Caitlyn

Shortly after Ricky’s encounter with their prime suspect, Caitlyn found herself alone in the police station’s gym, staring out tinted windows as night swarmed around her. The barest twinkle of stars was visible against a midnight sky. Even when Caitlyn had been alive, the night had calmed her. Her Bass had constantly teased her about being a creature of the night. “As nocturnal as a vampire,” he’d said. Ironic that she would one day become such a monster.

For many years, Caitlyn had lived a half-life, existing in a perpetual sense of loneliness that felt like the blackest hole, the deepest quicksand. Many a time she had contemplated ending it all, ending the constant turmoil that raged inside her mind, but the thought of exacting justice for all that her family had suffered, the years of mental and physical torture Caitlyn had suffered while under his thumb, plus the new family she had created for herself—all those things kept her alive. Because if it were not for certain people, Caitlyn would walk right into the catacombs under Paris and make sure that not one sadistic vampire left there alive… herself included.

Caitlyn rubbed the palm of her hand over the place where her heart used to beat. Sometimes, when her thoughts became morose, she got this phantom pain in her chest as if the heart that had blackened over centuries could still summon up pain. Caitlyn knew that was not possible, yet there it was—a sudden sharp knife to the chest.

Once she had escaped the horrors of Paris, Caitlyn had roamed most of Europe before coming to Ireland. Having settled in Cork despite Chester’s objections—they shared a long and complicated past—Caitlyn had made a name for herself as an avenging angel, swooping in to save those targeted by bullies and thieves. That was how Tom Delany had tracked her down and told her how the supernatural council intended to bring their community to light. He’d explained that he’d been tasked with creating a team to police the vilest of the creatures forced out of the shadows and wanted Caitlyn to join them.

Caitlyn had refused at first, citing centuries of solitude and an inability to work within a team. But Sarge, as he was affectionately known, raised an eyebrow and pinned her with that glare of his.

“Caitlyn, you can’t keep living in the past. If you do, it will destroy the humanity left in you, and that’s not an option. You have the chance to help the helpless and seek vengeance for those who cannot do it for themselves. Come on, Caitlyn—we could really use your help.”

It took ten more years to bring the supernaturals into the open, but Caitlyn had shown up like Sarge had asked of her and been introduced to the werewolf, Derek Doyle, among others. It was Derek she related to most of all—the brooding wolf with as much darkness in his own eyes as she had in hers. They had become friends quickly and were now two of the most senior members of P.I.T.

Members had been slain over time, and others had joined but couldn’t handle the pressure. But herself and Derek, each with their own demons to overcome, managed to survive everything that was thrown at them. Their little team had been so successful in discreetly solving and capturing supernatural criminals they were asked to lecture at Garda stations all over Ireland.

It was during one of those times in another city that Caitlyn had found Donnie. Over the years, the former rugby player teased Caitlyn that she’d had to go all the way to Dublin to find a Cork man, considering they’d lived in the same city for almost a decade.

Though she had pledged never to inflict vampirism on another, seeing this handsome bulk of a man being beaten to death had made her act out of impulse. Something she had thought long broken inside of her had surged to the forefront, and in a rash move, Caitlyn had made him a vampire.

And yes, once he had awoken and remained by her side did Caitlyn begin to feel something for him. This man was funny, loyal, and helped her chase away her nightmares. He never asked much of her, and considering most men would not wait around for a woman for twenty years, that spoke of Donnie’s character.

Perhaps she’d been hard on Donnie, brushing him off when he tried so very hard to be patient with her. Caitlyn understood his frustrations. But every time she felt herself weakening and considered exploring this connection with Donnie, the warning set out by the monster who’d made her came into her thoughts and she retreated.

The door to the gymnasium swung open and Derek strode through, nodding as he spotted her and came to stand beside her, his tall frame a few inches above her own.

“How is Ricky? He appeared quite unwell this eve,” Caitlyn asked, enquiring after the quick-witted warlock who, despite being so opposite to her, had grown on her. She had become quite fond of Ricky, but she’d never tell him so.

“Erika took him home. Listen, any leads yet as to where Erika came from?” Because of the various connections she’d made over the years, Derek had included Caitlyn in his secret little mission to find out who—and most importantly, what—Erika Sands was. So far, Caitlyn had little luck in finding any evidence that the woman had existed prior to her brief stint with the Dublin office. It seemed Erika Sands was not who she claimed to be.

Caitlyn filled Derek in on what little information she had collected. She’d spoken to Erika’s commanding officer in Ballyfermot, and the man had told her Sands had an impeccable record but they’d had been surprised when she up and left with no real notice to join P.I.T.

“Her C.O. asked me why I was enquiring, and I merely said that I was doing a reference check-up as the previous HR representative had failed to fill in the details. When I questioned where Erika had been before Ballyfermot, the man stammered and spluttered as if he could not find the words, and then he complained of a headache.”

Derek leaned against the window and sighed. “Mind control? What kind of supe could use mind control?”

“Many creatures could control your mind,” Caitlyn retorted. “A strong vampire a few decades into death could, as could the fair folk. The list is far too long. Has it occurred to you that she may be involved in the mystery that surrounds your paramour?”

The growl that rumbled in her friend’s chest didn’t even startle her. Derek had voiced his concerns to Caitlyn about Ever’s origins, just as Ever had asked Caitlyn to locate her birth parents and then suddenly decided against it. Caitlyn would not betray either's trust, so she remained quiet.

“There is something going on with Ever, and I’m losing patience with her keeping me at arm’s length. Her fears are unfounded, especially if she is a supe herself.”

Caitlyn reached out and rested her hand on Derek’s shoulder. “We will get to the bottom of it, oui? There has yet to be a mystery we could not solve, mon loupe.”

Derek chuckled then. “Yeah, we pretty much have the same dogged stubbornness to find the truth. Go home, Caitlyn. Go get some rest, and I’ll call you if we get anything.”

“I could stay.”

“If I’m going to be your boss soon, you’re gonna have to start listening to me, Caitlyn.” The wolf smiled, but darkness had bled into his eyes.

Derek no more wanted to oversee P.I.T. than she did, but Derek was a born leader—a true alpha in every sense of the word. He would be just fine.

Caitlyn made no comment on the rumours circulating that Sarge had been offered, possibly ordered, to be the face around Ireland for establishing new paranormal investigation teams to lessen the burden on the current team. They would handle that once this case had been resolved.

Caitlyn bade Derek farewell and left him staring out at the stars. Making her way outside, she inhaled the night air, tasting the frost in the air before it quickly evaporated, her lungs no longer functional. Her heels clicked against the concrete as she hurried towards her car, the sound of her name being called as she reached the car hasting her movement.

“You heading home?”

Donnie had sensed when she’d left the station and would, of course, make sure she was alright before he continued with his duties.

“I am. Are you staying here for a while?”

Folding his arms across his chest, Donnie tilted his head and narrowed his gaze. “Yeah, I have one or two leads to follow up before I head out. I should get home just after sunrise.”

“Okay, I shall see you then.” Caitlyn turned around as she heard Donnie swear. A hand on her waist caused her to pause, and she turned back to face him.

He never spoke, never made a sound, but the look in his eyes told her exactly what was about to happen. Donnie crushed his lips to hers, pushing her back against the car so that she was trapped between the metal and his overwhelming mass, ensuring that she could not escape.

It was not a gentle kiss, but a claiming of sorts—a strong, bruising meeting of lips that told Caitlyn that Donnie was done waiting and intended to take what he considered his. He nipped her bottom lip, drawing blood, the copper taste mingling with Donnie’s own unique taste. He gave a little groan, and with a little more pressure on her lips, Caitlyn opened as Donnie tasted, sucked on, and devoured her mouth. And when Caitlyn felt her control slip, eager to succumb to the passion that this man excited from her, Donnie pulled back, finally allowing her space.

“I had to do that. I needed you to know what my intentions are, Cait. I don’t care who claims you are theirs; you are mine, and I plan to seduce you into agreeing with me. I’m the only man you need worry about, Caitlyn Hardi. Because I am yours—now, forever, and always.”

Donnie set out towards the station with a very satisfied grin on his face as Caitlyn tried to stop herself from trembling. She wasn’t certain of when her body had begun to shake or how she could calm herself down, but somehow, as if out of pure instinct, Caitlyn got into her car and drove home in a blur.

When she reached her compound, a sense of dread washed over her as she caught a faint scent on the air that drew a wave of memories into her mind. Parking her car, Caitlyn slipped inside the front door of her home, her impeccable sense of smell alerting her to the unknown threat within. This should have been impossible—the security Caitlyn had in place should have incapacitated any person who entered her home. But should she be surprised that he had managed his way around her defences?

“Melanie?” Caitlyn called out, her voice trembling slightly as she checked to ensure the little vampire had not come home before herself or Donnie.

When she sensed no part of Melanie in the house, Caitlyn cautiously made her way through to the kitchen. The entire house was bathed in darkness, even the faint glare of the moon not enough to illuminate the space. She had to use her heightened sight to manoeuvre through the home she had built.

In the kitchen, Caitlyn crouched down to pull out the bottom drawer on the kitchen island. It clanked to the floor, and she reached inside, plucked a stake out—a very special stake soaked in holy water and blessed by the Pope himself—and grasped it hard in her palm. Rising again, Caitlyn trekked the short distance to her bedroom, trying and failing to prevent the roll of nausea in the pit of her stomach as the scent she detested most in the world intensified the closer she got to her bedroom.

Hands trembling despite the special stake in her right hand, Caitlyn reached out and twisted the door handle. The bedroom door opened to reveal hundreds of blood red roses and an abundance of candles. She knew they were from him; he had come for her. The entire floor was covered in the disgusting flower, and petals had been strewn across the bed in a heart shape. Vases of bouquets sat atop her vanity, on her chest of drawers, and next to her bed—the side on which she slept.

The ensuite door was open, and Caitlyn’s eyes wandered inside, spotting more candles and a bathtub full of rose petals. From the steam rising from the water in the tub, Caitlyn knew it had been filled quite recently. And oh, did she know who had set out this display for her. His scent was everywhere. It made Caitlyn want to strike a match and set the whole house on fire, burning away any trace of him in her room, her home, and her life.

His scent was stronger by the bed, and Caitlyn ventured towards the side of her bed that normally lay empty, apart from the rare times she and Donnie watched movies while she recuperated from injuries.

Caitlyn knew he had lain on her bed, breathed in her scent and probably imagined them in bed together. He’d always had this delusion that Caitlyn could domesticate him, make him human once more. But the things that had forged his destiny as a vampire had been rooted inside him before his change. That rot could not be cut away.

Music cut through the silence, an old dance song called “L’Amour Toujours,” which meant ‘love always’ in her native tongue. Stomach clenched, she searched through the rose petals on the bed and rooted out a mobile phone. The music stopped for a brief moment before starting up again. After counting to ten, Caitlyn pressed the answer button but remained silent as she heard a voice on the other end.

“My rose.”

It had been almost two centuries since she had heard that voice—the voice of the vampire who had slain her family and turned her by force. Rage, so much rage, bubbled inside her, yet she chose to remain calm.

“Come, my rose, will you not even acknowledge me? I have dreamt of you every night since you abandoned me, cried out your name on the rare days I’ve been able to sleep. My first thought upon waking is you, as is my last before sleep. Oh, my love, I have missed you.”

“What do you want?” Caitlyn snarled in response.

“I want only what I have wanted since you made me fall in love with you, Caitlyn—for you to rule by my side like the queen you were born to be. I want to show you how much I care for you. Stop these silly games and come back to me. Maybe, after I have sated my body with yours, I will even allow that brute who tempts you from me to play with you… before I kill him.”

Caitlyn shuddered with disgust at the thought of having his hands on her body. Her timeline had just been pushed up. She had to be ready now. And she cursed herself for not having allowed herself to be with Donnie once before taking her maker to hell with her when she went.

“I will never willingly lay with you. I am not your love, nor am I your rose. I have a man who loves me, who ignites me with passion like no other—not even my Bass, whom you murdered. I will never love you, and I will drag you back to hell where you belong.”

He roared so loudly Caitlyn had to remove the phone from her ear. When the screaming subsided, Caitlyn listened as the root of all evil hissed down the phone at her.

“I will tear him limb from limb in front of you. I will make you watch as his body knits back together only for me to inflict more and more pain. I promise that by the time I am finished, my rose, you will beg me to take you back, and I will have you as much or as little as I want. You will thank me for it.”

Caitlyn laughed down the phone. “Non. I will rain vengeance down upon you like a plague, wiping you from existence and ridding the world of your cancer. I intend to take all those who worship you from you. I will spill blood on the streets of Paris, and the rain will wash away all the sins you have committed.”

“If I am to be killed, it is only right that the woman who brought me to my knees and made me find my heart again is the one to stake me.”

Saying nothing, Caitlyn moved around her room, gathering up some belongings. Tossing them on the bed with the stake, she searched for a bag to throw everything into when he spoke again.

“You look beautiful, my rose, illuminated by the candles and among the flowers that always remind me of you. I shall see you soon.”

The line went dead. Caitlyn threw the phone at the wall and rushed to the window. Faintly, against the dead of night, she could make out the silhouette of a man standing under a tree in the field behind her home. In the blink of an eye, it vanished.

Did he lack the courage to face her on her home turf? Did he need to have all his cult followers around to ensure his success? Caitlyn did not care. His reign would end, and she would be the one to take away his crown.

When she had collected herself enough and managed to pack some necessary items into a gear bag, Caitlyn slowed only to write one of the most painful letters she’d ever had to write. Once finished, Caitlyn pressed her fingers to her lips, closed her eyes, and imagined she had the right to love Donnie the way she wished she could.

Sometimes, what is broken cannot be fixed, and like a shattered teacup glued back together, Caitlyn would always have that crack, that gap where the water would always seep through. The teacup could never be whole again, and perhaps, neither could she.

Steeling her resolve, Caitlyn propped the letter on the breakfast island and marched out of the home she loved for possibly the last time. She left all that she cared for behind in her single-minded pursuit of vengeance.

And Caitlyn would paint Paris crimson to complete her task.