by R. E. Carr
Gail could only stand there, gobsmacked, as Steve tore at his hair and paced around the apartment. Tears welled in his eyes as he finally looked at her. “I can’t do this. I can’t handle this.” His hands shook uncontrollably. “I’m not the guy you want with power like this.”
“Damn it, Steve, pull yourself together! You were a goddamn soldier, weren’t you? Start acting like it.”
Steve froze, then began shaking his head rapidly. Gail finally walked over and grabbed his trembling shoulders. She blew the hair out of his eyes and stared up at him. “Come on, Steve, you were a hero once. You fucking punched Nazis, right? Right?”
He smiled weakly. “Technically, the only Nazi I ever punched was my dad, and I was plastered . . . but I did help people shoot a few.”
“I am pretty sure that still counts. Come on, Steve. Stop being so hard on yourself. It’s just going to take a while for you to get . . . control of things.”
Steve dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor, the empty bottle clattering against the vinyl tiles. Gail knelt next to him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his chest. The vampire within whooshed desperately, sounding more like a washing machine than the usual ocean waves.
“I didn’t just get his face, Gail,” Steve confessed. “I had his dreams . . . his feelings, and all he seemed to think about was Georgia. I can’t stop thinking about her, Gail, and it’s tearing me apart inside.”
“You have . . . his feelings?” Gail asked softly.
“Sometimes, when I drink a person’s blood, I can feel what they feel. I used to think all vampires were that way, you know? I’m starting to think that I might have been weird.”
“Feelings are just hormones . . . chemicals. Maybe it isn’t so weird.”
“So, do you . . . you know, feel things when you drink from someone?”
“Well . . . not humans, no,” Gail said, looking up at him. She wiped a few of the tears off his cheek. “Sorry.”
“He loved her so much, and I made him . . . I made him forget, and though I tell myself every morning when I go to sleep that I did it to protect her, deep down I know I did it . . . so I’d finally have a chance.” He motioned to his chest. “Come on! What chance did I ever have against a guy that looks like this? Hell, it’s all my fault that she met him. Everything is my damn fault!”
“Steve, you can’t blame yourself for everything,” Gail said softly. Steve broke down into a gushing mess the moment the words left her lips. She held onto him desperately until her collar was wet, and his sobs had been reduced to dry heaves. He looked up and, for a moment, his green eyes darkened to his normal brown.
“But it is my fault,” he croaked. “You don’t understand. I didn’t warn her. I should have warned her, but it seemed so impossible that the . . . that the little girl . . . Oh god, they told me she died!”
“You’re not making any sense. I don’t understand. Make me understand.”
She helped Steve over to a comfier spot leaning against the lower cabinets. She even fished out a fresh beer, so he could fortify himself slightly. Once he had drained another bottle, he sniffed back his snot and tears and let out a deep breath.
“It was right when I started working with the sheriff. Pops had ratted my ability out, and the sheriff said she’d help me learn how to control it. When she figured out that was pointless, she taught me how to clean up messes for her. Sis and I were on a whirlwind tasting tour of the American South, and we had brought Gingersnaps—sorry, Mr. Lambley—with us because he wanted to see some Dali museum in Florida, I think. It was all so innocent . . . well, innocent by vampire standards, but everything went to hell in Atlanta. I don’t know exactly what happened, but monsters ripped out Minerva’s eyes and nearly killed her. Geoffrey went mad, I mean like stark raving mad, and said he was going to track down the brutes. I called the sheriff, but he never waited for me. A few hours later, I found him clawing open his own skin, raving about werewolves. Back then . . . it seemed so ridiculous.”
“Werewolves?” Gail asked with a little gulp. Steve nodded.
“It seems so obvious now, but I never wanted to believe it. Lorcan and the sheriff showed up to clean the mess. The dad was ripped apart in the parlor, and the mom . . . she was drowned in the bathtub, so much blood in the water that it had gone red. Geoffrey had gone mad in his rage and killed them. He killed them all, but the worst . . . the worst was the little girl. That’s what broke him.” Steve flopped his head against the cabinet door. “They told me she died.”
“Who died?”
“I should have known. I should have warned her—”
“Who?” Steve started shaking again. Gail took his hand. “Who, Steve?” she asked in a more gentle tone.
“Right before . . . before Georgia . . . b-before she . . .” He looked away. “Georgia touched the side of my face and said she saw me standing in sunshine in a park. She smiled at me the same way that little girl did. I didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it, but now I know the truth.”
“Steve, what are you talking about?”
“Geoffrey had ripped this family apart, but he hadn’t quite killed this tiny little girl. She was in the bathroom, holding her mother’s hand. I don’t think she could cry anymore, she had bled out so much. The sheriff told me to take care of the witness, to wipe her memory at the very least, if I didn’t want to kill her. The poor kid had just watched her family die, so I wanted her to have one nice dream before she met her end. I told her she didn’t have to be afraid of monsters ever again. How was I supposed to know that she’d live? She never had the good sense to be afraid of us.”
“Oh my god. You mean—?”
“Lorcan took her away when she was just about gone. He told me she died. I always thought I did one good thing, but it just came back to haunt me. I’m the reason . . . it’s my f-fault. She was never afraid because of me, and I never warned her that her precious Mr. Lambley was a killer and almost her killer to boot. Lorcan knew. He knew I was there, and he must have known it was Georgia, but he never told me. He never told me, damn it!”
“Steve, you couldn’t have predicted everything. You couldn’t—”
“I didn’t ever think to warn her, damn it! I just thought that he had changed, and if Minerva is telling the truth . . . oh god . . .” He devolved into blubbering again. Gail awkwardly patted his back. “Georgia was the only one who could stop me, and now she’s dead. I can’t handle this, Gail. I’m only going to make things worse. . . Damn it! Why do I have to look like this?”
Gail waited for the next round to pass. She double-checked that his gloves were still on before she started to speak. “You look like this because I’m pretty sure you have an uncontrollable need to make yourself miserable, Steve,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. “But right now, we have a shapeshifting, invisible vampire out there and could really use your help stopping her before she does something truly awful . . . something else truly awful. I mean, what do you think Georgia would want you to do?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “That was a cheap shot. I approve.” He started pulling the plastic off his arms and marveled at the freshly healed skin, complete with tattoos. Both he and Gail raided the closet of her presumably doomed former coworker and ended up looking like the front page of the Hot Topic catalog as they emerged from the bedroom.
“Seriously, does everything this guy own have chains attached?” Steve asked as he jingled with every step. Gail just pushed up the sleeves on her black waffle-weave top and cracked her knuckles. They sized each other up. Steve sighed, “We look like cheesy Hollywood rejects, don’t we?”
Gail whipped around the baseball bat she had found by the bed. “At least we don’t sparkle.”
“You know I can’t just walk back into a den of pissed off werewolves. I kinda made that Bernard guy shoot himself with a tranq gun, after I kissed the big guy and Kyle’s ex. However, if you want me to go turn myself in to mommy dearest so you can escape with Pip, I’m all
for it. I just have no idea where she is.”
“Well, if you were a rather arrogant vampire with a wicked sense of humor and a father who kept referring to himself as Zeus to mere mortals, where would you set up your evil lair?” Gail asked, giving Steve a knowing look.
“Oh, I’ve got an idea,” he said as he headed for the door. “Shall we?”
“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this, A rún,” Paige heard softly as she opened her eyes. Embers flickered in a nearby hearth and fur brushed against her cheek. She looked over to see her Lorcan, the one with raven hair and a long, decidedly English face. He pushed the curls out of her eyes and smiled sadly.
“Where have you been?” she asked. She looked down and saw she still had a pregnant belly under the pelts. She let out an “ugh” as she flopped her head back again. Lorcan laughed. She growled.
“I’ve always been with you, Paige. I’ve just been a little preoccupied with all of this,” he said, waving to her stomach. “Our little one would kill you, if he didn’t have something tastier to devour instead.”
She reached out to him. “You?” He nodded. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’m just helpless—”
“Oh, come now, when have you ever been helpless?” he asked, kissing her on the forehead. “I know you want me to save you, but I have every confidence that you can save yourself.” He rested his hand on her belly. “After all, we’re counting on you.”
Paige opened her eyes again, this time to glaring lights and the pungent aromas of antiseptic and body fluids. She stared at the padded restraints on her wrists and the IV in her arm. She quickly closed her eyes and slowed her breath again as she heard footsteps draw close.
Dr. Antonova muttered something in Russian, followed by a reassuring, “Very good. Da.” Once Paige heard the footsteps move away again, she dared open one eye.
A clang echoed across the room. She turned slightly to see what looked like a cage being assembled over a hospital bed. “Oh, did that wake you up, volchitsa? Bad workmen!”
Dr. Antonova stepped into view and peered at her with concern. She wiped a bit of dried spittle off the corner of Paige’s mouth and brushed the hair out of Paige’s eyes. The Russian doctor nodded and smiled. “Yes, yes, little lamb, that is for you. We can’t have you wolfing out and ripping your poor little baby to pieces, can we? We will put you in soon enough, and then everyone will be safe and sound. Now, why don’t you have little medicine and get rest, and I’ll tell those mean workmen to knock it off. That is good, yes?”
Paige groaned noncommittally and focused her attention on exactly which cabinet Dr. Antonova pulled the bottle of sedative out of. She then eyed the black protrusion on the ceiling with a little red light on it—clearly a camera.
“Now, now, be good. In few days, we will have nice new home for you. Don’t fight us, volchitsa. It will be so much easier if you don’t fight.”
Paige groaned again and slowly let her eyelids shut. The moment she heard the footsteps move away, Paige gritted her teeth and popped her right thumb out of its socket.
“Do you really think we can fight your mom?” Gail asked nervously as she finally pulled into an empty spot in a municipal lot near Centennial Park. Steve just gave her one of his trademark puppy-eyed looks, but the effect was far more smoldering with his now-green eyes and angular features.
“Define fight. I’m really hoping for more of a walk in, order a bunch of people to drop to their knees, and grab Pip with a minimum of effort or fuss. It’s really more my style.”
“You were a soldier, right?”
“Yeah, and if there is one thing being in a world war will teach you, it’s that fighting is stupid.” He raised a brow. “You’re still hooked on that story Georgia told you, aren’t you? Trust me, that was my lifetime of heroism in a few days’ time. You’re not nervous, are you?”
It was Gail’s turn to give him a look. He smiled and mussed her hair. “Just remember, your parents are badasses—a werewolf-killing boxer and kung fu Barbie.”
She raised a brow. Steve just shrugged. “You’re the real Jaeger, Gail, so these guys have every reason to be afraid of you. Remember what my fake mom and sister always said—”
“You mean my mom,” Gail interjected as she popped open her door.
“Yeah, that’s still weird. I really would rather not, um . . . anyway, every Jaeger is a hunter—”
“Every Jaeger is a killer,” Gail finished as she pushed up her sleeves and grabbed her bat. Their heroic march towards the Parthenon ended rather quickly as they realized that the main building was thoroughly locked and fenced in after sunset. “You know, this somehow fits with the story of my life,” Gail muttered as she saw everything closed. She and Steve exchanged a sly look as they noticed a security guard making the rounds.
“See, this is how you do it,” Steve said, pulling off a glove. He only had to talk to the guard for a moment before he pointed to a little side entrance of the attached museum.
“Enjoy your date night,” the stranger said with a wink. “I was young once, too.”
“The irony is, he’s got to be at least forty years younger than me,” Steve murmured, smiling. “Come on, if we’re lucky it will be this easy all night.”
14
“You were saying?” Gail asked as she stared at a row of rather perturbed looking gentlemen, all leveling firearms at the embarrassed pair of vampires. The pale face of Pallas Athena stared witheringly down at them as well, further adding to the shame of it all. “When will you learn, Steve?”
Steve smiled sheepishly as he raised his hands over his head. “I said easy, I never said successful, Darling. It’s pretty easy to understand what we need to do right now.”
“Darling?” Gail asked, raising a brow. The goon squad exchanged looks as they took in a slip of a girl with a baseball bat and what looked like the vampire king in a Sisters of Mercy T-shirt.
“Everyone gets a nickname eventually,” Steve said. “Deal with it, or you get Pumpkin instead.”
“Pumpkin?” Gail asked hotly. Meanwhile, the guys with guns exchanged confused looks. One of them, a rather large older man in a windbreaker and an ear piece, took a tentative step forwards and asked Steve one simple question.
“Excuse me but are you . . .?” he started.
“Of course,” Steve said without skipping a beat. The guards exchanged more curious looks. One reached for his radio, and Steve waved a finger. “You really don’t want to call this in, do you? Come on, we just wanted—”
The guard wavered. Steve smiled. “We’re totally supposed to be here, right?”
“Were they on the guest list?” another guard muttered.
“Why does a secret lair have a guest list, Steve?” Gail hissed. He shrugged. Finally, the guards lowered their weapons, and the guy with the radio cocked his head.
“I thought you were English or something,” he asked.
“Caw blimey, Mary Poppins!” Steve said cheerfully, possibly in the worst impression of Dick Van Dyke ever. He gave Gail a little wink, then suddenly swung his fist around and decked the guy. Gail lunged with her bat and bowled the other guards over. Steve raised a brow as she sent the grown men flying.
“It’s cor blimey, you idiot!”
“What are you, the movie quote police, Pumpkin?” Steve asked as he stood triumphantly over the guards she knocked out. Their victory was rather short lived, however, as a door opened, and a trio of perturbed-looking vampires stepped into the striking ambience of four groaning guards flailing in the shadow of an Olympian goddess.
The center vampire, a tiny albino with haunted pink eyes and hollow cheeks, gritted her fangs as she saw Steve and Gail standing amid the chaos. Gail gasped as she saw Mina Harker flanking the stranger to her left, and Jonathan in a suit to the stranger’s right. The albino raised her brow, and her eyes flashed green. “Oh, are we doing Asian now, boy? I would have changed into someone more comfortable.”
Gail laughed nervously. “I feel lik
e we are missing something here, but I have a pretty good idea that she’s—”
“I decided to make my eldest feel at home for a change, Steve. Other than your preternatural ability to get into trouble, why are you here tonight?”
“And why are you here, Gail?” Mina asked.
“Why are you guys here?” Gail countered. She looked over to the strangely dressed Jonathan. “Aren’t you a little upset? She kidnapped Paige!”
“Mother, is this true?” His cold British accent revealed that Lorcan was still in control of Jonathan’s body. This pallid version of the sheriff smiled blandly.
“Of course, it’s true,” she said flatly. Lorcan’s lips peeled back, but before he could so much as growl in protest, the sheriff raised a finger to silence him. “It’s not like she would come willingly, and I swear that everything I did was to ensure her and my grandchild’s safety. Now, you wouldn’t accuse me of breaking an oath, would you?”
“Of course, we wouldn’t,” Mina interjected. “And all of us remember why we are here in the first place.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, but we didn’t get that memo,” Steve said snidely.
“You would probably get more memos, if you didn’t run away like a spoiled brat every time things don’t go your way,” the sheriff retorted. “Also, if you didn’t run away, you probably wouldn’t be stuck looking like that. Dear lord, is that guyliner? I have never wished more in my life for vampires to have reflections so that I could capture this just to taunt my brother.”
“No, I am not wearing guyliner,” Steve protested with a pout. Everyone took a moment to peer at Steve’s frightfully smoky eyes. Gail finally stepped into the middle of the madness.
“Have we all gone mental?” she asked. “Why are you three being all buddy-buddy? What are you doing, and what the hell happened to Paige? Also, can any of you fix Steve before he goes insane from whatever you dosed him with? Seriously, scary albino lady, you look like a reject from some B-grade horror movie looking like that . . . no offence, sheriff.”