerdy like me if you’d believe it.”
“Your dream girl.”
“Haha, yeah seriously. We had a little fling, but she was just passing through…we’ve kept in touch, though, and I’m hoping she’ll make a point to pass through more often.”
Xan has a warm smile and kind eyes; he couldn’t be further from the typical vampire-type. He’s also bright enough to know this and uses it to his advantage, a quality I respect him for. The most dangerous enemy is the one you don’t see coming.
“So sounds like things got pretty rough in Alaska. How bad do you think this really is? This human-led operation?” His expression grows serious as he changes the subject to something more of his comfort level.
“Hard to say. They seem to be well funded and well connected. They’ve got men inside the government; they know about vampires…a handful of prominent scientists have disappeared in recent months. I managed to assist the DIA in preventing a few attempts at capturing them, but they’ve got enough intelligence to cause us problems…add everything up and we’ve got a formidable adversary.”
I stop in the hallway and place a hand on Xan’s shoulder, looking him in the eyes.
“I got men killed, Xan, good guys. Then vampires risked their necks to bail me out when I got captured. I’m a liability. I don’t want anyone else to die because of me. But I’ve got to try to make this right.
“I don’t want to bring you into this fight…any of you. I just didn’t know where else to turn. I’m not sure how to do any of this without you guys. I need my Agent Q.”
Xan grins, loving the reference. He hugs me. “We wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re family. You’re kinda like a lil’ foster dog we adopted that won’t stop peeing on the carpet and shredding our furniture, but we love ya all the same.”
“I give you Agent Q and I get a disobedient mongrel? Gee, thanks,” I tease. Xan laughs at my poor attempt to sulk.
He places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “…Get some rest; we’ll talk strategy tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Xan.”
For a moment I consider inviting Xan in. Not that there’s ever been the faintest chemistry or attraction there, and I don’t want to muddle our friendship, but I just didn’t want to be alone. Not in the room I once shared with Catch. Not with my thoughts. Not with furniture to shred.
However, in the afterglow the alternative would be worse, so in a moment of clarity and strength I close the door quickly behind me and let the room breathe me in.
Several wings of the mansion have been converted to hotel rooms or one-bedroom flats, if you prefer the comparison. Catch and I briefly had our own rooms, but that didn’t last long. We were inseparable even when, in fleeting moments of clarity, I despised him for what he did to me. Only to realize, much too late, that he was the only one who could ever truly save me from myself and love me for my flaws, even when those flaws sealed his fate.
I turn the television on, flip through channels absently, and then turn it off. I go to the little kitchenette and stare into the empty mini fridge. I take a dusty bottle of vodka down from the cabinet and pour myself a warm glass. It tastes like water, but it still leaves a sting in the back of my throat. I needed it to sting.
Out of boredom I pace around opening all the drawers, taking inventory of the things I left behind. I find an unopened pack of cigarettes, Catch’s brand, and his Zippo inside a drawer belonging to one of the little end tables in the living room.
The cigarettes are dry and stale, but I can’t bring myself to throw them out. I’m more surprised to find the Zippo working. I still occasionally pick up a pack, but it’s been months since I’ve had one. It is impossible to be addicted to anything but blood in this form. But it’s also impossible to contract lung cancer, so it’s no longer a guilty habit, at least not for the same reasons. Now I smoke to feel air in my lungs, to feel human again and, sitting on the couch inhaling for the first time in a long while, I realize I’ve forgotten how it felt. I’m not sure I want to remember anymore.
I reluctantly drag myself into the bedroom knowing I should try to recharge my batteries. I wipe dust off the furniture. The bureau still holds some of my clothes, which are a welcome sight since I’ve been bumming Quinn’s, and the top drawer has a couple of Catch’s shirts. His scent has faded from them and they stare back at me, tattered and torn like the memories I am trying to so desperately hang onto. The healthy thing to do would be to move forward. Lord knows, I’ve been trying.
Then I spot a little box, deep purple velvet with a silver latch. A box Catch gave me to hold something I did not feel comfortable or worthy of wearing. I take the box out and hold it long enough to be considered overly sentimental. For a minute I’m ashamed at myself for being melodramatic, then I realize I’m clinging to the moment because the memory it instills brings warmth I’d long since forgotten.
I pop the box open. Inside rests a shiny amethyst pendant, a gift from Adrian. I couldn’t be sure it was for me, despite it being in an envelope stored in the last place we’d spoken before his death; I didn’t feel right wearing it. It could have been for Catch as it was inside a gym locker and he had been a boxer, so there was that. But leaving it to sit abandoned in this bureau doesn’t seem right either. I place it atop the nightstand and make a mental note to pack it with my things before I leave.
Several hours and half a bottle of vodka later, I finally manage to drift off. I am hoping that being back home in my old bed will help, but it’s no longer a sanctuary and my restless slumber is marred by unease and dread.
Chapter 13
At dusk I wander out onto the balcony. It’s a small ellipse of stone and mortar. Vines climb the wall on both sides, forever crawling northward along the ashlar masonry. I watch the sky darken the treetops as it turns from a vivid indigo to a rich Catalina blue. It is a crisp winter night, but the cold doesn’t bother me. It feels warm compared to Alaska. You could see more stars in the Alaskan sky. That seemed like a fair trade thinking back on it.
A momentary blip of a vision hits me. It’s of my back through someone else’s eyes. I feel a presence along with it and spin around.
“Sorry to startle you.”
Marcus stands in the living room, hands in his pockets, trying his best to look harmless.
“No worries, was just lost in thought.” I step in from the balcony, but leave the door ajar, not wanting to part with the night air so quickly.
“I forgot you have a master keycard for every room in this place.” I tie my robe tighter and fish the pack of cigarettes from its pocket.
“I tried knocking; now I know why you didn’t hear me.” He gestures to the balcony. “Catch liked to watch night fall, too…You still miss him, don’t you?”
I light a cig, hold out the pack for him; he shakes his head.
“Can’t help it. Being back is hard.”
“Well it’s understandable. We miss having
him around. I miss him too, Lori.”
I believe him. Catch and Marcus were very close. Marcus was his friend and mentor and somewhat of a father figure to Catch, despite not sharing a bloodline. This is the only reason I still hold some measure of respect for the man.
Then again, his deception is partly to blame for Catch’s death. I keep waiting for Catch to appear to me in a dream or a vision and tell me what to do. Until then, I won’t lift a finger against Marcus. And if there is a bullet with his name on it, it won’t be me pulling the trigger.
“So I hear the werewolf problem is pretty much under control at this point. You should be pleased.” I change the subject and motion for him to take a seat as I flop down on the recliner opposite him.
“Things have quieted down considerably since S&D went under. If any of the ‘vaccines’ did make it to public, they either didn’t work or those affected have yet to surface. Time will tell.”
“I came across a couple in the States, working alone, no packs. Easy marks.”
“Good.”
“So you and Crina, huh?”
“Oh.” Marcus looks flustered. “Did she tell you?”
“No, I just picked up on it. You two seemed very close yesterday. And happy.”
He smiles, “It just kind of happened. Felt natural after all these years together. She’s great.”
“Does she know?”
His smile fades, features darken.
“No.” After a moment of silence: “She doesn’t.”
“You should tell her everything. Tell your side of the story. She may understand. May even forgive you in time. But you aren’t just hiding the part you played in the fire and in the war—you are hiding who you really are.” I fold my arms, reclining in soft leather. I’m trying to do my best to act casual, give him the impression I don’t consider his betrayal a big deal. But my insides feel like a pinball machine.
“What are you afraid of, Marcus? That she won’t love the real you?”
“It’s complicated.”
“These things always are.”
We sit in uncomfortable silence. I stub out my cigarette in the glass I’d used to finish off the vodka earlier that day.
