An insistent whine pierced the night, and the lights outside took on an insistent, pulsing rhythm. Some form of reinforcements had evidently arrived. The vampire reluctantly followed Nate from the shadows.
Before they’d made it halfway across the floor, a voice raised in greeting. “There’s my favorite demon bait! Still with the living, I take it?”
The vampire bared his fangs in a snarl. There was a sour note in this man that was only too reminiscent of the demon they’d fought, and his saunter was calculated to offend. Everything about him, from his gaze, too sharp and calculating, to his self-importance was insolent. Beneath this front, something coiled serpent-like, sensed but not seen. I would tear you to pieces, the vampire promised, positioning himself between Nate and this new threat.
“Don’t start anything,” Nate warned him in a voice pitched for the vampire’s hearing alone. “Gunn would love an excuse to take you back for further questioning. Let me talk. You can vent the extra anger when we’re away from here.”
The vampire retracted his fangs with difficulty. Watching the lemur approach went against every instinct he had―not to mention the woman trotting at his heels! The ripe smell of spoiled meat, strong enough to be detected even despite the stench left by the demon, was peculiar to werewolves, and the vampire resented acutely the presence of another predator. He bared his teeth―and felt a firm hand grip his ass. Startled, the vampire turned to find Nate standing close by. His familiar scent, intermingled with the scent of his arousal and their earlier activity, reminded him that he had a vested interest in not antagonizing either of their companions.
“Should you even be on duty?” Nate asked the officer. “I heard you were sick.”
“What, and miss all the fun? I see the two of you have been busy.” Gunn looked down at the demon’s corpse. “You decided to throw a mummy unwrapping party without us?”
The demon was gray and shriveled as if he had been dead thousands of years, not minutes. He looked child-sized, parchment-thin skin hanging off its bones. Nothing remained of his finery. His blood hissed, subsiding into a sticky mass on the floor.
“I think it’s a demon,” Nate supplied helpfully. “I’m pretty sure it’s dead.”
Gunn shot him a flat look, before turning to his subordinate. “Kenzie, you want to confirm―”
His second-in-command was no longer behind him. She leaned an arm against one of the crates and was noisily sick.
“For crying out loud! We employ you to hunt monsters―not subsidize your illnesses!” Gunn turned on his subordinate.
Kenzie muttered something in a low growl. The vampire wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught the words ‘try saying that with my nose’ and winced. From a werewolf’s perspective, the warehouse would be unbearable.
“I think Kenzie has the right idea.” Nate moved towards the door. “Can we get some fresh air?”
“Not so fast.” Gunn narrowed his eyes. “Tell me what happened here.”
“Short version, Sandy’s demon tried to eat Ben. Ben really didn’t agree with him. He burnt up instead― Please, Gunn? I don’t know how much longer I can keep this down.”
Advertising weakness in front of Gunn was never a good idea. “And the long version?”
Seeing the lemur bare his teeth in triumph, the vampire readied himself to defend Nate.
Nate elbowed him gently. “If I throw up on your jacket, you’re paying the dry cleaning yourself, Gunn. I’m broke.”
The lemur transferred his attention to Ben. “You on the other hand… You’re looking really good for someone a demon took a stab at. Very good in fact…” Gunn tilted his head. “What’s wrong? You’re looking… human for once.”
The vampire attempted a shrug. “I’m relieved. The demon’s dead. We’re both…” It was really hard to care about word choice when every instinct was concentrated on the need to strike first, get his teeth into the lemur before it could react. “Fine.”
“There’s something off about this.” Gunn circled him. “And you’re not leaving until I know what that is.”
That was a definite threat! The vampire turned with him, readying himself to meet the man’s attack.
Instead he bumped into a warm body at his side. Nate placed a hand on his back, out of sight of the lemur’s sharp eyes. A reminder. “You guys can exert your egos all you want, but I’m heading outside for some air.” He offered his arm to the werewolf, who gratefully leaned on him.
Too gratefully. The vampire didn’t spare Gunn a second thought, following Nate and the wolf outside. He resented the way the wolf’s hand lingered over Nate’s arm, and every second it took Nate to find a quiet place for her to sit. Around them, sporadic fires were being stamped out courtesy of men in bright orange uniforms. Here and there, the remains of large, bat-winged creatures lay scattered on the ground. The vampire spared only a passing thought for them, far more concerned with inserting himself protectively at Nate’s elbow.
Gunn dogged their steps. “Now, perhaps―”
“Sir!” An officer, only a little bit charred, threw a salute as he stepped up to Gunn. “We apprehended a man trying to leave the scene! He doesn’t match the physical description of the suspect, but he was behaving erratically.”
“Do I have to do everything? Fine.” Gunn turned reluctantly. “Let’s see him.”
The man was thrust forward. He was elderly, his skin hanging in loose folds from his frail body, his limp, gray dreadlocks giving him a disreputable appearance. His eyes were filled with fear, not confidence, but the vampire recognized him instantly.
“Sandy,” Nate said at once. “That’s him.”
“This is Sandy?” Gunn folded his arms. “Nate, my respect for your romantic choices is officially zero.”
“Please.” Sandy’s voice was hoarse, the words rasped out painfully. “I’m just an old man. I never wanted this―”
Kenzie levered herself to her feet. She readied the cuffs she held with the ease of habitual use. “Samuel Abraham Miller, you are hereby charged with the assault and attempted murder of Georgina Martin, the murder of Olivia Winkler, Alex Harriet, and others, of summoning a demon, engaging in demonic fraternization with the intent to cause harm, endangerment of a minor and more.”
“You have the right to a lawyer,” Gunn agreed. “But good luck finding one willing to touch your case. Even those vultures have standards.”
Sandy was placed into a patrol car, Gunn and Kenzie climbing in with him. Having secured the agent, their first priority would be placing him beyond the reach of further demonic intervention.
As soon as the doors shut behind them and the car drove away, the scene lightened.
It could have been relief at securing the object of the operation and preventing further loss of life―but the vampire suspected that the true cause of relief was Gunn’s departure from the scene. Around them, officers were turning back to their work with renewed vigor. It was only a matter of time now before all the fires were extinguished, and the bat-creatures cleaned up.
Nate leaned over to whisper in the vampire’s ear. “Let’s go now, before anyone remembers to take our statement.”
The vampire bared his teeth in agreement.
✩✩✩
The light filtered softly through his thoughts until he could no longer ignore it. Ben stretched out a hand, lazily shielding himself from the light. For a moment, he thought he dreamed still. There was no way that peace this strong could be his in reality.
The movement caused a chain reaction. Ben became aware of other aches, the small kind that were more pleasant than painful because they came with the memory of satisfaction. That protest in his arm brought an image of himself, his arms locked around Nate, urging him further. The lingering stiffness in his legs indicated Nate had obliged―or was that a memory from Ben turning the tables? Ben shifted, content to bask in the vague bliss of the memories.
“Hey.”
Ben turned his head.
Nate sat with his back against the headboard. In contrast to the content Ben felt, Nate looked tired. His skin looked washed out, making the red patch on his neck―a hickey―even more prominent.
Ben felt his face flush. “Hey.” He struggled to sit. “You―woke early?”
“Didn’t sleep. I didn’t know what’d happen when the sun rose.” Nate’s voice had a hoarse edge. “What else could I do? That obviously wasn’t you―normal you―but you had a heartbeat.”
Heartbeat? Ben stared at Nate as the implications of his words sank in. He sat up, losing the sheet tossed lightly over him as he pressed his fingers to the vein in his throat.
His heartbeat answered him, a steady thump beneath his fingers. Ben breathed out, shutting his eyes in relief. I’m alive―
Memories began to surface. Snarling at the passersby on the street who’d made a pointed remark about Nate’s Century bracelet. Licking Nate’s cheek so the taxi driver was in no doubt about who belonged to whom. Pressing Nate up against the door of the apartment the second it shut behind them… Heat flooded Ben’s cheeks. The memories were too vivid to doubt their truth, but the thinking that colored them was foreign. The vampire.
“When the circle activated and the demon appeared, it―drained me of my life. I started to die. But instead of dying, I became a vampire―the living dead.” Ben felt as if his vision aligned, previously half-suspected facts lining up with the focus of truth.
“You didn’t know this would happen?”
Ben looked at Nate. “I had a hunch. George and Harriet had a plan. When Sandy mentioned vampires it hit me― The vampire was their secret weapon. It could kill the demon from within the circle. After that―” he stopped. “I hoped that if there was a chance I’d retained my…mind…you’d know it.”
“And if not?”
Ben couldn’t answer.
Nate sighed, dragging a hand across his face. “Until you spoke, I didn’t know if I was imagining the awareness in your actions or not. I was scared, but at the same time―if I was about to lose you, I didn’t want to give up even a second with you. Even…if it wasn’t you.” He put up a hand, forestalling the words Ben was about to say. “No. If I don’t say this now, I never will.”
Ben’s fingers dug deeply into the sheets. A feeling of dread settled over him.
“It…hit me then. I finally get what you meant in the barn. I’m not strong enough to be the person you need. I’m not strong enough, but I want to be.”
Ben forced himself to stay still. He’d just got control of himself back. He wasn’t going to lose it, giving way to his feelings of panic. “What do you mean? Is this―” He struggled to say the word.
“Not good-bye for good,” Nate promised. “Just for now. It’s going to take time for me to figure out what I need to do. And you need to find yourself.”
“Right.” It was his plan. Why did it hurt so much coming from Nate? Ben nodded, refusing to give way to the pounding in his chest.
Nate stood. Ben heard him step across the floor but refused to look up. He didn’t trust himself not to give way.
Nate’s hand rested on his shoulder. “It’s not forever.” And then his warmth was gone, and Ben heard the bedroom door close behind him.
✩✩✩
“So.” George no longer smelled of singed hair and demon. She was allowed to sit up, greeting Ben and his offering of chocolates cheerfully. “Sorry for leaving you a half-finished job, but the Department Seven officer who interviewed me this morning told me that you’d settled things all right.”
Ben permitted himself a smirk. Despite everything else, they’d done the impossible―killed a demon and ended an eighty-year-old killing spree. “It’s cool. It’s what we do.”
George grinned, leaning back against the pillows. “Harriet would be pleased. You know, it’s weird.” She tugged at her badly mangled hair. “In our best-case scenario, I’d still be dead, Harriet would be the one carrying on. I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”
Ben sat in the same seat he’d occupied that long, uncomfortable night watch. “Are you going to be all right?”
“I’m a survivor.” George shrugged. “I’ve got some work to do. Would feel a lot better knowing I had a partner to work on it with…”
“Not happening.”
“Had to try. Which reminds me― I got something for you. Open that cabinet there.”
Ben knelt to open the small bedside drawers. Inside was a jacket Ben had last seen hanging in Harriet’s motel room. He glanced at George.
“Harriet left me his stuff. Department Seven returned a few of them. Look underneath.”
Ben’s hand touched a book. He pulled out Harriet’s copy of Of Monsters.
“I want you to have this,” George said.
“Are you sure? This is―”
“Harriet’s legacy,” George said. “You never met the guy, but you finished his life’s work for him. The demon took his brother. I know this is what he’d have wanted.”
Ben looked down at the book. For the second time that day, he was having a hard time speaking. “Then, I accept.”
“Good. And just remember― You owe me, now.” George smirked at him.
Ben stared at her. Have I been had?
✩✩✩
He was no nearer to answering that question as he reached his apartment. Possession of the book without a license was an offense. As an ARX agent, Ben had been cleared to deal with dangerous literature…but demons were a league of their own. Does George intend to blackmail me? I could be charged with possession… The smart thing to do would be to turn the book over to the authorities at once―or to apply for the requisite license through Department Seven.
I’m going to be there anyway… Legal proceedings ate time and paper, even when lodged against deadly hell creatures. Ben had survived one round of interviews, but he knew there would be others. He sank into the sofa, opening the book.
When was the last time I just…read?
It had been a year at least. Ben’s mouth quirked. Reading a proscribed medieval text was not everyone’s idea of fun. I have to start somewhere.
He started at the beginning. The author, a novice monk, flushed with pride at being selected to join the expedition headed by Brother Pius, a veteran exorcist with years of experience in the business of seeking and eradicating the supernatural, was vocal in his self-congratulations, including in generous detail all the particulars and furnishings of the party he was to be a member of. His companions were less enthusiastic, knowing very well that few of Pius’s companions returned from his secretive expeditions. Half their small party was lost almost immediately in fierce battle with creatures the novice described as ‘trolls’―a mistake in the translation? Or was their more truth in folklore than Ben was aware of?
Ben quickly became engrossed with the novice’s account of the trials that followed. Not even the cumbersome medieval spellings or the frequent pious asides could detract from the interest of the account. Every village they arrived at seemed to have its own peculiar supernatural misfortune. Monks died of battle wounds, succumbed to the temptations of the fiends they fought, or eloped with comely village girls. The novice dealt with these at first with the optimism of youth, then the resolution of faith, and finally with philosophic resignation and a certain wry humor that reminded Ben very much of something just out of mind.
Recognition was just within reach when he reached the final chapter. The novice, now a brother, was the last of those to remain with Brother Pius. The two had made their way to a village, all the people of which had deserted it ten years previously, but which Pius was certain contained the means by which they might finally lay hands on the demon Samigina that had so far evaded their just pursuit. The novice had doubts.
For some weeks previous, I had observed that we were pursued by a man, seemingly of noble class, if not of manner―proud and cruel, with an air of abiding sorrow, and who seemed most assiduously keen to make our acquaintance. That my most observant brother, usually so quick to draw my attention to persons of interest, should appear utterly indifferent to such a singular man―and singular he was, though my quill struggles to express in what manner―and even scold me for bringing him into the conversation at all, only made me more curious, and keeping a watch on the shadowy lord, I realized I was not mistaken. He appeared each night a few hours after sunset, and though I asked, I could find no one to tell me his name or his lodgings.
Ben tapped the page thoughtfully. Vampire? In all of their travels, the novice had yet to report encountering one. At this point in history, vampires were relatively unknown in Europe. It was not strange the novice shouldn’t make the immediate connection―Or am I jumping to conclusions based on my own experiences? Ben turned the next page and felt an eerie sense of dislocation.
Pius bade me prepare for a lengthy ordeal, ordering me to fast and meditate and purge myself of all worldly thoughts before the vigil he planned in the abandoned church. Your humble Brother Scribe was, I confess, less concerned with the vigil than eager to see if my supposition was correct and our noble shadow would follow us as far as this deserted town.
In searching for any sign of the nobleman, I saw Pius crafting a circle with many strange runes, that made me ill to look upon, and pausing often as he did, looking about him with such a clandestine air, that truly I became quite uneasy. Why I should have shrunk from hailing my fellow, and inquiring of him the meaning of his actions, I cannot say, but I returned to my room to pray, uneasy in spirit and oppressed by what I had seen.
And by and by, the sun set, and Pius came to fetch me to the church. He was in a fine mood, assuring me that he had every faith in our success, and yet he seemed to be always looking at something in the shadows as he spoke. I grew even more concerned and had just resolved to say something when behold! We reached the abandoned church and to my amazement and Pius’s anger, the doors stood wide open, and all the candles were extinguished. Pius was a great deal vexed, for he said we had need of a great deal of light for the long night before us, but I told him that I carried an extra supply in my saddlebags and went to fetch it. And to my intense astonishment, who waited for me in the stables but the nobleman himself?
He apologized and said that he trust that I should forgive him in time and before I could enquire what sin I must absolve him of, he had struck me a glancing blow and I fell to the floor, stunned. I woke, not more than quarter of an hour later, stripped of my robes and quite alone in the stable. Thinking to warn Pius I made my way back to the church. To my dazed eyes I saw Pius enacting the vigil with a hooded, robed figure and I realized the nobleman had taken my place in the vigil! But it was no holy rite that Pius enacted.
My blood ran cold as I watched the shadows grow, the air growing thick with the presence of those that prey on men. And just as the awful scene reached its climax, and Pius raised his hands in the final chant, I saw a figure gilded in the finery of sin and proud as Lucifer himself appear within that awful circle―Samigina itself! At once, the hooded figure jumped up, letting its hood fall back to display a face no less terrible than that of the demon. It leaped at it, as a terrier leaps on a rat, and this awful beast did rend savagely the demonic creature. Pius himself shrieked dreadfully. “Betrayed! I am betrayed and undone!” He ran for the door of the church. Here I jumped up and, scarcely knowing what I did, tackled my false brother to the ground. He did not resist, but lay moaning and crying, and I looked to see how the demon fared. It was dead or dying, and the creature that killed it approached. Its face was smeared with blood and the animal light shone in its eyes, but it restrained itself with difficulty, turning its face so I might not see its fangs.
“I had hoped to spare you this sight,” he said. “You are not hurt?”
“No,” I said. “But I cannot say the same for my brother.”
“Your brother has sought to betray you,” the noble sneered. “Well, this is Christian charity if nothing else! Let us look at him.”
But when I succeeded in turning Pius over, we found him dead.
The noble would fain have hurried me away to the next town, but I would not leave Pius―bless his soul, wherever it may be!―and stayed to bury him and burn the thing that remained of the demon.
It is my belief that in his many years of dedication to his pursuit of delivering the innocent people of these wild lands from the burden of the supernatural, Pius was tempted to make a pact of power of his own, reasoning what was one soul lost when so many others hung in the balance? When I ventured to share this opinion with my companion, he smiled and made no reply. The noble told me much that explained the mysteries of the last few weeks and much else besides―that Pius must have made a deal with this demon many years since and has delivered it a burden of souls, that the noble has been tracking it for many years, that had he not taken my place in the circle, this humble scribe would be nothing more than a few humble lines on a stone in an abandoned churchyard, and that my noble lord is not human but a member of that species that even demons fear, that which, if it is spoken of at all, is termed vampyr…
Ben stared down at the page he’d just read. A monk crossing paths with a vampire… He swallowed. Godfrey…?
The blaring of his phone made him jump. Ben snatched it up, his heart pounding. “Hello?”
“This is not a pleasure call, Bennet.”
Gunn was using his full name? Ben raised his eyebrows. If he was about to arrest him, Gunn wouldn’t be playing nice―well, nice by Gunn standards anyway. “Have you ever made a pleasure call?”
“Graphic detail is your boyfriend’s department. Anyway.” Gunn cleared his throat. “I have my social worker hat on today.”
Ben pursed his lips. He knew Department Seven was severely understaffed, but he still had a hard time imagining Gunn in this role. “Every single other person in the department was unavailable?”
“Shut up. I’m doing my yearly good deed.” It was hard to read Gunn’s tone. “You own the building you live in, right? And you rent apartments to the supernatural?”
“You know we―I―do.” It was his father’s policy, and even after his death, Ben had seen no reason to change things. “An agency handles the tenancy agreements―”
“But it’s your call, right? I got an urgent case for your consideration, Mr. Landlord.”
“I don’t have any free apartments―” Ben stopped. The apartment where his mother died was empty. “702?”
“That’s the one.”
“It’s haunted.”
“These guys are desperate,” Gunn said. “And I’m desperate to get rid of them. It’s this or finding a suitably sized cardboard box.”
Ben narrowed his eyes. Any tenants that Gunn recommended were bound to have a catch. “What’s the story?”
“Victims of the heightened restrictions after the necromancer killings. Our charming pair are deemed a security risk by their former lodgings and are in desperate need of a place to crash. They have no references, no bond, one has a personal history that is best described as vague, the other a mountain of student debt. I mean, I personally have no qualms throwing them to the wolves, but got to do my due diligence.”
“Bare-minimum effort, you mean.” But Ben was already feeling sorry for whoever had been consigned to Gunn’s care. “No promises, but I’m willing to look at them.”
“Great. We’re waiting outside the apartment.” Gunn hung up.
Ben looked at his blank phone. For the second time that day, he was sure he’d been had.
He hid the book under a sofa cushion―so obvious no one would think of looking for it there, right?―and grabbed his keys from the table. As he descended the stairs to the seventh floor, Ben caught the echoes of some very familiar voices. Now I know I’ve been had.
“This is a really bad idea,” Nate insisted. “Ben’s got enough on his plate without unwanted tenants.”
Aki drummed a heel impatiently against the welcome mat. “Unwanted tenants? Give yourself more credit than that, Nate! We might even be able to trade on your relationship for reduced rent.”
Nate shook his head. “Ben’s not like that.”
“Thanks, Nate.” Ben climbed down the last of the stairs as they turned to meet him. He ignored Aki’s start of surprise and Nate’s alarm, focusing instead on Gunn, dropping cigarette ash on the stairwell. “You couldn’t have told me who the tenants were?”
Gunn bared wolfish teeth at him. “You should at least hear them out. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that they’re running out of options.”
Nate tried to hide his duffel bag and suitcase by standing in front of them, but Aki had an entire set of suitcases with him. “Please? We’ll be good tenants. No wild parties or any of that― We get enough excitement on the job.”
“Century’s kicked you out?”
“Of the employee dorms.” Aki shrugged, carelessly flicking his employee wristband. “But not our contracts. Nate is now considered a security risk, and well―” Aki scowled. “I couldn’t let him loose on New Camden alone. You know the trouble he gets into.”
“Aki exaggerates,” Nate cut in quickly. “I’m sure we’ll find something. We haven’t been around the hostels yet.”
Gunn’s lip curled. “You’ll find them an even stricter proposition than the rental agencies. Since the necromancer made his base in a hotel, the entire hospitality industry’s come down hard on supernaturals. Especially unknown supernaturals.”
And part of the conditions of Nate’s Class-three listing was having an address and being available for spot inspections. Ben did not like the way this added up.
“It’s our problem,” Nate insisted. “Not Ben’s. Look, he’s not interested in tenants. Let’s just consider our options somewhere else.”
“Wouldn’t have thought you’d be in such a hurry to leave,” Gunn drawled. “What’s the matter? Trouble in paradise?” His eyes glittered with obvious relish.
That explains Gunn’s interest in the matter of Nate and Aki’s housing. Feeding on misery, he’d sensed that Nate’s unhappiness had something to do with Ben and was intent on making the most of the ensuing drama. Ben motioned towards the stairs. “Nate. Can I have a word?”
“You don’t have to do this,” Nate said as they climbed the stairs to Ben’s apartment. “I’m sure Gunn’s exaggerating.”
Ben shook his head. “Finding housing in New Camden is hard enough, even without throwing being supernatural into the mix.” He found the key in the bundle in his father’s study, held it out to Nate. “Here.”
Nate didn’t take it. “You need to figure out who you are. You can’t do that when I’m around. Remember?”
Ben wrapped his fingers around the key. “I remember. I also remember you saying you didn’t want to influence me.”
Nate ducked his head. “We need to stay apart. So you can figure out who you are, and so I can get my shit together, be stronger―be someone you can rely on.”
“I do rely on you.” Ben reached out, intending to place a hand on Nate’s arm. “Nate―”
Nate put a hand up, forestalling him. “I knew you didn’t want to go back to being a vampire. But I still let it happen, telling myself it was okay, that you’d get control back, that you’d remember.”
“And I did.” Ben wrapped his arms around himself. “The demonic rite didn’t kill me. I survived.”
“But neither of us knew that would happen. And if it hadn’t―” Nate looked up, meeting Ben’s eyes. “There was no way I could ever kill you. Not after hearing you say you loved me.”
The tight fear in Ben uncurled, letting go of him. “I said I would never ask you to do that, Nate. I mean it. I’m trusting you with my life, not my death.”
Nate stared at him, openmouthed.
Ben smiled, reaching out his hand to brush Nate’s hair out of his eyes. This time Nate didn’t draw back. “You stopped me hurting Gunn, Kenzie―even Sandy. The more time I spent with you, the more of…me…I remembered. You kept me from losing myself to the vampire.” Ben dropped his hand. “I’ve still got a long way to go until I’m ready for a relationship with you. But until then…” He held out the key. “There’s no reason we should be strangers.”
Nate watched his face carefully. “You’re sure?”
Ben nodded. “We’re stronger together than we are apart.”
Nate took the key. His fingers lingered over Ben’s. “We’re not dating.”
“No.”
“Would you say we’re not not-dating?”
Ben’s mouth twitched. “How many negatives is that?”
“Aki’s going to ask.”
Ben brushed Nate’s arm as they turned back to the stairs. “Fine, then. We’re not not-dating.”