by J. A. London
It was too late when the train started. I just wish I could have convinced him to get off.
“Did Clive know it was you?” I ask.
“No.”
Does his mother know what he is? When he doesn’t come home will she think he’s just out protecting the city? I try not to think about how worried she’ll be. How upset Rachel will be when she finds my note. What I’m doing is important. I have to remain focused on that.
The sun’s heat is intensified by the glass, and I feel like we’re all ants under a gigantic magnifier. There was a time when all passengers were ushered up here to face the sun. It ensured no vampires were onboard. It’s a policy they’ve obviously stopped.
The train barrels through the open gate so fast that the edge of the wall is just a concrete blur. Then we’re out in the open.
“It’s so … barren,” Michael whispers.
Spreading out before us are the charred and desolate remains of war. Even after all this time, ten long years, the earth is still struggling to recover. When we went wall-walking, we saw this same wasteland. But for Michael, who’d never been outside the walls, I guess there was still hope that it would look different in daylight, or that something beautiful lay just over the hill. But it’s all the same gray and colorless landscape.
Everyone is silent. Some of these people are old enough to remember what it was like before the war. Out of the corner of my eye, I see an older gentleman wiping a tear from his cheek. What does he see? I wonder. The trees that once grew? The green grass that flourished within his lifetime? Or does he see the horror of the fires created by all the bombs we dropped in an attempt to rid ourselves of vampires?
Slowly, one by one, people begin to leave. But Michael and I remain. Maybe because for us, we’re still fighting a war.
Eventually it’s only the two of us, standing there, gazing out. Denver is quickly becoming a speck on the horizon.
“All right,” Michael says. “I think we’ve seen enough. We’re going back to our room and we’re staying there until we get to Los Angeles.”
“Okay, we obviously need to set up some ground rules here,” I say, “because you’re not in charge.”
“No, he’s not. But I am,” a deep stern voice announces.
I spin around to find myself staring at the deadliest vampire hunter to ever live. The last person on earth I’d ever want to see angry.
Ian Hightower.
And he’s definitely not happy.
I’ve seen Ian before—one of the reasons Michael always wanted to see the Night Train was to catch a glimpse of his hero. But even when we stood close to him, Ian never seemed real. He was more like an urban legend. He’s wearing a black shirt, pants, and duster. Across his chest is a bandolier with metal stakes woven through, each one ready for easy access. His black hair is short. His five-o’clock shadow shows little hints of gray, caused by the premature aging that comes from staring into the eyes of an Old Family vamp and thinking your life is over. Not many walk away from that. I have. And so has Ian. The difference? Ian’s Old Family vamp didn’t walk away. Lord Percy died with a stake through his heart.
Ian strides toward us and I can’t help but compare him to Victor. He’s just as deadly, just as dangerous. Instead of the refined tastes of a vampire, he reflects the survivalist instincts of a human—the unending desire to see just one more sunrise, and never knowing if you will. That mentality breeds a state of mind unique to warriors. Ian has spent more time outside of city walls than in them. He has to rely on his wits and strength for protection. No one does it for him.
He glares at us. Across his cheeks, I can see the faint traces of old wounds, each one a close call, each one a near-death encounter. A man this young shouldn’t look this old.
“Dawn Montgomery,” Ian Hightower says, his voice deep and ragged, as if scars line his throat as well. It’s not a question, it’s a statement, and I can’t imagine that he ever asks anyone anything. Everything that comes out of his mouth would be said with certainty.
I’m actually surprised that Michael hasn’t dropped to one knee and offered Ian his fealty, because even I feel a need to bow before him. He’s been our hero forever.
I swallow hard, force myself not to be rattled by his sudden appearance. “Yes, Mr. Hightower?”
“I see you know who I am.”
“Everyone knows who you are,” Michael says, and I hear the hero worship in his voice.
“And you would be?”
“Michael Colt.”
“You’re the one the Agency sent along to keep her company?”
“To protect her, yes, sir.”
Approval lights Ian’s dark eyes. “I was about your age when I went to war. You’ll do.”
He shifts his attention back to me. “I don’t like trouble, Miss Montgomery.”
“I’m not here to cause trouble, Mr. Hightower.”
“Well, you’re already doing it. I found something hidden in the one of the cargo cars that apparently belongs to you.”
What? “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Christopher!”
With perfectly styled blond hair, a young guy not much older than Michael steps into the area. He’s dragging someone behind him—
“Tegan!”
“Dawn!” She breaks free of his hold, runs over, and wraps her arms tightly around me. I can feel her trembling. “I didn’t know they checked every inch of the train. I nearly got staked.”
Rubbing her back, I glower at Christopher.
He begins using a stake to clean beneath his fingernails. “She could have been a bloodsucker for all I knew.”
“So is she with you?” Ian asks.
“Yes.” Placing my hands on her shoulders, I ease her back a little so I can look into her eyes. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”
“I was afraid for you. I didn’t want you to be by yourself.” She pouts a little. “You let Michael come.”
“I didn’t let him come. The Agency sent him. How did you sneak onboard?”
She shrugs. “Flirted with a Night Watchman.”
Tegan, with her cute pixielike features, has always had guys stumbling over themselves to be around her. I’m not surprised that she was able to convince someone, even a Night Watchman—maybe he was new and near our age—to help her get on the train undetected. Now two people I care about are in the path of danger. I wonder if I can convince Ian to back the train up and return them to Denver. But when I lift my gaze to his, I can tell that he’s not going to welcome any suggestions from me.
“Enough with the happy reunion,” Ian says. “Clive gave me a call just before I got out of cell-phone range. Told me you were onboard and that you had something for me.”
He doesn’t sound pleased at all, like someone learning his burdens just doubled. Which I guess in a way they have. I pull out the letter and hand it to him. Never taking his eyes off me, he tears it open and unfolds the parchment. His face is impossible to read as he glances down at it. But his voice isn’t …
“You do everything I say,” he commands. “If you step out of line, I won’t hesitate to shove you back in, clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your director didn’t go into details, but they never do. I don’t like secrets.”
I dart a quick glance at Michael and Tegan. “Neither do I.”
“Sounds like we’ll get along, then.”
“Believe me, Mr. Hightower, I want this trip to be as painless as possible for everyone involved.”
His gaze travels over me, recalculating as he realizes that I’m not some spoiled kid simply looking for a bit of excitement. He jerks his thumb behind him. “Christopher, my protégé, will be responsible for your protection while you’re on the train. Now if you don’t mind, let’s return to your quarters.”
Christopher steps aside and Ian heads down the stairs. I follow, with Tegan so close on my heels that she keeps stepping on them. At the bottom, we begin making our way down the narrow pa
ssageway. When we reach the last car, I withdraw the key, unlock the door, and enter, with everyone following me inside.
“This is amazing,” Tegan whispers.
“Don’t be fooled by the luxury.” Ian knocks on a wall, and the tinny echo reverberates around us. “The Agency reserves this car for those on official business. It’s the safest place on the train.”
“Am I confined to this room?” I ask.
He turns to look at me, his brow furrowed. I’m not sure if he’s surprised that I spoke or if he’s surprised to find me here, as though he almost forgot about me. “I prefer that you stay here, but I’m already getting a sense that you and your friend”—he points to Tegan—“aren’t exactly rule followers. If you leave the car at night, you make absolutely sure at least one of these guys is with you.” He studies Michael. “Ever kill a vampire?”
“Yes, sir,” Michael says sharply.
Ian nods. “Just be sure that you understand this assignment isn’t about killing vamps. It’s about keeping Miss Montgomery alive—at any cost. While you’re on my train, you answer to me, not her. You’re expendable. I’m expendable. She isn’t. Are we clear on that?”
Michael nods. I start to say that Michael isn’t expendable, that none of them is less important than me, but Ian’s presence commands the room, seems to command the very air we breathe.
In his line of work, he’s seen more death than most will ever see in ten lifetimes. During the war, he moved from city to city, killing vampires while those around him were slaughtered. I look into his dark brown eyes and I swear scars run across those, too.
“We’re heading into the heart of rogue vampire country,” he says. “The vampires out here are desperate for blood. They will attack. They may even penetrate our defenses and get on the train. You have to stay alert. That means no booze, no partying, no sex. Nothing to distract you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Michael says crisply.
“Make no mistake, if anything happens to her, you will deal with me. And I’ll make you wish the vampires had gotten to you first. Any questions?”
Silence reigns and he gives a nod. “I’ll check back later.”
He marches from the room, closing the door with a thunk in his wake.
“I can’t believe I was breathing the same air as Ian Hightower,” Tegan says.
“He’s not such a god,” Christopher says as he moves to a table adorned with decanters and bottles. He grabs the whiskey.
“He said no drinking,” Tegan reminds him.
“He didn’t mean it. You gonna tell on me? Be a snitch?” He gives her a once-over. “Nah, you don’t look the type.”
Christopher brings four glasses over to the table and pours a drink for himself.
“We’re on duty,” Michael tells him.
“Relax, Colt.” Christopher tosses back the amber liquid and pours another. “You’re taking the job way too seriously. Ian and I already established there aren’t any vampires around—just one very loud stowaway.”
“I wasn’t loud!” Tegan shouts.
“Ah!” Christopher says, putting his hands over his ears. “I never thought I’d get my hearing back once you stopped squealing.”
Michael storms across the room, and Christopher stupidly pours a drink, expecting Michael to join him. Instead, Michael snatches the decanter, the whiskey sloshing around, some of it spilling onto the floor.
“You’re wasting good stuff, man,” Christopher says.
“No drinking,” Michael orders.
“Oh. My. God.” Christopher laughs. “You’re playing Night Watchman, aren’t you? Hoping to impress Ian. That’s all right, you’ll get the hang of it eventually. Once you stake a few more vampires, watch a few more people get their throats ripped open, all that pretty idealism will fly out the window.”
“And then what, I’ll become you?”
I’m impressed that Michael didn’t confess to being a Night Watchman, but then that’s rule number one. Never admit that you are. Right now, all Ian and Christopher know is that Michael was sent to guard me. They don’t know he’s one of our elite.
Christopher scoffs. “If you’re lucky you’ll become me. You can take first watch.”
He swaggers out of the room. I’m glad for the privacy.
“This place is amazing,” Tegan says, going over to the bookshelf and pulling one of the massive volumes out. “These are real leather-bound editions. Not too many people can afford this kind of stuff.”
“Tegan, what were you thinking?” I ask.
With a sigh, she puts the book back. “I told you. I didn’t want you going alone. Besides, if there’s any chance at all that we’ll run into Sin, I want to be there to shove a stake through his treacherous heart.”
“Tegan, this is so dangerous. In ways you can’t even imagine.” She’s never seen a vampire infected by the Thirst up close. “When we get to LA, I want you to stay on the train.”
“No way. Not gonna happen.”
“Tegan—”
“I can have that Christopher guy wrapped around my little finger with two bats of my eyelashes. You know that. He’ll help me get off the train, just like a Night Watchman helped me get on.”
“Fine. But if we cross paths with Sin, we run.”
“I’m sick of running! I know you are, too.”
“If anything happens to you—”
“Hey, you’re always getting me out of trouble. Maybe this time, I’ll save your ass.”
I sigh heavily, acknowledging that I’ve lost the battle. I walk over and give her a fierce hug. “I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m glad you’re here. I was already missing you.”
“Same goes. If anything happened to you, Dawn, I’d never forgive myself for not being there.” She eases out of my embrace and looks over at Michael, who is staring at the floor, arms crossed as though he’s not comfortable with all the emotion in the room. “But I might not have come if I’d known you were going to be here to watch over her.”
He lifts his gaze, gives her a crooked smile, shrugs.
“Why would the Agency send you, anyway—oh my God! You’re a Night Watchman!”
Michael can’t say anything to that, because it’s the only answer and Tegan isn’t stupid.
“And you didn’t tell us?” she asks with indignation that matches my earlier reaction.
“At some point if you want to become a Night Watchman, you have to stop telling people about it.”
“You could have put Christopher in his place by telling him,” she says.
Michael simply shakes his head. “I really don’t care what he thinks about me or my abilities.”
I think about the times we were together, and the secrets he was holding from me then. Then I realize the secret I kept from him. Victor. I guess, in some ways, we didn’t really know each other. But now that the conversation has shifted off Tegan to Michael, I ask, “How long have you been one?”
“Not that long. I was recruited a couple of days after Hell Night. The Day Walkers infiltrated the organization, and after they were dealt with, positions … opened up.”
“I’m so glad you’re here to watch over us,” Tegan says.
“I’m not glad you’re here,” Michael responds. “What you did was reckless. It puts you in danger—”
“Okay, I get it. I’m an unexpected complication and no one is thrilled I’m here. But I’ve had enough scolding so I’m going to go explore the train. I didn’t get to see much when the Night Watchman snuck me into the cargo car.”
Michael narrows his eyes. “What was his name?”
“I didn’t even ask, and he probably wouldn’t have told me if I did.” She strides up to him and punches his shoulder. “Step aside.”
He scowls at her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What can happen on the train?”
With a grunt of agreement, he opens the door. Christopher is standing there. Maybe he takes the job more seriously than he lets on.
He looks back at me.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “Just watch out for her.”
He grins. “It will be my pleasure.”
Michael watches them walking away before closing the door and turning back to me. “So you want to tell me what this is all about?” he asks. “What we’re doing here?”
“Didn’t Clive tell you?”
“All he did was ask for a volunteer for a special mission. Said it involved leaving Denver. He sure didn’t say it involved you, but I guess I should have figured it out.”
“Michael, can we call a truce?” I glance around. “I mean, we’re really going to be in close quarters here. I know you’re still upset about Victor and me—and I don’t blame you—but what I have to do is going to be hard enough without having to deal with a guard who hates me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Why did you volunteer to leave Denver, then?”
He sighs heavily.
I know him well enough to fill in the silence. “You wanted to get away from me. How’s that working for you?”
He gives me a small grin. “Not as well as I’d hoped.”
Walking over to him, I flatten my hand against his chest, feel his heart pounding. “Can we please be friends?”
“It’s hard, Dawn.”
“I know. I care for you … a lot. I still want—need—you in my life. And I need something else from you. I need you to give me your word that if a choice has to be made between saving Tegan or me that you’ll save her.”
I see the depth of his feelings for me in his eyes.
“I can’t promise that, Dawn,” he says quietly.
“Please, Michael, if you care for me at all, you’ll put her first.”
He sighs heavily. “I never could tell you no. Now why are we here?”
His response isn’t really an answer, but I have to hope if it comes down to it, he’ll do what I want. “You’ve seen the Thirst, interacted with it firsthand.”
He absently rubs a small scar on his cheek, a scar he has courtesy of his encounter with Brady. “Yeah.”
“Well, Clive and I are worried about it. He’s sending me out west to investigate it. I know that it’s rampant out there. But if the people of Los Angeles have found a way to protect themselves, then we need to learn it. Before it’s too late.”