by C. J. Pinard
“So they don’t know about us then?” Jonathan asked nervously.
Tony chuckled, “No way, my man. They only know about shifters and vamps. They don’t know about Immortals or sylphs, and especially not the Zie. They are so fixated on the vampires, though. They have managed to capture a couple and have them locked in some secret lab somewhere in New Mexico doing experiments on them.” Tony cringed.
“How do you know all this?” Jonathan asked.
“Oh, you don’t even know what kind of training these agents get. After I passed a very thorough background investigation, they sent me to training in Virginia for four months and they told us everything they knew about vampires and shapeshifters. They’re also heavily investigating the possible presence of extra-terrestrials, too.” He laughed.
“Are you serious? Now that’s ridiculous.” Jonathan laughed, too.
“I don’t know, you haven’t seen what I’ve seen. I’m starting to wonder myself!”
They turned their heads when they heard the whooshing of shoes on carpet. Adam was coming back down the hall.
“What are you two laughing about in here?” he asked with a smirk. He reeked of cigarette smoke, like always.
Tony didn’t miss a beat. “Turns out, Jonathan’s an old college pal of mine. I couldn’t place the face, but after you went out for your smoke, we worked it out,” the lie smoothly slipping out of his beautiful mouth.
“Well, I’d better be going,” Jonathan said. He turned around and headed for the elevators. He hit the call button and turned back around to face the men. “If you fellas need anything… anything at all, talk to Kat at the reception desk, she’ll get ahold of me, or get you what you need.”
“The gorgeous blonde in the pink dress?” Tony asked, smirking.
“That’s the one,” Jonathan replied, stepping onto the elevator.
Chapter 12
∞∞∞
Somewhere in Oregon – Present Day
“Darius! You better call me back the minute you get this!” Pascal ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He felt a rubber band in his pocket and plucked it out. He twirled it around his fingers before placing it around his wrist. As he pulled his hair into a ponytail at the base of his neck and fastened it with the rubber band, he blew out an exasperated breath. He walked around in circles while Angel lie still and moaning on the drafting table. He was trying to decide what to do.
∞∞∞
“What the hell is the vortex?” Jonathan asked, his eyes never leaving Darius’s. “Another one of Pascal’s bloodsucker clubs?”
Darius’s phone rang in his pocket. Kathryn grabbed it and saw Pascal’s name on the screen.
“Answer it,” she commanded, shoving it back at him. “If you say a word that we’re here, you lose a body part. And forever is a long time to go without your Johnson.” She pressed her gun against his crotch.
Darius shot daggers at her, but hit the button and answered, “Boss! Where are you?”
“Why haven’t you been answering your bloody phone? I’m stuck here and I need you to do that damned GPS thing and find my location,” Pascal said, obviously frustrated and distracted.
“Sorry, sir, I was feeding and the music was just really loud, couldn’t hear the phone,” Darius lied. “Where are you?”
“I don’t know, genius, I’ve just told you I need you to track my location. I know I’m near the water but I have no car and Angel’s been hurt,” he said.
“All right, will do. I will call you back in five.” Darius clicked off the phone before Pascal could say anything else.
All of them heard the conversation.
“Looks like she took a bullet,” Kathryn sneered. “Sucks to be her!”
With a gun at his back, Darius was marched into Pascal’s office inside the now-deserted, eerily quiet club, and fired up the laptop.
Lillian and Thomas still had Joshua and Mike at gunpoint. After a brief conversation, they decided to let Mike and Joshua go. Pascal and Angel were who they were after. The two vampires scuttled out of the club as quickly as they could.
After a few clicks of the computer, Darius had Pascal’s phone’s GPS location. He turned the monitor to face the Immortals and pointed at the screen, tapping it with his long, dark index finger. “Here, in Klamath Falls.”
“What else did he say when he called?” Thomas asked.
“Nothing. I have no idea what he’s doing in Klamath Falls. That’s in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?”
Jonathan looked at Kathryn. She said, “That’s near the wetlands. Looks like he didn’t get far. I wonder what’s holding him up?”
“His vampire bitch is hurt, that’s what,” Jonathan replied.
They began to hear approaching sirens, most likely heading for the club.
“That would be our cue to leave,” Thomas said.
They marched Darius at gunpoint to their waiting van, and with the GPS coordinates written down, they planned to head for Klamath Falls. As soon as Darius was placed into the backseat, he quickly yanked his cell phone from his pocket. Clumsily with both hands cuffed in front, he shot a quick text message to Pascal before the rest of the Immortals climbed into the van.
∞∞∞
San Francisco – 1947
Jonathan quickly took the creaky elevator back up to the sixteenth floor, and hurriedly walked into his office.
“Thomas, are you in here?” he called out.
Thomas appeared from around the doorway. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Come with me, you have to meet our new tenants,” he replied excitedly.
As they took the elevators back down to the sixth floor, Jonathan quickly explained who the agents were, and what they were doing in their building.
“Hello, Agents? Are you still here?” Jonathan called out.
The two agents appeared from one of the back offices.
“Mr. Murphy, back so soon?” Tony said.
“I just wanted to introduce you to my colleague, Tom. Tom, these are Agents Bianchi and Swift with the Justice Department.” Jonathan chose his words wisely.
Agent Swift looked curiously at Tom, but then shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. How long have you two been in the architectural business?”
It was Jonathan who answered, “We’ve been here about three years. I took Thomas under my wing last year.”
“Wow, you look awfully young to be an architect, son,” Agent Swift pushed.
“I’m a fast learner,” Thomas replied with a smile. He’d already decided he didn’t like Agent Swift.
Jonathan and Thomas said their goodbyes, and exited the floor.
“That kid looks so familiar to me, but I can’t place where I know him from,” he said to Agent Bianchi, while pulling the unlit cigarette from behind his ear.
But Tony knew exactly who he was. And he had an urgent phone call to make a.s.a.p.
Once Adam went out for his smoke, Tony looked over his shoulder and plucked a business card from his suit jacket and dialed the number on it.
“Detective O’Malley?” Tony said into his clunky black phone.
“Yes?”
“This is Agent Bianchi, there’s been a slight change of plans,” he explained quickly. “We are going to meet you at Sal’s Diner on Third Street instead of the Hyde Street bank building tomorrow.”
Joseph’s eyebrows knitted together, confusion and suspicion one solid emotion right now. He was happy Agent Bianchi couldn’t see it. “Is there a problem with your new location, Mr. Bianchi?” he quizzed.
Mustering up more cheer than he felt, he answered, “No! Not at all. It’s just that our furniture and other necessities haven’t all been delivered yet, and it would just be easier to meet you at Sal’s. We’ll buy you dinner even.”
“Okay not a problem, Agent. I’ll see you there tomorrow,” he finished, then hung up.
“Why is Agent Bianchi coming over here?” Thomas asked Jonathan.
Jonathan was pacing the floor a
gain, wearing a faded, flattened strip into his expensive rug. He contemplated lying to Thomas but decided it wasn’t a good idea. He raked his fingers through his wavy hair and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
He set down his scotch and sat on the sofa next to Tom, who had just gotten out of the shower. His black hair was still wet. Jonathan planted both feet flat on the floor, and rested his forearms loosely over his long legs. He then looked at Thomas seriously.
“Tom, listen. I think Agent Swift with the Justice Department recognized you,” he started.
“Oh, I don’t like that guy, something about him makes me suspicious, and –”
Jonathan cut him off, “Let me finish.” Then he paused again. “It’s not that there’s anything wrong with Agent Swift. He’s actually a very good agent, from what I’ve heard. However… I’ve been told that he not only knows your father, but was part of the investigation into your disappearance a year ago. I would bet my uncle’s gold watch that’s why you looked so familiar to him,” he finished.
Thomas just sat on the sofa, staring straight ahead, his mouth in a grim line.
“What’s worse, Tom, is that I believe they have recruited your father as some sort of liaison in the SFPD to help them keep tabs on the supernatural here in San Francisco.” Jonathan left out the part about Agent Bianchi telling him this earlier.
This time, Thomas let out a laugh, throwing his head back for dramatic effect. “Oh sure, Jonathan. I can just picture it now, my father investigating the Fae…`Mr. O’Malley, let me introduce you to Pete, here. Pete is a vampire and he wants to kill you’,” he mocked, using his hands as puppets. “Not gonna happen, boss. Not ever. My pop definitely does not believe in anything he can’t see. Except God.”
“Well, see, that’s the thing, Tom. I think your father has seen things. I’ve kept you out of it mostly, for your own good, but the previous liaison, I think his name was Johnson, showed him things; told him things.”
Thomas got up abruptly and grabbed a glass from the credenza and helped himself to some of Jonathan’s single-malt scotch. Jonathan did not protest. Well, he almost did when Thomas downed it like a shot instead of savoring it like one is supposed to. He knew poor Thomas needed to calm down. Thomas then began pacing the same strip of rug. He was snapping his forefinger and thumb of each hand as he walked, something Jonathan had seen him do on previous occasions during stress. A nervous habit, he figured.
Thomas’s mind was reeling. How was this even possible? The only way Thomas was comfortable leaving his parents was knowing that they were completely ignorant to the horrible world of the supernatural. A world where the Inner Sanctum wasn’t just a radio show, and all the monsters from his beloved comic books were actually real.
It had started to make sense to Thomas about six months ago. Thomas had always had a fascination with fiends and the supernatural; the movies, the radio shows, the books – from comic books to the classics, like Dracula and Frankenstein. It dawned on him one day, like a light bulb going off over his head, that these pieces of literature and pop culture were not from someone’s imagination – they were from their experiences. Untold encounters and terrifying experiences that nobody dare speak aloud for fear of being called insane and committed. That thought made him shudder. But what caused the icy tendrils of dread to crawl up his spine was the thought that his father – and God forbid his mother – could have any knowledge or be close enough to be harmed by these beasts; these cruel, soulless, inhuman monsters who crawled the night and sometimes the day. These wretched, undead, nasty beings that had no business being immortal or even alive. Thomas always took solace in the fact that his parents never went out after dark. He always worried with his father being a detective, but he was glad his mother would always be home, safe.
Truth was, he had wandered into the bushes of his old home once or twice; sneaking out after Jonathan was asleep. With his gift of flashing, he knew he would never, ever get caught. He was always comforted to see them safe in their bed, sleeping a less-than-peaceful, fitful slumber, which he knew was because of him. But they were safe, and it was all he had to hold on to.
But now this.
No way could his father have anything to do with the Fae. This wasn’t happening. Thomas started to feel lightheaded.
“Earth to Thomas!” Jonathan’s shout broke him from his thoughts.
“Sorry, what did you say?” Thomas asked wearily.
“I said, are you okay? You seemed to be off in another world there.”
Thomas didn’t reply. He just sat back down on the couch and exhaled dramatically, massaging his forehead with his thumb and forefinger.
“Tom, there’s more. You met Agent Bianchi. Did he seem different or strange to you at all?”
“Not really. A little too good-looking maybe. It should be illegal to be that handsome. Really.” His lame attempt at a joke.
Jonathan laughed humorlessly then said, “Well Tony… he’s… well… he’s an Immortal out of the Seattle Coven.”
“Get out of here!” Thomas said, jumping from the couch. “How did an Immortal get a job with the Justice Department?”
“Not just the Justice Department, Tom. The BSI, or the Bureau of Supernatural Investigation.” He paused for a reaction, but didn’t get one, so he continued. “Yes, the government knows about the Fae. And before you ask – no, they don’t know about the Immortals, the Zie, or the sylphs. Thank God.”
“Wow, this is huge, heavy. And now my father knows? My stars… could this night get any more bizarre?”
Chapter 13
∞∞∞
Klamath Falls, Oregon – Present Day
“I’m okay, baby, I’m okay,” Angel said, lifting herself delicately off the dusty drafting table and walking around. She was spinning at the waist, loosely letting her arms flop, trying to stretch out her back muscles.
Just then, Pascal’s phone chimed with an incoming text.
It was from Darius.
IMMORTAL COPS HAVE US, WE’RE HEADED UR WAY. TURN OFF PHONE GPS AND GET OUT OF THERE.
“Bloody hell,” he murmured.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Angel asked.
Pascal looked around the dilapidated factory and found what he was looking for in the corner next to some broken pallets. He had thrown it to the ground when he first arrived with the wailing and very injured Angel. He walked over to the large gun and picked it up, slinging it over his shoulder and head, wearing it diagonally across his back, like The Terminator.
He then sauntered over to the drafting table and picked up his precious Enchantment vials. He re-wrapped them in the towel and cradled them under his right arm like Sunday’s newspaper.
“Let’s go, love. Damn cops are on their way. They have Darius and Lord knows who else, and they’re headed straight for us. Turn off your phone.”
Angel reached into her black leather halter top and fished the phone out from between her cleavage.
“Need some help with that?” Pascal asked with a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Not this time, baby,” she winked. She looked down at the phone and held down the button down until it was powered off.
It wasn’t easy, but Pascal and Angel eventually made it out of the wetlands and found a nearby highway. They began to hitchhike along the dark road until some clueless teens in Goth clothing, driving an early 90s model two-door Honda, stopped to pick them up. Pascal tossed the gun into some nearby bushes.
“Hey, you guys need a ride?” the passenger asked. His face was white with makeup and eyeliner was smeared under his eyes in a disorderly fashion. He was very thin and had bad teeth. The other two teen boys in the car were both dressed similarly.
“That would be awesome, boys!” Angel said with as much valley-girl she could channel. “Our Mustang broke down back there,” she jerked her thumb behind her, “and we just need a ride into town. Both our cells are dead, too.” She finished with a giggle.
“Well, get in!” the driver smiled, stari
ng at her chest instead of her face.
The front passenger exited the car and flipped the seat back to allow Angel and Pascal to get in.
The lone teen in the backseat stared open-mouthed as Angel scrunched into the backseat next to him, pressing her breasts onto his arm as she sat. Pascal took the end, shoving his precious vials under the seat in front of him.
After about a twenty minute drive, filled with mostly idle chit-chat about the club the boys had just come from, they finally reached a town, and Pascal asked them to stop at the first gas station he saw. He instructed the driver to pull around the back unlit area, stating that’s where the restrooms probably were.
“Gotta drain the main vein, boys. You know how it is,” he mused.
The boys laughed at his crude joke and the driver did as he was instructed. As soon as they stopped, Angel asked the driver something and as he turned around to answer her, she looked into his eyes. With a little bit of persuasion, told him he also needed to go to the bathroom, planting the simple suggestion in his head.
As the passenger was already out of the car to allow them to exit, Pascal planted a similar suggestion in his mind, also. With Pascal and the two boys headed to the bathroom, that left Angel with the remaining passenger.
“Are… are… aren’t you going to get out?” he asked nervously, looking around her to his friends outside.
“How about a little kiss first?” She smiled, licking her lips.
His pants immediately tented, and as she leaned into his neck, her eyes turned black as coal and her fangs descended. He was too frightened to speak but managed to squeak out something inaudible. She bit into his neck quickly. He then let out a scream but was quickly subdued with vampire pheromone. His head lolled back onto the seat and a small moan escaped his already-parted lips.
In the restroom (Pascal had to break the doorknob since it was locked), the driver of the car was slumped over the sink, half-drained of all his blood, and as the passenger was exiting the stall, he was quickly subdued by Pascal and met a similar fate. He left both boys in the dirty restroom, alive, but barely.