by S. L. Eaves
“It’s a tricivara, I need to wear it to show unity with the Purebloods. It's a sensitive time right now.”
“Oh…” I manage, still confused but knowing better than to press him on it.
Vega pushes a button on the envelope and it springs open to reveal a screen roughly a foot in length. He taps the screen and a picture appears. He hands it to me without a word.
I stare at the image for a full minute.
“When was this taken?”
My eyes search to meet his under the cloak.
“Two months ago.”
“Where?”
“Soekarno-Hatta International Airport. Jakarta, Indonesia.”
“It’s not a relative? A doppleganger? Some sort of clone?”
Vega shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be here if we hadn’t confirmed it.”
I place the screen down on the table and brace my hands on either side, palms flat, nails digging into the aluminum surface as I study the ghost on the display.
Patchy suntanned features beneath pepper gray hair, his jawline dotted in whiskers. He’s aged and his face is painted in scars, but the eyes are the same. It’s him.
Years after the explosion at Beyond Bio, the events of that night still burn bright in my memory. The violent imagery shares a space in my mind with Catch’s death at S&D headquarters along with the traumatic events that took place at Trion years later. The trauma bank in my brain is no longer accepting deposits but it is making withdrawals. Apparently.
It has taken years for me to bury these memories; to close this chapter and begin a new one. It has taken a long time to see something other than agony when I close my eyes.
Now my eyes are wide open. Striden is alive. It's not over.
“Do you know where Striden is now?”
“No. This is the most recent location we have. We ran his photo in a database and got one other match. It is from a train station in France roughly three years ago. To speak to your point, it’s safe to say he has evaded the trappings of civilized society.”
“Jesus…” I step back and pace the grimy concrete floor while I shake my head in disbelief, “I saw him die Vega. I mean the explosion on the roof went off directly under him. It took out the helicopter he was trying to escape in. And he was in human form. I know werewolves are strong, but damn … we watched the news for weeks. His body wasn’t identified, but they couldn’t get a positive ID on several of the bodies given how they died. It took several days just to extinguish the fire…”
I fish cigarettes from my pocket and light one. After a few minutes of pacing, smoking and shaking my head in disbelief, I go back to table and stare at the photo. Vega waits patiently, arms folded.
It’s an overhead shot from a camera at a security checkpoint, but it’s fairly good quality and captures most of his face from a right angle. He’s looking straight ahead. Wearing a suit. Looking cool and composed.
He was declared dead. Prominent CEO of a large pharmaceutical conglomerate made for some juicy headlines. Him and his brother, Deacon, who carried the title of Senior Vice President, both killed in a tragic explosion at the biotech firm they owned in Los Angeles: the victims of tragic terrorist attacks. Authorities blamed the same group that attacked his pharma company in New York City, warehouses on both coastlines, and a hospital in England.
We knew better. Striden himself organized the attacks and leaked just enough lies to keep the media happy and just enough falsified intel to keep authorities from looking too hard. Safe to assume some wallets got fatter as well.
“How did you come to acquire this photo? Jiro?” I suddenly realize how odd it is to receive this from Vega, the Pureblood who wanted nothing to do with our 'petty werewolf feud' as I recall him saying years back.
Vega shakes his head.
“Malik. He has an active database of names and images; alive, dead, undead. It’s from his days working with Adrian. Using facial recognition, it’s tied into every major government database in the world. Any footage they capture gets run through our system.”
“Thorough.”
“Quite. It helped me find you.”
Well that makes sense.
“Have you alerted the others?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don't yet have his current location. By my estimate, if he resurfaces, Los Angeles is his most likely destination. That's why I'm coming to you first.”
“How so? It's the last place he was seen alive. Why would he risk returning to the states?”
“Unfinished business. Besides, it's not that great a risk. It's been years since he was declared dead. No one is looking. No one but us.”
“Unfinished business? You mean me? Or his work?”
“Pick one.” Vega gestures. “You, the one who killed his brother, here alone in a city he's very familiar with and may still have connections in, versus the others banded together in a heavily secured mansion - where would you strike first? And how sure are you that you succeeded in destroying all his work?”
A lot less sure than I was twenty-four hours ago.
“So you've been taking up residence in L.A. on my behalf? Looking out?” I smile as I exhale smoke from my nostrils. I'm half joking and trying to get a read on his motives.
“You know I tend to favor the west coast. It's really not a stretch,” he brushes it off.
“We need to tell the others. I may have killed his brother, but he has a long standing feud with Crina and the others all had a hand in bringing down his empire. If he wants to use his remaining years seeking revenge, we'll all be in his line of fire.”
I take out my phone and stare absently at the screen when I realize I don't have any way of contacting them.
“Not yet,” Vega shakes his head, motions for me to put away the phone. “That's not why I brought this to you. Yes I wanted to warn you, but if that was the sole reason for this meeting I'd have told you weeks ago. There are more pressing issues right now.”
The desire to drop everything and focus on flushing him out of hiding supersedes anything else. I can't see past it at the moment. But Vega came to me for help initially and I doubt he meant help with a werewolf that barely made his radar in the height of the war.
Shit. That was him baiting the hook.
I stamp out the cigarette in an old coffee tin that serves as an ash tray.
“Care to shed some light on these more pressing issues?”
Vega hesitates, “Why did you call me? What happened that changed you mind?”
He knows. I don't know how, but I hear it in his voice.
“Your presence in my apartment brought back a lot of repressed memories. Ever since that night I keep expecting to find you lurking in the shadows wherever I go. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t get your visit off my mind. The itch needed scratching.”
“Fair enough. And I'm sorry for the circumstances. It seems we never cross paths when things are peaceful.”
“Not your fault. Though tonight may change that.”
My phone vibrates. I silence it and return it to my pocket. Vega takes it as a cue to continue.
“Have you noticed any unusual activity in this city lately?”
I still can't shake the feeling he knows about the vampire I killed. But I'm not going to volunteer that information.
“Come on Vega, this is L.A. How do you expect me to answer that? You sought me out. You want my help, you gotta be straight with me. I’m not going to play twenty questions.”
He concedes, “A small group of vampires are making a lot of noise and it’s gotten the wrong kind of attention.”
“Humans?”
“Much worse. Purebloods.”
“They are breaking their – your – precious rules?”
“Yes. In more ways than one.”
He ignores my sarcastic tone, but scolds me with his eyes.
“Purebloods have been compliant with vampires existing as long as they did so underground. They respected t
he order, and they adhered to the rules we have about killing and creating.
“I’m not sure if it started with one or several, but there’s a group of vampires recklessly disrespecting these rules and their actions are spreading like wildfire. Towns are seeing an increase in mysterious deaths. And the vampire population is growing at a rapid pace. It started down south, mostly rural areas, but it’s spreading and it won’t be long before major cities like this one are seeing headline worthy attacks.
“Purebloods have always been able to control this in the past. They find one or two rogues disobeying their laws and they make an example out of them - the kind of example that makes a vampire think twice about rebelling.”
“But this time it’s gotten out of hand?”
“Basically, yes. Or it's getting. Most Purebloods view vampires as a failed experiment; a half demon, half human monstrosity. We've spoken about this before, I know, but I feel recent events warrant more backstory. You see, Adrian and I never felt that way. We started The Covenant, we built a society around vampirism and oversaw it to an extent. But things evolved over time, for better or worse, and events over the past century, mainly the fire and werewolf war, changed things significantly.
“Vampires proved themselves useful in the war. And with so few vampires left, your kind has stayed off the Pureblood's radar. They didn't feel the need to take action.”
“We kept werewolves off their doorsteps for years. We –”
“But that was then and this is now. Things have taken a drastic turn in light of recent events.” His tone harshens as he cuts me down form the soapbox I was about to step on to.
“So what’s that mean for us?”
“They want all vampires eliminated.”
“Oh,” I look back down at the tablet, the screen has gone dark. “So this isn’t a good news, bad news situation. This is a bad news, worse news themed meeting.”
Vega offers a thin smile. “Sorry.”
“And you're here to what, give me a running start?”
“No, I want your help eliminating the rebels.”
“My help? You remember Alaska right? I wasn't the vampire killer Marcus claimed me to be. What makes you think I'm the one for the job?”
Vega smiles, his eyes gleam from under the hood. “You've killed vampires, werewolves, demons, humans...you don't discriminate by species. That's a good start. How do I know you're the one for the job? This training facility. The anger in your eyes. The gun in your back. The events of last night. The fact that you’re here right now and not playing barkeep with humans. Pick one.”
I open my mouth then close it, lost for words. He has been following me.
“Last night, that was—”
He raises his hand. The extent of his omnipresence is hard even for someone like me to grasp.
“You're restless. You hate the bloodlust as much as you love it. You just have to stop hating yourself long enough to embrace who you are.”
Whether he's right or wrong about me, it bothers me that he presumes to know me better than I know myself. And his tone implies he's all too familiar with my behavior. Like explaining addiction to a fellow addict. As if he has all the answers.
“You're infinitely more powerful than me, Vega. Why not just do this yourself?”
He pulls back his hood. And I see up close how much he's aged. He looks frail.
“It's an act. My mind is strong, my body is not. It hasn't been for some time now.”
I realize he's leaning on the table for support.
“And soon the mind will slip too. Time takes us all eventually, Lori. And my time in this world is nearing an end.”
“Is this...is this like what happened to Adrian? Marcus and Crina saw him towards the end, said he wasn't the same. That he was losing his mind. They weren't sure what was happening to him.”
“Even us pureblooded demons have our limitations. We both know immortality is an illusion.”
“I'm sorry Vega. Is there anything I can do to help? You I mean, not with this rebel problem.”
“Possibly. One battle at a time. There's another reason I've been keeping an eye on you.”
I fold my arms and tilt my head expectantly.
“You are – were – a prime suspect. Given the rebellious nature of the attacks, their location...the Purebloods suspected you were behind this recent movement. I insisted they let me investigate and had it been you I was supposed to handle it.”
“That sounds about right. I'm used to getting blamed for shit I don't do.”
“I knew it wasn't you, but I thought you might have some information given that several attacks happened in your neighborhood.”
Shaking my head, “Last night was my first encounter with another vampire in years. A few dead bodies turn up in alleys and I don't immediately assume vampires. Humans got enough problems with their own kind. I don’t pay it much mind. I’m not running around at night like some vigilante trying to be their hero.”
Vega nods and continues. “Since it's not you and knowing what side you're on, at least in the sense that you aren’t trying to organize an uprising...I'm hoping you'll help me. Help us.”
“Help the Purebloods stop the spread of vampirism? Kill my own, kill their creation? As much as I don't relish the idea of people being killed and fed on and turned, I tried to help humans before and it didn't go so well as you might recall. The best way I can help either side is to stay the hell away from everyone involved. I'm not volunteering to become a Pureblood foot soldier. The only side I'm on is my own.”
“I don't believe that. Your past actions, including those as recently as last night, say otherwise.”
He’s got me there. I do care more than I want him to know. And I’m not about to let him exploit my compassion for his cause.
“Then maybe I'm just tired of being used.”
“You do this, it can be your way, your terms. The Purebloods just want it stopped. They don't care how. We need to put a stop to them, Lori. How many more attacks have to happen before this becomes a movement humans can't ignore or write off as fanatics? Cult leaders? We're at dozens now. In weeks it could be hundreds. In months...”
“I get it.”
“Do you? Can you imagine how humans will take a threat of that magnitude? It would be nothing short of the apocalypse.”
“That seems a bit dramatic Vega. Can newbie vamps even turn others? Are they even strong enough? You just need to find the one who sired them, find whoever is doing the turning. Cut off the head. New vampires are weak, confused...they rely heavily on their maker.”
“We think it is likely a first or second generation vampire who put this into motion. I need your help flushing him...or her...out.”
I fish out another cigarette, digesting this information. Striden resurfacing does seem a lot less important now.
“And if this movement isn't stopped, the Purebloods are going to opt for mass extermination?”
“It's likely. I figure you more than anyone can appreciate the tough position I'm in here. I'm trying to do what I can to make things right with the time I have left. And this will give you a chance to go after Striden. You do this for me, I'll help you find Striden.”
Last night’s events weigh heavy on my mind. It wasn’t that I jumped at the chance to take out the vampire, it’s that in that moment I did what came naturally. Instinct prevailed. It felt like the right thing to do. And I'm not someone who gets to enjoy doing the right thing very often. So yes, I’d do it again if given the chance. And apparently I will.
“Okay. Just know that you sitting on this Striden knowledge isn't winning you any points in the trust department. We both know you're being very cautious on what you're disclosing here. I'll play along for the time being. Partly because you had my back when Marcus threw me under the bus. Mostly because you aren't giving me much choice. But I expect full disclosure moving forward.”
He nods. “I want to earn your trust, Lori. And after Trion, I consider us even. You don't owe
me any favors.”
“What do the others know? The clan – have you spoken to them about this?”
It is Vega's turn to hesitate.
“I'm going to need you to help me get them on board, too. It's Crina's clan now and she doesn't care much for me, to put it mildly. If I ask her to go after vampires, how do you think she'll react?”
“Same way she'll react to me asking. Not fucking well.”
I tap the screen and Striden's image appears.
“Before I start hunting down vampires, I want to make the trip oversees. I'm not leaving them in the dark. I learned that lesson the hard way in the past. If this situation is as big as you fear, we'll need their help. All of them.
“And you need to tell them everything you told me. It's the only way we'll be able to sway them. They need to understand how much of a threat these new vampires are posing to our existence.”
“Deal.”
Chapter 7
We wait at the gate until the car's taillights disappear from sight. Vega had spent much of the flight to London dodging my questions about his past and offering vague antidotal responses to my prodding about the Purebloods. It would have been irritating had I been more invested. As it stands, I remain sufficiently distracted by Striden's resurfacing. To the point where Vega had grown weary of my insisting he recount everything he'd uncovered about him, which wasn't much, numerous times over the course of the trip.
I press the buzzer at the gate. It's taller and more ominous than I remember. It's flanked by stone walls lined with spikes and cameras. And they're the defenses you can see. Short of a small army, no one gets close to the mansion without an invitation. I offer a coy smile and wave at the nearest camera.
Nothing. After a moment I buzz again. Vega pulls his hood back and nods at the cameras.
“They're expecting us right? Did you call them?” I ask him.
“I haven't had luck reaching Malik, but I left Rex a message that we were enroute. I think he's at the mansion. Quinn and Dade have been touring the world the past few years, so I doubt they're around.”
