by Lisa Olsen
“I’m sure they’ll come to you given a little time to reflect.” Ready to go, he opened the front door, holding it open expectantly. “If anyone asks, you’re here visiting for an indeterminate amount of time. Make up any kind of history you want, but remember to keep it simple. If anyone from the Order asks, flash that ID and tell them you don’t have your papers on you. That should buy you some time. Can you make it home alright by yourself?”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your problem anymore.” It came out harsher than I’d intended, my feelings just a little wounded for being shown the door.
“Anja…”
“I’m sorry, that was unkind of me,” I shook my head. “Thanks for your help, Bishop. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me.” As I passed by him to leave, I leaned up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His lips turned towards mine and the corner of my mouth brushed against his on the way down, sending a frisson of awareness down my spine. I thought I might see something in his face to indicate he’d felt something too, but he was studiously looking at the floor when I looked back.
“Goodbye, Anja.”
“Bye.” With a sad smile, I turned away.
“Wait. If there’s an emergency, and I mean a real emergency…” He dug in a pocket and came up with a card with a number printed on it and nothing else. “Call this number.”
I took the card, glancing at it before sticking it into my back pocket. “Don’t worry, I won’t be the girl who called vampire, I’ll only call if it’s a matter of life and death.”
“Good luck, Anja. It was… interesting meeting you.” His lips twitched into a half smile.
“You too, Bishop,” I smiled back, hesitating a moment longer. “You know, if you change your mind…” I held my hand up as he started to protest, “…in a hundred years or so, and you ever want to talk, look me up. Forever is a long time.” With a hopeful smile, I turned around, setting off down the stairs. As I reached the bottom, I thought I heard him say you have no idea.
Chapter Nine
Back to business as usual. Bishop took the bike to The Bleeding Hart, not wanting to be tempted to chase Anja down and offer her a ride to her place. Best for everyone if he got his head back in the game and went back to what he did best; serve the Order. The other members of the Jacari were his friends, the only family he’d known for over three hundred years. He didn’t need or want a woman clouding his mind or his judgment.
The reality that he’d already circumvented the law didn’t sit well with him, and he tried to drive it from his mind as he pushed the bike through the darkened streets of the city. The sight of the familiar bar helped put him in the right frame of mind. There he knew what to expect. Overpriced drinks, the mix of low key regulars looking for a place to commune, and the usual posers with delusions of grandeur. And, if he was lucky… a brawl.
The doorman knew him on sight and they traded sober nods as Bishop strode in, pausing near the entrance to take in the lay of the land. Scotty lounged behind the bar, idly scratching the back of his shaved head while he smoked and leafed through a comic book. Jarrod, co-owner of the establishment, held court at his table without his usual companion, his twin Leander. He didn’t seem to mind though, there was a long legged brunette offering a suitable distraction.
There were only a handful of patrons in the bar, but it was early yet, the place didn’t usually pick up until well after midnight. Those that were there largely ignored him, any that happened to look up and catch his eye rapidly looked away as if afraid of attracting his attention. Bishop was used to that, there were few vampires that looked him in the eye once they knew who he was. It didn’t bother him, in fact, he cultivated it. It made his job easier to do.
Mason waved him over from their usual corner, holding up two fingers to the bartender who nodded. “Ah, you made it. I wasn’t sure if you’d show up tonight or not.”
“I figured you had something going if you took the time to come over instead of calling,” Bishop shrugged, taking a seat with his back to the wall. Scotty dropped off two beers and he nodded his thanks.
“Well yeah, but… you didn’t have to come out here if you had company, I would have understood. It’s not a big deal. In fact, I’m a little surprised you didn’t bring her along. Why not mix a little business with pleasure?” he grinned and Bishop had to wonder - was Mason really hoping to see Anja again so soon?
“It’s not a problem. I’d rather get the business out of the way if you don’t mind. What have you got?” He didn’t acknowledge the mention of Anja coming with him at all. It made him think of what her expressive face would look like venturing into a real live vampire bar.
Mason took it in stride, well used to Bishop’s moods. He pulled out a series of five pictures and laid them out on the table. “You know I’ve been tracking Manolo off and on for about two years for those stolen chips, but we haven’t been able to figure out how he’s disguising the serial numbers? Take a look at these…”
Bishop leaned forward to study the pictures, losing himself in the job for a while as he helped his friend figure out where to go next on the case. This was the part he liked best, poring over data, sorting through the pieces until they fell into place. The physical aspects of the job were fun on occasion, but he had an affinity for the analytical side of investigation. For the next half hour he quizzed Mason on where he stood, his sharp mind turning over the facts while they plotted out his next course of action. Finally he relaxed, satisfied with the proposed plan, finishing off the dregs of his warm beer with a wince.
“So, tell me all about Anja.” Mason waggled his brows at him, holding up two more fingers to the bartender.
He had wondered how long it would take for Mason’s naturally inquisitive nature to bring her up again. “What about her?” he replied mildly.
“How come you never told me about her?”
“Because… there’s nothing to tell.” Bishop gave a careless shrug.
“And yet she’s in your bed…”
“How did you…? She’s… it’s not like that.” Hating that flustered feeling, Bishop accepted the new beer from Scotty. He drained half of it in one gulp, wishing for something more potent to drink.
“Right... Because God forbid you ever enjoy your existence for a millisecond,” Mason muttered, tipping back his own beer.
“I enjoy my life,” Bishop frowned, the remark hitting a too close to home after the day he’d had. Mason might not care about mixing business with pleasure, but he wanted… no, needed to keep focused. Anything else was too painful.
“Yeah, you’re a regular barrel of laughs.” A roll of the eyes was given. “Alright then, so she’s what… more like a sister to you?”
“Something like that.”
“Then you don’t mind if I take a crack at her?”
He’d almost been convinced she was just digging at him when she’d said Mason was interested, but had there been a kernel of truth to it? “Just how friendly did the two of you get while I was out?” he demanded hotly.
“Ha, I knew it! You do have a thing for this girl. Relax, Cochise, I wouldn’t horn in on your lady.”
“She’s not…” Mentally kicking himself for walking right into that one, Bishop paused a beat to regain his composure before he continued. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh come on, she’s the only girl I’ve seen in your apartment…ever. And you let her stay there while you were out, that’s gotta be a new level of trust for you. I figured you two must be pretty tight.”
“It’s… complicated.” That was an understatement. She’d managed to worm her way under his skin, and he was starting to think he’d never be rid of her completely. Anja wasn’t even there and she was still the hot topic of the day.
“Of course it is, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, buddy,” he snorted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, I’m glad to see you finally getting some. If anyone needed to let off a little steam, it�
�s you.”
“You make it sound like I’m a monk,” Bishop frowned. “I enjoy female companionship as much as the next guy.”
“I’m talking about more than a feeder.”
“Yeah, well not all of us like to play amnesia roulette with women like you do. When’s the last time you hooked up with more than a one night stand?”
“Ouch.” Mason laid a hand over his heart. “We’re not talking about me though, we’re talking about you.”
“Actually, we’re not talking about me either,” Bishop smiled, polishing off the last of his beer. “Do we have any heavy hitters in town right now?” He was a little out of touch with the social scene. It had been a while since he’d made the usual rounds, but he knew Mason and Cage were fairly visible.
“Heavy hitters…” Mason switched gears without skipping a beat. “The Cordova brothers are here, and Gilchrist left last week. Oh, and Kursik has been holed up at the Fairmont, remember?”
“Right, I almost forgot about Kursik,” Bishop nodded, mentally sifting through what he knew about the guy. He was a dangerous, influential man in any incarnation, and older than Bishop by a good century at least. He had blue eyes and fair hair… could he be responsible for turning Anja? His blood might be powerful enough to manage her abnormal readings, and anyone could throw around Old Norse with a little practice. Could Kursik be masquerading as an Ellri among the newborns? He would have to tread carefully in making any inquiries, Aleksandr Kursik was not a man to be dealt with lightly.
“Hello?” Mason waved a hand in front of Bishop’s face and he realized there was a question on the table he’d completely missed.
“Sorry, what?”
“I said, why do you want to know about the heavy hitters? Are you expecting something big to go down?”
It was tempting to bring Mason into it all. He trusted him implicitly, but it was better for his own protection to have some plausible deniability should things take a wrong turn in his investigation. “No, just trying to keep updated, that’s all. Listen, I’m going to take off, go check in with the office and get some paperwork done. Are we good here, or did you need anything else?” Bishop threw down a few bills to pay for the drinks and a decent tip.
“No, I’m good. Thanks for your help, brother. Give me a call if you get stuck on that paperwork.”
“Why, would you come in to help me with it?” Bishop’s brows rose in questioning disbelief.
“No, but I’d say supportive things like… you can do it!” Mason’s lopsided grin reappeared.
* * *
The Order’s headquarters were set in a big modern building of red brick and glass, surrounded by tasteful landscaping and a well lit sign bearing the company name of Whetstone Pharmaceuticals.
At that time of night there were few lights on in the above ground offices, but Bishop knew the lower levels would be buzzing with activity. Stowing away the Ducati in the parking garage, he took the elevator straight down to B-3 where the underground labs were.
Luck was with him, as Jenessa was in her office, the top of her pale braid visible as she bent over an assortment of hard bound books on her desk.
“You know, they have these amazing new things, they’re called computers…” Bishop teased from the doorway, having a soft spot in his heart for the doctor. In a sisterly way, he had no romantic designs on the pretty blonde.
“You more than anyone should know the temptation of books.” She gave him a radiant smile, leaning back from her studies. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Bishop. What brings you down to my level?”
“I thought maybe you could help me with a case I’m working on.” He withdrew the monitor from his pocket and set it on the corner of her desk.
“Is your scanner broken? You know Trick can fix that for you a lot faster than I can.”
“No, it’s not broken. I was wondering what you can tell me about the bloodline. Can you trace the genetic markers and help me pinpoint her origins?” It was a long shot, but technology continually surprised him in that day and age.
Jenessa picked up the device, studying the readings dubiously. “From this? I’m good, but I’m not that good. Can you get me a bigger sample?”
That would mean seeing Anja again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to call any more attention to her from the organization than strictly necessary. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Why do you need to know? I find it hard to believe you’re not capable of putting your considerable charms to use in getting the answer you want straight from the source.” She meant his skill with intimidation, not his charm, and Bishop shook his head.
“It’s sort of a… delicate situation. There isn’t a formal investigation going.”
“Oh, I see,” she nodded, handing over the scanner. “With a vampire that old, I can see how you’d want to proceed with care. But I can be discreet if need be. I won’t need to see her, just a sample of her blood if you can obtain it,” Jenessa offered.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” he nodded, pocketing the device and turning away, but her voice called him back.
“Bishop, are you alright?” Her head canted to one side as she studied him.
Did it show? He had to pull it together before he had every member of the team asking him about his feelings for chrissakes. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he shrugged, retreating before he did something else to set off her radar - or worse, sit down and tell her the whole disturbing business. Bishop managed to resist the urge to share, deciding he would take the rest of the night off to shake the unpleasant emotions free of his system instead of going out to hunt.
One step back in his apartment and he knew that was a mistake.
Anja’s subtle presence could still be felt in the apartment from the short time she’d stayed there. From the used glass in the sink, to the golden strands of hair on the back of the couch, and the rumpled sheets on his bed; even the air felt different. Lifting a pillow to his nose, he realized he could still smell her unique scent imprinted on the fabric… there would be no sleeping in that bed until he had a chance to strip the bedding.
Focusing on the things he could control, Bishop went through the chores of reclaiming his apartment. Stripping the bed, he set the sheets to wash and vacuumed off the back of the couch and under the cushions for good measure. He washed the single dirty glass and replaced it in the cupboard. There was still plenty of night left, so he methodically cleaned his array of weapons, whether they needed it or not, until he was satisfied with the results. It was too bad he couldn’t call Mason over to spar for a while. That would have been a good way to get rid of his excess energy, but then he’d have to explain why Anja wasn’t there. Even her absence intruded into his thoughts.
Accepting that no matter how he tried to fill the hours, his mind kept returning him to a certain young blonde, Bishop resolved to chase her memory away with another. Retrieving a carved cherrywood box from the top of his closet, he set it on the table, staring at the closed lid. Without opening it, he rose and poured himself a glass of wine, a deep burgundy from Lyon. Swirling the wine in the goblet, Bishop glanced at the small chest, unsure if he wanted to awaken that particular ghost of the past.
He found himself sitting in front of the grand piano, frowning at the bottom of his glass. It was impossible to think of Carys and not think of the music. He could see the light marks of fingers on the glossy piano - did Anja play? He knew she attended a school for fine arts, but not much more than that. Bishop opened the fallboard, revealing the keys. Even after all this time he could hear the music, and his fingers itched to play the way he had played for her. Would they still remember all the notes? Fingers arched, they found their home at middle C, hovering there for long seconds before the overwhelming sense of loss suffused him, and he closed the door to those memories before they could claim him again.
Chapter Ten
One good thing about being a vampire, I didn’t get tired at all walking uphill on the way home. Despite telling Bishop I could make it home
fine, I didn’t have my purse or phone with me, so catching the bus or calling a friend for a ride was out of the question. I thought about catching a cab, but the stroll was refreshing, and helped clear my head.
I wasn’t really sure what Bishop’s deal was, but I wasn’t the type of girl to grab him and plant a kiss on him to prove there was a spark between us. Nor was I the type to stand outside his window with a boombox over my head. I was plenty used to unrequited crushes, if not outright rejection, though that was rare because I never put myself out there to get turned down. Convinced I’d likely never see him again, I set off to reclaim my life the way it was before waking up in the morgue.
I wasn’t sure what to expect when I got home. The last time I’d seen Bridget, I’d been attached to her hand by the mouth, using her like my own private juice box. Though Bishop had promised me he’d taken care of it, I had no idea what that actually entailed. Had he wiped her memory and sent her to bed? I was afraid she’d react to me with fear based on some visceral level that knew I’d attacked her, but all I got was a broad wink when I walked through the door.
“Someone had a good time last night. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“What? No, it wasn’t like that.”
“Don’t give me that, I saw the guy. What did the two of you get up to after I went out on my date?”
I wasn’t even sure she’d gone on the date; she’d been in her room when I went out the window the night before. God, was it really only the night before? “Nothing, we just talked.” Not a lie…
“Oh come on, what a waste of perfectly good man meat! Are you telling me you didn’t end up in bed together?
I had ended up in his bed… The memory of Bishop comforting me after my nightmare came back then with startling clarity, and I took a moment to relive what it felt like to be safe in his arms. I guess it made my face go all soft and dreamy, because she called me out on it.
“I knew it! Sinner…” she giggled with delight.
“I didn’t sleep with him, but he did let me sleep in his bed. He was a perfect gentleman,” I insisted, and her shoulders took on a disappointed slouch.
