Life After Humanity

by Gillian St. Kevern

  “That’s me.” George joined the line of hunters. “Catch you later.”

  As the hunters filed through the door, Nate made his way toward Gunn. The officer lit a cigarette, pointedly ignoring the ashtray the receptionist thrust at him.

  Wisner stood next to him. “I’ll be taking the matter of your insubordination up before City Hall. Do you want to have another case of the necromancer on your hands?”

  Gunn blew smoke out lazily. “Go ahead. Let’s find out what City Hall thinks about your refusal to allow us to take any action that might actually find the wolf.”

  Wisner growled. The sound was low, fierce—and not at all human.

  Nate stumbled to a halt.

  His clumsy movement caught Wisner’s attention. The man jerked his head back. As his eyes fell on Nate, he stiffened. His nostrils flared, and he stared at Nate. His eyes were yellow.

  “What are you doing here?” Gunn tapped his cigarette against the front desk. “Please don’t tell me you want in on the werewolf.”

  “I’m here for counseling.” Nate was conscious of Wisner’s hard stare. “It’s one of the conditions of my—”

  “Class three status. Gotcha.” Gunn motioned toward the door. “In the interrogation room. You remember how to find your way there?”

  “I’ll work it out.” Nate hunched his shoulders. Gunn didn’t need to make it sound like he spent regular periods of time being interviewed by the police! Even if he had spent an inordinate amount of time in police company over the last two months…

  Officer Simeon, a pale man with a moon-shaped face, gulped as Nate passed, ushering the last of the hunters into the briefing room. The interrogation room was farther down the hall. Even if Nate hadn’t remembered where to find it, the notice taped to the door would have given it away: Counseling Group-At Risk Supernaturals.

  This can’t be right. Nate pushed the door open. I’m not at risk—and no one said anything about a group!

  The room was just as it had been the last time Nate saw it. Table in the center of the room with a water cooler in one corner. Two of the plastic chairs were already occupied. A girl slouched in her seat. Her long brown hair was styled like something from The Lord of the Rings. She wore a long-sleeved cardigan and a patchwork skirt and was talking to a scowling guy wearing a fedora. He had his elbows on the table and leaned forward, energetically arguing his point. Nate’s confusion increased. Neither of his companions looked like at-risk supernaturals. As he entered the room, they fell silent.

  “Hey.” Nate fought the urge to wipe his hands on his jeans. “I’m supposedly here for counseling. Am I interrupting?”

  “We haven’t started yet.” The girl motioned to the seat beside her. She sat up straight, and Nate realized she was easily as tall as he was. “Um—”

  “Fresh blood.” The guy looked at Nate with undisguised interest. “Well, well. What are you then?”

  Nate gulped. He’d known he’d have to face these sorts of questions, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon! He took the seat offered, conscious that they were both watching him. “Actually—”

  “He’s a witch,” the girl said. Her face was flushed. “I can sense it. You have a very strong connection to the earth.” She wound a thin plait of hair around her finger. “Me, too. Air. I mean—I’m a witch but my strongest connection is to air.”

  What on earth have I gotten myself into? “I’m a Class Three Unknown, actually.”

  “Unknown,” the guy repeated. “Interesting.” His face still wore a scowl, but Nate was beginning to think that was his habitual expression—he didn’t sound annoyed. “I too, prefer to remain an enigma. No labels for me.”

  “Funny.” The door had swung open without them noticing, and Kenzies stood in the doorway. She was a short but powerfully built woman with rust-colored red hair and sharp, tawny eyes. She moved extremely lightly for her heavy build. Setting a pile of files down on the table in front of her, she took a seat at the head of the table. “I can think of plenty.” She looked across the table. “Pleased you could join us, Nate.”

  “Happy to be here,” Nate mumbled. “But I thought these sessions were one-on-one?”

  “Usually they are.” Kenzies settled back in her chair with the ease of someone long inured to their discomfort. “But due to a lack of resources, we had to combine them. Hopefully, we’ll be back to normal in a few weeks. Until then, it’s our hope that the three of you might be able to support each other.” She looked at the other two. “You introduced yourselves?”

  “Just getting to that,” the guy said stiffly. “Greetings, Nate. I am Vazul.” He raised his hat.

  “And I’m Charlotte.” She smiled at him. “It’s great to have you here.”

  Nate ducked his head awkwardly. “It’s cool to meet you.”

  “Now that’s done…” Kenzies opened the file in front of her. “Business.”

  Nate held up his hand. “I’ve got a question.”

  “Go for it, blossom.” Kenzies grinned at him. There was a disconcerting amount of teeth in her smile.

  Werewolf. Right. Nate didn’t know why the reminder of Kenzies’s animal nature was such a surprise to him. He’d seen her as a wolf. “The sign on the door said ‘at risk’?”

  “It’s a new initiative. Started by Councilor ‘Department Seven isn’t overworked enough’ Wisner.” Kenzies rolled her eyes. “Younger supernaturals considered to be at risk of developing dangerous tendencies are closely monitored, introduced to appropriate support networks, and a range of community-focused tasks designed to engender positive self-worth.”

  Vazul sneered. “In other words, we’re to be subjected to arbitrary checkups, forced to account for our time, and made to work as unpaid labor for the good of the city.”

  Nate studied him. Suddenly the “at risk” part made sense.

  “We caught Vazul spray-painting anti-human sentiment onto walls in the city,” Kenzies said, answering Nate’s unasked question.

  “I protest! I was framed—you have no evidence that I was responsible!”

  Kenzies ignored him. “Charlotte’s here for the indiscriminate use of magic in a public place.”

  Charlotte frowned. “It wasn’t indiscriminate! There was this pigeon with an injured wing. I wanted to help it, but it kept running away. So I—called on a wind to gently lift it to me.”

  “You need a Class-Five license for any sort of magic in a public place,” Kenzies reminded her. “And Nate. You’ve added to your file since our last meeting.”

  Nate squirmed. “I don’t think we need to go into that.”

  “You sure? Because I’d really like to know about some of these charges.” Kenzies opened a file. Nate could see his name on the cover. “But hey, as long as you haven’t put any more trees through any walls, we’re moving in the right direction.”

  “Trees?” Vazul frowned.

  “I’m good with plants,” Nate said. “Um. Very good, actually.”

  “Why don’t we start with our plant whisperer then. How are things going, Nate?”

  Nate tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. “Good? I mean—I’m back at work.”

  “Participating in social activities with your peers?”

  “Uh—I went jogging with Aki this morning if that’s what you mean.”

  Kenzies checked off a box. “Threatened anyone with intentional harm or caused or nearly caused injury, inadvertently or otherwise, to anyone this week?”

  Nate stared at her. “No!” Breaking in did not count, right? Because he’d left Ben’s apartment in better condition—

  “Great.” Kenzies closed his file. “Now, Vazul—”

  “My affairs are in order, though I would like to register that I resent being forced to report like a common miscreant.” Vazul leaned forward.

  “Socialized with your peers? Playing World of Warcraft doesn’t count.”

  Vazul scowled. “I don’t see why not. No—unless you count attending tutoring sessions with my so-called ‘peers.�
�”

  “Caused harm?”

  Vazul rolled his eyes. “No—but I have to protest the underlying assumption of your question—”

  There was a knock at the door. Officer Simeon stuck his head around the door and gulped.

  Kenzies swiveled in her chair to face him. “Kind of in the middle of something. It can’t wait?”

  Simeon shook his head. His eyes were pale and prominent. As he gazed across the room, he refused to meet anyone’s eyes. “The hunters want a werewolf perspective.”

  Nate stared. It was the first time he’d ever heard Simeon speak, and the sibilant lisp gave him a distinctly uneasy feeling.

  “What do they think I am, a performing dog?” Kenzies picked up the files. “Talk among yourselves. You can get started on that group bonding.”

  As soon as the door closed behind her, Vazul looked at Nate. “How do you put a tree through a wall?”

  “There were circumstances, okay?” Nate poked at the surface of the table. He hunched his shoulders, avoiding looking at either of his companions.

  “There would have to be. An entire tree?”

  “Just the top half.” Nate bit his lip. He really didn’t want to talk about this. “This werewolf situation’s really serious, huh? I heard a bit about it on the news, but turning up, seeing all those hunters… This is a really big deal.”

  “Don’t you believe it.” Vazul leaned back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest. “It’s all a contrived spectacle.”

  “But the werewolf—are you saying there isn’t one?”

  Charlotte tucked her plait of hair behind her ear. “He’s out there all right. But he isn’t dangerous.” Her eyes darted across the table. “As a matter of fact, he’s the third member of this group.”

  “No way.” Nate followed her gaze to the empty chair. “And he’s gone rogue?”

  Vazul snorted. “Grant’s not the type to do something like that. He’s the responsible member of the group.”

  Charlotte nodded. “I think being around Kenzies was hard for him—wolves tend to rub each other the wrong way—but they also got each other in a way the rest of us didn’t. He was pretty much the poster child for the success of this program.”

  “Huh.” Nate frowned. “So what happened?”

  “Nothing.” Vazul slapped the table. “This entire thing is a farce.”

  Nate remembered the reception area crowded with hunters. “It can’t be nothing. Every hunter in the city is out there looking for him!”

  “All that happened is that the guy left his house one day and didn’t come back. Ludicrous! The guy is a young man in his prime. Of course he is going to go out—”

  “He didn’t come back? But that’s a big deal, isn’t it?” Nate was still in trouble for going home after the necromancer attacks and not giving the department his address.

  “He didn’t get the chance,” Charlotte said. “His pack freaked out and the city launched a manhunt—”

  “So even if he was planning on coming home, he couldn’t—not without being arrested,” Vazul finished. “The entire situation is preposterous.”

  Charlotte nodded eagerly. “Grant suspects it was planned—”

  Nate sat up. “Wait. You’ve talked to him?”

  Charlotte and Vazul shared a glance. “At the start,” Charlotte said. “Before things spiraled into the mess they are now.”

  “And we have no idea where he is now.” Vazul scowled. “So it’s no good getting on your high horse and telling us to come clean. We know nothing that can help the department—not that they’re going to be deterred from this counseling farce.”

  “Are you saying that the counseling is a—” Nate hesitated.

  “A front to keep us under observation?” Charlotte picked a piece of fluff off her sleeve. “I thought so—until you showed up.”

  “The city’s on edge since the necromancer attacks,” Vazul agreed. “Individual supernatural rights are getting trampled just to make the public feel safe.” He slung his satchel onto the table and started digging through it. “I produce a pro-supernatural rights newsletter. My latest editorial—”

  Kenzies opened the door. “Sorry, kids. We’re going to have to cut this short. My colleagues are apparently unable to deal with such high technology as PowerPoint without me.”

  Charlotte and Vazul stood, and Nate hastily followed. From their attitudes, he gathered this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.

  Kenzies stepped back so they could file out of the doorway past her. “Any news of our mutual friend?”

  “None,” said Vazul loftily. “And I resent your use of ‘our.’ You’re not Grant’s friend.”

  “Why aren’t you looking for him?” Charlotte asked. “As a werewolf, wouldn’t that give you an advantage?”

  Kenzies smiled grimly. “You’d think so. But Wisner isn’t thrilled with the idea of a wolf that is outside his jurisdiction entering his pack’s territory.”

  “Strange,” Vazul said. “It’s almost like he doesn’t want Grant found.” He walked away, Charlotte hurrying after him.

  Nate hesitated.

  Kenzies gave him a brief smile. “That wasn’t that bad, was it, petal?”

  And I thought it couldn’t get any worse than ‘blossom.’ “I guess not. It wasn’t entirely what I was expecting.”

  “It never is.” Kenzies glanced at the files she held. “Next session is the same time next week. See you then—providing you can go a week without incident.”

  Nate snorted. “You make it sound like I’m some sort of trouble magnet.”

  Kenzies raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

  IT WAS A long walk back to the apartment from Department Seven, but without bus fare, Nate had no other choice. As he approached their building, Nate was still turning over the events of that morning. Trouble magnet? What is with everyone giving me a hard time today? First Aki, then Kenzies… “It’s not like I actively go looking to endanger myself.”

  A sudden sound to his right made him jump. Something in the alley beside the apartment block had moved. Nate looked around, but he was the only person in sight.

  That’s definitely suspicious. Nate climbed back down the stairs. Smoking’s not against the law, so why hide? And if they’re not smoking, why would anyone be lurking in an alley next to an apartment block unless they were up to something?

  At first glance, the alley was empty. The dumpster was full and residents had stacked their excess rubbish bags beside it ready for collection. One of the bags had been torn open, its contents strewn across the concrete.

  An animal? New Camden’s crows were notorious for getting into things. Nate peered down the alley and caught movement in the shadows beyond the sofa that had been sitting there ever since 5-A moved out. “Hey. You again.”

  The dog from the park raised its ears. He stepped cautiously into the alley, his tail beginning to wag. Evidently, he recognized Nate.

  “Looking for a meal, huh? I guess those hot dogs wouldn’t feed a dog for long.” Nate held out his hand. “Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  The dog padded up to him, happily accepting the petting.

  Totally someone’s pet. Nate bit his lip. His owner clearly cared for the dog—he was too well socialized not to have come from a caring home—but something must have happened for the dog to end up on the street.

  Nate remembered Aki’s words and straightened. Not your problem. Wherever the dog’s owner was, they could find him themselves. “Good dog. Hope you find something more appealing than trash.”

  The dog sat back on his hind legs and looked up at Nate. His tail beat the ground.

  Nate shook his head. “Sorry. I’m all out of hot dogs.” He turned, climbing the stairs to the automatic doors.

  As he keyed in the entry code, Nate became aware of a pressure between his shoulder blades, as if he was being closely observed. He turned.

  The dog stood behind him on the stairs. His tail began to work again.

  �
��Oh no.” Nate shook his head. “No way. You wouldn’t believe the fit Aki would throw—and I’m pretty sure there was a no-pet clause in our lease.”

  The dog took a step toward him. His yellow eyes, turned pleadingly upon Nate, shone in the dim light.

  “I said no, and I meant it.” Nate turned, stepping quickly through the door. He pulled it shut behind him before the dog could dart in.

  Success!

  Nate hit the button for the elevator. Not quite such a pushover, after all. Aki would have to eat his words.

  The elevator doors opened. Nate stepped in, turning to hit the button for the seventh floor. His eyes met those of the dog, watching him mournfully through the glass door. His tail, his ears—everything about the dog—drooped.

  Nate wavered.

  Chapter Three

  THE REGISTRY WAS located in a stone building, built in Neo-Gothic style. Dwarfed by surrounding skyscrapers, the building was in deep shadow, even this late in the morning. There was something distinctly sepulchral in the columns and arches of the building, something that reminded Ben way too closely of a crypt. He hesitated before the main door, clutching his application in his hands.

  “For what it’s worth, I think you’re making a big mistake.” George stuck her hands in her jean pockets.

  Ben shot her a look. “If you think it’s a mistake, why did you come?”

  George shrugged. “It’s a mistake that’s important to you. Though I got to ask, you’re serious about this whole declassification thing?”

  He looked down at the papers he held. “Absolutely.”

  “Think of what you’re giving up.” George motioned extravagantly. The two guys slouched against the building’s wall gave her a strange look. “A life of excitement, of danger, of high risk—and even higher rewards!”

  “I was never in hunting for the money.”

  “That’s only part of it! Admit it—you liked knowing that at the end of the day, New Camden was a safer place because of you.”

  Ben winced. As a vampire, he’d known that at any moment, if he lowered his guard he stood the risk of losing control, killing innocents or—worst of all—dooming other people to share his fate. “I’m okay with being ordinary.”