Something was very different about Michaela tonight. Something that left Jesus feeling decidedly uneasy.
“Did the recordings help?” he asked, and forked up some rice and steak from the takeout she had brought home. From the looks of her reddened cheeks and the chill on her skin, she had been out for some time, but he didn’t ask where. He was almost afraid to know. He sensed she had reached a crossroads, and as much as it hurt to think about, he wasn’t sure he could continue the journey with her.
“They did, thank you,” she said as she jabbed dispiritedly at the food on her plate.
“You’re not hungry?” He laid down his own fork and knife, raised his beer bottle, and took a healthy swig.
She gave a listless shrug. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“You didn’t find him yet, did you?” he said, guessing at the reason for her upset.
“I’m close. I’ve narrowed down his lair to two buildings in the projects, but there were too many people around this afternoon to risk a confrontation.”
Collateral damage. That she was worried about innocent lives was proof to him that she wasn’t ready to join the Slayer Council. From what he had seen and heard of them, they wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about how many humans they took down in order to fulfill a sanction.
Michaela still had compassion in her soul. That gave him hope he could still have a future with her. That she would realize there was no weakness in letting him stand at her side as a helpmate and an equal.
“What about tonight? Will you go after him tonight?” Alone, no doubt.
“That’s the plan. But it’s not just him.” She gazed at her food overly long, avoiding his probing gaze, then cut her steak and finally began to eat.
“What do you mean, ‘not just him’? Does he have another—what do you call them?”
“A fledgling,” she said without looking up, pretending to concentrate on eating.
But Jesus was used to cracking harder nuts than Michaela. “Look at me, love. You know this silent act won’t work on me.”
Michaela poked at the food on her plate, then with a disgusted sigh, she dropped her fork onto the dish where it clattered loudly.
She met his gaze. “We’ve already discussed this, J. I don’t want you going with me. It’s too risky.”
“Less risky than for you alone. You’re too close to this one. It’s personal. He’ll use your emotions against you.” Jesus placed his utensils down more calmly and pushed his plate away, his appetite gone.
“How do you know?” she challenged, tightly gripping the edges of the table.
“Because I chase down sick fucks like him all the time, love. It’s what I do, remember?”
She hesitated, clenching and unclenching her grip on the table. Finally, thankfully, she nodded. “It is emotional for me, J. It has to be. He’s my goddamn father. What am I if I stop feeling?”
She would become like all the other Slayers. She was worried about becoming like them, cold and unemotional. Vacant inside.
Good. As long as she kept thinking, she could never be like them.
“I don’t want you to stop feeling, Michaela. I just want you to understand you don’t have to be alone. No matter what the Council wants, you don’t have to do what they say.”
The glimmer of a smile graced the corner of her lips. “Because rules were meant to be broken?”
“So you’ve told me often enough. So if I’m willing to break my rules and get involved—”
“I shouldn’t be pigheaded, and let you go with me,” she finished, her smile growing—if hesitantly.
“Seems to me, if there are two of them, two of us would be better than one.” He grabbed his knife and fork and resumed eating, his appetite slightly restored by the possibility she would see reason and give in to his request.
“Maybe. Probably. I guess we should finish dinner so we can get going,” she said, and also picked up her cutlery.
He smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”
When they were done, Michaela said, “If you insist on going with me, you’ll need more protection.” She ran her hand over his side, which was had yet to fully heal and was still tender to the touch.
“I brought home a couple of bulletproof vests,” he said, and touched the spot on her ribs where she had been staked, also not fully healed. The wound definitely remained a vulnerability, judging from her fight with Kieran the other night.
“Pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you?” she said .
He smiled and drew her into his embrace. “Let’s just say I was hopeful.”
“Hopeful is good, J. I appreciate it.” She rose on tiptoe and skimmed a kiss along the underside of his jaw.
He bent to capture her lips, opening his mouth on hers and offering a hopeful promise of what he wanted for them. When they reluctantly broke apart, she eased her hand into his and together they walked into the bedroom to prepare for the fight ahead.
Jesus removed the two Kevlar vests from a duffle bag and tossed the larger one on the bed. He walked over to Michaela with the smaller vest and helped her into it, adjusting it so it wouldn’t shift and hinder her, or restrict her movements. When he was finished, she helped him with his, her look intense as she worked the straps.
Jesus smiled, warmed by her concern. They finished dressing, and he was careful to pick clothes that would allow him freedom of motion, but also protection. The jeans he eased on were comfortable and well-worn, but the denim was heavy enough to withstand rough surfaces. The black leather jacket offered even more protection, and fit comfortably over his shoulder harness and the Tec-9. For good measure, he had his Sig Sauer in a holster he would tuck at the small of his back. He was just adjusting that when Michaela returned, fully dressed and carrying something in her hands.
“I found this with my things,” she said, and held it out to him.
A black leather vest. A man’s vest.
He arched a brow.
“It was a...friend’s. He’s gone now,” she said, and brushed her hand over the supple leather in a telling gesture.
Permanently gone, Jesus surmised, and hated that it brought relief. She had clearly cared for the owner.
“Who was he?” he asked more sharply than he’d intended, and grimaced at how petty he sounded.
“Benjamin.”
Slayer Council Benjamin. Just as he’d figured.
He had only a vague recollection of a bloodied and broken man dying in Michaela’s arms in a cold underground chamber. At the time, Jesus had been far more concerned with her own terrible wounds, and not the man who was already too far gone to help.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, and tried not to sound grudging. “I know you cared for him. That he was a good friend.” Although he knew very well that Benjamin had been much more to her than a friend.
“Put it over your vest. The leather will help protect you,” she said, and sensing his unease, she came close and hugged him hard. “He’s long gone from my life and my heart, J. There’s only you, now.”
He hated his jealousy, because it was so unlike him. So unwelcome. So unexpected and disorienting that the worst thing he could possibly say just spilled out of his mouth before he could stop it. “I love you, Michaela.”
She jerked back, surprised. Looking as uncomfortable and uncertain as he was. “I...care for you, too, J. I really do.”
But she wasn’t ready for the “love” word. Not yet. Of course, he’d known that. Which was why he’d held in his own feelings. Until now...
“I’m glad, Michaela. And it’s okay. I’m a patient man.”
She nodded, but took another step back. “Come on. Let’s hit the road,” she said, turning away from him.
He cursed under his breath, calling himself a riot of names. But he reluctantly tugged on the vest, slipped on his shoulder harness, and readjusted the other holster at the small of his back. He finished off with his black leather jacket, shrugging it into place over his weapons.
When he turned, he found her ready to roll, her fight face on, full of determination and focused on just one thing.
Killing vampires.
***
Earlier that day, Michaela had narrowed down the possible locations for Connall’s lair to two buildings, but there had been too much human activity around for her to get in and check out the basements, where a vampire would be likely to have his den.
Tonight when she and J arrived, there were few people milling about. Most everyone had retreated indoors for safety. Shootings and drive-bys happened all the time in that area. Those remaining on the street were a mixed crowd—young people who thought themselves immortal and immune to the violence, and the thugs and hoodlums responsible for that violence.
Both sets avoided Michaela and Jesus, sensing they were major trouble as they walked along the littered paths toward the first building Michaela had identified. Luck was on their side as they approached the entry. One of the tenants was on his way out. The teenager gave them a long, suspicious look, and Jesus shifted his jacket to reveal the badge he had clipped onto his belt. The action also exposed the Tec-9 hanging from its sling.
The teenager’s eyes widened. He quickly moved out of their way and raced away from the building.
Michaela normally didn’t like making her presence so visible, but she had to admit having Jesus and his badge along helped avoid issues like nosy neighbors or cops who might interfere.
They pushed past the entry foyer with its rows of old brass mailboxes and went to the end of the hall and the stairs that led below ground level. The stairs were narrow, worrying her. If the fight spilled out here, it would be tough to get past the bottleneck. Downstairs, the hallway wasn’t much bigger and smelled musty despite fresh Sheetrock and paint on the walls. She imagined many of these basement apartments had been flooded by the hurricane, and as she moved from one door to the next, opening her senses to the physical presences beyond, it seemed some of the tenants had yet to return, since quite a few of the apartments were vacant. Those that were occupied so far had decidedly human inhabitants.
At Jesus’s questioning glance, she said, “I’m not getting any vibes here.”
Quickly exiting, they headed toward the adjacent building. Michaela paused for a moment, recollecting the images she had seen from the videos. The view from the gap between the two buildings roused a memory. From the distinct shape of the structures across the way, she had no doubt she had seen this strip of the waterfront. The old Domino Sugar plant was too unique to miss during the day, and seeing it now at night, she realized it was the dark, hulking shape in the background of the video that she had not been able to previously identify.
“I’m pretty sure this was where I saw them on the camera feeds,” she said to Jesus, and pointed out the identifying elements to him.
“It’s a short walk from here to Delancey and the bridge,” he confirmed as he checked out the vicinity, his cop’s eyes alert.
“Ready?” she asked, and at his nod, they went to the front door. It was locked, and with no one in sight, Michaela resorted to her lock picks.
Inside, the building was identical to the first one. They moved quickly down the hallway but used more care on the stairs, vigilant for anything out of the ordinary. Renovations had been done on the lower level of this building, too, but even the mix of smells could not hide one glaring odor from Michaela's heightened senses.
“I smell blood, J. Lots of it.” Carefully, she entered the hallway, alert for any undead presence. She sensed a powerful otherworldly vibe, but it was mixed, confusing her. Gesturing for Jesus to stop, she released her own power, and let it reach out to touch it.
A vibration started deep in her core.
Slayer power.
But mixed in with it was the taint of demon energy. Frowning, she looked around, searching for the source. She felt it approach and grow stronger as a shadow darkened the stairs leading down from the upper floors.
She motioned for Jesus to move away, out of sight of whoever was coming down. But she positioned herself in the hall right in front of the staircase, since there was no way someone with such strong powers wouldn’t already have sensed her. Better she confront them head on.
The first distinct footfall sounded as a pair of sturdy legs appeared on the stairs above. She could tell it was a man from his shoes and pants.
Adopting a fighting stance, she readied herself for a confrontation. But as the man descended and his face became visible, she gasped and froze. Her arms dropped in astonishment.
“Benjamin?”