by Peter Dawes
Even if that payment would mean my death.
Chapter 31
I did not share the conclusion I had arrived at with Monica, even though I knew it would influence my behavior from that point forth. While I had grasped onto the vaguest notion of repentance almost two weeks prior, I had not considered what shape it might take until that moment. After concocting a rudimentary plan of attack, I retreated to my room under the guise of sleeping for the day. Instead, I sat on my bed and clutched onto the pocket watch in recognition of the talisman it had become.
Come what may, I would see this task through to completion. And then I would surrender myself to the Supernatural Order.
It took a few hours of practicing with my sword for me to become fatigued enough for sleep. While guilt did not plague my dreams, it became a strange form of resolve as I woke, prompting me into the shower and to get dressed as quickly as possible. When I bounded down the stairs, daggers in holsters and katana in hand, I spied Monica in the living room, tying a scarf around her neck. Something about the way she glanced at me caused my thoughts to stutter, just for a moment.
“Ready to get out there and kick some ass?” she asked, shooting me a wink.
“As ready as ever,” I said, strapping the sword to my side and threading my arms through the sleeves of my coat. As I adjusted the fabric over the somewhat obvious weapon on my hip, I directed my attention to my watcher again. “Are we going to check for messages first?”
“Yeah, though I’m not predicting that we’ll have any. I’d give Allen another night before we could expect him to have any news for us.” She nodded at the front entrance and I led the way obediently, opening the door and pausing on the front steps while she locked up behind us. “No, I’m thinking we take a different tactic with the other covens while we wait for his to come through.”
“And what is that?”
Monica smirked as she made eye contact with me. “Rattle a few cages and see what escapes.” While the cryptic comment lingered unanswered during the beginning of our walk, Monica explained it soon after we had crossed the street and strode closer to the entrance to the subway. “We don’t trust the other covens because they’d turn on you,” she said. “So, it got me to thinking… If we stir up some trouble, Sabrina’s bound to find out about it.”
“What do you hope that accomplishes?” I asked.
“I’m hoping she makes a few mistakes. If she fouls something up, she’ll become easier to find.”
As Monica looked up at me, I raised an eyebrow. “How will these vampires know I am not on her side, if that is our plan?”
The smirk lingered on her face and this time, the question went completely unanswered. Monica whispered a spell over me while we descended the stairs into the subway entrance, not explaining what it did, but assuring me this was part of her job. I navigated past humans without any interference and together, we rode southward, to the neighborhood where we had encountered Allen. The house which they had occupied now lay empty, but Monica patted my shoulder reassuringly. “He’ll come through for us,” she said. “Got to let him have a little paranoia, all things considered.”
Nodding, I voiced none of my fears, not even when the empty store held no messages. Monica hurried us along, not allowing me to dwell on it, and as we boarded the subway once more, she sat near where I stood and shut her eyes. I studied her, curious. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Locating spell.” Her response barely audible, she did not repeat it and sunk, instead, into a deep form of concentration. I glanced around at the apathetic faces which populated the rest of the car and shrugged, determining her actions had not been noticed. While she pulled out a map I kept watch, until she cleared her throat, bringing my attention back to her.
“We’ll transfer lines and head west,” she said, tapping an intersection where a small black dot had appeared. I nodded as she looked up at me. “You ready?”
“Quite,” I said. Three stops later, we disembarked, ascending stairs and walking toward the adjacent subway line. I stopped focusing on my surroundings as much as possible once we entered the next train and began our swift journey westward. While I knew the posture of an assassin – and could assume it without fail – I attempted to form something different; something more akin to what I perceived a vampire hunter should be. As we stepped from the train and strode back onto the city streets, that electricity the world held whispered to me again, adding further testimony to the changed being I had become.
I saw glimpses of him as I kicked down the door and drew my sword. Monica stepped into the house behind me, summoning a visible form of magic, and while the sparks of light it generated might have all been for show, I finally understood what message we meant to convey.
A seer had been birthed from the ashes of Flynn.
Vampires stood abruptly from chairs and two who had been about the task of feeding broke from their meal and clambered to put added distance between us. Monica shut off the lights and I mirrored her smirk at last while taking off my glasses. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I announced, “Nobody has to die if you can give me one piece of information.” Stepping further into the main living area, I ensured as many of them could see me as possible.
“Tell me where I can find Sabrina,” I said. “She and I need to have a chat.”
The demand had its intended effect. As I read their minds I heard whispers, not of my request, but the sight of my emerald green eyes. Most reacted the same way Christopher and Allen had and while it stuck them mute, one brave soul gave voice to his thoughts. “Flynn?” he asked. “Is that… you?”
“One in the same,” I said. Monica walked up beside me, adding to the effect. “Do you have an answer for me?”
“Flynn, nobody here knows where she is.”
“That’s bullshit,” Monica piped. She took a half step past me, closer to the vampire in front of us. Once more, I found myself marveling over how quixotic the woman was. “You recognize that we’re here under the authority of the Supernatural Order, right?”
His eyes flicked between us, feet taking an instinctive step backward. “Yes,” he said. “I do now.” The vampire looked back at me as if to take in the sight again. “Christ Almighty, Flynn is a seer. What the hell did Sabrina do?”
“She became greedy. Now, she must answer for that.” I scowled and together, Monica and I paced closer to him again, claiming two for each one he made in retreat. Despite their numbers, the others parted ways, giving us berth to corner him at the edge of the living area. I lifted my blade and pointed it at his throat. “How do you deliver her messages?”
“We don’t,” he said frantically. “She comes to us.” Eyes wide, he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he refused to look away from me. “You have to believe me, Flynn. None of us knew. She said you massacred our coven masters and would do the same to us if we failed to fall into line. So, we fell into line.”
“You bent the knee to a dark magician,” Monica said, “who’s in violation of the natural order. If we discover you’re covering for her –”
“I’m not,” he said, glancing at her. “We’re not. We swear. We’re following orders, but none of that involves dark magic, I swear to you.”
“No, perhaps not,” I said. When the vampire looked back at me, I frowned. “But how many humans have you turned for her?”
He fell silent. As someone shuffled in my periphery, I spared a quick look in their direction and saw what I suddenly realized must be a fledgling immortal. Reading the neophyte’s thoughts revealed how confused she was about the events unfolding before her. When I shifted my attention to the few who echoed her ignorance, I counted five others.
My gaze returned to my prisoner. He tensed, as if he had followed the turns of my head. “Those six,” he said. “No others.”
“No others for her behest,” I said. “And when she asks you why, tell her.”
The vampire nodded, but dared not say anything else. I scanned the collective with a wary look
in my eyes, sheathing my sword and shoving the glasses back onto my face. Monica followed in my wake, neither of us speaking while we departed. Once we had put a city block’s worth of space between us and the house, however, we both relaxed.
“I trust that was acceptable,” I said, closing my coat enough to conceal the hilt of my sword. “As I am not familiar with being a seer, I might be doing it wrong, but it did not feel like murder was necessary.”
“No, not always the right approach to shoot first and ask questions later. I understood why you put a knife through Christopher’s chest, even if it wasn’t necessary. If we’re going to do this our way, better to have a controlled burn,” Monica said. She looked up at me and I, in turn, glanced down at her. “I think the only person you’re absolutely required to skewer is Sabrina.”
Nodding, I broke eye contact when the thought inspired a small, nervous flutter in my stomach. “What next?” I asked instead.
“We’ll rattle another cage. Then we can go back home. A couple of nights of this and something’s bound to sift out of the dirt.”
Her lips quirked in slight amusement, an expression I mirrored before focusing back on the intent of the night. Our second invasion yielded a similar result, with two new vampires in a nest of six others telling the same story while given the same directive. As I stripped my weapons and settled in for the day, I realized I had made my formal introduction to Philadelphia as its new seer. And each of the vampires we had encountered had behaved accordingly.
Not another life was lost the following night either, when a group on the far Northern side of the city received its visit from me. Two of its vampire residents threatened to disrupt that trend at first, until I removed my glasses and inspired them toward stunned silence as well. When we returned to the empty store, we still found no messages, leading me to finally give voice to my suspicions. “They disappeared again,” I said. “I do not think we can expect any further cooperation from Master Hughes.”
“Maybe it’s the eternal optimist in me, but I’m not willing to give up yet,” Monica said, standing straight from a crouched position after having scanned the floor for any rogue pieces of paper. She brushed fresh dust from her hands and looked up at me, her smile subdued and bearing reassurance. “I’m sorry, Peter. I’m a damn good sorceress, but I’d need something more to circumvent the sort of spell Sabrina has protecting her.”
“What do we do if our informant does not come through for us?”
“Crawl to the Order on our hands and knees, asking for their help.”
I frowned. “Hopefully, it will not come to that.”
She nodded and led us back home, adding the admonition that we should stay in and allow our self-made witnesses to filter word back to my maker. As a steady rain came down the following evening, Monica showed me some of the spells she did know, replete with an explanation into the ones most watchers usually imparted onto seers. Whether it was her company or the rhythm of drops pounding against the panes of glass, my soul felt at ease for the first time in two weeks. I draped a blanket over her when she fell asleep on the couch and quietly, I padded upstairs, where I cleaned my knives and prepared for our next outing.
A much lighter drizzle glazed the streets when we set out the next night. While the guilt fueling my marching orders had not abated, when we approached the empty store, I felt less apprehension over what we would find. A cigarette lit, I leaned against the outside wall and waited for Monica as she unlocked the door and walked inside. My thoughts had already drifted toward what we would do after this when she emerged, a grin tugging at one side of her mouth.
I furrowed my brow as she turned to face me. Her hand tucked behind her back at first, when she lifted it, she revealed a note, upon which a simple address had been scrawled and nothing else. Reading the address first, I looked at her and tilted my head while she laughed. “How bold are you feeling?”
“Is this her presumed address?” I asked.
“That’s my assumption,” she said. “We don’t have to storm the gates yet, but I can keep us safe while we give it a look.”
Glancing toward the piece of paper, I felt my skin prickle and a host of conflicted thoughts raced through my mind. Until I thought of Lydia. And slipped my hand in my pocket and touched the watch, using both Robin and my former lover as a foothold. With one, deep breath I calmed my nerves and nodded, my gaze returning to Monica.
“To the address, then,” I said. “Let us see what awaits us there.”
We approached the outside of the house, situated in the heart of Society Hill, which made it an added injury to the insult of Sabrina’s current power play. Only a few blocks away laid Matthew’s coven house, explaining how Allen’s ilk had discovered it. “Only she would have the audacity to situate herself here,” I said, keeping my voice a low murmur. “She has wanted to oust Matthew the entire time I have been her assassin.”
“Someone holds grudges,” Monica said, mimicking my tone. Her eyes rose heavenward, from our spot concealed in an adjacent alley, weighing the townhouse from roof to porch. Its position on the corner of the block gave it a place of prominence, though I found the fact that other houses flanked it odd. Before I could weigh in on the observation, Monica touched my arm. I looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. “This is going to be tricky,” she said. “Something tells me we shouldn’t just stroll in through the front door.”
“No, we should circle around to the back.” Glancing back at the house, I gestured at it as Monica’s hand lifted from me. “The curtains are drawn on the top floor. If she is still here, that is where I would place a bet we could find her.”
“Do you sense anything?”
I shook my head. “Slightly unsettled, but I cannot tell if that is nerves or not.”
Monica hummed, and when I looked down at her, I saw her bite her lip in thought. “You sneak in through the back. I’ll wait here. I have an idea.”
When I hesitated, she gestured at the house. “Don’t worry about me, just go.” She eyed me sternly until I acquiesced, looking both ways before crossing the street. Instead of walking up the front stairs, I turned left, favoring what few shadows the streetlights would grant me. I eyed the side street which intersected with it and followed it until it led me to a high, stone wall protecting the back of the lot. Stealing a look around first, I then jumped for the top and used the leverage to pull myself up and into the yard.
My shoes hit grass when I landed on the other side. A concrete walkway led up to the back porch, and as I strode to the door, I drew my sword and took a steadying breath. Soundlessly, I closed the distance between me and the house, though when I reached for the knob, I discovered the door locked. Squinting at the keyhole, I frowned, thinking about how easy Monica made opening these things look. “Another time,” I muttered, shifting my focus toward a small window inside the door.
Punching out one of the smaller panes, I reached inside and let myself in.
The door creaked as I strode into what appeared to be a kitchen. Stepping over broken glass, I passed a line of bar stools which had been situated against a wood counter. While the room looked pristine, one wine glass sat in the sink with a lipstick smudge on the rim. I did not lift it to verify the color, even though it resembled one of the many shades I had seen Sabrina wear over the years. Even still, my grip on the sword’s hilt tightened while I paced further into the townhouse.
Tile flooring transitioned into hardwood, making it difficult for me to move faster without making any additional sound. One measured step taken after another, I bypassed a long dining room table and gave the sterile, modern décor only a momentary glance. A winding staircase led to the second floor, but without even a floorboard creaking, I could not tell for certain if somebody was home. ‘If you can hear me,’ I thought while imagining Monica, ‘It does not seem that anyone is here.’
‘See if you can verify that this is her place,’ Monica responded. ‘That’ll tell us if we should continue to stake it out.’
&nb
sp; ‘Very well.’ Nodding to myself, I walked to the first shut door and pressed my ear against it, listening for signs of activity. When I failed to hear anything, I moved onto the next one and finally risked opening it to be certain. An empty room greeted me on the other side. “Not finished moving in?” I said, whispering my suspicion before pulling the door shut. The last room in the house, a bathroom, contained various toiletries, but none I recognized as belonging to Sabrina. For a moment, I wondered if I might owe some unwitting human an apology.
When I ascended the last flight of stairs, however, I felt a shudder run up my spine. The air around me felt cold and while the room I ascended into had no occupants, I knew we had found the correct place before even having a chance to admire the furnishings. Whether I imagined her perfume or not, the way my skin crawled suggested I had not conjured the fragrance from my imagination. None of her personal items had been left out on any of the flat surfaces. That did not stop the certainty I felt that she had been in this room.
I shuddered, though not entirely out of revulsion.
‘Allen was right,’ I thought toward Monica again, ‘this is at least one of her hideouts.’ Lowering my arm to my side, I tried to find some sign that she had been there recently, aside from a discarded glass. My fingertips brushed across the wood of her dresser, but failed to collect any dust. When I paused near her closet, I allowed my eyes to trace across each fixture, in search of something hidden. I became so focused on this task, I almost missed when it happened.
