Something in me, dark and sticky
All the time it's getting strong
No way of dealing with this feeling
Can't go on like this too long
- Peter Gabriel, "Digging in the Dirt"
I left Rodney's house rather than destroy anything else. I took to the air and flew to the cave. It was an irrational hope, but still a hope, that she had gone there for some reason. However, as soon as I landed at the mouth of the cave, I knew I had hoped in vain.
Everything was just as we'd left it before going off and finding her grandparents killed, then going off to fight Hennessey. And that in itself was the problem: everything was as we'd left it.
Suddenly I couldn't stand to look at the couch where I'd confessed my feelings for her and she'd said, "kiss me." I broke it into pieces and destroyed it down to the frame.
Same thing when I went into the bedroom. The bed that we'd shared – sometimes with her in a panic, but most of the time with us in passion, couldn't exist. I couldn't bear to look at it so I sunk my hands deeply into the padding, over and over again, until it looked like it was snowing. Finally, it was just a shell of springs.
But I still had pent up rage in me. I pummeled the walls as fast as I could, feeling my bones shatter and heal just to shatter again, my efforts taking chips out of the limestone.
I had to get myself together. This wasn't helping anything and it surely wasn't helping me find her. However, when I saw the screen on her little "dressing area" my hurt was so great that I destroyed it, too. But this destruction revealed a benefit – a few of her dresses that I'd left behind when I went to go get her. It was only two or so days ago, but it seemed like forever. Now, though, I had material with her scent on it – scent that might help me find her. I grabbed them and stuffed them in a bag I found in the kitchen area.
I made my way back to the front of the cave and sat on the edge of the destroyed sofa and pulled out my cell phone.
"Charles."
"Crispin! I've been trying to get hold of you, we all have. The entire supernatural world is abuzz with talk of you destroying Hennessy and his whole operation! What on Earth is going on?"
"Charles, sometime I'll fill you in on the details. Right now I need you to do something for me."
"Of course, of course, anything you need. You know you only have to ask."
"I'm going to send a picture from my phone to yours. Print it out if you need to, or forward it to as many people in your line as you can. Send it to Mencheres, too, and ask him to do the same. But let's try to keep this quiet from Ian for now, right? In fact, let's try to keep this as quiet and low key as possible – just a 'random vampire searching for his property that has run off, needs to have her memory erased' type of thing."
Sounding puzzled, Charles said, "Alright. Are you going to tell me why I'm doing this? And why aren't we telling Ian of this?"
"Because she left, Charles. She's gone. I know it's something to do with the government, but she's left. And we're not telling Ian because he's a cold-hearted sod who doesn't believe in love, and I don't want him finding her first and ruining everything I've worked so hard for."
After a moment, Charles just said, "Blimey, Crispin, I…"
"Just… don't, please. I appreciate the sentiment and I know you of all people know how I feel, so I know you know that words are useless right now." I choked up for a moment, then got control back of my voice enough to go on. "She left a note, and it sounded a bit like she didn't have any choice but to go with them. So as of now, I'm looking for her."
"Crispin, I do have one government contact. He's low level, but he does have access to some databases, things like that. Wants to be turned, so any time the government tries to document one of us, he makes sure all the information just vanishes. Without it being traced back to him."
"Charles, that's brilliant. Absolutely brilliant! Have him run a search on the following names:
Catherine Kathleen Crawfield
Catherine Crawfield
Cat Crawfield
Cathy Crawfield
Justina Crawfield
Oh, and Danny Milton and Daniel Milton, too."
"Danny Milton?" Charles asked.
"Don't ask", I growled.
I sent him a picture I had snapped with my phone of Kitten when we were out on a job. She was turned towards the door, seeking out our mark, but the picture was just of her lovely face.
The search was on.
