Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal.
Reviews make me shine from the inside out.
The Horseshoe was one of Bermondsey's last surviving dives. Neutral territory from vampire politics, it was a place where they intermingled unbeknownst to the predominantly human establishment. Mediocre reviews and the lack of a web presence, combined with a difficult to locate address, kept the crowds down.
Steven Pyke, currently going by the more modern moniker of Spike, was nervously twirling a beading glass of water. Probably for the best, thought Richard. The beer was often suspect here. As was the tea.
With a quick flick of his wrist the lad checked the phone at his side. The little screen illuminated the shadows of his booth, revealing the untidy state of his normally tidy hair and deepening the hollows of his face. Richard sat down opposite, laying his suit coat aside. Spike looked up in surprise at his appearance with a nervous glance around the rest of the room, "You came."
"Of course. Desperate times and all that. What have you got?"
Spike's blue eyes flickered to his phone, then back to Richard. "They took out Edward in Derry. It was all clean and clapped, same as you found in Bristol."
"And you couldn't have told me this over the telephone because…?" Richard let his annoyance show. Steven Pyke had been trying to wedge his way up the hierarchy even before he had come under Turner and Yorke employment. Such behavior that his maker - a vampire who had been in favour with the Old Ones and now, the Council - irritatingly encouraged. The incident when he "discovered" Henry and his werewolf friends by mere happenstance only being the most recent.
Spike leaned forward to whisper across the table, "Because sir, I smelt something odd. Same scent we caught in Lord Harry's locker. Not a wolf. A human."
Richard raised an eyebrow, "You think -" but the waitress appeared and he paused.
Setting a menu down in front of him, "Anything to drink to get you started off there?"
Richard kept his eyes on his companion across the table, "Just coffee please," he ordered. The server departed to fetch his coffee and he leaned back in the booth. "The same human?"
Spike hesitated, a flash of uncertainty crossing his finely chiseled features before he nodded. "I believe so."
"You don't say," Richard mused, letting the suspicion percolate.
After she parked her car, Allison looked up at the corner brick townhouse that was now her home. For the first time since she had moved in, the windows were dark. Alex and Hal were usually home, or barring that, Tom always beat her back from class and would have started preparations for supper. Tonight, however, she seemed to be on her own. Allison gathered her shoulder bag, shut the car door and started up the walk. She had to rummage on her keychain to find the correct key since she barely had need to use it since moving in. Her housemates were surely still away on Rook's errand, given Hal's message from earlier. And perhaps Tom had merely fallen asleep on the sofa after being out all the night before. Or, perhaps he was uncharacteristically, still out.
As she opened the door and turned on the light, her suspicions were confirmed. The kitchen and living room were empty; the house was quiet. Tom hadn't told her over the phone this morning why he had stayed out all night. Only that he was alright and sorry if she worried. He said they'd talk tonight.
Allison checked her phone in case she had somehow missed a message. Confirming there was none, she noted the time, then climbed the stairs to at least look into Tom's room. It was a silly, human thing to do really. Her senses already told her that she was alone in the house.
Tom's room, awash in a blue glow from the pale light coming in the window, was untouched. Not only was he not here, but Tom hadn't come home at all. His school bag still sat where he had left it yesterday and his unkempt bedding hadn't shifted. Allison could make out the folds where she had curled up late last night, waiting for him. She looked around the room, then closed the door. She had research to do and an argument to formulate a draft for. She sorely wasn't interested in either. All she wanted to do was talk to Tom. Maybe her parents were right. Romantic interests in college were nothing but trouble.
Too late now, she supposed.
Still, she continued upstairs to her room. Unlike Tom's, it was neat and orderly. Not nearly as austere as Hal preferred to keep things, but orderly nonetheless. Her bed was made, clothing folded and put away and books on her shelf. The desk where she organized her coursework and thoughts was stacked with various in-progress projects. Above was her working board where she kept the details and arguments of the trial she had chosen for her term paper. Allison ignored all of it. She set her shoulder bag down and pulled free her laptop. Placing it on the desk, she opened it with the idea of checking her email. Then she would return downstairs to distract herself from waiting for Tom with making supper.
Amidst the usual junk and social media notifications was one actual email. The message had been sent earlier that afternoon, though she supposed with the time difference it had been morning for him.
Greetings Senhorita,
I did not realize from your earlier message that you are English. It will be easiest if we communicate in this way. There is very much so a pack of these creatures here. Any local can tell you to avoid the western outlands on nights when the moon is largest. The touristas travel there to hear the howling. It is most unfortunate that many think the howling comes from the local children, but that is not so. I have seen these creatures first hand and know the truth. These are no children. Our city is home to the Lobisomem, and in kind there are just as many cases of missing persons. I had been looking for my cousin when I saw them. I have not seen my cousin since. Usually, one does not see the Lobisomem and return to tell the tale. You and I are very similar in that regard. My study until now had been of the cultural significance. I was interested in the anthropological aspects of myth. I no longer believe we are dealing with myth.
In fact, I know it to be truth. Perhaps you and I are similar in that regard too.
I am curious of what myth and story you have uncovered in your own country and how it relates to your encounter.
Vinnie
Allison closed the laptop. Given the advancements in the last day, she would need to ponder how best to craft her response. If Vinicius did happen to know about the Lobisomem penchant for explosives, he probably wouldn't just come out and say. She decided to stew on it while starting some pasta.
She was halfway down the stairs when she heard a key in the door and her breath caught, knowing it was Tom. She met him in the foyer, and a brief look of guilt flashed across his features. Something wasn't right. Her senses told her something was off even before she could detect what.
"Where were you? What's going on?" Allison practically attacked him, all her pent up worry turning into irritation at the sight of his sheepish face. "You smell funny." He stood just inside the doorway, clasping his hands. "Tom," Allison started, then saw the mud on his sneakers. "Are you... slaying again?"
"No. Nuthin like that," he shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Then what? Because you're obviously up to something. You don't get a treatment like that on the 95."
"I wasn't on me bus today Allison."
"You can only miss so many days in a term you know, and-"
"I know. It won't be mattering," Tom looked away, feigning a sudden interested in the wallpaper.
"And why not?" Allison demanded. Tom worried at his lip, his brow furrowing. He took a deep breath before answering her.
"I'm not cut out for it is why not."
"Tom - course you are. You're smart! Clever!"
"I know all that. Its just... its not my place. I know it ain't." He stepped forward to take her hand, but faltered. Allison had that look of determination when she was about to launch into a debate. Tom had to stop her before she began, otherwise he'd be done for. He caught her hand and steeled himself, remembering his resolve of the night before. "I know what you'd say. That I'm dead clever an' all and can do anything I put my mind to. Well that's just it. I don't want to. Them classes ain't for me. I'm out of my element and feel useless. Like... a blundering rhino."
Allison furrowed her brow, her glasses tilting. "A rhino?"
"Lemme finish. You're a learned person. You had all this 'fore the the wolf. For me, the woods and killing is all I'd ever known. I'm knowing more now, but there's degrees, you know? You can take a rhino out of the wilds and put him a zoo, but you can't teach him to be something he ain't. Even if he wants to, he'll still always be looking out for fires."
"But you're not a rhino you're a person and-"
"You're right. I'm a person, and people have paths to follow. Mine isn't in class."
Allison wove her fingers through his, pursing her lips in her attempt to understand, "Are you saying you want to quit?"
"I'm saying... I'd already done it. Called on me courses and could still get that deposit back."
"Tom, I don't understand what's happened. Is this because of Hal? You're upset with him so you're going back to slaying vampires?" She cupped his hand, earnest in her concern.
"No - cor' not. Hal never told me not to do any slaying. He just got me thinking 'tis all. Then... I met someone. Last night. Couple o'someones, actually." Tom's gaze fell to their joined hands. "I met a Pack. A real, genuine Pack."
That knocked Allison off of whatever argument she was working up to. She stuttered for a moment, "Wh-wait - you did?"
"Yeah. Werewolves, Irish folks. They're at a car park just past the docks."
Allison slipped free from Tom's grasp, taking a small step back. "Tom, does Rook know about this?"
"They not those Brazilians, so what it matter?"
"Why are they here? You don't think it's funny that suddenly a bunch of Irish werewolves show up out of nowhere? How did they get here? What do they want?" Allison had started wildly gesticulating with her hands.
"Well... by putting their caravan on a boat, I'd imagine. And secondly... me." Tom stated, looking self-conscious.
"You." Allison repeated, not quite sure she understood.
Tom shrugged, "They'd heard of me'n McNair. Wanted to know how we'd done it."
"Done it? Done what?"
"Taken out vampires with a change." Tom leaned against the door and dropped his hands into his pockets again. His guilty look flashed again. Allison knew he felt differently now about killing than he once did. Even if he were still angry with Hal, it wouldn't be enough to drive him into blind slaying. Which was why she didn't understand what he was trying to tell her.
"So you ARE back to slaying," she pressed.
"I didnae say that. Just teaching is all."
"Teaching?!"
"Yeah. See?" Tom, seeming more assured straightened his posture and took a step towards her. "Instead of learning useless stuff I have no care for, I can be teaching folk. I can be helping folk."
"Tom, that's great, really. Course you can help people. But don't you think -" she started and he caught her hands again, stepping close. His large, imploring eyes stopped her thought.
"Really, it comes to this Allison," Tom started, keeping her gaze and rubbing the backs of her hands with his thumbs. "I stayed out last night cuz I couldn't decide how'd you'd feel bout me if I made such a decision. Now, Hal prob won't like it, but he and I have another bone to pick. What matters is you. I'll still -"
"Tom, that's not the point -" she attempted to interrupt him and he squeezed her hands in his, commanding her attention.
"I need to know. I have to ask…" Momentarily he looked down, his eyelids shadowed before he met her gaze once more. "What if I never amount to more than catering? What if this is the only life that suits me? Will you still like me, like me, or will you be leaving me then?" He held her hands and her eyes, watching her face with careful scrutiny. Did he not know her at all? she wondered.
"Oh Tom," Allison sighed, all her arguments forgotten. None of it mattered - not really, because here was the crux of it. Tom, her beautiful Tom, still failed to believe how she felt about him, after all they'd been through. "I'd love you if you had stayed a cafe worker in a burger bar. I already did."
"You did?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "You do?"
"You could do whatever you wanted," Allison stated, then added with a smile, "within the relative confines of the law of course, and I'd still love you. I love you for who you are - not for who you could be someday. I thought you wanted to go to school. You could be a shy, attractive stay-at-home house husband… or a teacher of werewolves. It wouldn't change how I felt one bit." Allison had stepped close to him while she talked, their hands pressed between them. Tom still didn't look like he quite believed her. Or else, his face hadn't quite caught up to believing her just yet. Allison knew she would have to seal the deal. "I love you, Thomas McNair with a T."
Tom's grin started from his eyes and widened through his whole frame. Tom's grin was too big to keep hold inside just himself. He wrapped her up in it, his hands leaving hers to encircle her waist, burying his grin in hair. When he kissed her, it was without shyness or hesitation. When he kissed her, it was as if the whole world was made right.
"It wasn't something Rook told you, about his department," Alex said while she walked with her arm looped through Hal's. They were out enjoying the sunset with Adam, Yvonne and Christa. The hill walk was apparently a regularly scheduled evening's entertainment.
"I surmised. I had the very same question as Christa, actually," Hal answered. He was walking rather stiffly in the form-fitted jeans with his damp boots. Regardless, Alex had to repress the urge to walk slightly behind him. She knew he was fit - Hell, she had come to know every gorgeous inch of him. But his choice of clothing usually hid the fact. She wondered if she would ever tire of looking at him. She surmised they had a bit of time to find out.
The light truly was spectacular this far North. Alex could see why so many artists flocked to the islands. The sunset stretched off into forever, mirrored by all the elds and inlets that surrounded them. They had come up a footpath through the moor on a slow rise. Alex could almost forget why they were here. It was nice to get away from their own homestead, habits and routines and spend the evening with friends. She had instantly grown rather fond of Adam & Yvonne, and hoped they would have the opportunity to visit again someday.
"They're separate from it all here," Alex mused. "None of what we talked about really affects them." Adam and Yvonne were talking quietly to each other up ahead, while Christa was further afield, taking close-in photographs of plants in the fading light.
"They're lucky they found each other," Hal answered. He didn't often allow himself to drink. The wine they'd had with dinner had made him a touch sentimental. He reached for Alex's hand and she wove her fingers through his with a little contented sigh.
"I wasn't so lucky to have found you," she teased. "But I'm still glad you found me. Being dead is way more fun with you around."
Hal sighed at her light-heartedness over the matter, but she nudged him with her shoulder good-naturedly in response. They walked for a ways, hand in hand, keeping hold of their gentle contentment until Hal spoke again. "Why did you come back?"
"From Glasgow?"
"No, though I cannot hide that I'm thankful for that. I meant, after we first met. At the café."
"Yeh," Alex snorted a laugh. "You were just so... you," she chuckled. "I'd never been rejected in quite that way before. But... I was on holiday and trying to have a good time. My friend Emily had been after me for ages to try for a fling, and there you were; the first guy I had really wanted in long time."
"Are you actually admitting to your own stubbornness?" Hal teased her but smiled.
Alex let go of his hand to loop her arm through his, back into their comfortable pattern of walking. "Course no! But..." she trailed off. It seemed silly to say out loud. She had wondered about it, at first. When she was a newly-made ghost and stuck overwhelmed in a world she didn't entirely understand. Until the strange dream of the night prior, it had been her very last nightmare. Hal remained silent as they strolled, waiting for her. His silence always had a way of prodding her on.
"I had dreamt about you. That night."
Hal did not speak; a sense of foreboding was prickling at the back of his neck but he allowed her the space to continue.
"It was a nightmare really... I was... drowning. In the channel. I could see you standing above, distorted through the water, watching me sink deeper. But then... you saved me."
Hal kept his silence for a long time. Just as Adam and Yvonne were beginning to loop back towards them in the fading light, he uttered quietly, quoting under his breath, "fate leads him who follows it, and drags him who resists."
"What's that?" Alex asked, changing the subject.
"Plutarch. Greek."
Hal would never be thankful for the events that brought them together. But he had to admit that he was thankful for her presence in his life now. To whatever end.
Walking out from the narrow alley behind the Horseshoe, Richard popped a candied mint into his mouth, sucking on the hardened tab. He crunched the cellophane wrapper between his fingers, feeling every crease and the sound jarring. He needed to feed properly tonight and get some rest. Hopefully, Celine would report in soon, the same as Spike had done. She was still fielding clients and research on behalf of the firm, despite her absence.
Richard clapped the lad on the back, "Send my greetings to Rosanna."
Spike nodded, his eyes distractedly scanning the street. It was late. There wasn't much traffic out. The street was empty, pavement darkened with a slight sheen of precipitation.
Richard looked at his timepiece and shrugged into his jacket, tossing the crumpled wrapper to the ground. "We'll call you if we hear of anything."
Spike stepped away, dropping his hands into his pockets. "Are you going to get that?" he asked, indicating the wrapper. Behind Richard, right on time, a large, white van pulled around the corner and lumbered towards them.
Richard just raised an aristocratic eyebrow, "You're kidding, right?"
"You wouldn't want to get picked up for littering now, would you?"
"As if that would happen." Richard laughed throatily as he started to walk away.
The van pulled to the curb and the back doors swung open. Spike observed four men, suited in identical grey, hop out. The last one gave him the barest of nods from behind Mr. Turner, before he discreetly pointed a small Taser at their quarry. The weapon caught the elder vampire mid-step, the soft clicks startling against the quiet street. The clicking ceased and Richard Turner sank limply into the practised catch of a second suited man. In a strangely prepared choreography, the third man hoisted Mr. Turner's legs while the fourth administered a non-delicate syringe to the neck. In less than seven seconds, they hefted Richard Turner into the back of the van, closed the doors and sped away.
Spike was left standing alone on the street.