by S. L. Eaves
“If you don’t mind my observation, you and Catch seem to have grown awfully close awfully fast.”
Crina’s eyes do not stray from the road and I can’t read her tone.
“We have this inexplicable connection. As though I knew him before I’d ever met him. And once I did, I…” Struggling for the right words to express my conflicted emotions toward the brooding Brit, “It’s been tough to stay away. I don’t like feeling dependent on him, but it’s like when victims fall for their capture. He’s the only real connection I have in this world.”
“I get it. I fell for the guy who turned me. It’s natural.”
The revelation catches me off-guard. But the casual delivery encourages me to open up further.
“Yeah, I mean I guess it’s the blood, right? Something chemical, like a drug. Honestly though once we did meet, it was like ‘hey what took you so long?’ Strangest feeling…as though we’d been together in another life. Ironic perspective now, I suppose…What’s your story?”
She hesitates for a long moment and I begin to wonder if I crossed a line by pressing the topic.
“I saw Dominique in my dreams before I ever knew he existed. Always as a figure looming in the background, haunting me. Then when we met, we carried on as if we’d known one another our whole lives. I told him of his uncanny resemblance to a ghost in my visions. He said he’d seen me in the same way, had been reaching out to me in his subconscious. Accused me of haunting him.” She grins faintly.
“Are you two still together?”
I haven’t heard his name before tonight.
“He died in the firestorm.”
“Oh. Damn. I’m sorry.”
“I should have been there, too. I was miles away visiting the grave of a mortal. Someone I’d known in my past. He died and I could never bring myself to visit his grave. But I needed closure, so with Dominique’s coaxing, I went. Eighty years without setting foot on my homeland…let’s just say my timing was horrible.” Her voice trails off.
“Or perfect. He saved you. Unknowingly, but from what I gather no one survived, right? If you think the outcome would have been different, that you could have saved him, you’re just torturing yourself with that ‘what if’ reasoning.”
Crina pulls the car into the darkest corner of a deserted lot.
“Part of me knows that. But I’ll never stop wondering if I could have prevented the fire. If I could have somehow saved us…I was immersed in my past, while my present was being ripped out from under me. Take my advice and never look back.”
She kills the engine and adds, “Catch is like a brother to me. We’ve fought side by side for two decades. He’s saved me from precarious situations more times than I’d like to admit. As valiant a fighter I’ll ever know.”
I nod. She jumps out of the car. “Keep him fighting, Lori.”
We creep along the wall of a shopping mall. Tonight is a new moon and, in the absence of street lights, we are naturally shrouded. Crina stops suddenly, a few feet from the door. She points first to the camera above her head, then to the security code box by the door’s handle. She reaches up and pulls the wiring from the camera. The little red light flicks off. She removes the gun from her side holster and begins attaching a silencer. I tap her arm and walk over to the grid. She watches me curiously as I bend down and pick up a handful of dirt. I proceed to blow it over the grid and Crina observes over my shoulder.
The grime reveals oily finger prints on four numbers. I begin punching them into the keypad and three combinations later the grid beeps and Crina eases the door open.
“Clever, but my way is faster,” she jokes.
“True. But anyone can shoot their way in. I’m trying to impress you here.”
Much like with the hot-wiring of the car, breaking into buildings is not a new territory either. Perhaps my past life experience as a delinquent will come in handy more than I ever expected.
The department store greets us with eerie silence. Our enhanced vision helps us navigate, but I still manage to snag myself several times on clothing racks. This is not Crina’s first time. She tears through the aisles with whirlwind precision; clothes vanish from the hooks, some making their way into her arms, some to the floor.
“Are there cameras in here?”
“Yeah, but they’re decoys. I shop here regularly.”
She tosses me a couple shirts.
“Relax. Try these.” She ducks into the dressing rooms.
Hell with it. I go right to the one thing I’d always wanted but could never afford. A leather jacket. The designer’s names aren’t familiar, but their labels look expensive. I select the jacket with the most digits on its price tag. Once I nab the most luxurious leather jacket the store has to offer, it is easy to steal the little things like tees and jeans. I also manage to find a pair of shiny black boots to match the jacket.
I am at the register fumbling with pesky security tags when Crina bounds over.
“Here, this screams you.”
“What, does it have college letters on it?”
She laughs. “It’ll look hot under that jacket.”
“Yeah, if I can ever get this damn thing off.”
“Allow me.” With one quick sweep across the magnetic contraption, she pops it right off.
Smiling, she hands me the coat. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“You don’t think much of me do you? I mean as a prospect—trainee—or what have you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Just sensed it.”
“Honestly, you have to earn my respect. And yes, I will test you. But look at it this way—if I don’t test you, it means I don’t care enough to bother.”
“So I’m worth it, then? I can deal with that.”
“Good. Remember you’re new blood, hazing is to be expected.” She stuffs a bunch of clothes into bags. “Your sorority didn’t haze you?”
“As hard as it is for you to believe, I was not in a sorority.”
It seems the outing has been a success. We pack the coupe’s tiny trunk and speed off.
“That was awesome.”
“That was nothing. We’re just getting warmed up.”
“Oh yeah?”
She points at my arm. “We gotta get you something to go with that jacket.”
Minutes later, we find ourselves standing outside a motorcycle dealership.
“No way.”
“This place has several keypads, so do your thing.”
The night is still and this area of Bristol doesn’t see much foot traffic after dark.
I hear the shrill of a train horn from somewhere nearby. I cautiously approach the intimidating glass doors. A few seconds later we enter a showroom full of beautiful sports bikes and ATVs.
“Catch said he was teaching you how to ride. Think you can handle one of these babies?”
His lessons had focused mainly on four-wheeled forms of transport. He’d shown me some basics, but I am no pro by any stretch of the mind. I don’t let that discourage me.
“I’m a fast learner.” I mount a black-and-blue Ninja.
Crina takes her time eyeing the inventory.
“You should pick by comfort. You’ll be repainting it later, assuming you don’t wreck it.”
After perusing, she chooses a sleek Kawasaki ZX-14. She grabs a couple plates from the back room, along with keys.
“Put this plate on for now and these keys should work. If not, you’ll find others in the back. They’re sorted by series. Helmets back there too.”
“What’s a vampire need a helmet for?”
“Bugs.”
I follow her instructions, choose a silver ZZR with way more torque than I can handle, and soon we are blazing through the streets of Bristol.
Off balance and shaky at first, I have some trouble adjusting. Ten minutes in, I am unstoppable. We cut through the crisp night air. As we ride along the river, the distinct sweet and salty aroma begs me to breathe it in. Every second feels like
my first and last on earth. We weave in and out, cutting through parks, playing chicken with cars. After a few hours of joy riding, we find ourselves clanking along the wooden planks of the docks.
Before I know what is happening, Crina is zipping full speed down a long stretch of pier, heading straight out into the water. When she gets to the end, mere inches from the edge, she leaps straight up into the air, flipping backward as her bike continues its forward surge right off the pier and into the water.
She lands on her feet, standing coolly as she watches her bike submerge before her.
I gawk from the base of the pier, my helmet partially raised above my head. She strolls nonchalantly back toward where I stand straddling my bike.
“Now that was a rush.” Crina is grinning broadly.
“You’re nuts.”
“You need to learn how to live, now that—”
“Now that I’m dead,” I finish.
“Now that nothing’s holding you back,” she corrects.
“Uh huh…”
“Let’s go retrieve my car.”
She hops on the back of my bike and directs us back to the alley where we’d stowed the coupe.
When we return to the mansion, I spend some time in the stables admiring my new toy. As it happens, the stables are equipped with a body shop and house an array of exotic sports cars, motorcycles, and even a couple ATVs. Access to a collection like this could get a less disciplined individual into some trouble.
Chapter 16
It is a crisp fall evening and I awake with the distinct feeling I’m not alone. Unsettled, I roll over to find Catch perched at my bedroom window, a statue on the sill, the curtain pulled back. The sun has almost completely set and he watches the indigo sky.
“Catch?”
He turns, regarding me with warm eyes.
“When did you get back?”
“Just before sunrise. I couldn’t sleep. Somehow I wandered in here.” He cracks a smile. “I guess I missed you.”
I sit up. “Four long days. Was your trip a successful one?”
“Yes, happy to report the mission was a success. The streets of Rome are safe from wolves again. For now. Will you take a walk with me?”
I throw a sweatshirt on over the tattered Sex Pistols tee I’d swiped from Catch’s collection. I’d acquired the habit of sleeping in his shirts, and he laughed when he saw it and offered to bring me more.
We stroll the paths around the grounds. Our trail is cloaked in ancient trees whose branches reach across the sky, illuminated in the twilight. I take my time soaking in the atmosphere. Catch is the first to break the silence.
“I know things have been…different lately, tense sometimes. Our dynamic has shifted since we moved here. I want you to know it’s not what I want, but it’s how I feel it has to be. I don’t want you to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I feel like I should, but it’s not even possible. No matter how hard I might will it. Do I trust you? Probably more than I should. Do I love you? I don’t know, but I feel something and it’s not hatred.”
Catch takes my hand in his.
“I can work with that. Trust, love…must be earned. Marcus has warned me about getting too…attached. He wants me to continue taking separate assignments so you’re not a distraction. He wants you to go out alone soon. But I’m arguing that we’re stronger together. Either way, you tell me when you feel ready and we’ll set something up.”
“Marcus may be right. I worry about hurting more than helping in the field.”
“The past few days apart, the way things have been lately, that’s been hurting me way more than anything you could do,” His comforting expression supplemented with awkward laughter.
“You know I hate it. Used to be only time I felt passion was during combat, now…you bring out a side of me I didn’t know I had. Very unnerving.”
He pokes me flirtatiously in the ribs. I mess up his already disheveled hair.
We walk like this for a while, enjoying a comfortable silence and playful jesting.
“How is training going?”
“About that…I finally got to leave the base.”
“That so?”
“Crina took me out on one of her hunts. Took me shopping too.”
I feel like adding that last part would lessen any negative reaction to the first. It doesn’t.
“Hunting? You went after a wolf? The two of you?”
“Yes. She did all the legwork. I just…observed. Are you mad?”
“No, just disappointed. I wanted to be the first to take you out on a hunt.”
“You still can, officially. I don’t think Marcus knows I joined Crina. And I haven’t taken out a wolf yet.”
“Ah well, good then. I’m glad she took on a mentor role in my absence.” He nods as if trying to convince himself.
“Regardless, it was nice to get out. Not that our ventures haven’t been fun, it’s just I sometimes feel like a prisoner more than a contributor. If this is my future then I want to at least make myself useful.”
“It didn’t bother you? Watching her kill one?”
“Not really. I mean I can’t say it was enjoyable, but knowing what he was and what he did—it seemed justified, in my mind.”
“Sometimes the hardest part is seeing them as monsters. Especially if you still identify with humans.”
“Well I am not about to go all cheerleader about it, but I get it. I’m starting to understand…and I think once I see these wolves in action I won’t have a problem taking up your cause.”
“Our cause.” He smiles.
“Right…anyhow, tonight I get to play with knives and swords and such.”
“Ooo, they’re trusting you with the heavy artillery. Scary.”
Laughing, I say, “Well I wouldn’t call fencing heavy artillery. They haven’t let me near the explosives or machine guns yet.”
“And if they’re smart, they won’t,” he jokes, running his hand up the back of my sweatshirt.
“The swords are made of silver…” I pull his hand away and he responds by shoving me against a tree. “…to pierce the heart.”
He kisses me fiercely, pinning my arms above my head against the trunk.
When he unglues his lips from mine, he looks into my eyes.
My gaze is defiant. “I am not the answer to anything and I cannot fix you.”
It had just erupted. Months of bottled-up insecurity.
Catch is not thrown by my outburst. In fact he reacts as if he expected it. My arms are still pinned above my head, spine grinding the tree bark. He whispers into my ear, pressing his hips into mine.
“Adrian believes you’re the answer, not me,” his words still hot against my cheek. “And if you can’t fix me, no one can.”
He grins shrewdly, his eyes more alive than ever; they remind me our dance has just begun.
***
Despite my best efforts to appear ready, more weeks pass and I have yet to participate in battle. The others would argue that I had indeed joined them on many excursions, but not having yet killed my first canine, I maintain rookie status. I’ve been an observer, often acting as the wheelman or weapons caddy when out on missions. Marcus has even sent me to clean up scenes after the fact. Covering our own tracks often takes as much work as the actual hunt. And it’s not nearly as fun.
Most of my time is split between the physical—weapon and combat training—and the mental—studying intel, reading reports, surveying targets. I log many hours in the War Room helping Jiro comb through reports of wolf attacks.
Catch and I do squeeze in the occasional joyride through the lush English countryside. He’s been teaching me how to drive, but those outings are few and far between. Vampires come through sporadically, replenishing their supplies, reporting on wolf sightings, then dispersing. Marcus has an open door policy for rogues. Even if they don’t want to take orders, if they come with information on werewolf activity or anything that may be of use, they are welcome to blood and a place
to crash for a few days.
The open invitation also draws in many vampires on the verge of demise. Many having received nearly fatal blows in attacks from wolves, slayers, and other demon predators I can’t quite wrap my head around. But I hear the stories. And I see the gruesome afflictions, the agony, the despair. It should make me less anxious to embrace the cause, but I want to help, to be a part of something bigger.
I wait—albeit impatiently—for my first official assignment. And the more I see, the more I learn, the more the hate inside me festers. I start to understand the cause and appreciate the sacrifices being made for it.
The two libraries, or “vaults” as Catch calls them, consume much of my down time. The most extensive collection of literature is kept in the main study on the first floor, while the rarer volumes, Marcus’s private collection, are stowed somewhere in the far wing. Marcus joins me some nights in the main study as I peruse the volumes. He tells me stories and helps me decipher some of the ancient works; he is a great teacher. Sometimes we sit in silence, drinking grain alcohol and blood over a game of chess.
I hate when Catch leaves on assignment. Not because I can’t bear the separation, but because I am jealous, itching to be fighting by his side. Their training, the constant commando mentality—it is effectively brainwashing me. Marcus assures me it won’t be long.
He feels I am ready and I know I am ready, but there are other issues to consider. Exactly what I’m not sure. Is he saving me for something? Awaiting word from Adrian?
One night when the team is out chasing a couple wolves through the streets of Dublin, Marcus challenges me to a game of chess. I join him in the library. Marcus does not often engage in combat. I’m not clear on why but get the impression the others feel he is too valuable to risk in the field. Believable, sure, but sometimes I wonder just how much of an asset he is.
Catch has said he used to participate in the front lines until Adrian’s reprimand—the careless turns—and that Marcus only joins combat when direly needed. I once heard him proclaim “he was too old for this.” But the rumors of his days as a vicious mercenary are hard to miss.
