Hello there! It’s
been a while since I posted, but don’t worry, I come with presents. This week I’m
back with the second installment of Whispers in Silence, a playlist, and on
Friday I have more Mage coming at you. I
hope Thanksgiving was good for those of you who celebrated. For those of you who didn’t partake, I hope
your week was just as great. Hugs from
Siberia aka Michigan,
~Night Tempest
P.S. Enjoy…
Whispers
in Silence Part 2 Playlist
Everything
In Its Right Place – Radiohead
Shadowplay
– The Killers
Flick
of the Finger – Beady Eye
Afraid
– The Neighbourhood
Whispers In Silence: Part 2
Adrian observed the gala room once everyone began to
settle into their seats for the main event.
Positioned at the front of the room, it was hard for Adrian not to draw
attention as the graduation attendees were mainly facing forward. They didn’t seem too put off by his steady
scan of the crowd; in fact they wanted to be noticed. Jewels glittered, pieces worth more than his
life studded ears and were draped around slender necks. Tailored suits and one of a kind dresses—silk
and velvet, Chantilly lace and wool, mink fur and Taffeta—gift wrapped their
owners, vampires luscious as truffles with the promise of a deliciously sweet
center.
Their race’s dignitaries, the oldest Royals who
continued to donate funds to the Guard program, and the Queen’s chosen ones all
gathered in one place to honor the Guard graduates this evening. That was what it said in the program anyway. Of what Adrian could see, this was only one of
many social gathering that allowed the purebreds to rub elbows, to hem and haw
over who was richer, to secretly place ranks and turn noses up at each
other. The scary thing about being on
the outside of their vanity: Adrian could have been like them had his parents
quit Hunting once he was born. Thank the
universe they didn’t.
The Hunter didn’t know that spoiled existence,
couldn’t quite dream about it either with his past the driving force behind his
heartbeat. He was who he was and no one
would change that. The thought of
honoring his parents, his parents who were no longer with him, by walking
across that stage tonight in silence was a huge step. One he didn’t care to admit. They were with him always. And in this small badge of honor he would
receive tonight, it felt like they’d never reneged on that promise. Like Carson, everyone needed a happy thought
for a rough patch.
Adrian smiled to himself. Outwardly his face never
betrayed his cool exterior. His small
sentimental comfort eased his body, made him turn back to the stage with its
pressed and pleated red ruffle, and the wooden podium carved with the Queen’s
insignia and mounted microphone. With
four Guardians, the Original and his mate, plus King Valjana and the Latin one
who didn’t have a name. One he gave
away, that was.
But staring down at Adrian was the one person who
took his comfort away, the male who made his pain corporeal by owning the same
eyes and lips, and the same funny tilt of his head as Davide once had. It wasn’t on purpose, Sutton’s mimicking presence. Adrian knew it, although, he wished it
true. Then he could blame Sutton for the
anger, the stark fear that punched him every time he saw his Uncle. Shaking Sutton’s hand would be hard. Not picturing Davide in his brother’s place,
wearing a prideful smile at his son’s accomplishments would be even harder.
Adrian shut it down, his personal mourning
hour. He straightened, hid his pale blue
eyes and deadly expression under the visor of his hat, and put his hands on his
knees like the other good little soldiers.
Two seats down Adrian felt rather than saw Carson watching him. Carson had tried to come after him upon
reading the card from his dead brother.
Had Adrian received such a message, he’d want to know what the hell was
up too. But he hadn’t. The real Toby had
been enough. And Adrian didn’t much care to divulge such information to
Carson. He already had enough on his
plate. He wasn’t trying to make a buffet
of it.
A string quartet played in the corner. Adrian didn’t hear it. Though, with a subtle slide of his eyes
towards the musicians, he longed to know what they were playing, what sounds
were made when the woman’s bow swept across the violin’s tightly wound
strings. What music they had chosen to
accompany this moment. His longing
grew. A lurch in his chest and a knee knocking
against his reined him back in from the edge.
The guy beside him, Forest something or other, was staring up at the
speaker. Adrian followed suit, only to find Sutton gripping the podium, gazing
right back at him.
Sutton drew in a deep breath, his eyes locked with
Adrian’s. Something akin to sorrow swam
through his Uncle’s eyes. And with an evidently
heavy heart, Sutton nodded at a woman over his shoulder. Adrian frowned as she stood. He knew everyone on the stage, not
personally, but the woman was misplaced up there with the VIPs. He’d never seen her, didn’t recognize her as
a distinguished guest and hadn’t taken note of her presence until this very
moment; although, suddenly, her attendance was of the utmost importance. She captured every eye in the room.
With revulsion, Adrian watched Sutton begin to speak
again. It wasn’t what Sutton said that
left Adrian breathless. With every word Sutton
mouthed, the woman next to him began to move her hands. She was signing, signing for him.
Rage curled Adrian’s fingers around the sides of his chair, keeping him
tethered to the only tangible thing he had left while his world dropped out
from underneath him. If that female was
up there signing, it meant only one thing.
His Queen had betrayed him. She had taken away all he had worked
for. She banned him as a Hunter. Left him to wither in this world he’d never
been a part of, the world she had created but would deny him any kind of life
in. Nina Gerard, Ruler of the Vampires, her crowned majesty The Blood Queen had
forsaken his name and all he’d done to out him and his inability to hear to his
kind in public. There was no going back
now.
He couldn’t cry if he wanted to. His eyes were glued to the insignia engraved
into the wooden podium. A symbol he’d
revered as her mark of righteousness.
Now the blades crossed over one another, a representation of loyalty and
commitment stabbed him in the heart. He
didn’t know the difference between life and death any longer. He already felt dead. He couldn’t get any deader because life
wasn’t worth living past this point.
Breathing wasn’t worth the effort.
Shock. He was
in total and complete shock. She was
going to leave him to this commonplace existence, a beat cop, a detective doing
routine lab tracking and whacking of lower level criminals. She didn’t even have the nerve to tell him to
his face. Instead she showed her shallow
race his weaknesses, made him the main attraction of her three ring
circus. She had cornered him without
being present, left him nowhere else to go except to face the aftermath of her
trickery alone.
Adrian was going to throw his heart up. He tried to swallow but it wasn’t
happening. He felt the air striving to push
up his throat, stopping short in refusal with tiny huffs of nothing. His body numb and his mouth hanging open,
Adrian rose to his feet in the middle of the gala room. He stared at his Uncle, seeking understanding
for which there was none. Sutton moved
quickly to the side of the podium. The concern
in his dark eyes flashed like he gave a care.
Who wouldn’t be concerned, even from an outside
point of view? A graduate had
interrupted an important rite of passage, interrupted the Captain of the
Bureau, and won the focus of every warrior on stage. Adrian twisted around, viewing the
crowd. He stood there like a fool, the
first time in his life he didn’t have a plan or an escape, in front of a
hundred or so Royals who gawked at him.
He was a caged animal, a freak who should’ve charged
admission. He’d been duped by the only two people he had left to trust. His Uncle had known of this little scheme. That much was apparent. The Queen had planned this. And the rest were left to kick back and be
entertained by the madness. A person of
any rank up there on stage, signing to a crowd of vampires was as rare as a pig
with wings. It didn’t happen. Ever.
Until now.
Pivoting away from their wide eyes, Adrian turned to
find his Uncle right there, a foot away.
Sutton reached for him. Adrian
slapped his hand. To anyone else it
would have meant a life sentence. To
Adrian his boundaries had been overstepped and he had to get it out. Short of killing his Uncle right then and
there, the slap was nothing compared to what he wanted to do.
Sutton closed his eyes for a second. His hand slipped away to stop at his
side. When he opened his eyes there was
nothing but regret, nothing there Adrian could use to make his anger
subside. The Guardians were perched at
the edge of the stage now. The Original
slid down to the floor slowly. His
movements hushed to Adrian’s ears and languid like a thoroughly trained
killer. Silvery eyes measured Adrian up
and down as if to see if Adrian was such a threat that he needed to intervene.
If
you only knew. But you never will. They’ve killed me.
Adrian shook his head, wanting nothing more than to
chuck his hat into the Guardian’s face and stalk off and die quietly in a
corner. But the Original of the Guardian
bloodline relaxed his stance. He looked
from the woman on stage and back to Adrian with a shake of his head. As if he too didn’t get it. As if he could possibly relate to Adrian’s
frustration, his pain. He said something
into Sutton’s ear and Sutton nodded with his eyes still trained on Adrian.
The Original’s silver eyes swirled at Adrian
then. Not probing or stern; more
impressed than anything. He extended a
hand to Adrian, expecting him to take it.
Adrian stared at the hand for a long while, wondering if it was a
trap. He’d heard of the Guardian’s
capabilities, their talent for viewing things of old with a touch or by seeing
something that tapped into the memory of their ancestors. They had vast knowledge of the world, of
their people, and the skills of thousands of men and women before them. It was why they led in the fight against the
enemy. It was who they were made to be.
In the face of such an imposing figure, Adrian still
had strength. Where it came from, he
didn’t know. But he met the Original’s
hand with his own, palms sliding together until he was able to feel the
Guardian’s power wrap around his fingers with a squeeze. It was a moment few would know, to be
acknowledged not for status, but because a male of worth sensed another male of
worth. Adrian was confused over how he
knew that was what the Original’s gesture meant, although he did.
Cadence Hightower, the Original warrior who had
extended his bloodline by invitation only to the men on stage, was shaking his
hand and smiling warmly. Their
connection didn’t mend the gaping hole in Adrian’s heart. It was a start, though. A start Adrian chose to keep neutral while he
edged toward a breakdown. He refused to look at Sutton. No longer his Uncle if Adrian had any opinion
in the matter. Sutton was dead to him,
as dead as his father and mother. No
family, even as distant as he kept them, would betray him this way.
Adrian let go of the Original’s hand. His eyes strayed to Carson Maloy, the only
one in the room at the moment who bore a kindred pain during this
ceremony. They both had fallen. While Carson kept his pain hidden behind a
stoic mask, Adrian’s was ripped wide open for all to see. It was karma.
Karma for all the things Adrian had done in his life. But he didn’t regret what he’d done in the
name of good for Carson Maloy. In fact,
he still wished him well and would take Carson’s secret abuse to his
grave. Unlike his Uncle, Adrian would
never expose such a thing for the sake of his queen.
Carson swallowed, hard. He put his hands on his knees and pushed up
to stand. Without fear of repercussion
in the presence of the Guardians, or the crowd that no doubt already whispered
the Maloy name with scandal, Carson put his fist to his chest and stood tall
before his race. Within the span of
seconds, with the addition of Carson’s bold look of pride and singling himself
out for ridicule among his peers and fellow vampires, Adrian knew Carson
knew. Knew where the note had come
from. Knew where his pain had fled to
and who had taken it away. Carson knew
what Adrian had done for him—even if the note confused him, even if he didn’t
know all the details. In Carson’s eyes it
could have been no one else.
And he was grateful—so grateful he would stand up
for Adrian when Adrian felt like he had no legs left to stand on. Adrian was shocked to the core as the others
in his class rose to their feet and saluted him with their fists over their
chests. A line of debonair soldiers in
their formal attire, recognizing his worth in the face of adversity nearly
brought Adrian to his knees. But he
neither cried nor sank like a child to the floor.
Overcome and unashamed, Adrian saluted them
back. His peers continued to stand for
him when the Original beckoned his presence towards the stairs going up to the
stage. Adrian coldly passed Sutton,
incapable of looking at the traitor who had once been his family. He briskly walked up the stairs, picturing
the crowd invisible in order to retain his confidence; all of them invisible
except for the strength in the form of his classmates who still stood for him.
The power on stage was stifling. Four Guardians put their fists over their
hearts for the span of a heartbeat and dropped their hands to their sides. Adrian was issued forth to stand next to
Cadence Hightower. He looked at the
table where their futures awaited, their service weapons, their badges, their
orders sealed in black envelopes. Adrian
was made to look up at the Original, who was a picture of all he had aspired to
be once upon a time, a caped crusader in the name of all that was right.
Next to the Original was the woman from before, the
sign language aid who appeared scared out of her mind. She sheepishly lifted her head and bit her
lip as Cadence began to speak. Her hands
moved, fingers whispering through the air with a delicate grace to relay the
Guardian’s message of gratitude and pride.
“In
the name of her majesty, the Blood Queen, in the name of our race and in the
name of the blood that fuels your body from this night forward you shall fight
to protect mortal innocence, and the eternal life that birthed you. With this oath you become my brother, a
warrior with my eyes and ears and hold a place in my heart for your
sacrifice. By serving your race and
upholding the law to stand in the face of the enemy, by spilling your blood in
my name and the name of my queen, you will be the beat of our hearts and the
air we breathe. So say you my brother,
will you take this oath with me? Will
you stand at my side until you can stand no more and even after?”
Adrian’s heart battered against his ribs, pumping
precious blood through his body a mile a minute. His ears grew hot and his eyes glittered. He couldn’t explain the way he felt, so
deeply moved by the power of the Original sheltering him as if they were the
only two in the room. He was not brought
up to understand this. He had no words
to describe this feeling, and his mind could not comprehend what to do. He wanted to run, to scream his pain. He wanted to attack the Guardian and die
quickly by his hands. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t move or speak.
Cadence’s eyes swirled with understanding,
intensity, and an expression Adrian could only call affection. In that moment Adrian felt like someone’s
brother. He felt wanted and needed after
being a solo act for so very long. Maybe
it was a rehearsed gig for the Guardian, but he didn’t think so. It was all too real in Adrian’s heart, an
organ he’d previously thought only for the purpose of existing. This oath, this connection, this rightness
that urged him to accept—it seemed his heart had another purpose after all.
Adrian had been so angry minutes ago. He still was.
But this wasn’t about the queen and Sutton or their betrayal. This was something different, something the
Guardian had pulled out of him with a single look. Fate.
A link that told Adrian this was meant to be, that something waited for
him if he said yes, an opportunity he couldn’t refuse even if he’d had other
plans for after this ceremony. With the
entire room watching him, with his support in the form of his classmates at
full attention below, Adrian said, “Yes.”
When he became aware of surroundings again, Adrian
fought not to choke. Not only was the
Original putting his red sash around Adrian’s shoulders, but other figures now
stood on the stage. Men and women no one
else could see. Unlike his other
encounters with the dead, Adrian didn’t feel cold or scared. He felt gifted
with their presence. As the sash settled
into place and Cadence was looking at him oddly, Adrian continued to stare at
the hundreds of silent figures around the stage.
Their appearance spanned the length of time, dressed
and decorated in many different periods of the world’s history, some old and
some fairly recent. But without a doubt
Adrian knew who had come to see him walk across this stage, those had come to
be his support. The Guardians. All of them.
And standing behind Cadence was a man dressed in his service blacks just
like Adrian. Toby held his fist to his
heart and beamed. No blood. No carnage.
He looked just as he was meant to all along. Happy.
His business here was done, but his heart would always linger. Adrian had never seen or felt a spirit this
way.
And in a blink, Toby was down amongst the other
graduates, where he stepped through Carson’s body and disappeared. The Guardian spirits slowly faded out,
leaving behind warmth that had nothing to do with heat and everything to do
with their approval in Adrian. He would
never be a Guardian; that was physically impossible. But he could follow in their footsteps, a different
path from that of a Hunter, a path more settled and treaded upon. Adrian could still fight the good fight in
other ways while he resisted the idea of giving up who he thought he was meant
to be. Maybe this was a test, a test to
see if he could acclimate to this life before he was given back his old
identity.
Dazed, Adrian looked back to Cadence for reassurance
that he wasn’t losing his mind. Once the
Guardian saw that Adrian was still with him, he squeezed Adrian’s hand and
smiled. He led him to a table where
Sutton was supposed to bequeath his Guards with the tools of their trade. Adrian was lucky enough not to go through
that, instead allowing a real Guardian to give him what he needed. He was handed his stack, his badge a glossy
gold, his service weapon in its case, and a black envelope.
Cadence steered him towards the crowd that stood and
applauded for him. A deaf killer with
hardly enough mind to grasp what had just happened. Amidst the silent yet ferocious show of
appreciation from hands that wouldn’t quit clapping, Adrian looked up toward to
balcony jutting out over the gala room.
He caught a peek of blond curls and a slice of creamy skin against a
backless, black satin gown, before his queen walked into the dark hallway above
and vanished. She had come to see him,
and only him.
He didn’t know how to feel about that.
Chapter 5
Constance should have been named She Who Tests Thy
Patience. Wesley shut Constance’s office
door with a soft snick, when he really wanted to slam it so hard the glass pane
shattered. At least he would never have
to go into that office again. And if
Sutton demanded it, Wes would slap him with his resignation. Nothing was worth another five minutes in
that glittery death pen with Constance and her sordid outlets for sexual
harassment. Wes took his sign language
book and shoved it into his leather messenger bag just as Junior Guard Feist was
coming down the hall.
Not
now. He’ll never let me live this down.
“Did you just come out of...,” Feist sputtered a
laugh. He wiped away a stray dribble of
coffee from his chin. “They must have
started putting Molly in the coffee because I’m seeing things, Durren.”
Wes’s jaw ticked.
“Just following orders.”
“Not really your style.” Feist leaned against the wall a few feet
away. He scratched his newly shorn dark
hair and grinned. Hazel eyes lighting up like a little kid at Christmas. “Word is you got reprimanded last week for that bust. I told them to choke on a dick and shut it. No way was that shit your fault. That kid you had with you can barely wipe his
ass let alone take down a dealer.”
Wes snorted. “I’m
touched.” Walk away, Fiest. Don’t test me
right now. Not a good time.
Feist rubbed his face, a smile masked as a sniff
against his palm before he pushed off the wall.
“Whatever. I was tryin’ to be
nice, but if you want the chatterbox brigade to keep it up I’ve got the gossip
now to keep them fed.”
“Say one word and I’ll throw you to the ferals.”
With a tsk, Feist waved Wes off. “Been boxing with em all night, Durren. Ain’t nothing new to me. But just because I’m a nice guy, I’ll hold
off on telling ‘em you were boffing the glitter doctor with your glue stick.”
“I was not sticking it to… No way, asshole.”
“So, not in the ass, huh?” Feist almost spit his sip of coffee
everywhere. “Didn’t wanna dip your dick
in another dimension?”
Wesley yanked his bag from his around his shoulders
and let it fall to the ground. “I’m not
fucking around, Feist.”
“Jesus. I had
no idea you and Constantly Crazy Constance were so serious. Chill out, bro, your secret is safe with me.” Fiest sniggered.
Wesley shook from head to toe. Pounding Feist sounded like a great
idea. Wes’s fists were up to it, they
were already to attention at his sides.
He was tired of navigating headquarters like a ghost in the night so
none of the others saw what he was here for on his week off, or rather who he
was here to see. He was literally drained
and hungry. That bagel this morning hadn’t done a thing
for his growling stomach. Add in a little
shit like Feist and Wes was ready to let it all out.
The Junior Detective put his hands up, one wrapped
around his crappy break room coffee. His
brows lifted and his crazy greenish brown eyes went wide. “Look, I was just messin’ around,
Durren. The last thing I’d ever want is
for my body parts to end up in a wooden box on their way to Siberia for running
my mouth. Whatever you got doin’ in that
office, I don’t give a fuck. Seriously, I
don’t want to know. I never saw you, was
just moseying on by with my coffee.
Cool?”
The fight zapped out of Wesley quick. He sighed through his nostrils and shook his
head. “Sign language, she knows it.
Okay? Donohue wanted me to learn. Don’t
have any clue why, but if it gets me out of this unrequested vacation, I’ll do
it.” Wes bent to retrieve the book that had fallen out of his bag. He stood up, showing it Feist.
Feist did a double take of the book. He swallowed like he had something to say but
didn’t want to. He flicked his interest
up to Wes. “Oh. Yeah.
No worries then.”
The
hell was that? Feist doesn’t back down.
He’s more curious than a cat, and a pain in my ass.
“What?”
“N-nothing. I
gotta jet. Picking up the paperwork
slack today, you know?”
Wes growled.
“The fuck, Feist? You come down
here running your mouth like the class clown and now you shut the fuck up over
a damn book? It’s not some witch’s grimoire.
It’s—”
“I know what it is.”
Feist licked his lips and then bit the inside of his cheek. “You heard from the Cap recently?”
“Sent me a text yesterday, said he would be home
tonight. Why?” Wes raised a brow.
“That’s all he said?”
“You know something I don’t?”
Feist checked the hallway at both ends before he
leaned in. “You seriously ain’t heard
shit about the graduation service? What
went down?”
“No. Should I
have?” Wes scowled and then he dropped
it. His eyes softened. “Everyone okay?”
“Physically, they’re fine. Maybe mentally blown out of the water,
though.” Feist shook his head and took a
sip of his coffee. “Some best friend Cap
is. He’s got you in the dark,
Durren. That ain’t a coincidence.” Feist pointed to the sign language book. “Davis and Fortine volunteered for the exam,
you know the senior final? Flew out a
week before Cap did.”
Wes nodded.
He remembered volunteering at the academy overseas once about six years
ago. Let a kid flip him over the circle
because he felt bad and knew the guy wouldn’t pass otherwise. He’d heard the
kid had matured a bit, even landed a spot in rotation at the Queen’s compound.
“What of it?”
“Davis called me the night of the final, said there
was this kid that tore it up on the mat, damn near Guardian style. He couldn’t believe it. Said he was
almost relived he didn’t have to face off with the kid, and get this, that
senior… he’s a pre-turn.”
Yeah,
right. David’s been hittin the
booze. A pre-turn ranking up there with
a Guardian? Bullshit.
“Cut it out, Feist.
Now you’re just pissing me off.
What’s that got to do with the book or Sutt?”
Feist grinned.
“This is where it gets crazy.
Baby Bruce Lee is deaf.”
Wes lost it then.
He pushed Feist back with both hands.
“Fuck you, Feist. I’m out of
here. Keep your mouth shut if you know
what’s good for you. A deaf pre-turn?
Thanks for the laugh.”
“It wasn’t a joke.”
The Junior Detective twisted around to block Wesley’s path. “Hey!”
“Knock it off.
Get out of my way. You’ve had
your fun, Feist. Now if you’ll excuse
me…” Wesley growled, his fangs twitching
to drop in his mouth.
Feist wrapped his hand around Wes’s forearm and
tugged. His coffee sloshed in his other
hand. “I’m serious, Durren.” And by the look on Feist’s face, he was. “I’m telling you this because it ain’t some
weird fluke Sutt’s got you down here learning to sign with the Triple C. Shit went down after the final, Durren. That kid… David got mind to run his ID number
through the database because no pre-turn knows how to move like that. Turns out he’s Sutt’s nephew. After that… he doesn’t exist. A deaf pre-turn who happens to be the Cap’s
long lost nephew, and he doesn’t
exist. No birth records. No lineage
other than Sutton. The Queen signed off
on his academy credentials personally. Ringin’ the old alarm, Durren?”
Wes’s scowl fell away. Donohue had a nephew? In all the long years they’d been best
friends Sutton had never spoken of the kid.
He’d never even hinted. Some part
of Wes was betrayed and pissed off.
Another part of him was intrigued.
A deaf pre-turn who could knock a Guard on his ass without catching a
sweat? No. He shook his head. No fucking way was Wes buying any of
this. Feist and his coffee talk buddies
were full of crap, pulling one over on him.
Sutt would never hide
something like this from him. Their race could never hide something like—a deaf
pre-turn! No. Just no.
Then
what’s with the sign language? Why the
sudden secrecy surrounding Sutt’s trip?
Why didn’t he ask you to go with him like he always does? Because you would say no, just like every
other time.
“I’ve got shit to do. Don’t go spreading this around or Sutt will
have your head.”
Feist let Wes go.
He carefully balanced his coffee while he gave Wesley a deadpan stare. “His
name is Adrian. He stood up in the
middle of graduation, interrupted Sutt like he was gonna tear his head off, and
then Cadence Hightower inducted him into the Bureau like he would the fucking
Queen of England. Made Sutt stand there looking a fool in front of a hundred
plus dignitaries, Durren.”
“Liar,” Wes spat.
Feist huffed.
“Hightower gave him his Guardian
sash before Adrian even had his service weapon in hand, like he was better than
the rest, like he was one of them. He’s obviously cozy with the Guardians. Got no punishment for interrupting a formal
service under the queen, or for humiliating Cap. Gets a standing salute from his entire class
for it. And no one knows who the fuck he
is beyond the deaf judo wonder boy who knocked a Royal on his ass, without pity
help from one of us. Fought a Royal turn
student to get the green light, a newly turned, strong as hell vampire. You got shit to do? I hope it involves finding out who your new
partner is gonna be. Because no one else
but you is learning sign language here.”
Feist flicked the sign language book and walked off. “See ya round, Durren,” he called.
“Go to hell, asshole!” Wesley panted, just staring at Feist’s
retreating back. Wes pulled his phone
out of his back pocket like pulling his service weapon. He hit speed dial and put the phone to his
ear. His eyes chock full of malice at
the empty hallway. His call was answered
on the second ring. “You—”
“I’m glad you called. I was about to call you.”
“Sutton, you—”
“No time, old friend. I’ve sent our flight information to your
email.”
“We?”
“Were on schedule for a five pm arrival and I need
you to check on some things before the car comes to get you. You’re still at headquarters, correct?”
“Yes, but—car?”
“A courier will be arriving shortly with an envelope
for me. You have the clearance to sign
for it—I’ve made certain he knows this.
Put it in the locked file cabinet, you know where it is. And I need you to push Feist’s and Jones’s
reports through regarding last week’s bust.
Yuri is waiting for it, so he can send it to Cadence. The Guardians are taking the follow up, so
please make sure everyone is well aware this won’t be a larger op. I know
you’re upset with me and your inexperienced partner on that account. But please know it wasn’t personal. And I know Feist had his sights set on a task
force, but—”
“Dammit, Sutt!
Shut up for a second.”
“Wesley, I don’t have time for whatever this is
right now,” he clipped. “Get the
envelope, store it, and then push that report through. I want it signed, sealed, and sent off with a
courier before three. At three thirty a
driver will be waiting for you outside headquarters to take you to LaGuardia.”
“LaGuardia?!”
Wes’s blood pressure skyrocketed.
“The fuck am I doing there?”
“Picking us up.
I-I need you there when we arrive.
Trust me.” Sutton inhaled
sharply. Wesley felt his friend’s exhaustion
in that one breath. Something was wrong;
Sutton was never flustered, and his calls for help were far and few between.
“Trust you?”
Wes asked softly. “I thought I did.” He looked down at the sign language book.
“Whatever that
is supposed to mean, you can explain to me at five. I’ve got to go.”
Wesley stared at his phone, a beep still ringing in
his ears after Sutton hung up on him. He
gathered his things in a huff, well and thoroughly pissed off now. In the span of their friendship Sutton had
never lied to him. Not once. Wesley had fought by his side, knowing all
the details before he took his next step because he trusted his friend’s
instincts, trusted the bond they shared.
He’d had Sutt’s back and Sutt had his.
They laughed together. They
shared memories together. They’d grieved
the loss of Sutton’s eldest child together over whisky and tears.
Wesley had stood up for Sutton at a Romanichal
wedding to his Gypsy bride mate, Vertina.
He was Quin’s godfather and the one that taught Ricky how to crawl. He’d turned down Yuri’s offer of the
Captain’s position because he knew Sutton was better for the job, the more
levelheaded out of the two of them.
And with one phone call, Wesley suddenly believed
every word out of Feist’s mouth. Sutton
had lied to him—betrayed him even. The
rift caused by the dial tone would not be easily repaired if there was no
further explanation on Sutton’s end. But
in the meantime, Wesley marched upstairs to conduct business on Sutt’s
behalf. It was all he could do to not go
on a killing spree that would stop him from getting the answers he needed.
If Sutton Donohue, his most treasured friend in the
entire world was going to lie to him. He
had better have a damn good reason why.
***
All afternoon Wesley had been the bearer of bad
news, the punching bag for the detectives’ complaints regarding the loss of
their precious case, and all while he was irritated and barely caffeinated. Did no one understand he had been left out in the cold with this case too, more than
anyone? Being stuck with a baby
detective and his service weapon when Wes had worked so hard to nab the dealer
in the first place…
A mass of rage dwelled belly deep and continued to
spread throughout his body until he was one word away from snapping someone’s
head off. His ex-partner, a relationship that had lasted all of twenty-four
hours, followed Jones to the conference room under Wesley’s enraged stare. Like a young boy hiding behind his father’s
legs, Wes’s short lived partner almost squeaked upon seeing Wes’s face, and
then disappeared around Jones’s larger body.
Yeah. Run, you little bastard. Go hide behind a real man because you’ll never
be one.
Wesley shut his laptop, careful not to slam it, and
checked his phone. Everything was done,
everything that mattered at the moment. He
slipped on his trench coat and left his desk as it was to start for the
hallway. He ignored the whispering as he
passed his coworkers. Snubbed their overly
curious looks he’d collected all day, and walked by Feist’s cubicle. Plastic crunched under his boots. Wesley looked down to see tiny lettered keys
littering the floor, keys Feist was prying off of his laptop and throwing over
his shoulder. Next thing he knew a
Hostess wrapper came flying at Wesley’s face and he ducked.
Fucking
psycho. I don’t have time for this
shit. Whatever floats your boat, Feist.
Feist had holed up in his cubicle with a thermos of
coffee and a box of snack cakes for the majority of the day, livid over losing
his chance at being the head of a task force. His stapler could be heard
slamming against the wall throughout the entire building. And the keys of his keyboard continued to be sacrificed
across the tile floor between the cubicles.
It would’ve been Feist’s first big break. Wesley almost sympathized. Almost.
Had it not been for his beef with Sutt, Wes would’ve
done the right thing by Feist and rallied for a task force. It wasn’t uncommon for the Guardians to take
over once a major case racked up enough substantial evidence to lead the Bureau
to the enemies’ latest Rush bakery. And
it was standard for the Bureau to be mostly back up to the Guardians when
taking down a lab, but damn if the Guards didn’t want a little of the glory too. They’d done all the work. Was it so terrible to ask for the glory once
in a while?
Preoccupied with his own stuff, Wesley left the pit
of detectives in Jones’s capable hands to go pick up Sutt at LaGuardia. He would’ve left Feist in charge, as he was
in line for a promotion soon, but Feist was as icy as a frostbitten popsicle at
the moment. Until the Junior Detective
without a partner and a major attitude calmed down, he wasn’t going to be
useful to any of them, so Jones it was.
And Jones already had the RLCU—the Rush Lab Case Unit—working off of another
dealer nibble in the conference room. With
the report sent out to Yuri, Wesley swiped his badge at the front desk, granted
access to the secure entrance alcove that fed to the service alley off of
Madison Avenue.
The Bureau posed as an ultra-private security firm
to the humans. Their busy area of
Manhattan cloaked them under the shade of large corporate buildings and crowds
of frantic businessmen and women, along with Central Park’s overflow of everyday
joggers, walkers, and vendors. Wesley
melted into the wave of bodies, weaving through them to get to the only car
parked at the curb.
He stopped short, almost whistled at the beauty set
atop four wheels. He even took a second
to admire the sexy driver leaning against the black Rolls Royce Phantom. A little James Bond, a lot foreign and
completely vintage with the silver Spirit of Ecstasy ornament mounted on the
unmistakable Phantom chrome grille, Wesley was in love at first sight with the
automobile. The chauffeur came in at a
close second, although, he seemed a little young to be driving around Bureau
honchos all day, and a little too young for Wesley’s tastes—nothing but a
stunning pre-turn, might as well still have a pacifier in his mouth. Maybe twenty if Wesley was being generous,
the driver straightened away from the car and nodded his head. “Sir.”
As formal as the car was, in a black suit and a
leather cap the chauffeur made up for his young age with his equally slick
professionalism. He moved with a quick
grace, opening the rear door with a touch of his key fob. A silent hydraulic motor opened the
rear-hinged coach door to Wesley’s amazement.
Wherever Sutt had been hiding this baby, it had definitely not been in
the motor pool. The Phantom was a
lollipop Wesley wanted to lick forever.
But he stilled and quirked a brow at the chauffeur, concealing his
excitement.
“You must be new. Haven’t seen you yet.” Wesley slid his aviators onto his nose and
finished buttoning up his trench coat to fend off the chilly November air. “It happens to be safety protocol to ask for
my ID before you let me into a Bureau vehicle.
I could be an enemy for all you know, and you could be delivering the
Captain to me on a silver platter.”
The driver didn’t flinch or fluster easily. He whipped his phone out of his blazer pocket
and smiled. “Senior Detective Wesley
Durren.” He turned the phone around to
show Wesley his own picture. “The
Captain sent it to me this morning, along with all of your credentials, although,
if you wish for me to go through standard procedure I can do that too.”
Wesley lowered his shades, showcasing his charcoal
eyes. “You’re a smartass, and I’m not in
the mood for that.” His mouth hurt from
holding back a smile.
The young man’s blue eyes darted around. He shoved the phone back into his breast
pocket, his strict composure cracking under pressure. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again, sir. The Captain just told me…”
“I’m messing with you, kid.” Wesley winked before shoving his sunglasses
back into place. “I don’t like
drama. I do, however, enjoy razzing
newbs, which is why I’m now in the bitch seat going to LaGuardia. It’s like timeout in style.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. You seem to know more about all of this than
I do anyway. I’m just the Senior
Detective kissing ass here. And you’re
the brand new driver carrying around my picture and sweet nothings from the
boss. Ain’t it wonderful?”
The driver tried not to smirk. “I’m guessing not really.”
“You guessed right. Name?”
“Um…”
Wesley shook his head and stepped off the curb,
already soaking up the heavy scent of leather drifting out of the Phantom’s
open doors. “What a bunch of dicks. I’m the first one to ask you that. Aren’t I?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, unless you want to be called The Driver… Could catch on, kind of like The Doctor. But you’re probably too young to remember the
beauty of the Time Lord. And this baby is
somethin’ else, but it ain’t no time machine.”
Wesley slid into the luxury car’s backseat. He had plenty of room for his long legs and
then some, and his head didn’t hit the ceiling.
Maybe being in the bitch seat
ain’t so bad after all. He smiled, still
waiting for an answer.
“Time Lord?”
The driver looked to the side in thought and cocked his head. “I have no idea what that means. But I’m Fletcher, sir. And I hope you don’t mind, but I sort of
mentioned your name to a friend this morning—”
Wesley growled.
Seriously, kid? Terrible form, not good at all. “What part of security protocol do you not understand? You don’t talk about Bureau employees to just
anyone. You don’t leak shit like
that. Everyone is suspect these days,
that’s just common sense” he raised his voice.
Fletcher waved his hands in front of him. “It wasn’t like that! Arnie has this creepy
knack for filling in the blanks.”
At the mention of Arnie, Wes smiled, making the
kid’s eyes bug like he was in for it.
Arnie was an old friend, a retired Bureau profiler who’d recently been
promoted to Manager of the Village. He ended
up leaving the Bureau to build a bunch of condos for the less fortunate, and to
change things for the next generation. One
too many bloody crime scenes up close and personal, even for a vampire, could
do a number on a man. Two hundred years
and going strong, Arnie had hung up his hat for a simpler life, managing a
small territory in the city. Wesley
couldn’t blame him for settling down.
Then again he couldn’t imagine sitting around twiddling his thumbs for
the rest of his existence. Wes thrived
on action, not paperwork.
Fletcher was right, though, in saying Arnie had the
innate ability to read between the lines.
Mentioning the Cap had probably got the cogs turning, and where Sutton
was, Wesley wasn’t far behind. And where
Arnie was, there was a hell of lot of trust backing him up. He was good people to Wesley.
“How is old Mutton Chops doin’?”
“Oh thank God.
He said you were friends…” Fletcher
put a hand over his chest. “I’m sorry,
sir. He just wanted me to tell you hello
for him. That he, uh, misses you. Not in those exact words, but I’m not really
going to repeat what he said.” His
cheeks flushed.
Wesley chuckled.
“No worries, Arnie can make the best of us blush. He has many
talents.”
Fletcher frowned, ducked his head and shut the doors
on Wesley. Leaving the Senior Detective
a bit boggled. When Fletcher was secured
in the driver’s seat, the ignition turned over with a slick purr, he refused to
look in the rearview mirror. “Will we be
stopping anywhere before Queens, sir?”
“Cut the sir shit.
What did I do wrong?” Wesley
leaned forward, putting his forearms on the back of Fletcher’s seat.
“Nothing, Detective.
Any stops?”
“You and Arnie together or something? I didn’t mean talents as in talents, you know. He was just really good at his job.”
“So I hear.”
Fletcher pulled away from the curb with a jerk that sent Wesley back
against his own seat. Narrowed blue eyes
glanced at him in the mirror. The top of
the line stereo system blared with some thumping techno music. And on the dashboard, Wesley noticed, was a
tiny little hula girl swaying to the beat. So much for that professional act
the chauffeur had going.
Now
this is the bitch seat, Wes thought,
crossing his arms with a huff.
Chapter 6
After sitting through a thirty minute stop-and-go
behind a three car accident in Astoria, they had finally breached Queens and stopped
in front of the correct passenger pickup zone at LaGuardia. Fletcher kept the engine running, turned down
the ear splitting music then checked his phone.
“Flight landed. The Captain says
they’re in baggage claim and for you to meet him directly inside.”
Why
is Sutt texting him? What is going on? “Hey.”
Wesley waited.
“Yes, Detective?”
Fletcher kept his eyes on the windshield, his hands on the steering
wheel.
“What’s your problem?”
“It’s not my
problem. That’s the problem. I’m sorry for taking it out on you. It won’t happen again, sir.”
“Ah…” Wesley
snapped his fingers, Fletcher’s anger taking on a whole new light. “I’m not the threat here. Arnie is.
Can’t see why, but he told you no, didn’t he. Some things never change.” Wes snorted at Fletcher’s silence. “Chin up, kid. Good looking guy like you probably has a lot
of prospects. They may not be the
prospects you had your eyes on. But
maybe you just need to look elsewhere.
You’re not the first one to be told no by Arnie. Cliché as it is, it’s not you. It’s him.”
“God I hate it!”
Fletcher finally broke. “I hate
all of it. He calls me all the
time. Come have dinner with me. Come hang out at my penthouse…alone. He knows how I feel about him and he throws
it in my face like my feelings mean nothing.”
Fletcher turned in his seat. His
cap slid to the side, revealing a stray tuft of blond hair. His angry blue eyes wrinkled at the corners. “I told him this morning that I think we
should cool it on the hangouts because I’m more involved than he is and it
hurts because he doesn’t want me back.
And you know what he does? He
kisses me on the forehead. He hugs
me. Not just a few seconds, not some bro
hug, but hugs me for way longer than friend necessary. Then tells me whatever I need like he’s
comforting some child. Fuck him!”
Not expecting the outburst, Wesley sat there with
his mouth hanging open. He stared at
Fletcher until Fletcher’s eyes burned with tears and the young chauffeur ducked
back into his seat. “That sucks,
man. But that’s how he is. He’s waiting for the one.”
“I was too. I
really was,” Fletcher whispered.
“Have you ever thought that maybe he pushes you away
so neither of you get hurt? Maybe he
would rather keep you around as his friend than nothing at all. If I know Arnie, and I do, if he asks you to
keep coming back he values you more than you could know. You just remember that. Sucks right now. But don’t cut ties until you know what holds
the strings together. My mother used to
say that.”
“Well these strings are cheap,” Fletcher grunted.
“Then you better double up,” Wesley murmured as he
departed the vehicle. “Be back soon.” He figured Fletcher needed a moment of
silence to contemplate his feelings, to get himself together before Sutton
joined the party. And if the party went
how Wesley envisioned it going, Fletcher was going to need all the strength he
could muster.
For the most part the kid’s confusing attitude
towards Wesley had distracted him from Sutton’s impending arrival and Feist’s
earlier admission. As Wes entered
LaGuardia, almost smacked in the face with a glass door by a family of five, his
temper joined him again. He wasn’t
kidding when he told Fletcher he hated drama.
Worse than drama, he hated being on the outside, especially where Sutton
was concerned. He had no idea what to
say or where to start when he saw his best friend. Had Sutton really lied to him? Would Sutton seriously keep something as big as
a nephew from Wes?
He wasn’t sure whether to call his anger misplaced,
or whether he should be legitimately mad over the situation. One thing was for sure: he couldn’t blow up
if he didn’t have all the facts. Too
many times he’d fallen into that trap and come out looking like a fool. So to keep things from escalating, Wes
decided to see what Sutton had to say before he overreacted. If there was a good enough explanation for
all of this, he would let it lie. If
there wasn’t, he and Sutt were going to have it out.
Wesley waited by the American Airlines terminal
entrance, reassured as he scanned the screens with flight information to see
that indeed Sutton’s layover flight from Chicago had arrived safely at
LaGuardia. It wasn’t a few minutes later
Senior Detective Davis and his partner, Junior Detective Fontine ambled down
the hallway with their rolling suitcases.
Behind them was a tall blond that could almost rival Wes’s height, and
tagging along were two other young men that were definitely part of their
entourage. Every one of them looked
exhausted and prickly.
Davis didn’t crack a joke or a smile as he stopped
next to Wesley. “They’re on their
way. Had a little hold up with Sutton’s bag. Told him to just ditch the suit and bring a
carryon, but who the hell listens to me?”
The dark skinned former Marine shared a look with his partner, something
unspoken flitted between them.
Fortine cleared his throat and loosened his tie from
around his thick neck. “These are the
new rookies joining us at the office.
This is Maloy.” He nodded at the
blond brute. “And these are rookies
Halverson and Frederick. Say hi to the
star of your little fan club, Senior Detective Wesley Durren.”
“No shit?”
Halverson reached out a hand to Wes.
“Wow. It’s an honor, man.”
Davis elbowed the young rookie. “He isn’t your man. He’s your superior. You address him as sir or Senior Detective
Durren until you’ve got bullet holes in your vest and a year’s worth of coffee
stains on your desk. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Halverson retracted his hand, eyes on the floor.
Davis winked.
“They had a bet going at the academy.
Who you’d get shouldered with this time.”
“And?” Wesley
scanned the small crowd, noting that Maloy hadn’t said a goddamn word, but had
stared at him the whole time. Wes
wondered if this was him, whether this kid was reading his lips. Maybe Maloy was using an alias so Sutton
could continue to hide his nephew in plain sight.
Paranoid
much, Wes?
Fontine twisted, cracking his back. Sitting in a
tiny airplane seat for hours could do a number on a beast as big as
Fontine. He shook his head at Wes. “This is Feist’s new partner.” He hitched a thumb at Maloy. “Not yours.”
A sudden smile touched Wes’s lips. Seems
I’m not the only one getting surprises today.
Feist is gonna shit bricks.
“Well, Maloy, I’m going to tell you this because it’s the most humane
thing to do. Feist is…mmm, he’s a bit
out of sorts right now. Approach with
caution. Stapler,” he added for Davis
and Fontine’s benefit. The veterans
grumbled, already accustomed to Feist’s mood swings.
“I’ll remember that, sir. Thank you for the advice.” Maloy made no move to shake hands or come
closer. He kept up his vigilant stare
and put his hands behind his back, and feet shoulder width apart like a good
little soldier.
Wes looked away from Maloy’s steely blue gaze to
check out the others coming down the hall.
“Where’s Sutt? How long does it
take to find one piece of luggage?”
Again Davis looked at Fontine. His gaze slid back to Wes, making him
uneasy. “Okay, truth. The Cap is having a chat with one of the
newbs. New kid is a bit of a handful.”
That seemed to unnerve Maloy, whose jaw
twitched. His stance shifted from one
foot to the other. He glared at
Davis. “I’m sorry, sir, but Adrian isn’t
a handful. Like all of us he had a long
flight, but unlike you he’s spent the better part of this week in vigorous
finals. Some of us have a harder time
hiding our exhaustion. I think the delay
is forgivable.”
“You might want to watch your mouth, Maloy. I don’t care if you and Adrian are BFF
now. He’s not your partner to stand up
for. And I’m your superior; you don’t
talk to me like that. He’s a handful if
I say he’s a handful.” Davis stepped up
to Maloy.
Maloy stepped in too, towering over Davis. “With all due respect, sir—”
“Cut the shit.
Both of you. We are in a crowded
airport full of humans,” Wes hissed quietly.
“I outrank both of you, so back down and shut the fuck up. Davis, you’re back on home turf. You’re not their king anymore. Maloy, don’t you ever challenge one of your
superiors, even if he doesn’t have the power to throw it down, and even if
you’re right as rain. He may not be able
to toss you out, but he does have the power to come to me or the Captain and we
will be your judge. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Davis?”
“Message received, jackass.”
Wes grunted.
“Good. This is taking too long. I’m about to call Sutt.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Fontine nodded at
the terminal hallway. A tall male, maybe
twenty-one or two with a lean, commanding build came charging down the hall,
nearly barreling into his fellow passengers with his rolling suitcase and a
duffel slung over his shoulder. Loose
curls, glossy and copper, bobbed near his eyebrows whereas the sides and back
of his head had been shorn close to the skin.
His blue eyes targeted their group, sparkling with madness.
“Ah, man.
He’s still mad?” Halverson groaned.
Yards behind the enraged young man, Sutt followed
with a weary gait. His shoulders
slumped. He trudged through the crowd
and he carried a suit bag over his shoulder.
One look from Sutt was all Wes needed to reach out and grab the angry
rookie by the back of his coat as he made to storm by. Wes bent down the scarce inches between them
to whisper in the shaking man’s ear, “Whatever your deal is, you’re going to
stop right now and wait for the rest of us.”
“Oh shit,” Frederick murmured.
“Wes, don’t…” Fontine stepped forward.
The curly haired male stepped out of Wes’s hold so
quickly Wes didn’t have time to lean away from the angry face that was already
in front of his. Hot breath rolled from
the man’s nostrils, hitting Wes across the lips. Wes saw the fire churn in those blue
eyes. Blue eyes that seemed so familiar,
yet impossible to recognize, even for someone with as sharp a memory as Wes’s.
Brows knitted together, the young man slapped Wes’s
hand away and left a sting behind. His
gaze darted between between Wes’s face and his hand like he just couldn’t
understand who the fuck Wes was or what he was supposed to do next. It was clear he was ready to beat the shit
out of Wes, but Wes didn’t comprehend why or how a rookie could blatantly
ignore orders with such hostility like he was above it all. And then Sutton joined them. He stood silently at the young man’s back and
looked at Wes. Everything clicked for
the Senior Detective.
“You can’t hear me, can you?” he asked while looking directly at the young man. “Adrian, right?”
The copper haired man snarled. He started to walk away. Wes yanked him back, rewarded with a shocked
blue-eyed stare. He let go, blocking
Adrian’s path but kept his hands up. “W-E-S-L-E-Y. Call me W-E-S.”
Adrian wasn’t the only one stunned as Wes signed his
name. Glancing at Fontine and Davis and
the rookies, Wes found them all with wide-eyed looks of confusion. Guess
Constance was good for something.
“Wesley, is the car out front?” Sutton shut his eyes for a moment. Wesley instantly wished to comfort his
friend. If this little shit was his nephew, Wesley would hide any trace
of relation too. He could only imagine what
the flight had been like, stuck in close captivity with such a volatile
creature.
“Yes. But I
wasn’t aware you were all taking the same flight back.”
“We have our own ride.” Fontine gestured for the others to
follow. “Good luck, Wes. Maloy and Feist are gonna be a piece of cake
compared to that,” he whispered on his way past.
“Later, jackass.”
Davis patted Wes’s shoulder and walked away.
They filed towards the front door, but Maloy
lingered behind. He put a hand on
Adrian’s shoulder and squeezed, bringing his other hand to his ear as if to say
call me. Adrian nodded with a clipped
jerk of his head. Then there were three.
“So… This is your nephew, huh?” No malice in Wes’s question, just a simple
truth.
Adrian looked from Wes to Sutton. The guy was like a down power line at the
edge of a river, ready to spark at any minute and burn the whole place down. His fierce gaze lingered on Sutton, a
disapproving roam of his eyes from head to toe.
Then he sniffed and took a serious interest in his luggage, giving Wes
time to lift his hands at Sutt.
There were only two times in Wes’s friendship with
Sutton he could remember the Captain looking this sad, this pained. Wes’s vampire senses couldn’t pick up on the
exact cause in this situation either.
Not fear or lies or nervousness regarding Wes and the talk they needed
to have. Sutton had simply shut
down. Just like when Sutt’s son Ricky had
died. And another time a few years later
when Sutton had returned from a vacation to Europe that he wouldn’t speak
about. Wes had never asked because he knew Sutton wouldn’t elaborate. It was why they made a good team; they knew
when to push and when to be quiet.
But now, if Wes had to venture a guess, the reason
was physical. A beautiful male with
striking blue eyes, a stunningly toned physique, and an attitude the size of
the Atlantic Ocean was the cause of Sutton’s mood. They were night and day standing to next to
each other. Sutton with his dark hair
and eyes, flawless skin and well groomed appearance.
And then there was Adrian. Coppery curls in disarray on top of his head,
falling into his bright blue eyes. A
lethal expression etched into his sharply angled face, and his predatory
posture spoke of training beyond the Guard Academy. His long fingers had callouses when they skimmed
around his suitcase, fingertips flirting over the hefty fabric like delicate
butterflies who could turn into stinging bees at any moment. When Adrian stopped moving for just a second,
Wesley noticed Adrian’s bitten nails, a guaranteed indicator of anxiety.
There was a scar on the side of Adrian’s neck just
under his ear, a puckered white line that curved into the collar of his coat,
as well as a few sharp lines on top of his knuckles and his wrists when they peeked
out of his sleeves. Wesley was certain
these healed wounds hadn’t happened at the academy. They looked much older than the four required
years abroad; he’d had enough scarring before becoming a vampire to be an
expert.
Wesley met Sutton’s eyes for affirmation to what he
was seeing. This male wasn’t just a
student, was he? But to everyone else he
needed to be—the apprehension, the urgency to rush him to the states after
graduation, his past unregistered in the system. To anyone other than the three of them
standing in the middle of LaGuardia, Adrian Donohue was just another guy who
had graduated his training and was on his way to be a real detective. He was one of them for all intents and
purposes, when really he could potentially be the most dangerous person at the
Bureau and unlike any of them at all.
Sutton swallowed and nodded. His eyes begged. Wes complied because he felt an explanation
on the way, a long awaited one. He
grabbed the duffel Adrian had tossed to the ground and threw it over his
shoulder. With his free hand he gently
grabbed Adrian’s chin to see the man’s face.
“We’re leaving now,” he said slowly, holding Adrian’s blue-eyed stare
for a few seconds longer than necessary.
“Don’t fight me.”
Wes’s large fingers slipped away from the freshly
shaven skin of Adrian’s chin, leaving behind a hint of sweat on the pads of his
fingertips. Along with a scent that made
Wes faintly salivate. If Adrian hadn’t
made such a bad first impression, he could have ranked higher than the sexy
chauffeur outside, the one with more drama than a soap opera. Luckily Wes was much smarter than falling for
his best friend’s nephew in a split second.
The implications, both from Sutton and the riled up Adrian, if Wes
emitted some type of lusty reaction wouldn’t be good. No, Wes hated drama and unnecessary tension,
so there wasn’t a problem. Adrian was
good looking, even angry. So what? Wes left it at that.
Wesley issued Sutt a calm glance and then walked
toward the door. He didn’t expect Adrian
to run off and cause a scene, no matter how angry he was. And thankfully he did not. Outside, as the other members of their party
were shutting the doors to a Bureau vehicle behind the Phantom, Adrian and
Sutton joined Wesley and Fletcher.
Wesley’s stomach was a ball of knots when he slipped
into the back of the vehicle. He scooted
over to make room for three, which was pointless as Adrian scared Fletcher and
slammed shut the door to the front passenger seat instead. Making it clear he
wanted as much space between him and his Uncle as possible. Wesley was relieved. Fletcher was not, he stood there helpless,
looking to his superior for answers.
“Let him be.
Don’t try to make small talk. He
can’t hear you and he won’t try and communicate with you either. Don’t touch him. Don’t make any attempts to comfort him. Just drive, Fletcher.”
“Can’t…can’t hear me?” Fletcher scrunched his nose. He didn’t get a reply.
Sutton left his suitcase on the curb for Fletcher
and eased in next to Wesley. He rubbed
his face with the heels of his palms, and then rested his head against the
seat. Once the door was closed and the custom
window partition between front and back had lifted, Sutton turned to Wes.
“I don’t know what to say to you right now. I do know I can’t allow you think you can’t
trust me after this. Your comment this morning…I knew what you meant. I knew you had found out. How could you not, Wesley? You work with the world’s biggest gossips.” Sutton licked his lips and rolled his head
until he was staring at the ceiling.
“Adrian is my brother’s only child. A brother I used to work with until we were
about Adrian’s age. At some point I
found it impossible to fight at his side when I knew at any moment he could die
in front of me. It was my greatest
fear,” Sutton whispered as if this was the first time he had admitted it to
anyone. Clearly it was because he couldn’t look at Wesley and couldn’t stop his
hands from fidgeting in his lap. “The Queen noticed it as well and separated us
as partners. At first I thought she was
being cruel. But it was the greatest
thing she had ever done for me because my fear had grown into a weakness during
combat. I was unfocused, doing more harm
than good to protect Davide when really my head should have been in the game,
attentive to our mission.”
“I would have done anything to protect my family,”
Wesley blurted, needing to support his friend.
The moment was too tense. He
didn’t like how Sutton seemed to grimace at every sour word coming out of his
mouth. “It was probably best she split
you up. Not everyone can handle working
like that. I don’t think I could have.” Holy shit.
A brother? Fuck, Sutt, why didn’t you tell me?
“No. And it
was for the best. I was and still am a very
capable warrior. It is how I met you, is
it not? Your white knight?” Sutton smiled fondly for a split second. His features hardened again quickly.
Wes cracked a weak smile. “I seem to remember a slightly less storybook
introduction. But if that’s how you want
to spin it, who am I to correct you?”
Sutton didn’t smile this time. His exhaustion rendered him incapable of
anything except speech. And his next
words got right to the heart of it all.
“Davide and I…we weren’t just any warriors for our Queen. I think you knew that, about me at least.”
During the beginning of their friendship Wesley had
known very little regarding Sutton’s orders.
After joining up with Sutton, Wes was still new to the vampire world, in
shock and uncovering bits and pieces every day about the dark, passionate race
that warred right under the humans’ noses.
Wesley had been discharged as a Union medic after the Civil war.
He had nothing to provide his mother and tiny sister
at home, and he was the only one capable of being the bread winner as his
mother was past her working prime and his sister wasn’t even ten years old. No father. Just them.
He’d promised his family he would find work, work he couldn’t seem to
get around their home, and send money to
them every chance he got. That was his
life mission—to provide for and to protect the ones he loved.
He’d become a courier, a riding messenger for high
paying clientele; men whose statuses outweighed their seedy dealings, with
enough money to put a sparkle in Wes’s eyes.
His reputation for delivering paperless messages from one client to
another, spread like wildfire. He was
sought after for his gift, a photographic memory that, once arrived at his
client’s home or hideout, he could safely replicate detailed blueprints for
robbers, army orders down to the letter to interested parties, or even the last
will and testament of a poor dead man to be forged and changed by a disowned
relative. A dangerous job, he was a spy,
a crook, and known throughout the country as The Artist, a man who could
delicately copy anything he had seen with his eyes to the letter and down to
smallest, most intricate detail of a custom printed floral stationary.
All of it had been to provide for his ailing mother
and his sister back in the Midwest. And
when they both died from a fever one winter, Wesley couldn’t bear to return
home. His devastation almost ended him, until he was requested for service from
one of the most whispered names in the criminal world. He ran to the East Coast, where he boarded a
ship with that man, a client offering more than he could refuse for one last
job.
It was a chance for Wesley to reinvent himself in
another place, with enough money to live off of until he was old and gray. His dreams were curtailed when his eyes were
opened to the truth, when he found himself an ocean away from home with no hope
of rescue. His client turned out to be someone
on the wrong side of a vampire war, and Wesley had been stuck in the middle of
a den of traitors, a scared human abandoned to the underbelly of Paris and an
entirely new world of blood and shadows.
They made him do things with his gift, run errands
between their hideouts with messages he rarely remembered in the morning
because they made him forget. He was
used, abused, and played with like a toy until one stormy night a stranger
killed every one of them in their sleep… except for Wes. To this day Wesley still remembered how
scared he’d been upon hearing those heavy footsteps trudge down the basement
stairs. The way the man’s boots hit the
wet dirt of the lower level room. How
musty the basement had smelled and how cold it was, so cold Wesley recalled his
breath rolling out of his mouth. But one
glimpse of the stranger’s kind eyes in the flickering lamplight, the way the
stranger’s hand had extended like a savior in the dark, and Wesley had sobbed
in relief.
He took Sutton’s hand and never looked back, never questioned
why them, or why he had lived or how Sutton had known. He was just grateful to breathe fresh air
again, to live again, and to receive the second chance he’d counted on. Years went by. He and Sutton were a formidable duo once
Sutton had trained Wes and educated him about their race. The man was an endless well of knowledge and
he made sure to give Wes every last drop of it.
And even as inseparable as they were, Wesley would
often wake in the middle of the night to find Sutton gone from his bed across
the way. And hours later, when the first
rays of dawn broke across the horizon, Wesley would pretend to be asleep as
Sutton crawled back under the covers. Or
sometimes Sutton would send Wesley out on his own when the mission was safe
enough and they would go weeks apart.
Sutton never offered any explanation to what he’d done when Wesley was
away, but Wesley wasn’t stupid.
He knew Sutton well enough to know when he was doing
something dangerous, something he didn’t want to involve Wesley in. At first Wesley had thought his inexperience
on the field and the fact that he’d denied Sutton’s offer to become a vampire
had been the reason. But now, after many
years together, after Wes had finally accepted the gift of eternal life, now it
all made sense. Sutton had already lost
one partner because of his love for his brother. And whatever he did in those hours apart from
Wesley was to keep him safe. But the
time for protecting Wesley was well behind them. He could hold his own in a fight, was secure
enough in his abilities and accomplishments to hear the truth from Sutton now. He needed to hear it. He deserved it.
“Yes. I
knew. Not why you didn’t want me with
you. But…I knew you were doing side
jobs.”
“Side jobs?”
Sutton snorted. “I was a killer,
Wesley, plain and simple. The missions
we did together were under the guidance of the Guardians and the Royals. What I did alone was murder, unknown to
anyone except for Nina. Not even the Guardians knew of us, their bloodline was
thinning and their power was a dead giveaway for such operations. I had no rules, no monetary limitations to
restrict my methods, and endless resources unlike the Royal Army at the time. I was free to get the job done however I
wished because I had no ties to hold me back….until you, my friend. You became my anchor, my conscience, and the
person I wished to come back to at night.
I needed you much more than I ever confessed, Wesley.”
Wesley swallowed down the knot in his throat. His gaze locked on the window, at the waves
of smashed together residences leading out of Queens. He couldn’t look at Sutton. “Just as a friend, right? You didn’t save me that night because
you…liked me…in that way, right? By
confess, do you mean—”
“Heavens no!”
Sutton smacked Wes’s arm.
“Wesley, for fuck’s sake, I meant that you became like a brother to me,
someone I needed to protect and someone to protect me from myself. I was a cold blooded killer for the
Queen. I was a man who did the dirty
work because it needed to be done, the vicious slaughter of those who deserved it
slowly. When I found you and you looked
at me like Davide used to, like the one he looked up to, the big brother who
would always protect him…. Wesley…this is getting too soft for me.”
“No shit.” Wes
smirked and finally turned to Sutt. All
romantic notions left Wesley in a much needed exhale. “Well at least we know you love me like a
brother and not as the star of your wet dreams.
I was starting to freak out a bit.”
Sutton pinched the bridge of his nose. “Durren, I swear to God...”
“That you love me?” Wes teased. They needed some sort of comic intermission before
whatever Sutton was going to say next.
It was big, an elephant crammed in the backseat between them.
Sutton cast him a sidelong glance and smiled. “Whatever, Wesley. I think you know now.” He folded his hands, rubbing his thumbs
together. “What I’m going to say now can
never be repeated to another living soul as it would jeopardize many lives, comprising
mine and others I care about.”
“I swear to you, Sutton. I will never say a word.”
Sutton nodded.
He turned his dark eyes on Wes. “We were called Hunters. An undercover sect of the Queen’s army used
to carry out assassinations of known enemy operatives. We were chosen as young as teens to be
trained by the Hunters who had come before us, my father included. We killed,
gathered intelligence, and sometimes worked in teams to take out larger enemy
covens. Very rarely did we work with
others of our kind, but we were aware of each other at all times. Only Nina and two other trusted Royals know
our identities and the details of our mission, and the location of our…our families.”
Wesley kept a straight face. Inside, he was chilled to the bone. These warriors operating without Guardian
knowledge, and all with the Queen’s permission was a scary thing to learn of. “And Davide?”
“Yes. My
brother was one as well. In fact, he was
better than I was. It’s why I was
surprised to hear he’d taken a mate.
Being a Hunter…it’s hard to be there for others, to have a personal
life. Loved ones are targets in that
line of work. They could be pawns used
to negotiate and then killed. Davide was
never one for love, or to be tied down.
Though after I mated with my Vertina, I understood what the unmated do
not. You can’t deny that kind of bond,
no matter how sudden or startling it is.
Your mate becomes you.”
“Did he stop Hunting after he mated?”
Sutton inhaled deeply and shook his head. “She was a Hunter also. It was in their blood. They wouldn’t have stopped for anything—not
even their son.”
Wesley’s gaze roamed to the partition. On the other side was a man who had most
definitely seen his fair share of violence with parents who were killers. There was no way to hide that kind of life
forever. Had he been a target? Had they hid him away to secure his
safety? “You said was, she was a Hunter.”
“She was killed in Prague when Adrian was very young,
on a mission that was supposed to be quick and easy. It was a trap. Somewhere along the line she’d left a trace
behind and they caught up to her. It was
all so fast and none of us were ever able to pick up the pieces. Adrian…he was so young, so helpless, and
Davide was in no state to raise him properly.
Losing a mate is the worst fate imaginable, having to see the product of
that mating, a perfect image in which the two of you are reflected on an
everyday basis was hell for him. But he
wouldn’t give up on his son. Davide was
much stronger than I ever gave him credit for.
“Still…we didn’t see eye to eye concerning Adrian’s
future. Those weeks in the summer, the
weeks you spent at the Queen’s home and I went away. I went to see Adrian, to beg Davide to let me
have him. I wanted to save him from what
Davide had planned, what was already taking place after his mother died.” Sutton’s jaw clenched. His eyes were murderous. “It is a great legacy to bestow a child our
ways, our traditions, and to leave him capable of defending himself against the
enemy once he comes of age. It is another
thing entirely to teach a toddler how to kill, how to maim, and how to slip
away silently into the night like a ghost. To teach them how not to feel or
trust, how to become a shell of a living thing.”
“What?”
Wesley’s blood ran cold. His
fingers bit into his thighs. “Sutt,
please don’t tell me—”
“You have to know this as his new partner. Yes, I
said partner.” Sutton narrowed his eyes,
ready for an argument that never came. “He
won’t tell you, Wesley. To him, you are
a weakness he cannot afford to have, just as I am, his blooded family. He rejects relationships and emotions because
he was taught not to have them. In his
eyes his mother’s death was proof that bonds are meant to be broken, further
instilled by his father’s pain and teachings.
And Davide…he loved his child more than life itself. Don’t get me wrong, he was a good
father. That said, Wesley, he also used
his son to some degree to fill the space left behind by his mate. He wanted Adrian safe, so he created the
perfect weapon, a perfect partner—a child who would never be left
defenseless. He made Adrian a Hunter.”
“No way. How
could the Queen approve that? Nina would
never…” Wesley gaped.
“By the time she learned of Adrian’s abilities it
was too late to pull him out. He would
never have gone quietly, never fit in with the others and not only because of
his deafness, although that was a key factor in her decision. Imagine how cruel they would have been to
him, Wesley. Imagine how he would have
retaliated against others his age.”
Wesley didn’t want to dwell on that image, of
innocent children being victim to a child who had been a victim himself. It was sick and twisted, and suddenly, he
pitied Adrian. They were nearing the Robert
F. Kennedy Bridge, cars streaming by, and the East River fast approaching on
their left as Wesley stared out the window again. “She should have pulled him out. She should have made Davide—”
“You couldn’t have taken away his son if you
tried. Besides, Adrian was too smart for
that. He liked being with his father and
going on missions. He would have run had
he known his father hadn’t given his permission and never been found
again. The only thing Nina could do was
rely on Davide’s loyalty to her as a warrior, and to teach his son the same
loyalty. It is the only reason Adrian
did not go completely off the grid after Davide’s death. She is the only thing that ties him to us now
because Davide lived to serve her and his race in his own way. It is the reason Adrian still lives, Wesley,
because he believes his purpose is to carry out his father’s allegiance to her
whether he likes it or not.” Sutton shifted
to stretch his legs.
“No one truly knows what happened the night Davide
died. The only thing we know for sure is
that in addition Davide’s death, another of our operatives was killed, shot
point blank in the head multiple times and had her heart cut out. Her body was found in the alley of a local
café, the rendezvous point for our Hunters to pose as enemy informants, so they
could stop an enemy coven from leaving for the States. Adrian was located about twenty minutes south
of the rendezvous point, and only because he texted Nina for pickup. Not one spot of blood on him, Wesley. They found him naked, shivering under a
blanket in some elderly human’s home, and the only things he possessed were his
daggers that no one was allowed to touch.
He claimed he knew nothing. That
was ten years ago. Envision what he can
do now.” Sutton’s stare burned into
Wes’s back, urging him to turn around.
Sutton’s eyes were so dark they were almost
black. “Four years ago the Queen
received complaints from the other Hunters.
Their missions were already done when they showed up on the scene. Bodies were piling up, the right names and
faces that should have been dealt with, but too many of them to begin to
hide. Human authorities started to
notice, Wesley. Adrian was getting out
of hand, playing night vigilante to avenge his parents. It’s the only motive we have at this point,
the only logical reason he would kill that hard.
“Nina demanded he take a break. If Adrian refused, she would strip him of his
title, cut him off and the next time he killed he would be put behind
bars. Our kind of prison.” Sutton cringed. Wesley did so inwardly. If Adrian was to be put behind bars by the
Queen, he would rot there like a criminal.
He could take to the turn and no one would help him. No blood.
No food. Just a man alone in the
dark left to die for his unfathomable sins.
No one would choose that ending.
No one. Not even Adrian. “He was angry to say the least, but I believe
he appeased her by going to the academy because he knew he could serve his time
and then hunt some more. One more notch
in his belt, freeing the streets of those who had taken his parents away
forever.”
“Do you think he’s stable enough to do this,
Sutt? Why is he even here? Shouldn’t Nina have him around the other
Hunters? They could handle him better
than…I don’t mean to say you can’t, but…”
Sutton hissed, cutting Wes off. “At graduation…Nina provided me an assistant
to sign during the service. The Queen exposed
him to our race as deaf, and Cadence Hightower initiated him as a Guard. Everyone knows his name now, his face, and his
weakness. There is no going back for him
now, Wesley. He is no longer a Hunter by
title. It would be too dangerous and he
knows it. It is the only reason he got
on that plane with us, he knows he has nowhere else to go. He is broken, Wesley. We have taken away who he is. But it was necessary. You should have seen what he did to…”
Wesley ignored Sutt’s last comment in favor of
sleeping well tonight. “My God,
Sutton. He’s going to freak out on
me. He’s a fucking killer, not a
Detective with a cubicle and a Bureau coffee mug. He’ll lose his mind.”
“He’ll regain his humanity, Wesley. Hunters can’t go on forever although we never
age. There comes a time when even the
best warriors must secede from constant death.
It would turn us into monsters. I
have faith in Nina’s decision. It breaks
my heart to see him suffer, to lash out at me when all I ever wanted was to
bring him up as child who knew what it meant to be a child. But what’s done is done and he is who he
is. Now it is time for him to open up
the parts of himself he was forced to hide long ago. Once upon a time a man did that for me, helped
me recover my mind, my heart, and forced me back into the world of the living. Now I’m begging him to do it again. Anything you want, Wesley, name it and I’ll
give it to you. Just please…please help
him. He won’t listen to me.”
“He can’t hear you,” Wes murmured.
“But you can hear him. You can get through to him. I know you can.” Sutton grabbed Wes’s hand and squeezed. “He is all I have left of my brother,
Wesley. Davide might have gone his
separate way and he might have been wrong to train Adrian so young, but he was
brother and I loved him. If he knew I
gave up on his son, if he knew, Wesley… He would haunt me from his grave until
I gave up on life too.”
Sutton, begging for help with near tears in his eyes
was a sight Wesley never wished to see again.
Nevertheless he had to think on this some more. To help a dangerous man who could kill him in
his sleep, or to let Adrian go, and risk the former Hunter wreaking havoc on
the city, or worse...rotting away in an underground prison. While the answer seemed simple, Wesley wasn’t
so sure if he was up to the challenge.
First there was the divide in communication, and not just the fact that
Wesley was new to sign language. That
was the easy part. Getting Adrian to
open up and respect him was going to be next to impossible.
Then there was the issue of socializing him at the
Bureau. Where Adrian might have been top
of his class at the academy, at the Bureau he would basically be a
submissive. He would have to abide by the
rules, take punishment like an adult and not as a slap on the wrist for a fuck
up like he would from an instructor. He
would be responsible for having the Guards’ backs on the field, be part of a
team and understand that there wasn’t room for a showoff. Making a spectacle out there was frowned upon;
attracting attention that was poison to their livelihoods as vampires,
creatures who thrived on secrecy.
Wes had worked as a Guard for a very long time. Having a partner, a real partner was like
being married in some aspects. Knowing
each other’s ins and outs, dos and don’ts, talents and weaknesses while
maintaining a bond that branded them as brothers was a hard relationship, one
any Guard would see through to the end if the partnership was right. If he said yes to Sutton, Wes was stuck with
Adrian. That was crystal. Adrian was a special case, a man who couldn’t
be returned to sender once things went wrong.
And they would. Wes knew that to
be true too.
Now it was a question of whether Wes could rise
above his preconceived notions of this dangerous vigilante and work to get the
real Adrian to make an appearance. Was
he up to that kind of responsibility?
Could they make a partnership work?
He hadn’t even said two whole sentences to the guy and already Adrian
viewed him as a threat. What happened a
week from now, a month from now, a year from now? If things were so bad Wes couldn’t stand to
breathe the same air as Adrian, what then?
Would he be stuck with the guy?
You
like challenges. And you love a good
mystery. This kid is a Detective’s
dream, Wes. He probably has a few things
to teach you. You’ve got a shit ton to
teach him too. Look at Sutt, look how
desperate he is. Can you really leave
him hanging after all he’s done for you?
Has he ever asked you for anything, something this important? He trusts you over anyone else with his
nephew’s wellbeing. That’s love,
buddy. Say yes. You ain’t really got a choice here.
“And if I say no?”
Sutton withdrew his hands from Wes’s and slumped
against the seat. “He’ll be granted four
weeks with another partner, a trial run of sorts, and if it doesn’t pan out and
he reverts to his old ways…Nina will see to his prison transfer. We will never see Adrian again.”
Wesley sighed.
“You really think I can turn him around, Sutt?”
“I wouldn’t have risked a dozen plus lives and my
own ass by telling you about the Hunters if I didn’t. You’re a hard ass, Durren. You won’t treat him any differently than the
others. And you certainly won’t put up
with his shit. More importantly, you’ve
done this before. You have a way about
you, a gift with people I can only wish to have. You won’t baby him. But you won’t push him over the edge
either. You’re the perfect man for the
job.”
“Fine.”
Wesley hung his head. “But if
this doesn’t work out…”
“I know,” Sutton whispered. “Thank you.”
“Whatever. Just
drop me off at the office before you guys go home. I need to check in with Jones and—”
“About that…” Sutton peered at him. He forced a weak
smile.
Wesley snarled.
“What now?”
“As you saw earlier, Adrian wants nothing to do with
me…let alone stay with Vertina and me.”
The Senior Detective’s jaw dropped. “Hell.
No. You can’t be fucking serious,
Sutt. I said I’d partner, not live with
him!”
“Part of the deal, I’m afraid. He needs constant supervision right now. You have a spare room that you never use… I’ve
already transferred money into your account for expenses if that worries
you. I—”
Wesley’s nostrils flared. He crossed his arms. Eyes swirling and locked on the partition
window, he growled, “I am never doing another favor for you again. This is it.
That kid tries to murder me in my sleep and you won’t have to worry
about his life anymore because I’ll kill him.”
Sutton exhaled, his torso bowing over his lap as he
put his face in his hands. “Fair
enough. Thank God.”
“Don’t thank him yet.”
To be continued…
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