Among the Deepening Shades: Chapter Ten

[jesterladyfic]

Chapter Ten

Annie really wished she had some way of contacting Sykes, but she didn’t even though she had tried. She had no idea where he was or how to get involved in what she assumed was some sort of ghost community. Apparently all the ghosts in Bristol had known each other somewhat, but Annie hadn’t encountered any other ghosts here in Barry.

Instead of getting any help from the fellow dearly departed Annie had to rely on her own abilities. A dangerous thing at the best of times, she thought grimly, but she had no other alternative. Her plan to hold the other side hostage was laughable, but there was something about the whole situation that didn’t make sense and she had to get to the bottom of it. If the other side wanted her so badly, she’d give them herself, but she wasn’t going to go into it unprepared. She would give them a prize that they couldn’t handle.

Perhaps it wasn’t wise, and she certainly shouldn’t be attempting something like this on her own, but she was almost driven to it by something inside her she couldn’t fathom. Every time she thought about how the other side was manipulating Mitchell into death and attempting to get her on their side, she felt that rage again and whatever thoughts she might have had about trying to get anyone else’s help were forgotten.

So she practiced, for lack of a better word. She took all the techniques Sykes had shown her and kept on working with them. After blowing things up in the house a few more times she had taken to frequenting an abandoned building in a less frequented area of Barry. It was easy to sneak out of the house at night; the others didn’t expect her to keep to their schedule after all. She had all the time in the world without needing to sleep. Perhaps she was adding to local legends about haunted houses, but she didn’t care.

She found that the more she concentrated the more she was able to see through the solidity of the world around her. The walls of any building were no more than a covering, sheltering a vast world inside them, ready to be manipulated by someone with the ability and desire. Rubber casing on electrical wires was no barrier at all and she could see inside them, see the very fibers they were made of. She wouldn’t say she’d suddenly developed x-ray vision or anything like that, but she was not bound by the physics of the world. She just had to look past her human mentality to see that.

Objects flew to her bidding; the movements becoming smoother as she practiced. The electricity of the building obeyed her every whim. She could rent-a-ghost with complete accuracy over incredibly long distances. She had, in fact, jumped back to Bristol several times now. Tonight she was there again, not just to visit the little pink house that held her best and worst memories, but because she was on a mission.

She’d been practicing for three weeks now and even though she almost didn’t know what she was practicing for, she knew she couldn’t do any more on her own. What she needed to be able to do was not just manipulate the physical world around her, but to be able to fight against those who could do the same.

Sykes had shown her a few spots he liked to frequent every now and then, but she knew he was a wandering spirit, unlikely to stay in one place for long. She kept trying because even if he wasn’t around, perhaps there were other ghosts who could help her. That mother had found her through Sykes, Annie didn’t see why the opposite couldn’t be true. The problem with ghosts was they were always crossing over. She hadn’t had any luck on her previous visits, (even the old movie house was abandoned now that Alan had gone on tour) but she kept looking.

She nosed around for a while without success so she prepared to jump back to Barry.

“Annie?” asked a voice behind her.

Annie jumped and held her hand to her heart.

“Sykes, you scared the life out of me. Well, you know what I mean. Um, hi.”

“Hi,” said Sykes.

He looked exactly the same and Annie was inordinately pleased to see him.

“You’re still here,” she said stupidly, even though she’d been looking for him.

“I’m still here,” he said. “What are you doing? The last I heard you’d been sucked to the other side.”

“Long story. The short version is I’m looking for you,” she said. “Um, I need your help.”

“Again?” he asked, but his tone was gentle.

Annie laughed and crossed closer to him.

“Yeah, so, well, I’m training…doing all the things you taught me. I’ve gotta, sorta, cross over and kick some transparent ass, if you get my drift.”

“Literally not at all,” he said.

Annie laughed, a bit nervously this time, and tried her best to explain the situation to him.

“Annie, that’s not possible,” he said, when she was done.

“How do you know?” she asked. “It’s not like you’ve ever visited.”

“No,” he said, “but every ghost I’ve ever known who tried has failed.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her heart sinking.

Sykes sighed and leaned against a rubbish bin.

“Annie, the other side is very powerful. They like order and they like their little foot soldiers to comply with that order. Ghosts in and of themselves are outside of that order and they don’t like it. That’s why if you don’t resolve your unfinished business, they resolve it for you.”

“But they sent me back,” said Annie.

“And that’s what worries me,” said Sykes. “They shouldn’t have, no matter what was going on with your vampire friend.”

“Lia said that they needed me to choose to come back, to come through my own door,” said Annie.

“And what exactly are you choosing to do now?” asked Sykes grimly.

“Oh,” said Annie, her thoughts racing. “Are you saying…Mitchell’s prophecy is all a trap for me?”

“Possibly,” said Sykes. “All I know is that any ghost I’ve ever met who crossed over and intended to come back, for whatever reason, never did.”

“So, do you think…if I just never go back, that Mitchell will be safe?” Annie asked hopefully.

Sykes laughed.

“I doubt it,” he said. “They’ll do anything to get what they want and if that includes manipulating the world to get it, they will. Mitchell might as well say his goodbyes now.”

“No,” said Annie. “No, I won’t let them do that.”

“If you go to save him, you’re just doing what they want,” said Sykes.

“There has to be another way,” said Annie.

“Well, you are rather unique,” said Sykes. “If anyone could do it…”

“Oh, um, thanks,” said Annie, oddly touched. “I’ve been practicing everything you taught me, but I need to be able to…I don’t know, manipulate other ghosts or something like that.”

“That’s generally frowned upon,” said Sykes, frowning himself.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” said Annie, “but what else can I do? I just don’t know how to fight them on their level. I know how to…I know how to get humans where I want them, but not…not ghosts.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Sykes, looking worried.

Annie looked down, not really willing to talk about Kemp.

“Trust me, it’s part of that long story,” she said. Kemp’s voice screaming echoed in her thoughts and some part of her still relished in the sound. “You don’t want to know. I just need to be able to somehow defend myself while I’m there. Isn’t there some sort of self-defense for the dead?”

Sykes pondered that for a moment and then took off his jacket.

“Okay, here’s something.”

He flicked his hands and Annie found herself hovering off the ground, unable to move.

“What the hell!” she shouted. She felt sick. She actually physically felt something, not just the hazy approximations of sensory input she normally did. “What are you doing? This is wrong.”

She was panicking, unable to remember what it was like to feel anything other than just being somewhere; these new sensations of pain were overwhelming. She wildly lashed out.

Sykes gave a low cry of pain and lowered his hands and Annie felt herself on the ground.

“Annie, how did you do that?” he asked, panting.

“You were hurting me,” she said, hardly aware of herself.

“Effective, isn’t it?” he said. “Not all ghosts are nice, Annie. We’re still just the people we used to be, and people dying under tragic circumstances, doesn’t always lead to the most well-adjusted thinking.”

“I get that,” said Annie, sinking to the ground, still overwhelmed by the tactile sensations she hadn’t felt in so long.

“Some ghosts attempt to…overpower their fellow ghosts,” said Sykes delicately. “We can’t touch the humans; at least the rest of us can’t, so they’ve taken what they can get. We ghosts are tangible to each other. They take that to their advantage. We’ve learned to defend ourselves against them, but it’s not something that’s done lightly or often. There’s a…code, if you will.”

“Does this work on the other side?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But it’s the only thing I know.”

“Okay,” she said, getting up. “Teach me.”

“Annie, there’s a price to doing it.”

“Of course there is,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s like a bloody film. What is it?”

“I don’t mean a material price and it might not apply to you. It’s just…the ghosts who aren’t very good people are more likely to hurt other ghosts, but the ghosts they hurt who defend themselves, for some reason they seem to cross over to become more like their attackers. It’s as if the very act of hurting another ghost makes you want to do it more.”

“Well, then I won’t do it that often,” said Annie. “Sykes, this is my only option. I can’t let them have Mitchell.”

“Do you think he would let them have you?” asked Sykes enigmatically, putting his coat back on. He held out his hand. “Come on, there’s a rather unsavory place that will be a good place for you to practice.”

Sykes talked her through the mechanics of the skill, but Annie barely heard him. It felt like everything he was saying she already knew. She didn’t know whether to be worried about that or not. When he had bound her, she had reacted instinctively, somehow knowing how to hurt him so he would stop hurting her. It was encouraging in a way; she had come here for that after all.

After Sykes had let her practice on him a few times, it was too much. For both of them. He was reeling and she could feel the effects of what she’d done. She began to understand what he meant about it changing the person who did the binding. It made her feel sick, but there was a kind of righteous thrill to it as well, to know you had that much power over someone.

“What’s so unsavory about this place?” she finally asked, a way to distract herself from her thoughts.

“We’re not there yet,” said Sykes. “There’s only one acceptable time for use of this method. I hope we don’t find anything, but I’m pretty sure we will.”

Sykes led her across town and they poked their heads around the side of a building.

“What’s this?” Annie whispered.

“A lot of ghosts hang out here,” said Sykes, his hand showcasing a courtyard in front of a rundown building. “Unfortunately, that means that some rougher types eventually show up. Most people leave at that point, but you always get the ones who think they can handle it or are too new or stupid to know better.”

Annie watched with him and saw what he meant. The place had been chock full of ghosts when they arrived, but after awhile there was a disturbance towards the back and ghosts started popping out of view all over the place. A few more ghosts came into her eye line. The most remarkable thing about them, Annie found, was that they were all different. It wasn’t the usual type of gang where you got the same types hanging out together; there were men, women, old, young, every ethnicity she could imagine.

“This is usually when it starts,” said Sykes. “Now, I’m going to get people to leave, can you handle them?”

“What, all of them? At once? By myself?”

Sykes grinned.

“Annie, I’m pretty sure you could take them down easily. You just have to try.”

“I’m scared,” she said, gulping.

“Look at what they’re doing,” Sykes said, pointing.

Annie turned and started to frown. The ghosts who had been there before were being herded into a corner; some of them already attempting to fight back, but the ghosts who had just arrived appeared to be stronger. Cries of pain began to echo from the square.

“Could you take them all?” asked Annie.

Sykes looked away.

“I’ve never tried.”

A small child ghost cried out in fear and Annie didn’t bother to respond to Sykes. She barely remembered he was there. It was almost like a switch inside her had been flipped and she was back in that place she remembered being once before. Anger built inside her like a storm and she moved quickly across the courtyard, flickering in and out as she went. The instinct and power took control and her hands moved. She couldn’t say she was without the ability to make decisions, but she had no compunction about making them.

Ghosts scattered in front of her left and right, her targets freezing in position, wailing in pain. Winds blew around her but she paid them no mind. Almost through a haze she saw Sykes guiding the ghosts who had been against the wall and they began to rent-a-ghost away. But that wasn’t enough. People should never be allowed to do this, living or dead. Annie was sick and tired of bullies.

She felt lashes of pain against her but they were more of an irritation than a serious detriment. A few ghosts appeared stronger than the rest and she concentrated her will upon them. She couldn’t say how she was fighting them, she just knew that they had to be defeated and she wasn’t going to let them hurt anyone again. Reaching forward she bound them together and pushed tighter and tighter. She could see the core inside them and it was rotten, she twisted that core and they screamed in agony. Thrusting against that ugliness, she stretched out her hands and the ghosts dissipated into particles and faded.

Annie felt a stab of victory and turned to look for her next victim. The other ghosts she had already bound hovered helpless and she grinned, moving for them.

“Annie!” came a shout to her right. “Annie!” She didn’t want to be distracted just then, but there was something about the voice that was familiar. “Annie, it’s over,” said the voice.

Annie shook her head, trying to focus. The exhilaration left her and she suddenly recognized him. Sykes was in front of her, staring at her in wonder and fear.

“Sykes?” she asked, a sudden dread igniting inside her. “Sykes, what did I do?”

“You…ripped them apart, Annie,” said Sykes. “I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”

“But I, I, oh, I didn’t mean…”

She sank to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself.

“It’s…okay,” said Sykes. “But let’s get out of here.”

“What about them?” asked Annie, motioning to the still-bound ghosts.

“Let them go,” said Sykes. “I think they learned a valuable lesson.”

Annie shuddered and released her control. They all rent-a-ghosted away immediately and Annie began to cry, alone in the courtyard with Sykes.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Annie, we helped some people,” said Sykes. “But I think you see what I mean about it being dangerous.”

“That’s an understatement,” she retorted, still crying.

Sykes looked uncomfortable. She doubted he was ever very adept at comforting crying people.

“You should go home,” he said. “Where are you living these days?”

“Barry,” she wailed.

“Wales?” he asked, looking incredulous.

“I know,” she said, trying to focus on anything other than what she’d just done.

“Then let’s get you home,” he said.

“Home,” she whispered and jumped up. Yes, she wanted to be home very much. Back with George, and Nina, and Mitchell. Mitchell, she needed to see him right away. He could help her wash away the awful feeling inside of her, he would understand. “Yes, I need to go. Thank you, Sykes, I’m so sorry,” she said.

She left and rent-a-ghosted home, Sykes and his worried face the last thing she saw. She took a second to adjust herself because she was so confused and horrified. She needed contact, some kind of warm and close contact. Since she was a ghost that rather limited her options and it wasn’t like Mitchell was a living, breathing human being, but he was where her heart was.

She burst into his room. He jumped up in bed, blinking in confusion.

“Annie, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“I need you,” she said and pushed next to him on the bed, kissing him, too frightened to consider this wasn’t exactly how she’d wanted their first kiss to go.

“Annie, what-” he started to ask, but she interrupted him, only pulling back enough so that she could see his eyes.

“I need you, please,” she said. “Mitchell, I love you, I love you more than anything and I don’t care what you’ve done and I don’t care about the future, I just need and want you right now. Please don’t ask me any questions, just make love to me right now, please.”

“Annie,” he said.

“Please,” she said, infusing everything she had into that one single word.

Mitchell pulled back and stared at her in the light that streamed in the window from the moon. She kept her gaze calm and intense even though every inch of her was just screaming inside for him to kiss every inch of her facsimile of a body and keep her thinking about anything other than what happened.

After a few minutes he nodded and cupped her face.

“Okay,” he said, “okay.”

He leaned forward and kissed her tentatively but she couldn’t take tentative right then, she gripped him tightly and mashed their lips together with a force that was surprising even to her.

She was amazed at how much she could feel this, she hadn’t known what to expect even though she’d thought about this too many times to count. There weren’t the usual physical responses she was used to, but it didn’t seem to matter. She was entirely focused on him, on what something like this meant. She knew how it was supposed to go and that’s all she appeared to need.

He pulled her forward onto his lap and she ran her hands down his bare back.

“Can you feel this?” she asked him, her teeth clacking against his.

“You’re cold,” he said, kissing his way down her neck. “Soft. Beautiful.” He flipped them so she was underneath him on the bed. “How do you get your clothes off?” he asked, his hands roaming.

That was something Annie had mastered early on, tired of looking exactly the same, and grateful that at the time of her death she had been wearing clothing that lent itself to being repositioned easily. In a moment she was naked beneath him and he shuddered, closing his eyes.

“I’ve thought about this,” he said in a low voice, his hands playing across her stomach, lips trailing down her collarbone.

“Don’t think,” Annie said, as much for her benefit as his.

He chuckled and kissed her again, much harder this time.

***

Mitchell had been happily sleeping before Annie burst into his bedroom. One look at her and he knew she was devastated about something. He’d been prepared to listen to her tell him everything but he’d been completely blindsided when she kissed him instead.

He couldn’t understand and she told him not to ask questions, told him she loved him, told him she needed him. Something like this had to be a dream, but she was right there in front of him. Clearly something had happened to convince her to come to him and he was already on the edge about wanting this relationship to happen. He didn’t want to take advantage of whatever her emotional state might be. But she begged him, a single please being enough to make him thoroughly examine her face. What he saw convinced him that even though something else was the catalyst for this encounter, she had wanted it before that.

He kissed her and she responded aggressively. Something inside him, something very deep, awoke at that, and he pulled her onto his lap and proceeded to acquiesce to her desire for sex. But there was something so different about this than any other time he’d ever been with a woman.

Kissing her was like what he remembered from so long ago, she was cold, but it was…he didn’t want to call it refreshing, but perhaps bracing was the right word. It gave energy, the chill of her touch. He felt awake, much more awake than he had any right to feel after being woken up so suddenly. She was solid enough, but her body was soft underneath his touch, almost like she might slip away if he didn’t grip her tightly. Her flesh was supple in a way that had nothing to do with flesh and everything to do with the fact she wasn’t really there.

But no matter how she felt or how unusual their situation she was beautiful and he wanted to kiss every inch of her skin. She lay beneath him, having shed her clothes and she looked better than he’d ever imagined. He kissed her again, giving in to her requests. This was nothing tender and mild like he’d always thought he’d be with Annie their first time when he’d dared to plan it at all. Whatever had happened to her made her desperate in her movements and actions and he matched her speed, hardly noticing it after awhile because this was the way sex had always happened for him before.

He tried to maintain his control but he hadn’t had any prep time and pretty soon he felt the old hunger stir inside of him. It was so easy to lose himself in Annie, in the way her body moved and the eagerness with which she received his kisses. There was no blood beneath, nothing for him to take, but the mere motion of sex was like a trigger pulled and before he knew it, he had his fangs out and buried inside her throat.

There was nothing there for him and the hunger howled in disappointment. Annie gasped in surprise and bucked against him, knocking him backward.

“Mitchell!” she hissed. “What the hell?”

Reality slammed back inside him and he felt the guilt smothering the hunger. He stared in horror at Annie who looked frightened and startled.

“Oh, Annie, oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, backing farther away from her.

“What was that?” she asked, her hand to her neck, but she brought it back down again.

There was no sign anything had happened.

“Annie, did I hurt you?” he asked.

“You can’t hurt me,” she said. “It wasn’t even painful. I didn’t notice until…well, until I did.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just…it’s so hard to control myself.”

“So every time you have sex you just…go all vampy?” she asked.

“Yes, no, it’s not every time,” he said, frustrated with himself.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Annie,” he said, amazed at her ability to think outside herself. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m a ghost,” she said, obviously trying for levity, “there’s nothing you can do to harm me.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he said, hanging his head. “I’m sorry, you just came in here and it was so sudden. Normally I have more time to prepare myself.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, throwing her head back. “This is all my fault.”

“No,” he said, “no, Annie, this isn’t your fault. This is my problem.”

“No, but I could’ve done this better,” she said. “I mean, I’m…in love with you, but I didn’t even give you time to say whether you love me. I guilt-tripped you into sleeping with me and-”

“Hey,” he said, gesturing to her, "come here.” She scooted closer to him and he took her hands, studying their linked fingers as he spoke. “I made the decision and there’s nothing wrong with offering yourself to someone, with wanting someone to love you, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, but he could tell she wasn’t convinced.

“I…have been thinking about you,” he admitted. “I thought maybe you fancied me but I didn’t think I would be right for you.”

“Nobody says fancy anymore,” she said, the sounds of a sob clearing from her voice.

Mitchell laughed.

“Okay, I guess George was right about something. My point is, this isn’t as sudden as it feels right now.”

“You thought about me that way?” she repeated.

“Many times,” he said, smiling at her. “But I didn’t want to encourage you because I didn’t want you to throw yourself away on me. I’m no good for you, Annie. I didn’t know how it would work. I was worried about something like this. When I get like that, I, I can't control myself."

"I guess, who would we be kidding trying to have a relationship?” she said softly. “It's…we can't do anything that normal couples do. We can't have children. We can barely have sex."

“That might not be such a bad thing,” he said.

“What?” she asked.

He sighed and tried to explain.

"What sex is to me…it's a weapon. It's never been about love, it's never even been about lust. It's just…it's just the blood.” She nodded and looked away. Mitchell thought about it for a moment because all his pondering on the subject was coming to the fore right now. He’d been avoiding this conversation, but those few moments with her had been eye opening. When she’d asked him to help her, he knew that he loved her. So maybe, just maybe, this was something he could have, something beautiful before the end. If she wanted, if she could accept it. He took a deep breath and kept speaking. “But we can have something better than that. Something purer. Oh, I've done so many bad things, Annie. I'm tired of being manipulated. For nearly a hundred years I've been a slave to hunger. But with you, you give me a reason to take control back over my life. You give me a reason to start again."

“To start again,” she said as if tasting the words to see how they felt.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s scary. If…if nothing happens, then you and me, well, it's for eternity. Really forever.”

“That’s a long time,” she said, smiling a little.

Her response awakened a hope inside him he didn’t know he possessed anymore. She made him feel alive, as cliché as that might sound.

“Oh, Annie, I’ve been running scared my whole life. A typical, useless man but I…I don't want to live without you. I can't live without you. I can't. I can't."

“Sh,” she said, putting her hands on his face. “I don’t want to live without you either.”

He put his arms around her and they stayed that way for some moments, just holding each other. He wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, how he’d gone to bed a single man with no hope of living and was now attached with something to live for.

“Do you want to tell me what happened earlier?” he asked.

She shook violently against his shoulder.

“No, no, no, please. I just can’t. Maybe later, I don’t know, but just for now let me have this moment where I get to be happy.”

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “Can you live with what I did? With what I’m capable of?”

“Mitchell,” she said, pulling back and looking him dead in the eyes, “if there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that anyone is capable of anything. We’ll make it work.”

“Okay,” he said, worried at her attitude, but willing to accept it nonetheless.

He could be a selfish bastard sometimes, but somehow this felt less like a selfish desire on his behalf and more like something he was…meant to do.

***

Nina woke with a strange smell in her nostrils. That wasn’t too unusual, after all, she was pregnant and baby werewolf appeared to augment her already augmented sense of smell. She lugged her body out of bed and made the requisite trip to the loo, at least the eighteenth since midnight.

Putting her robe on, she made her way down to the kitchen. Mitchell and Annie were sitting at the kitchen table, heads leaned in close.

“Morning,” Nina said, yawning.

They jumped apart like scheming children and Nina narrowed her eyes.

“Morning,” said Annie, overly bright. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a pregnant wolf,” Nina said, watching them closely. Mitchell wasn’t looking her in the eye and Annie appeared to be rather flustered. “And you?”

“I don’t feel anything ever,” said Annie, laughing awkwardly. “Let me get you some breakfast.”

“Just not eggs,” said Nina, hauling herself onto a stool. “I don’t do eggs right now. Plenty of bacon, though.”

“Coming right up,” said Annie, jumping up and gathering food.

Nina looked to where Mitchell was pushing away a plate of bacon and eggs and stared pointedly at him.

He looked chastened and got up, leaning against the counter.

“Uh, Nina, maybe you and George could give me a minute when he gets back?”

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I’ve been reading up, I think I’ve got some answers for you,” he said. “Heard from a friend of mine.”

“Tell me,” said Nina.

He looked uncomfortable.

“Nina, don’t you think we should wait for George? Besides, it’s just hearsay, really.”

“Fine,” Nina growled, resisting the urge to take a swipe at him.

Her hormones were on constant overload these days and she could never tell whether it was just general irritation or true dislike for him that was fueling her rage. It wasn’t just Mitchell. George was often on the receiving end of her anger, rightfully so, she thought. Even Annie was annoying, too bright and perky for Nina to take at the moment.

She ate her breakfast and went about her day, now incredibly dull since she couldn’t work. She did as much work and research about her situation as she could on her own and then put her tired body down for a nap. All she seemed to do these days was sleep, besides driving around to any free clinic within the area that wouldn’t ask questions and would give her checkups. She kept on growing, reinforcing her theory that this pregnancy was influenced by a wolf’s gestation period.

But everyone seemed to tell her the baby was healthy. There weren’t any tails or abnormalities showing on the ultrasound images and Nina had been able to forestall any questions from her old friends at the hospital. It had been a fairly low-key pregnancy so far, if one didn’t count the constant terror of what the child might be.

Nina went to sleep with her usual whirl of questions unanswered and was surprised to find herself woken later by George gently shaking her shoulder. It was dark outside and she squinted in confusion.

“Sorry to wake you,” he said. “Um, Mitchell wanted to talk to us, and you said to never let you sleep more than five hours. I think it was a bit more but I only just got home.”

Nina looked at him. He was still in his scrubs and smelled like it. He was obviously tired, with bags under his eyes, and his body slumped like it usually did when he’d ask her for a backrub. An unexpected pang of sympathy went through her. He’d been amazing the past couple of weeks, she had to admit. He’d been working overtime but still managed to drive her around when she needed him, he got her meals, making sure she was comfortable, and never once complained. At least not to her, she wouldn’t wonder if he did to Mitchell and Annie, but he was behaving beautifully and she couldn’t be more grateful.

It still didn’t mean she was ready to forgive him, but his penitence and attitude were definitely points in his favor. Besides, she missed him. She missed his quirkiness, his warmth in the bed at night, the way her heart skipped when she opened her eyes in the morning and saw his wide open mouth on the pillow. She missed being able to trust him.

Sighing, she got out of bed and made a trip to the loo before going downstairs to join the others.

Mitchell was sitting at the table, surrounded by papers and books. Nina raised her eyebrows and sat down.

“Where’s Annie?” she asked.

“Out,” said Mitchell, frowning. “Didn’t say where.”

Nina could have sworn there was an undercurrent of panic in Mitchell’s voice, but he didn’t look up, still concentrating on scribbling on a piece of paper.

“Was there a point to this little get together?” she finally asked, “or did you simply want us to judge your handwriting?”

“Right, sorry,” said Mitchell, putting his pencil down.

George leaned against the back of a chair, hovering above them with an anxious air.

“What did you find out?” he asked.

“I heard from Carl,” said Mitchell. “He’s really the only vampire I would trust with this information.”

“Right, the one who murdered his lover,” said Nina. “Yeah, very trustworthy.”

“He’s a good man,” said Mitchell, almost as if to convince himself as well as Nina. “He made mistakes, but he’d never betray you.”

“I’m suddenly comforted,” said Nina, but she let it drop.

She still bore in mind the memory of a frank conversation over shepherd’s pie, and it had been the very fact of Carl’s remorse that had helped lead her to her decision to leave. To keep from falling into the same trap she was currently living in, complacency, compliance with the supernatural and the gray areas they lived in.

“Carl’s older than I am,” continued Mitchell. “He’s traveled more, paid more attention. He’s not one of the Old Ones, not yet, but he’s almost there. He told me where I could find some books and he gave me the word of mouth legends he could remember.”

“What are they?” asked George.

“Bare in mind this is a paraphrase of my own coming from vampires,” Mitchell warned. He picked up the paper in front of him. “The Old Ones warn that lycos have long been envious of the power and immortality of vampires. They are desperate to grab that for themselves. Since the only time they are stronger than vampires is in their wolf state, a child created during that time would be imbued with the wolf’s natural strength and ferocity, heralding a new species, one that does not have the limitations other werewolves have. The bite of this new werewolf would pass on its limitless strength to its victims, including any werewolves it bit, thereby creating an almost instantaneous transference in the power struggle between werewolves and vampires.”

Mitchell finished reading and put the paper down, rubbing his temples.

“What the hell does that even mean?” asked Nina. “That’s pretty much what you already told us.”

“Be fair,” said George, “I mean, if I were a vampire, that would actually make sense to me, to kill werewolves because anytime they got together it would be a threat, like slaves rising up to overpower their masters.”

“Great, now we’re slaves,” said Nina.

“George is right,” said Mitchell. “Now, I guarantee you that new vampires don’t get handed down this little legend word for word in some kind of orientation; that would incite chaos and spread panic. What we are told is how stupid lycos are, how pathetic, how weak, how envious, that we should always take the opportunity to humiliate and kill them if we can. We say things like, ‘never let lycos inherit the earth.’ That’s why Seth and his mates couldn’t help but try and kill you that night, George. It’s why there used to be fighting rings where we’d capture lycos and make them fight each other on the full moon, or get humans and make them fight the lycos.”

“You are sick,” said Nina, feeling like she wanted to throw up.

“We’re not the nicest bunch of people,” said Mitchell, his voice sad. “I’m just trying to explain why. Now, this doesn’t have to be true, I mean, this is only what vampires have feared would happen. Our own explanation for something that probably happened a thousand years ago.”

“But you think it’s true,” said George, pulling his glasses off.

Mitchell sighed and leaned back.

“Everything I’d read or heard about normal werewolves having children leads me to think they can’t. The baby always dies during a transformation. Given the proof of Nina’s very obviously healthy child, it makes me think something is different in your situation.”

“We could have just gotten lucky,” said Nina. “Or maybe this next transformation will…kill it.”

“Nina,” said George.

“Well,” she said, trying to hold back her tears as she thought about the possibility, “it might.”

Mitchell shrugged.

“I might think so, but Carl sent me this,” he said, picking up a book off the table. “It’s got a photo of the oldest written record of some tribe living in what’s now Eastern Europe and it appears to be written by a werewolf.”

He slid it across the table and Nina gingerly picked it up. George peered over her shoulder. Mitchell had earmarked a few pages and she opened to them. The picture was clear though the words within it were smeared and ruined by time in many places. The text was tiny and written in a language she couldn’t understand, but a translation of the text was next to it.

It is our duty…right to take this step…The blood takers can no longer have the earth. The ritual is set for the next moon…blood…The words…An attack…We are success…We must run…Our sadness…the sky…A hope is left…Follow our example…the blood carries the way. We will find revenge against the blood takers. Our power looses the bindings placed…it. We are to keep trying…try…keep the secret. Only we know…the blood takers…scared at last. Bravery and anger….fuel the heart…to save us…make us str…we wil…

“Bollocks,” said Nina softly.

If she wasn’t already a werewolf she’d have a nice long chuckle about how far the human race had come, but as it was, she didn’t have anything but belief and fear stirring inside her.

“I’m sorry,” said Mitchell.

“What does this mean?” asked George. “I mean, I can read it, it’s-it’s-it’s really there. The translator got it a bit wrong, but I’m pretty sure the essence is there. So now what? What do we do? What do we do?”

“Calm down,” said Mitchell. “The only people who know about this live in this house. I mean, Carl knows I was asking, he’ll probably think of you two, but I didn’t mention anything and I trust him.”

“Daisy knows I’m pregnant,” said Nina dully.

“Mitchell, that’s true!” squawked George.

“Daisy doesn’t put any stock in legends and she was too young to get the actual story,” said Mitchell. “I doubt Ivan ever said anything to her. Cara certainly doesn’t know anything.”

“Herrick…” said George.

“Isn’t really Herrick anymore,” said Mitchell.

“But he’s out there,” said Nina.

“That’s not my fault, is it?” snapped Mitchell, then leaned forward. “I’m sorry.” He was quiet with some internal struggle for a moment before speaking again. “Look, there’s nothing we can do about that. Okay? We just keep this quiet. We have the baby, we watch it, don’t let it bite anyone, and go from there.”

“I can’t think about this right now,” said Nina, standing up slowly.

Her brain was cart wheeling inside her head and she wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and pretend this was all a dream. Something like this should never happen to anyone.

“Nina, do you need help?” asked George.

“No,” she said. She didn’t want the reminder of him right now; this was his fault in so many ways. “I’ll be fine. I just need to…”

Annie popped into the room and went straight for Mitchell, placing a huge smack on his lips. She turned around and then froze upon seeing George and Nina standing there.

“Um, hi,” she said. “So, um-”

“Oh, just say it and get it over with,” said Nina.

This definitely wasn’t the worst thing that could happen anymore.

"All right, we're kind of…" mumbled Mitchell lamely.

"An item!" exclaimed Annie, jumping slightly, grabbing Mitchell’s hand.

He slid his arm around her waist.

"Yeah."

"Sorry," Annie said, “it’s just new.”

George, already strung out, thus all too apt to overreact, looked relieved and happy.

"It's amazing! You're a couple. We’re going to be parents. High five!"

The three of them lunged together and performed some kind of weird three-way high five that Nina’s brain just couldn’t process at that particular moment.

"And you don't find it weird?" asked Annie, looking at Nina.

George answered instead.

"I find it's the most natural thing in the world. Sure we all have our little idiosyncrasies. But ultimately it's about two people finding each other and having a happy and normal relationship."

Nina rolled her eyes and left.

“Nina,” called Annie behind her.

“Annie, wait,” said Mitchell, “let me tell you what happened.”

Their voices faded behind Nina as she made her laborious way up the stairs and to the attic. She locked the door behind her and lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, the text she’d read swimming in front of her eyes.

***

Mitchell paced around his room trying to decide what to do. He’d been dithering all week and now today was here, a day followed by a full moon. He couldn’t decide what to do. Nina was staying in the cellar tonight and George was set to go out to the woods. Mitchell wasn’t sure where he should go. Where would be safe?

He’d been staying away from Herrick the last few days, but he knew he was close, so close to finding the bastard inside those vacant eyes. If he did that, well, then he could find out the secret of immortality, but he’d bring back a Herrick who knew about George and Nina’s baby. The closer the full moon got, the more he was tempted to find someone about to die in the hospital and bring them to Herrick who was slower to refuse blood these days, the desire inherent in his makeup overcoming his current persona’s distaste.

Mitchell went downstairs and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. George and Annie were in there, Annie laughing at something George said. Mitchell couldn’t help but smile. He’d been so tired the past week but he’d also had Annie. Annie with her enthusiasm and sincerity and genuine ability to make the people around her better. And she was his. She’d given herself to him and he still didn’t really know why. She wouldn’t talk about that night, which made him nervous. But he knew something was going on and that made him anxious to be alive and around to help deal with it. Having a taste of something good, something separate from the hunger, it was addicting, and he didn’t want to risk losing it.

He’d go to Herrick’s, get what he wanted, then stake him. That was the plan; save his life and protect his friends. Who said you couldn’t have the best of both worlds? With a silent apology to George and Nina, Mitchell left, his mind made up.

When Mitchell got to the house he found Herrick sitting in the dark rambling.

"You say I'm a vampire,” he told the ceiling. “Like the story by Byron. It is bewildering, isn't it? I can…I could hear Nina's blood throb and pound through her veins. I am…hunger. That is what defines me. Hunger is the length and breadth of me now. I have these images in here…dark, dark desires and I can't sleep. If I'm the victim of a conspiracy to drive me mad, I confess it is working."

Daisy leaned against the doorjamb.

“Wee lamb’s been going on like that for awhile. I think you’re getting to him.”

“You bored yet?” Mitchell asked.

“I drove way past bored a long time ago,” Daisy said. “Lucky for you Cara takes a lot of looking after.”

“You getting maternal?” Mitchell asked.

“Absolutely not,” said Daisy. “Once was enough. I’m off when this is done, I need wind and change. I’ll find myself a few playthings and we’ll get along just fine.”

Daisy left and Mitchell turned to face Herrick who shrunk away at the sight of him.

"Listen up; it's a fool moon tonight. Tell me how you did it, how did you survive that werewolf attack?"

"You keep asking me this. These are riddles,” said Herrick, so innocent and truthful it made Mitchell sick.

He sprang forward, grasping Herrick by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the floor.

"I haven't got time for this. The old Herrick knows the answers so we need to find him. Now! I know you're in there, you old bastard, I can see you sniggering behind his eyes. I know you can hear me."

"Stop this, stop this! I don't know what it is you want from me."

Mitchell kept trying, but gradually, he came to accept what would need to happen to bring Herrick back.

"There's only one way to bring you back. But I won't do that,” Mitchell whispered, resigned. “Not yet."

He went into the kitchen, defeated after only a few minutes. He didn’t know why he kept coming here to torture himself. He couldn’t do what needed to be done and he wouldn’t let Daisy or Cara. But he was close to doing so.

“Cara out there sulking?” Daisy asked idly.

Mitchell stopped and listened.

“I can’t hear her at all.”

“Maybe she finally got sick of waiting,” said Daisy, shrugging. “You certainly are taking your sweet time about fixing this problem.”

“If you’d just tell me the secret I could be out of your hair,” said Mitchell.

“I don’t even know it, love,” said Daisy. “I helped, but it was little baby Cara doing all the steps.”

“He entrusted that…to her,” said Mitchell in disgust. “I was his right hand man for decades and yet he tells her his secrets.”

“If you think about it, it’s actually a compliment to you,” said Daisy.

“What do you mean?”

“He was going to fight you,” said Daisy like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He had to consider the fact that he might die, at your hands, so he had to tell someone. He didn’t have anyone he could trust, no, not anymore, but there was dumb, loyal Cara, who didn’t know any better and she was locked under his sway, determined to see him come back if she could.”

“I guess,” said Mitchell, churning that over in his mind.

A loud cry and crunching sound interrupted them. They smelled the blood at the same time, their eyes going black without any conscious effort.

Mitchell ran for the front room but he was too late. Cara stood, beaming with success in the doorway while the body of a woman was sprawled across the floor. Herrick was crouched over her, greedily drinking, oblivious to anything else happening.

“What have you done?” Mitchell said, though a part of him was rejoicing that even though he hadn’t done it, it had been done.

He still crossed the room and pulled Herrick off, flinging him backward. Mitchell fought to keep from crouching down and finishing the woman himself. He put his fingers down to feel for a pulse, carefully avoiding looking at her. She was dead.

“You were too slow and weak,” said Cara. “You think I don’t think, but it come to me, flashing in my head, what needed doing and I done it. Now watch our king rise in glory!”

A growling Herrick kept trying to push past Mitchell who was frozen next to the woman, desperately fighting to keep from bending down and drinking. Slowly Herrick quieted, his posture straightening, the look on his blood smeared face becoming clearer.

“Herrick?” asked Mitchell quietly.

A slow smile spread across Herrick’s face.

“Mitchell, Mitchell, Mitchell. We meet again.”

Cara pushed past Mitchell to grasp a hold of Herrick.

“You’re well,” she said. “Oh, my darling, I healed you.”

“Don’t touch me,” said Herrick sharply.

“Don’t you know me, dearest?” asked Cara, putting her hands on his face.

Herrick pulled back from her.

“I know full well who you are. Now get back where you belong.”

Cara stepped back, blank face confused and pained.

“But we are- I'm your Cara, the Chosen One. Together we are divinity!"

Herrick smiled, his face cruel, and Mitchell could well remember having that smile directed at him, especially in his early stages as a vampire. He couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Cara. If once Herrick decided he didn’t need you anymore, he was ice and brutality.

"You're filth. I can smell your stink and it turns my stomach."

Cara stepped back again as if he’d physically hit her. Tears filled her eyes and she held out her hands.

"But I'm nothing without you,” she whispered.

"Well, then, you are nothing,” Herrick answered and silence filled the air.

Mitchell held out his hand to Cara.

“Come on,” he said, “come away.”

“Back to the kitchen, baby doll,” said Daisy.

Cara looked from them to Herrick and then rushed to the fireplace and grabbed a piece of kindling and thrust it into her heart.

“Cara, no,” said Mitchell, running for her, but she was already dust.

Herrick laughed merrily.

“That’s one way to get rid of the help,” he said. “Well, then, how are you two? I appear to be whole again, more’s the luck. What have I missed?”

“Do you remember the last month?” asked Mitchell, still in shock about Cara.

“Vividly,” said Herrick. “You tried to stake me.”

“Just returning the favor,” said Mitchell, struggling for control of himself.

“Well, I’m not inclined to help you for it,” said Herrick, inspecting his clothing and wrist manacles. “I don’t suppose one of you could help me with these?”

“Come here,” said Mitchell, pulling Daisy back to the kitchen. “You can’t let him out,” he said.

“Why ever not?” asked Daisy in a fake innocent voice. “I don’t have the time to take care of him and my concern was Cara.”

“And vengeance on me,” said Mitchell.

“There is that,” said Daisy, grinning wickedly.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” said Mitchell.

“I think I know exactly what I’m doing,” said Daisy. She pointed outside. “Moon’s rising soon.” Mitchell cursed and went back into the front room only to find it empty, the manacles neatly curled on the table, the dead woman lying there, blood congealing on her body. “Oops,” said Daisy. “Looks like if you want that secret you’ll have to run for it.”

Mitchell didn’t have enough foul words to say at that moment. His choice appeared made for him. He had to go after Herrick because he had no doubt Herrick was going after Nina. If he got there before the wolves transformed there would be little they could do to stop him. Even so Mitchell would be putting himself in the way of getting killed by a werewolf. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end. Either way twisted his insides with pain but he’d rather die trying to save them than any other way, especially since this was all his fault.

Mitchell took off running for the house, Daisy following in his footsteps lazily.