by Amos Cassidy
Green
“Have you been in contact with any supernatural being other than Thistle and the pack wolves?”
“I bloody don’t know do I?” she snapped.
The light flashed from green to red, back to green, then settled on amber.
Richard looked confused, glancing at Raven. Raven shrugged.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. It could be that your answer was also a question.”
“Look, I’m not sure what you’re trying to achieve but I can tell you that until Friday night I knew nothing about the supernatural community. I knew nothing about my own abilities. I was happy being just a regular, human woman and if you have a machine that could erase the past few days then I would gladly take a whirl in it.”
Raven stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Rose. We have to be sure that you are who you say you are, that you haven’t been sent by someone else, or being used or controlled by someone else, and frankly we’ve never come across anything like you.”
“What do you mean? You think that it’s more than a coincidence that that demon targeted me, those wolves had a mission?” she shook her head. “Thistle said there had been demon attacks across the city and those wolves…well, maybe they just liked the scent of me or something.” Even as she said it she knew she was being naive. She had stared into that demon’s eyes, had seen the look of single-minded intent on those wolves’ faces. Deep down she knew it was her they had wanted.
“It’s too much of a coincidence.” Raven said.
She was silent for a moment as she allowed herself to process the fact that there was something out there trying to get at her. She nodded. “What am I going to do?” When she looked up, her eyes were moist. “I don’t know what I am. I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I don’t know why these things are after me.” She spoke softly, her voice cracking.
The light turned green.
“Get her out of there.” Richard said softly.
Raven nodded. “Don’t worry, Rose. We’ll figure it out.
23.
THREE VAMPIRES ON A ROOF
Jeremiah, head of the vampire colony, regarded Thistle with a stern expression. “Rose is being questioned. I have told you this at least ten times now.”
Jeremiah was old in both age and appearance. A vampire holds a youthful appearance until its final years. When the fade out approaches, approximately the last fifty years of a vampire’s life, the aging process begins. Time etches its lines on the face and its grey colours paint the hair. It has its own beauty, elegance, a sign of wisdom, an indication of the preparation of being in the arms of the Goddess of the Moon.
“I’m just so worried.” Thistle paced the rooftop of the flats, home of the vampire colony. “She must be terrified.”
Gabriel stepped into her path. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
He was the new guy from New York, dressed in figure-hugging black jeans and a form-fitting knit polo shirt, standing six-feet in height. His hair was a deep chocolate brown and long enough to tuck behind his ears, the ends barely sweeping his shoulders and accentuating his sculpted face and perfectly formed lips. But his most arresting feature was his thickly lashed amber eyes. The outside wrapping was an obvious attempt to conceal the arse hole he was.
Gabriel was next in line to be Jeremiah’s successor as leader of the London vampires. Why he couldn’t be next in line to be leader of the New York vampires was beyond Thistle. She had just been told he was chosen and blah, blah, blah… She didn’t care about the politics behind it, she just wanted to know why him? Why couldn’t it have been someone less…pompous?
Thistle glared up at him defiantly. “I was protecting her. Rose is confused and doesn’t know what to think. This stuff…this power comes out of her while she is being attacked by a demon and it terrifies her. Then she finds out she’s a supernatural and this whole other world exists-” She broke off sighing in exasperation. “I was giving her time.”
“You had a duty to report any demon attacks to me or to the council,” Jeremiah said.
“And any unregistered supernaturals,” Gabriel added.
Thistle suppressed a sigh of irritation. “She needed time to process this. She’s my friend. I knew this would happen as soon as the council found out. I knew they’d come swooping down on her and whisk her away to interrogate her.”
Jeremiah’s expression softened slightly but his words were firm. “It’s for her safety and everyone else’s. She will need to be registered.”
“I understand the protocol but I could have stayed with her, made sure she was okay.”
“You,” Gabriel said, with a little too much vitriol in his voice, “were brought back here to be punished. You have broken rules, rules that are of the utmost importance. Your punishment will be severe.”
Jeremiah approached Gabriel and placed a hand on his shoulder. “She will be punished, yes, but it will not be what you are thinking. She broke from protocol but she did so out of loyalty, friendship and the regard for someone else. That is an admirable quality. And I respect it greatly. Gabriel, if you are to be my successor then you must learn a degree of fairness and discretion. However,” Jeremiah turned to Thistle, “it does not mean you let the guilty party off with a mere finger wag.”
“She should be banned from the wedding,” Gabriel said. “Taking away something she wants to do would be a fitting punishment.”
Thistle glared at him, wishing she had a pair of really big scissors to give that annoyingly perfect hair of his a good hacking at.
“No,” Jeremiah said. “Anthony and Jared are close friends of Thistle’s. It would hurt them all too deeply if she were not allowed to attend. I won’t allow that. I think the best form of punishment for you, Thistle, is for you not to sing at the wedding.”
Thistle swallowed hard. She had prepared a beautiful song for Anthony and Jared’s wedding, one she was going to perform. The punishment really hurt. But she knew Gabriel’s suggestion would have been far worse. Praise Diana he was not running things yet.
Gabriel sighed. “Is that all?”
Jeremiah smiled indulgently at him. “You were right in saying that taking something Thistle wanted to do was a good form of punishment and I have done that, without punishing Jared and Anthony.” He turned to Thistle. “I will hand your song to someone else to perform.”
Thistle hung her head, accepting the decision.
Gabriel threw up his arms in obvious disgust, eliciting a hard look from Jeremiah.
Thistle bit the insides of her cheeks to stop herself from smiling. Jeremiah may be old but he was no push over and she had a feeling that Gabriel would be learning that very shortly.
“You may leave us now,” Jeremiah said to Thistle. “You have been given your punishment. As for you,” he said to Gabriel, “seeing as you can’t grasp the notion of discretion or fairness, we will have a lesson in both later.”
Bingo! Thistle shot Gabriel a smug look before turning away from the two vampires and heading to the exit from the roof back into the flats. She glanced up at the sky. The moon was smothered in black clouds, the occasional beam of light shooting through a tiny gap in the mass. She hoped Rose was okay.
She reached the exit and stopped, turning to face the vampires once more. “Jeremiah?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“May I ask a favour?”
Gabriel looked incredulous, opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by a look from Jeremiah.
‘Yes, Thistle?’
“Could you inform me when Rose is released please, so I can contact her?”
“Yes. Now go. I will come to you when I am informed further.”
“Thank you.” Thistle inclined her head in respect then left the rooftop.
She wondered who would perform her song now as she descended the stairway. She hoped it wasn’t Sienna. Sienna would only murder it with her lack of pitch and vocal ability. Tears welled up in her eyes. She really wanted to sing
for her friends, to give them that gift. But it was done. Jeremiah’s word was final. At least she had the satisfaction of knowing that Gabriel was probably getting a lecture on fair and effective leadership.
She smiled, wiping away her tears. Now all she needed to do was wait to hear from Rose.
24.
IS ANYONE HOME?
His eyes were glazed over, his head resting on the glass and his legs out in front of him. He was lifeless and limp. The only indication that he was alive was his breathing, slow and even.
Raven didn’t know what to do. The glass box used on Rose was useless on werewolves. That was its only flaw. For some reason it could not read patterns, pulses and perspirations in a werewolf, so classic interrogation was the way to go in a different glass box– one built to withstand a werewolf’s immense strength. It normally worked. A rogue wolf would throw his weight around for a bit, mouth off and try and show he had muscle before breaking down into a blubbering mess at the hands of the Beta. But this one, this nameless and empty man, wouldn’t even get up. Raven had tried lifting him onto his feet, but the man couldn’t stand. No amount of threats or torture got a rise out of him. The rogue wolf just stared ahead with his cold, orange eyes. Raven briefly wondered if they would have had any better luck if either of the other two had survived. He shook his head. There was no point stressing about it. The other two had been dispatched. One by Rose and one by Harold.
“We have to wait,” Richard said from the other side of the glass. “He will talk soon once hunger and thirst become unbearable.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Raven said.
Richard shrugged. “Then we destroy him.”
That was the cold and blunt truth of it. If the wolf didn’t talk then he was dead. He had attacked Rose and violated territory laws. Silence was not a good way to go.
Richard had summoned the head of the warlocks, Bob, to cast a spell to see if there were any traces of magical interference on the wolf before taking any further action. Bob was on his way.
Raven walked up to the man again and crouched down to his level.
“Why did you attack her?” he asked, for what seemed like the hundredth time.
No response.
“Why are you on pack territory?”
Nothing.
He growled in exasperation. “Why am I even asking you again?”
“Persistence is a virtue,” Richard said.
Raven stared at the man, leaning closer to look deeper into his eyes. “Is anyone home?” He resisted the urge to tap on the man’s forehead.
The man shot up. “Home!” He jumped to his feet and started pacing.
Raven jumped back startled.
“Home, home is a house. I have a house. Do I? Yes I do. It’s a nice house, has violets in the garden and fishes in the pond. Has a clock. I love the clock…”
Raven looked to his Alpha who didn’t react. They let the man continue his pacing up and down the cell.
“Ticky, tocky, tick, tock…oh where is my bowl? I want some porridge. No I don’t. I want some eggs…I spilled my eggs. Maybe some…no, I want to go in the garden. Mummy! I saw a frog! Hop! Hop! Hop! My name is Mr Frog and I…I love Julia. Julia is gorgeous! I fucked Julia in my car once! HA! Julia, Julia, Julia, Julia. I love your sweet pussy! Come on, Julia! Get ‘em off, Julia!”
Raven glanced at Richard again. Richard made a gesture instructing him to wait it out. The man continued to pace.
“I don’t think it’s a house anymore. It’s a flat. Nice flat, nice flat. Fucked Julia on the couch and broke a spring. Spring! Flowers! Where are my violets? Who ate my violets? Mr Frog did, mummy. I saw him. I did! He was sitting on the toadstool with a plate and a fork, tucking in to those lovely violets! Thanks a lot, Mr Frog! You upset my mummy and she upset me! I’m grounded now! Gotta stay in and look out the window at the sky…don’t hate me, Julia, I didn’t mean to do it. I love you, fucking hell I love you, babe! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!” The man smacked himself hard in the face, drawing blood.
“That’s enough.” Raven took his arm.
The rogue wolf grabbed Raven by his shoulders and started to weep. “I got the carpet dirty! I ruined that white carpet! Julia loved it! It was hers! Julia! Julia! My sweet Julia! She didn’t like the violets!”
Raven held the man out away from him. “You’re bleeding.”
“Bleeding…” The man touched his cheek and looked at his hand. “Blood…” His face contorted in horror, and he screamed, a piercing, terrified shriek. Before Raven could react, the man threw himself against the glass, smashing his head repeatedly into it.
“NO!” Raven rushed toward him.
“BLOOD! RED! RED AS BLOOD! CAN’T LET THE RED IN! NO! RED! RED! RED!”
Blood splattered up the wall as the man’s head split open. His nose was broken and pouring with blood. Raven pulled him back but he kept shrieking, kicking his legs. He swung out and punched Raven in the shin, setting himself free to throw himself hard into the glass wall one final time. His neck broke on impact. He fell to the floor dead.
Richard was still on the other side of the glass, his expression blank, unfazed by the sight of blood splattered up one wall and over the floor. “It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have stopped him.”
Raven ran a hand through his blue-black hair. “He got free, I should’ve anticipated…”
“Enough. It is done.
“Shall I organise the clean up?” Raven asked.
“I will take care of everything.”
25.
HOT CHOCOLATE
The house was in darkness when Rose returned. The only illumination came from the kitchen, from which also came the sound of muffled cursing. Rose hung up her coat and stepped into the light.
“Where the hell…it’s like a bloody mini pantry in here…aha!” Roman was crouched on the floor, his head in the cupboard under the sink.
Rose stepped into the kitchen. “Hi.”
Roman jerked up in surprise, banging his head on the top of the cupboard. “Ouch!” He stood rubbing his already tousled hair.
“Aren’t you supposed to have super hearing or something?”
“I was kind of distracted.” He held up a packet of Demerara sugar. “Hot chocolate isn’t hot chocolate without it.”
She frowned, looking longingly toward the hallway. What she really needed right now was her bed. She was drained. She felt a flash of anger. Why did Roman have to choose tonight of all nights to go all caring and concerned on her? The last thing she needed right now was coddling. “It’s late.”
He sighed and turned slowly to face her. “I know but I thought you might want to talk about…everything.” He looked suddenly uncertain and vulnerable.
Rose felt her annoyance evaporate. None of this was his fault, and a mug of hot chocolate did sound good. She walked to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. Roman turned his attention back to the task at hand, extracting a saucepan from another cupboard and rifling through yet another cupboard for the hot chocolate powder. He placed the pan on the hob and lit the gas.
“Raven called you?” she asked.
“Yeah, he told me you were on your way back, so I thought…” He turned to look at her, his expression soft. “I thought we could talk.”
Rose sighed. “I don’t know. I kinda feel like I should be all talked out.”
He stopped fiddling with the stove and turned to look directly at her. “The glass box can have that effect.”
“You been in there?” There was a hint of challenge in her voice.
“No.”
“Well, you can’t possibly know what it’s like.”
He gave her a wry smile. “It’s always easier outside looking in.”
“Hurmph.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? It’s not your fault.”
“I know. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He stretched, pulling himself up to his full height. “At least it’s over. You’r
e one of us now, and that means we can really be ourselves around you now.”
“I guess so.” She looked sceptical, then nervous as another thought struck her. “You’re not going to start wandering around naked and changing back and forth into wolves are you.”
Roman burst out laughing. “Not likely. Besides, Erin doesn’t know so…” He looked at her meaningfully.
“Don’t worry– I’m not likely to let the feline out the bag.”
He nodded, turning back to the stove. He had poured milk into the pan and was now proceeding to gently heat it.
She took in his crumpled T-shirt, the equally crumpled tracksuit bottoms and the bed head. “You were asleep.”
Roman shrugged with his back to her. His concentration was on the hot chocolate as he made sure it didn’t boil.
Rose was suddenly overcome. She felt that tightness in her throat, the threat of tears. Where the fuck had that come from? Damn it she wasn’t going to cry! Her body, however, had other ideas as a choked sob escaped her. She bit it back, praying Roman hadn’t heard, and then remembered he had extra sensory abilities.
Roman didn’t even flinch. Instead, he took an extra-long time removing the pan from the hob before turning his attention back to her. Rose realised he was giving her a moment to compose herself and was grateful for it.
When he did turn to her, his emerald eyes were soft and warm. “Can you pass me a couple of mugs?”
“Sure.” Rose was glad to be doing something, even if it was fetching mugs, anything was better than staring into those beautiful eyes and feeling…what did she feel? She passed Roman two mugs and reclaimed her seat.
Until recently, Roman had existed on a separate plane from her, a different world. They had co-existed, simply living side by side. But now she was a part of his world and it meant that she had to leave parts of her world behind. There would be a crossover of course, but there were things she could never tell the people she would normally confide in. It should be Faye in the kitchen with her, Faye that she would have run too normally. But normal was no longer relevant. Although nobody had expressly spelt it out, she knew she could never confide in Faye about this. Thistle, Roman and his pack were now the only people she could really talk to about…everything.
