by Ilana Waters
“My turn,” he said to her. “How’d you do that?” He pointed to the pub. “Make that miniature saw that so neatly relieved our fellow patrons of their heads?”
“How’d I do it?” She held out her hands and twirled once in a circle. “With a little bit o’ bitch and whole lotta sass.” She gave her rump a smack. He gave her a look. “Okay, okay. I also have a magic ring.” She glanced down at her hand. “Had a magic ring. Dammit to hell.” Indeed, on her right hand was a metal circle and a charred hole where Titus remembered seeing the tiger’s-eye stone in the pub.
“The woman who sold it to me said it had stored protective energy in it.” Abigail sighed. “Guess it’s all used up now.” Gently, she pulled the shell off her finger and tossed it on the ground.
“You’re lucky that woman wasn’t trying to cheat you,” Titus said. “I’m surprised you’d take her at her word, what with all the charlatans out there nowadays. Perhaps you should procure more items from this sorceress.”
Abigail waved her hand. “Nah. It was just something I got at a flea market back home. And I’m sure the seller was trying to cheat me. I doubt she had any idea there really was a spell on the ring. But one look, and I could tell right away. Someday, I’d love to bespell jewelry myself.” She held out her arms and examined her bracelets.
“So, you did not possess the ring’s power yourself,” Titus said. “How disappointing.” Probably a garden-variety mortal with a tinge of witch blood from an ancestor. Tragically dull. He should’ve known.
“But I still came up with the idea,” Abigail said. Titus rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on,” she protested. “The Green Lantern couldn’t have done any better!”
Titus’s brow furrowed. “What do colored light fixtures have to do with anything?”
Abigail buried her head in her hands. “Never mind.”
“But doesn’t anyone in your family have magical powers?” he insisted. “A great-aunt who mysteriously healed people? A grandfather whose premonitions always came true?”
Abigail shook her head. “Not that I know of. I mean, I guess it’s possible, but I never heard of anything like that from my relatives.” She scratched her head. “I don’t know why I can do the things I can.”
“Well, your ‘idea’ was impressive. I’ll give you that.” Yes, she is impressive indeed, but probably not capable of terribly great magic. “Not surprising you were able to sense the spell on the ring; you’re clearly one of earth magic. Any witch could tell that.”
Abigail bit her lip. If Titus didn’t know better, he’d think she was apprehensive. “Do you think regular people can tell?” she asked. “I’m not supposed to be doing magic. If the PIA found out—”
Titus groaned. She’s PIA. Why hadn’t that occurred to him? That was why she was watching supernaturals at a pub with a notepad.
Abigail stopped. “You seem more upset about this than I am. But let me explain. The PIA is—”
“I know what the PIA is,” he said darkly. “Every supernatural with an ounce of sense does, and knows to stay away from them.”
Abigail’s smile returned. “You seemed awfully quick to tell me what the PIA’s all about. Could such a glib response hide a little nervous energy?”
“Why on earth would I be nervous? Your organization’s meddlesome ways more oft spell ruin for their own members, not supernaturals.” He raised his eyebrows at Abigail. “As you mentioned, they might find out about these budding powers of yours. At that point, they’re more likely to be a threat to you, my dear.”
Her smile faded again. “True. Large groups of frightened people are more dangerous than almost anything.” She fingered the Star of David around her neck.
“Yes, well,” Titus cleared his throat, “just hope they don’t go down that road where you’re concerned.”
“Speaking of going down roads, how the hell do we get back to London from here?” Abigail swiveled her head. “That’s where the PIA’s British branch has its headquart—” Titus gave her a look. “Okay, okay, so you know that, too. I assume London is where you’re staying as well? Unless you enjoy the English countryside and its nosy villagers?”
Titus shook his head.
“Didn’t think so. Local pub, my ass,” Abigail muttered inexplicably. “This place was in the middle of nowhere, and crawling with vampires. No offense.” She surveyed the area again. “No cars in the lot. So, the vampires were either local, or they flew here. Literally.” She heaved a sigh. “Looks like we’ll have to walk back to the train station. I suppose we could always find a highway and hitch a ride. But that’s not as safe as it used to be.”
“Yes, one must be careful of the company one keeps,” Titus said. “Especially when it comes to one’s safety.” Does this woman still not understand that I’m a threat to her?
Abigail grinned. “Don’t worry; I don’t bite.” She gave herself and Titus an elevator glance. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone is going to let us into their vehicle covered in dirt, ash, and blood. Not without asking a lot of questions.”
“I have one. How did you get here?” he asked.
“I took a cab from the station. I still have the card . . .” She fumbled around in her purse, then stopped. “Damn. I forgot there’s no phone to call them. Unless you want to fly us out of here in those big, strong arms of yours again.” Abigail batted her lashes, and Titus couldn’t tell if she was in earnest. He stared straight ahead.
“We’ll walk.”
It was overcast; a white blanket of clouds hung above them. At least the rain let up, Titus thought as they stepped out from the trees and down the narrow country lane. Titus’s vampire eyes had no trouble finding their way through the darkness. His companion, on the other hand, stumbled about until he formed a magic ball of light. He floated it above them in the air a few feet ahead.
Things were blissfully silent for several moments. Titus took the opportunity to perform a little test. He tried to think of something Abigail wouldn’t approve of. Finally, he resorted to silently calling her filthy names. But when he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, he saw no reaction.
So she can’t read minds. Good. He was free to think what he liked around her, no matter how—
“Did I say something to offend you?” She turned to him sharply and frowned. “All of a sudden, I’m getting the feeling you really, really don’t like me.”
Blast. Just his luck. She was one of those intuitive, empathic types. She couldn’t read his thoughts exactly, but he’d still have to be careful around her.
“Not at all.” He smoothed the front of his jacket, then remembered it was futile. The suit was a total loss. “I was merely enjoying a pleasant evening’s walk with a beautiful woman.”
Abigail snorted. “Not everyone can wear sarcasm, you know. It’s not exactly your color.”
Titus clenched his fists, then slowly released them. Petty words from an insignificant mortal. They mean nothing, he told himself.
More silence. It was a pleasant night, at least. The early-spring air was warm enough, the crickets chirping softly. But Titus was growing hungry. He’d been parched at the start of the evening. Now, with all the fighting and blood loss in the pub, he was well into his hunger. His lips were dry and cracked; he could feel the skin tightening over his face. He heard small animals scurrying through the underbrush, their gamy scent filling his nostrils. He considered grabbing one of them out of the thick grass.
What would our dear little mortal think then? When he tore the throat out of a squirrel or badger and feasted on it, blood running down his chin, his shirtfront. Then again, there was always the woman to satisfy his hunger . . .
“You know, we failed to consider the forensics,” she said suddenly.
“What?” Titus’s vision of himself bent over the woman’s flower-scented throat vanished.
“Forensics,” she repeated. “They can do all sorts of things with fire investigations now. What happens when they find all those fan
ged jaws and headless skeletons in the ashes?”
Titus shook his head. “They won’t. Vampires disintegrate when they’re burned to death. We don’t leave behind tidy little corpses like you mortals.”
“Really? Wow. That’s pretty heavy,” Abigail mused. “Still, I wonder if the bartender and the others will tell anyone what they saw before they ran off.”
“That they witnessed the start of an immortal showdown? It’s not likely anyone would believe the word of a few drunken dullards. Especially when it could be argued that a gas leak made them hallucinate.” Titus tilted his head toward her. “Now that is something I image your forensic investigators would find evidence of.”
“So you’re not nervous the dullards will go running around telling everyone vampires exist?” Abigail asked.
“If that sort of thing were to happen on a large scale, yes. Or if it came from the mouth of a more reliable source, I could see how that would be a problem. But I don’t think we need worry about a few dicey types breaking the masquerade.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why so concerned, by the by?”
“Oh, I’m not.” She kicked pebbles with her sandal. “I’m only thinking of your safety. Naturally.”
“Naturally.”
Abigail yawned. “How much longer to the train station? I think my legs are turning to mush.”
“About a quarter of an hour. My, but mortals are soft these days,” Titus said with an amused smile. “When I was a general, my men marched for days without complaint.”
“Your men hadn’t just used magic to lop off several vampire heads. Man, that stuff wears you out.” Abigail yawned again.
“Perhaps you wouldn’t be so fatigued if you hadn’t interjected yourself into a dangerous situation.”
“I hardly call self-defense an interjection.”
“Isn’t your organization designed to observe supernatural goings-on?” Titus asked. “I thought you weren’t supposed to get involved.”
Abigail snorted. “Kinda hard not to get involved when you’re up to your elbows in afterbirth. And that’s not a metaphor.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s how I got involved with the PIA in the first place.” Abigail explained how she’d served as a midwife to Mrs. Ellis.
Titus tried to stifle a chuckle and failed. “I must confess, when I first laid eyes on you, ‘midwife’ was not the occupation that came to mind. But why do you stay with the PIA if conveying infants is your calling?”
“Oh, I’m not giving it up.” Abigail did her best to smooth back her mass of curly hair. “But the PIA thing works for now. Midwifing . . . investigating supernaturals . . . I’m a lot more comfortable outside the mainstream. Ordinary life always bored me.”
“I know the feeling,” Titus murmured. Then, louder: “Actually, I imagine you’re quite good at keeping expectant mothers calm. Most mortals aren’t as composed as you when they encounter supernaturals.”
“Oh, I was shocked when I learned about you all, believe me. I mean, I thought I’d seen some strange things come out of wombs. Tonight was my first time ever seeing a vampire up close, though.”
Titus gave a smug smile. “Glad to be your first.”
Abigail tsked. “Don’t flatter yourself. Besides, I think you were all a bit easier for me to accept because I knew, deep down, I had a bit of magic myself. That made it seem less frightening, more familiar. But not everyone’s like me. That’s why I’m surprised your kind doesn’t try to keep your existence more of a secret.”
“Believe me, there are many mortals who’ve taken the secret of our existence to their graves,” he said severely. Still no reaction. Titus closed his eyes and shook his head. He gave up trying to discern the source of her bravery. Perhaps she was dropped on the head as a child.
“But in reality,” he continued, “complete secrecy would be impossible. It is necessary—even helpful—for certain mortals to know what we are. Bankers, advisors, and so on. Those discreet enough to maintain our privacy. Those who do try to expose us, well, there are those graves I mentioned.”
“So, no complete secrecy. I guess it’s nice not to have to stick to the shadows.” Her eyes scanned the inky blackness in front of them. “Crawling around in sewers, sleeping in abandoned mausoleums . . .”
“Mostly the stuff of garish horror films, I assure you.”
“You can even go out to a pub whenever you want.”
“I’m not certain anyone actually wants to visit a pub like the one we just left,” Titus said sourly. “Even before it blew up. I was only there looking for a meal.”
“Sorry I ruined your dinner plans.”
Titus was about to give her a meaningful look and say, “The night is still young.” But he didn’t. “Well,” he finally said, “you did provide me with a fair amount of entertainment. I’d say the evening wasn’t a total loss.”
“Good deal, then.” Abigail nodded. “Speaking of dinner, I’m starving.” She opened the flap on her purse. “Maybe I have something in here I can—oh, no!” Her eyes went wide. “The monkey! It must have fallen out.” She searched frantically through the jumbled mess in her bag, then whirled around. “We have to go back.”
Titus caught her by the arm. “Leave it.”
“But—”
“I said, leave it. We’re almost at the station. You were only supposed to observe that little statue, anyway. If you didn’t need a jade monkey before, there’s no reason you need one now, even if it survived the explosion.”
Abigail looked down the darkened road toward the pub. Then she sighed and turned around. “I suppose you’re right.” She and Titus kept walking. “But what if it was important? I mean, why else would those vampires go through all that trouble for it?”
“Didn’t the PIA give you any background on the damn thing?” Titus asked.
Abigail shrugged. “Cunningham just said it was a jade monkey statue from the Something-Something dynasty.”
“Cunningham?”
“She’s the vice president of the PIA’s London branch,” Abigail explained. “Said some supernaturals were supposed to make a bargain for it back at that pub. I was supposed to take notes on how it all went down. Cunningham said if I could get pictures, all the better.” She lifted a Polaroid camera out of her purse, only to find it had been crushed in the melee. “Crap. Oh, well.” She took one last look at the camera before tossing it into the brush. “How I’m supposed to discreetly get snapshots while having a drink is beyond me, anyway. But I’m surprised it all went sideways. Cunningham made it seem like it would be just a normal exchange. Money for monkey.”
“My dear, with vampires, it is wise to assume that wherever they are, death will follow.”
“Just one more reason I shouldn’t be hanging around you.”
“For once, we are in agreement.” Titus stroked his chin. “Though I, too, find my brethren’s frenzy over the statue somewhat odd. No doubt you’d have sensed if it had any power, as you did with your ring. As I’m sure you’ve surmised by now, the monkey was quite ordinary. Nothing magical or metaphysical about it. The typical thing a wealthy collector might want, but that’s all.”
He stopped stroking his chin. “Then again, perhaps it’s not so odd. Vampires have nothing but centuries with which to indulge such hobbies. It’s likely a bored blood drinker wished to acquire it, and others were willing to oblige them—for a price, of course.”
“No, it’s still strange.” Abigail’s face furrowed in confusion. “Why would Cunningham send me to cover a story on an artifact that wasn’t magical?”
“Perhaps,” Titus said, “because vampires were involved, and therein lies the magic.”
“Maybe.” Abigail bit her lip. “But supernaturals must engage in mundane transactions every day. As far as I know, the PIA doesn’t go running around trying to record those.”
“Then perhaps your Ms. Cunningham made a mistake.”
“Cunningham doesn’t make mistakes.
Pretty sure she has that engraved on a bracelet somewhere,” Abigail muttered.
Finally, they approached the train station on the edge of the village. It was a good thing, too; Titus cast a wary gaze on the lightening sky. He had to get inside somewhere, and soon. With the street lamps near the station to guide their way, Titus dissipated the magic ball of light.
“At last!” Abigail threw her arms out. “Civilization. Took us till the crack of dawn to reach it, though. Hey, you said you weren’t able to grab a snack at the bar. Don’t you have to go sink your teeth into someone before the sun rises?”
“I think I can manage until the sun sets tonight,” he said drily. “You’ll find we ancients need to feed less frequently than our younger counterparts.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Which is fortunate for you.”
A few early-morning commuters were standing around in suits or pleated skirts, and holding briefcases. They gave Abigail funny looks as she walked toward the ticket office. Several went slack-jawed when they saw Titus. He glared at them until they hurriedly turned back to their newspapers.
“Ticket office is locked,” Abigail said as she strode toward him, “but the sign says it’ll open soon. Then I guess I’ll hightail it back to London, to try to figure out why I was sent here in the first place.” She assessed the state of her torn, bloodied, soot-stained clothes. “I guess if anyone asks before then, I can always tell them I’m auditioning for something at the West End.”
“Fahrenheit 451, perhaps?”
“Ha ha. Here.” She handed him a glossy paper, folded into thirds. “I got you a brochure for an inn around the corner. You should be able to hide out there from Mr. Sun for a few hours.” She looked to the left, then the right. “I guess this is where we part company. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Titus listened for sarcasm in her voice, but couldn’t tell if he heard any. “Yes, it’s been an . . . interesting evening, Ms. Silver,” he replied. She extended her hand. He reached out, tentatively, before they both realized his palm was covered in dried blood. Their eyes met, hands dropping back to their sides.