Among the Deepening Shades: Chapter Six

[jesterladyfic]

Chapter Six


Mitchell flipped on the telly as he settled at the bar with his food. Annie was up sitting with Nina and George was at work. Mitchell was feeling positive. His jitters from the past two days had gone. Nina had started feeling better the day before and she and George had announced their pregnancy to Mitchell and Annie. It hadn’t come as a surprise to anyone, but they’d had a mini celebration with champagne for everyone but Nina. It had been the most peaceful everyone had been since Annie’s return.

There was an uneasy truce between Nina and Mitchell now. She and George were obviously still scared about what would happen when they transformed in a few days but other than that things had quieted. Annie wasn’t hovering quite as much as she had been and Mitchell had decided that both his prophecy from Lia and his encounter with Graham were singular incidences not worth dwelling on.

He ate his eggs, switching to the sports channel, only half paying attention to the news castor.

"Our main story tonight is the much anticipated clash between the vampire John Mitchell and an as yet unnamed werewolf.” Mitchell froze and then quickly turned his attention to the television screen. “Of course regular viewers will know that this has been on the fixture list since a prophecy was given to Mitchell by one of his victims, that he would be killed by a werewolf. In a surprise move Mitchell's camp recently cast doubt on the reliability of this prophecy. They've dismissed it as mind games, prompting this response from Team Werewolf: ‘Mitchell won't be saying that when he gets his head ripped off. There's a wolf-shaped bullet with his name on it. Mitchell's gonna get got.’ So it just looks like this story refuses to stay dead."

Mitchell turned off the screen, then flung his eggs across the room, shattering the bowl against the wall, and let out a string of curses.

“What the hell is going on?” asked Annie, running down the stairs.

“Nothing, I’m going out,” Mitchell said, grabbing his jacket.

“No,” she said, leaping in front of him. “No, you don’t get to do that anymore. How do I know you’re not out about to ravage anyone who looks at you the wrong way?”

In spite of his sudden fear and anger he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ravage? Really?”

“You know what I mean,” she said, flushing.

Mitchell closed his eyes and tried to rein in the impulse to push past her and run until he was on the other side of the country.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone. I just need to go out. I promise.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I can handle it, Annie. You don’t have to try and fix everything.”

“You don’t have to do everything by yourself,” she retorted.

“I’m not; I’m just going for a walk. Is this how it’s going to be? I’m just going to be tethered to you, not allowed to do anything for fear I’ll start killing again?”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Annie. “You’re twisting my words.”

“You’re twisting my life, just leave it be,” said Mitchell and walked toward the door.

“Just remember what you stand to lose,” said Annie softly as he left.

Mitchell slammed the door in response and felt bad, but not bad enough to go back and apologize. He was facing a death sentence; he had the right to be angry.

It was the surprise of it all that was the hardest bit. Yes, he’d known about the prophecy, but he’d managed to convince himself it was all a game to Lia. He should have known better. He was going to get everything back, Annie, George, their family of sorts, his control; then lose it all, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

Maybe pushing Annie away hadn’t been a bad thing; maybe it would hurt less for her when it happened. Mitchell wondered who it would be as he walked. Nina certainly seemed the most likely candidate, but then again, George could be very protective of her. Maybe it would be the baby. Hell, maybe it would be some stupid accident by a random stranger and the biggest irony of everything would be that Mitchell would get killed for no reason at all except to fulfill some great divine proclamation.

He cursed again.

“Good thing no ladies are present,” said a voice from behind him.

Mitchell turned around to see Graham shadowing him. A panic began to rise up inside him, but he forced it down.

“What are you doing?” he gritted out.

“I got a job,” said Graham. “Gonna be a porter, just like you.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” said Mitchell.

“Well, just catching up then,” said Graham, smiling. He opened his jacket to display a pair of scrubs underneath. "I wish I had a camera. Not that it would do much good considering we don't show up on photos."

"This isn't happening," said Mitchell. "You can't stay here."

Graham’s smile vanished and he spoke low, in a forced casual tone.

"Cara says hello."

Mitchell swallowed.

"What did you say?"

Graham smiled again, shrugging.

"Oh yeah, she got over that whole 'pretending to kill her and bricking her up thing.' You'd have to ask her though."

Mitchell ran his hand through his hair. Why was this happening to him? Better not to ask that question, but still…

"Where is she?"

"Dunno. She around though, digging up trouble somewhere."

Graham kept walking, as if he wasn’t deliberately trying to…what…blackmail his way into Mitchell’s life? It was pretty clear he was suffering from a case of hero worship or vampire envy or something like that, but this was ridiculous. Mitchell didn’t have time for it.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, forcing Graham to stop and face him.

"I just want to be here, is that too much to ask?" Graham slapped him on the back. “Well, gotta get some rest before I start the job, right? See you later, Mitchell.”

Mitchell wandered for a long time after that. To sum up his problems, he was a vampire trying to be a human, he was going to get killed by a werewolf sometime in the unknown future, he kept pushing away the people he loved, and he had a vampire stalker.

Maybe it would be worth it to die. He’d certainly felt ready while Lia had been guiding him down his corridor of horrors, but it was different out here in the world. George’s fastidiousness and Annie’s smile popped in front of his eyes and he sighed. He definitely owed Annie an apology. He just kept on pushing her away. Maybe it was time to think about why.

For the month she’d been gone all he’d thought about was her. She’d filled his every moment with the memory and need of her. Getting her back hadn’t erased his past, but it had made him feel like he could have a future. Her face when she’d found out what he’d done had broken him and her forgiveness had put him back together again.

Lately he’d started feeling like maybe there was something more behind her eyes when she looked at him, some awareness that hadn’t been there before. She’d been paying more attention to him, stammering and stumbling over her words, blushing when he smiled at her. He’d chalked it all up to happiness that they were all friends again, except she didn’t do that with George. Had she possibly started fancying him? If she had, she had truly horrible taste in men, he’d give her that. Why now? Was it just gratitude for him getting her back?

How did he feel about her anyway? It hadn’t really crossed his mind before. He’d been too busy dealing with Lauren and Herrick and Lucy and all of that to think about Annie that way. Unbidden came the memory of the fresh chill of her kiss that accidental brush so long ago. The horribly crude words he’d spoken to her in the kitchen while languishing in the midst of the blood invading every sense…he hadn’t meant them. Well, he had, but they weren’t true in the sense of him ever verbalizing them that way or wanting to act on them. He’d never wanted to treat her like that. But that one kiss, it was memorable in that it had been wholly innocent like no kiss he’d ever had.

He’d wondered about that aspect of it. He’d cherished that memory. He’d wanted to do it again just to see if it still felt like that. When she held his arm or leaned her head on his shoulder now, she was warmer than he remembered, but still colder than the average human.

But this was all pointless. It didn’t matter if he did think about her or want her or…love her. He was going to die and he was a vampire and she deserved so much better than that.

She also deserved to know the truth about why he was angry, or at least an apology.

Mitchell reversed his course and headed back to the house.

***

George and Annie were laughing on the couch when Mitchell entered the house.

Annie immediately stopped laughing and looked carefully at him, searching for signs of blood and violence or maybe penitence.

Mitchell flopped down on the couch next to them.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, “but I’m sorry for storming off like that, Annie.”

“What did you do to her?” asked George.

“He didn’t do anything,” said Annie. “I cleaned up your mess,” she told Mitchell pointedly.

He flinched.

“Sorry. I just needed some space.”

“You could let other people take care of you sometimes, you know,” she said.

"You could stand to let other people take care of themselves sometimes. I didn't fetch you back here to do anything, you know. Just be here."

"Yeah, but now that I am here-" she said.

Mitchell interrupted her.

"We can look after ourselves."

“You'd be lost without me," she said, only half joking.

"And how would you be without us, huh?" asked George.

“Now you’re siding with him?” she asked him.

“There aren’t any sides, Annie,” George said. “You just have a tendency to try and…fix things. I can understand his wanting some space.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me around?” she asked, feeling hurt.

"No,” said Mitchell immediately. “But you can't base your life on what you give to other people cause, well, we might not always be here."

“What’s that mean?” Annie asked, studying him closely. “You mean…your prophecy?”

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and not looking at them. George exchanged a glance with Annie. “Just try and remember that you’re the only constant you have.”

"But I can take care of you guys," she began.

"Stop it,” Mitchell said sharply. “Annie, stop defining yourself by what you do for other people. Get…"

He trailed off and George squeezed Annie’s shoulder gently.

"A life?” she finished. “Bit late for that.” When neither of them said anything she continued, hardly knowing what she was saying, except it was all she could think to say. “What do you think I came back for? To a world where I can't be seen or heard or touched? All I've got is you and Nina and George. You are my life. You give me life. Mitchell, you saw that place and I'm telling you that if I had to drift through this world without you, with no one knowing I'm even here then….then I might as well be back there."

Mitchell swallowed and turned to her.

“I don’t…plan on going anywhere,” he said. “George and Nina are going to die one day though.”

“Hey,” said George.

“It’s true,” said Mitchell.

“Well, yes, but you don’t have to just blurt it out like that,” said George.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, is all,” said Mitchell. “No need to get all philosophical. It’s appallingly early for that.”

“It’s night,” said George.

“Vampire,” pointed out Mitchell.

“Don’t start,” said Annie, feeling strangely better, if slightly worried suddenly about her entire existence and the point of it. “All is forgiven.”

“What’s for dinner?” Mitchell asked, looking at George.

“Why am I suddenly the cook? I worked all day.”

“You can cook,” said Mitchell and Annie at the same time and they laughed.

“You can cook too,” grumbled George, poking Annie.

“You’re still king of the kitchen,” said Annie. “Self-appointed if I remember properly.”

“You would bring that up,” said George.

Annie leaned back on the couch and watched Mitchell harass George with ease. Yes, this was how she wanted to live. Mitchell would just have to get over it because Annie had no purpose without them. Besides, he’d very neatly sidestepped the question of why he was angry by putting the conversation on to her. She would find out why.

***

Mitchell came in through the back door to find Annie brewing some tea and smiled at the familiar sight.

“And how are you?” he asked.

“Fine, fine, you know me, always chipper,” she said, blushing again. “Um, I never say the word chipper, but you know…”

“Good to know,” he said, amused.

“Your friend’s here,” she said, gesturing to the living room and gathering up her mugs. "I must say, he's very very interesting."

Mitchell’s good mood vanished.

“What friend?”

He followed Annie into the living room to find Graham lounging on the couch next to George. Mitchell stopped inside the door while Annie handed Graham and George a cup.

"Cheers, big guy,” said Graham upon sighting Mitchell.

"Graham was just telling us about the time you went skiing," said George.

"Funny, I don't remember that. At all," said Mitchell in a hard tone.

"Well, it was more falling than skiing. I swear we spent more time on our backs with our mouths full of snow than we did on skis," said Graham in the awkward silence.

George and Annie had instantly quieted and were watching Mitchell closely. He ignored them and focused on Graham.

"You see, I don't remember it, because it didn't happen."

“Um, what’s going on?” asked George.

"Yeah, he was tough back then too when he was training me,” said Graham and Mitchell couldn’t believe how hard he was trying. “Such a hard taskmaster, all he would do is train, train, train, train, train, bloody train. You remember that, Mitchell? Bloody train?"

Mitchell looked at Graham and then realized what was happening.

"Oh, is this the part where you try to blackmail me?" he asked.

“Mitchell!” said Annie.

“Someone tell me what’s going on,” said George.

Graham suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

“They already know, Graham,” said Mitchell, spreading his hands. “That’s not gonna work.”

“No harm in trying,” said Graham, looking embarrassed for all that.

“What do you want?” Mitchell asked, in no mood to continue this game. He stepped forward and grabbed Graham by the neck, hauling him to his feet. "You are in my home, with my friends. That is a big no-no."

“Mitchell, stop it,” said Annie.

"They could be my friends, too," Graham gasped out.

"No, they couldn't."

"And you've got a spare room, I could move in. It'd be nice to have Annie just down the corridor."

Annie suddenly stopped protesting and Mitchell saw red.

"Don't you even speak about her," he said venomously, thrusting harder against Graham’s throat.

“Bet they never saw you…like this before,” said Graham, forcing his words out.

Mitchell growled and dragged Graham through the house and out the front door, George and Annie following behind. Once they were outside, Mitchell dropped his hand and Graham fell to the ground.

“They know who I really am. I don't deserve them as friends, I never have. But you…you're despicable. I will not be your puppet. You're just a fat, pathetic wannabe with no friends and no personality of your own. You are nothing. Now stay out of my house."

Graham’s face crumpled and Mitchell actually felt a little bit sorry for him before the other man got up and hurried away.

"I think you actually hurt his feelings, Mitchell," said George.

"Good riddance," said Mitchell.

“Would you care to tell us what that was all about?” asked Annie. “Or are you going to tell us it’s none of our business?”

Mitchell laughed. For some reason this didn’t bother him as much.

“Guy showed up out of nowhere the other night,” he explained, leading them back into the house. “Looks exactly like me.”

“I did notice the resemblance,” said George. “He even had the same boots.”

“And gloves,” pointed out Annie.

“That look did not work for him,” said George.

“No,” agreed Annie, shaking her head.

“It’s mental,” said Mitchell. “Said he was going on a vampire star tour.”

“Naturally he came to see you,” said George. “I suppose Dracula was next.”

“Might have been,” agreed Mitchell. “But I ran into him again, said he’d gotten a job at the hospital as a porter.”

George started laughing at that.

“Are you serious? Because that’s a job worth having, all the vampire legends are doing it.”

“Step on up for your exciting opportunity to witness firsthand all the vomit in Barry,” said Annie, joining in. “If it’s good enough for John Mitchell, it’s good enough for all the little vampires.”

“Laugh it up,” said Mitchell. “The last thing I need is other vampires thinking anything I did was cool and wanting to imitate it.”

“You’re right,” said George, but he was holding his sides.

Mitchell gave up and started laughing along with them. Graham was sad in a way but they were right, it was a bit funny.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take him under your wing?” asked Annie. “Teach him the proper way to lie in a casket?”

“Or not wash up anything ever,” put in George.

“Best way to roll a fag?”

“All the Laurel and Hardy movie titles in alphabetical order?”

“How to kick over chairs in the movies?”

“Okay, I get it,” said Mitchell, shaking his head.

Nina came down the stairs. She looked far better than she had in the last few days and she was dressed and showered, ready for her first shift back at work.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Mitchell’s got a vampire stalker,” said George, still laughing.

“I’m not even going to ask,” she said, rolling her eyes. She kissed George on the cheek. “I’ll be home later.”

That sobered George up.

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked. “I could come with you.”

“I’m having a baby, not brain surgery,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Call me if anything happens,” he said.

“Believe me, I will,” she said and left.

They were all quieter now.

“Do you think Graham’s going to be a problem?” asked Annie thoughtfully. “He looked…desperate.”

“I don’t know,” said Mitchell. “I hope not.”

He grimly thought about what Graham had said about Cara, but kept that bit to himself.

***

Annie was on a mission. She was going to figure Mitchell out and convince him to tell her what was going on. She had her own ideas and it would take someone of very little intelligence not to put Mitchell’s prophecy at the top of the list of things he had to be worrying about. Still, Mitchell was always juggling at least eight pieces of information that if he’d only be upfront about them, Annie’s life wouldn’t keep getting blindsided. Somehow she didn’t think that his habit of doing so, formed over a hundred years, would break simply because they told him it had to.

So she was just going to have to intervene. Once that was out of the way then she could perhaps forget about how every time she was in the same room with him Lia’s words would flit into Annie’s mind and she’d start blushing, imagining Mitchell in an entirely different way than she ever had before. The idea was enticing because it seemed…fated to be. They were both going to be dead forever. He needed someone to keep him on the straight and narrow and she would be around for the job. He was…funny and smart and had an ease about him that she envied. When he was upset, it permeated the air around him, but so also when he was happy. She soaked up that emotion, feeling in it the semblance of the life she’d once had.

She hated the idea of ever losing that feeling but she was more cautious now than she had been in life. She’d seen true darkness, felt it within herself, and she knew the evil that lurked in men’s hearts didn’t always present itself in a straightforward way. Sometimes men didn’t have to be monsters to be evil. Sometimes good people did bad things. Sometimes the end was the beginning. Sometimes what you wanted was taken from you. She was not about to base the rest of eternity on what amounted to a suggestion from a fellow ghost and a mutual attraction. She deserved more than to simply fall in love with him because she already loved him. If he broke her heart, she wouldn’t recover easily.

So she wanted to get things back to the status quo. That included fixing whatever was going on in Mitchell’s head, making sure George and Nina were safe and happy, preventing Mitchell from getting killed, and figuring out how they were all going to live from now on. Annie had no idea how to go about the latter two so she was going in order until she had to deal with them. Perhaps she could get information about the prophecy from the other side but she was leery of the idea. She hadn’t forgotten her experience even if she was dealing with it better. The very thought of anything to do with Purgatory was petrifying.

So instead Annie was cooking dinner and thinking furiously about everything. She’d been trying to figure out what Mitchell liked best to eat for over a year now but he was apparently a creature of incredibly varied taste and he liked to tease her that she would have to guess. Staying fiercely away from parsley soup, she had been cooking up almost anything she could think of for when he came home.

She fell into a rhythm of sorts, stirring, measuring, and thinking. It was surprisingly easy to multi task as she stopped focusing on what she was doing, simply letting it happen around her. There was peace in involving herself in a routine, something that had made her happy in life. All of the things that she was so worried about didn’t go away but they seemed more manageable when she was also doing something else.

A loud shriek from behind her made her jolt out of her task and suddenly items fell to the ground all around the kitchen. Measuring bowls and spoons, ladles and pot lids, oven and refrigerator doors, that had all appeared to open and pour and check themselves, now lay scattered or broken on the ground and counter.

“You-you, doing that…poltergeist,” said George, apparently unable to get actual sentences out of his mouth. “What was that? You didn’t even blow anything up.”

“Until you showed up,” said Annie, a little surprised herself. She’d been completely unaware she’d been doing everything without her hands. “That soufflé was almost ready too.”

She wasn’t scared so much as immensely pleased. She’d stopped making everything explode lately but then she’d pretty much stopped doing anything. It secretly made her happy to feel like she had control over the things around her. To have controlled the chaos was a huge step forward and gave her hope she’d be able to cope in the future. Maybe she wasn’t a helpless little ghost, traumatized by death, after all. Sometimes she found glimpses of steel within herself, but too often she just reacted to things, bound by her emotions and her circumstances. She wanted to grow. Not just as a person but in her…abilities and skills, to take control of her life and not let anything just happen to her anymore. When evil found her, she would be able to deal with it.

The memory of Kemp’s voice rang in her ears again but she ignored it, focusing on George’s open mouth.

“To hell with the soufflé,” said George. “Annie, did you see yourself? You were, were cooking with telekinesis.”

“Is that bad?” asked Annie. “Would you rather I shattered some more light bulbs?”

“I’d rather you didn’t do anything at all,” he said.

“George, I’m a ghost. I’m not normal. Neither are you, by the way.”

“Once a month,” he said half-heartedly as if even he himself couldn’t believe the old excuse anymore.

“Did I scare you?”

“It’s just a bit startling to walk into one’s kitchen and find the knives floating in mid-air, yeah,” he said, pulling himself up.

“Sorry,” said Annie. “I just wanted to-”

“Just wanted to what?” he asked, gazing around him. “There’s enough food here to feed us all for months.”

“I still need to figure out Mitchell’s favorite,” she said hesitantly.

George put his head back dramatically.

“Annie, you’re not trying to wrestle his innermost thoughts out of him with food, are you? That’s never gonna work. Pretty sure his favorite is not covered under normal cooking books anyway.”

Funny, in all her time thinking about this, it had never occurred to her that, of course, Mitchell’s favorite food was blood.

“You can’t deny he’s been moody and secretive,” she said, avoiding that issue entirely. “He does that and next thing we know he’s killed again. Do you want that to happen?”

“Of course not,” George said wearily. “But apart from being a creature of the night, Mitchell’s a bloke. This is not how we do things.”

“Oh, share the wisdom of the ages, please,” said Annie. “How do blokes handle situations like mass murder?”

“Not by poltergeist cooking,” he shot back.

“Rude,” said Annie.

“I just meant, Mitchell’s gonna see this coming a mile away.”

“It wasn’t exactly meant to be subtle, George. I’m running out of ideas and you’re not helping.”

“What, what am I supposed to do? Why does it always have to be me?”

“He listens to you.”

“He does not.”

“More than me.”

“It’s cause you’re so obvious about trying to fix everything.”

“What does that mean?”

“Annie, you…you have a tendency to butt in to other people’s problems. I know you’re just trying to help, but it can be very, well, very annoying.”

Annie swallowed her hurt.

“My tendencies aside, look at Mitchell. Look at him and tell me there’s not something wrong. He’s going to die, George.”

“We don’t know that,” said George in the tight-lipped voice he used when he didn’t really believe what he was saying.

“Something happened to him over there,” said Annie, trying not to cry. “You weren’t there. It was…it wasn’t hell, but it was awfully close. So don’t tell me that’s not something that needs fixing. Everything’s…broken, it’s all mixed up and he’s not the same, but he is, and I want him back.”

“I do, too,” said George, coming closer and stretching out his hands. Annie moved away, not wanting to be touched. “But…Annie, maybe it’s… Well, maybe it’s you that’s changed.”

“What?”

“You’re cooking with telekinesis,” he said again.

“You’re just scared of things you don’t understand,” she said.

“Yes, yes I am,” he said. “My point is that you’ve changed. Hell, we’ve all changed. There’s…much more…monster. In all of us. You experienced things, you…well, you took Kemp.” Annie turned away. George paused for a moment. “That can change a person like with, with me…and Herrick. Sometimes…when we’re scared for the people in our lives, it’s really us that we’re worried about. I’m, I’m terrified of what’s going to happen to Nina and Mitchell and all of us, but mostly I’m scared, Annie, so scared, of what’s inside of me.”

His tone made her turn around and hug him.

“You’re good,” Annie said. “I’m good. Nina’s good. Mitchell’s…pretty good.”

George laughed into her shoulder.

“We’re all…scared.”

“But I’m more scared?” she asked.

“Remember Kirsty and Hugh? You went to…let’s say insane lengths to help them. But it was all a reaction to not being able to be seen anymore. A bit,” he hastily added, using his thumb and forefinger to demonstrate.

“Nice save,” she said, pulling back. “You’re right. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong here.”

“Maybe,” said George. “But…be careful with the kitchen.”

She swatted his arm and turned to clear up the mess.

“How is Nina doing at work?” she asked over her shoulder, listening as he talked.

She had a lot more to think about all of a sudden. Maybe there was more to her mania than just wanting to help Mitchell. But having something to focus on wasn’t a bad thing. If she let herself fall into an abyss of constant fear of the other side, then she truly would be lost. Doing something about it, standing up and fighting it, that’s what turned the course of life. She refused to give up on the people she loved.

If that meant she didn’t have to think about what she was capable of, well, that was okay, too. She’d rather just be stronger than she’d ever imagined than dwell on the fact. She brushed aside the thought that not focusing on herself meant she was ignoring the potential bad as well as the potential good.

***

George was waiting in the kitchen when Mitchell came home. He’d had an unsettling experience and wanted to intercept Mitchell before Annie got a hold of him.

“Let a fellow get his coat off,” said Mitchell, eyebrow raised at George’s ambush.

“No time for coats,” said George. “Mitchell, Annie’s cooked up an entire feast for you.” Mitchell groaned, but George didn’t stop there. “She did it without her hands.”

Mitchell looked confused for a second and then realization lit his face.

“You mean…”

“Yes, her poltergeist-ing has reached the level of domestic comforts.”

"Okay, well, that’s…unexpected.”

“There’s more,” warned George.

“What?”

“Graham came by. He was looking for you. He seemed in a bit of a weird mood."

"Did he threaten you? What did he say?"

"Um, he said, 'tell Mitchell, I'm going to make him proud.' Like you were his dad or something. He left you something."

“What did he leave?”

“I looked through it. It’s…disturbing to say the least.”

Mitchell moved closer and George held out a journal of clippings. Mitchell leafed through it quickly. All of the articles had to do with the Box Tunnel Twenty. Their death and the havoc wreaked spread across pages and glorified into something worthwhile.

Mitchell’s face paled as he read.

“No, no, no,” he muttered.

“What does it mean? Other than his sick fetish with you is truly horrific?”

Mitchell stopped at a page in the middle and pulled out a train schedule.

“That’s what it means,” he said, turning and running upstairs.

George followed him, asking questions.

“It’s just a train schedule…”

Mitchell began rummaging in his room before evidently finding what he was looking for and dashing back downstairs.

“He’s gonna do it, George. I have to stop him.”

George watched Mitchell run out the door and then the realization hit him.

Graham was going to copy Mitchell and Daisy, going to murder a whole train of innocents so he could prove he was just as good as Mitchell.

Suddenly the comments they’d made about Graham didn’t seem as funny. A child trying to imitate his father was endearing, a grown man who had the power to wreak mass destruction when his father didn’t approve of him was terrifying.

George thought back to Graham’s face when he’d been there, back to the hurt and anger when Mitchell had denounced him. No, there wasn’t anything funny there. Vampires were as varied as human nature itself, but every one that George had ever met had the same sense of pride, the same lack of control over their reactions, the same joy in destruction.

All of them, even Mitchell.

They were predators, craving the devastation of the weak, loyalty and honor achieved through violence and domination. Only one had ever shown George kindness, earning George’s own loyalty. Certain vampires had shown restraint, Ivan for example, George thought showed considerable restraint. Some were haunted by their deeds like Daisy. George didn’t want to think about her. No, he tried very hard not to think about her or to remember she even existed. The guilt weighed too heavily when he did that.

So he thought about Mitchell instead, about how for every cruel remark or violent act he’d done, there had been ten considerate words or unselfish deeds. Maybe that didn’t erase the bad, but for a vampire, George reflected, that had to be an anomaly.

He’d forgotten what other vampires were like. Mitchell had protected him for so long, not involving him or Annie in his work at the funeral parlor. Once the attacks on George had stopped, also due to Mitchell’s intervention, George hadn’t been in the same room as a vampire other than Mitchell until Graham.

Vampires were the worst and truest form of their human selves, Mitchell had said. Well, if that was the case, George was sorry he’d never met the human John Mitchell, because that man must have been incredibly persistent and very self-aware.

George didn’t realize he was just sitting on the stairs until Nina walked up and stood below him, her height causing her to be right about his eye level.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

George shook his head, gesturing with his hand and pulling her closer so she was standing between his legs.

“Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“Vampires.”

“Lovely topic,” she said, tensing a little.

“Nina, please, just…listen to me,” he said, not wanting to hear anymore of her warnings or hard truths or dire predictions about the future. He just wanted to tell her what he was thinking. “I just need you to listen.”

“I always listen to you,” she said, frowning.

“I just mean…don’t be…biased.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

George told her the full story about Graham and his interactions with Mitchell, at least what he knew. Thinking back, he really knew very little because Mitchell hadn’t given many details.

Nina leaned against George a little and he supported her, absently measuring the burgeoning of her stomach with his hands.

“So Mitchell ran after him,” ended George simply.

“Do you think Mitchell can stop him in time?”

“I hope so.”

“Before I tell you what I’m thinking, you’d better tell me your thoughts,” said Nina. “Mine are definitely bound to be more negative.”

“Mitchell’s the only vampire you’ve known,” George stated.

“I know.”

“I’ve known others.”

“Okay…”

“They’re different. Nina, they’re so different from him. It’s weird, but Graham’s reminded me - Mitchell thinks differently.”

“I don’t understand,” said Nina.

“We’d known each other maybe a year,” said George, “just moved into the house. He’d turned a girl and I thought he was going to- you remember Becca, from the hospital.”

“She died,” Nina said, her eyes glinting with understanding.

“Mitchell didn’t kill her. Lauren, the girl he’d turned did. See, that’s the thing, he’d turned Lauren thinking that was better than just killing her, I’m pretty sure, but Becca was killed because of that decision. So he let her die. I was holding her in my arms, drenched in her blood, and he let her die.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” she said, brushing a kiss against his forehead.

“But I thought that night…I remember telling Annie, that Mitchell had saved Becca. Vampires are different, they have no restrictions, every inhibition suddenly cut loose. In the first rush of that hunger, who could control themselves? Who? Becoming that would be hell, addicted to something beyond your control and not even something you actually need.”

“I never thought it would be easy,” she said. “Does that make it right?”

“No, it’s all wrong,” George said. “That’s my point, it’s all wrong and hard and yet…Mitchell changed. Somehow he understood it was wrong. Every day he works at not being what is essentially his true self. How difficult that has to be.”

“He doesn’t always make it,” Nina said somewhat gently.

“No, but he tries. He actually tries. I’ve never met another vampire who actually tried. He’s unique.”

“That still doesn’t excuse his mistakes.”

“Nobody’s perfect. Nobody can be all good all the time. I’ve, well, I’ve made mistakes. Look at you,” he turned her face so she was looking directly at him, “my beautiful Nina, look what I did to you.”

A ghost of a smile was on her face and she cupped his face in her hands.

“It was an accident, George. You’ve always tried to keep yourself from hurting people.”

“Sometimes I’m so angry I want to tear the entire city to pieces with my hands,” he said, swallowing. “Sometimes I’ve pictured their blood in my teeth and their skin shredding.”

Nina shuddered and turned away.

“You haven’t,” she said. “Neither have I.”

“You feel it then?” he asked.

She nodded.

“But we haven’t done that,” she said. “If we ever do that, we would be just as culpable as Mitchell is. You don’t get points for trying not to kill people.”

“We’re not playing by the same rules anymore,” George said sadly. “In this world if we don’t give points for that, what’s the point in trying?”

Nina spread her hands across her belly.

“This is my point. You’re my point.”

He nodded, pulling her closer again.

“I just mean…he tries and it’s hard for him, I’d forgotten how hard. I think we have to think about that sometimes.”

“I’ll try,” she said.

“Thank you,” he answered, kissing her softly, then more fervently.

With a ferocity that surprised him, she pressed him back so his back pressed painfully into the hard edge of the stairs and nipped at his throat.
George felt an answering call within himself and his initial surprise and questions about ‘how’ and ‘why’ and ‘was this happening’ were washed away under her onslaught. With a growling sound he picked her up and carried her up the stairs, her hands busily tearing at his clothes.

He dropped her on to their bed and divested himself of what she hadn’t already torn off before pouncing on the bed himself, finding himself occupied with a ferocious bedmate and not minding it at all.

***

Mitchell ran.

He tried not to think as he ran, but thoughts inevitably crowded into his mind. He had to make sure he got there in time, but what if he didn’t? What could he possibly say to Graham anyway, to get him to stop?

Mitchell wasn’t exactly known for his ability to lead, despite constantly getting put into the position. He’d started to make headway in Bristol and he’d been proud and excited about helping his fellow vampires. It had been the hard decisions, the pressure from both sides, the moral gray areas that had crushed him. Everything had literally been blown to pieces and he’d retreated into himself, focusing solely on revenge and then getting Annie back.

From pain to pain, he ran to whatever was hurting him most. What the hell could he possibly tell anyone that would help them?

Mitchell got on the train and methodically began checking each car. He found Graham in the fourth car and when Graham stood up, Mitchell blocked his way, gesturing for him to sit down again.

Graham was still dressed in his ‘Mitchell costume’ as George had called it. But he’d put on makeup now, as if trying to look as imposing as possible. Mitchell felt a great pity well up inside him.

"You don't have to do this," he said quietly, trying to calm himself enough to speak clearly.

"You think I can't? You think I haven't got it in me?"

"It isn't hard to do,” Mitchell said, knowing that to be the truth. “The hard part is not doing it. And I failed. And I've regretted that every minute of every day since."

"Then you are weak,” said Graham, but Mitchell heard the tremor in his voice. “Who should I do first? Maybe I'll take the child. Make the father watch.” When Mitchell didn’t say anything, Graham kept talking. “I killed my own children, you know. Ripped out their little throats. Drained em dry. Nothing's quite seemed real since then."

Mitchell could understand that. The first kill made everything go a little bit hazy, still enough guilt to make you feel, but the pleasure overrode everything else until you didn’t quite know what reality was. If it was someone you knew, were close to, that was even worse, it made that feeling of guilt linger longer.

"I'm sorry for what's happened to you, I really am,” Mitchell said, knowing he had to try. “I'm sorry I rejected you, but this isn't the way."

"You don't get it, do you? I want to be the new legend vampires whisper about in the night. The new king of blood. Starting from now."

Graham stood up and strode forward but Mitchell grabbed him and dragged him back in between the cars, babbling something about undercover ticket agents.

He slammed the door behind them and Graham slumped to the floor.

“This ends now,” Mitchell said.

"So what happens then, eh? You gonna kill me? Cause you don’t kill other vampires, Mitchell, Cara proves that. Do you want to throw me off the train? Go on, that's fine, cause there's plenty of other trains, there's plenty of other easy targets. I swear to you I'm gonna make your little massacre look like a bloody paper cut."

Mitchell closed his eyes because the very idea of doing what he had to do was painful; it felt like he was failing himself, like he was admitting there was no hope.

"How messed up are we, huh?” he said. “Vampires, as a species, that my story can be seen as inspirational! It has to end. The story has to die. It's gonna hurt." Mitchell drew a stake from his pocket, tucked there for this contingency, and drove it into Graham’s chest. Graham gasped in pain and looked surprised. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Tell, tell people that…you liked me," said Graham, his last words a pathetic exaggeration of his true self.

"I will," Mitchell promised, tears forming in his eyes.

He held his hands on Graham’s chest. Graham tried to raise his hand and just bump Mitchell’s fist with his before he faded into dust.

Mitchell stood up, swiping his hand across his eyes, and struggled to control himself. He wanted nothing more than to tear the train apart. Lauren had asked for her fate and that had been bad enough. This time Mitchell had murdered one of his own, and it had been a pointless death. If someone had only been able to help Graham…Mitchell hadn’t even tried, too obsessed with his own problems.

It was a never-ending process, a never-ending choice. Every time Mitchell thought he’d made a stand on one side of the line or the other, something kept dragging him back. Would he have to reaffirm his choice of humanity over and over again, standing over the gritty remains of other vampires? He hated the idea, but was there any other way?

He rode the rest of the journey in between the cars, standing with clenched fists. When the train finally stopped he simply stayed where he was until it started again and began its return journey. After it arrived he got off and walked home slowly, not really wanting to face what was going to happen when he got there, the inevitable questions, the poking and prodding, the silent worry that he’d done something wrong.

In a strange way he also wanted to go home, to at least be somewhere where people knew he who was and for some reason wanted him around anyway.

They were all sitting down and eating when he arrived. Belatedly he remembered Annie’s supposed feast and it was not supposed, it was actual. The counter was loaded with dishes and there was a plate set aside for him. Warmth resounded in his chest and he smiled and sat down at the table.

They let him dish up in silence, a courtesy for which he was grateful. When he’d finished gathering all the good things Annie made, he looked up and met her eyes.

“What happened?” she asked gently.

He told them all, without mincing details. This was one burden he didn’t want to carry alone.

“Are you okay?” asked George.

“No, I’m not. I’m really not.”

“I’m sorry,” said Nina, the sincerity in her voice causing everyone to look at her.

“Thank you,” he said, hoping his own sincerity showed as clearly as hers.

“You did the right thing,” she said next. “He was obviously determined to prove his worth. Whatever that meant.”

“I know,” he said, pushing his food around his plate. “It’s just all so pointless. I keep rolling it around and around in my head, about how he thought that what I did was something to be proud of. All the things I’ve done, they’re imprinted forever in my head, but I’m not the only one who lives with the consequences. Everyone, every vampire hears about it and it awakens the hunger in them, their pride in their abilities, the need to prove themselves. Herrick used to tell stories about me, to every new recruit. That’s…not how I want to be remembered.”

“I tell stories, too,” George said conversationally, eyes fixed to his plate. “It’s not just the bad that’s remembered, Mitchell. Whenever I tell stories, I tell about how you saved my life. Maybe, uh, maybe it doesn’t wash out what you’ve done, but, but there’s another side to the story. Sometimes…it just depends on who’s telling it.”

“Thank you,” Mitchell said again, not really trusting his ability to say anything else at the moment.

George nodded, still looking down.

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” said Annie, placing her hand on his.

There was a spark of something like static electricity that raced up his hand and he started.

Annie jumped a little and blushed. Mitchell cleared his throat to break the silence; George and Nina were both staring at them. Nina narrowed her eyes and Mitchell stuck a forkful in his mouth while Annie hastily removed her hand.

They ate in peace after that, Nina telling some stories about the hospital, Annie quizzing her on her pregnancy, George and Mitchell idly discussing an episode of Real Hustle. It felt real and normal and Mitchell slowly began to relax. He needed something like this after the day he’d had. Maybe there would be more days like this if he didn’t run away all the time. Or maybe he should just enjoy them while he could because his time appeared to be running out.

After dinner there was some good-natured arguing about what to do next and who had to do the washing up before a knock sounded at the door.

They all looked at each other, instantly suspicious as to who could be knocking on their door.

“Maybe it’s the postman,” said Annie.

“We don’t get mail,” hissed Nina.

Mitchell rolled his eyes and walked to the front door and pulled it open and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Daisy was on the doorstep, Cara beside her, holding onto someone Mitchell couldn’t see properly behind Daisy and in the dark.

“Hello, darling,” Daisy purred, waggling her fingers. “Did you forget about me?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked tightly, folding his arms.

“Ooh, back to that, are we? You ping pong back and forth a little too easily, don’t you think?”

“What do you want, Daisy?”

“We want you to fix what you done,” said Cara, glaring at him.

“I can’t give you your teeth back,” Mitchell said.

Nina, George, and Annie were crowding around him now, peering out to see who was there.

“Hiya, George,” said Daisy, licking her lips.

George squeaked and ducked back behind Mitchell before emerging again and apparently doing his best to appear nonchalant.

“Um, hi,” he said.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Nina said, rolling her eyes.

“Did I miss a reunion text or something?” asked Mitchell. “What the hell are you both doing here and who’s that?”

“Oh,” said Daisy, slowly smiling. “That’s one of your messes, Mitchell. Allow me to reintroduce you.”

She stepped backward and tugged forward a man, dressed in a suit, small and appearing to be trying to make himself smaller. His eyes were beady and frantic, his body trembling. His pale wispy hair seemed to float away from his head.

Mitchell froze.

“You remember our great king Herrick?” asked Cara.