by S. L. Eaves
“Jake! Oh God, Jake!”
Shaking, she checks him repeatedly, running her fingers over the wounds on his body.
“No! Don’t leave me, Jake! No!”
There is no pulse to be found. She wipes dirt from his face, kissing him, sobbing, trembling. Her tears run down his face. Lifting her head, she glances around. Perhaps looking for help, perhaps looking for his killer, perhaps self-preservation instincts begin to override emotion and somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind it occurs to her his killer might be standing right behind her.
My finger freezes on the trigger. I can’t do it. My target is no longer a menacing beast. A shot rings out from behind me. I watch Tamik’s body turn rigid before collapsing onto Jake’s.
Their wounds connect as she bathes his body in her blood.
Catch emerges from the woods. “I had to take the shot.”
“Yeah, yeah…I dunno what came over me. The finger wouldn’t budge.”
I regard these two casualties of war with sad eyes. They could just as easily be me and Catch. I shudder at the thought and turned to Catch, whose expression registers chagrin. Surely the gunfire has alerted someone, but we don’t stick around to find out.
***
One short train ride later and we are back at the mansion. Catch goes to give Marcus his report. I am still riled up from the chase, adrenalin or the vampire equivalent radiating through my body. It isn’t hunger. It is something else. I go straight to the pummel bag in the training room.
All I had to do was pull a trigger. Looking back now I feel no remorse. But I feel as if I should. That part of my humanity, the part that kept me from pulling the trigger—it is clear to me now that it is my biggest obstacle. In another situation, that humanity would be my downfall. I understand now that Adrian and Catch are right. About everything. And it makes me sick. I hit the bag harder.
“Hey love, can I get in on some of that action?”
Catch picks up a staff and begins spinning it gracefully beside him. I turn from the striking bag, drenched in sweat, cloth dangling from my left hand. I fix the hand wrap, snatch a wooden staff from the wall, and join Catch on the mat.
Catch is putting on a show, stretching and grunting, goading me on.
“You’re in a good mood.”
“You know it. Dade snagged and bagged the recruiter.”
“Great. We get some useful information out of him?”
“Indeed. The sod was working for a werewolf named Alex. We’re working our way up the ranks. Dade even got an address before he bled out.”
“That so?”
The room echoes as our staffs strike and slice through the air with an audible whoosh.
I am weaker on my left side and Catch identifies it immediately.
“We’re going after this Alex bloke. Tomorrow night. It took some convincing, but Marcus gave us the go ahead.”
“You tell him I froze?”
“I told him you completed a successful hunt. Which is mostly true. Don’t worry, first time killing anything…It’s not supposed to be easy. You’ll get there.”
His staff slams my side with a force that would crack a couple ribs if I were still human. I fall back on the mat. My staff spears the mat and I propel myself upright with one swift motion. The pain of the impact has subsided by the time I gain my footing.
I jump, dodging his blow, throwing one back. It clips slightly, but his bojutsu is advanced and he is too good. Too fast. I barely land a hit. If I am lucky I make contact with his staff, but I have yet to land a body blow.
My feet strike the wall and I vault into Catch. He catches my side and pushes me past him and over his head. I manage to land upright and spin to face him. He is already countering and I have to jump to avoid another blow.
I swing my staff down hard and strike his head, almost accidently. He stumbles and I take advantage of the momentum. Faster. Harder. His knees buckle at the second blow and he hits the mat. I jump him instantly; his staff jabs my hand defensively and I lose my weapon. My knees land in his gut and I begin punching his chest.
He drops his staff and brings his hands up defensively.
“Lori! Stop it!”
He grabs my wrists and yanks me off him.
“Are you mad? What’s gotten into you?”
I collapse. He kneels by me and I pull him close, burying my face in his shoulder. We sit together like this in the middle of the room for a while. Catch strokes my hair.
“I should not have brought you out tonight. Too soon.”
I shake my head, pushing away from him. “I killed someone.”
“He was a monster. He was a killer. And he would have surely turned more.”
“Before tonight.”
He raises his eyebrows. “With Crina?”
Again I shake my head. Over and over I’d played out my confession to Catch. But in reality, it is much harder to say aloud.
“At NYU. Before we left. This girl—my roommate’s girlfriend—caught me in front of a mirror and freaked out. I didn’t know how to explain it, so I just fled. She tried to stop me. I hit her. Hard. I forgot what I was. My blow lifted her off her feet, knocked her into the wall and broke her neck. It was a freak accident. My roommate witnessed the whole thing, so I panicked and killed him too…I think. Oh God, Catch! I try every day to forget. To pretend—if no one knew the truth—it never happened.”
Catch grips me tightly and we lock eyes.
“You think?”
“Huh?”
“You said ‘you think’ you killed your friend, the roommate.”
“Oh, uh, I, I bit him. When I realized what I was doing I pulled away and fled. He wasn’t conscious, but I dunno. All I could think of was that there couldn’t be any witnesses. How fucked up is that? I went for him instinctively, then…something human crept into my mind and pulled me out of the frenzy, the thirst just stopped and I released him, but he didn’t look alive. I’d taken a lot of his blood.”
I decide not to mention the 9-1-1 call.
“Was anyone else in the house at the time?”
I hesitate, then shake my head.
“Okay…It’s okay. Any tie to you will be from the victim standpoint. The attack provided a cover for your disappearance. Police probably figure you for dead, not the killer, but someone the killer kidnapped and killed elsewhere…something like that. No motive. No evidence…”
“My past as human…it wasn’t exactly spotless. I mean I didn’t murder anyone but I had a history of violence. It’s possible they’d think I did it.”
This doesn’t seem to be news to Catch. I read his face as he formulates possibilities. All it’d take was one person witnessing me fleeing the house alone and bloody. Given my track record, all that victim talk would go out the window. I left New York a killer.
“Well, look at it this way. No to sound insensitive, but worst case scenario—for you—is the roommate survived. Even then, no one will believe him, what he saw, how it happened. And no one will be looking for you on this side of the pond.”
“I’m pretty sure he was dead when I left.”
Can he sense my lie?
“Hmm…okay.”
He squeezes my shoulders.
“I’m glad you told me. I know it must have been a burden. A secret of that magnitude. You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here for you. Always.”
We stand up. I nod and hug him for the millionth time. “That’s what I love about you. I’m going to take a shower and call it a day. How about you join me?”
As we leave I notice his eyes glance up at the mirrors above. It doesn’t quite register at the time, but I’m not naive enough to think those mirrors were hung for aesthetics.
Chapter 18
As dusk falls, a storm brews outside. Having spent the last few hours lying zombie-style atop my comforter, I lose hope of a refreshing, post-confession slumber and walk out onto my balcony to watch the clouds darken and the sky flash in brilliant surges. Catch, awakening to
an empty bed, joins me outside. His arms wrap around me as we look up at the threatening sky.
I feel such a strong connection to him. He is right; I can’t spend time lamenting past sins. He’d given me a fresh start, whether I wanted it or not. And now nothing else mattered.
We lock eyes and I run my fingers through his shaggy black hair, letting the rain drops slick it back. The rain grows heavier and we move inside.
“We’ve got an address in Paris.” Catch pours some breakfast.
“Dade coming?”
“No, just us on this one. Two against one should be plenty. The trick will be getting information out of him. They aren’t big on talking.”
***
I’d never been to Paris. It is a stunningly beautiful city. One which I promise myself I’ll return to when it isn’t for business. We pace around a towering 32-story apartment building located along the Seine. This skyscraper that nearly dwarfs the nearby Eiffel Tower is the residence of our target. Alex’s apartment was 2902; from there you can most likely see the entire Paris cityscape.
“Game plan?”
“We tranquilize him, restrain him, and find out what his end game is.”
“Okay, let’s see if he’s home.”
The guard at the front desk is absorbed in whatever game he has on his tablet. We walk by casually and hop the elevator. The hallway is uninhabited and we make our way to the door displaying 2902 in shiny rounded pewter. Catch presses his ear against the door.
“I hear music.”
We both listen to the David Bowie track playing.
Catch works on the lock, pops it, and we quietly inch open the door.
Coast clear.
We enter.
Untouched Chinese food sits on the kitchen counter next to a half-drunk bottle of wine. We cross the empty living room. I grab Catch’s arm. He turns.
“Two glasses,” I whisper, pointing at the counter.
“Bollocks. Okay I’ve got the tranq gun. Pull yours too just in case.”
We walk down the hall in the direction of the music. A man and a woman can be heard from what we assume is the bedroom.
With Catch in the lead, we inch the door open enough to slide inside. They are a little distracted and we enter unnoticed.
“Alex!” Catch trains his gun on them.
At that, the man leaps buck naked from the bed upwards at Catch, who ducks and fires a single shot into the man’s chest. Momentum propels his body forward and Catch moves clear and throws him into the wall. I keep my gun aimed at his back, but he is not turning. Catch has successfully tranqed him.
Except that he hadn’t leapt at us, he’d be thrown. My brain processes this just as something sharp tears through my shirt, penetrates my skin, and flings me sideways toward the balcony.
“Lori!”
The sliding glass door is cracked open, but only a few inches.
The glass shatteres upon impact, more from the wolf’s force than my own. Claws and glass tear through my skin.
I land on my side and feel the gun fly from my hand. I manage to force my knee between us and grip her snout with my free hand. This does little, but keeps the mess of claws and teeth out of reach of my body long enough for Catch to dive into her side.
Over the balcony they go.
I jump up and grab Catch’s arm as he goes over the railing.
My side screams, ribs cracking as the force slams my body against the metal rail. Every muscle flexes and my grip on his wrist tightens.
No way in hell am I losing him.
I double over the rail as he swings down below the balcony ledge. I prop my legs against the rail, get some leverage, and lean back, straining to pull Catch upward. As I lift him, he grabs the rail with his free hand and hurdles over. With both our feet now planted firmly on the concrete balcony, I release my grasp.
“Whew, that was a close one.” Catch helps me pick glass from my back.
My wounds are healing quickly.
“You’d think Dade could’ve mentioned Alex was a she.”
“He’s not one to concern himself with details. Then again, that wolf he questioned might not have specified.” He smirks.
We peer over the balcony.
“What would a fall like that do to us?”
“I imagine a plunge that far’d do us in. At the very least, liquefy us into something unrecognizable.”
I cringe.
“If it didn’t off me, I’d want some bloke to finish the job. Promise me you’ll stake me instantly should something messy like a 30-story fall occur.”
“Only if you promise to return the favor. And to stop diving recklessly off buildings.”
“It was a compulsive reaction, I admit.”
We both look down at the ground below. Street lights illuminate a small but quickly growing crowd.
“We should get out of here. Fast.”
Catch points at a neighboring building.
“We’ll cross over there via the roof and then make a clean getaway.”
Catch and I quickly raid the apartment but can’t find any clues pointing to Alex’s objectives. Would have been nice to get some questioning in before the violence. Or after.
“Phone!” Catch announces, picking it up from the nightstand.
I check the body of the man who’d been hurled at Catch. Still human, I wonder if Alex had planned on biting him. His wallet IDs him as Benoît Laurent, a local Paris resident. I know a little French: Benoît means blessed. Ironic.
Satisfied with the phone, Catch is already in the hall.
“Come on, the coast is clear.”
“We just leave him here?”
“Yeah, he’ll be fine. Stop searching the place, the cops are on their way, we have to abort!”
I sigh, knowing he is right but not wanting to leave empty-handed.
We split before the Paris prefecture swarm the complex.
***
We have next to nothing to go by.
Part of the reason our leads keep drying up is due to our own methods. The other can be blamed entirely on the wolves. They aren’t the ask-first type. But we waste too much time and manpower tracking and killing werewolves without gaining knowledge of their plan. We know enough to figure that there is one. They operate in packs with someone at the helm, someone dolling out the orders. There is a method to their madness: turn the strongest, healthiest humans, kill off the weak.
We know their main objectives just not the big picture. We have to gain further insight into their operations. Their numbers have increased over decades of war, but they are not immortals and the odds of their plan spanning centuries are slim. They are bidding their time for a different reason. One which we have to figure out before it is too late.
Meanwhile, Crina goes to meet Adrian in South America. He’s been investigating a plague responsible for numerous fatalities in Argentina. There is news of a bad outbreak spreading through Central and South America. A bird flu of sorts that North Americans fear will soon reach them. Why this is any concern to Adrian is beyond me. Was he looking to turn some? Take them before the plague could?
Crina reports that Adrian is acting erratically. She doesn’t think he is feeding and he’d been rambling incoherently. Marcus brings us up to speed upon our return from Paris, concluding that he feels it best to join Crina and is leaving Catch in command of the base.
I wish Marcus luck and leave Catch to discuss plans with Jiro and Xan. On my way down the hall, a vampire emerges from the stairwell. We nearly collide. He is tall with a slender build, a goofy grin, and sandy locks; his skin almost looks tan. I immediately wonder where he’s left his surf board.
“Yo, you know where the gym is at? I’m kinda lost. Name’s Trent, by the way.”
“Lori.” Shaking his extended hand, I manage a friendly smile, but am rather thrown by his sudden appearance and his completely unfazed reaction to me.
“Basement.” I pointe down. “Xan didn’t give you the tour?”
“Naw, I opted to
explore on my own. This is so exciting! I just base jumped off the roof. Four stories and not a scratch on me! Can’t wait to try some real heights. Everest style, you know?”
I smile and nod.
“Have you been?” he asks, a serious expression on his childish face.
“No, can’t say I have.”
“Bet it’s got a killer view. I can’t wait to take this new body out for a test drive. See you around.”
Hyper, he throws me a peace sign and bounces down the stairs. I think of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh and can’t help but laugh. Who had recruited him?
After a restless spell on the couch watching bad television, I throw on some blood-free clothes and take to the grounds. It isn’t long before Catch finds me.
“Meet Trent?”
“Yeah, sort of bumped into him.”
“He’s an American, West Coast. None of us turned him. We think one of Vega’s did.”
“Vega?”
Catch lowers his voice.
“Vega is a Pureblood. You won’t likely hear his name mentioned in the mansion. He and Marcus do not see eye to eye. Vega wants an alliance with the werewolves. Sees the fire as a pronouncement of a new breed, no longer savage slaves to moonlight, but powerful forces that have earned the right to walk among us.
“Marcus and the rest of us see it as the beginnings of a much greater threat to our kind. Vega is naïve to think werewolves would align with us. The fire was a proclamation of dominance, all right, but it was also a declaration of war. They don’t want to walk among us; they want to spit on us and stomp on our graves.
“Vega has no interest in replenishing our species or taking part in the war. Adrian never outright accused him of conspiracy, but he may have had a hand in the events leading to that dreadful day.
“Someone leaked the location of The Covenant and while no proof exists that I know of, many of us do not believe him to be entirely innocent…”
“That’s a pretty heavy accusation. This come from Vega himself?”
“No, I have never met him, none of us have. You know, aside from Marcus and Adrian. Just rumors.”
“You think he created some backdoor alliance?”
