Chapter 18

Ronkins and I sat quietly in his little blue car after he killed the engine. He looked over with concern, "How are you feeling?" he asked.

When I met Ronkins at our rendezvous last night, I must have looked like quite a mess. His initial anger at my tardiness evaporated upon seeing me shivering and soaking wet. Instead of a lecture, he pulled a towel out from the back of his small car and handed it to me without a word before blasting on the heater.

We hadn't talked much on our way back after I told Ronkins's I was ok, so his question caught me off guard in the silence. "Oh yeah, I'm fine, thanks," I mumbled.

Ronkins nodded, his lips pursed. I sensed his longing to comfort me, but he fumbled over what to say. Finally he offered reassuringly, "I'm sure everything is going to turn out alright."

I sighed, "Yeah, thanks." I may have felt better if his words didn't sound so forced.

Ronkins gave another short nod. Then he cleared his throat and spoke professionally, "I suggest you run up to your room to change. In twenty minutes you're expected to meet with Mr. Fletcher in the training room."

I sighed, closed my eyes, and pinched my nose, "With everything that's happened today, don't you think I could have the night off?"

"No," Ronkins answered flatly. I looked up at him before he continued, "You've just experienced your first day of fighting the supernatural Mr. Decter, so let me ask you something," he leaned in closer, "Did you feel in control today?"

No. I didn't. Nothing seemed under my control. From the beginning I woke up in a house that wasn't my own and was tricked into completing the initiation of a group I didn't want to be a part of, which led me to tangle with the Red Court where I barely scraped by with the seat of my pants. I told the girl I liked, who liked me back for whatever inconceivable reason, that I couldn't be with her because I couldn't control the inner demon inside me. And after all of that, I was reminded the White Council kept their own leash on me, which they could tug whenever they wanted. I felt chained, forced to watch others dictate where my life would lead. I experienced an utter lack of control.

"I'm sorry this world is in such a horrid state that you are needed to help it Mr. Decter," Ronkins began after a prolonged silence, "But that doesn't change the fact that you are needed," his face hardened, but his sincerity stayed, "so no, you don't get the night off. You will train every night until you are in control. Do you understand?"

I clenched my jaw and nodded, "Thanks for the ride," I muttered as I opened the car door.

Ronkins sighed, "Of course, Mr. Decter. Any time." We got out past a row of luxury vehicles on our way towards a staircase.

If I had been more of a car guy, I may have been a little more appreciative of what we passed, but I paid little attention to the assortment of sports, vintage, and muscle cars that lined the garage. Although I did think it funny to see Mr. Ronkins's humble little Honda parked next to a polished Mercedes.

With everything I'd been through today, I needed a distraction, "What does Avellino need with all these cars?" I wondered aloud.

"Master Avellino believes certain vehicles present varying statements," Ronkins answered. "Delicate conversations must be handled carefully, and just as one dresses for the job, so he must choose the vehicle that best fits the encounter."

"Yeah, I bet choosing between the Mustang and Ferrari must be a very difficult decision," I scoffed.

"Before you negatively remark my master's methods, you would do well to look at your own experiences," Ronkins suggested. I didn't ask him to elaborate, but he did anyway, " "You first met Master Avellino in his black limozine, a vehicle chosen to hold a private and professional conversation during your transportation. Not only could he maintain eye contact, but it also allowed him to pass you documents."

"Well geeze, now I feel silly thinking it was just to show off how rich and powerful he was."

"You are also correct," Ronkins answered. "Master Avellino is a powerful man, and believe it or not, he didn't become one by chance."

I stopped myself from making any more biting remarks as Ronkins opened the door to the stairs into the main building. We climbed, and the concrete steps turned into hardwood flooring as we walked down the main hall of the mansion. Ronkins led me through a turn leading to another staircase and taking me to the second floor. From there it took a short walk before I recognized a familiar hallway.

The walk still took longer than I thought necessary for anything short of a hotel.

I opened the door to my room just as Tony came walking around a corner. Upon noticing me, he called, "Hey Caleb. Glad I caught you."

I stopped as Tony approached, a small spring in his step, "I've been meaning to ask you how your first day of fighting supernatural baddies went," he hesitated when looking over my drenched attire. "So you're searching for their secret underwater lair huh? Real James Bond villain types these ones." The lightness in his voice didn't completely mask the concern in his voice.

I forced an equal lightness into my voice, "Not yet, but a Warden deemed forcing me to soak myself with a hose under threat of death was worth her time, so there's that." I opened the door to my room and made my way towards the dresser.

"Huh," Tony mused, "Wardens have a strange sense of priorities." For a moment real concern lingered in his voice, "You holding up ok?"

I sighed, opening drawers and retrieving a new set of clothes, "Oh you know, another day, another emotional scar."

"That good huh?"

"Yep." I walked into the bathroom and closed the door before changing out of my clothes.

After a moment, Tony's voice called through the door, "I've been thinking your supernatural fighting group needs a name."

I rolled my eyes as he continued, "All superhero groups have one, and you guys are just an incredibly more mundane version of the Justice League."

I tried not to sound too condescending, "I didn't realize you were into comic books. You do realize no one there has superpowers, and we're not superheroes, right?"

"I'm a fan of classic literature of the graphic novel variety, yes," Tony sniffed, "but regardless, concerning you use powers not granted to most humans to save the world from people and other creatures with evil intentions, I think that's about as close as it gets." Him and Jessica both. He paused before asking, "Do you guys wear a costume?"

"No-" I cut myself off from an automatic response and reconsidered as I zipped up my pants, "I guess so. It's sort of a vampire-proof onesie."

"Hah!" Tony cried triumphantly, "Onesies are the trademark of superheroes."

"Whatever," I muttered, pulling my shirt over my head.

"Anyway, I believe an appropriate name for your group would be-" I opened the door to see him laying on my bed, looking at the ceiling, "The Pseudo Squad." He finished with a small jazz-hands gesture.

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow, "The fake squad? Seriously?"

He turned his head towards me and spread his arms in an open gesture, "Like I said, appropriate right?" He looked back towards the ceiling, "I figured since you are supposed to work for a government branch that doesn't seem to exist, yet really exists, when reality is it doesn't seem to exist because it in fact doesn't exist, the name sort of fits."

"Wow," I said impressed, "You made that sound a lot more difficult than it needed to be."

He ignored me, "Plus, it's fun to say." He made a gesture with his hands as if revealing something, "The Pseudo Squad," he whispered loudly.

"I give it two seasons," I responded, walking out, "Want to come with?"

Instead of answering, Tony just stood up and walked out behind me, "Two seasons! How's that for enthusiasm?" He asked indignantly.

"Sorry. I hope you didn't spend much time on it," I offered, letting him pass before closing the door.

He shook his head, "The level of creativity isn't measured by the time it took to create it." We took a few steps before speaking soberly, "So how are you feeling?"

"About the name? It's fine. I just don't think the others want to use a-"

"You know I'm not talking about the name," Tony interrupted, annoyed. "I mean working for my father. Honestly I'm surprised you're going along with it."

I laughed, "I got tricked into it today."

Tony shook his head, "I don't buy that. You don't get tricked into working with a group all day without some sort of say or influence, but I'll let that slide. Do you think you're going to stay?"

I thought about it for a moment, "Yeah," I said finally. "Yeah, I think I'm going to."

Tony stopped and put his hand on my shoulder. He leaned in, and I sensed his worry, "Caleb," he said slowly, "you saved my life and from what I've seen, you seem like a decent guy, so I'm going to give you some advice." He took a breath, "Get out while you can." His blue eyes looked deeply into my own, silently pleading. "Working for my father…it's not worth it. No matter what he's offering you. Once you start working for him, you don't stop."

His speech coupled with his emotions scared me. I mean, sure I knew Avellino wasn't a shining star of morality, but heck, even his own kid was scared of him.

But then I thought of Nikolai in the hospital…and Jessica fighting both for and against forces she didn't fully understand. "I have to," I told Tony.

He looked away and shook his head, "No. You don't. There's more than one solution to a problem. Just know that the deeper you go, the hard it will be to keep your head above water."

"That's very metaphorical of you," I commented, my mind elsewhere.

"Yeah well I found it at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box," Tony waved dismissively and began walking. I took a few longer strides to catch up, and we walked the rest of the way in silence.

We arrived at the main staircase and parted ways after descending the stairs. I nodded at him, which he almost reluctantly reciprocated before leaving, and I went down another hallway that would eventually lead me to the underground concrete room with the Black Court vampire.

Maybe I should get my sanity checked.

I lifted the trap door and was somewhat surprised that only darkness greeted me. I checked a clock within the room. I arrived at the correct time. I couldn't imagine Mr. Fletcher to be one to spontaneously ditch work, so I gave a mental shrug and continued down anyway. Maybe the lights would turn on as I entered.

Instead, the little light I had from the room above quickly disappeared, causing me to keep a hand against the wall as my feet caused small scuffs when I descended. Alright lights, any moment now.

I stretched out my senses and found the chilling, abnormal cold that was the mind of Mr. Fletcher. Before I withdrew by reflex, I registered a tame eagerness similar to that of a cat waiting to bat around a mouse. I hesitated only for a moment while I deciphered his intentions. Then I understood. He wanted to spar. In the dark.

My stomach fluttered. Well heck. It felt nice to go a day without something bruised, cracked, or broken. If what Mr. Fletcher told me was true, he was more than a skeleton whose skin forgot to fall off. While I doubted he would kill me, I didn't think any sparring encounter with him would be pleasant.

"Mr. Fletcher," I called, "This wouldn't happen to be a lesson of common sense?"

From the darkness Mr. Fletcher chuckled, "I'm afraid you won't be able to avoid all conflicts Mr. Decter, regardless of common sense. Instead we'll focus on worst case scenarios. Tonight I wish to test the limits of your psychosensory abilities. Now, if you'll please step into the main room and focus your mind on me."

The feeling of uneasiness grew and continued to worsen as I reopened my mind to Mr. Fletcher's enough to understand his general thoughts and senses. I saw glimpses of myself through his eyes. His eyes somehow pierced through the darkness without need of light, albeit he perceived the world now in shades of grey. He emanated the coldness of a calculating predator. Not a pleasant feeling given I was the only other living thing in the room with him.

I worked to calm myself despite this knowledge. I mean, I faced a mob of vampires just hours ago right? What's one more? With those disturbing thoughts I took a breath and walked forward until the wall against my hand disappeared.

I took another few small steps forward, but I struggled not to trip. "What do you sense?" Came Mr. Fletcher's voice.

I closed my eyes. Keeping them open wasn't helping anyway. "I see myself and the room in shades of grey," I answered.

"Good. What else?"

I shuddered, "Your mind, it's cold-" I gritted my teeth for saying something so stupid.

"I understand you don't wish to appear afraid in my presence," Mr. Fletcher's voice echoed, "but I'm fully aware of your apprehension, despite your ability to hide it. My family of vampires exudes a natural sense of dread onto mortals. I imagine its effects are magnified on a person of your abilities, but I must prepare you for situations you may find yourself in. So please, continue."

My frustration started to build, "Your mind is physically painful to assess," I finally stated. Surprise briefly replaced my frustration as I realized the truth of that statement. When I got no response I continued, "And you yourself are assessing me right now like you would any prey."

"Interesting," He mused, "You must utilize these powers in your confrontations with the Red Court."

No duh.

"You must go deeper, into thoughts and impulses of your enemy. Learn where they will strike before it begins."

Tell me something I don't know, "I've tried before, but people move quick."

"Then we should begin so that your vampire enemies appear slow in comparison."

Uh-Oh. "Wait a min-"

He moved fast. My psychosenses gave me a moment's heads up to shift into a defensive stance before the first blow hit. The slight movement saved me from being knocked to the ground, but even so a force to the chest caused me to stumble. Nothing went through me, so he was probably holding back.

I took two steps backward before I felt his foot against my stomach launching me who knows how far across the room. I kept the momentum, rolling back onto my feet. I lost concentration on Fletcher's mind and therefore his position in relation to me.

"You'd be dead now Mr. Decter," Mr. Fletcher's voice tisked from the darkness, "Focus. Open your mind to pierce the darkness. Prepare yourself for the strike."

The frustration turned to anger. What did he know about me? Who was he to keep bashing me in the dark lecturing about powers that even he didn't understand?

I stretched out my senses once more and fought through the numbing sensation, focusing on Mr. Fletcher's mind. I saw through his eyes when he advanced. I raised my hand to block on the left and felt the blow on my right.

"Dammit!" I swore. The force caused me to spin, and something swept under my ankle, causing me to fall. I could already tell I'd bruised my right pectoral and probably my tailbone.

I already realized my mistake when Mr. Fletcher remarked, "Remember the perspective Mr. Decter. Your own movements will be mirrored of what you see. An attacker's right will be your body's left." His voice became condescending, "Now please Mr. Decter, I expected more from you."

I knew his quips were meant to goad me, but emotions could also be used to fuel my powers. Instead of calming my emotions, I focused them. I rolled partially back onto the palms of my hands before pushing off the ground, extending my hips and legs up and forward. I landed on my feet with my will gathered and hands at the ready, watching myself through Mr. Fletcher's mind even as I struck with psychic force.

"Aha, here we go," came Mr. Fletcher's satisfied voice. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought he was enjoying this.

When the vampire jumped at me, I dove to the side, trusting Mr. Fletcher's eyesight to avoid diving into a wall. I rolled before coming back to my feet. His mind telegraphed a high hit, which I ducked under, and another sweeping kick I managed to leap back from. All the while I continued my mental assault.

"Good Mr. Decter," Mr. Fletcher commented.

The fact he wasn't even discomforted perturbed me, and I renewed my efforts with greater intensity. When he closed in, I side-stepped another blow, but even with him telegraphing his movements, I barely had time to lift my left arm in a parry.

The hook came hard and fast. It made contact with my forearm causing an explosion of stabbing agony. His arm continued only to stop against my temple. I let out a short scream before Mr. Fletcher spoke over me, "You're dead again Mr. Decter." The faint pressure of a knuckle disappeared.

The pain in my forearm turned from stabbing to throbbing. I instinctively clasped it gently with my other hand and gritted my teeth in pain. "Explain to me what went wrong," Mr. Fletcher commanded.

I continued letting out sounds of discomfort, glimpsing his observations of my arm, "You fractured my arm!" I grunted in angry surprise.

Mr. Fletcher sighed, "You have a minor bone fracture Mr. Decter, you still have an arm," he then added, "and your life." He paused before repeating the question, "Now explain to me what went wrong during our exchange."

I have a psychotic vampire for a teacher. "I let you get close," I said through a few controlled breaths. I wish I could say I worked to control my anger, but really my arm just hurt. A lot.

"And why is that a problem?" he asked.

"Because vampires break bones when they're near them," I answered.

"Or worse," Mr. Fletcher added. The room lit up, and the invisible sources cast a pale light on the grey concrete of the training facility. Mr. Fletcher wore a black training robe. The looseness of the uniform emphasized his thin frame, especially the gloves that clung to the bones of his hand. His cloudy eyes gaze intently at me, and between that and the stretched skin covering his face, I didn't think I'd ever get used to it.

Mr. Fletcher clasped his hands behind his back as he slowly paced with measured steps, "You did well for our first sparring session, but I'm afraid you will need to do much better if you are to survive what's next."

Great. Here we go again.

"Your ability to look inside an enemy's mind is a powerful tool, and you must learn to apply it. To be able to correctly predict choices before they make them will be difficult. I intentionally brought them to my surface thoughts this time, but in time I trust your ability to gaze and interpret your opponent's impulses."

I raised an eyebrow, "And why's that? You already 'killed' me twice in five minutes."

Mr. Fletcher gave a smirk that sent chills down my spine. "I have faith in your potential Caleb. You may have thought I was analyzing 'prey' so to speak," he began, "I was in fact analyzing the deadliness of a weapon."

I felt a second wave of chills as he continued. "You have the potential to become something quite remarkable Mr. Decter, but it will only be realized when you stop being afraid."

"What can I say?" I responded angrily, "I'm not used to being hunted by vamp-"

"I do not mean your enemies!" Mr. Fletcher spat. "You are afraid of yourself!'

I stood speechless.

"I see within you a true force to be reckoned with," Mr. Fletcher whispered, his voice tinged with something similar to awe. That voice turned sour, "But you're so afraid of that power that you are willing to cast it aside."

Between him and Avellino looking to turn me into a tool for their own devices, I couldn't keep from shooting back, "Oh yeah? And what if I don't want this?" I shot back.

Mr. Fletcher stopped pacing and turned towards me.

With this angry outburst, the negative emotions I buried in the last few days rose to the surface. "What if I don't want to know people's thoughts? Their fears? Their anger?" My voice began to crack, "What if I don't want to know their thoughts of greed, murder, or lust?" I choked and looked down, "Their pain? Their regret?" I looked back at him, "What if I can't keep living with it?"

Mr. Fletcher gave a small shrug and said simply, "Then you are weak."

I eyed his calm expression while balling my fists in anger.

"But you are not weak," Mr. Fletcher continued after a pause. "You are a hypocrite." I opened my mouth to retort but he spoke over me, "I've read the reports. You speak of experiencing the worst of humanity, yet you risk your life to help others. How can you do so knowing each person you save holds within them a part of the worst that humanity has to offer?"

He shook his head and approached me, "Do you honestly believe there are true saints in this world? I assure you, while some may come close, none exist, but you know what does exist?" He closed the distance between us, and I averted my gaze, "Power," he answered, I could feel a portion of the hunger he felt as he spoke the word. "Real power, Mr. Decter. Nothing lives unless the person with power allows it." His voice sounded closer as he leaned down, "You are afraid of the darkness in those you face. Well Mr. Decter, I have an observation for you to consider. The world is a dark place. You have to decide if it's still worth saving." Sounds of footsteps followed the voice away, "Not that it matters anyway."

I should know better than to ask, "And why's that?"

Mr. Fletcher whirled around, "Because as of now, you can't save them!" he spoke harshly, "How do you plan to help others when you can't help yourself? How do you even plan to survive? Your abilities rely on your will, but if your will is divided against itself, what good is it?" He stopped himself, breathing slowly and spoke in a gentler tone, "You cannot deny yourself of what you are Mr. Decter anymore than any beast can deny itself of its own nature. Not if you want to survive, and especially if you want to help anyone."

I finally lifted my head and glared defiantly into his cloudy eyes, "And what am I?"

Mr. Fletcher shook his head, "I could not tell you Mr. Decter, as that is something you must answer yourself for it to have any meaning."

Ok I had just about enough of this crap, "Bullshit!" I nearly shouted.

Mr. Fletcher cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.

"You come to me asking me to destroy my mind for the sake of some sick game of yours, after I risked my life for your boss, and you have the audacity to tempt me into letting myself become consumed by this power?" I asked incredulously. "I didn't even ask to be here!" I reminded, my voice rising, "Your buddy Avellino black mailed me, so at the very least up your manipulation game if you're not going to keep the facts straight." My chest heaved a little. Mostly from anger, but I knew there was a chance, an incredibly small chance, Mr. Fletcher would just kill me in the blink of an eye.

A few heart pounding seconds went by before Mr. Fletcher's lips turned into a half smile and a small chuckle passed through his lips. "You amuse me Mr. Decter. You actually believe you wouldn't have joined Mr. Avellino's project had he not contacted you directly? Remember you can leave whenever you want." He shook his head, "Truth be told, you would've come regardless. At least believe that much."

I shook my head. I was only in this because Nikolai was in the hospital, and I only considered staying because Jessica was involved. If those factors weren't there, I'd leave.

…Right?

"At any rate, you are wise to question everyone's motives here," Mr. Fletcher continued lightly, "if unwise in other aspects." He gave a small shrug, "While I admit I have more in mind than what's on the surface," his expression sobered, "believe me what we share the same goal. Keeping you alive. If you wish to accomplish this, you would do well to heed my advice."

"I'm not sacrificing myself for the sake of power," I told him sourly.

Mr. Fletcher turned his hands palm-side up in a sign of openness, "My dear Mr. Decter, I never asked you to sacrifice yourself to this power." He showed me rotten teeth in a cracked yellow smile, "I'm merely asking you to embrace it."

More uncomfortable chills.

Mr. Fletcher regarded my arm, "Mrs. Darwight will take care of that for you Mr. Decter once we're finished."

"What, we're not finished?" I asked, gingerly holding my forearm.

"Oh Mr. Decter," the vampire replied, "we are only just beginning."

And just like that, the lights went out again.

I had to ask.