Chapter 17

Jessica and I walked briskly through the windy streets of Chicago. By the time we ensured the safety of the freed prisoners, dressed their wounds (David apparently gained some medical experience while serving some time in the marines), drove back to the base where we gave our report, got checked and cleared by Edwards, and showered and changed, late evening brought the combination of orange and purple hues as the sun prepared its departure for the night.

We passed by the Cool Beans coffee shop where a small girl waited outside. She grew excited as we neared, "There you are, what took you so long?" The girl complained, wrapped up in a bright puffy pink jacket and blue jeans while toting a SpongeBob backpack and carrying a book too big for her age.

Jessica smiled, "Sorry we're late Izzi," she apologized before wrapping her younger sister in a hug. The ten-year-old looked more or less like her older sister. Hair the same shade of blonde, similar shape of the jaw and face. Unlike Jessica, freckles dotted Izzi's face and her hazel eyes differed greatly from Jessica's. The little girl stood only a little higher than Jessica's stomach and carried a brightness that was alarmingly infectious.

Isabelle kept her face scrunched in an unconvinced scowl through the hug, but when Jessica kissed her forehead she couldn't help but smile, "Okay, okay I get it. You can stop now," she giggled as she made a small half-hearted effort to push away her sister.

Jessica pulled away but let her hand stroke her sister's hair. After all the negative energy and emotions I sensed today, the love I now felt between the two siblings helped relieve some of the stress I carried.

Izzi grabbed Jessica's hand as we walked, swinging her arms and talking about her day. Jessica listened closely as Izzi continued without prompting all the way to our destination, a small bar squished between a laundromat and a Chinese restaurant. The Rabbit Hole hosted a variety of events, from improv to karaoke, or so I've been informed. Tonight consisted of poetry reading, and while I don't normally go out to hear poetry, or anything at all really, it seemed important to Jessica when she mentioned it, so here I am.

Yellow light poured out the open door and onto the street. The sound of laughter and clinking drinks greeted us as we approached. Apparently others thought the Rabbit Hole was the place to be as well given how many people packed into the small establishment. Besides a small stage and the actual bar with four tall stools, The Rabbit Hole housed three tables, one by the door and two by the small stage. Despite the recommended capacity of probably thirty patrons, about forty crowded inside.

We pushed past people to get through the door, and I noticed a variety of ages, younger folks around my ages to others well into their golden years. Isabelle was the youngest by far though. Through the noise and chatter, I picked up an array of scents from perfume and cologne, to sweat and body odor, to random herbs and spices I tried not to acknowledge.

Eventually we made it in and passed someone preparing to head out. We quickly claimed the seat for our own, Izzi climbing onto the torn leather seat to view over the crowd. The bartender smiled at the spectacle between handing out orders and drinks.

Jessica bought a Pepsi while I asked for a water. Both came in a tall glass with a white straw poking out. Izzi reached out and picked up the glass with both hands, still standing as she sipped with a puckered mouth and looked over the crowd.

"Slow down Izzi," Jessica scolded, "It's not all for you."

Isabelle stopped her gulping and handed the drink over before sitting down with a satisfied exhale. After asking permission, Jessica plucked the straw out of my drink before setting it into her own and taking a dainty sip.

I grabbed my own drink, and we watched a woman onstage continue with her standup routine towards an audience looking for a few laughs. Jessica checked her watch before leaning in, "The poetry readings should begin any minute now," she informed me over the noise of applause.

Soon the speaker began wrapping up, "Thank you everyone, and goodnight!" The crowd cheered and a few people whistled before the crowd managed to open up just enough for the woman to exit. A skinny, balding man then took the stage, "Alright folks, thank you all for coming. I hope you're all enjoying yourselves. We will now be transitioning to our weekly poetry night. So, uh, I'd like to open the mic for anyone who's brought something to share. Anything you've read or written, I'm sure we'd all love to hear it. So," he paused, looking around the room, "would anyone like to start us off?"

Several people shuffled out during the announcement, clearing up the cramped space, but even so the placed remained crowded and hot. Occasionally a merciful breeze blew in, refreshing those of us near the door.

A few awkward moments passed as the man continued looking over the crowd waiting for that first volunteer. Finally one weathered middle aged man climbed the half-step onto the stage and began his poem about taking flight. I didn't recognize the name, but others did and gave a few claps of appreciation before he even began. Halfway through the first line the bar became near silent, and I scanned the crowd and saw them all quiet to listen with only a few hushed conversations now taking place. When the poem ended, the back of the room applauded first, a sign even those barely across the threshold still heard the performance clearly. Next an elderly woman was assisted up and began her poem on the season of autumn.

When she finished, people again cheered, and so it went. The variety of poems ranged from tragic to comedic, hopeful to peaceful. Some rhymed in a rhythm, while others just seemed to go. They all received the same encouragement from the crowd regardless of structure or substance.

Jessica whispered something, but I didn't hear it, "What?"

"I said 'poetry is a beautiful thing,'" she repeated softly. I didn't immediately comment, so she continued, "It allows people to talk about their emotions, their inner thoughts. Especially here, with these people, there isn't any judgement of who you are or what you do."

I've never been one for much introspection. Usually it ends up asking questions I'd rather not answer, "Do you come here often?" I asked.

Jessica thought about her answer, "Not as much as I would like, but I've known about this place for years. I'm thankful it exists. It's small, but I think it gives everyone a place to feel safe."

A chorus of laughter rippled through the crowd at one of the poet's comedic lines.

"People here don't congratulate you for successes or try to solve your problems. They just sit," she closed her eyes, "and listen."

I don't know. I could used some good advice. Everything's been going so fast, I didn't know if I was making the right decisions.

I kept silent for a while, listening to a woman recite a poem about gardening. Then I leaned over, "Why did you join?"

Jessica answered, keeping her focus on the poet, "Probably the same reason as you, to help people."

I shook my head, "You know that's not why I joined. Do you know you're working for Avellino?"

Jessica furrowed her brow as she tended to do when confused, "What are you talking about Caleb?"

I lowered my voice even more so as to keep from drawing attention, "Avellino was the one who told me about that whole group. He said he was behind the whole thing." I gave her a brief account of my conversation in the limo, or at least everything I hadn't told her yet.

As I finished people began applauding for the speaker while the next one took the stage. Jessica thought about my words for a minute before speaking, "What if he's lying?" she asked.

"What?"

"What if he was lying?" she repeated. "What if he just found you before Garrison did? He could spin his own story and make it seem like he was running the proverbial show."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he's Avellino," Jessica explained as if I were a child. She then sighed, "Avellino is a disgusting, grubby little parasite who lives off this city. In order to maintain that grubby little grip, he needs information on everything that's happening." She paused as the next poem began. "Which means, if he learned about a secret military group," she thought aloud softly, "then he'd likely want to get as much information as possibly, preferably from someone close." She focused her eyes on me, "He'd look to make you an informant Caleb, albeit you'd do so unknowingly, but as an informant nonetheless."

"Then how did he know about the operation in the first place? Or the general time in which I'd meet Erica?"

"I-" Jessica hesitated, "I don't know." She turned her attention forward

I kept quiet, pondering but still not convinced, "How were you asked?"

Jessica shrugged, "A rather cryptic message followed by pictures of Red Court victims," she shivered from the memory, "The message said it was an invitation to be a part of something greater. It said a representative would come and meet me, and if I decided to join, I could make a difference."

"And that didn't raise any red flags for you?" I scoffed. "There are probably more than a few wackos who would've sent the same message."

"I can take care of myself!" Jessica hissed, drawing a few looks from those around us. She apologized before continuing in a more controlled tone. "And what was I supposed to do? People are dying from threats they don't want to admit exist, and we can do something about it Caleb."

I shook my head, "We're not soldiers Jess. We barely know anything ourselves." Which brought up another question, "Where did you learn to use magic? The last time we talked about it I thought you could barely turn a drink into a popsicle." I looked into her eyes, but she didn't look back at mine.

Instead she stared at the stage, "I'm a fast learner when properly motivated," she said simply. She kept her voice calm, but I sensed the pain she felt from concealing information from me. I continued watching her as people applauded again, "But you're right Caleb," she told me, "We're not soldiers. We're something more. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a poem to recite."

She slipped into the crowd as people continued cheering. I couldn't help but think there's been a double standard to this whole 'tell each other everything' deal.

Izzi leaned forward from her spot on the stool, "Is everything ok?"

I looked on as someone other than Jessica took the stage, "I hope so," I sighed. I glanced over to see Izzi staring at me, the glass looking large in her tiny hands as she sipped. "We'll be fine," I reassured her.

"I know," she said confidently. "She likes you."

I nodded, listening to a poem about sunny afternoons, "Yeah, she's pretty cool too."

I could almost hear Izzi's brow furrow like her sister, "That's not what I meant."

"I know," I replied softly.

She leaned farther forward, "So is it true you can use magic?" She asked eagerly.

"Speak softer," I told her, "… and yeah, sort of."

"How do you 'sort of' use magic?"

"Some of it is magic, some of it isn't."

"So you do use magic?" Izzi confirmed.

I sighed, "Yeah."

Izzi's eyes widened with her smile, "That's so cool."

"Your sister can use magic too you know."

She giggled, "Yeah, she used to show me all the time." Sadness crept into her voice, "She doesn't really anymore, but I understand why." She didn't wait for me to speak before continuing, "She's training to help people, or at least that's what she told me. Are you going to be helping people with her?"

I hesitated before answering, "Yeah, or at least for a little while." Sheesh. Was I really going to sign on to this? If today didn't set the tone for the job, I didn't know what would.

"You two would make a pretty good team."

"Mm-hmm," I grunted through the sound of applause.

I watched Jessica take the stage and step up to the mic. "Hi," she said with a small wave, "My name is Jessica Chalser, and I'll be reciting a sonnet I wrote titled, "The Call to be a Hero." She cleared her throat before speaking with composure and confidence.

"We all have heard the call when evil strikes

But those with greatness marked upon their brow

Will stand to face the darkness with the like

Of those who see the time to fight is now.

The heroes come to fix a world in pain

And pour their hearts and souls into their cause.

But not for simple monetary gain

They serve the greater good and without pause

A world at war will need protectors soon

To guard the peaceful sheep who cannot fight

And all will reap protection from this boon

While few will know the ones who fought through night

And when the demons of the Earth attack

The heroes stand to turn the evil back"

The crowd applauded, as did Izzi and I. Not a subtle creature was Jessica. If she truly saw us as heroes or protectors, there was nothing I could do to talk her out of this. No way to stop my best friend from throwing herself into battles with monsters who wouldn't hesitate to kill her horribly or turn her into one of them.

My shiver turned into resolve. No way in hell would I let that happen.

Izzi interrupted my thoughts by scooting off the stool, "My turn!" she smiled and began weaving her way through the crowd. Just moments later Jessica appeared and found me, "What'd you think?" she asked.

"I think you might be the most poetic spell caster in this place," I told her.

She laughed, "Yeah well, I think I'm winning that contest by default." Her voice turned more serious, "What did you really think?"

I shook my head, "I'm sorry Jess, maybe the world needs heroes, but killing vampires doesn't put us in that clubhouse."

"I agree," Jessica began, causing me to raise an eyebrow, "It's saving lives and protecting others that makes us heroes."

I sighed in response.

"Oh come on," Jessica argued. She leaned in close, "Look at what we did today Caleb We saved people."

I kept quiet and listened to a poem about the wind. I couldn't be a hero. Jessica maybe, but not me. Heroes don't make deals with the devil or the mob. And at the ripe old age of seventeen, I didn't know what I was capable of.

It was Jessica's turn to sigh, "So where's Izzi?" she asked, taking her sister's spot on the stool as the poet finished.

I nodded towards the stage, "She's up there."

Jessica turned and we both watched little Izzi take the stage. I stretched to see the girl over the sea of heads. I watched her say something to a person nearby, and they got up and lowered the mic stand for her, drawing a chuckle from the crowd. "Uh-Hello!" she said brightly, seemingly unaffected by the gazes of everyone in the room, "My name is Isabelle Chalser," she continued, "and I wrote a haiku titled 'Man with Two Faces.'" She then took a deep breath before speaking.

"The sober man loves

But when he turns to drinking

His love turns to hate"

People clapped and cheered for the little girl who just spoke. I hesitated, confused by what I just heard. Only because of my proximity to Jessica could I register anger directed towards her sister through the rest of emotion from the crowd.

"What was that about?" I asked.

She shrugged but never took her eyes off her sister even after the girl stepped off the stage. "Nothing that isn't between sisters, excuse me."

I watched Jessica step away to meet up with her sister, grab her arm, and say something in her ear. I couldn't tell what happened through the crowd, but when they both returned Jessica's anger was more or less under control.

"Interesting poem," I told Izzi, "what's it about?"

She glanced at her sister uncomfortably, and I immediately regretted my big mouth. "Just what the poem says. A man with two faces."

Jessica's lips twitched.

I should just leave poet's to their vagueness, "Well I could use some fresh air," I said quickly in an effort to diffuse the tension, "how about you two?"

Jessica sighed, "Yes please." We found out way outside where the wind picked up to greet us. All three of us took a breath. The cool air provided a pleasant relief from the stiff air inside the Rabbit Hole. We stood for a while watching traffic. The sun continued to set and streetlights lit up, their yellow glow only just noticeable over the last of the evening's light.

Jessica checked her watch, "Well I guess we should be heading home."

"Aww do we have to?" asked Izzi, "It's not that late."

"Oh yes it is," Jessica retorted, "It's practically night, and you know how it is. We need to get home before nightfall."

I wish I could say their reasoning came from the threat of vampires, but it wasn't. Streets just tended to become more dangerous at night from mundane mortals just as much as anything else.

We began trekking towards the nearest bus stop when Jessica hooked my arm with hers and leaned against my shoulder. "Thanks for coming Caleb." Something synonymous to the feeling of an electric shock snapped through my hand as she laced her fingers between mine and our auras made contact.

"Uh," I hesitated, feeling a flutter in my chest, "Sure. Of course Jess." I felt her emotions, a sort of peaceful joy due to my company accompanied by an underlying tension as she wondered if I felt the same way.

Someone else behind us wondered the same thing. I glanced back but didn't see them. I focused until I recognized the mind.

"Caleb?" Jessica asked.

I turned to look at her, "Yeah-"

Jessica interrupted me, pressing her lips against mine, her aura amplifying the wonderful sensation.

I cannot possibly describe the experience in a way that does it justice. It was like receiving something you never knew you needed but then couldn't remember life without it. I guess I can only say it felt good. Really, really good, and all I wanted to do was stop time so that moment could last forever.

But I couldn't, and it didn't.

I pulled back from the kiss and looked into Jessica's eyes. Hurt, shock, and confusion looked back at me. She masked it as annoyance, "What the hell was that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, "I-," I stammered, "I can't do this."

I felt her let go and step back. I felt her pain even as I opened my eyes and looked at her crossing her arms, "Enlighten me," she said sourly.

The fear I carried with me spoke out, "I can't be with you… or anyone." I told her. I looked down, "I just can't risk hurting-"

"Bullshit!" Jessica spat, "If you think your magic or little 'mind tricks' makes you some sort of monster than you-"

"You don't understand," I seethed angrily through gritted teeth. Angry at myself and fearful of what I could become. I closed my eyes and saw the yellow eyes I'd seen in myself back at the police station.

A few moments passed, "Do you like me?" I heard Jessica choke. I opened my own eyes while hers filled with water. "Because I like you a lot."

"Yes," I answered, quietly and truthfully, "I like you."

"Then what is it?" she asked, barely keeping herself from yelling, "Why do you keep playing the wounded animal? For a guy, you really suck at picking up the girl."

I remembered screams of pain, burning, and the silence that followed. "I'm a killer," I told her, "I've killed people."

Jessica stood unconvinced, "Who?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Well, did they deserve it?"

The question caught me off guard, "What kind of question is that?" I spluttered. "When can anyone say someone deserves to die?"

"Exactly!" Jessica screamed in excited anger, throwing up her arms, "Caleb," she said in gentle exasperation, "You are not a monster." She took a breath, "You're a kind, brave," her annoyance crept back into her voice as she continued, "stupid, cold-footed idiot whose company I tend to enjoy."

A partial smile came to my face, "Thanks. I needed to hear that."

"Of course, anytime," Jessica responded, sniffing and crossing her arms once more. We both looked over at the distant approach of the bus from down the road.

I hated leaving her like this, "Jessica?" I asked, "How about we find time to share a heated beverage and tell each other everything that's going on?"

One side of her lips curled up, but her eyes still held sadness, "I'd like that Caleb," she then looked over and called, "C'mon Izzi, it's time to go."

"Ok," Izzi answered, making an act of trying to see into all the different stores instead of listening to our conversation.

The bus pulled up, and I watched them board and leave. I waited for it to travel a few blocks before speaking without turning, "You can come out now Paulina."

I sensed her surprise, and the young witch soon stood beside me as her veil disappeared. Now that other distractions left for the time being, I began feeling annoyed by her presence, "Why are you here?" I growled.

I didn't turn my head, but out of the corner of my eye I saw her raise an eyebrow, "Who did you kill?"

"Are you going to kill me if I don't answer?"

She blinked in surprise, "What? No." She answered on reflex.

I sensed her become frustrated with herself. Interesting. "Then tell me why you're here." I repeated, turning towards her without showing much emotion.

Paulina narrowed her gaze at me. Since we already shared a soul gaze, we could look each other in the eye without consequence. She turned her attention forward before explaining, "I've gotten my second opinion."

I couldn't stop the sinking feeling in my stomach but even so I kept my voice neutral, "And?"

"You need to come with me to be evaluated," she said simply.

Why did I feel like I already went through this? "Do we have to now?" I sighed. "It's been a long day."

"Yes," she responded, anger evident in her tone, "As a matter of fact, we do." I got the impression she didn't like me questioning her authority. She turned her heel and started walking down the street, "C'mon then, keep up," she called over her shoulder.

I rubbed my face with my palm. This day was never going to end. Then I followed her a couple of blocks and through a few turns before we arrived at a self-service car wash. It consisted of two walls and a roof built out of cylinder blocks as well as a tin with a small coin slot hooked up to a water spout with a hose underneath. Paulina pointed towards the car wash, "Go stand in there," she ordered.

I looked at the set up and began piecing it together, "You can not be serious."

"I am completely serious," Paulina replied flatly while walking over to the coin slot and pulled out a handful of quarters, "I need to investigate as to whether you were telling the truth about your abilities."

"A magic circle would do the same thing," I pointed out.

It didn't annoy me when she realized I was right. It annoyed me when she decided she didn't care. "Regardless," she informed me, "I was instructed to do it this way, so do it this way we shall."

"So what? You're going to soak me until you're satisfied?"

The Warden shook her head as she picked up the hose, "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous." She held it out carefully to avoid spurting water onto her grey robe. Her eyes met mine and she smiled coldly, "You are going to 'soak' yourself while I watch." I opened my mouth to argue but she cut me off, "If you do not comply then I'll be forced to assume you were lying and carry out my original sentence."

She was trying to bully me into submission. Even though she had power, I couldn't just let her walk over me. Then again, if I made myself a problem here, I'd only become a larger target for the White Council.

"Is this because I beat you last time?" I asked.

Paulina spluttered, "What?"

"Because I would've expected more class from a wizard of the White Council." I told her condescendingly. "Using your title to leverage someone into doing something embarrassing just to stroke your ego. That's pretty low."

Her face turned red, "A wizard of the White Council would never take part in such pettiness."

"Yet here we are."

"Are you not going through the evaluation?" Paulina warned, I couldn't help but notice a part of her wanted me to respond yes, and a considerable part of me wanted to say yes as well. But that wasn't the smart part of me.

I sighed, "No, I'll go through your 'evaluation,'" I told her, taking off my shoes and jacket. I placed my phone in my jacket pocket, thought about it, then took the batter out before placing both back in the jacket pocket and setting my clothes away from the immediate area. "I just want you to know this sucks."

Paulina rolled her eyes, "Duly noted." When I approached again she thrusted the hose into my hand. "Be sure your head is underneath it," she added, "We want to be sure it's washing away your magic." She sounded a little too smug for my liking.

I looked at the hose for a long second. Water poured out and splashed onto the concrete, informing me of its freezing temperature.

"Come on. Let's see it then," Paulina napped impatiently.

My gaze lingered on the steady stream of icy water. I sighed and told myself it was better than dying. Then I took a breath, closed my eyes, and moved the hose towards me.

Maybe I spoke too soon. On contact I gave an involuntarily sharp intake. The water pounded my head, droplets spraying my arms bringing goose bumps while the majority ran down my body. Running down the back of my skull, down my neck, and underneath my shirt. It sucked heat out along my spine and caused my muscles to tighten. It continued into my pants, soaking everything and sapping my strength before exiting out both pantlegs and down the back of my heels. It ran over my face, down my nose, lips, and chin, and onto my shirt. My shirt clung to my torso in a cold embrace, and the water continued down the front of my pants to make both sides equally uncomfortable. The tops and bottoms of my feet quickly went numb as the puddle formed around me.

The worst came with the wind. With every gust, it bit and tore, sinking its teeth and claws into me, sending spasms through me. I lost control of my body as it shivered, and I struggled to breathe. I opened my eyes and glared at Paulina, but I doubted it was intimidating.

"Good," she nodded, unphased by my gaze, "Now it's time to prove you don't use magic."

"Fine," I spat through the water, "Having fun yet?" I secretly tried to draw in magic, but I couldn't gather it. Instead it ran out of my body like the water that ran over my toes.

She smiled a sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes, "Perhaps, but you wouldn't need supernatural abilities to see that." Her tone grew serious, "I'm going to think of a number, and you're going to tell me what it is."

Despite my situation, I couldn't help but laugh, "All this and you want me to guess a number? Like what, between one and ten?"

"Don't be stupid," Paulina answered annoyed, "It's any number I think of."

Maybe it was because I didn't have full control of myself, but I kept laughing, "And what happens if I guess the wrong number?"

"Then you fail."

A chill went down my spine not completely caused by the water.

"I have a number. You may try to guess it," she informed me.

My jaw locked as I scowled at her. It took little effort to determine the number, but I wasn't going to stop there. When I extended my senses, I found the same house as last time, but instead of running into the proverbial door, I did a quick scan to find a way in. It didn't take long to find a suitable place of entry. She didn't even notice as I searched her subconscious.

It took me maybe five seconds of real time to enter her mind and search for what I needed before snapping back to the present, "Well," she said expectantly, not sensing anything amiss.

"Four-fourteen," I told her. I cut her off before she could speak. "April fourteenth, the day you lost your older brother." Her face began to drain of color. I sensed her pain even as contempt crept into my voice, "You lost him and your mother just a few years ago during one of the earlier vampire raids, and you feel guilty for having survived."

"Stop," she breathed.

I didn't. "But lucky you, now that most of the senior wizards are dead, you were promoted to Warden and given your own mission to help your cause"

"You've proven your point," she spoke louder, her anger growing.

Not yet. "So now you're out with a vengeance trying to take down the monsters who took away your family, and in the process more people have been caught in the crossfire, more blood on your hands."

"Stop now!" she commanded fearfully. The ground around us began to rumble.

"No!" I shouted, stepping towards her while still holding my head underneath the hose, "My adoptive father is in the hospital because of you," Anger bubbled to the surface, coming to a boil, "and now you're here hounding me, taunting me with death." I took another step towards her, a ripple flowing through the shallow puddle that formed around me. She took an involuntary step back and shook one wrist, revealing a series of silver charms that glowed faintly with hazel inscriptions. I looked down at my hands, balled into fists, and past them into my own blurred reflection on the water.

And I saw those yellow eyes.

I froze and shut my eyes. I mentally counted to four, working to control my emotions and shutting the doors on tempting whispers. When I opened my eyes and spoke, the words came out more controlled, but far from friendly, "You already knew I was different when you soul gazed me," I told her, "You wanted to know if I'm dangerous." I threw aside the hose. While I stood only a few inches taller than her, at our close proximity she still had to look up at me as water dripped off my hair and nose, "I am dangerous," I growled.

We stared at each other for several seconds before she lowered her gaze.

I took a breath, "Now the question you're thinking of now is whether to kill me with magic, the new gun you have in your pocket," She looked quickly back at me in suspicion. I took a step back to give some breathing room, "or continue to ask whatever it was you came here to ask."

I probably crossed a line there somewhere, but I couldn't help but hold her partially responsible for several problems in my life that wouldn't have existed had she stayed out of my life. And that part of me loathed her.

Paulina evaluated me with her chestnut eyes, weighing her options before speaking, "I was ordered to assess you and your capabilities and recruit you for a task if I deem it appropriate."

How is this getting even more ridiculous? "You have an awful way of asking for help," I told her, my voice not softening.

Her eyes kept a silent fire while she kept her voice even, "I had to be sure you could handle yourself."

I scoffed at her, "You don't even want my help. Why would I even consider help-"

"Because it involves the vampires who've hurt your adoptive father," Paulina interrupted. I shut up, and she continued, "The two vampires you saw in that alley were twins, a brother and sister, Richard and Samantha Stone. They work for a vampire by the name of Bavarious Degrada, who is using them to gather weapons and information to aid the vampires in their war. He is part of the reason the vampires have been able to engage in such successful chemical warfare against us."

Small world. "So, what exactly is he planning, and what are you trying to do about it?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you if you'll just listen," Paulina said through gritted teeth. She took another breath to calm herself. "He's looking to gain control of some human weapons of mass destruction to use against wizards."

I recalled the conversation from earlier today, "Let me guess, some type of bomb?" I asked, my voice dry despite my condition.

Paulina quirked an eyebrow, "Yes," she confirmed, "But it's a sort of flying bomb. I believe it may have something to do with airplanes." I guess that made a little more sense, but not much. "These bombs are a part of some sort of secret project called Icarus, and Degrada has sent agents to capture people involved in the project or kill them before they can alert anyone." Her voice grew bitter as she looked away, "They also kill anyone who sees them or is otherwise in their way."

"How does that not draw attention?" I asked in disbelief.

She shrugged, "People die or go missing all the time, and the public wouldn't believe vampires even exist much less connect anything to a vampire attack. The White Council knows better, but our forces are stretched thin." She took a deep breath and did her best to keep the disgust out of her voice, "Which is why I've been told to ask for your help."

I raised an eyebrow, "Ask? Not order?"

"I was told to threaten you with carrying out my original sentence," Paulina said matter-of-factly, "but that hasn't gotten me far now has it? And I don't think that will be necessary anyway," she paused, "will it?"

I took a few seconds to consider. There wasn't really a way I could say no now, and I already was doing the exact same thing with my other supernatural fighting group (I can't keep calling them that) but that doesn't mean I couldn't get something out of this.

A swift breezed threatened to send my teeth chattering. I clamped my jaw and hoped it made me look more determined. Finally I asked, "If I do this, will you leave me alone?"

Paulina thought about it, "As long as you don't break any laws of magic, or otherwise permanently scar a mortal human with," she waved a hand, "whatever it is you do, I don't see why the White Council would continue to see you as a threat."

"So you will leave me alone?" I repeated, taking great efforts to keep my body from spasming.

Her nostrils flared before relenting, "Yes," she said finally, "as long as you stay out of White Council business, I will leave you in peace."

"Good," I said with satisfaction, "was that so hard?"

"More than you know," she seethed through clenched teeth. "So will you help me?"

I knew my answer, but I made a show of considering my options for her benefit. "I suppose so," I answered. Setting my jaw again to brace against a new gust of wind. "When do we start?"