William's Tale

by Regina Morris

  “We’ll provide what information we can from the tech pieces,” Raymond offered. “Now that we’ve killed the forger, they’ll know that immortals are behind it. Humans couldn’t have dispatched him so easily. If the leader is also a vampire, they’ll be taking their game up a notch when this vampire fails to show up with the passes. We’ll have to be more careful.”

  Dixon nodded. “Right.” He shifted in his seat and drained his beer.

  Raymond observed his old friend carefully. “So what’s bugging you tonight? I can feel your thought patterns, and I can tell it’s not good.”

  “Yeah, I’ve wanted to talk with you boys about something for a while now.” Dixon took a deep breath. “I’m going to retire. I’ve pushed off retirement as much as I could, but the years are getting to me now. It’s time to hand the reigns over to the next Director for you boys.”

  The men at the table were deadly quiet now as they studied Dixon’s face and took a good look at the man they had known for decades. “Are you sure?” Raymond asked. “I mean, we’ve had a lot of Directors in the past, but we see you as part of our team. Are you really that old?”

  “You know my age, Raymond. I’m not old, but I’m also not young anymore,” he sighed. His face suddenly appeared more aged to Raymond.

  Only the President and a handful of people knew about the COLONY and its immortal vampires who worked for the federal government. Once you left the inner circle your memories were erased. Raymond had performed the memory wipe many times and it was always complete, decisive, and permanent.

  “Look. I’ve been reviewing possible candidates and I think I’ve found the perfect replacement. Raymond, I’d like for the two of you to meet so I can see what you think of the Captain. How about this Friday at 8 a.m.?”

  “Whatever you need,” Raymond agreed. He suspected Dixon wanted to talk more but the late hour wasn’t affording them that opportunity. With the unspoken language that most old friends seem to have, Raymond looked over at Dixon, tilted his head slightly, and lifted an eyebrow.

  Raymond was happy the message was received. Dixon nodded, “Let’s put everything in motion, just like we talked about.” The exchange wasn’t noticed by the other team members and the response was cryptic enough so that only Raymond understood.

  “Does anyone want more to drink? I’m buying.” Dixon pulled out his phone to transfer money to an account the bar owner kept.

  “No. Go home, Dixon. It’s late and it looks like we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” Raymond smiled at his friend as he watched him pick up the backpack and start to leave. “I hope you’re happy with your decision.”

  Dixon completed the money transaction and put the phone back in his pocket. He then pulled a worn key off his key ring and placed it on the table. “Make sure to lock up.” He stood up from the table and walked out.

  “Now that was a shocker.” Ben said, as he slid the key over to Raymond. “But, if you two will excuse me, there’s a lovely lady I stood up this evening, and I plan on making it up to her tonight”

  “Ben,” Raymond touched his friend’s arm, “if you’re talking about the secretary from this afternoon, did you notice the ring on her finger?”

  “Yes, but she doesn’t seem to be a fanatic about it. Plus her husband is out of town. See you later.”

  Overall, it wasn’t any of his business, but it still bothered Raymond that the secretary was a married woman. His empty bottle indicated it was time to go.

  Sterling finished his drink and walked out with his father. As Raymond locked up, Sterling announced, “See ya at home tomorrow.”

  “Where are you going?” Raymond asked.

  “I have a date,” he said, hopping into his red Ferrari.

  Raymond tried to bite his tongue, but failed as usual. “With whom?”

  Sterling cocked an eyebrow and a devilish smirk appeared on his face. “I don’t know yet.”

  Raymond had to collect himself once again as he dealt with his only child. “Sterling, I don’t know why you insist on this reckless lifestyle of dating any human that crosses your path. I can’t say anything to Ben since he isn’t my son, but it really bothers me when you do it. We have blood at home so there’s no reason to go looking for it.”

  “Maybe it’s not the blood I’m after.”

  “Yeah. I know.” He shook his head. “A wife would be …”

  Sterling cut off his father. “We’re not having this conversation again, Dad.”

  Raymond raked his hand through his dark, thick hair. “I just don’t understand.”

  Anger flashed across Sterling’s face. “Because unlike you, I don’t like to sleep alone.” He then drove off, his license plate, ‘LOVR4U’, fading into the distance.

  *******

  Alex Brennan entered her therapist’s office and folded her long, lean body into her usual spot on the couch. Vanilla fragrance hung in the air from the candle on the window sill and assaulted her nostrils, leaving a sick feeling in her stomach. She hated the smell of vanilla since it always reminded her of this room. For a distraction she mentally reviewed her long list of things to do that seemed to never get done. A dentist appointment topped that list. Sighing, she thought how much nicer it would be to be getting a cleaning right now. Checking her watch, she realized she was early for the session. Damn. She hated therapy and definitely didn’t want to appear eager for it.

  She stared at the spot on the wall where the calendar charted time. She had seen three different calendars hanging there over the years and would prefer not to see a fourth one. She glanced at her watch and readied herself to hit the stopwatch feature. She was paying for 50 minutes of therapy, and she always made sure she got her full time.

  Dr. Micki O’Neil entered and closed the door. Alex appreciated that Micki always arrived right on time. She dressed in her usual button down blouse and slacks at every one of these sessions, and it pleased Alex that Micki was a civilian therapist and didn’t wear a military uniform. She suspected that she opened up more to the doctor when she thought of her as perhaps just an old friend, rather than a military officer. Micki sat in a chair adjacent to the couch. Overall, everything from the wing backed chairs, the paisley pillows with tassels, on down to the throw rug on the floor was designed to give one a sense of calm in this room. Perhaps it did work for many people, but Alex’s anxiety–wrung hands told a different story.

  “Good Morning, Alex. Happy belated birthday.”

  Alex’s eyebrow rose questioningly, but she composed herself quickly. She had given the therapist a fake birthday due to security reasons, but had forgotten until this very moment. Her birthday was actually weeks ago. She smiled at the woman and said, “Thanks, Micki. My birthday was earlier this week.”

  Micki pulled out a pen. “What number was it this year?”

  “Thirty–eight.” It was really thirty–nine.

  Micki smiled at her attractive, well put–together client. “Well, you look much younger – probably due to all the workout and training you do.”

  Alex felt her cheeks flush as she flashed a smile. She brushed her shoulder length auburn hair behind her ears. “Thanks Micki. And thanks again for meeting me so early this morning.”

  “It wasn’t a problem,” Micki smiled. “Last week when we met you were a bit anxious about your age and the passing of time in general. How was your birthday?” Micki thumbed through the folder she kept with the details of the years of therapy she conducted with Alex.

  Alex cleared her throat. She was always worried about getting older. She thought back to her actual birthday. “I’m slowly dying alone. I’m shriveling up and I’m lonely. So in every respect, my birthday was the same as all the other days, except it came with a Sara Lee individual, frozen, fat–free cake at the end of it.” Alex’s tone saddened as she played with her fingernails. She hung her head and avoided eye contact with Micki.

  “Why don’t you tell me a little about the day itself,” Micki suggested as she moved the box of Kleenex closer to
her client.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Alex said, settling deeper into the couch. “I’m getting older and the few men I do attract are immature boys.”

  “Uh huh,” Micki studied her client’s folder, flipping back several pages. “Alex, try to remember how far you’ve come,” she said as she put down the folder and looked into Alex’s eyes. “Only a few years ago you were afraid to even go out on a date. Not only have you been going out, you have had several dates this past month alone.”

  Alex glanced away. The increase of dates was directly proportionate to her birthday weeks ago. “I don’t think any of those guys count as real dates. In fact, one was more interested in my X–Box than he was in me, and believe me Micki, that isn’t a euphemism.”

  Micki leaned in, “Alex, you chose to date those men. You said ‘yes’ to their invitations to dinners and movies, but then you told the one that wanted to have sex with you that you weren’t interested.”

  Alex sighed and thought back to that moment. If she had eaten breakfast, it would be coming up about right now. Alex raised her voice in protest, “Look, I don’t want to settle. I want a real man.”

  Micki nodded, “You’ve told me in the past what a ‘real man’ is to you, but I’d like for you to tell me again now that you’ve started to date again.”

  Alex rolled her eyes. “I don’t know,” she asserted, but mentally she thought back to the man she had been dreaming about as of late. She couldn’t completely make out all of his features, but the name Adonis came to mind. Her heart rate sped up just thinking about him and his dark hair, but she repeated, “I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for.”

  “Somewhere deep inside, you do know. And you also know why you went out on dates with those men as well.”

  Alex crossed her arms and looked away from Micki, “I don’t want to talk about dating.”

  “All right, we can postpone that discussion for a few minutes. However, we will have to address it. I can’t help you unless you’re open and honest with me.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay. We can come back to that later.” Micki picked up the folder and flipped through more pages. “Looks like over the last few years your career has taken off. You had two promotions … and now you’re up for another one. If you get it, it will make you… ?”

  “‘Security Chief’ is the unofficial title,” Alex said, giving the woman an ambiguous job description. If she did accept the promotion, she couldn’t afford to allow a therapist to know exactly what she would be doing. It wasn’t as if she didn’t trust the woman, she just didn’t know her more than their therapy sessions. And even then, any personal information shared could be open to future blackmail. Even after all this time, Micki never even knew Alex’s real last name – and she always paid in cash. “I’d be responsible for the security teams that guard state officials,” she added, not wanting to mention that the state official would be the President of the United States. “It’s a good career move, even if it does sound like a mountain of paperwork.”

  “Fair enough,” Micki replied as she studied her client. “You don’t need to share with me the exact title or duties, but I do want to know how you feel about this promotion and what it means for your career?”

  Alex grabbed one of the pillows from the couch and, while she played with the tassels along its edge, she reflected upon her career. If she wanted something career–wise, she got it. She had always positioned herself strategically so she could command the best opportunities that were available. “I know. I’m putting my career above everything else. It’s what I do, but at least I can control what direction my career takes me,” Alex grimaced. She pulled at the strings of the tassel, carefully straightened them, and then moved onto the next one in the row.

  Micki wrote in the folder as she commented, “Control is very important to you.”

  Isn’t it to everyone? After a pause, Alex admitted, “At least I can get what I want.”

  “And how is that working out for you? Is it making you happy?” Micki asked.

  “Ugh!” Alex threw the pillow aside. “My career is great, but what I really want is a passionate relationship. I want a family. Where are all the real men out there?” She looked at her therapist, “I mean, I have this unclear picture of who I want. He’s perfect. He’s a Mr. Butch Manly … I just can’t seem to find him.”

  “Alex, you’re a top level security specialist. Your accomplishments at this young of an age can be intimidating to some men.”

  “To all men, I guess.” Alex said, “Except for the socially inept or the mama’s boys out there.” Alex bit her lip, looked down to the floor, and added, “Or the crazy stalker types.”

  “Men come in many sized packages, Alex. But it’s what’s on the inside that really counts. A small–framed, computer nerd who loves playing games can be a wonderful catch. You need to get past the wrapping.”

  Wiping away a tear, Alex confided, “It’s … it’s not the wrapping, Micki. I never get to know a man well enough to even get to the inner layers of who they really are.”

  “I know, and you’re doing a great job working on that. You are approaching your 40th birthday in a couple of years. The big ones tend to get people thinking of where they are in their life and what they are doing. We’ve had this discussion many times in the past, Alex. You want to have a passionate romance with a ‘Butch Manly’ type of guy, and then you select men who never quite fit that bill, then you only go on one date with them. You force yourself to be emotionally flat in these relationships in an effort to protect yourself from being vulnerable.” Looking at her client she asked, “It’s been a long time since we discussed it, but you did just mention it. Do you want to talk about the stalker that attacked you some more?”

  “Hell, no! I just wonder where all the heroes are.” Alex peeked at her watch and realized 45 minutes remained.

  UNITED SERVICE

  COLONY Series, Book #2

  Available September 2013

  Chapter One

  Gentle rain drizzled on Sterling’s nude body like healing kisses, renewing his sense of self–peace. His headache had subsided a little, but in truth, the ache always persisted. The pain was just more manageable now. Sterling reclined on the patio chair, his body dwarfing the size of the furniture as he stretched to wake up in his solitude. His skin chafed against the chair, feeling slightly sunburned. He opened his eyes to a cloudless sky and cursed as the sun blinded him . . . No more relief would come today.

  As a half–breed vampire, he didn’t have the protective inner eyelids the purebreds had, so he closed his eyes against the sun. He thought of the day’s schedule. He knew he would spend most of his time down at the penitentiary. He groaned because every time he visited the place, his body ached. It wasn’t being around humans that did him in, but rather, the physical touching of evidence. His ability to get information from inanimate objects proved helpful in solving cases, and he was happy to help. But his body always paid the price, and he detested the side effects.

  Sterling’s touch would tell him everything he needed to know about the item’s owner, what it was used for, and the feelings and emotions surrounding the item. Each touch would make his skin crawl and itch, and the more he touched, the more his skin would scream in agony. After a few hours, his head would pound with a migraine.

  But the pain meant nothing; it was just one more damn thing about his human half he had to deal with. Most vampire abilities had good side effects, but it was just his lot in life to be cursed. Fortunately though, his ability did allow him to bring some of the sickest and most depraved criminals to trial, and that was the justification he needed to keep living his lonely life.

  He squinted at the sun again as he reached for his sunglasses on the ground beside him, and sat up. The private sleeping porch of the Mansion was his little oasis, and his alone. No one would disturb him while he healed and sat in his solitude at his home, which everyone jokingly called Fang Manor.
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  Solitude and loneliness were only separated by a thin line. A very thin line — and he knew the feeling all too well.

  Sterling inhaled deeply, taking in the crisp morning air. He heard the chirping of the songbirds nearby and the wind chime down below swaying in the breeze. Cursing softly, he realized he could also hear his father with his new wife stirring in their bedroom, next to his sundeck.

  It was time to get up. The mansion’s walls weren’t soundproof, and he now tried to block out a conversation which had changed into more intimate noises. “Newlyweds,” he thought as he rolled his eyes. No way was he listening to an encore of last night. There wasn’t anything Oedipal in his distaste of the noise; it just reminded him how powerless he was to find a wife of his own. He had failed to secure an arranged marriage, and his own attempts to find a purebred vampire mate had proved unsuccessful, many times over.

  He stood, scooped up rain pooled on the chair beside him, and splashed it on his face. Shaking the water from his shoulder length hair, he moaned contently at the soothing touch. He knew this moment would be the last time he would feel good all day.

  Checking his rain catchers, he poured the collected rain into bottles to be used later. Sterling then walked through the few puddles of rainwater which sat on the stone floor of the deck. He opened the glass door and entered his private bedroom. He had chosen the decor himself. The cherry wood king–sized bed with matching nightstand and dresser filled the room. A hunter green duvet, with burgundy and gold pillows, in various sizes and shapes, were at the head and foot of the bed. An old gold cross, which he had inherited from his human grandmother, hung on the wall above the bed. As pleasant as the room was, Sterling spent little time here, even though this house had been his home for too many decades to count.