“Indeed.” Kaylan took another pull of her cigarette. “Were you upset? That we didn’t need you?”
Liselle snorted. “You needed me. You tried to make them just the right level of hungry, but instead they’re starving. Always wanting more.”
“That’s just them being human,” said Kaylan.
“Perhaps,” said Liselle, then, “Kaylan, why are you here?”
“I wanted to see,” said Kaylan, “and now I’ve seen.”
Liselle gave a throaty chuckle. “Oh, sister. I see.”
“There is nothing to see.”
“They’re … they’re actually doing it.” Liselle thought for a moment. What had John Miles said? So I guess, that’s why we’re going to kick their asses. Because we need to. Because no one else is going to. Because we can. “And you don’t know who they are. You thought … you thought it was me.”
Kaylan crushed out her cigarette. “It might not be you, but you know who it is.”
“I know,” said Liselle. She laughed again. Because we can. “I’m laughing because I thought he was crazy.”
“Who?” said Kaylan.
“But he’s not, is he?” Liselle flicked ash from her cigarette.
Kaylan was in front of her, faster than thought, her hand around Liselle’s throat. “Tell me a name.” Her eyes had gone pale, so pale in her pale face, all color draining from them, and they stared at Liselle with unblinking purpose.
Liselle swayed back, grabbing at Kaylan’s hand with her own. She struggled, but Kaylan had always been stronger, stronger even than Josef, she was the last one of them, the bringer of the end, the—
“Ladies,” said John Miles. “How we all doing?”
Kaylan’s hand dropped from Liselle’s neck like it had been burned, leaving Liselle gasping. Liselle reached a hand up, felt her neck, coughed, but Kaylan had already moved on. Moved towards John Miles.
No. Liselle straightened herself, made to jump at Kaylan, but saw her sister had already stopped. Kaylan was looking at John Miles, her posture speaking astonishment. “You are … just a man.”
John looked down at himself. He was wearing one of Liselle’s silk robes, far too small on him, the hem only coming down mid-thigh. He looked back up at Kaylan, then said, “But what a man, amirite?” Liselle noticed that he held a bundle of fabric in one hand.
“You … how…” Kaylan looked back at Liselle, then at John again. “You are just a man.”
“Hey,” said John, “so a couple of things. First up, anyone want some coffee?”
Both Kaylan and Liselle looked at him, not speaking. He nodded at them. “Great. Coffee for three, coming up. Babe, where’s the coffee?”
Liselle pointed a hand at one of the cabinets over the sink.
John nodded, but didn’t move towards the cabinet. “Second thing,” he said, “is that I find that when I’m being strangled by someone, or something, or, you know, werewolves, right? You just don’t know how they’re going to act on any given Sunday. Anyway, what I was thinking is that it’s really bad to be strangled when I’m not wearing any clothes.”
“What?” said Kaylan.
“The third thing,” said John, walking towards Liselle, “and I know I said ‘a couple of things’ like there were only two, well.” He stood in front of Liselle, shaking out the fabric bundle — another one her robes. It was her favorite one, like somehow he’d known. She remembered getting it as John whispered the silk around her shoulders, the pattern of the dragon that wound its way through the silk falling free to lie against her side. She remembered the dragons, had wanted to be free like them. It was because of them that she wore the robe often. A reminder of what she wanted. Or a reminder of what she was. Or a reminder of what she could never be. “Hey,” said John, his voice low and just for her. “It’ll be okay.”
She shook her head, but didn’t say anything.
“What is,” said Kaylan, “this impressive third thing?”
“Oh, that,” said John, turning around. He moved into the kitchen, getting out the coffee can, some cups. “Anyone take sugar? I take cream and sugar, so you know, it’s cool.”
“The. Third. Thing.” Kaylan was gritting her teeth.
“Normally, well, normally Carlisle’s the one who delivers news like this,” said John, looking straight at Kaylan, “but you’re a huge, and I mean cavernous, truly epic scale, whale-sized cunt.”
“You can’t speak to me like … you are just a man!” Kaylan was angry, she was actually angry, and it made Liselle laugh. Again.
John looked up at the sound, and smiled, that wonderful smile. “That’s it,” he said. “That’s the sound we want.”
“You’re … you’re…” Kaylan stopped. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“You’re right, it is,” said John. “I make terrible coffee.” He shrugged. “My buddy Val, he’s got this whole cinnamon thing going with the coffee. I don’t know how he does it. He was trying to tell me, you know, a recipe, but when I do it, it tastes like a mixture of apple pie and burnt ass.”
Kaylan turned from John to look at Liselle. “Is this buffoon the one who is … no.” She shook her head. “He can’t be.”
“Can’t be what?” said John. He was tipping boiling water into the French press, giving it a swirl as he poured. “The coffee really will be bad.” He stared at Kaylan for a minute. “You’re a cream-no-sugar kind of woman, aren’t you?”
Kaylan hadn’t stopped looking at Liselle. “He doesn’t have the power, the strength, to fight them. You let this shell you wear,” and here, she gestured at Liselle’s body, “guide you like you’re some kind of rutting whore. You’ve forgotten who you are. We both know,” and here, she turned back to John, “that the only way to hurt you is to hurt them.”
Father, no. Liselle started forward, but Kaylan had the head start, was already moving towards John. One hand on the countertop, her feet swung up and over, that black coat flapping like wings, and then she had a hand around his throat. Kaylan lifted him off the ground, and Liselle was too far away, she was still too far, she wasn’t going to make it, saw Kaylan’s hand pull back—
“STOP.” The voice cut across them all, halted motion, thought, purpose. It was hard and strong; Liselle had heard a voice like that only twice before. Once, at the beginning, and then once more when she’d met a kind young man with gentle eyes and a gentler soul. He’d turned her away as she’d offered to sweep the Romans aside like chaff on the wind. And then he’d died, and she’d been lost ever since.
Liselle stumbled, watched as Kaylan dropped John Miles and staggered. Liselle looked towards the voice, saw a young woman with green hair standing in the door of her apartment. Her face was pale, color leeched out from fatigue, but she steadied herself with a hand on the door frame.
“Kaylan Gleicher, I tell you this once. You will go from this place. You will not harm the man named John, of the house Miles.” The woman with green hair — so young, so frail, so strong, so ancient — started at Kaylan, eyes hard. “Do you hear me?”
Kaylan stared at her, and laughed. “You can’t command me, child. I collected His only son’s soul. Your words—”
“Kaylan Gleicher, you will go from this place.” The woman with green hair strode forward, the room feeling too small to hold her. Her lips twisted into a smile. “Or … would you like to make a trade?”
Kaylan’s lips pulled back from her teeth in a snarl. She stood tall, tension pulling between the two of them. It felt like the charge before a storm, the air smelling of ozone. A crack ran up one of the windows, slowly at first, then with a snack the pane popped in a shower of glass. Kaylan didn’t even blink. “You don’t know what you’re—“
The French press smashed against the side of her face, scalding coffee and glass and metal raining down. It startled Kaylan, and she took a step back — she calls mine a shell but she’s wearing one too — wiping her face. Thunder rumbled outside, and for just a moment something else stood in Kaylan’s place, something ta
ll and frightening, with pale eyes. It was like a shadow superimposed over her.
A bullet took her in the shoulder, then another in the chest, a final one tearing away Kaylan’s jaw. The sound was impossibly loud in the room, the firearm shouting defiance at Kaylan, and she stumbled back. Through the windows, more broken glass falling like hard tears. The gun spoke again, a hole punching through Kaylan’s stomach. Another shot and her hand tore away. A final boom from the weapon and Kaylan’s shell tumbled over the side of the balcony, and then she was gone, falling from sight.
Lightning arced from the sky, the light so bright, so close, the air smelling of power and melted metal and burnt stone. Liselle looked away, held her hand up in front of her face, but the lightning struck on, and on, and on. Bolt after brilliant bolt came from the sky, hitting with force enough to shake the earth.
Silence.
“Enough fucking talking,” said another voice into that absence of sound. Liselle blinked away the after images to take in another woman, short leather jacket below hair pulled into a practical tail. She held a gun, and Liselle could see it for what it was. The Eagle.
“Hey,” said John, looking at the broken window, then back at the two newcomers. “Took you long enough.”
“For Chrissakes, Miles,” said the one with the gun. “You’re lucky her phone was even on.”
“She’s a Millennial,” said John. “They never turn their phones off.” He started walking, not looking like he was really moving at all but managing to cover the floor of her living room at speed. Liselle could see in the way he held his shoulders that he was worried but not wanting to look worried; it might have fooled anyone who hadn’t spent a thousand lifetimes looking at people. He made it to the woman with green hair just as she began to topple, caught her in those strong arms — is this what jealously feels like? I don’t think I like it — and held her.
“Hey,” he was saying to her. “Hey. It’s okay.”
“Miles?” The voice of the woman with the gun had turned sharp with worry. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Too much partying,” said John, scooping up the woman with green hair like she weighed nothing at all. There was surprising bitterness in his voice. “Too many stupid uncles.” He carried her to Liselle’s couch, laid her down. “Hey, Adalia. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“You keep…” The woman with green hair — Adalia — licked her lips. “You keep saying that, but you know, it doesn’t feel okay. You ever fought with someone about a hundred times your weight?”
“Anton the Ape,” said John.
“What?” said Adalia.
“Guy I wrestled with when I was, I dunno, it must have been ten years old. Something wrong with him, he was shaving at the age of eight.” John smoothed back Adalia’s hair. “But yeah. Thanks.”
“It’s what family’s for,” said Adalia, then closed her eyes. Out, asleep, gone. Family, thought Liselle, and felt that green clenched fist around her heart relax.
“Miles,” said the woman with the gun, “start talking.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Okay.” He stood up, but was still looking down at Adalia. “Yeah. So.”
The woman with the gun took four strides towards him, wrenched him around by his shoulder. Liselle thought she was going to hit him, real fire in her eyes, and John stood there like he wanted her to, like he thought he deserved it. After a moment, the woman with the gun grabbed him close, her hug fierce. “Don’t … I was…” The gun was still in her hand, Liselle watching it. She thought, Wouldn’t this be fine, if the gun went off after all the action was finished?
John pulled the woman free. “It’s okay, Melissa.”
“Call me,” she said, “fucking Carlisle.” Liselle heard no malice in her voice, an old joke shared between friends who knew each other better than lovers. Carlisle pulled herself free, straightened her jacket, then looked at the gun she still held. Without taking the eyes off it, she said, “Who’s that?”
“Oh,” said John, “hey, yeah, that. Melissa—”
“Carlisle,” said Carlisle.
“—this is Liselle. Liselle, this is my friend Melissa.” He rubbed a hand through the hair at the back of his head. “She’s kind of a hard-ass. Sorry she shot your sister.”
Liselle took Carlisle’s hand, felt the true iron in the grip. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.
“Yeah, great,” said Carlisle. “Now that’s done, who the hell did I just shoot?” She seemed to notice for the first time the robe John was wearing. “Nice bathrobe. It really sets off the highlights in your hair.” She thought for a moment. “Why didn’t Adalia’s … thing … work with that crazy who went out the window? Why was there a lightning strike, and Miles, this is the really important question I need an answer to, why was there a lightning strike that lasted for like a minute? That didn’t seem like a natural fucking weather phenomenon.”
“I went on a date,” said John, as if that explained everything.
Liselle laughed. Because, more or less, it kind of did.
Carlisle frowned. “I don’t think I understand.”
“It’s when two people, see, they get together, and they—”
“I know what a date is, Miles,” Carlisle said.
“You said you didn’t—”
“I am confused,” said Carlisle, “about why you’re in a woman’s bathrobe in an apartment over the Park. I am confused about why I had to shoot someone tonight, which I’ll agree seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but I feel like I’m missing the … start of the whole thing. I am confused,” she said, “about why you’re here in this very fine apartment instead of back at the bar, where we went to such an effort to get you a job, feeding my old comrades at the five-oh some nice misleading statements that would throw them off our tracks for a few more days.”
“About that,” said John. “It’s not what—”
“It’s my fault,” said Liselle.
They both looked at her. Then Carlisle looked at the gun in her hand, said something that sounded like hell, and put it away.
“Baby,” said John, turning to Liselle. “There’s a few things I’ve learned in life—”
“A precious few,” said Carlisle.
“—but one of them is that it’s usually my fault.”
“The police won’t bother you,” said Liselle.
“How do you figure that?” said Carlisle. “Earlier on, a bunch of people in a bar died.” She swallowed. “There’s a bit of a thing going on here too with some woman dead outside on the sidewalk, so I’m figuring that they’ll be along shortly to find out why she jumped, and they’re going to find,” and here, Carlisle gestured at the blood on the ground, mixed with the remains of the French press and the coffee it had held, “a crime scene. Eventually, that will lead to questions that, on any given day, I’d feel uncomfortable being involved in, but we don’t have the fucking time right now.”
“The police won’t bother you,” said Liselle, “because they are controlled by the vampires.”
“That was a scenario we’d considered,” said Carlisle, “but it does kind of imply that vampires might come along afterward instead. And given a choice between a few uncomfortable questions down at the station, and being surrounded by legions of things that want to drink my blood and turn me into an unholy monster, I’ll take the station.” She started to pace.
“They won’t come here,” said Liselle.
“Why not?” Carlisle paused her pacing. “Seems like we’ve lit a big sign in the sky that said, ‘Free lunch here.’”
“Because I’m here,” said Liselle.
“Baby,” said John. “Baby, and don’t take this the wrong way, but just before your sister had you in a stranglehold, and then she got to me, and it doesn’t look like she even lifts, but she was strong.” He opened his mouth, closed it again. “What I’m trying to say—”
“You’re trying to say,” said Liselle, looking at him, “that you think they could take me.”
> He considered. “That’s more or less it,” he agreed.
“Kaylan,” said Liselle, “is my sister. My sister … they’re afraid of her.”
“It’s a family thing?” Carlisle frowned. “And you’re using ‘is.’”
“I’m sorry?” Liselle looked at the other woman.
“‘Is,’” said Carlisle, “not, ‘was.’ Present tense. Usually, when someone’s taken a dive out the window and left a crater and a bunch of hamburger, you’d refer to them in the past tense. Normally I’d be a little more … sensitive to the situation, but you seem pretty chill about the whole affair.”
“Kaylan’s not gone,” said Liselle. She looked between them, the man with the beautiful light inside him, and the Shield that stood at his side. Should she trust these two? Should she tell them about her family? Could they really fix things? So many had tried, so very many, and Liselle had seen them all fail.
That’s why we’re going to kick their asses. Because we need to. Because no one else is going to. Because we can.
Liselle knew she shouldn’t have taken this man to her bed, but it had seemed so right. It didn’t just seem right — it was right. By the Father, but it feels so good to be human. How can Kaylan want to end this? It felt good, and natural, and everything that this world was meant to give to its people. Love, and happiness, and life. She nodded to herself, then turned to the broken window. Dawn would be here within a few hours, light cascading like a slow waterfall over the city.
“Baby?” John was behind her, a touch at her elbow, his scent all around. She closed her eyes, breathed it in. It was forbidden. It was wonderful.
Kaylan rode the lightning so she could begin again. She put a hand over his. Liselle felt the weight of the words before she said them, the despair welling up inside her. The things she must say, should say, mustn’t say, could never say. She licked her lips, closed her eyes for a moment. If this beautiful man stayed with her, no matter that he thought he could fix it, he would surely die. And she couldn’t let that happen. This one human, this one, perfect man, this one at least she could save. She opened her eyes. “I think … I think you better go.”
The Night's Champion Collection: A supernatural werewolf thriller trilogy Page 85