by Peter Dawes
“I think somebody threatened me with the rest of our lives if we made it out of this alive.” Monica craned her neck so that her gaze could meet mine, the expression on her face both bemused and yet, deadly serious.
A lump formed in my throat and I nodded, gathering her closer to me while the first rays of the sun emerged. They hit my skin, warming it and carrying with it the confirmation of what had truly happened to me. I was human now and could share a human life with her.
Light touched every building around us by the time we stood. The bustle of the city surrounded us when we wandered into one of the larger hotels in the area, pausing to use the phone in the lobby first , so we could check in with the Supernatural Order. I smirked and watched as Monica negotiated with the man on the other line, grateful when she nodded and indicated that all of our expenses had been accounted for.
“Regretfully, I forgot my wallet,” I said.
“Left it in your other pants, I’ll bet.” Monica sighed and rested her hands on her hips. “This better not be a trend.”
“I shall allow you to hoard my riches.”
“For now, I’d like to hoard you.” She stepped up to me slowly, arms circling my chest with her chin resting above my heart. I reached down to touch a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Lock me away for a year, like you promised. Make it two or three if you’re feeling really greedy.”
“For as long as we need,” I murmured, bending enough to touch her lips with mine. This kiss bore much more the teasing undertones of our more sensual trysts, and inspired the same reaction as any other. Entangled, enraptured, and enchanted, we kissed with all the reckless abandon of a bloodstained, sword-bearing former assassin and a beaten up sorceress. We barely made it into the room before our kisses turned searching.
The door slammed shut behind us while we fumbled past the entryway and toward the bed. She divested me of my weapon and my coat before I could so much as claim her gloves and as we toppled onto the bed, we pulled at garments and scattered them into the wind. “We have no other clothing,” I managed between kisses.
“Uh huh,” she said while nipping at my neck.
“No food. I believe…” I laughed, the sound sharp and mirthful. “…I might actually be hungry.”
“We are ordering half the menu for room service and spending the entire day naked.” Lifting her head, she smiled devilishly at me. “Maybe I’ll let you take me out to the hotel restaurant for dinner.”
Humming, I pressed our lips together again. “We shall negotiate that later. First, let us see to that getting naked part.”
“Sweep me off my feet, Cassanova.”
Pushing her flat onto her back, I smiled at the peals of laughter resonating from my beloved, filling the room with the melody of delight before the moans of passion overtook us. Both of us lost track of time and space within the throes of ecstasy, our eyes focused on the other and them alone. Our hands traversed skin, bodies merging and pulsating together until we both cried out in completion. She fell on top of my chest and I laughed as a cough escaped my mouth. “Be mindful, love,” I said. “I actually have to breathe now.”
“Isn’t that something?” she asked rhetorically. Monica fell silent, her fingertips tracing shapes atop my arm while her gaze remained set on the invisible patters she drew. For the first time since walking in the sunlight, the silence which descended between us carried a weight to it.
I perked an eyebrow, tempted to acknowledge it when she preempted my question. “I’m tired,” she said. “Not in that…could sleep for five days sort of way, but that kind where you’ve been kicked through a wringer and finally got your first chance to breathe.”
“Need I remind you of what all we just went through?” I asked. An arm wrapped around her, gathering her up against me. “We dealt with being criminals, hunted down and on the run while you had to recover from being stabbed by a stake. You were taken, only to be carted around and then locked up and continuously threatened with death. If you are tired, I hardly need to theorize why.”
“I know, I…guess I just try hard not to think about it.” She exhaled a shaky breath, her hand giving up the task of drawing in favor of falling flat against my arm. “It feels selfish for me to say what I did to you in the lobby, but I really want it. I want to get the hell out of here, knock the dust of this place off my shoes, and rest.”
A pensive pause filled the space between her statement and my response. “I believe I could use the reprieve as well.”
“Maybe we can teach you how to actually talk like a person again.”
“Perish the thought.”
She chuckled and I smiled, but the moment passed quickly, the levity fading and giving way to sobriety again. My hand slid to the back of her head while I lifted up enough to kiss her crown. She slid further up my chest, allowing me to bury my nose in her hair and shut my eyes. “For as long as we would like,” I said.
“Thank you, Peter.” Monica curled tighter still and despite the gnawing in the pit of my stomach, I found the tranquility difficult to dismiss. Instead, I turned several different thoughts around as I heard her light snoring. Even when I felt fatigue nipping at my heels, I still could not help but to relive the last few weeks and shudder at the recollection. My eyes shut, and as I drifted to sleep, I thought of a word. Reprieve. Yes, I determined, I could use one of those myself.
Perhaps lasting for the remainder of my days.
“
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”
Robert Frost
Epilogue
Startling awake, I blinked several times to knock the blur from my vision while peering toward the curtains. Reentering the world of consciousness did not bear the same level of discordance I thought it might; I recalled what had happened as if I had just stepped from the church mere minutes ago. Monica still slept soundly curled against me, and at some point I had rolled onto my side and wrapped my arms around her. The drawn curtains, however, blocked less light than they had when we fell asleep.
“Dusk soon,” I murmured, a small smile of irony curling my lips when I considered that my first day as a human had been spent observing vampire hours. ‘Old habits will die hard, I suppose.’ Unfortunately, other human needs demanded my attention and forced me from the warm cocoon of sheets and bodies pressed together. I plodded into the bathroom, grateful the aches had started to subside at last.
Turning on the shower, I spent a long while under the hot water, washing off whatever remained of the dust and blood from battle. The room still bore an eerie silence when I stepped out, but the rest of the world carried the same unnerving quiet. I failed to hear pulses or movements and stood with a towel wrapped around my waist, merely seeking out any signs of life and dumbfounded when none made their presence known. “You are human, seer,” I said, speaking the title without any thought given over to it.
Evoking it, however, made my stomach to sink.
A flutter of anxiety caused my heartbeat to pick up its tempo. Walking over to the mirror, I wiped away the condensation and drew a deep breath inward when I made eye contact with my reflection. The past few weeks of negligence had left my hair longer than I preferred and stubble framed my chin and lips from the lack of shaving. Everything else spoke of the man I had become, however, the fanged, pale-complected creature replaced with a human who yet bore the same color irises. The emerald green unnerved me, thoughts encroaching on me again and taking more concrete form as I mused upon reality.
As if on a dare, I lifted a hand, staring at it for a few tense moments before giving in.
The build of energy within me lost none of its power, and produced sparks before resulting in the glow which swallowed fingers first before creeping up my arm. I extinguished the light and stood in place, pondering the aura even after the bathroom had gone dark again. A shaky breath passed through my lips,
exhaled in staccato while I pictured Malcolm Davies and Kaylee Alexander. Even the fact that we had this hotel room bore the compliments of the Supernatural Order which made my involvement with them hardly over. I struggled to determine what that meant in the greater scheme of things. I yet bore my talents. Monica yet had hers.
I could always lie to the Order about that, I thought, claiming they had diminished. The question remained whether or not I could lie to myself.
It was at that moment – as I looked up to regard the man in the mirror again – that I realized what I had lost. I could not simply take Monica by the hand and waltz back into the life I would have lived as a human. There would be no stethoscopes; no long shifts at the hospital. Five years had passed and though their nightmare had ended, it left vestiges of the existence I had been leading in its wake. These hands had killed people, and a being with my calling bore the duty to kill many more.
“I do not wish to be relegated to hunting immortals for the rest of my days,” I said defiantly before turning away. No, we had given enough, I determined, and not a damn soul on the planet could convince me otherwise.
Emerging from the bathroom at last, I regarded my sleeping watcher – my lover, I internally corrected – and set myself upon the task of dressing. The dirty clothing left deposited on the floor reminded we still needed some means with which to tend to ourselves, which left this matter both closed and unresolved. ‘Simply lay it out to them, Peter,’ I thought, plucking garments up and walking them over to a couch on the far end of the room. ‘They owe Monica some means of compensation, even if not you.’ And yet, as I turned, the half-open door to the closet nagged at me, as if summoning me to look inside. I walked forward, turning on the light to evaluate its contents.
Two garment bags hung from hooks, one bearing the earmarks of a feminine boutique and the other the familiar shape of a suit. I frowned as I plucked the latter off the bar and held it closer to the light to examine it. All things considered, I knew better than to assume this had simply been left here by the room’s former occupants.
“Oh yeah, someone came by a few hours ago to drop that off,” Monica interjected, her voice raspy from sleep. She cleared her throat and I glanced at her in time to see a drowsy smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Gathering the blankets closer to her body, she curled into them and winked. “You were passed out and I thought I’d let you rest.”
Her placid expression made me feel guilty for not being able to return it. “I had assumed something of the like,” I said. “Rather convenient. I was just noting the state of my other clothing.”
Monica winced. “I think we should burn those outfits, personally.” The longer she regarded me, the more I saw something shift in her gaze. She regarded me curiously, then glanced at the bag I held. “Is it alright?”
“Yes, absolutely. More than fine, Dearest.” I flashed a disarming grin, hanging the bag on a hook and unzipping it. The lack of sincerity in my expression convicted me enough to revisit it, stealing a glance back over to her. “Might I still take the lovely lady out for dinner?” I asked, giving her a much warmer smile.
A look of concern evaporated, her expression turning brighter. “Let me steal the shower and get ready,” she said. “I’m hungry enough to order half the menu.”
“I was thinking much the same.”
Monica chuckled, stretching first before bringing herself to a tentative stand. She padded to me, clad in nothing, and I lost myself to the pleasant thought of how beautiful she was. As she craned her neck and rose to her tiptoes, I bent enough to allow her a small peck on my lips. “I’ll be out in a few minutes,” she said, pulling away and winking.
“My only regret is that I did not wait to join you,” I said, exchanging the wink.
She laughed and finally disappeared into the bathroom. As the door shut, though, I sensed a form of pensiveness settling on her, too, and sighed as I finally extracted my clothing and assembled together what I was going to wear. The outfit bore all the accoutrements – from dark slacks and white shirt with a corresponding dark suit jacket – as well as new accessories. I had myself assembled and in proper order well before Monica emerged from her shower.
We spent our time exchanging the normal flurry of endearments and banter, as though both of us bore the weight of something we dared not burden the other with. She dressed in a stunning cream-colored blouse and long skirt which bore the same color as my suit. I took her hand in mine, walking proudly with her from the room and into the restaurant attached to the hotel. By the time we sat, both of us had relaxed enough for our conversation to seem less stilted and rehearsed.
“Alright, fess up,” she finally said, after we had finished our meals and sat nursing a second glass of wine. She seemed to be occupying the same pleasant space food and alcohol had transported me to, our tongues less tied because of it. “I know you too well by now to buy this attempt at being perky.”
“Now, why would I be dour?” I asked. “I am with the most stunning woman in this room.”
“Flatterer.” Her smile broadened as she lifted her glass and took another sip of wine. “I might believe you if that prick in the corner didn’t have two models hanging from his wallet.”
“I only have eyes for you, my dear.”
“And you’re pegging my bullshit meter, sweetheart.”
With a sigh I only halfway meant, I took my own drink in hand and held it contemplatively. Another swallow slid down my throat before I had formed the words in my head. “I have no desire to sour the mood, beloved. And that much I do mean. I would ask you to explain your thoughts, but I have a suspicion we are sharing at least similar ones.”
Her smile faded, the upward quirk of her lips more subdued. “You still have all your powers, don’t you?”
“I only tested the one, but its presence suggests the others are intact.”
“Let me guess, the light trick.” When I nodded, her grin faded altogether. She glanced away and finished off her wine. “Yeah, that is a problem.”
“Is it truly?” I waited for her to look back at me before continuing. “They cannot force us to do a damn thing with it. After all of this, have we not given enough?”
“Peter, I wish that’s how this worked, but it isn’t. I’ve heard the speeches about duty enough to know that when we go in to Seattle, they’re going to have our next assignment waiting for us. Seers and watchers never have any down time.”
“What of being locked away for years?” My expression fell despite myself. I felt my heart sink into my stomach. “You cannot claim that was a flight of whimsy. It was a plea, and I heard it clear as day.”
Monica reached forward, taking my hand in hers and gripping onto it tight. Her thumb slid inside my hand and I closed my fingers around it. “I want to be with you,” she said. “Period. It might be whimsical for me to say let’s lock the door and throw away the key, but the important part is that we’re in this together from now on. I love you.”
A smile fought its way back onto my face. “Does this mean you shall marry me?”
The light returned to her eyes. “Absolutely,” she said, giving my hand a squeeze and beaming for a fledgling moment, the flood of sincerity between us its own entity and one I savored during the fleeting seconds that it lasted. As her expression dimmed again, I brought her hand to my lips, placing a kiss on the back of her palm.
“We shall figure it out,” I said. “But not right now. Tonight, I wish to be with you.”
“Okay.” She said. Tears welled in her eyes, however, whatever resolve she had summoned forming fissures which seemed to be revealing her true feelings. She withdrew her hand as though sensing it. “I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom.”
“Very well.” I frowned, watching her come to her feet and turn her back to me, retreating in haste as though I might see her finally collapse. I regarded her escape until she disappeared around a corner, attempting to figure out what I might say to her when she returned. Surely there was some hope left
to offer, some plan which could be made to avoid what had suddenly become a certain fate.
It was as I pondered this that I became aware of a set of footfalls headed toward me.
I might have dismissed it if I did not also feel the weight of their stare. My posture tensed, eyes remaining on my drink while I wished for my vampire gifts for the first time since waking mortal. They paused behind me and my attention shifted to the reflection of the interloper shimmering from the glass. A man, and one not able to have their thoughts probed when I made the attempt.
“It’s okay, Peter,” Malcolm Davies said. “I’m just here to talk.”
“Malcolm,” I said, attempting to mask both my shock and disappointment. The fledgling notion of us avoiding any confrontation for at least a short while gave up its final breath and perished, especially when the familiar man shifted out from behind me and took a seat at the table. I looked at him, unable to summon much of a friendly smile for his benefit. “I hardly expected to see you so soon.”
“I’ll bet.” He reclined against the back of his chair and folded his hands on his lap. “It’s been a while since we talked. In fact, I think the last time we had a chat, you were heading into Europe from India without explaining what had happened.”
This time, I did nothing to conceal the hint of bitterness in my grin. “Things moved rather swiftly, Malcolm. If I had the ability to contact you, I would have taken it.”
“Don’t lie to me. We found out what you were up to.” His smile disappeared. I felt his eyes trace me from head to foot and back again, the evaluation critical. “Well, I was going to ask if your feelings with regard to serving us had changed again, but I’ll admit I didn’t expect to speak to a human tonight. I think the question still stands, though, and you owe us one hell of an explanation.”
