27th July, 1987
Auri POV
"Miss Tabella, please leave the premises forthwith." Lieutenant-Colonel Yarking instructs. I stand, salute, and march out of the room.
My bags are already packed and secured to the back of my motorbike; I head towards it, fighting back my anger. A guitar case leans against the gleaming body.
'Keep fighting, Ace. The A Team.' Is painted on it, as well as a couple of pictures of the shoulder insignia and a stamp from Grenada. Tears almost spring to my eyes, as I think of their faces. It had been a gift for my birthday, but we were deployed out the day before. It must have been delivered by a different team, as I was the only one that came back.
At the age of 18, I was scouted to join G Squadron, the Delta force dedicated to clandestine operations. It was unheard of, to recruit a woman, but I aced all of the tests, doing better than most ever had. At first, I had been put into the 'recce' troop, but it was soon realized that I was far better in the assault troop after a mission went awry. I should have been awarded some sort of military recognition for the events, but the Delta force commander wanted to keep my existence a secret. It wasn't like I had a family or friends that would care. I threw my life into the force, even though I was paid far less than any of my male counterparts. From February to June, my team and I were deployed out into Russia, to rescue a CIA agent being held hostage. Shit happens in a Cold War, and we got caught up in some of the worst of it.
A tattered concert poster catches my attention: Performing Monkee; I know the band, and it's one of my favorites, so I look closer. They were playing across the country, but the only gig I'd be able to make was in Santa Carla, a 41 hour journey away. There's a loud bang from the training grounds and my brain instantly shuts off, my hands grasping at a gun that's not there. It takes a couple of minutes to recover, and when my mind has flickered back to life, I realize that I really need to get away from this place, this life. It may mean living rough for a while, but so would most options. I run a hand over my face, trying to decide. Wincing in pain, I berate myself for forgetting about the injuries, and the makeup used to cover them. It does not take long for me to make up my mind. To Santa Carla I go.
31st July, 1987
Santa Carla is the distraction that I need, with bright lights and buzzing people, even if every electrical hum or hand on my leg sends me right back to Russia. I had arrived just before the concert, parking my motorbike and burrowing into the crowd.
Without even realizing it, I am scanning the masses, checking for abnormalities, or suspicious body language, or even concealed weapons. As the band comes onto the stage, I see a young man staring intently at a girl across from him. She is surrounded by a group of bikers who look like trouble. I make a mental note to steer clear of them. The music plays, everyone undulating and writhing to it. Even though it makes me stand out, I stand completely still, as quiet as death. I can feel gazes fixed on me, and know it's the troublesome boys. Not giving them the satisfaction of eye contact, I start moving through the crowd in such a way that they won't be able to see me for more than a few seconds at a time, if they can find me at all.
In G Squadron, my team was the best of the best; our missions were the most secret and had the worst consequences should they fail. Even so, we were not cold hearted killers, most of the time. It was an honor to be selected to join, and one that I hadn't seen coming. My team hadn't expected a woman to join them either, but despite it, we became famed for how close-knit we were. Inseparable. There were rumors that we could communicate telepathically. Their smiling faces flash in front of my eyes. After that, the crowds and the heat swiftly become too much for me so I retreat back to my bike. It is parked in a dark alleyway, surrounded on all sides but one, making it the perfect place to defend from. Not that that should matter here. Completely worn out, I drift off to sleep.
Only a couple of hours later, I wake, my screams shooting through the dark alley. I know from the last month that sleep will evade me for the rest of the night, and probably the subsequent one. The side of my face feels odd, and I get out a small mirror, hating the thing that looked back. Most of my makeup is intact, concealing the scars, but I renew it, just in case. Rising from my seat, I get onto my bike and ride around the small town, familiarizing myself with every corner. I feel incomplete without a target or mission to fulfill and my life feels empty.
1st August, 1987
When the sun rises, I start busking on the boardwalk, my case open and begging for money. Playing with gloves on is a struggle, but I make do, not wanting people to see what's underneath. My whole body is covered, in some way, from my face, heavy with makeup, to my over-sized jacket that covers my neck. Boys dressed in vaguely military clothes keep coming and going all day; I keep an eye on them, just in case.
Night falls and the boardwalk gets busier. The trickle of money barely increases though, not that I am surprised. I think back to the flautist in the streets of Berlin and fervently wish that I had given him something. Red stains my vision and his body is splayed on that damp street, a bullet through his head. I shiver, realizing I have stopped playing.
The roar of engines makes me turn, as I watch five motorbikes speed away. The boy that was staring last night is with them. That can only mean trouble. I consider following, just to make sure that they don't kill him, and the idea solidifies in my mind. At the very least, I'll find out who they are, and how to exploit their weaknesses. The thought is callous, but I don't have the security to second-guess myself, so I hide my guitar with my bike and follow their tracks to an isolated bluff. I am constantly checking for traps or signs of movement in the rocks as I edge closer, finding myself a place to hide where even trained eyes won't find me. Their conversation drifts up to me.
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning slices my vision in two. The darkness of my cell, grinning faces, the pain as the knife falls again and again and again, these memories swallow me whole as I clench my hands into fists, focusing on not screaming. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Footsteps sound and the boys troop out of the cave, leaving the girl inside, meaning that I can't recce it. Bollocks. They speed off and I jog the few miles back to the boardwalk.
My belongings are untouched, and I scoop the change out of the case, taking it into an off-license and buying a bottle of vodka. Strange looks are thrown my way, but I barely notice, autopilot kicking in. Once back in the alley, I lean against the bike, trying to drown my sorrows. My team's faces burn like brands when I close my eyes. It does not take long for me to empty the bottle, head fuzzy. The only clarity is the cold floor and the icy world. My vision spins and my head hits the floor, the world going black.
2nd August, 1987
When I come to, the sun is low on the horizon. I stretch, my countless wounds protesting, joints aching and throbbing. I can't believe that I managed to sleep for so long; I must have been really stoned. A scuffling erupts at the open end of the alley, and a wild eyed surf nazi stumbles in. His gaze fixates on me, smile becoming predatory as he stalks towards me. I know what he wants, and have seen that expression far too many times. My hands curl into fists as I leap up, throwing a punch to his nose. He stumbles back, but rage consumes me and I slam him onto the floor, beating him until my hands bleed. Tears stream uncontrollably down my face, for my team, for him, and for my own broken self.
I start my bike and speed out, leaving his mangled corpse there. They'll never know it was me; I barely exist on official records. Too late, I remember my collection of dog tags, stashed behind a loose brick. I can't go back now. Instead, I speed around the town, restless. After a while, I settle down, getting out my guitar but leaving the case closed. I don't need their charity. It's therapeutic to hear those familiar chords, even if they jar my nerves. I think back to the last time I played, with my team. We all had an instrument, and it was a running joke that we would form a heavy metal band when we retired. Now, they weren't ever going to retire. The boardwalk has quietened down and I check my watch: 2:32. It's not worth continuing playing, and I am packing my guitar away when the roar of engines meets my ears.
Instantly, I crouch in a defensive position, retaining a look of nonchalance as I continue what I am doing. Maybe, they'll drive past. I have no such luck as they skid to a halt right in front of me. I assess them, naming them in my head.
Bravo 1- The young man levels an amused stare at me with icy blue eyes and his full lips tilt up into a smirk, giving him an aura of control. I know physical tells well enough to recognize the lie. He is dressed like many in this town, with lots of leather and metal, but he wears it better than most, as if the clothes were made for him. He seems to want to make a statement, with his platinum mullet and earring. What statement, I am not sure. The way that he sits astride his bike oozes hard-earned dominance and leadership, but there is an edge of danger to him that I do not like. His knuckles are white on the handles of his bike, gripping it far too hard. Potentially, he could be reliving something, but any more than that, I do not want to know. In truth, he could be a threat if he decides to get nasty, but there is something that I can't quite place that makes me more wary than usual. The guy is a switchblade, cold, indifferent and capable of damage.
Bravo 2- The next man is Hispanic or Native American, and although he sits in shadow, I can make out a chiseled jaw and dark eyes. He is easily the tallest in the group and the way he sits gives me an ache of familiarity. He must have received some sort of training, albeit meager, as the majority of his posture is civilian. His chest length hair is glossy and well cared for, but his worn jacket tells a different story, juxtaposing each other. Like Bravo 1, he makes a statement with his clothes, but his is quieter. In fact, most of him seems to be quieter, almost hanging back as the others force forward. From his guarded expression, I can tell that he is assessing me too, but I know he won't find anything. He is probably the tactician, and also the hardest to take, due to his size and generous muscle. This man is a snake, calculating, poised and deadly.
Bravo 3- The third man is young, and from the smell of him, high on weed. The way he smiles is totally wild, with no restraint, making him likely the first to attack. His green eyes are a little unfocused, but it is easy to see the threat lurking in them. A smear of blood sits on his neck, but he doesn't seem to care. Evidently, it is not his own, further adding to my assumption about this gang's unreliability. His teased hair floats in the still air, creating a halo around his head. Like his clothes, it doesn't seem to get much attention, further adding to his 'one foot in the grave' persona. The way he sits on his bike is jarring to me, and part of me desperately wants to correct him. He is like a live wire, untrained and feral but when earthed, he will start ticking.
Bravo 4- The last man is more of a boy, and he seems a little softer than the other three. His baby blue eyes are shadowed, but they do not hold the same violence. The way he smiles is a little unhinged, matching his crazy jacket and exuberant hair. What little control Bravo 3 had, this man lacks, practically vibrating with pent-up energy. His thumb catches between his teeth in what looks to be a nervous tic. He is smaller than the rest of the group, furthering his boyish looks, but there is no mistaking the layer of muscle across his abdomen. He seems to be the loudest out of all of them, showcased by his extroverted style and grinning face. No tactics would be applied when it came to him, just instinct. And, depending on his level of instinct, he could make quite an adversary. This boy is a bomb, practically counting down until his explosion.
Bravo 1 smirks, eyes running over my guitar case.
"So, Ace, what are you doing out here?" He asks, leaning back. The title makes fire shoot through my veins.
"That's not my name." I growl, trying to block out the screaming in my head. They all snicker at this; Bravo 4 bites his thumb harder. I resist the urge to fidget with my gloves.
"You haven't answered my question." Bravo 1 taunts. I master my emotions, standing up and leaning against my bike, ready to go at the first hint of a fight. I can most likely take them. Even so, I don't want to be marked as a threat, or someone to test strength upon, so I let tears well up in my eyes.
"It was my husband's name. He died, and now I have nowhere to live, so busking is the only way that I can make money." False emotion rings through my voice.
"I'm sure that a pretty girl like yourself could find far more... lucrative professions." Bravo 3 offers. I slide down a mask of wariness, even though it is pure rage that consumes me. How dare he suggest that I whore myself out?
"I can't do that to him." I murmur, watching for their reactions.
"What did this husband of yours do?" Bravo 1 questions. I look at the case and back to him.
"He was part of Delta force. He didn't tell me much else." I chew on my gloved finger, giving them a clear sign that I am very nervous. They share a look, before nodding and speeding off. I exhale angrily. The pricks. Carefully, I sit on my bike, keeping watch for the rest of the night.
3rd August, 1987
Dawn paints the sand and sea red, red like blood. Two boys suddenly shoot out from the comic store, wielding stakes and wearing even more military clothing. I have heard, in passing, of these crazy brothers who seem to think that vampires are plaguing the town. They are a running joke, even if something in their beliefs runs true. Be that as it may, it looks as if they are on a warpath and I listen intently to their conversation, trying to figure out where they are headed.
"Head of the coven... kill them all... the earth is better without them..."
"Sam and Michael... what if he turns... Hudson's bluff..."
"Stake him too." They disappear out of sight and I sprint off in the direction of the isolated bluff where the Bravos were hanging out, figuring that it'd be the one they were talking about. My body practically screams the entire way, and I am forced to slow down as the wooden stairs come into sight. Concealing myself in the same place as before, I decide to wait for them, in case it is an idle threat, or some odd fantasy world that they live in.
The supernatural has never been a thought that I have entertained particularly. I knew some who swore that they had seen ghosts, but it wasn't enough to make me believe, not when I knew the real monsters wore human skins. If they were vampires, they didn't deserve to die, as eating humans would be as natural as us eating meat. Sure, it made them top of the food chain, but if all the sheep rebelled every time someone ate lamb, there would be no world, pretty much. The thought of hating a species because they preyed on your own didn't sit right with me. I knew that it made me a hypocrite, but I couldn't stand by as they were murdered. My team wouldn't have.
A car pulls up on the track, driven by the boy from the concert. His face is pale and he wears a dark pair of shades. The military brothers get out, looking far too excited for what they are about to do. They talk for a while, and I take my chance, climbing across the rocks and silently descending the wooden stairs into the dark cave interior.
An acrid smell pushes itself up my nose as I descend into the gloom. Fires flicker low in oil drums and bits of see-through fabric hang from the ceiling. A wheelchair sits like a throne at the head of a circle. Footsteps sound behind me, and I descend into operation mode, scanning the possible spaces to conceal myself. A ladder leans against a rocky wall at the mouth of a tunnel that leads deeper into the cave; I take it, finding myself in a freezing, damp room, so much like a cell. My mind is blank, no emotions filtering through as I regard the four men hanging upside down before me. A flash of inspiration has me taking Bravo 1's face in my hand, clenching my fingers around his chin. Golden eyes meet mine, but I put a finger to my lips.
"They're coming for you." I whisper, gesturing up the tunnel. The others stir, dropping to their feet and looking as if to attack. I hold my hand out. "Don't you dare go after them." I hiss, turning on my heel and sprinting up the tunnel. They follow behind me, but I am too busy scanning for the boys to care. I launch myself from the top of the ledge, landing seamlessly on the hard floor. My body protests, but I block it out entirely.
Footsteps pound through the cave, as the driver of the car makes his escape, carrying the child I had seen a couple of nights ago.
"Look!" A voice yells, and I turn to the source to see one of the military brothers pointing at me. The other charges from behind me, a stake in his hand. Instantly, I disarm him, pinning his struggling form to the ground. His eyes widen in terror.
"Don't worry kid. I'm not gonna hurt you, just get outta here whilst you still can. Drive and don't stop." I put a command into the end of my voice, and he nods, scrambling up and pulling his brother along with him. The driver stumbles back in, instantly grabbing the young woman and fleeing again. I exhale, only to hear a strangled whimper. The youngest boy is on the ground, ankle twisted at an odd angle. I can practically sense the vampires behind me, but I kneel next to the boy all the same.
"Can you walk?" I ask harshly. He shakes his head, so I pull him into my arms and set off running. The wooden stairs squeal, but soon enough, we are at the top of the cliff. I deposit the boy into the back of the car to wide-eyed expressions of shock.
"What are you?" One of the military brothers rasps. I shrug.
"Guardian demon?" I try to smile but can't. "Go now. Never come back, for they will want vengeance." The pale boy nods, starting the car and speeding off. Clouds of dust fly up in their wake, and I pray that that's the last I will ever see of them. My walls crash down around me, and emotions flood in. I haven't felt that level of adrenaline since my last op. It truly terrifies me.
I sink to my knees in the sunlight, screaming as the faces of my team flash before my eyes. The sea pounds below me, creating a rhythm which I rock to. Ghostly hands are all over my body, my consciousness. I barely think about the vampires, or the boys that escaped, instead thinking about my team, how their lives were cut short, and how mine wasn't worth living. Gabriel, Joshua, Peter, Ruben, Ben, Zach, Daniel, Luis, Steven, James, Roger, Thomas and me. Auri, unlucky number 13. Maybe I could join them. No. There is no way I would go to the same place as them. The moon is rising as I stand, pacing to the cliff edge. Below me, a ferocious sea beats jagged rocks. There's no way I could survive. I lean forward, teetering on the edge, silent tears running down my face. Darkness beckons.
4th August 1987
A hand suddenly grabs my arm, pulling me back from the edge. It's Bravo 2. The touch has me jolting out of the place, the acceptance I had sunk into; I am now consumed with fear and rage. Without thinking, I deck him, pinning his struggling limbs. My knee presses against his neck. His eyes dart to somewhere above my shoulder, and I know that there is someone there. Two more figures emerge from the darkness and I am surrounded. Bravo 1 chuckles, his smile a slash in the dark.
"Your husband taught you well." He reaches a bare hand out towards my face. I shy away from the touch. He knew that I was broken, and at risk of snapping completely; I could see it in his eyes. He fishes in his pocket, pulling out a handful of black dog tags. The sight is all it takes for me to break. I run at him, snarling my wrath and grabbing the tags. With them in my hand, I retreat to the edge of the cliff.
"Please, don't jump." Bravo 4 calls, running a hand through his hair. "We can give you somewhere to live... we owe you; you saved our lives." I laugh bitterly, cradling the tags.
"Fuck off. Let me die in peace." I say harshly, fixing my gaze on the sea.
"No." Bravo 3 has come down from yesterday's high and reaches out a hand.
"Don't you dare touch me." I growl.
"Why?" Bravo 1 asks. I just shake my head.
"Just let me go. There's no one here to miss me." I reason, tears streaming down my face.
"No. You just saved our lives, when you barely know us and then saved the pricks who tried to kill us. I want to know why, so I'm not letting you die until I have my answer." Bravo 1 smirks as he delivers the line.
"You mother-fucking son of a bitch." I rasp. "What is the point living in a world where people like you think they have control? No, my husband died for this country, and I have had enough of seeing the worst of the worst act like they fucking own it!" I really mean my team, but keep to my story, seething with anger.
"Why do you have all of those tags? Surely you only have one husband." Bravo 3 points out.
"Family." I mutter, glancing at them. It's the truth. They were my family.
"How much did your husband teach you?" Bravo 2 asks. I can see what they're doing. They can feel that something isn't right and want to get to the bottom of it. It has the added bonus of stopping me from jumping. But, I realize, I only want to jump because I think that I'll see my team, be able to tell them that I'm sorry. What if there's nothing else? That stops me. I sit with a sigh on the cold grass. The Bravos do too, and I feel a bit more comfortable. Marginally.
"Just the basics of hand to hand combat." I reply, staring at the tags. Ruben's has some blood on it. The flaky texture almost has me gagging, until I remember that it's not his.
"I've never seen someone fight like that." Bravo 1 muses. The observation is too close to home, and I am instantly on edge again. I can't stay here.
"I'm going." I slide the tags into my pocket and start to walk away. Bravo 2 stands and follows. I glare at him. "Fuck off." I tell him. He shakes his head.
"I need to make sure that you'll be alright." The concern is genuine in his voice and it pisses me off.
"I don't need protection. I'm a fucking De- no." I cut myself off, not wanting to reveal the truth.
"What?" He tries to draw the information out.
"Self sufficient. I did take you down, so sling it, vampire creep." His eyebrow raises at my accusation.
"I didn't think you knew." He says. I roll my eyes.
"No, I just saw you hanging upside down and..." My throat closes up, remembering being in a similar position. How did they sleep like that? I force a smile to my face, but he's not fooled.
"Why don't you come and stay with us for a bit?" He asks.
"Fuck no. Living with bloodsuckers who I can't trust? Count me out." As I say it, the heavens open and rain pours down.
"Can't or won't?" The question hits something deep inside me and I stop, turning to face him.
"What do you want?" I hiss. His eyes are defeated as he opens his mouth to reply.
"I want to know why you are hopeless enough to want to commit suicide. I want to know where your mind goes when you scream. Most of all, I want to help."
"Why? Because blood tastes better when it's happy?" I spit, not knowing what else to do with his honesty. I'm looking for a fight, but he snorts instead.
"Because you saved our lives an-" He cuts off mid-sentence and doubles over in pain. He screams and my training clicks in, lowering him to the floor and laying him in the recovery position. His face is twisted in pain. The last time I saw someone looking like that... Almost as suddenly as the pain came, it goes. He stands up, dusting himself off.
"What was that?" I question icily. His face is blank.
"Nothing." He replies cagily. I sigh, knowing that they are just as frustrated with my answers.
"Okay. I'll make you a deal. I will stay on the bluff for one day, in return for having all my questions answered honestly." I offer, berating myself for the madness. He regards me for a while, mulling it over.
"Until 6 tomorrow morning." He responds; I check my watch. It's 00:28 am.
"Fine." I agree, walking off in the direction of the town.
"Where are you going?" He calls, sounding pissed. I turn, crossing my arms over my chest.
"To get my stuff. I don't want to get back tomorrow to find it has gone!" I yell back over the sound of the rain. He nods, following as I walk towards the town. Thankfully, everything is intact when I check it over. I stow the guitar case on the side and start off. Bravo 2 looks at me beseechingly, dark hair hanging limp in the rain.
"Can I go backie?" He pleads. I shake my head.
"No. I can't... my husband used to and..." I know how feeble it sounds. Bravo 2 doesn't push the point, and I ride slowly so he can keep up. By the time we get back to the cave, we are soaked through. "I did tell you to fuck off." I say to him as I dismount. He shakes his head, taking my kit bag and heading in. I grab my guitar, wanting to protest, but keeping quiet as we descend. I take the time to figure out my full legend. The other three Bravos are already seated, with Bravo 1 in the wheelchair. He sits in it like a king.
"Hello again." Bravo 1 smirks. I incline my head slightly.
"Names." I instruct. Bravo 4 bites his thumb.
"David." Bravo 1 tells me.
"Paul." Bravo 3 grins.
"Marko." Bravo 4 says, taking his thumb away.
"Dwayne." Bravo 2 holds out his hand. I shake my head, looking away quickly.
"So, what went on that caused Brav-Dwayne to get so het up?" I ask, looking around.
"Hang on. You haven't told us what you're called, darling." Paul leans back in his seat grinning.
"I'm not your darling. You can call me Jamie." I grind out.
"Jamie. Okay. The leader of our coven was killed." David explains, not bothering to beat around the bush.
"Why?" I am aware that it's insensitive, but I'm not here to make friends. To my surprise, Marko smiles.
"We turned a boy who didn't want to be a vampire. To turn someone, they drink the leader's blood. Until they feed, they are a half-vampire, meaning that the sun doesn't kill them, and they can go back to normal, if the leader dies. That's why those boys were in here today, only they got it wrong. Our leader doesn't- didn't live here with us." He doesn't seem to have taken the loss too badly; they probably weren't close, although the phrasing made a little bit of pain shoot across his face.
"Where's the girl?" I question.
"Gone. She was a half too, and in love with the boy." Rage is clear in David's tone.
"Why don't you get a change of clothes and come and sit with us?" Dwayne offers. My clothes are sticking to my skin, but that is preferable to changing in front of them.
"There's an old bathroom just through there." Marko points. It is a good option, I suppose. I can't let them see my still-healing wounds and scars. I nod, grabbing my kit bag and navigating my way down a narrow passage. Their eyes follow me into the darkness. I pull out my torch, a yellow beam of light flooding the small room. I change into a baggy tank top and cargo pants, then a hoodie and a denim jacket. My boots are soaking but I put them back on regardless. I make sure that the protective layer of makeup on my face isn't dislodged, then stow my wet things in my kit bag and return to where they're sitting. Silently, I pad towards them, leaving my bag with the guitar case. The dog tags are all around my neck. I sit on a low box, drinking in the clutter. It grounds me, just a bit, as there are so many easy hiding spots.
"Why don't you let your boots dry by one of these?" David gestures to an oil drum. I don't particularly want to, but nod, removing them and swiftly tucking my feet under me.
"So, Jamie, who was your husband?" Paul asks suddenly.
"Ruben." I answer, letting my voice shake a bit.
"How did he die?" David leans forward, elbows on his knees. I try to relax my posture, but fail.
"I don't know. I don't know fucking anything. He's dead, and all I want to do is join him." I make my shoulders slump. A tense silence ensues.
"What's with the gloves?" Marko shatters it.
"It's how I remember him." I lie, a little too quickly. Their gazes become more intense.
"Where's the ring?" Paul questions. He makes a good point, but, due to my training, I know how to counteract it.
"It was lost in a fire. Look, can we please stop talking about him? It... it makes me feel like I'm drowning." I let my chin wobble and my eyes brim with tears. My stomach gives a quiet rumble.
"When was the last time you ate?" Dwayne looks at me with concern. The feeling is foreign, and I don't deserve it.
"It doesn't matter." I say wearily.
"When?" Dwayne presses.
"A week ago, maybe more." I admit. David jumps up.
"I'll go get something." He strides out before I can protest.
"You ride like something else." Dwayne muses. I keep my gaze in my lap, too tired to respond. Sleep tugs at my eyelids but I refuse, unwilling to leave myself so unguarded. I focus on counting the things around the room. My gaze fixes on an 'Apocalypse Now' poster; Captain Willard stares at me from out of it. Paul and Marko snicker, and I realize the implications to his statement. Dwayne does too, wincing.
"Fuck you." I say quietly, curling into myself a bit.
"What do you drink?" Paul asks, out of the blue.
"Whatever's going." I reply.
"Any favorites?" He presses.
"Vodka." I tell him without any hesitation. My eyes catch on a 'From Russia With Love' movie poster, and I shiver, diverting my attention back to the boys in front of me. David comes in, drenched with rain and looking like a drowned rat. There is a takeaway in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. He holds it up, grinning.
"Happy?" He asks, starting to unpack the food with help from Marko.
"Ecstatic. Do you communicate telepathically?" I ask. They stop what they are doing, glancing between each other.
"Yes." David answers roughly. I nod, swiping the vodka from the table. I unscrew the lid, the smell making me feel... there. Dwayne frowns.
"This is what you do, isn't it? You drink away the truth that you're hiding from. That's pathetic." He sounds angry, but his words don't hit their mark.
"Yeah." I agree.
"Stop. Face up to it, or you'll go over the edge." He pleads. The other boys are watching now, all with various expressions of anger written across their faces.
"There is no fucking edge." I say silkily, taking a long drink from the bottle.
"This is madness. No one deals with grief like this." Paul spits. "You're hiding something." I shrug.
"Aren't we all?" Recklessness runs through me, probably due to the vodka.
"Jamie, this isn't right. Please, let us help you." Marko's voice is soft, but the recklessness turns to anger.
"Why do you care? A fucking life-debt doesn't cover this." I growl, clenching my hands into fists.
"No. In the vampire world, we have special connections with people. Sometimes, we can feel them before the person in question is turned, and we... we have felt one with you." Dwayne explains quietly.
"I don't want a fucking connection! I'm not worth it, I don't deserve it, I can't... No." I break off, curling in on myself.
"Why do you say that?" David looks intrigued.
"Fuck off." I mumble, nursing the vodka. Dwayne opens his mouth but I beat him to it. "I know that I'm pathetic, and I know that no one deals with grief like this, but I can't change anything. Just let me sleep." I curl up on the box, careful to keep my feet out of sight. The dark swallows me whole.
A pair of hands claw at my wrist, and a petrified face begs me not to stop. Their body goes limp, and I start screaming... I jolt awake, shrieks echoing through the cave. Immediately, the vampires come swooping in, ready to defend. Too late, I realize that my glove has fallen off. I conceal my hand behind my back, hoping they don't notice.
"Are you alright?" Marko asks, looking concerned.
"Yeah, fine. Just a dream, go back to sleep. Sorry." I add sheepishly. David's eyes go wide.
"I thought I'd never see the day." He quips mockingly, gaze intense. I roll my eyes.
"What did you see?" Paul questions. Immediately, a lie springs to mind.
"They came to tell me that he was dead... and then I was cradling him in my arms as his blood ran down me. There was so much blood..." I whimper, fixing beseeching eyes on all of them. They shift uncomfortably.
"You must have loved him very much." Dwayne says gently. I nod.
"More than life itself. I would have... I would have damned my immortal soul..." My throat closes up. "It was just a dream. Please, go back to sleep and leave me be."
"No, I'm going to stay. I don't need any more sleep, so it makes sense." Marko says, taking a seat on an upturned crate. The other three troop back down to where they slept, sending glances back the entire time.
"Seriously, Marko, you should go. I'm not going back to sleep, or anything. It doesn't matter." I tell him.
"Will you talk then, to pass the time?" He asks. I nod, drawing all my focus to my legend; I can't mess this up. "Where did you meet your husband?"
"He was an instructor for a self-defense course that I went on. It was love at first sight." I sigh dreamily, pretending to remember.
"What was he like?" Marko's face is restless, his lips and jaw constantly moving.
"Perfect." I reply. My gaze travels around the room, flicking between the surfboards and the 'Apocalypse Now' poster.
"Charlie don't surf." Marko quotes, grinning.
"I love the smell of napalm in the morning." I quote back, managing to lift the corners of my mouth slightly. "Ruben served in 'Nam. He was on- no. He never told me what happened." Marko's eyes narrow.
"You can tell us. It's not like we can go running to the press, or would; the risks are too high for us." His tone is pissed off, most likely because he wanted to learn something else about Ruben.
"Yeah, I guess so." I murmur noncommittally.
"You really don't strike me as a stay at home wife." Marko muses.
"I wasn't. I did accountancy." I bite out, hating the idea.
"Even so, waiting around whilst your husband goes off to godforsaken places..." He trails off, smirking. I clench my hands into fists, the pain it brings helping me to bear the tormenting. Reaching down to retrieve the glove, I keep my hand hidden, deciding that I wanted both hands available to flip him off with. Marko watches intently as I shield my hands from his view, pulling the glove on. I turn back around, reaching for a half-eaten tub of noodles. Marko laughs as I practically inhale them, realizing how hungry I am. A flash of lightning splits my vision and I can vaguely hear Marko saying something, but can't make out the words.
"No Gabriel... I'm so sorry... I can't!" I scream, his head in my lap. A pair of hands reach for me, and I whimper, curling up into a protective ball.
"Jamie!" The name jolts me out of the memories, and I take deep breaths, clutching my arms around myself. Everyone is looking at me with fear in their eyes.
"Are you alright?" Paul asks.
"Yes, I'm fine. It was nothing." I shake my head.
"It wasn't nothing; you were screaming for hours." Dwayne says, grimacing. Hours? No. I check my watch, blinking a few times. It's 10:18 pm.
"Oh." Is all I respond with, barely able to believe it.
"Fucking oh?! This isn't about your husband, is it?" Paul's face is still glazed in shock. I don't know what to say, until a suitable half lie springs to mind.
"I've never told anyone..." I whisper, schooling my features into regret, sorrow and pain. It isn't hard, as I felt that way already. "It was a group... a group of very bad men..." Tears leak from my eyes and I don't say anymore, letting them put two and two together. Dwayne realizes first, expression portraying hurt.
"Did your husband know?" He asks softly. I shake my head.
"No, it was... I couldn't... it drove us apart, a bit, and I was planning to tell him but..." I push the heel of my hand against my overflowing eyes, careful not to smear my makeup.
"Why don't we go out tonight? Not clubbing or anything, just a ride around town." David offers. I nod, waiting for them to look away before sliding my feet into my boots. They're dry now, and pleasantly warm. I pick up my bags, but Marko shakes his head.
"We'll be coming back before six. I want to see how well you ride without the luggage." He grins, a challenge on his face. I nod, darting around him and getting to my bike first. We start up, and instantly I am flying, all my training and expertise kicking in. I race ahead of them, forgetting, just for a moment. All too soon, I skid to a halt, having jumped up a wooden set of stairs to the boardwalk. They pull up on the sand below, whooping and cheering.
"Impressive." David notes, looking a little put out. Before I have a chance to reply, there is a hand on my shoulder.
"Tabella?" I whirl, about to attack when I recognize the face. It is Master Sergeant Hawkins, head of the recce troop when I joined. He retired a few years ago, but still looks the same. I surreptitiously shake my head, turning so my back is to the vampires. 'Not here.' I mouth.
"Who are you?" I ask, feigning surprise. His face creases in understanding.
"I'm so sorry, miss. You looked like a good friend of mine from behind. She likes to come here, apparently there's this one bar that's amazing. It's called 'The Sea's Wrath'." He subtly indicates a meeting place.
"Oh, yes. I've been in a few times. Midday on the dot is the best time to go, in my opinion. Anyway, I hope you find your friend." I give him a time, and he nods, thanking me, before walking off. I turn back to the vampires.
"So, where are we going?" I put false cheeriness into my voice.
"Just around, Tabella." David smirks. I pray that he doesn't remember the dog tags.
"Okay." I nod, feeling a bit numb. Can I be honest with them? Marko is right that they can't inform anyone, but what will they think? I get back on my bike and follow them across the sand.
5th August 1987
I am still mulling my dilemma over when we get back to the bluff.
"What are you going to do now?" David asks, fixing me with a stare. I think for a minute before replying.
"I'm going to busk this morning, and then..." I trail off.
"You could always come back here." Paul offers. I consider.
"Yeah, that would be good. Thanks." I accept easily, but then mentally berate myself as I collect my guitar. Sure, they were friendlies, but I shouldn't impose on their life, even if they had offered. It was too late now, so I get on my bike and speed away.
Six hours come and go in a flash, and before I know it, I am sitting in a crowded bar. It sends my nerves into a frenzy, as I wonder who is a threat. Hawkins comes striding in, finding me immediately and sitting down. I stare at my gloved hands, waiting for him to say something.
"You're a dead woman walking." He breathes, eyes wide in surprise that he had so carefully controlled earlier.
"I know." I reply, sighing.
"What happened?" He asks, staring intently.
"I can't talk about it." I shake my head. He nods, respecting my silence.
"Who were those boys?" He questions, changing the topic abruptly.
"Motorcycle gang. I saved their asses, and then they stopped me ending it all... It's a symbiotic relationship. They don't know who I am, though." I tell him. His expression is sad, as if he recognizes where I went.
"What's your legend? In case I meet them." I grimace at his question.
"I am Jamie Tarram, married to Ruben. I am a grieving widow, who lost everything in a house fire, and has been busking in Santa Carla for money. We met at a self-defense class that he was teaching. He didn't tell me much about his career. The other tags are family members. I was an accountant, and I was gang-raped, but never told him." I know he won't like my answer, because he thinks I am underselling myself if I tell people anything less than the truth.
"An accountant? Seriously? Why the last bit?" Hawkins's voice softens at the end.
"Because I keep having flashbacks. I scream for hours and don't know how much time has passed. I wake up in the middle of the night. I was going to jump off of a cliff." The words tumble out.
"You've got PTSD." Hawkins tells me gently; I nod. "I really want to help you, so why don't you leave something here, and I'll come round and drop it off. We'll get talking, because I knew Ruben, and you won't have to explain yourself to the boys. And then, they can help you too. How does that sound?" He offers. I play with the tags for a minute, before nodding.
"Thanks, that would be good. It's probably best to come around sunset." I tell him, getting up to leave.
"Wait. I'd like to know what's underneath those gloves." Hawkins says, giving me a clear choice. I sigh, sitting back down.
"You know what the Russians are like." I say, giving him a look.
"I know." He responds. I shake my head before sliding the glove off my hand. I turn my head whilst he inspects it. "Fuck." He breathes. I slide the glove back on a little too hard, taking the scab off one of the wounds. Blood leaks out, but I ignore it.
"I'll see you later. Follow the motorcycle tracks. I'll leave Gabriel's tag, but I swear if you lose it, I will kill you myself." I growl, placing the tag in front of him and stalking out. I swing on to my bike and head back to the bluff, making sure to leave obvious tracks. Descending into the dark, I notice that my kit bag has been moved, ever so slightly. A little jolt of fear rushes through me. If they had seen the photos... Most, if not all, were explainable, but it would be a hard thing to do, especially when just looking at them made me want to scream. I push the thought to the back of my head, instead sitting down in an old, overstuffed armchair and staring into space.
Dwayne is up first, slinking in silently. He's changed his jeans, and is wearing a tank top with the Poison logo on it underneath his leather jacket. Taking a seat across from me, he stretches out his large frame.
"Hey. Did you have a good day?" He asks, as if it were the most normal thing.
"Yeah, not too bad." I fidget with my glove. "Thanks." I add, as an afterthought. He smirks a bit at this, inhaling through his nose. Suddenly, his eyes flash.
"You're bleeding." He states, eyes fixed on my hand.
"I know. It won't send you crazy, will it? I can go if it will." I offer. Dwayne shakes his head.
"It's fine." He assures me. There is a tense silence. "You know," says Dwayne, breaking it, "I'm sorry about what Paul said, the first time we met you." Instantly, I know what he means, and strangely appreciate his apology.
"Water under the bridge." I try to smile, but can't. Luckily, Marko and Paul appear, jostling and punching each other good-naturedly. The sight makes my heart clench a bit, memories of myself and my team haunting me. David's not far behind, flopping into his wheelchair with a yawn.
"How do you do it Jamie?" It takes me a moment to realize that he is talking to me.
"What?" I question, playing it off as me being a bit slow.
"Stay awake this long, and not end up a wreck." David answers.
"I am a wreck, trust me, if I could sleep, I would." I reply, leaning back. There is a scuffle and Paul bursts into laughter, along with Marko. Outside, I can see that it's getting dark, so use their laughter as a cover to mutter something and disappear outside. They can't follow just yet, as the sun's rays are still slightly visible. I climb the stairs, spotting Hawkins jogging towards me.
"I've been looking for you." He says, aware that we have to fully play our parts.
"Sorry, what?" I ask, sounding confused.
"You left this on the street." He holds up Gabriel's tag.
"Oh, thanks, I guess. How did you find me?" I know that the vampires can hear every word.
"Well, I'm a retired Delta operative, so it was just some basic tracking skills." He tells me.
"Wait, a Delta operative? Did you know Ruben Tarram?" I almost sound excited.
"Yes. We served in 'Nam together. Last I heard, he had found himself a wife." Hawkins had set it up so I would have to break the news to him, giving me an excuse to take him inside.
"Yes. That's me. Why don't you come inside?" I offer, knowing that he will accept; I lead the way down the stairs, ready for the onslaught of questions from the vampires.
"I didn't think that we'd have company." Hawkins subtly asks me to introduce the vampires.
"Yes. I am Jamie, and this is David, Dwayne, Marko and Paul." I turn to the vampires. "This is... sorry, I don't know your name."
"Sam, Sam Hawkins." I gesture to a chair.
"Please, sit down." I perch on a box. "You see, the thing is, well... Ruben's dead." I let my voice shake as I tell him. Sam leans back, running a hand across his face.
"My god. I'm so sorry." He reaches out his hand and I jump up.
"Don't fucking touch me." I growl. Sam regards me for a long second.
"I'm very sorry. Auri-" He cuts himself off, but it's too late.
"You're not Jamie Tarram, are you?" David's posture is relaxed, but his voice is cold. Sam is ticking beside me, ready to go. I shake my head, sitting down.
"No." I admit.
"Why did you lie?" Paul asks harshly.
"At first, it was because I didn't want to become a target. Then, I didn't want to face the judgement. I am a monster." I hang my head.
"Auri, you can't say that!" Sam explodes. "I don't know what they did to you, but I've seen enough. Stop blaming yourself." He is on his feet, shouting. I stand too.
"I killed them Sam! I fucking killed them." My voice breaks and tears run down my face.
"It's okay." He reassures me.
"No it's not." I take a deep breath.
"Who are you?" Dwayne looks betrayed and I can barely stomach it.
"Auri Tabella." I rasp.
"How did you end up here, Auri? From the very beginning, please." Marko's voice is gentle, like a friend. They really care. I go to my kit bag and pull out my photo album.
"Okay. Well, I was born on February 1st, 1961. My mother died in childbirth, and I was an only child. My father was... violent. He would get drunk, and I'd be the only one in the house to take his frustrations out on. It got so bad that CPS intervened. I wasn't a good kid, in terms of foster homes, and went from one to the other quicker than I should have. Then, I got scouted for Delta Force, G Squadron. I passed selection-" Sam cuts me off.
"You aced selection. You were amazing." He says severely.
"Not good enough to save them though." I mutter before continuing. "I got put into the recce troop, with Sam as the leader of my team. My first deployment was in Colombia, getting information on a guerrilla group. One of the Colombian secret police was dirty and we were ambushed. After what happened there, I was put into one of the assault troops as the leader of my team. Six months later, we were so tight knit that we could talk to each other in our heads. They were my family, and I loved them so much..." My voice cracks a bit as I open up the photo album. The first one is of us, just laughing together. "Those were the best seven years of my life. Then, on February 1st, exactly eight years after I joined, we were deployed out to Russia to rescue a CIA agent who was being held hostage. The thing was, they'd turned, and were luring us in. We were captured, and I knew that we wouldn't make it out. We sat in that cell together for days, listening to screams. They begged me... they begged me to kill them, so that they wouldn't have to go through that..." My voice trails off and I sob, remembering their faces. "There was Gabriel, Joshua, Peter, Ruben, Ben, Zach, Daniel, Luis, Steven, James, Roger and Thomas. Not a day goes by when I don't see them. The guitar... It was my birthday the day we deployed so they didn't get to give it to me. We all played something and we'd spend hours just making music... I held each of them in my arms, you know, as I killed them. Not once did they say stop... and now they're gone." Ferociously, I wiped tears from my eyes. "Then came the five months that... they don't bear talking about. I never gave them information though. I escaped because a guard didn't tie me up tight enough. I got back, and went through a lot of surgery and funerals. I was dismissed, due to the severity of my injuries and the nature of what... what happened. They said that I died too, because there was no one left that cared." Tears are flowing freely down my face. "I know that I am a monster. I know what I did is unforgivable. I know that there is no way on earth that if I die, I will go to the same place as them. I just wish that I had never met them, or died in some Colombian jail, and then they'd still be alive..."
"Auri, don't. If it wasn't for you, they'd have gone through what you did. You saved them, and in doing so condemned yourself. You did the right thing." Sam's face is wrought with sorrow. It was the first time that I'd heard someone say that.
"But... if they were still alive..." I protest. Sam frowns.
"Take off those gloves and look at your hands. Ask yourself how you would feel if those were the hands of your team." He instructs. I obey, sliding them off. There is an audible intake of breath, but it takes me a while to bring myself to look down. My hands are covered in burns, scars, scabs and lacerations. My nail beds have healed, but the skin is bubbled due to the burns. I check between the index and middle finger of my hand, pleased to find the small 'DSS' tattooed there. I think about my team, and how I'd feel if I knew that this had been done to them.
"You're right, I guess. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself but... what you said makes sense." I say. Marko opens his mouth, but seems to think better of it. "If you have questions, please ask. I may not tell you, but it's worth asking."
"What does 'DSS' stand for?" Marko asks.
"Dum Spiro Spero; while there's hope, I live." I answer, carefully fingering the tattoo.
"When did you get it?" David's gaze is fixed on my hands.
"They put me in a camp for a week. As long as they didn't kill me, the men there could do what they wished. There were some who wanted to hear my story, as they hated the communist regime, and it gave them hope, to dream of America. They gave me this tattoo, and another one."
"What happened in Colombia?" Paul directs his question towards Sam.
"We were held hostage, for ransom. The group was severely underfunded. Auri spun a lie that she was our... plaything, and would be willing to work for them instead. The rest of the team and I believed that she was trying to get out of being tortured. A few days later, she shows up, having killed all of the guards and sent out a distress signal. It was fucking awesome. We all knew the sacrifice that she had made for us, and what she did warrants a medal. If it had gone wrong at any point... she would have died a gruesome death." Sam shivers at the thought, as do I.
"I have a tattoo from that as well. Five pointed crown with a rose underneath. It meant that I was their property. The Russians thought it was funny so kept it." I spit.
"Are the dog tags the ones they were wearing, when they died?" Dwayne questions, voice filled with pain.
"Yeah. I did everything except from give up information to keep them." I answer.
"My god." Marko breathes.
"How did you escape?" Sam asks, face drawn. He already half knows how horrific the answer will be.
"As I said, my bonds weren't tight enough, and they had left some of their... equipment in the cell. I picked the lock and jumped out of a window." I wasn't willing to say any more, and they respected that.
"How do you know him?" David gestures at Sam.
"He was commander of the recce team." I answer.
"That's why you..." Dwayne trails off, glancing at Sam, who holds his hands up.
"I can see when I'm not wanted." He frowns, eyes flicking distrustfully between the boys. "If you're going to be okay, that is. I'll come back tomorrow, to sort out a physio routine; your body will just give up without the correct training." I roll my eyes.
"My body doesn't fucking work as it is." I mean it to sound harsh, but it comes out defeated.
"Auri, you're giving up. Remember who you are." Sam commands.
"Who am I, Sam? I'm not a Delta operator; I was dismissed. Am I what happened to me? Am I the sum of my tattoos and scars? Am I what I've done?" I yell, really pissed off.
"You're someone who would save a stranger's life." Marko says quietly. I laugh bitterly.
"Yeah, but when it came down to it, I couldn't save the people I cared about most." I shake my head.
"Auri." Sam growls in warning. White hot rage burns through me.
"That's what everyone's thinking though! I wasn't good enough. They were my responsibility and I failed! I just want to join them." I sit back in my seat, the pain at doing so making me hiss slightly.
"Fuck, Auri. No one is thinking that. You have a whole life ahead of you. Don't waste it, or throw it away. You can do anything you want." Sam locks his eyes on mine fiercely.
"Piss off." I tell him tiredly.
"Auri-" He tries.
"I said piss off." I interject. He looks around wildly, grasping at straws. I had never seen him lose his cool like this before.
"But... you could have a family..." He regrets his words as soon as they fall from his lips. I don't care that he is sorry; he has hit a nerve now. I stalk over to him, circling him like a shark.
"Do you want to know the truth, Sam? That the Colombians made it so I'd never have a child? I never told you that. The Russians thought that this made me the perfect... plaything. The thought of being touched, let alone being with anyone in that way... it makes me want to scream." I hiss, voice strangely devoid of emotion. "They broke me Sam. Physically, they ripped me apart. You will excuse me if a family is not high on my priority list. No, scratch that. I don't fucking have a priority list." Sam takes a deep breath.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. You keep sacrificing yourself, though, and I think that you need to find something to occupy you." He says. My expression is wooden as I stare him down.
"I'll see you tomorrow." I turn away, and he finally takes the message, departing into the night.
"I can't believe you said you were an accountant." David shakes his head.
"What would you have done?" I shoot back, too fast for it to be considered banter. There is silence as they contemplate my question.
"I would either still be in Russia, or Colombia. I couldn't- can't- do what you have." Marko admits. I give him an appraising look.
"Neither can I. Not really." I reply. David sucks on his teeth.
"If it had been the boys in there... holy fuck. Could I have killed them? Maybe, maybe not. Could I have gone through what you must have, escaped and still have the humanity to save a stranger? No."
"It's not my humanity. It's theirs." I tell him, fixing my gaze on the floor. My eyes feel heavy, and my energy seeps away. Silence creeps into the cave, and settles itself for a long stay.
6th August 1987
I awake from the first dreamless sleep I've had in months. The sea hisses outside, and the setting sun casts dwindling rays of light through the cave. My mind wanders, unbidden, to the reckoning I faced yesterday; I know I have to put things right with myself. In that moment, I make a decision. I will hunt down each one of my captors, and make them bleed.
Silently, I gather my belongings, and scribble a hasty note, planting it on the wheelchair. Then, I head out into the sunset.
David POV
I know what you must think, but I swear I am not running. I know what I have to do to find closure, and know that staying here would only have made it worse. I've never liked goodbyes, and you would probably have tried to talk me out of this anyway, so I couldn't tell you in person. Even so, I want you to read this. The four of you have something special. It is bond wrought from true love, and it shines so bright, even when everything is dark. Whatever you and others may believe, you are compassionate and loyal, even if it is to a choice few. I have been lucky enough to see this, and I can tell you with no doubt that all of you have retained some sort of humanity. For this, I commend you. I don't know if I'll ever see you again, but I hope that one day, you'll find a tough old bat, and one that recognizes you. Then, we'll have some catching up to do.
Yours, Auri.
My eyes scan the note over and over, as I curse vehemently. Our mate has gone, vanished into the embers of a dying sun, leaving us with nothing but a note. A tear slips from the corner of my eye, sizzling down my skin. Paul's footsteps sound behind me, and I turn, meeting his confused expression with my distraught one. Wordlessly, I hand him the piece of paper, and his brows knit together as he reads it again and again. Finally, he looks up, tears lining his eyes in silver.
"She's gone." His voice is hollow, and he moves closer as he struggles to stay upright. I nod, unable to speak. Suddenly, he stumbles, almost falling. I put out an arm to catch him, which he clings to like a lifeline. Dwayne and Marko help him to the sofa; in my grief, I hadn't noticed them enter. Both send questioning looks my way, and I pass them the paper, going to sit by Paul.
Marko whimpers, his hand going to his mouth as he realizes what the words mean. Even Dwayne, who is renowned for his lack of emotion, has tears sliding down his face.
"She's so brave." Marko rasps. "But did she have to go?" His voice breaks at the end.
"Yes. She did." I reply. "It's better this way. For her, I mean. Hopefully, she will heal." My heart shatters at the thought of not seeing her for years, but no anger comes. I am right: it has to be like this for her sake.
1st February 2020
Auri POV
It's been almost 33 years since my feet touched Santa Carla's rough streets. They have not lost their edge, although the law seems to be squeezing tighter around them. Somehow, it has kept its following of the alternative; goths and punks and surf nazis still have the upper hand. Despite this, gangs of youths in tracksuits loiter menacingly on the sidewalk, cussing and smoking. Though many years have gone by, missing posters still litter the streets, some as recent as the previous week. I am in the right place.
A newspaper stall catches my eye, and I process the date. Today is my 61st birthday. How ironic. I stagger slightly, reminded of my weakness and intense need. It makes me shiver whenever it crosses my mind. The sun is setting, and I keep my ears open for the roar of bikes. There is only one I want to see tonight. Though it has been so long, my Delta training still has a firm grip of me, as I scan the boardwalk again and again, watching intently for them. I hate what I'm going to have to ask, have to do, but it is necessary. It's painfully obvious that it's so very essential, especially as my knees shake violently. In the distance, the screaming of four engines draw closer, reaching a crescendo and stopping abruptly. They're here.
The riders whoop, but somehow the sound is flat. Their elation is genuine, yet something vital is missing. How much did I hurt them? I don't have the time to think like that, but it settles me firmly in my decision to be honest. No more lies or disguises.
I hear the heavy thud of combat boots, recognizing the gait instantly. It is David, and behind him trail two other pairs, stumbling as they shove each other around. The fourth pair are almost silent, and I fixate my ears almost fully onto my target. He veers off course, and a jacket clinks as someone waves goodbye. He won't be returning to the other three anytime soon, so I follow.
He strolls casually off the boardwalk, heading for a cluster of rocks that trail into the sea. In the low moonlight, they almost look like fangs, and the hiss of the sea is their snakelike owner. Glossy raven hair melts over one shoulder as he settles himself on a craggy boulder, propping his head on his fisted hands. His thousand-mile stare rests on the horizon, a sigh escaping into the balmy air. His lips move noiselessly, forming the same sentence over and over. Come back to me, my love.
My burning heart clenches in my chest, and a silent tear trails down my face. I stay hidden in the shadows, but I want to run to him. Will he even recognize me? I wear a new skin, and a new heart beats in my chest. Even my soul is not fully my own, bound to the devil in a way so irrevocable God himself couldn't interfere. In a way, I am a monster, but no more than them, not really. Whilst my crimes have a different nature, it still comes down to survival.
Hesitantly, I step forward, noiseless on my feet. Can he love something like me? I take another step, still undetected. The wind is gusting the wrong way for him to scent me, but, he is probably too lost to notice anyway. The sand gets a bit rougher, and one step makes a crunch. I freeze, eyes locked on his form, waiting for a reaction. He tenses, head slowly turning. A strangled whimper escapes both of us as our eyes meet. With the least grace I have seen an immortal use, he hurries off the rock, sprinting towards me. He gathers me up into his arms, pressing my head into his chest. My heart burns for him, and I feel a sob tear itself from my chest.
"I've been praying that you would come back for thirty years," Dwayne's voice is choked with emotion. "But I never thought it would happen." He buries his nose into my hair, inhaling. My scent is clear to him now; he stiffens, holding me at arm's length. "What are you?" He rasps. I sigh, holding his icy hand in my own burning one.
"Succubus." The answer hangs in the air between us. His full lips struggle to form words, opening and closing rapidly.
"Why are you... back? Not that it's not the most amazing thing in years, but..." His dark eyes fill with silvery tears. "I thought we'd never see you again." A broken crack tears through the sentence.
"I need... well..." The words stick in my throat like treacle. My legs almost give out again, and he shoots me a concerned look. The waves hiss against the shingle as we stand on the beach. Inherently, I want to run my hands over him, but he deserves a choice. "I need to have... sex." He tenses visibly at this, and I curl in on myself, shoulders hunching.
"Why?" There are a wealth of questions in that one broken word. Why him? What will happen? Will it be deadly? Could I survive without it?
"I was turned years ago, but I never did... it, because, well, I guess I was scared. A succubus gets to a point where they're almost mortal due to not engaging in..., but it can't be held for too long, or it's fatal. I'm pretty close to that point now; most of my power is gone. I don't really want to die though, so I need someone I can trust that won't hurt me." Despite it all, Dwayne rubs comforting circles on my back.
"I'll do that for you, but afterwards, we need a proper conversation, with everyone. Okay?" His face is serious, and I nod solemnly.
"I understand." I affirm, snaking up a hand to run through his hair. He sighs as the silky waves fall over my hand. It feels so natural to do this, and I can't find an ounce of fear.
He runs a calloused finger across my lips, making tingles erupt in my body. Gently, I draw it into my mouth, sucking lightly. His eyes go black. Gently, he puts a hand under my shirt, fondling my breast. I lean into it, grinding my body against his. Our lips meet, and then our tongues. His has a stud in it now.
"Oh god, I've missed you so much." He mumbles into my lips.
"Me too." I slide a hand to his pants, fiddling with the button. It springs free, and I vaguely feel him relieving me of my own pair of pants. His hand strokes a line down me, and I nearly scream at how euphoric it feels. A whimper forces through my lips. Instantly, Dwayne stops, dark eyes full of concern.
"Keep going." I plead breathily, almost disgusted at how needy I have become. The hunger in my eyes must be clear, as he kisses me again, fingers dancing over my folds. One hand pulls my shirt over my head, and then slides my pants and underwear down my legs. I am completely naked before him, hands coming up to push his jacket off his shoulders. He aids me in my quest, pulling off his pants so he too is naked. He looks like a god. Already, I am drenched, and Dwayne hums appreciatively into my lips. I wrap my hand around his naked cock, stroking it and lining it up with my entrance. His eyes meet mine intensely.
"Are you sure?" He whispers, pulling away slightly.
"Yes." I moan, and it's all the permission he needs, as he slowly eases himself into me.
"Oh god, Auri..." He exhales heavily through his nose. I cling to his shoulders, panting. He starts to thrust gently, but soon I am bucking my hips up to meet his every push. I scream as he picks up the pace, my body shaking in pleasure.
"Dwayne..." I pant as my orgasm nears, his name becoming a mantra. His hips start to shake as his own load is released, and I clench around him at the feeling. My skin feels like fire, and I can barely open my eyes as surges of power roll through me.
Dwayne POV
Auri is fire beneath me, her skin wreathed in beads of sweat. Her head lolls back and her onyx hair is spread around her like a dark halo. Like birds, her eyelids flutter, revealing occasional flashes of a sucking black color.
"Hey, are you okay?" I shake her shoulder gently, and her eyes snap open, flicking around. Slowly, their obsidian color fades to royal blue again. Her pale skin is flushed, and her lips are red and swollen. She smiles, revealing a double row of razor-sharp fangs. They shrink back into her gums, replaced by more normal-looking teeth, but they're still pointed slightly.
"Thank you." She rasps, pulling off me and sitting up. Hellfire crackles at her fingertips, and she watches in wonder. Then, she reaches a hand up to her head. Large twisting horns appear, and a dark tail wraps around her leg. Her nails become curving, black claws; there is a ripping sound as leathery membranous wings sprout from her back. Her eyes dart across herself, tears gathering in her eyes. She lets out a little noise of broken surprise, and my heart clenches. I remember the realization of my own monstrosity as clear as day, and the accompanying guilt.
"You're so beautiful." I breathe, reaching for her hand. Her eyes meet mine, and I am almost shocked by the power of her beauty. Now my head is clear, her transformation hits me like a ton of bricks. Where her body had been scarred and battle handed, it's now curvy and supple. All her scars and callouses have disappeared, as well as the majority of her muscle mass. She notices my roving gaze and smirks tiredly.
"I hated this body at first; I had lost who I was, y'know?" I hadn't thought of it that way, but now it makes sense. She had her whole identity stripped away from her. "People think they can get away with more..." The simple sentence makes my breath catch. As a man, I don't usually get unwanted advances, but I can only imagine the amount of undesired attention Auri receives. Especially when she looks like a supermodel. "But then I realized that I'm no longer owned by my scars, or tattoos. I'm stronger than I've ever been, my senses are phenomenal... My body won't stop working when I get old... And I can fly, I mean, it's almost a blessing." She smiles, the horns, claws, wings and tail disappearing. She looks around her again. "I still feel like a monster." She whispers.
"Yeah, you're a monster. You're a demon, and I'm a vampire. We're both monsters. Humans are scared of us. We're the reason that people are afraid of the dark. But, we're not fundamentally bad. You and I eat people because we need to. It's like humans eating animals. And, sure, we might enjoy picking off the real bastards out there, but does that make us terrible? We're going to hell anyway." I wrap my arm around her, and she rests her head on my shoulder.
"I still feel like a monster, but now, I guess I'm kinda proud." She chuckles quietly.
"Yeah. Us monsters gotta stick together." There is a beat of silence as we sit there, looking out on the waves. Euphoria courses through me, to have my beautiful mate here with me at last. I know that my brothers deserve to see her too. "Are you ready to go back to the cave?" She looks up at me with her beautiful eyes and nods.
"I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Together, we stand, her legs shaking slightly. I pull on my pants and jacket before helping her with her own. We walk slowly along the beach, back towards my bike.
Hey, can you come back to the cave? I call down our mind-link. There are a couple of affirmations, questioning but not really. Anything to break the mundane routine that we had all fallen into. I come back to the present, Auri looking up at me with such intense love in her eyes that it knocks me sideways for a moment.
"I never thought that sex could feel so... beautiful." My heart clenches for her, for everything that she's been through. I raise an eyebrow.
"You haven't felt the half of it." Her pupils dilate, and she watches my lips, tongue darting out to caress her own. I lean in, and our mouths meld together, fire burning deep inside me. Her tongue licks at the seam of my lips. I pull away, gazing down at her. She doesn't look rejected, or worried. Maybe she has seen the burning love I have for her in my own eyes. "We need to go. As much I would love to make soft, gentle love to you all night under the stars, there are three men who need you." She gives me a small, apprehensive smile.
"You are right. We will have our night under the stars, another time." She promises. I take her hand in mine.
"There's no one about. Do you want to fly?" She nods once, hand not leaving mine as wings sprout from her back, the initial ripping sound now accompanied by the tearing of fabric. I reach out, running a finger along one particularly prominent vein on the surface. She shudders.
"That's... really sensitive." I give her a dark smirk, storing the information.
"Ready?" She nods and we launch into the air together. Her flight is practiced and smooth. Her face sports a breath-taking grin. We never thought we'd see her again, let alone happy. It seems that she has found healing. We swoop across the cliffs, high enough not to be noticed in the dark. Finally, we alight on the stairs leading to the cave. She gives our still-joined hands a squeeze. Three bikes are parked on the cliffs. At least we won't have to wait for them to arrive. Auri takes a deep breath, drops my hand and strides down the stairs.
Auri POV
The first thing that I hear is a cry of disbelief. Then, a body comes barreling towards me, stopping as the owner no doubt remembers my fears about touching. I close the gap between us, burying my face into Paul's shoulder.
"Auri, Auri, Auri..." My name becomes a mantra on his lips and he clings to me like he's afraid that if he loosens his grip, I'll turn to smoke. Finally, he pulls back a bit, pinching his arm. When I don't disappear, he does it again.
"Holy fuck." Marko breathes. He has just emerged from their sleeping space, eyes wide. The book in his hand falls to the ground. His approach is tentative, and he stops a couple of feet away from me. "You're not real." He states, before looking at Paul. "You can see her too?" Paul nods, and their gazes dart to Dwayne, who gives them a sad smile.
"She's real." He states. Marko throws his hands up in the air.
"Oh my god. We've finally cracked. All of us." He lets out a shaky, nervous laugh. Paul pinches himself yet again.
"I am real."
"Yeah, well the you in my imagination would say that." Marko fired back.
"Can you prove that you're real?" Paul pleads.
"I am Auri Tabella. Almost thirty three years ago, I left you. Thirty years ago, I got turned into a succubus-" Marko holds up his hand, effectively silencing me.
"The Auri I knew couldn't bear to be touched. You are a pale imitation." His words cut me right to the bone.
"No, Marko! I am healing. I still scream when I fucking sleep, but I got my revenge, and I haven't been willingly touched for thirty three years, until today." I can't help my eyes flashing to black. Marko takes a step towards me, belief dawning on his face.
"That's more like it." He reaches for my hand, eyes sending me a question. I nod. He holds it almost reverently, rubbing it to affirm its corporeality. His eyes become glassy with unshed tears, so I gather him into my arms. He, like Dwayne, buries his face in my hair. He pulls back, a crazed grin on his face. "I love you so much."
"And I you." With three simple words, he melts, lips working against mine. No doubt, he can taste Dwayne, but he's oddly unperturbed. He pulls back, smiling. My gaze catches on Paul, who's watching open mouthed. I unhook myself from Marko's arms and make my way to him. "I'm real." I reaffirm. "And I love you so deeply that words don't work." Paul's mouth opens slightly.
"Ditto." He brings our lips together as I thread my arms around the back of his neck. I pull back a couple of millimetres, so our lips are still touching.
"I'm pretty sure Shakespeare used 'ditto' for his response to heartfelt proclamations of love." I tease, each word rubbing my lips against his. Paul huffs and kisses me again before releasing me to the last man in the cave. David sits frozen in his wheelchair, but as soon as my eyes meet his, he jumps up. He strides to stand in front of me, close enough that he could lean in and...
"Am I meant to forgive you?" He growls. "Because you come here fluttering your lashes and give Dwayne the best sex he's ever had." He sneers. "You're pathetic. Only coming back when it suited you. How are we to know that you won't rip our hearts out again?"
"I know I hurt you. I understand if you never forgive me. I know that I am your mate. You said you couldn't be sure if I'd stay, but you are something special to me too. You are known as 'semper amare'. Forever love." I sat on the floor and turned my feet so they could see the soles. In each arch, there are two of their names, accompanied by the jagged lines of a heartbeat. "They appeared as soon as I was turned. My last four heartbeats dedicated to you."
"But you stayed away." He growls. I run a hand through my hair, bowing my head.
"Three years weren't enough to find them all. I got turned, and then spent ten years in hell. It's..." I shudder. "Then I tracked down my torturers. That took me years and years too. In fact, I killed the last a couple of weeks ago before coming to find you. I am sorry I hurt you. I hate that it took so long, but I didn't want to come back and burden you before I had healed enough to let you in. Now, I think I am, if you will let me." David's stony expression cracks as he kneels before me, wrapping me in his arms.
"You could never be a burden." He brushes his lips against mine. "And now, we have an eternity together." I feel as Marko kneels to my right, Paul to my left and Dwayne behind me.
"I bet we can get into some interesting positions with those wings too." Dwayne purrs in my ear.
"Apparently we've got an eternity to find out." I shoot back, smiling.