Rebirth of the Seer (17 page)

“I read your mind in the other room. Yo
u shall have to be more careful. W
hatever you did to me seems to have made that task easier.”

“That was the idea.” As she looked up at me, I caught a slight wave of trepidation coming from her, met with the sense that her mental walls had
been erected that much higher.
I furrowed my brow, my smile wavering. For as much as I had been an open book, there were thoughts Monica still wished to keep from me. I ignored it as much as possible while boarding the train and allowing the conductor to lead us to our seats.

Once the human left our presence and permitted us to shut the door to our private quarters, I stripped off my coat. “Chicago,” I said, procuring a hangar and threading it into shoulders of my garment. I hung it up and detached my katana from my side. “I had often fancied traveling when I was yet human, but figured those days would come much later.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day, Flynn.” Monica stripped off her coat as well, albeit much more ginger
ly
than I had. I took it from her and saw to the business of hanging it while she settled in one of the narrow seats our closet-sized compartment boasted. My watcher yawned, shimmying in her seat as though attempting to find some comfort. “I have contacts in the Windy City that’ve off
ered us a place to stay. We
… sort of have to avoid telling them that you’re a vampire.”

I settled
in the seat opposite her. “How do you propose to do that?”

“I don’t know, I was figuring we could tell them you were just sick.”

Her eyes shut. T
he corner of her mouth curled in a grin and I groaned as I reached for the curtains and pulled them closed. “I hope that is not your plan.”

“So what if it is?” Monica shifted again. “Honestly, they wouldn’t be expecting me to consort with a vampire after what happened to Lydia. And they especially wouldn’t expect you to be her killer, so we’ll get a stay of execution for a while.”

“We are consorting now?”

“Don’t try your luck, buddy.”

I managed a smirk, but noticed her wince and could not sustain the smile for very long. Concern shrouded the bit of merriment we had managed to conjure in the room. “Are you alright?” I asked.

Monica sighed and opened her eyes again. “It’s hard to get comfortable in these damn seats.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” I patted the cushion underneath me. “This folds out into a bed.”

“Lying flat makes it even worse.”

“You could lean against me.”

She furrowed her brow,
studying me while I perked an eyebrow
back
at her. Her eyes darted to the sparse amount of room on my left side and I shifted over, following the implicit request to see how readily we would fit on the same bench. At first, I thought she would decline, but then she did a curious thing.

Monica stood,
keeping
me in her gaze as she crossed the short divide between us. I lifted an arm and she sat beside me, stiff at first, then relaxing gradually until I felt her curl against me. My hand settled onto her shoulder
first, but
slid downward until it settled near the crook of her elbow. I thought I felt her tense again, but
for
all I knew, perhaps I was the one finally letting myself be stilled.

Her head rested on my chest. I listened to her pulse and pretended not to notice how warm her body felt, pressed close to my much cooler torso. As she placed her palm above my silent heart, I felt an alien sentimentality weave its way around my thoughts, far more taken by the gesture than I even dared admit to myself. She whispered, “Thank you,” to me and I nodded, not certain how to respond except to say, “You are welcome.” The silence which followed was calmer than any I had ever experienced before.

The train started moving a short while afterward. I heard the cadence of her breaths
change slightly
, and smiled when I realized she had fallen asleep. My hand lifted from her arm and brushed back the blonde locks framing one side of her face, a contrast against her otherwise dark hair. The woman in my embrace looked more than beautiful.
I
forced myself to look away lest another second threaten to distract me.

My thoughts shifted back to our destination.

I mused on the matter of journeys, on excursions both literal and figurative.
The
next page of this destiny I now embodied
lay
before me
, but there seemed to be another path
emerging
, born from this peculiar relationship I shared with Monica. I could not be certain when it happened, but something had changed between us, forcing a tighter bond to knit itself into place. Something in my cold heart had met a thaw. A fissure had formed in an otherwise solid suit of armor. It seemed to have brought her closer, but she was not alone.

Truth be told, i
t had brought me closer to her as well.

Partners In Crime

“
It’s bullshit to think of friendship
and romance as being different
.
They’re not.
They’re just variations of the same love.
”

Rachel Cohn

Monica and I were greeted by a message upon arriving in Chicago
the next evening. No sooner did we step
from the train than
an announcement chim
ed over the speakers, bringing
my watcher from a sedate
stroll to a complete stop
.

I perked an eyebrow. “Why did we pause?” I asked.

She sighed, her ey
es darting around the
area. “That was my name.”

Scanning the vicinity
, I neit
her saw a human
looking
in our direction, nor recalled
‘Monica Alexander’ echoing
over the loudspeaker
. My gaze found hers again after my quick examination. “Are you certain of this?”

“Yeah, sorry.” She flashed an apologetic grin. “Wesley and I came up with a pseudonym for me before we left. Just in case. He didn’t want to give us away by yelling, ‘Monica’ all over the place.”

I huffed, a smirk touching the corners of my mouth as we diverted our course and headed for the concierge. “Wesley?”

“My friend here, yes.”

“What kind of a name is Wesley?”

“Oh, stop it. It’s not like that.” Monica winked and took hold of my arm, leaving me somewhat confused in the process. I fought the compulsion to ask what she thought I meant, and decided against it once we joined a crowded mass of humans. The drone of several distinct conversations blended into a cacophony which made conversation next to impossible. As it was, Monica had to shout over the commotion to ask the concierge why she had been summoned.

He slipped her a note. I watched him point away from the area and made out the words ‘friend’ and ‘combination’ before she nodded and nudged us away. As we approached a collection of lockers, she opened the piece of paper in her hand and search
ed
for the number which had been jotted down. “Why did your cohort leave something inside a locker?” I asked as I aided in the quest.

Monica sighed. “Wesley has a hard time sitting still. He probably got tired of waiting and dragged his buddies off to go exploring. I swear sometimes the man is five years old.”

My eyebrow lifted again, an amused expression on my face as I split my attention between searching and stealing glances at her. “You are certain the two of you do not have a history?”

In my periphery, I swore I saw h
er wince. “Not the two of us
. He knows my family, though, so I guess you could say I’m used to him.” She bent first, then sto
od straight and smiled. “
Here we go. Let’s see what the bastard left for us.”

Nodding, I lingered back a few paces while Monica studied her piece of paper and lifted her hand to the combination lock. It took two attempts, but a minute later, the lock popped open and enabled Monica to free the contents from inside. An envelope contained a fair amount of money, a set of keys, and another handwritten note. “What is it?” I asked as my watcher read the longer missive.

She shook her head. “Just like I figured, he couldn’t sit still.” Her eyes remained set on the words before peering up at me as she folded the paper. “Instructions for the trains an
d where we’re staying
. His parents gave him more dollars than they did sense. He rents at least two places wherever he’s at to give himself a few options.”

“Options?” My brow remained furrowed, even when she slipped the contents of the locker into her coat pocket and took hold of my arm again.

The look on her face fell slightly. “You can take the man out of the Order,” she said, “But you can’t take the Order out of the man.” The statement hung in the space between us, an unwelcomed harbinger I chose to brush away. We had endured enough in the past week for me not to seek out demons and the prospect of settling in somewhere for a time bore more promise than dwelling on cryptic remarks. So I painted a smile on my face which became more genuine as the night wore on.
After helping my watcher navigate the Chicago transit system, we arrived at our borrowed apartment just past midnight. I tossed the duffle bag onto the floor and unstrapped my katana before settling in a chair, relieved.

The space was hardly posh, but it was spacious enough for me to question what sort of money Wesley’s family possessed. Rugs adorned the hardwood floors and a plush couch
complimenting the chair in which I
sat
had been positioned
in the middle of a modest-sized living room. I stole a g
limpse at his bookcase, scanning
the titles of books ranging from the occult to Edgar Allan Poe. A framed print of Seattle, Washington hung on the wall behind a stand which housed a large television set. “Home sweet home,” I murmured as I
stood and
stripped off my coat.

Monica had retreated into the kitchen and
was
now sp
eaking
on the phone. “Yes, we found it just fine
,
” was followed by a, “No, we don’t need you to come over and check in on us – we’ll be alright.” She paused to listen. “No, I just need some time to rest. I was injured pretty badly a week ago.” A sigh. “I’ll explain when we get together. Honestly, I’m mending right now – hitting the healing spells while popping medication. I’ll be right as rain, just give me a few days.”

I perked an eyebrow at the exchange,
draping my coat across the back of the chair, but hesitating in sitting again
. Monica chuckled softly. “Yeah, you’re still just as fucking incorrigible as you used to be,” she said. “Try not to get yourself killed out there. I’ll call you in a couple of days and we can all meet so
mewhere. I call dibs on pizza. E
veryone says the stuff around here is orgasmic.
” There was a brief pause, followed by,
“
Thanks, Wes. See you soon
,
then.”

The receiver clicked into place and Monica emerged from seclusion, untying the red scarf from around her neck as she strolled into the living room. I could not help but notice the manner in which she held herself. “Hitting the healing spells?” I asked.

The corner of her mouth quirked in a reluctant grin. She slid the satin from its place and draped crimson red across my black coat. “What use is it having a few magical tricks if you don’t put them to use?”

“Is that – how do the members of your Order put it – in accordance with the natural order?”
A smirk blossomed on my face. I sat on the arm of the couch,
folding my hands atop my lap.

Monica rolled her eyes and wagg
ed a finger at me. “Don’t get cute on me, Flynn, someone needs to protect your ass from getting thrown to the wolves. You
’re the one who
decide
d to save me from the Council. T
hat mea
ns you have to put up with me, s
pells and all.”

I sighed. “I shall do my best to endure.”

“Cheeky bastard.” Monica swatted my shoulder as she walked close to me, but leaned close before I could respond. If I had chosen that moment to inhale, I might have caught my breath when I felt her warm lips touch my skin, precisely at the spot where my chin swept beneath my ear. As it was, my eyes shut partially, and a shiver ran the length of my spine. “I’m going to get some rest,” she said as she stood straight and motioned away. “Try to sleep, too. I might hit you up for a walk tomorrow evening when you wake.”

“As you wish
,” I said, not even glancing in her direction. Counting her steps all the way to the bedroom, I listened to the door creak open and swallowed hard the moment it clicked shut. W
ithin that
span of seconds, I entertained
a hundred mental images, none of which I dared replay. Instead, I slid onto one of the couch cushions and rested my head against the back, reclining in such a way as to stare up at the ceiling.

‘
You ha
ve not bedded anyone
since Sabrina
,
’ I thought to myself, being mindful to speak the confession behind a mental wall. ‘
You have not bitten anyone since the night before Robin’s death. Close contact is muddying your thoughts and you need to focus
.
’ Bringing both hands to my face, I rubbed my eyes and ran my fingers through the locks of my hair.

I tried to think of anything else. My hair was getting long and I was due for a haircut. I should be mindful to locate the nearest hospital or blood bank, so I could stay fed while in Chicago. I
would need to clean my katana. The ceiling bore a few cracks. W
ould switching on the television provide a proper distraction? No matter what I conjured, though, I could not stop the fantasies from playing. Her creamy white skin flooded my mind, the veins in her neck almost as alluring of a sight as the path downward to her breasts. If she was any other human, I would have liked to lay her down, remove her clothing in a slow, deliberate manner
while relishing the moments of holding back
fangs straining to descend. I struggled to remember the taste of her blood and a primal, urgent temptation surged to life. That I could drink from her just once more…

If she was any other human.

“
In your heart, you’ll just keep fooling yourself into thinking you could be better, but this is what you are, Flynn. Nothing but a murderer
.
”

Julian’s words knocked me from the haze and shot me into an upright position. Both hands fell to the couch on either side of me and my eyes met the television, failing to see my reflection in the vacant glass. “I would never harm her,” I whispered harshly. “Not a hair on her head, you bastard.” Still, I frowned and felt the sharp tips of my fangs scratch at my bottom lip. They had slid down without me even knowing it. The vampire clamored from within.

Retracting them, I stood and fetched my coat, snatching it in such an abrupt
manner
it knocked Monica’s scarf down onto the ground. I held my coat in my hands while watching it descend. Delicately, it touched the hardwood floor and I indulged in a steadying breath as I thought of fragile and precious things.

My eyes shut fully as I slid on my coat.

“You do not have the luxury of indulging these thoughts, seer,” I said, threading my arms through the sleeves. My deft fingers swept across each button, securing the coat shut. “Think as an assassin, if you must, but remember you have a mission to accomplish. Leave this nonsense at the door when you return.” With a huff, I headed outside and spent the remainder of the evening scouting around, getting my bearings and liberating a few pints of blood from a local hospital. Three cigarettes and four hours later, I ascended the staircase to the apartment and disappeared inside our new place of hiding.

After refrigerating the blood, I lay down on the couch and noticed my mind no closer to settled than it had been when I departed. Fatigue held me soundly in its throes, though, and no sooner did I switch on the television than I felt myself surrendering to the siren call of dawn. The debate was left unresolved and seemed liable to be for quite a while.

Even if it meant surrendering my more human impulses for the time being.

***

A hand nudged me awake the next evening and a smile greeted me when I woke. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Monica said as my eyes focused on her. “We need to get a few things for this place if I’m going to call it home.”

She continued grinning as I blinked several times and waded into lucidity.
“As you wish,” I said
groggily
, rubbing at my face and
sitting up. T
he television had been turned off and my coat folded neatly on an adjacent chair. The scent of coffee wafted in the air and Monica confessed she had slipped out just before dusk to fetch a cup and a small morsel to eat. “I don’t want to spend
our
cash on take-out, though, so you’re accompanying me to the store.”

The corner of my mouth curled in a grin. “Am I to be your bodyguard now?”

“Yup. Bodyguard, doctor, and seer, rolled into one.” She winked and walked away, making note of my acquisition of blood in such an idle fashion, it almost made me wonder if my habits had desensitized her. I mentioned showering after we returned and she scribbled notes
on
a rudimentary grocery list she had penned. The entire ordeal had gone from frenzied to domestic with such alarming swiftness, I had to stifle a sneer of revulsion as I walked with her to the store.
Still, something about it bore a comfort I had not enjoyed since my days with Lydia.

S
he held onto my arm, just as she had been doing while more infirmed. We admired the sights and scents of Chicago while navigating the city streets and I caught myself chuckling more than once when she pointed out some familiar vestige of humanity that had captured her attention. Her stride had quickened, and while she watched her step at points and winced at others, I could not help but to notice the color which had returned to her
countenance
. By the time we made it back to the apartment, I was carrying brown paper bags without any derision, nearly pleased at how much my aid seemed to
delight
her.