by R. E. Carr
Dr. Dexter Carmichael gave the world’s largest shit-eating grin as he turned to address the camera. “Greetings, my loyal believers. It is with great honor and satisfaction that I have been granted exclusive first access to Arthur Matsuoka, the first vampire to make his existence public. A vampire, I may add, who has graciously used his time and influence to repudiate the multitude of false charges levied against my person by a rogue element, who also happens to be related to my ex-wife—”
“You have got to be shitting me,” Gail muttered as Dr. Carmichael began pontificating, equal parts smarminess and self-satisfaction. Meanwhile, Arthur sat back in his seat, smiling rather mischievously to himself as he tapped his fingers together and made a very good show of listening. The first few minutes covered the mundane—who Arthur was, how he wanted to help people—and most importantly, why Arthur showed up on camera when others didn’t. They even did a little back-and-forth showing how Claude-shots worked and played with the filters as well as gave a PSA on how to identify your friendly neighborhood bloodsucker.
“Now, I know why you felt the need to come forward because I feel like I know you, Arthur,” Dr. Carmichael said, dripping with camera-worthy earnestness. “But for those out there who don’t know you, I think they all really want to know one thing. The public wants to know—why? And more to the point, why now? Why break the centuries of silence that your kind has cultivated?”
“That is an excellent question, Dexter,” Arthur replied, still using his American accent. He flashed a genuine look to the cameras and gave a deep, heartfelt sigh. “It’s easy sometimes to make grand claims about the good of the many or about how we felt like we had to help our fellow man, but in the end, it’s about a tipping point—that proverbial straw that breaks the camel’s back. I could cite many reasons, but in the end, they all boil down to just one reason, to one life too many, taken because of our need to hide. No—not a need, it is a fear . . . of discovery, a fear of change that drove vampirekind into the shadows. I know it might seem odd to you all—humans are raised to believe that vampires are monsters—but believe me when I say that we are far more afraid of all of you than you are of us.”
Gail felt her insides quiver as she watched Arthur pull a photo out of his pocket. He turned it to the camera. “I’m sure by now you’ve all heard of the young woman pulled out of the Charles River a few weeks ago.” Arthur caught his breath as well, his lip quivering. He looked away quickly and wiped his eyes. “Her name was Georgia Sutherland; and yes, she was killed by a vampire.” He took a moment to compose himself. “She was killed by a vampire who turned against his own kind and released the berserker virus in Nashville. You also know him personally, Dexter, as the vampire who ruined your life. His name is Steven James DeMarco; and he officially took one life too many. If the only way to stop him is to tell the truth, then that is exactly what I am going to do. This moment is for her because she was the one thing in this world that really mattered to me . . . and now . . . and now she’s gone. I’m sorry . . . Dex. I . . . I . . . need a moment.”
Nicolette looked around confused at the gobsmacked audience. “Is it just me, or did Ren just declare war on Steve?”
39
“Might I remind you, Little Bit, that we declared war? This is not our brightest idea,” Kyle said as he sat with Paige in an unassuming hatchback. They stared at the edge of a roadblock, with all the flashing lights and scary-looking people in masks checking with the few people who wanted to travel into the besieged city. Paige cracked her neck and let her gaze drift over to the “Nashville City Limits” sign by a tree.
“Come on, Kyle, when have we ever had bright ideas to begin with?” Paige asked with a lopsided smile. One of the patrolling guardsmen flashed his flashlight twice. “That’s our signal.”
Kyle took her hand. Her smile tightened a little. She leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “If you’re gonna start the overprotective BS, it’s a one-way ticket back to the old awkward, Red.”
He rolled his eyes and let her go. Both sniffed the air cautiously then made their way to the front of the vehicle. Both werewolves’ cheeks were still slightly sunken, and Kyle rubbed the red fuzz on top of his head nervously as Paige adjusted her jacket with the right sleeve still pinned to the shoulder. They moved slowly towards the sign while the patrol conveniently looked the other way.
“Paige—” Kyle said nervously as the wind changed.
“She said talk, so we talk. We’re not animals, remember?”
“Now that is debatable,” a snide voice said from the shadows. A lone, diminutive figure leaned against the city limits signpost while a larger shadow loomed by the tree. Paige gave Kyle a one-armed squeeze and motioned him to stay back while she approached her opponent.
“Nice to see you again, sheriff. It’s been, what—a week? Somehow feels so much shorter,” Paige said with a snarl.
“Nice to see you too, Paige. Do we have a set amount of banter we need to go through, or can we just get down to business?” the sheriff asked. The shadows pulled away from her, revealing her usual old Livia disguise, complete with purple tracksuit and silver spectacles.
“I’m already bored.”
“Where is the baby?”
“Safe.”
“Is that all I’m going to get from you?” the sheriff asked, letting out a deep sigh.
“Yup.”
The two tiny women stared at each other for a good long time. Finally, the sheriff broke the silence. “Listen, you must have seen the news by now—”
Paige motioned to the barricade and the soldiers. “Really? Haven’t noticed anything.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Paige. Leave it to the professionals. Now, listen to me. My brother has gone quite mad, but it is not too late to stop him.”
“Then stop him,” Paige said, raising a brow.
The sheriff took a deep breath. “This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?” Paige simply smiled.
“This is going to be one hell of a long night, isn’t it?” Gail asked as they waited in the back of the tiny church in Boston’s Chinatown. She looked nervously up at the cross. Edwin followed her gaze, then gave her an awkward, halfhearted attempt at a hug.
“I know it can’t hurt us,” he muttered.
“But yeah, it’s weird,” Gail finished for him. “Although—not half as weird as waiting for a nun and a drag queen to bring you news if you can sneak into a hotel to meet a wizard.”
Edwin flashed her a sudden grin. “Trust me—hang out with my mom long enough and nothing will seem weird, Gail,” he reassured her. A few minutes later, Nicolette and Sister Kim waved from the doorway. The drag queen made a beeline for Edwin and Gail.
“Sorry we took so long, but it is a madhouse out there. Then there was a couple that needed counseling, and I’m not going to punch my ticket to hell by telling a nun that she can’t help someone. Silver lining—the couple arguing over communication included one cop, so at least I managed to get a few details about where the barricades are. Everything is around the Matsuoka Headquarters and the building with DeMarco, Lambley, and Young LLC. If you can get around them, people haven’t noticed the hidden old hotel yet. Who knows what’s going to happen if Ren does any more press conferences? Oh—and for ultimate waterworks, someone has started a memorial wall for Georgia outside the Matsuoka building. There are all these flowers and teddy bears and my mascara can’t take it!”
“Gail, you make a run for the hotel. It’s dark, and maybe the selfie craze will be a little easier to deal with.”
“And you guys?” she asked.
“I am going to bed. Goodnight, vampires!” Sister Kim said cheerfully. Both Gail and Edwin glared at Nicolette.
“You two try lying to a nun!” she protested. “Gordo will be here following Twitter and shit, while we go for gold. Come on, you two.”
Soon Gail found herself back on the streets of Boston. The crowds had swollen with more people with signs, including quite a few with the hashtag
#ONETOOMANY. “There is a hashtag already?” Gail asked. She made a point to stay in the shadow of Nicolette while Edwin stayed a few feet away, watching the cameras, and scouting the best paths. They had almost made it all the way around the throng when the cry of “Oh my god, vampire!” finally sounded.
Edwin gave Gail a tiny salute, then popped his collar, and finally turned and gave a fangy smile to the adoring ladies. With his floppy chestnut hair, bright amber eyes, and tragically brooding stare, the female contingent instantly forgot the rest of the universe existed, while Nicolette let out a raucous laugh and showed a bit of leg just to confuse everyone else. Gail bolted past the final blockade as even the cops seemed transfixed by Edwin’s smolder. She heard one cop whisper, “Does he sparkle?” behind her as she made it to the shadows.
“Thanks for taking one for the team, Edwin,” Gail murmured to herself. “Now I owe you and Beulah a drink.”
True to Nicolette’s description, the street leading towards Boston harbor was eerily quiet. A faded awning read “The Intercontinental”, while the street light flickered on the corner. A cop did walk the sidewalk, but Gail’s miasma seemed to hold as she made her way slowly towards the side entrance. She balked as she saw a keypad and card reader waiting for her. “Of course, it’s not like they are just going to open the door and welcome me in.”
A moment later, the door buzzed. Gail raised a brow as it swung open to reveal a dashing man with salt-and-pepper hair and deeply tanned skin for a creature with fangs. “Welcome, Gail! I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time.” He held up a phone and gave a hearty laugh. “Mina already texted.”
“Oh, of course,” Gail replied, confused.
“What do you think we are, savages? No one is being held prisoner, you know. In case you haven’t been clued in, I’m Michael Ambrose this generation, but everyone seems to know me by that other name. Call me Merlin.”
“What is so amusing?” the sheriff asked as Paige continued to chuckle and shuffle along the grass at the city’s edge. Paige shook her head at the clearly frustrated bloodsucker.
“How desperate are you, sheriff, that you are asking me for help? Did you vomit a little and choke it down? Because I can smell the loathing coming off you right now. You want us to take a stand against Arthur, and I’m guessing that after all is said and done, we can go vanish on some reservation in the frozen north, am I right?”
The sheriff bared her fangs. “You have to know as well as I do that the humans will turn on your kind just as much as they will on mine—”
“I’ll take my chances,” Paige growled.
The sheriff balled her hands into fists and almost took a step forwards, but one glare from Paige kept her in place. “There are only two possible outcomes . . . and you know it, girl. Either the humans will do what they do best and succumb to fear and hate. At that point, we will all be hunted or locked in labs—poked and prodded until kingdom come. The other alternative is that my brother digs in like the tick that he is and wins over the herds of sheep. Guess what . . . no good shepherd tolerates wolves around his flock. We must strike, while we can still countermand him. Humans are weak and fickle. They have forgotten before and they will forget us again. Those that broke our sacred law must be brought to justice!”
“No,” Paige replied flatly.
“Excuse me?”
“Was I somehow unclear?” Paige asked slowly. “No, I am not helping you.”
“You must,” the sheriff said, her voice lowering a little. “If you won’t stand with me against Arthur, and he wins, I will help him hunt you down. You are trapped in a pathetic city. I can get your fingerprints, your records—even your damned, diseased DNA in every law enforcement agency in this colonial wasteland, and there will be nowhere for you to run. I will make certain that you are locked up in a cage for the rest of your miserable life.”
Paige smiled. “No, you won’t.”
“How can you . . .? How dare you?”
“You really want to know? Because I’m the mother to your goddamn grandchild. Because I know that no matter what happens, your son loves me. Your other son is my flesh and blood too—and you aren’t going to spend the rest of eternity getting crap from them because for all your bluster, you need them, and you care what they think. It’s the same reason that I didn’t kill you a week ago when we both know I could have—but that’s where it ends, are we clear?”
The sheriff turned slightly red as for once she struggled for words. Her claws popped from under her nails, while Paige remained doggedly calm. Finally, the sheriff took a deep breath and gave Paige a pleading look. “If you care so much about Lorcan then why won’t you help me rescue him from Arthur?” she asked.
“Well, there are two reasons.”
“Enlighten me.”
“First off, Lorcan and I don’t save each other. We save ourselves,” Paige snarled. She glared at both Kyle and Mr. Sugar as they each advanced a little. The sheriff motioned everyone back as well. “But most importantly . . . you keep worrying about Lorcan being trapped with Arthur. Perhaps you should worry more about Arthur being trapped with Lorcan. Last I heard, their first meeting didn’t go too well for the once and future king. So, have a little faith.”
“You expect me to take all of this information on faith, child?” Merlin asked as he led Gail to the kitchen area of the Intercontinental. Gail rolled her eyes and pulled out her pile of notes.
“No, I expect you to look at the research that was compiled by Pendragon scholars and hidden away in your own archives, actually.” Gail stiffened slightly as Merlin pulled a bottle of blood and a bottle of gin out of the fridge.
“There are very few decent academics left in my family. I doubt its method is sound.” Merlin scanned a few pages in between fixing himself a drink. “Hmm, it’s mostly anecdotal, but I’ll indulge you and have my assistants give it a read when they have time. You know, you look parched, little one. Aperitif?”
Gail gulped timidly. Merlin smiled ever so sweetly and dropped some ice into two glasses with a satisfying clink. “Something the matter? Have you heard something that troubles you, child? Something about one of my so-called spells, perhaps?”
“Maybe I just don’t trust it when a strange man pours me a drink anymore,” she offered with a smile. Merlin laughed.
“I’m not a stranger. I’m family.” He waited for Gail to gulp again. “You will find there is little you have to share that I do not already know. I have seen these reports on the effects of miasma in the past, but there is simply not enough evidence—”
“Not enough evidence? There is five hundred years of—”
“Of anecdotal and biased research by a vampire who is a self-proclaimed humanist. He also once married his dog, so consider the source. But I do understand your natural curiosity about exactly how miasma works. Curiosity is a wonderful quality to have, and if you wish to start down the path to true understanding of what you are and how your abilities function, then I will happily mentor you, child.”
“Just like that?” Gail asked, raising a brow.
“Mina tells me everything. She’s always been daddy’s little girl, and I have always kept her secrets, child—even the more . . . uncomfortable ones. She sent you here so that I could take you in, and so that I could assess everything that you’ve found thus far; but believe me, you only have half-truths and piss-poor science.”
“Then show me better!” Gail demanded. Merlin poured blood over ice then topped it liberally with fancy looking gin. He slid one glass across the table.
“I made a promise a long time ago that I would be perfectly honest with anyone of my blood with whom I shared a drink, so long as they showed me the same courtesy. What say you, Gail Harker? Are you ready for some answers, or was Mina wrong about you?”
She grabbed the glass and looked Merlin right in the eye. “What did you want to chat about first?”
“Are you here to kill me?”
Gail nearly choked on her first sip. She looked at him
with wide eyes. “What kind of question is that? No!”
“I find it best to get it out of the way first thing,” he said pleasantly. He clinked his glass against hers and took a drink as well. “I am glad that you don’t want to kill me. It would put a damper on our relationship.”
“Why do you have this ritual? Why wouldn’t you just tell the truth?” Suspicion crept into Gail’s voice as she sniffed her drink.
“I usually tell the truth, child. Lies require far more effort than I’m willing to expend after walking the world for this long. I have found, however, that the masses tend to assume that the truly brilliant are lying because they simply don’t have the mental aptitude to understand all that we say. I enjoy discussing my work with those who are curious and not complete idiots, so why not have a game of it? The question is, can you figure out the trick?”
“Miasma mixed with vampires’ natural tendency to be obsessive and follow our laws?”
Merlin clapped his hands with delight. “There is a proclivity to overcomplicate things, but the truly bright know that the simplest answer is almost always the correct one. Walk with me, we’ll drink and explore.”
“Did you know that Arthur was going to go on national TV and expose us to the world?”
“Know? Not explicitly, no—but it was inevitable, really. Arthur wanted so desperately to bring us all into the light the last time he was alive, so it was only a matter of time and motivation before he would do the same now.”
“But what about the second law?”
“Oh, well that one is pretty much in the toilet now, isn’t it?” Merlin gave a little “hee-hee” as he gave Gail the fifty-cent tour of the lobby. “Laws must evolve and change over time, no? Even for creatures such as we, there is always room for growth. I choose to see this as an opportunity, either that, or it will be yet another passing fad. It’s still too early to see which way the winds will blow.”