Author's Note: So I'm back after a slight hiatus. I'm really excited about this project. This is part of my series, I guess (the rest of which is listed in my profile), it's like a direct sequel to "It's About Time!" You might want to go read some of the stories in that one (I recommend "Darkness Falls" as a jump-off point. But I won't give much away about this one aside from the disclaimer-
Disclaimer: The characters of "CSI:NY" belong to Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS. The characters of "Supernatural" and the "Metallicar" are property of Eric Kripke and The WB. "Mick St. John", "Josef Kostan," and the characters of "Moonlight," belong to Ron Koslow, Trevor Munson and CBS.
Chapter One: Oddities
301 Waverly Place
New York City, NY
He sat on the bed next to her, watching her. Every now and then, he would reach over and gently remove a stray piece of her auburn hair that fell over her pale face. The only sounds in the room where her gentle breathing and the low hum of the equipment keeping her alive.
That had been keeping her alive for the past fifty years.
He closed his eyes, remembering her back then. Back when she was more alive than dead, when her eyes lit up when she laughed, when her cheeks would flush as the his teasing would make her blush. The look of delight in her eyes the day he had given her the heart-shaped locket he now kept in his vest pocket.
Every now and then he would whisper, "I'm sorry, Sarah," or "I love you, Sarah."
Sometimes he wondered if when she woke up, if she would remember him the same way he remembered everything about her.
She would recognize him, that was certain. He hadn't aged in fifty years.
Technically speaking, he hadn't aged in 400 years.
He reached across the bed, grasped her warm hand with his ice-cold one. He ran his fingers over hers. Every time he did, he wished she would return the gesture. He wished she would wake up.
He wished a lot of things, when it came to her.
The sound of the front door opening two rooms away caught his ear. He assumed it was Paula, the housekeeper.
Except the footfalls coming toward the room didn't match hers.
He could hear a heartbeat- steady...strong. Paula always seemed to flutter when she was around him, as if she could tell there was more to him than met the eye. She'd been working for him for five years...all the longer someone could work for him before realizing that he never aged. Reluctantly, he released Sarah's hand, let it rest gently on her stomach. He stood up, every sense in tune with the space around him.
He wouldn't let whoever this was anywhere near Sarah. He got up off the bed, making his way toward the door. The heartbeat on the other side was getting louder. The intruder must have been close.
He opened the door. Someone was standing in the room. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded with a low growl. The tone he used usually sent most of his staff running in the other direction. A small part of him was confused. No one knew about this place. No one knew what lay in the other room. No one in this city knew about him. No one but Paula...and Sarah.
And yet the way the intruder carried himself, the way he stared him down with no fear in his eyes, his posture, or his heartbeat...the way he said, "Someone who knows what you really are," as he raised the gun...suggested that perhaps he hadn't hid his secrets as well as he thought he had.
"Bullets won't stop me. You're only gonna piss me off," he hissed at the intruder. "Not that you haven't already by breaking and entering."
The intruder fired anyway. Two slugs tore into his chest, one just below his ribs, the other just above his heart. He snarled in pain, realizing these weren't your average, everyday nine millimeter shells.
"These bullets will."
He could feel it entering his system the way most people could feel a bad cold virus coming on- slow, but deliberate. It hurt like hell. And before he could muster enough strength to counterattack, the intruder was two steps from him, with something in his hand. "Go to hell," the intruder said to him, bringing the wooden stake above his head-
He snarled, coming at the intruder in a last-ditch attempt-
-and the intruder slammed the wooden stake into his heart.
He collapsed to the floor, his eyes staring, but not dead.
The intruder knelt over him, pulled a long, silver blade from his coat.
One quick hack, that's all it'll take. Somehow, he never imagined going out like this. He thought of the woman in the room next door. Sarah...I love you.
The front door opened. "Mr. Kostan?" Paula called.
The intruder jerked, not expecting someone. "I'm not finished with you," he whispered. He got up, disappeared through Sarah's bedroom.
From the floor, he could hear Paula come to investigate, heard her scream when she found him on the floor. She came over to him, panicking and crying. Not me...go... Paula ran into Sarah's bedroom. He could hear a low, monotone drone from one of the machines.
No! Nonono...Sarah...no...
He heard Paula dial 911-he must have left his cell on the night table. This is not good. This is so very not good. He also heard her find the number for his only emergency contact, and dial long distance to Los Angeles.
One half hour later...
There was something peculiar about this whole situation.
Dr. Sheldon Hawkes donned a pair of latex gloves and surveyed the room one last time. Something just didn't seem right. He sat his crime scene kit on the floor. "Hey, Angell," he said. "What happened here?"
Detective Jessica Angell flipped her notebook open. "According to the housekeeper, Paula Sanchez," she said, jerking a thumb at the woman, "she came back from shopping, found him on the floor with the stake through his heart."
"What's with the medical equipment in the next room?" Hawkes recognized all the pieces of machinery. They were designed for life support, for keeping someone alive for the foreseeable future.
"Paula says that a woman named Sarah Whitley was on life support in that room."
"Odd," Hawkes said, "Not too many people have the kind of cash to keep someone on life support in a hospital, let alone their own home."
"Apparently, Mr. Josef Kostan-the dead body?" Lindsay Monroe informed him as she came into the room. "He's got that kind of cash. Like, Tom Cruise gets his own ultrasound machine kind of cash."
Hawkes studied the body. "So we've got two questions to answer," he said. "One-who is Sarah Whitley, and why was she on life support in that bedroom? And two-" here he gestured to the body of Josef Kostan, "Who kills someone with a wooden stake?"
Lindsay snapped pictures of the body, focusing on the wound. "That's three questions," she couldn't resist.
Hawkes shook his head. "You're certainly at a lot more chipper since you got married," he told her.
Lindsay glanced at the wedding band on her hand and smiled. "Yeah," she admitted. "Things are a lot happier these days," she said. "You know, it's a full moon tonight," she noted. "People say the crazies come out when the moon is full."
"This is New York City, Linds," Hawkes pointed out with a smile. "The crazies are out all the time." Except this one might be a little crazier than our usual...could be an interesting couple of days.
Danny Messer turned over in his sleep. He had just come off the night shift, and was looking forward to a couple hours of shut eye before his wife came home from work.
But sleep wasn't coming.
He was following Lindsay and another man, walking down the street in the middle of the night. ("Not that these things would ever happen in the daylight, he thought to himself.) He tailed behind them, keeping his wife directly in his sights. As they rounded a corner, he bumped into someone, a crowd of giggling girls. By the time he pushed through them, rounded the corner himself...everything had gone from a calm night to chaos. Lindsay and the other man were frozen in the alley, facing a man with a crossbow (Who the hell uses a crossbow?) which was loaded and aimed directly at the man's heart. "You're one of them," he hissed. Without warning, he fired, and the man fell to the ground, the bolt sticking from his chest. And then the crossbow-wielding man turned to Lindsay. "You both are," he said, and fired at her...
Danny's eyes snapped open.
It's happening again.
Author's Note II: Criticism is usually warranted, and most always appreciated. I know vampires have been done a thousand times over (Thanks, "Twilight", lol) but I started a story a while back with Mick and Josef and lost my muse, so now they're back. This story's for Michaela Martin, who's been bugging me to write again about two certain supernatural hunters, who shall remain nameless...for now...