Life After Humanity

by Gillian St. Kevern

  “One of the reasons.” Ben wriggled back in the armchair. “I don’t want to go back to my former life.”

  “And that is why you have cut ties so dramatically with your past. Is that wise, I wonder?”

  Ben blinked. “But they’re vampires! You know the effect vampires have on those around them—”

  “It is a great challenge in treating them,” Wellbeloved agreed. “I have to put on the crucifix just to make sure I do not tell my vampire patients what they want to hear.”

  Despite himself, Ben’s mouth curved. “There’s a difference between counseling vampires and living with them.”

  “And that is my point! They were your family. I’m not going to urge you to renew dangerous relationships, but I think it is important to acknowledge the importance of such ties. Diya tells me you have made no new friends since then. You have not made the effort?”

  Ben fought the urge to blush. Diya had asked him if there was anyone besides George who could attest to his personality and actions since becoming human, and he’d been forced to admit to his complete lack of social life. “No. I don’t—feel like it. It’s hard to summon energy for anything but the really important things.”

  “Like?” Wellbeloved raised his eyebrows at him. “You’re a young man in his twenties. What could be more important than establishing a social group?”

  “My application for a start.” Wellbeloved knew how crucial this was. Ben forced himself to breathe evenly. Maybe it’s a test.

  “Could it be that this application is a crutch? Do you say to yourself, when my application is accepted I will apply to jobs or to school or find friends.”

  “Um—”

  “You do not need to say yes. The answer is on your face. You have put your life on hold while you pursue this application.”

  Ben looked down. “It’s not for long. The application—well, I never expected it to be this complicated—but it shouldn’t take more than a few weeks.”

  Wellbeloved was not impressed. He leaned his elbows on his polished wood desk. “It is most important not to deceive ourselves. Could it be you’re afraid of living?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Ben snapped.

  Wellbeloved raised his eyebrows, and Ben immediately felt foolish. Instead of pointing out that Ben was again on the defensive, he asked in a mild tone, “What does living mean to you?”

  The question took him by surprise. “Well—freedom.” Ben frowned as he considered this. “Feeling things—emotions, I mean. Getting close to people without hurting them.”

  “And freedom means also the risk of failure. Of having your feelings hurt, or friends leaving you.”

  Ben shook his head. “I’ve been hurt. As a vampire—” He paused, not sure he wanted to get into this with the doctor. Sympathetic as the man seemed, he was an employee of the Registry.

  But Wellbeloved’s expression was simply thoughtful. “Judging current relationships by the past is not fair.”

  “Nate—” Ben cut himself off abruptly.

  Wellbeloved straightened up. “So there is a special someone in your life? Diya will be delighted. It will help your case immensely to provide evidence that you are forming relationships—a support network, if you will.”

  Ben shook his head. “Nate is not being brought into this.”

  “Why not? It is very important to show that you are a rounded personality—”

  “I can’t expose Nate to the scrutiny of the Registry,” Ben said flatly.

  Wellbeloved tilted his head. “He is supernatural too, then?”

  “This is—confidential, isn’t it?”

  Wellbeloved nodded. “When I make my recommendation, I will speak in general terms of your state of mind. The details will remain between both of us. If it would make you feel more at ease, I will put down my pen.” He capped it and laid it on his desk with a flourish. “There you are!”

  Ben looked down. Far from reassuring, Wellbeloved’s actions had left him on edge, wondering how much he’d already exposed. “Because of me, Nate got caught up in the necromancer’s attacks. He almost died. In fact, for a long time, I believed he had died.”

  Wellbeloved made a sympathetic clucking sound. “And his near death was…?”

  “Devastating.” Ben wrapped his arms around himself. Just the thought of it made him feel cold. “I couldn’t go through that again.”

  Wellbeloved simply nodded.

  Ben stared at him. For the first time, the chill he was experiencing made sense. “I am afraid.”

  “Again, it is a perfectly natural reaction. The mind does not like emotional pain any more than it likes physical pain. It will come up with ways to protect you from it. But if you allow it to fool you and hold yourself back from life, you risk life passing you by.”

  Ben swallowed. His skin felt clammy. “What should I do?”

  “That is something you need to work out yourself.”

  “Your job—”

  “Merely to assess your state of mind. And I will tell you, Bennet, that I have found you to be a young man who has been through some very tough times but is showing remarkable strength of character in how he deals with them.”

  Ben’s mouth was dry. “Thank you.”

  Wellbeloved wagged a finger at him. “I will not add that in some ways he makes things more difficult on himself than he needs to. You have been given a great burden for one man. You need not feel ashamed to ask others for help.” He took a business card out of the holder on his desk and turned it over to jot down a number on the back. “If you discover you need help, I am here. This is my after-hours number.”

  Ben took the card with a hand that was strangely tremulous. “Thank you.”

  Wellbeloved shook his hand. “You have a lot of work to do still,” he said. “And I trust I will see you again, if only to hear how it goes.”

  Outside in the street, Ben took a deep breath and leaned back against the brick wall of Wellbeloved’s offices. The sun warmed his face and he shut his eyes, reveling in its warmth. Normal! He thinks I’m normal!

  One sliver of cold remained. But you didn’t tell him about the vampire, did you?

  That was a fluke. It’s not happening again. Pushing the thought aside, Ben fished in his pocket for his phone.

  Nate answered on the third ring. “Ben?”

  “Hey.” Ben turned aside, so the pedestrians passing by wouldn’t see his grin. “I was rethinking that normal date suggestion of yours.”

  “You’re serious?” There was no mistaking the enthusiasm in Nate’s voice.

  Ben nodded, forgetting Nate wouldn’t be able to see him. “Very.”

  “I’m working tonight, but if you wanted to hang out—”

  “Not Century.” Ben bit his lip. In all the excitement surrounding the werewolf and having his statement taken, he’d not been able to keep his curfew. Kenzies had assured him that since he’d been in the company of Department Seven officers it didn’t count, but he wondered if the review committee, of which Wisner was one, would see it in the same light. “I was thinking tomorrow afternoon.”

  “An actual date, huh?”

  “I was thinking we could just hang out. Maybe get a coffee together.”

  “Sounds good,” Nate said promptly.

  “All right. I have one appointment tomorrow. I’ll call you after that.” Ben hung up and dropped his phone into his pocket with a smile. His heart gave conflicting signals. It beat rapidly, as if warning him of danger, but his entire chest was infused with warmth.

  Ben placed a hand over his chest curiously. Is this living at last? For so long he’d been cold, this warmth seemed unbelievable. And it’s because of Nate. When Wellbeloved said that he shouldn’t feel ashamed to ask others for help, did that mean maybe—

  Some warning sense pulled Ben’s attention to his peripheral vision. A man lingered in a doorway. As Ben caught sight of him, he ducked out of sight, but not before Ben had recognized him. The werewolf watching us at the park.

  His
feeling of warmth gone, Ben started walking toward his next appointment.

  “SO YOU AGREE that it is likely Wisner is having me followed?” Ben leaned out the window of Diya’s office. It was on the second floor of the Registry and afforded an excellent view over the pavement. He couldn’t see the werewolf, but the man was loitering outside the apartment building when Ben had left that morning. He knew the man was out there, somewhere. “And there’s nothing we can do about it?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Diya watched him with a concerned expression. “As part of this process, the committee is free to pursue an independent inquiry into your circumstances. That includes placing you under surveillance for the period of time that your case is in question.”

  Ben narrowed his eyes. “If he’s hoping to find evidence of me being anything but a model citizen, he’s out of luck. The only thing his spies have seen was me picking up rubbish and attending my psychiatric evaluation yesterday—which went very well, by the way.”

  “I know. Wellbeloved already rang to let me know the results were on their way. He’s very impressed by you.” But Diya didn’t smile.

  Ben glanced over his shoulder at her. She sat at her desk, wearing a charcoal-colored trouser suit, with a vibrant scarf around her neck as a burst of color. Bright colors seemed to be Diya’s trademark. Her office furniture was sleek and monochrome, but there were accents of color around the office in the forms of an electric-pink cushion on the chair, the picture frames of her black-and-white photos, and the case of her laptop. He made his way back to the chair but, instead of sitting, leaned against it. “What’s on your mind?”

  Diya’s smile was more rueful than amused. “The psychiatric report is only the first step. We need to build a complete case. I’ve forwarded the necessary paperwork to Department Seven—”

  “I know. Gunn told me.” Ben slid into the chair properly. “Bad news on that front. Gunn as good as told me he isn’t going to sign it.” He gave Diya the bare bones of his conversation with the lemur.

  Diya frowned, leaning forward. “Did you stress the urgency of your situation?”

  Ben snorted. “To Gunn, that’s even more of a reason not to fill out my application.”

  Diya hesitated, picking up a pencil from her desk. “There is an alternative.” She dropped her gaze to her desk surface. “If you allowed ARX to examine you—”

  “No way.” Ben scrambled to his feet.

  Diya gripped the pencil tightly. “ARX’s reputation has suffered recently, but they are still a widely respected source of knowledge in supernatural affairs, and the City council relies on them greatly. They’re also the most respected authority on vampires in this country. What’s more, they know you, know your history… Surely you see that a recommendation from them carries much more weight than from someone only casually acquainted with you.”

  “No!”

  Diya flinched. Her fingers clutched at the scarf tangled around her throat. The movement was so slight that if Ben had not once been a vampire he would not have noticed it—but he had been. And he saw.

  There was an ugly patch of raised skin on Diya’s neck. That’s no ordinary scar. Ben looked down blankly. That was caused by fangs—

  When a vampire fed with permission, the result was two deep puncture wounds. When the victim struggled, it looked more like an attack by a wild animal. Ben was in no doubt about what he’d seen. That was a vampire. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess my past with ARX is still a bit raw.” He sat down.

  Diya swallowed. “I’m aware of your feelings about ARX, but I have to urge you to reconsider. Without Department Seven or ARX approval, your case is extremely shaky.”

  “I know.” Ben put his palms on his knees. “Believe me, I’ve been considering the risk—and the risk that ARX poses to my freedom is just not worth it.”

  Diya pursed her lips. For a moment, Ben thought she was going to argue with him, but instead, she looked down at the paper in front of her. “As you feel that strongly, I’ll look into alternatives. But I hope that you’ll keep what I’ve told you today in mind. The Final Register is just that—final. There can be no appeals—because no one will remember you.”

  BEN RAISED HIS hand to the doorbell of the apartment Nate and Aki shared. His interview with Diya still troubled him, but if anything, their talk had made him more aware of how important Nate was. It was as if his interview with Wellbeloved had released a pressure inside of him, allowing feeling to flow again. Maybe I didn’t have to try so hard. Maybe I was human all this time.

  When he pressed the buzzer, a noise rose inside the apartment—a noise that sounded suspiciously like a barking dog.

  “Fluffy, stop that! Shush—no barking!” Nate’s voice. “Quick, Aki. Take him in your room!”

  “I don’t want it!”

  “We have to hide him somewhere—”

  Ben tried the door handle. The door wasn’t locked. It swung open, revealing a scene straight out of a sitcom.

  Nate was holding the dog, a woolly vaguely tribble-like collection of fur and teeth. As the door opened, he twisted in Nate’s arms, continuing to bark.

  “Ben!” Nate had guilt written all over his face. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  Ben raised an eyebrow. “That you’ve adopted a stray dog? You know the apartments all have a strict no-pet rule.” He pulled the door shut behind him, nodding to Aki, who was leaning in the doorframe of his room. “Hi, Aki.”

  “We haven’t adopted him,” Nate said. The dog continued to bark, fighting to free himself from Nate’s hold and finally, with a twist of his entire body, succeeded. He immediately ran over to smell Ben’s legs. “He’s got an owner. We’re just looking after him until his owner collects him.”

  “And who is his owner?” Ben stretched out a hand to pat the dog, but it leaped back out of range.

  “That’s the question.” Aki snorted. “Whoever it is, they didn’t even put their phone number on the dog’s collar. Which is pretty smart if you ask me. They knew there’d be no way anyone could trace the dog back to them.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  The dog had continued to back away from Ben. It now stood beside Nate, starting to bark again.

  “Mason’s Park.” Nate absently scratched the dog’s ears. “He’s really friendly. He can’t have been on his own long. I’m sure we’ll track down his owner in no time.”

  “Can I see his collar?” Ben took a step forward.

  The dog bared its teeth and snarled.

  Ben froze in surprise. “Friendly?”

  “Stop that! Jeez—” Nate crouched, keeping a firm hand on the dog’s collar. “I don’t know what’s come over him. He hasn’t reacted like this to anyone else.”

  “Clearly the dog has good taste.” Aki smirked.

  “Maybe he’s just surprised. I mean, as far as he knows this is his home. You’re the first visitor we’ve had.” Nate fished the dog’s collar out of his voluminous fur. “There? See what I mean? They’re not words, they’re just symbols.”

  “Runes.” With a wary eye on the dog, Ben took a step forward to peer at the collar. “That’s not a name. It looks like an inscription—no. A spell—”

  The dog twisted frantically in Nate’s grasp. It managed to wrest itself free and darted across the room.

  “Oh no you don’t!” Nate ran after it. The dog feinted one way and then the other, and Nate narrowly missed colliding with the coffee table.

  Ben straightened, watching the chase. The apartment was small, much smaller than his own, and the furnishings were definitely not in the same league. The surface of the coffee table had obvious stains and was littered with Aki’s notes—he was in the third year of a degree in physical therapy. The sofa the dog now ducked behind and the two armchairs filled the room completely. Any more and it would have been crowded. And it’s still miles more comfortable than my apartment.

  Ben stepped out of Nate’s way, considering the furnishings. They weren’t likely to win any interior des
ign awards. None of the chairs matched, being castoffs from those of Aki’s college friends who had graduated to real jobs. The bookcase had been scavenged from a dumpster, and the TV was secondhand. But the divergent elements were linked. A hand-knit woolen blanket was thrown over the sofa, and bright cerulean cushions were dotted about the sofa and chairs. The same color had been used to paint the bookcase, the pot beside the TV which was home to a spiky plant, and the frames of two black-and-white photographs. Ben stepped forward to take a closer look at the pictures.

  “Why would anyone want to cast a spell on some dumb mutt’s collar?” Aki watched the chase with a frown. “Not on the sofa, you pest!”

  “Lots of reasons. It could be to keep the wearer of the collar from wandering off or meant to ward off danger. I’d need a close look to identify the spell.” Ben considered the photos. Although both were black-and-white, there the similarity ended. One captured a figure caught in a spotlight. The person’s features were blurred as they moved at a speed too quickly for the camera to follow. The lighting suggested a stage and the figure suggested dance. The combination said “Aki” as clearly as if his name had been on it.

  The other photo just as clearly said “Nate.” It played with the contrast of light and dark, but this time the medium was sunlight falling through a canopy of leaves and onto on a mossy log. The light illuminated the furry tendrils of the moss and made the drop of water on the end of a single toadstool shine like a diamond. It was stillness, and Ben felt a sense of peace just looking at it.

  “Beatrice,” Aki said. “A house-warming present. Mandy made the cushions.”

  Ben turned hastily. He hadn’t realized his scrutiny had been so obvious. “The place looks great. Already you’ve made it look so—lived in.” As he spoke the words, he couldn’t help but think of his own apartment above their heads. Is that what it’s missing? Being lived in?

  Aki sniffed, opening his mouth—but before he could correct Ben, the dog dove through his legs, seeking shelter in Aki’s room. “Get out of there! My room is strictly off-limits—Nate! It’s under my bed!”