Chapter 26: A Sign of the Times

Grey went across down to find a payphone. It seemed moderately safer that way, though he knew Lacroix knew he would warn Nines. Down the street he could see people in brightly colored hazmat suits flowing in and out of an apartment building, but plagues were the least of his concern at the moment. This, at least, was one thing he could forestall. The phone rang far too many times before, at last, Damsel picked up.

"I need to talk to Nines," Grey said.

"Grey? What-"

"Now! Just put him on now!"

"Jesus, alright, alright. Hold on a sec."

He heard the clatter as the phone was put down, and the loud music that filled the Last Round was filtered through the phone. Grey held it slightly away from his ear until he heard Nine's voice.

"Nines!" Grey leant close to the phone, as though that could stop anyone from eavesdropping. "You have to leave town. You have to hide. You have to-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Nines said. "Slow down. What's wrong?"

"It's… it's complicated. I went to Grout's mansion with Dave. We saw you there, only I know- I'm fairly certain- it wasn't you. But Lacroix knows. He's thinking of using it as an excuse to call a Blood Hunt. He knows I'll warn you. I saw it in his eyes. He'll do it anyway just to… Well, you know."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me." Nines said. Grey could hear the anger seething from the voice. "How the fuck could I have been at Grout's? I was here all night!"

"Masks? Phantasms? I don't know! But I do know Lacroix will use this..."

"Right…" The sound shifted, the music returned, and Nine's cursing was muffled until he brought the phone back to his lips. "Look, I appreciate you warning me, but you better lay low… what about your boy?"

"I can only do so much. Lacroix…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Life boons. Utter bullshit."

"Yeah." Grey almost moved to hang up the phone when he heard Nines say his name. "What?"

"Are you alright? You sound different."

"I wish I could explain, but I can't. Be careful, Nines."

Grey hung up and hurried back to his haven. As if anywhere was safe.

Grey was surprised to find a woman waiting in his apartment when he got back. She stood up from the couch as soon as he stepped through the door. She beamed at him.

"Heather…" He'd almost forgotten about her. But then he remembered the night before. She was waiting for him outside of Venture tower the night before. At first he took her appearance to be some apparition come to haunt him, the ghost of the girl who had drank his blood and still died. She was much improved from when he'd found her dying in the Santa Monica clinic, but even so he was far from glad to see her. She ran up to him like an adolescent fan girl, babbling about how she'd been looking all over for him, about how she felt she had to repay him. Grey tried to shake her off, but the thought of what she might do once the vitae withdraw hit stopped him. He told her to come to his place the next night, and was incredibly unnerved to find out she already knew where he lived. How much else did she know?

Not enough, otherwise she wouldn't be standing there.

"I told the superintendent I was your girlfriend and he let me in," Heather said. "I hope you don't mind."

"I'm only slightly disturbed by that," Grey said. He edged past her to sit down on the couch. Heather quickly sat beside him. When Grey slid over, she moved with him, until he was stuck pressed against the arm of the couch.

"I cleaned everything up," Heather said. "Just like you told me to."

"Did I?" Grey glanced around the room. The apartment did seem cleaner.

Heather nodded eagerly. "Uh-huh! I fed the fish, I made your bed, I cleaned the bathroom. I… Well, I'll have to tackle the storage room later. Do you like it? I meant it when I said I'd do anything for you." She put her hand on his leg. Grey had nowhere to go. "Anything."

He pushed Heather away as she leaned closer. She wasn't exactly his type. She wasn't bad looking, but by the same token she was average, painfully average. The brightly colored spaghetti strap top and jeans she wore were average, the vintage frames of her glasses were average, even dyed bright red she was average. And yet, driven by his own guilt and burgeoning split personality, he had saved her life. There was no telling what effect his blood would have on her, but he knew painfully well what the lack of it would do.

"Before we go on, there's something I should tell you…" Grey said.

"What is it?" Heather sat back, finally allowing him a little space. "You're not married, are you?"

"I never had the chance," Grey muttered. There was no point dragging things out. "I'm a vampire, Heather. I saved your life by feeding you my blood, and because of that you're bound to me." He gave her a hard look. "Still love me?"

"What?" The revelation made Heather slide back a little more, until a wide stretch of couch was between them. She laughed nervously. "You're joking, right? That's like slang for something, right? Like catcher, or some weird fetish term, right?"

"Nope." Grey shook his head. "Vampire. Blood sucking fiend and all that. As we speak my blood is intermingling with your own. The word for you is 'ghoul'." He left out the part about how, with a few more sips of his own blood, she'd end up almost as deranged as he was. Though, as he thought about it, everything was strangely quiet, and the world around him was stubbornly mundane. That felt odd.

"No," Heather shook her head. "No, there's no such thing. You're… This isn't funny anymore."

Grey grabbed her arm to stop her from getting up. "You wanted to be with me, didn't you? This is the price. Stay with me, and I can make you feel incredible. I can protect you. Leave, and… Well, I won't stop you." He didn't particularly want to have to kill her in the hallway, either.

"No! Please!" Heather sat back down. "I'll stay. I promise I'll… Look, I don't care what you are, just don't leave me alone. I couldn't stand that. I'd go insane."

"Oh, you will."

"What?"

"Nevermind." The silence was gnawing at him. Why was it so quiet? He waited, but there wasn't a whisper, or a snicker, or so much as a scream. That was wrong, that was very, very wrong. Heather was staring at him adoringly, oblivious to the turmoil in his mind. "Heather, darling, could you do something for me?"

She leaned closer. "Anything for you."

As Grey pulled her closer, he decided she really wasn't that dull looking. As he sank his fangs into her throat he couldn't help but think of Sherri. It was Sherri's fault that all of this had happened. As Grey fed, all he could hear was the pounding of Heather's heart. When he pulled away, it was still quiet. He licked the wound and laid her gently on the couch and waiting for her to recover. And the same time he strained to hear anything over the cobweb. The silence alone was deafening. He heard a soft sigh, but it was only Heather.

"Scary, isn't it?" Grey looked up. Paul was leaning over the back of the couch. "You spend so much drowning in your own delusions and you learn to breath it in. Then, when you finally get a breath of fresh air, you choke."

"Pretty words, coming from you," Grey whispered.

"Oh don't give me that." Paul rolled his eyes. "I was just saying after all this 'woe is me, cursed to madness' bullshit, you should be happy to see it let up."

"It isn't right," Grey hissed. "It's not supposed to 'let up'. And if I'm so sane now, what are you still doing here?"

Paul grinned. "Excellent point."

He vanished. Grey allowed himself to relax a little.

Just wait, a voice said. It was familiar, but it definitely was not his own. In time it will all become clear. You just have to be patient.

Grey felt foolish for looking around. He was not there. He would never be there, and yet he kept looking. He heard the faintest muttering across the cobweb, too low to make out, and then it was quiet again. His chorus was gone, and Grey was surprised to find he missed their jeers. Most of all he missed their insight. Without them, he felt he was set adrift. Without them, he had no one to tell him all the things he should never know.

Patience.

"Easy for you to say," Grey muttered. "You're dead."

Heather opened her eyes and looked at him. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing, my pet." Grey leaned close and brushed a lock of hair from her face. The gesture of tenderness was empty, but it still made her smile as she stared into his eyes. "Just rest."

He left her on the couch while he tried to make sense of what was going on.

It was getting late when Dave finally returned. Heather was in the storage room trying to make sense of the mess Grey had made of it. Grey felt like an idiot for throwing everything there in the first place… And for throwing out the TV, and the phone. He missed those things now. Grey was mulling over what had driven him to that when Dave came in.

Instead of using the front door, he came in through the air vent under the stairs.

"That's novel."

"I told you, I can't risk having the neighbors see me." Dave replace the grate over the vent and got back to his feet.

"How did it go?"

"You're not gonna believe this," Dave said as brushed the dust from his pants. "But the sarcophagus was-"

"Hold that thought." Grey was from the couch and, without any explanation, walked over to the storage room that, years ago, had simply been a laundry room. Dave drifted closer uncertainly. Grey gestured that he wait a moment before calling, "Heather, sweetheart, could you come out here for a moment?"

"Who the hell is Heather?" Dave asked.

His question was answered a moment later as Heather stepped out of the room.

"You know you have a lot of books for someone who doesn't have a-"

The sight of Dave stopped her cold. Grey stepped up behind her and had his hand over her mouth just in time to stifle that scream that followed. He was forced to pull her closed against him as her second impulse was to flee from the sight of the creature standing into the living room. Dave looked confused and a little hurt. Grey didn't blame him.

"I know this wasn't the best way to do this," Grey said. "But… Heather, this is my friend, Dave. Dave, this is Heather. My ghoul."

Dave stared at Heather, whose eyes were still wide with fright. "Since when do you have a ghoul?"

"It's a long story." Grey said. "I'm more interested in yours." He looked down at Heather. Her breathing came quick and ragged as it rushed through her nose and over his hand. "Heather… If I take my hand away will you be civil? Dave can't help the way he looks, you know."

"You could have warned me," Dave muttered. "I could have hid or something."

"End result's the same," Grey said. "Well, Heather?"

Heather nodded, and Grey slowly took his hand away.

Heather pointed at Dave. "Why do you- how- I don't…"

"Breathe, Heather," Grey said.

She didn't listen. Grey caught her just as her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees buckled. He carried her back over to the couch with him. Dave remained where he was. He looked angry.

"That's really cold, man," Dave said. It was hard to say if he meant for Heather or for him. Probably both.

"She's had a lot to take in tonight," Grey said. "Introducing someone to the supernatural is a lot like teaching them to swim. Sometimes you just have to throw them in the deep end and hope they get the idea."

"There's also, y'know, easing them into it."

"Yes, now if only someone had be so kind to us…" Grey sat down on the couch and draped heather across it with him, resting her head in his lap so it looked as though she'd simply fallen asleep like that. There was no telling how long she'd be out.

Better make the most of it.

"So, you were saying?" Grey asked. "About the sarcophagus?"

Dave sighed. "Right…"