by Peter Dawes
“Things have changed in a decade. What more can I say?”
As I focused on arranging my luggage somewhere out of the way, I felt his eyes on me; heard his bed creak beneath his weight as he lowered himself on top of the mattress. Stripping my coat, I draped it across a chair that had been placed in the corner, adjacent to a desk and a dresser beside that with a television resting on top of it. Giving the modern, yet comfortable, furnishings a passing glance, I determined that I did not care to examine them any further. Nothing about this trip threatened to be pleasurable.
“You’re concerning me,” Robin finally offered, breaking the silence between us.
I produced a bitter laugh, peering up at him at last. “I would apologize, but I’m not sure how to go about beginning to.” Looking toward my suitcase again, I thought about the clothing I had packed and wondered if I should hang it, assuming Robin had already tended to his. All the same, I lacked the wherewithal, choosing instead to walk around and settle on the side of my bed facing my brother. His eyes met mine, but for a minute I chose to study him rather than ask him any questions yet.
He looked tired, though I could not determine if that was my own fatigue lending itself to the observation. As his blue eyes traced over me, I felt thoughts ebbing toward me and closed myself off to them, not wanting his honest appraisal. “What have you discovered over the past few weeks?” I finally asked.
Robin nodded, folding his hands on his lap. “I wish I could say I had more to show for the effort, but I don’t,” he said. “It started as a matter of locating where Patrick might be hiding. I’ve since determined that he isn’t hiding, insomuch as he seems to be moving around. Aside from one brush I had with him, I haven’t come close to crossing paths with him in over a month.”
“I fear I might have, though I can’t determine whether that was him or Sabrina.”
The admission forced Robin to sober. His posture straightened, eyes focusing on me more intently. “What happened? I’ve not had the chance to call Ophelia. Other matters have been more pressing.”
“Understandable.” While saying the word, I failed to latch onto it with any sort of veracity. My gaze lowered to my hands, the anger I had fostered since Toronto kicking up like dust during a wind storm. Some distant corner of my mind – belonging to either me or Flynn – wished that Robin had deigned to stay home. Drawing a deep breath inward, I held onto it for several moments before releasing it slowly. “The long story short is that Monica is gone. One of them spirited her out of Toronto.”
Something about the statement added an extra weight onto my heart. What little resolve I had cobbled together to sustain myself throughout the journey threatened to crumble, an onslaught of grief and guilt afflicting me. Inside my mind, I saw Monica running away and felt the wounds she had cut within me bleed anew. “I should have known better,” I said. “I thought her vampire nature had simply gotten the better of her, as I explained over the phone to you a few days prior.”
“Yes, I admit I wondered what must have happened in the interim,” Robin said. “I should have been arriving back in Toronto tonight. I regret thinking I had some time to bring matters here to a close.”
I shook my head, biting back the urge to cry. “I never thought to question its source. Because until that moment, everything had been fine. Monica had been adapting perfectly to vampire life – even beyond my initial expectations. She never fully remembered herself, but it was still her personality. Her demeanor, down to the flickers of curiosity with which she approached immortality. She spoke like my wife and thought like my wife and I began...” The words seized in my throat. Emotion swelled within my chest, bearing knives poised to stab me repeatedly. I clenched my eyes shut, fighting a losing battle. “... I began to believe we might relish an eternity together. What a farce that had been.”
“Brother...” The sound of him standing preceded him walking over to where I sat, settling on the bed beside me. I leaned into his embrace as he wrapped an arm around me, his hand settling on my back. “Don’t indulge the misery,” he said. “Patrick wants you the defeated lover instead of the seer, because the former is easier to subdue. If she was taken this means she is still alive.”
I nodded, wiping away a tear which had escaped and taking a breath to compose myself. As Robin’s arm fell from its partial rest around me, I straightened my posture and opened my eyes to regard him. An image flashed across my thoughts, of Julian, and that notion which had brought me marching through Ophelia’s coven estate. I lacked the ability to voice my concern – even to repeat it within my thoughts – and as I steadied myself, I decided on the one portion of the story I could recount for the time being. “She is still alive, though, yes” I said, “I doubt they lead her away only to murder her.”
“You said she was taken.”
“Taken. After being seduced away from me.” As my gaze settled on Robin, I frowned. “My reaction to that might have angered Ophelia and upset the rest of the coven. When we rescue Monica, I doubt it will be a hospitable environment any longer.”
Robin raised an eyebrow. “What did you do, brother?”
“Not what I did. What they did. I only reacted, albeit violently.” Settling myself again, I remained pointed straight while Robin shifted to face me. A distant voice in the back of my head told me my thoughts had become scattershot; my delivery of them less-than-helpful. Nodding in response, I started over. “There have been spies in our midst, even from my earliest days at the coven,” I explained. “This is how Patrick and his ilk found us in Costa Rica. I had briefly wondered if we were being followed when the attack happened, but, as you know, too much happened too quickly for us to determine that. It turns out, we should not have been so careless.”
“Who were the spies?” he asked.
“A couple named Martin and Angela, who got close to us under the guise of befriending us. They took us out for a night on the town last week and distracted me while Monica lost control. Martin confessed it was all a plan to create the shift which took place in Monica.”
Robin nodded, listening intently as I relayed the tale of our night out to the opera. As I reached the portion of the story in which Monica began to act strange, he rose to pour us drinks. Handing me one, he remained on his feet, still quiet and attentive until I shook my head and paused to sip my drink. “I did not wake again fully until last night,” I said, “And by that point, it was too late. I was holding a knife, about to cut a human begging for his life. After allowing him to escape, I tried talking sense into Monica, but she fled. Not before saying something nonsensical first, though.”
“What did she say?” Robin asked, drinking from his glass as well.
I perked an eyebrow, speaking the quote through a strained voice. “Good night, love. I hear someone else calling me.”
The memory captured me for a moment, before the sound of Robin placing his glass down on the desk brought me back into reality. He slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers, his thumbs sticking out, and paced closer to the windows. Freeing one hand to displace an extra blanket – one I assumed he hung over the curtains – Robin studied the street below. “So, Martin and Angela awoke something primal within her,” he said after a moment’s pause, “But they must have also known the affect it would have, because they summoned reinforcements.”
“Considering she started to play with her magic again, they had to have known they opened Pandora’s box,” I said, nudging as close to a confession as I had yet. “Otherwise, the timing is oddly coincidental.”
“Yes, and as has been noted countless times in the past, there isn’t a such thing as coincidence as far as you’re concerned, Peter.” As he continued staring out the window, Robin sighed, remaining quiet and pensive for a few lingering moments. “What did you do to them?”
“Attacked them rather savagely. Though I cannot summon the wherewithal to feel remorse over that.” When Robin glanced at me, looking both confused and concerned, I took a deep breath and thought best how to ex
plain my actions. “I hurt Angela. Burned her and battered her. Martin, I delved into his thoughts and then, turned prodding into torture when I learned how long he had been spying for Sabrina.”
“I understand your anger, but did you feel that necessary?”
“Considering I had a friend who stumbled upon me after Monica ran off, yes I did.”
Robin lowered the blanket, turning to face me with his arms crossing over his chest. I swallowed down a lump forming in my throat, finally giving voice to that which I loathed admitting. “Julian Reichlin. He is a seer I had befriended while you were... well...” I winced over the words. “... Still dead. He had been sent in pursuit of Patrick and tracked us down instead.”
“He found you instead of Patrick?” Robin asked.
I nodded. As Robin and I regarded each other, I saw him struggle with the pieces of the puzzle and offered him no reprieve. His gaze strayed, but I knew the moment he had read between the lines by the way his eyes snapped back to engage mine. Slowly, Robin opened his mouth to say something. I did not know what and continued to deflect what few thoughts wafted in my direction. When he failed to offer whatever comment he had formed, I watched as his mouth shut and a simple nod formed his reaction.
“We need to locate her,” he said. “The sooner, the better.”
“I agree,” I said, “But how do you intend to accomplish what has eluded you for a month?”
“We have a new trick up our sleeves. I know your wife is your Achilles heel, and no doubt Patrick has counted on that from the start of all of this, but perhaps Katerina might be able to work with it.” He strode closer and as he sat across from me once more, Robin ensured my eyes met his before he continued. “That is the one good thing out of all of this. We might have lost your wife’s assistance, but my one brush with Patrick brought me back the young sorceress who had helped us in Ireland.”
I nodded, envisioning the blonde-haired teenager who had helped us locate Monica in the first place. While I lacked the ability either to be excited or relieved, the small spark of hope at least managed to bring my mind back to task. Impossible or not, there remained something to cling onto and deep down inside, I determined to take hold of that until I found the next thing to grasp. “Do you have her hidden somewhere?” I asked, taking another sip from my drink.
“A friend agreed to keep an eye on her, until I determined she was safe joining us here.” Robin raised an eyebrow. “Shall I summon her?”
“Yes, please do.”
Offering a half-smile, he nodded and rose to his feet. I watched as Robin strode away, retreating into the bathroom while pulling his phone out. When the door clicked shut, I released a breath I did not know I had been holding, glancing around at the walls surrounding me and reminding myself that this would be a process. At the end of it, though, I would have Monica back. I had to believe that much, or else risk falling apart.
As such, I decided to finish off my drink and unpack my things. Freeing a suit to hang in the closet beside Robin’s belongings, I shoved what remained, both in the form of weaponry and clothing, near the chair where I had draped my coat. Robin emerged from the bathroom sometime later, announcing that his friend had agreed to make the trip to Turin with Katerina in tow. “They took the opportunity to find a few additional items,” he explained. “She says she has what she needs for her spellwork.”
“Good,” I said, attempting a grin, while sensing the miserable failure on my lips. As Robin unbuttoned his suit jacket, I immersed myself within that relief which productivity brought with it while knowing it would be short-lived. “You should rest.”
“I should rest?” Robin scoffed. “I think we both should. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
“That I could sleep.”
“Put in a noble effort, brother. You look exhausted.”
Nodding, I decided against arguing any further with Robin. He removed his shoes and stood, set upon the task of disrobing in preparation for sleep. While I sensed the hour late – and even though I knew how little rest I had indulged over the past two days – I could not settle. Crawling beneath the covers, I remained as still as my anxiousness would allow, until I was certain that Robin had fallen asleep.
At that time, I sat upright, stepping out of bed and padding toward the chair where I had deposited my coat. Lifting it out of the way, I sat and stretched out my legs, shivering as another chill afflicted me. Different from the ones which had preceded the assassin’s arrival these days, it served to remind me that I had a target painted on me. My enemy could be anywhere and yet, was everywhere at the same time. They had managed to capture Monica, yes, but getting to me had been part of their goals.
And something told me they were not yet done breaking me.
I spent hours visually retracing my steps, ensuring nobody had followed me to Turin while noting that such menial things had yet to hinder Patrick in any form. He knew Robin had Katerina if my brother had managed to rescue her. In all of this, he was the piper playing the fife and I had no choice but to dance to the tune he intoned. The fires of anger rose within me again, quelled only by continued worry, and when I settled into bed, I only managed a few hours of uneasy rest. What little sleep I did get came in fits, interrupted when I relented to insomnia and slipped into the shower.
My movements roused Robin this time, who showered after me and emerged clothed in a fresh suit. “It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours after sunset for my friend to arrive,” he cautioned, and as I murmured in acknowledgment, I lowered myself into my chair, the agitation within me mounting again. The thought of taking a walk occurred to me, but I resolved myself to weather this storm. As Robin predicted, a knock sounded at the door an hour later, prompting our attention away toward the entryway.
“That should be them,” Robin said, lifting to a stand.
I waved him off when his gaze lingered on me, granting silent permission for him to direct his focus elsewhere. While the lack of distraction already had my nerves on edge, I worked on holding my composure, reminding myself I needed to find a way to stay focused throughout the remainder of this mess. Distantly, I heard the door open, and looked up in time to see the young, blonde-haired sorceress enter the room, standing as she walked inside. Coyly, she lifted a hand to wave. I nodded, otherwise lacking in words.
“Don’t wander too far,” Robin said from the door. “I’ll see you off later.” Whatever the other party said, his words were muffled, though the tenor suggested a younger associate. One of his many contacts, I reckoned. Shutting the door, Robin strode into the room, his gaze severe at first until he had the chance to relax. Looking first at me and engaging Katerina once I turned to pace closer to the window. “Were you able to rest during the trip?” he asked.
“No,” she said, her voice diminutive and her accent thicker than I remembered it being. “I tried, but there was too much excitement. Traveling makes me nervous. I brought my things, though. All of the spell books and materials you told me to get.”
“Did you have any difficulty finding everything?”
“Not really. We knew of a few places to look.”
“Excellent. We can get started again.” A pause preceded a shift, the volume of Robin’s voice turning louder as if I had not been listening to every word they had said. “Would you like to help, Peter?” he asked. “Katerina thinks there might be a few incantations she can attempt to locate your wife.”
Slowly, I shifted my gaze back to them, away from the idle places it had strayed. “I would not chance using my link to her,” I said, glancing from one to the other. “She’s done something to it, though I do not know what. The last time I tried summoning her, it caused me an awful headache.”
Katerina nodded, walking her things over to the desk and setting them there temporarily. “I can try a few things first that don’t require you to help,” she said. “Did you bring anything of hers with you?”
“No, I did not.” My thumb touched my wedding band, as if some entity other than Fly
nn had taken control of my actions. Whether the action had been subconscious or not, I glanced down at the simple, golden band and frowned while considering it, feeling something carve even further at the hole in my heart. My stomach sank and as I shut my eyes, I worked the piece of jewelry loose from my finger. “Here,” I said, once I had it freed. My gaze barely managed to settle on Katerina long enough for me to hand it to her. “Considering this belongs to us.”
She nodded and opened her hands to accept it. I saw Robin step closer to us in my periphery, but kept my focus centered on Katerina, watching the way she clasped hold of it and feeling stomach only sink further when the teenaged girl regarded me with sympathetic eyes. “I’ll take good care of it. I promise.”
“Return it to me in one piece.” When my voice cracked again, the compulsion to slink away made a compelling case for itself, regardless of how near Robin came to my personal space and how much compassion both he and the sorceress had to offer me. I tried to look at Robin and failed. When I finally could not cope with the limelight, I excused myself and pushed past them both. Walking toward the door, I swung it open and after it clicked shut behind me, I tried to take a deep breath to center myself again.
I needed to do something – anything – to carry me through the rest of the night.
Without exchanging glances with any of the other hotel occupants who happened to be about, I marched toward the elevator. Pressing a button, I stood beside a shorter, dark-haired man who had been waiting and only then, realized the down arrow had already been pressed. He and I exchanged no words and despite having the sense that I had garnered his attention, I strode away from him once the doors had parted, letting us out on the bottom floor. It took only a minute for me to traverse the main floor of the hotel and emerge outside the revolving glass door.
The walk to a quieter, less traveled road behind the establishment took even less time than that.
I could not determine what I wanted to do first. Cry, perhaps, and the tears rose despite my desire to hold them back, my hand resting on the side of the building while I leaned my weight into it. Several other impulses shot through me as well. The vampire within me wanted to rip someone’s heart out. The seer wanted to tear something apart with his mind. As I allowed the grief to flow out of my soul, the most exquisite emotional agony I had ever experienced poured forth. It wrung me out, taking every tear I could shed and giving no quarter. After an indeterminate amount of time had passed, I sank into a seated position on the concrete.