“Yes, we have. A man who calls himself Ian Carmichael, though the dossier on him was pretty light. He made it onto her page when the two of them met up here in Chicago right around the time Peter Dawes was turned. The man himself hasn’t been caught with his hand in any cookie jars.”
“Not as of Nineteen Eighty-Four,” I said as I glanced at the first page. The Fates had smiled down on me once more. Wesley had been forced from the Order before he could see the name Flynn attached to my dossier. “So what has Master Carmichael been up to in the time being?”
“Oh, you know how vampires are. They think we’re lazy, and in part, they’re right. The Order’s been taking out enough of their lackeys, but not doing enough in the way of reconnaissance.” I heard him sigh. “We’ve been trying to figure out this bastard’s plans, but the bloodsucker’s cronies won’t talk. Not even with a stake pressed against their chest.”
His use of prejudicial parlance made me wince. “No, a vampire would sooner perish than reveal his hand to a mortal. Especially if he is part of a larger scheme.”
“No kidding.”
I looked up from his notes. “But you suspect he has been searching for a seer?”
“More than suspect it. I’ll admit we’re linking together some back door discussions with the fact that one of his ‘friends’ got their hooks into Lydia’s killer, but if there’s anything the Order taught me, it was that The Fates don’t work in coincidences. Especially not back-to-back.”
“Duly noted.” Lifting the book, I furrowed my brow. “Do you mind if I borrow this? I would like to acquaint myself better with your observations.”
Wesley flipped his hand in my direction. “By all means. The Council’s been no help to us. Hell, I was dismissed when I tried to push Malcolm Davies’ buttons a little too hard and now, we’re written off as vigilantes. They won’t even send a sorcerer to sniff around.”
“What Wes is trying to say is that you’re a godsend, Flynn,” Jesse said, entering the discussion anew. “We can’t shake down the vamps, but you can read their thoughts. Maybe even find a way to get a few of ‘em to talk.”
I perked an eyebrow at him. “If any of them are so inclined. It would not be the first time I have had to coerce a vampire into divulging information. I simply…” Hesitating, I searched for the diplomatic way to word my statement. “… am used to applying more finesse.”
“Apply all the finesse you want. Lather, rinse, and repeat if necessary. Point of fact is those bloody bastards won’t know what hit them.” Jesse smiled broadly. “We’ve got a seer with us now.”
He and Mark exchanged a laugh. I managed a half-hearted grin, but looked away lest my reaction tip my hand. I might have lost my taste for vampiric decadence, but the braggadocio which marked my immortal brethren extended across human kind as well. The Supernatural Order wore its colors and these amateur vampire hunters bore its banner as well. Our discussion had made me all too aware I was surrounded by yet another group of people who would condemn me if they knew exactly what I was.
Suppressing a sigh, I glanced back at the others and nodded. “I shall do what must be done,” I said, my eyes finding Monica in the hopes the implied request for an end to this meeting stretched from one soul to the other. She nodded and I came to a stand, slipping Wesley’s book into my coat while doing so. “This is quite a bit to process for one evening, gentlemen. I would appreciate the chance to do so. Then we can storm the proverbial palace gates.”
“Be sure to keep us in the loop, Flynn,” Wesley said. His smile appeared more forced, something unreadable looming behind his eyes. “I’d like to think of us all as a team now. For the sake of humanity.”
“Yes, the sake of humanity.” A tidal wave of sarcasm threatened to crest an already straining levee. I lifted my hand in a salute and turned away, pausing only when Monica lifted her hand and reached for my arm again. Feeling her fingers encircle me provided the first moment of comfort I had experienced the entire evening. I drew a deep breath inward and flashed a small grin in her direction as we made our way out of the restaurant.
While none of the humans we passed along the way bore any suspicious quality to them, I swore I saw a man twist in his bar stool the moment we walked past. As much as my instincts begged take a better look, I had weathered enough for the night. Glancing away before he and I could make eye contact, I focused instead on the door held open by my watcher. The weights lifted from my shoulders the moment the chilly March air hit me again.
Monica paused under the awning to adjust her gloves. I shook my head, waiting for the door to swing shut behind us as though Wesley, Mark, and Jesse possessed the ability to hear me from the inside. “I swear, it is an epidemic,” I said, turning to face her. “Every being in the cosmos has a superiority complex.”
“They’re zealous,” Monica said, glancing from her hands to me. She shook them once, then closed the small gap between us and touched my arm again. “When you’re convinced you’re on the right side of a cause, you can get cocky. Isn’t that right, Mr. Kill-All-The-Humans-And-Risk-Starving?” Smirking, she lifted an eyebrow at me.
I frowned. “Yes, well, I thought vampires are supposed to be the vain ones. Not these baptized defenders of humanity.”
“Well, at least we have an interesting lead.” The manner in which she tugged at my arm suggested a request to move away from the front of the establishment. I relented, strolling with her down the walkway and to the main thoroughfare. The rain had relented enough to become a slight drizzle. Monica waited for a few paces before continuing. “Wesley was pretty observant when he worked for my father. You never know what he might have in his notes.”
I felt Monica’s eyes on me, entreating me to look back at her. My frown became a grimace, which begat an exasperated huff. “I suppose you are right,” I said noncommittally.
Her facial expression sank. “What is it, Flynn?”
“I simply have a bad feeling about all of this. If there are vampires more ambitious than Sabrina about, these recreational hunters risk being slain. Besides, I question their usefulness. They wish to be ‘team players’ when they are not on the same field of play as you and me.”
It took a moment, but Monica brightened. The corner of her mouth curled upward. “You don’t like not being the big cat on campus, do you?”
I scoffed. “As though any of them could hold a candle.”
“Oh, absolutely not. Humor me, though. You don’t have to get chummy with them, just think of them as resources and let them figure out when they’re in over their heads. I think Wes just wants to ride your coattails back to his job in Seattle.”
“He shall be in for a rude awakening, then.”
“I’ve had the thought. We have more important things to worry about, though.”
We rounded a corner and I looked down at her, regarding her for several interminable moments before it drew her attention back up to me. The smirk she had worn seconds prior turned into a nervous smile. “What?” she asked, a blush taunting at her cheeks.
I chuckled and allowed our bodies to drift closer together. “Give me your thoughts, watcher,” I said. “What has bewitched my kind such that they would upset such a tenuous balance?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Wesley is right that the Council has a laundry list of problems. Hell, it was them dragging their feet on the whole matter of you that led to this three ring circus. At the same time, I know the Order believes your turning wasn’t anything more than an ambitious woman’s prerogative. If it had anything to do with wanting a seer, nobody in the Council is letting on.”
“And undoubtedly, I was meant to uncover all of this.”
“Everything happens for a reason.”
“Quite so. Your recommended course of action?”
She smiled. “I need a cup of coffee and a really cheesy late night flick. Mind if curl up on the couch with you and watch TV?”
I laughed. “I meant with regard to our current conundrum.”
“You
don’t like cheesy movies?”
“I…” Shaking my head, I pulled my arm gently from her grip and lifted it to wrap around her shoulders. I swore I heard her giggle as she placed a hand upon my back, her cheek touching my chest and her body leaning into mine. I indulged a broad smile. “And now, who is failing to stay on task, Miss Alexander? Which… also begs the question of how the sister of a woman named Davies has a different surname.”
“My mother kept her maiden name. And tomorrow’s another night.” Her warmth saturated me, breaking the pervasive cold surrounding us. She paused, the air becoming heavy around us again if just momentarily. “We’ll see what Wesley has to offer in the way of notes and do our own investigating. We have one advantage in this situation that other seers wouldn’t. I think it could become useful.”
“What advantage is that?”
“Your immortality.” She winked. “I think a pack of vampires will be more willing to talk with a kindred, then a bunch of ‘recreational hunters’.”
My hand settled on her arm as I nodded. “Yes, my dear. I do believe you may be right about that.” As I reciprocated the wink, she rolled her eyes. Together, we walked the rest of the way to our temporary apartment. A comfortable silence settled between us, but in the wind I felt that strange sensation take up residence again, reminding me that in my struggles to understand the human world I could at least be myself with her. Against my better judgment, I agreed to her night of relaxation and held her in my arms as the screen before us flickered with the images of a black and white movie. She fell asleep on the couch beside me, and I carried her into her room before settling in myself.
The witch confounded me. The world still belonged to the miscreants and the hypocrites, and as I settled in to rest, I held no delusions that the evil within me would not echo tomorrow as well. One thing had made itself manifest, though, whether or not either of us intended it to be as such. I could almost begin to believe she was right, that something else lay deep inside, buried beneath the monster. It was a chord which resonated every moment we spent together.
Being with her was when I connected with my humanity the most.
Chapter Twelve
My coat removed and sleeves rolled up, I sat in the living room chair with my legs propped up on the coffee table the next evening. A brief walk to one of the local eateries had yielded dinner for Monica, and now the black notebook given to me by Wesley rested in one hand, my eyes tracing across the well-worn pages. A broad smile defied the studious posture I maintained.
“Well, his instincts have him convinced something is awry,” I said, “But his entire body of work centers on fragments of conversation and bits of discussions I would consider standard fare for an immortal.” Turning a page, I continued perusing the scribbles of a man flirting near the edge of madness. Each chapter bore another retelling of his struggles against the local vampires. Each piece was one melodramatic tale after another. The further I delved into it, the more I wished to laugh. “Monica, tell me something. Is Wesley unhinged?”
Monica sighed, ignoring my question for the time being. She stood several feet away, sipping from a cup of freshly-brewed coffee while searching Wesley’s bookcase. I brought my own mug to my lips and tasted a hint of blood added to its contents when I imbibed another hearty swallow. Tempted though I was to ask if the taste meant my watcher had cut herself on my account, I withheld the question in an effort to avoid an argument.
I also fought the compulsion to envision what it might be like to sink my teeth in her neck again.
Instead, I set the mug down and turned another page. Reading further, I laughed. “Not only does the man think he is being stalked, he believes every immortal he encounters is as vicious as I was. For instance, the last vampire he killed he describes as a ‘sadistic female who attempted to lure the three of us all at once.’” My eyes rose to find Monica. “The man would not know sadistic if it flayed him in his sleep. I was sadistic.”
She failed to make eye contact at first. Her fingers settled on the spine of one book and pulled it from the shelf. Weaving around the coffee table, she sat on the adjacent couch and placed the book on her lap. The coffee cup in her hands found itself placed beside where mine rested. “That can’t be all he wrote about,” she said, crossing her legs. Her gaze fell to the volume as she turned to the first page.
“Fairly close thus far.”
“It looks like you’re only a third of the way through the book. The sorcerers are cute straight out of Seattle. They grow up so fast on the field.”
I smirked despite myself, but chased the smile away as though afraid to indulge it. My eyes shifted back to the book when hers failed to engage mine. “I do not know. It still leaves me with an ill feeling about their presence in this investigation. Granted, they do catalogue a few suspicious gatherings in a litany of public places, but they do not even know where Ian’s coven is located.”
She hesitated before responding. “It’s at least a start. And well, you never know. Maybe the vampires here are pretty vicious.”
I scoffed. “Not bloody likely. Baiting three humans at once is mind-numbingly easy for an ambitious neophyte.”
“So says the assassin.”
“So says the one who once claimed a dozen souls over the course of one evening.” A sense of indignation cast a cloud over my disposition. I frowned and turned a page without even reading it. “The man would not have dared seek me out when I was a killer. He would have been dead before the first drops of his blood hit the pavement.”
“What crawled up your ass and died?”
Narrowing my eyes, I refused to look at her, even when I sensed her finally regarding me. “I shall not even honor that with a response.”
A tense silence settled between us. Monica shifted in her seat, lowering one leg to curl both feet under her bottom. As she sighed, I bristled, but marveled in some distant part of my mind over how sour my mood had turned so quickly. It caused my facial expression to soften. “I am being a cad,” I said.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Monica said. A hint of amusement teased at her voice, which at least boded well for her not taking my mood personally. I saw her inch closer to the arm of the couch in my periphery. “Almost wonder if making an observation will get my head bitten off.”
I lifted my head. Perking an eyebrow, I studied her and waited.
A broad smile ran from cheekbone to cheekbone. “You’re using the past tense.”
My brow lowered only to furrow. “I do not follow.”
“You’re talking about yourself in the past tense. It’s the first time I’ve ever caught you doing it this many times in a row. ‘When I was a killer.’ ‘I was sadistic.’”
“What of it?”
She shrugged, shutting her book. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were starting to come around.”
Our eyes locked in a silent stare. The wrinkle in my brow smoothed and I paused in an attempt to recall when I might have referred to myself in such a manner. Her smile broadened when she saw my hesitation, but my stomach somersaulted in response, forcing my gaze away. There it was, a moment of truth and all I had to do was reach out and claim it.
My eyes clenched shut when I saw her mouth open and felt a sermon of reinforcement storming along to port. “Please stop,” I whispered. “I do not wish to hear it.”
I could almost feel the request impact, like I had slapped her without budging from my seat. Several thoughts circled around my mind, some an apology and others a rebuke for how fool-hearted Monica was behaving. Her quixotic faith in me had almost killed her once, and I feared for the day she would be another casualty counted among the others had created. Surprisingly, I found myself preferring the days she viewed me as a threat.
“You’re afraid,” she finally said.
I huffed, opening my eyes again. “I have no idea what you believe me afraid of.”
“You don’t want to admit to yourself you might be changing. You’re so afraid you’ll let your g
uard down.” She lifted a brow, defiant.
I barked a bitter laugh. “I do not see it the same way you do, Monica. You are simply going to have to realize that.”
“But why?” Monica frowned, lowering both feet onto the floor and shimmying to the edge of her seat. Flashes of sympathy intermingled with sparks of frustration, both vying for control. She placed her book on the coffee table beside her coffee mug and folded her hands together. “Continuing to doubt yourself isn’t going to help you along at all.”
“I do not doubt myself.”
“You do. And keep holding yourself back in the process.”
The way she regarded me forced my composure to snap. The dam restraining my fury burst at the same moment I came to a sudden stand. “From what – realizing some greater aptitude? Perhaps you are correct. Perhaps I am afraid admitting what a good boy I have been shall cause me to backslide beyond my control. Or, quite possibly, I see something about myself you remain stubbornly blind toward.” I tossed the black volume onto my chair and gestured with my hands as I continued. “What I meant is that I no longer slit the throats of mortals in a capricious rampage as I once enjoyed doing. This is fact, not whimsy.”
“And saying you’ve come a long way is whimsy?”
“I am still a killer. A reformed one, but a killer nonetheless. And I still possess the will and knowledge with which to slaughter this ‘humanity’ I am supposed to understand.”
“That you refuse to understand.”
“Damn you, woman.” I glowered at her. “What do you desire? For me to pretend to be something I am not?”
Her tone of voice became more pointed. “No, Flynn. I want you to see what you are, deep down inside. Denying yourself isn’t going to make you any good to anybody, because you are different now. You possess the same humanity these people you defend do.”
“Why do you continue to berate me with this?”
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