by Alana Melos
“Alright,” he said, his voice thick and growly. “If you have something personal of his, it will go faster.”
“I do,” she said and reached into her pocket. She brought out a medal which I didn’t recognize. Alistair’s face tightened at the sight of it and his mouth twisted into a thin line, but he held out his hand. When it passed between them, I caught a glimpse of something silvery on a red and white ribbon, but that was it. She stood up and moved back to her seat then, looking to the mage and chewing her lip.
“I’m going to adjourn to the study,” he said. “Stay here, stay warm, and I will be back shortly.”
I nodded at him as he rose and left us, then looked to the fire, my broody thoughts coming back to me unbidden.
“I knew he would help,” Rebekah said, the tone of her voice only slightly gloating. “He has a good heart.”
I raised a brow at that. “I wouldn’t know,” I said, the gloom I felt infecting my voice to make me sound dour. “He hasn’t asked for a price yet, keep that in mind. And because it’s Ger, he’ll probably charge double.”
“I have money,” she said. “Some money. Just not with me. It can’t be that expensive?”
“Usually a couple grand,” I said, yawning. Being next to the fire helped to dispel some of my bad mood, and the warmth soaked into me. “Depends on how hard it is, I think? I’m not a mage. I don’t know how it works.”
“That’s not so much,” she replied, rubbing her chin with her index finger. “I think I have that. I’m still learning, and building a reputation, like you said to do.”
“Again, it’s Ger, so it’ll be more than that, likely, and if he’s hidden…” I shrugged, and made a setting aside gesture with my hand. “It’s neither here nor there. I’ll get it paid one way or another.”
“No, he’s my father, I will take care of the debt,” Rebekah replied, glancing to me.
“I dragged you here, and dragged you out… I’ll take care of it,” I said, waving her away. “Just don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said. I heard the frown in her voice and turned towards her. “You don’t have to do things for me, and treat me like I’m a child.”
“You’re new, we’re showing you the ropes,” I replied, frowning myself.
“I’m not a child,” she continued on, as if she didn’t hear me. “I’m an adult, and I’m an adult who’s killed more people than you.”
“I didn’t say you were a child,” I sneered, latching onto my welling anger. Better to be angry than to be introspective. “I said we were showing you the ropes.”
“And I appreciate it, but you can let me pay off my own debt,” she huffed.
“Sure,” I agreed. “That’s fine. Whatever. I don’t care. But lose the fucking attitude.”
“I don’t have an attitude!”
I rolled my eyes. “Right now you do, and I think you should cut it out before I make you.”
“You couldn’t,” she started to say, but then Alistair walked back into the room, looking between the two of us with raised brows.
He held up a piece of paper, “I found the address where he’s at. There was… is… some sort of shielding over it, but it wasn’t strong enough to hold me out.”
Before Rebekah could move, I stood up and strode over to him, snatching the paper out of his hand. “Thank you,” I said coolly, then shot a triumphant smirk to Rebekah.
She had bounded to her feet right after I had, and now she came over. “Give that to me,” she said as she reached for the address.
“No,” I replied, taking a step back. As she reached, I held it up since I was taller than she. When Alistair chuckled, I gave him a nasty look, and she jumped up and grabbed it out of my hand while I was distracted.
I reached for it, and she shoved her free hand out to push me away. Scoffing, I grabbed for her hair intending on jerking her down and making her kneel, but she ducked my grab. I ended up with a handful of her jacket, which I twisted as I stepped inside her reach.
“Stop it!” she said, slapping at my hand. “It’s mine! I’m going to pay for it!”
“It was my idea, and you’re in no shape to rescue him!” I shot back as I pulled at her jacket. I think I had remarked before about fighting… and when it was between two masters how it was a dance, beautiful and deadly. This wasn’t, but we weren’t trying to hurt each other. Our moves, such as they were, made us look awkward and clumsy, as if we didn’t know how to fight at all. The mage behind us kept chuckling as Rebekah stepped on the inside of my foot, making me hiss through my teeth as I wrested her jacket around, almost pulling it off of her as I tried to get to the paper she kept just out of reach.
“I’ll do it anyway!” she cried. “I don’t need powers to fight!” Her slapping having no effect on my iron grip, she moved to slap me in the face. The strange angle I held her in now made her blows ineffectual, almost like she was a kitten batting at a piece of string. “Let go! Let go of me!”
“Give… me… that… paper…!” I exclaimed as I used my free hand to grab onto her hair finally. My anger stoked hot and red, pulsing in my mind. As childish as it was, this was so much better than the moodiness before. When she realized I was trying to put a hold on her, she began to squirm in place, trapped by my grip on her hair.
“Ow! Ow! Ow! Stop it! It’s mine!” Rebekah yelped as she wrapped her free arm around my waist and pushed into me, trying to knock me off balance. Her other kept pinwheeling out, keeping the paper away from me when I let go of her hair and reached for it again.
A loud guffaw of laughter stopped both of us in our tracks. Together, we looked at Alistair, who waved a hand at us. “Oh, never mind me,” he chortled. “I’m just enjoying the show. Though, if you could find a mud pit, or perhaps some pudding….”
Even though we were at an odd angle in relation to one another, the Siren and I exchanged glances and by mutual unspoken agreement let go of each other. “That’s not nice,” Rebekah huffed as she straightened her jacket.
“We were just having a discussion,” I said, keeping my voice haughty.
“Of course you were,” he said wryly, a slip of an accent peeking out. “Of course. As I said, never mind me.”
I turned my back on him and looked to Rebekah. “I’m just saying that you don’t know the city or this dimension that well yet. I know things you don’t.”
“I’m saying that I can take care of myself, and I have for a long time,” she said, managing to regain some of her tattered dignity. “And Alistair did it for me, not for you… and he’s my father, not yours.”
I threw up my hands. “Fine,” I snapped. “Fine. Go do whatever you want, but I’m done helping you.” I jabbed a finger at her, “You want to be treated like everyone else, fine. If you want my help, you’re paying me. I’ll play the hired muscle, but I’m not lifting a fucking finger without getting paid for it.”
“You said you’d help!” she squeaked out, blinking those wide eyes at me. “And it’s your lover, don’t you care that he’s in danger?”
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “Fuck him. Pay me.” I held out my hand and made a ‘come on’ gesture with my fingers. “By my count, I’ve already saved you twice tonight. Once in the cop shop, and once in Ger’s apartment.” I blinked, “Three times. The forest too.”
She squeaked again, a sound of indignant rage and disbelief. “But I wouldn’t have been there if you--”
“If you hadn’t asked for help from me,” I said. “And you’re right. People don’t work free in this town.”
“I thought we were friends!” she cried, aghast.
“I don’t have friends,” I replied coolly, trying to maintain a neutral expression. “There’s people I work with, and people I don’t. That’s all.”
“What a cold life you have,” she said, her words coming out slow and thick. “I’m sorry for you.”
“Don’t you dare be sorry for me!” I snapped, my anger flaring. “Don’t yo
u fucking dare!”
Rebekah snapped her mouth shut and gave me a wounded look. I bared my teeth at her, clutching my anger to me with both mental hands, embracing it. I knew my rage. I needed it.
What I didn’t want to admit was having this talk hurt… somewhere. Anger at the both of them, albeit for different reasons, and my frustration from this night were both present, spilling out. Demanding to be paid, saying I wasn’t a friend, that I had none… that hurt. I clenched my teeth together, holding onto my anger to mask it. It was far better to be angry all the time than to hurt for such a stupid, nonsensical reason.
I had to get some downtime and fast to get all of this sorted out. My philosophy, my work ethic, my whole life was unraveling before me tonight with all of these alien threads and feelings coiled around my mind and my heart. Not to sound overdramatic, I watched my whole world fall apart right in front of me. Fear… again with the fear… took root, yet I had no idea what I was afraid of. Right now, I was safe, hidden away so our enemies couldn’t find us, warm, and mostly unhurt. I had no cause to fear anything.
What the Siren had said did ring true and maybe that was what I feared: being alone. I shook my head and turned away from her. “Alistair, do you have a place I can wash up and be alone for a little bit? I need to sort some things out,” I asked. I turned to look over my shoulder and said snidely as I gave Rebekah a look laced with scorn, “If my boss is OK with that.”
“Of course, Caprice,” he said, his lips twitching. “Upstairs and to the right, there’s the guest bedroom, complete with a bath.”
“You actually have a guest bedroom?” I asked. “But you don’t have guests.”
“I do tonight,” he pointed out. Well, he had me there.
“Thanks,” I said, and glanced at Rebekah once more, who stood there in sullen silence, her arms crossed. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’ll be back down later.” I had to go sort some shit out in my head and I had no idea how long that would take. It would be better to do it now than keep on being unbalanced and unpredictable. Perhaps that was good for a fight, but it wasn’t good for my equilibrium.
Chapter Eleven
I stepped out the hot shower and grabbed the towel. Alistair certainly did have a guest room, though it wasn’t posh like his study. He had piled books and boxes in the room, which made it feel as if the walls were closing in and threatening to topple over. The bathroom had been more or less clean, but empty of any niceties such as a brush, soap, or even a wash cloth. I’d had to go hunting around for supplies and found them in the upper hall closet. As I had closed the closet door, I heard the two of them talking downstairs, low and intense, but I didn’t deign to listen in.
Now that I had inspected my bumps and bruises and found them to be fading nicely--thank you so much, vampire blood inspired healing--and showered, I felt almost human. Well, more like myself anyway. My head still whirled with all of these different emotions. Whatever had broken in me had undammed something I’d repressed for a long time. That, or it was from the block my mother had put in my head. It could have been both.
Having no other clothes, I put on the dirty ones though they weren’t that bad. I could stand them for another hour until I could hit up one of my hideouts. Since we were no longer being followed, it would be safe to return, rest, eat properly, and plan my next move… unless I did decide to make Rebekah the leader. I regretted those words, but hey, if she paid me for something I was doing anyway, that was a bonus.
Fully dressed, I sat down on the bed cross-legged and closed my eyes. I had to get my head sorted out. It wasn’t just ‘oh tee hee I have a crush on Nosferatu’ any more. These emotions interfered with me, inhibiting me from functioning properly. I had no idea how to deal with real, and not play, feelings. Believe me, seeing emotions and having them were two completely different circumstances. It was the difference between seeing the picture of a wound as opposed to having the wound yourself. It was easy enough to fold, change, or destroy the picture, but sewing up a gash on yourself? Besides, working other people’s heads over was easier because if I made a mistake or pushed too hard, who cared? I didn’t. I wasn’t too adept at flat out mind control anyway, preferring to nudge people this way and that so as to keep my rule unbroken. Suggestions weren’t control. They often worked, but not always.
I couldn’t just ‘suggest’ to myself to ignore it. A telepath’s mind was a different thing… it was a world, something real and tangible. Thoughts, memories, skills, and emotions… these were the building blocks of all men’s minds. I called them threads. Gerard called them files. We meant the same thing. While each person was a world unto themselves, only a telepath could see those worlds and interact with them. Even depowered, telepaths held utter control over their own mindscape. They tended to feel more deeply, remember things with perfect clarity, and made real the imaginary.
When I turned inward, I pictured my brain. From what I gathered, other telepaths often had mazes in their heads, significant places to represent parts of themselves. Gerard’s mind, for example, was wretchedly ordered. Built like an army base, when you entered signs pointed the direction to go, though I had never been able to read the writing there. The symbols he used made no sense to me. File cabinets inside the buildings held his skills and memories. Down a staircase led into a cave, a dark and dank place where he held more of his core self: his emotions and directives. It contained some memories as well, the ones he most treasured and reviewed often… the ones which had the strongest meaning for him. A door was in that cave and when I had opened it, a cold wind had blown it shut. All I had seen was darkness and a hunger.
It was more complicated than that and he changed it around to suit him, but he tended to prefer the base because it appealed to his organized nature. Me, on the other hand? I pictured a brain… and that was it. I never said I was super creative. It was simple, to the point, and it worked for me. When I had to manipulate my own mind, it was always the same: a mindscape made up of squishy brain bits and the threads of my emotions, the threads which made up my personality, embedded in it. I could pull them out, lengthen or shorten them as I pleased. Sometimes it reminded me of the Greek goddesses who created, measured, and cut the strings of man’s fate. If anything, I was Atropos. It wasn’t a bad image, but images and trappings didn’t mean much to me.
I didn’t value things like that. I didn’t value places or things. What I valued was myself, power, and other people’s emotions. When I killed, I savored their feelings, stealing them for my own. A rush ran through me as I felt their fear, tasted it like a fine wine. Their pain served as my meal, feeding me, feeding this insatiable hunger I had inside of me. Those things were the whole of my existence.
Usually every week or so, I would sit down and go over what had been going on. It was a way to organize myself, but also to review the trophies in my head, relive the kills. It centered me. This last month since returning from Axis, I hadn’t had a chance to do that. There simply hadn’t been time, and frankly… not inclination either. I knew I had to do it, which sucked all the fun out of reliving my kills. Couple that with helping the Siren and the other new arrivals get settled, getting in touch with fixers, training with Gerard, and doing my own jobs….
As I concentrated on myself, turning inward instead of outward, a niggling bit of doubt hit me that perhaps I didn’t want to fix myself and go back to being a pure sociopath. Perhaps part of me liked having these awful, confusing, conflicting emotions. I groaned. Even having those doubts proved how corrupted I was. Was it the vampire blood? I didn’t think so. It didn’t help, but it wasn’t that.
However, since I knew that was an invader, I started with my feelings for Nosferatu. In my dark mind, I saw the threads moving in and out of the squishy brain floor around me. The main thread for Nosferatu was pulsating green, light colored. At a glance, I knew it meant possessiveness, but a person’s mind--even one as simple as my own--was so much more complex than that. Kneeling down beside the thread, I took it in hand. It felt like
a cock, thick and veiny. Inside the thread were other mini threads, like fibers of a ribbon, all of which added to the emotion. As I began separating them out, I saw it was all mixed up with Michael too. This bit meant I enjoyed flirting with him, this bit meant I admired his sword work, this bit wanted the sadistic Nosferatu to bite me, and so on. I sorted through them, trying to figure out which the vampire blood had either created or augmented and which were the ones I had had before.
With some disgust, I saw the first stirrings of real emotion, real caring in the thread, and I grasped it with my hand. When I yanked on it, pain lanced through my head and my hand felt as though it were on fire. I dropped the fiber immediately and stared at it, rubbing my mental temple. I took the miniature thread in hand again and felt the silky texture. Emotion rushed into me as I concentrated on it. My heart thumped in my chest as desire to simply be around him welled up inside of me. When I pulled on it slowly, pain began to build. The harder I pulled, the more painful it was until I was forced to let go.
This wasn’t good. So far as I could tell, it was a part of me. Maybe there had been a sliver of it before, but not like this. Not anything like this. I sorted through the other components which made up my possessiveness of him. It wasn’t love, else the main thread would be a different color, but the want to have him, to have him be mine and mine alone. It was the closest thing to love I knew.
I couldn’t pull it out. The pain told me something dire would happen if I continued. I had no idea what unraveling that thread would do to the rest of me. I turned to the other artificial feelings in my head: those for Adira. The color was different, more of a silvery grey-green than the writhing kelly green of possessiveness. Oh, sure, the want to have her was still there, but it was just a component of it. The main component was silver admiration, coupled with the green. Thinking back on when we first met, I hadn’t liked her much since she’d laughed at me. That had changed when I defeated their leader in one on one combat and I had been given her grudging respect. If what Rory told me was correct, the pack in general respected me because of the battle we’d fought together. It was mutual. They were tough and none as tough as their leaders. I’d only met Freyja tonight, but Adira… she adapted, and had adapted well to my world.