by Peter Dawes
“She will when she notices you’re not flocking back home, and honestly, with her level of paranoia lately, that could be anywhere from another fifteen minutes to an hour. You’ve already been here for a while.”
“Have you been with me this entire time?”
“Most of it.” She flashed a small, apologetic smile when I opened my eyes to look at her again. “Sorry about that. I know this has been personal for you, but I wanted to make sure you were safe. You needed to let a lot of that out.”
“I feel emotionally exhausted,” I said, lifting slowly to a stand. Monica rose and together I and the much shorter witch stood still while I attempted to be steadier on my feet. From one end of the room to the other, I saw nothing but piles which had once been vampires, with bloodied weapons discarded across a clearly-defined path. The vague recollection of swinging them around only twisted my stomach, making me feel queasy. “I cannot return to the coven.”
“No, you can’t,” she said. “You’re way too vulnerable right now, Peter, and she could get her hooks in you again.”
“Is that who I am now? Peter?”
Monica motioned for where one of my swords lay, but stopped, glancing back over her shoulder toward me. “I don’t know. I guess that’s for you to decide.”
Nodding, I clung onto the idea of activity, walking toward an abandoned dagger and sliding it back into its sheath. Silently, Monica and I circumvented the mounds of dust, reverent in our procurement of my blades as if we realized some part of our actions bordered on sacrilege. I returned to what remained of my brother and crouched before him, fingers brushing the ash from his suit jacket until the glimmer of a pocket watch struck my eye. Moved by sentimentality, I snatched it by the chain and took possession of it.
‘Please forgive me, Robin,’ was all I could manage to think.
Monica assumed a place beside me again, bringing me back to our exodus. Handing me what remained of my weaponry, she assisted me to my feet again when I had secured those final pieces into place, guiding me first by my hand toward the back exit and letting go when I followed without needing to be prompted. As she held open the door, I reached behind my back for one of the sheathed daggers and passed it to her.
She took hold of it and raised an eyebrow at me. “What’s this for?” she asked.
“Protection. From me,” I said, walking ahead after speaking and leading the way out of Matthew’s coven estate. As a burst of cool air hit my face, I found the sight of the backyard jarring, something about the night taking form in a way it had never done before. The vitality of the world around me beat like a pulse, as if every human in the area could whisper their secrets to me and find me a willing ear. I became faintly aware of Monica assuming a place beside me, realizing only then that I had stopped walking.
“Feels different, doesn’t it?” Monica asked.
“Yes, it does,” I said. “Why?”
“Because you’ve finally opened yourself up to it.”
She nodded toward the back gate when I looked at her. I exchanged the gesture, still lost in the tumult of my thoughts, but allowing her to lead us onward. As we slipped out of the estate grounds, our feet touched a cobblestoned alleyway and followed it out to one of the main, intersecting roads. We headed east instead of west and when we turned, I raised an eyebrow at Monica, who sighed in acknowledgment of it. “I had to move. The last couple of weeks have been rough. I’ll tell you when we get there. For now, we have a hike ahead of us.”
“Very well,” I said, allowing the matter to rest. Silence settled over us, filled with more of that strange, unfamiliar feeling that the city itself stared down at me with more expectant eagerness. Five years of immortality flashed through my mind in waves of disbelief, like I had woken from an unsettling nightmare to discover everything I had dreamed real. I was a vampire, yes. Flynn. That was what they called me. The monster residing inside my body. The monster who was me.
“My head is swimming,” I said as we passed through a late-night crowd of party-goers, headed deeper into the Northeastern portion of Philadelphia. I avoided eye contact with any of them, aware of how armed I was, and once we had emerged from the cacophony, I continued. “I cannot make any sense of this.”
“What part of it?” Monica asked.
“Like I am peering through a two-sided mirror, only with different reflections on either side. Is this what it feels like to lose one’s mind?”
Monica chuckled softly, the noise we had left behind us fading the further we walked and surrounding us with the blissful escape of a neighborhood at rest. “You’re a man waking up from being possessed,” she said. “Do you see now what I mean about being manipulated? They brainwashed you so badly that even Robin had to be a part of the act.”
The mention of Robin made my stomach sink again. “He tried to rescue me.”
“Yes, he did. Not all of you guys are bad eggs. In fact, usually we leave most vampires alone. They can have a conscience, when they want to.”
“Is that what I am now? A vampire with a conscience?”
“Let’s crawl before we walk, kiddo. Worry about the categories later.”
Nodding in assent, I welcomed the return of the quiet and let it linger until we stopped in front of one of the row houses nestled in the middle of the block. Monica ascended a short flight of stairs leading to a modest porch. I followed close behind. “I promised you I’d explain this,” she said, reaching in a pocket and producing a set of keys. She rifled through them for the correct one. “I’m sure you can guess one of the main reason I switched safe houses.”
“Sabrina knows about the other one.”
“Bingo.” Sliding the key into the lock, she twisted until we heard it disengage. The front door opened in front of us, allowing her to enter first with me taking up the rear. I shut us inside once I had crossed the threshold, admiring the small vestibule which led to a main living area. While Monica strode toward the kitchen, depositing her keys in a dish along the way, I stopped shy of a rickety couch with worn upholstery, looking at it first before tracking where Monica had wandered.
“Go on and take a load off,” she called from the kitchen. “Promise it hasn’t broken yet. Just don’t jump on it or anything.” As she shuffled around in the other room, I stripped my coat, draping it across the back of the couch and beginning the laborious task of removing my weapons. One piece at a time, they settled onto the floor until it left me clad in just my shirt, pants, and shoes. Skeptical about its integrity, I eased onto the couch and relaxed after it issued a faint creak of protest.
The well-used couch was not the only piece of furniture with an abundance of character. A matching loveseat had been arranged perpendicular to the couch, with a pock-marked coffee table and an old, console television making up the rest of the living room. Boxes occupied most what should have been a dining room, with a dark, brown carpet running the length of both rooms. I peered back at a staircase leading to the second floor, examining the white, wooden bannister until interrupted by Monica. “You haven’t fed tonight, have you?” she asked.
“No,” I called back toward her. In a much more subdued volume, I added, “And neither do I care to presently.”
“You should have something anyway. The next few nights aren’t going to be a picnic.” The sound of a coffeemaker brewing preceded a cabinet door being opened and mugs being set on a counter top. I focused on the noises coming from the kitchen until Monica appeared with two steaming mugs of coffee. She set one down on a side table near the loveseat before walking the other one over to me. I stared at the hot, dark liquid contained therein, skeptical.
“There’s no blood in there, silly,” Monica said, directing my focus back to her. Reaching behind her back, she produced the knife I had given her and pulled it from its sheath. I opened my mouth to speak, but she silenced me with a quick, stern look. “No protection spells. And you’ll need it, so don’t argue with me. Just know that I’ll throw you across the room if you don’t stop when I say ‘when’
.”
Monica placed the sheath aside and lifted her hand. I noticed for the first time she had stripped off her gloves, leaving her forearm exposed. As she dragged the blade across her wrist, blood rose to the surface and regardless of my misgivings, I homed in on the sight, fangs lowering out of impulse. Before I knew it, my lips had pursed around the wound and I had begun drawing from it.
Several draughts ran down my throat before I forced myself away, my tongue licking away the last drops and shutting the wound. Feeding had made my head swim again and even after my fangs retracted, I eyed Monica with a small amount of drunkenness, struggling for my bearings. She smiled as she removed her scarf, using it to wipe the blade clean. The knife found its way back into its sheath, tucked out of sight before she wrapped the scarf around her wrist. “Better?” she asked.
“I will be in a moment,” I said. My unencumbered hand drifted back to the mug and even though I lacked the desire for coffee, I drank anyway, preferring that to the needling sensation of wanting more sustenance. My eyes shut while Monica walked over to the loveseat. I thanked the Fates for the distance between us. “Why did you insist on that? I thought we could survive for some time without drinking blood.”
“You can, but you’re not ready for that marathon race yet. You’ve been used to feeding on demand.” I opened my eyes once I heard her settle into place. “You’re a young vampire, too,” she continued. “It’s easier for the older ones to fight themselves off for a week. You’re going to struggle with more than three days.”
“How will I manage living this way, then? You wanted me to come to terms with my humanity again, but my physiology will make that difficult.”
“We’ve got a little while to figure that out. I hate to say this, but I’m going to put you on the detox from hell to get your brain used to being without.”
“You trust yourself being in the same house?”
“I have a handy, dandy spellbook to make that possible.” She took a sip from her mug, setting it back down afterward. “Besides, we don’t have a choice. I’m the only witch who’s going to take the job of ‘watcher to a vampire-seer’ and you need someone sympathetic. I knew Lydia before she died. She made me promise I’d take care of you if something happened to her.”
Raising an eyebrow, I drank my coffee as well, but continued clutching onto the mug. “I suspected you knew Lydia, though I do not know how that makes you sympathetic toward me.”
“I have a soft spot for challenges.” While I knew that not to be the entire truth, Monica gave me no time to inquire further. “We play the hand we’re dealt, Peter. Both the good and the bad. I made a promise and, for better or worse, I’m going to keep it.”
Monica relaxed against the back of the loveseat, drawing her legs up until she curled against one of the threadbare pillows. “If you’re going to make it out the other side of this,” she said, “then you need to focus on yourself. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl.”
“While I do not doubt that,” I said, “I do not want to have another person’s death weighing on my conscience. I have enough as it is.”
“I know, but there’s nothing either of us can do about that right now. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy or that I don’t want you to feel anything about it, because you need to feel something again. But wallowing isn’t going to do you any good, either.” Her eyes met mine, a measure of deliberateness behind her gaze. “Trust me. You might not see it right now, but you’re too gifted for that all to go to waste. I’ll walk the line as much as I need to and I’ll protect myself as much as I feel inclined. Okay?”
“I suppose. This is simply a lot to process.” Setting down the mug, I reclined against the couch and peered up toward the ceiling. Stained tile stared back down at me. I did my best to ignore it. “I started the night dismantling the entire coven structure of the Philadelphia area. Now, I am in the living room of a witch, not certain how to make amends with anything that has happened.”
“We’ll have to figure out a way. There’s a lot more on the line after what happened tonight.”
Lifting my head to look at her, I mirrored her frown as her fingers toyed with the fabric of her scarf. “You blew the whole thing into pieces, but you might be the only one who can put it back together again,” she said. “Our local council for the Supernatural Order has been down an elder ever since what happened to Lydia. Nobody’s replaced Liam. They were about to welcome in a powerful seer and, instead, they lost the sorceress who was supposed to be his watcher. Sabrina’s been nothing but a growing threat and more than once, they’ve wondered if they should bring in another seer to kill you.”
“They have?”
“Oh, there’s a few of them who’ve wanted to tear your whole coven apart, but nobody knows how to handle the subject of you. We realized, before you were even turned, that you were a seer-in-waiting, but the Council ruled it against the natural order to draw your gifts out prematurely. Technically speaking, I’m in trouble for doing it to you.”
“Technically speaking?”
Monica sighed. “Okay, I’m in a lot of trouble for bringing out your powers, but in my defense, I saw an opportunity to reach you and I took it. Tonight, you proved my gamble right. We’ve just made a huge mess of things along the way.”
“That is certainly one way of putting it.” I peered back down at the mug, considering drinking the rest of my coffee and deciding against it when my stomach issued a protest. “I do not know if your gamble has been proven correct yet or not. I cannot claim that one moment of epiphany is enough for me to consider the error of my ways.”
“We’re going to have a long road ahead of us, trying to reprogram you. You’re still a vampire, yes. Nothing’s gonna change that. But, if we can figure out how to use that to our advantage, we could make you one hell of a force. You’ve come to terms with being a killer. What we’re doing now is teaching that killer how to tap into his humanity again. Because therein lies the seer.”
The thought of how different the night had been when I emerged from Matthew’s coven estate resonated in my head. If the vestiges of my humanity were behind the life and vitality I felt inside, then, I told myself, there had to be some truth in Monica’s words. “I suppose this begins as most things do,” I said. “One day at a time and one foot in front of the other.”
“I hope I made you see a little light at the end of the tunnel.”
“Perhaps some.” I frowned, sinking further into the couch. “Is it possible for me to rest? I think I have had my fill of activity for one night.”
“Sure.” Monica lowered her legs from the couch and lifted to a stand. As I rose to my feet, she gestured toward the staircase and I followed behind her. At first, we began our ascent in silence, but Monica spoke again when we had nearly reached the second floor. “I prepared your room, just in case I’d be able to convince you to come here. There’s one catch to it, though. If we’re going to throw you into detox, you need something holding you back. That bloodlust of yours is going to get brutal, fast.”
“What did you have in mind?” I asked, finishing my ascent with her and following her down a narrow corridor, toward the back of the house. The carpet the same color as the downstairs, the walls had been painted a light tan color, chipped and cracked from age and neglect.
“Well, locking you in there wouldn’t work because, no offense, you’d probably knock the door off its hinges and then, I’d lose my security deposit for this place.” Before I could even question how one went about returning the house in a worse condition, she continued. “I cast a spell on it. Played off the classics. You can’t leave the room unless I invite you into the rest of the house.”
“You are securing me inside a room using a cliché?”
“Hey, if it works, right?” We paused in front of the room, Monica gesturing at it as if to permit me ahead of her. I exchanged a look of incredulity with her on my way inside, but not once did the faint smirk on her face waver. She waited until I had crossed the thres
hold before snapping her fingers twice. I turned to face her, assuming I had been locked inside.
“You’re all set,” she said. “There’s books and candles in case you want to read. If you need anything else, let me know, but in the meantime, I’ll make sure to tuck your weapons away somewhere safe.”
“Thank you,” I said, looking at her across an expanse which only constituted three feet, but might as well have been miles. She nodded, offering me a solemn grin before shutting the door. I heard a lock engage and sighed, grateful for the added security.
I studied the four walls of my new classroom, seeing the same cracks as had been in the corridor. A full-sized bed, adorned with faded sheets and a comforter, boasted a chair and a dresser to compliment it, with a nightstand beside the bed rounding off the remainder of the furniture. I settled on the mattress, kicking off my shoes and settling on my back. Immediately I looked toward the window and frowned.
A heavy blanket had been draped over it, but had it been taken down, I imagined the faint embers of moonlight which would have been shining through. Taking off my glasses, I placed them on the nightstand beside me, reaching in my pocket for the watch I had stolen from my brother’s personal effects. The next evening, I would awaken inside this new world and for the first time in years, I felt genuinely frightened. Opening the timepiece, I read its inscription…
‘Not all who wander are lost.’
… And for the second time that night, I descended into tears.
Chapter 25
While the first night went by without much incident, hunger greeted me the evening afterward, bordering on insatiable. Opening my eyes, I tucked away Robin’s watch, knowing I had to focus when confronted by such a palpable level of need. I had never, after only one missed feeding, felt such thirst racking me, but normally, I knew all I had to do was leave my room to sate it. Something about my captivity had made the craving stronger.
Finally, I had arrived at the place of reckoning.
