He couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh, I’ve noticed. And I understand. I do. I truly do. And I’m glad you finally see it my way.”
“Your way?”
“When I brought you here, I could only hope,” he explained, “Guess I should be happy you are who I hope you’d be.”
That didn’t make any sense. Why tell her this now? Had he gambled with her life? Had he brought her here not really knowing if she’d fit in? She had, but… what if she hadn’t? It then happened again; part of her still cared and another part of her didn’t see the need to waste resources on something that was of no consequence. She was there, it had worked, why bother thinking about the alternative? Why create feelings when there should be none?
“Well, I’m going,” Rebecca told him, knowing she didn’t need to ask for his permission. Leaving him in the bedroom, she stormed out of the apartment.
“Hey, hold on!” he called after her. “I’m going, too!”
The elevator door opened and the first thing Rebecca noticed was how empty it the main building felt. The werewolf hunters that had crowded it minutes before had gone. Instead, she found Alyssa with her back to a wall and Anton on top of her, one hand leaning on the wall next to her face. It was a very intimate position, one Alyssa seemed to be enjoying as she giggled happily. It was so intimate they immediately broke free of each other when Rebecca first stepped into the hallway.
“Hello, Ms. Sawyer,” Anton began using his trademark silky voice. The tall vampire who had tested her ability to remain human during stressful circumstances stood before her with his pale skin and perfectly handsome face. Like the rest of the vampire agents, he wore a suit, although it seemed everything this man wore looked better on him than anyone else. Unlike Dylan, Anton didn’t wear a tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top. Anton had once been a rich, handsome and influential human man; he was even more distinguished as a vampire. With blue eyes, flawless skin and auburn hair, he represented his race with pride. He was, as far as Rebecca could tell, the best vampire hunter in the agency. He was not only proud, he was also rebellious and arrogant; refusing to live in the compound like all of the rest, Anton lived in the penthouse of a building he owned in Manhattan, New York.
Regardless of his position, it wasn’t the only thing that made Rebecca uncomfortable in his presence, it was because it had been this particular vampire who had created Dylan. For some reason, he believed he had some sort of hold over her because Dylan had made her. Something between the protectiveness of a grandfather and the meddling of a father-in-law. All of this was beside the fact he had tried to kill her only a few months back when Rebecca’s abilities had been tested by the agency.
“If you’re not going to help, Anton,” Dylan began, interrupting her thoughts, “why are you still here?”
With a long smile, Anton turned to look from Alyssa, who rolled her eyes at the predictability of their bicker, to face Dylan. Alyssa quickly pushed Anton away to go inside Lucius’ office. Offended, Anton turned to them, “See? You’ve scared her away, as always,” he sounded more amused than offended. After a pause, he turned to look at Rebecca, “Very interesting entrance back there, Becca,” he started, “All bloody and dirty from the hunt, weren’t you? Intimidating. You do look more presentable now. Thank goodness for Lucius and his orders.” One more time, he turned to Dylan. “And no, Dylan. I am not going on your little treasure hunt. You see, werewolves are not my specialty and since I only came because Lucius demanded my presence, now that my counsel is no longer required, I’ll be on my way.”
Dylan nodded, “Good travels, then.”
“Or perhaps,” Anton continued, “we should have a little get together, you and I, before I part? I did hear a great deal about your partner,” he eyed Rebecca, “from Jacob just now. I am rather curious and would love to hear more.”
Rebecca had had enough. It was her turn to roll her eyes, walking right past Dylan and bumping Anton on the shoulder as she entered the conference room once again.
“Testy,” she heard Anton say before Dylan joined her.
The room had mostly vacated. Only Lucius, Grant and the two witches remained. They were all standing next to the table, where a paper map of Chicago was being displayed. Rebecca could see where they had located the bank by a red circle that had been drawn with a thick marker.
They all stopped talking as the two werewolf hunters entered the room.
“Will you be joining us, then, agent Sawyer?” Lucius asked her. “Not that I doubted it in the slightest.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Marvelous,” he spoke like he hadn’t just publicly chastised her a few minutes before. “You will join Dylan, Mitchell, Vanessa, and Isaac should any problem arise when Mr. Woods enters this bank.”
Of course Mitchell would join their little party; if only to avenge his dead partner. Although, wouldn’t he feel resentful of William? Wouldn’t he try to sabotage the entire endeavor? The director of the vampire agency didn’t seem to think so.
The director spoke again without making eye contact with anyone. Instead, he waved his hand and said, “When we are ready to debrief you, we will send for you, agents.”
With that, he and the others went back to the map.
“Let’s go,” Dylan whispered in her ear, “I can take you to Will if you want. While we wait.”
Yes, Rebecca needed to see him. Nodding in agreement, she followed Dylan out of the conference room.
There was no hiding the scent of werewolf coming from upstairs, but at least now it was permeated with the scent of a good wash. Dylan led Rebecca up to the second-floor hallway. On their way, they passed Dr. Steven’s door, the agency’s psychologist, the multi-purpose office that Jake Anders used when he visited, the room where Dylan had taken Rebecca to turn her into a vampire, and more before they reached the room at the end of the hall. When the door opened, she felt she had stepped into a motel.
The corner room had a view from two of its walls through large windows. William, his back to the door, stood dressed in a pair of formal blue slacks, a perfectly tucked-in light, gray shirt and a pair of black shoes staring out into the plethora of trees that surrounded the agency. He looked so different and groomed as he turned around to meet them.
“Hello, agents,” he said. His face looked tired, yet calm. “Are we ready?”
Dylan entered the room first, leaving Rebecca behind to stare at the young looking werewolf with unease. There was a feeling she couldn’t explain every time she looked at him. It wasn’t love. At least, not love like she was sure she felt for Dylan. It was more like the way she would have cared for a brother had her parents lived long enough to produce one. She felt like the big sister that couldn’t let her younger sibling get hurt in any way. She had never felt this sense of over-protectiveness with anyone before. Not until she had met Will.
If she thought about it long enough, she would remember Will was much older than she was and if anything, he was the big brother; only then she would remember how Dylan was truly another old man, too. She didn’t like thinking like that. Physical age was easier to handle.
“The director is working out the details,” Dylan told the werewolf. Rebecca heard a friendlier tone as the werewolf hunter addressed her new friend. Perhaps now he was beginning to respect him, to give him a place in his world. “They will come get us as soon as they agree on something.”
Will nodded, “I don’t much like the plan.”
“I know,” Dylan acknowledged.
“And I don’t trust the witches. Until yesterday, I didn’t know much about their kind. I didn’t know much about their magic.” He pursed his lips, “I’m not sure how I feel about it.”
Dylan reassured him, surprising Rebecca with his honesty, “I wouldn’t worry about the witches. I’ve known Oralia since she first started in her coven when she turned eighteen. I can tell you she is logical, resourceful, and reliable.”
“Glad to hear,” Willam said.
�
��I didn’t know you knew her,” Rebecca confessed, catching the attention of both men.
Dylan shrugged, “Well, we have had a relationship with the covens since before I joined the agency. If I’m not mistaken, Lucius began working with them since he first came to the United States… which was before it became the United States.”
“Of course he did,” scoffed Rebecca. It was little things like these, things she had no idea about, that bothered her the most. Just as she felt she was getting the hang of things, something new would be revealed.
Turning to look at her with obvious guilt, Dylan said, “We can talk more in-depth about the witches once this is all over.” Will’s eyes narrowed at their exchange and they both ignored him. “Is there anything else you need?”
William forced a smile, “Letting me hunt outside your building was more than enough to satisfy my hunger, the bathroom let me feel more like a human being, and this suit makes me feel ready to attend my own funeral.”
“Sarcasm?” Dylan asked.
William’s smile broadened.“What else is left on my last day alive?”
“You won’t die,” Rebecca finally spoke, “We will be there.”
The werewolf took a deep breath before starting to walk to the bed that stood in the middle of the room. Sitting down, he rested his arms on his knees with his head buried in his hands. “By the time the witch leaves me to go get you, I will probably be dead. I betrayed my own kind. They will be waiting. I know it.”
“Maybe they won’t,” Rebecca said. “You don’t know what will happen.”
He raised his head to look at her, “It must be a trap, surely. They had several trackers on me by the time you came for me, remember? Imagine how long they have been awaiting my betrayal. I was patient, giving Dylan information about their operation, but they have been even more patient. The fact that they attacked the safe-house instead of the agency must’ve enraged them. By the number they sent to kill us back there, they would have managed to destroy this compound completely, don’t you think?”
“They didn’t,” said Rebecca, trying to be more positive.
Dylan spoke, “Look, I understand why you think you will die, but Oralia will come for us. Rebecca and me first, then the others, and Becca and me alone can handle an army of werewolves.”
“I don’t doubt it,” William confessed. “I just pray you get to me on time.”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. The three of them turned around to see Josh, the human F.B.I. Agent that worked as Lucius’ personal assistant.
“We are ready,” he said simply, turning around and leaving the room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I THINK I’M going to be sick,” Will held onto the red brick wall that suddenly materialized next to him. They had teleported from the agency’s conference room only a blink and a half ago. The scene changed from the vampires watching him around the conference room table to the hot, summer streets of Chicago.
Next to him, Oralia, now with her long gray hair tied behind her back and wearing a black pantsuit that was more appropriate for the occasion than the dress she had been wearing before, said in disdain, “You complain? Next time you can do it on your own.”
Will looked at her through gritted teeth. Nausea passed quickly, but not before he decided teleportation was not for him. He was too old-fashioned, perhaps.
“Thank you,” he muttered just as he managed to straighten up, fixing his collar and tie in the process.
“Where is this bank, then?” Oralia, Will was finding, wasn’t just an ordinary witch. If anything, she was bossy; he feared age had taken a bit of her human sensibility from her. Or at least that’s what he thought, he didn’t know her long enough to make a fair judgment of her personality.
“It’s five blocks east, like we said,” he replied. They had all been there when the director had decided on a teleportation spot. Witches needed a mental picture of the place they were going in order to successfully move from one space to the next. Ideally, they needed to physically be there at least once before - having done so help them conserve energy and aim for a more precise location. Nevertheless, it was possible to do it by looking at maps and pictures of the place they wanted to go. It never ended well for a witch who teleported blindly.
“You know this city,” she retorted angrily, “I do not.”
“Okay, well, it’s this way,” he told her, moving his head in the general direction.
Bossy or not, Oralia was right, this was his city. This was the city he had called home the longest after his years in New York. After Eddy had died, Will had needed a change. The One had already begun working with the werewolf packs across the country and when his Alpha asked for a volunteer to take information to the Chicago pack, Will had quickly raised his hand. Since his physical age had always been a problem for every pack, it was easy for the New Yorkers to let him go and forget about him.
For decades Will wandered the streets of Chicago serving as the errand boy for his new pack, driving the car when they needed a driver, being a lookout when they needed one. That had been his life, and now, here he was, back in the Windy City and about to walk into a trap.
The witch walked beside him with her sense of superiority. As old as she was, she could have been her grandmother, although Will took pleasure in knowing he was much older than she was; not that it would ever matter. Nothing was ever what it seemed in a world where vampires, werewolves, and witches roamed under the shadows, hidden from the rest of humanity to see. It was a busy day in the middle of summer and the people on the street walked with a purpose. The bank was on the outskirts of the city, and yet Chicago had grown so much since he had first arrived, over thirty years ago, it was all part of the same Metropolis now. The neighborhood had felt crowded, dirty and unkempt for years. It hadn’t always been that way, at least not that part of town.
He had chosen this bank because it was far away from the pack’s headquarters. Will didn’t really care much where he hid the files, as long as there were only humans around the area because humans were safe. Humans couldn’t really hurt him, they just went about their lives not knowing about his werewolf problems. Humans were nice, at least to him.
The bank was small and between two other businesses. To the left a laundromat, to the right, a butcher shop. It was a two-story building that seemed to barely fit in its allotted space. Will could smell the difference between the air he breathed in the polluted city and the air out in the woods where the agency was. As he walked, he wished his dream would become a reality; he wished all of this was over, imagining a time when the vampires had taken him in, calling him one of their own. How he wished to be accepted by this race he admired and respected.
Only now, he stood on the sidewalk right across from the bank with the old witch by his side thinking none of that would ever become reality. Carefully, he took a sniff in the bank’s direction, knowing the wind carried all scents away from him. As much as he prodded, he couldn’t sense any sign of a werewolf being near. For a moment he believed his wish would become reality, after all.
“Red light,” the witch announced. Will jerked his head to the light signaling the cars to stop and the walkway’s little green man telling them to walk. Fear started to fill him with every step he took again; his hand went to his pocket where he could feel the key still there, waiting to be used.
At last, they arrived at the entrance. Oralia didn’t stop, even though Will wanted to turn around and run.
The inside of the bank was just like he remembered, with the cashiers behind those barred windows, the polished stone under his feet, and the executives to his right at the end of the small cubicles. As much as he raised his nose, trying to catch the terrifying scent of his kindred, he couldn’t smell anything. Instead of being relaxed, he became more stressed. It just didn’t make any sense. How could it be? Were they truly oblivious to his plan? It couldn’t be. He had had all those trackers, they had attacked the safe house. Something had to be about to happen.
>
Yet there was no sign of a werewolf on the premises. Only the nice and friendly humans surrounded them.
“May I help you?” the young executive in the cheap suit addressed the witch.
“Yes,” she said in the most courteous tone she could produce, “This young man needs to visit his security box.”
The young employee turned to look at Will for the first time. How he hated the way adults always looked at him and his youth, as if he still needed permission from a grown-up to perform grown-up tasks. When he had been younger and society hadn’t been so advanced, it had been easier to get what he wanted; unfortunately, as the times changed, it became more complicated to get away with some things in the adult world. Not even when he let his very few facial hairs grow did people treat him like a grown adult.
“Do you have your key and ID?” the executive asked.
“I have my key, but I don’t have my ID with me,” Will replied. He was trying to keep calm when he said, “When I opened this account I was told all I needed was the key.”
The executive took a good look at the key and, after staring at Will suspiciously, he said, “I still need an ID. For the log book.”
Oralia reached into her own pocket for a small wallet. It was more like a small pouch of some sort, made with brown leather. “You can use mine to sign us in if you will take mine,” she said.
The young man took the card with both hands and commented, “You come to visit us from New Mexico, Mrs. Paz.”
“It’s Miss, not Missus, if you don’t mind,” she sounded offended.
“I’m sorry,” the young man said. Then, taking a quick glance at the two of them, he asked, “Are you two related?”
“She’s-”
“His aunt,” Oralia was quick to reply. “And what is this? Twenty questions? All my nephew needs is to take out the contents of his security box. He has the right key, that’s all you should need.”
Werewolf Phenomenon: N.A.V.S.A. Series Book Two (The North American Vampire Secret Agency) Page 19
