Dreams
Chapter 3
A dream is a wish your heart makes
When you're fast asleep
In dreams you lose your heartaches
Whatever you wish for, you keep
-Cinderella
After her day at work, Kerry was exhausted. She was tired of asking questions, especially those she didn't want the answers to, and she was even more tired of the fabricated expression of normalcy plastered on her face. She just wanted to metaphorically let her hair down for a while and get through a few hours in a state of apprehension. She had a right to be worried, dammit, especially if there was some rogue vampire running around the limited streets of Brockport. If the body count began to rise, unwanted attention would suddenly be focused on the town.
What was worse, she thought, was the randomness of the victims. She had family and loved ones living in Brockport, and no one was safe.
Kerry parked her car in her spot in the parking lot, looking up at the twilight sky. She had raced the looming sunset home, unwilling to be outside after dark. Get a grip, she mentally criticized. There's fear and then there's melodrama, and she was definitely on the verge of hysteria. Maybe pretending everything was all right was actually the better option, because at least then she wasn't thinking about it.
Kerry climbed out of her car, grabbing her purse from the seat next to her and swinging it over her shoulder she made her way into the building. It was her night to cook supper she realized, climbing the stairs to her third floor flat.
"I'm home!" she called out after opening the front door and finding the light in the living room on. She dropped her purse on the hallway table, ignoring the new mail which had been stacked on top of the old mail. "I'm cooking supper," she broadcasted, stepping towards the kitchen. "Any requests?"
A noncommittal grunt came from the bedroom. Kerry grinned, grabbing a casserole dish out of the bottom cupboards and covering the bottom with rice, tossing other ingredients on top in a haphazard manner. She heard him approaching as she straightened from putting supper in the oven, though he tried to soften his footsteps to gain the element of surprise.
"Oh, tuna casserole." He grabbed her from behind, arms tightening around her waist in a hug as he buried his face against the crook of her neck. "You smell like," he started before getting a good whiff of her skin. It was a game between them for him to guess which of the similar-scented perfumes she was wearing. Sometimes, she would deliberately stop by the local pharmacy and spray on a sample of a perfume he hadn't encountered before. Today, she hadn't. "Euuh," he muttered, stretching out the sound of distaste.
Kerry snorted. "I stopped by the morgue today," she told him, turning in his embrace and slipping her arms around his neck. She could feel the heavy muscles in his shoulders bunch as he grabbed her and placed her on the counter. Kerry's mouth opened slightly as Luke kissed her, sighing against him. Finally, she felt safe for the first time since that afternoon.
"How was Dr. Roberts?" Luke asked, opening the cupboard above her head for a glass and moving away from her in order to pour a cup of water. He lounged against the fridge drinking, carrying on their conversation. He was freshly shaved, some time in the last hour, she guessed as she noticed his usual scruff wasn't present on his chin. It wasn't unusually for him to get rid of the five o'clock shadow, especially since the chief of the precinct, and his superior officer, also happened to be his father. Luke was part needy puppy, looking for affection and confirmation of his own manhood.
Sometimes, Kerry thought, it sucked to be him. At least she could separate the disappointment or disapproval from her boss from her father's very special form of guilt-trips.
"He was fine. A little stymied, but I guess a good puzzle is good for an M.E.. Keeps them on their toes," Kerry said breezily, not letting on to what she was thinking. There was an energy around him that she couldn't place, and she could tell he was bothered about something. The reporter in her made her want to pick at it, but the girlfriend who tried not to bring her work into the metaphorical bedroom realized that it was up to him to broach the subject, and if her instincts were right about anything, it was that he was attempting to do just that through smalltalk.
"What story were you working on?" he asked, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter and taking a loud, juicy bite.
"Supper's in fifteen minutes," Kerry huffed.
"I'm hungry now," he reasoned with his mouth full. "Was it the Ethan Bryne story? I thought you were finished with that."
Kerry didn't think she'd ever be finished with it, at least personally. Professionally it had already been laid to rest unless some mind-blowing event happened to catapult it back into the public eye. One of her current worries was how very possible that was right now, and the only one who could really do it was her. "It wasn't that," she told him. "I was just visiting the old man. Last time I saw him he reminded me that I haven't been stopping by lately."
"I don't know why you do," Luke said. "He's kind of creepy."
Kerry frowned, hopping down off the counter. "If it wasn't for him and your father, there's a good chance I would have been arrested eight years ago. It kind of makes a gal see the good in people when they help her avoid a murder charge."
"Oh, come on! The case wouldn't have gotten anywhere. Self defence cases rarely do. And that Marsala guy was psycho. Vampires!" Luke snorted.
"Yeah," Kerry said with her emotions concealed. "Psycho."
"I'm sorry I brought it up, babe. I just know how much it upsets you to see dead bodies after what happened. I'm just looking out for you."
"I know," Kerry said with a smile, but the truth was that dead bodies didn't make her uncomfortable. What made her uncomfortable was the idea that he thought that they should, as though anyone who had accidentally killed a man should feel guilty and uneasy around death. She must have missed that ethics class. She crossed over to him and gave him a quick kiss, grabbing the oven mitts from the top of the fridge behind them. She placed her hands into them, opening the door and peering into the stove. She knew that the casserole had a good ten minutes left to finish cooking, but she felt the need to do something useful.
Kerry took off the oven mitts, placing them on the top of the stove in a way which would be a fire hazard if she was using the burners. Standing on tip toe, she grabbed two cheap china plates from the cabinet above the sink and headed towards the dining table placed between the kitchen and the living room. It was large enough to uncomfortably fit four, and she had picked it up the year before at a garage sale.
"We're eating at the table?" Luke asked, trailing after her. Kerry stopped a foot from the table and he bumped into her back.
"Why is there folded laundry on it?" she asked, staring at the piles of folded shirts and socks.
"I was sorting," he said sheepishly. "I can clean it off if you want."
Kerry stared at the mess, and then looked at the plates in her hand. "No," she said. "It's ok. We'll just eat standing above the counter or on the couch like usual. I'll get some bowls instead."
"I'm sorry," Luke told her, giving her an embarrassed smile, already placing his neat stacks of bounty-fresh clothing in the laundry hamper. "I thought I'd have it done before you came home. I don't like sorting my clean laundry on the bed, especially when the sheets haven't been washed. It's like washing the floor and then drying it with a dirty rag."
Kerry wasn't sure why someone would dry the floor instead of letting it air dry, but that might be why hers always came out streaky. It didn't matter anymore because he was now finished cleaning off the table and was in the process of lugging the load back into the bedroom. She placed the plates in the middle of the table, grabbing two placemats to put in front of the positions. Relationships were about compromise, she knew, but she thought that even though she tried to give into his whims sometimes, someone had already trained him to see through that. It was probably his mother. It was amazing to find a boyfriend who read between the lines to the core of what she really wanted.
"It's been a while since we sat down across from each other for a meal," she called to Luke as she set the table. He answered something from the bedroom, but she was unable to hear him. By the time she finished setting the table for two and started making a salad from greenery in the fridge, he had emerged from the bedroom sans laundry.
"Is that stuff still good?" He asked, referring to the bag of ready-made salad she was currently picking the sludgy off-colored pieces out of.
"Sure it is," Kerry responded. "Only when you take a bite it doesn't crunch, you should probably spit it out."
Luke sighed. "I don't know what I'd do without you to create culinary miracles."
Kerry opened the fridge and looked at the cheese, wondering if she should put some in the salad to make Luke more likely to eat it, or if it would end up just being a waste of perfectly good cheese.
"Put some on top of the casserole too," Luke asked, grabbing Kerry on both sides of her waist and making her squeal. She hit him with the salad tongs as he laughed at her, swinging around to grab a bottle of sparkling water out of the fridge and pour it into wine glasses. Neither of them were into casual drinking, though Kerry was sure there was still some wine left over from her last birthday party. It was just one of the things they had in common.
Kerry watched Luke rearrange the utensils on the table, switching the fork to the left side. Kerry had a habit of setting the table beautifully, but accidentally placing everything in a mirror image of where it was supposed to go. His back was to her, and as she shredded cheese for both the salad and the casserole, she watched his broad shoulders and narrow hips as he moved. His masculinity always made her smile.
"See something you like?" he asked with a grin.
"You've got a great ass," she told him, swinging around to take the casserole out of the oven. She opened the dish, blinking as the steam rushed out over her face. Soon, supper was ready to be served and she presented the dish to Luke at the table, feeling a warm rush from the accomplishment of playing housewife successfully for one of the few times she bothered. She didn't stop to wonder whether she was doing this out of guilt because she had spoken to Michel, or because since he was a cop, she was about to circumnavigate his investigation.
The casserole hit her plate with a wet plop, and Kerry sat down to enjoy her meal, taking a sip of her drink. "How was your day at work?"
"It was fine. That'll change after tonight, but we'll get through it. By the end of the week you won't even notice the change."
"Why?" Kerry asked, scrunching her brow in confusion. "What's going on this week?"
Luke dropped his fork to his plate, surveying her carefully. "I thought you knew. I thought that's what supper was all about."
"Know what? Luke, come on. You know I can't just not get answers. I'll keep bugging you until we're both thoroughly annoyed and frustrated."
"I've been transferred to the night shift."
"Night shift," Kerry echoed dully, her ears roaring with the blood rushing to her head and the feeling of dread settled into her stomach as she stared at him in horror. Her boyfriend was going to be out there with the blood crazy vampire wandering the streets of Brockport. "No! You can't!" she thought out loud.
"I have to. I have no choice in the matter. In a month or so the job will rotate to someone else." He smiled gently at her, misinterpreting her worries. "It's not that big of a deal. We'll still see each other at the same times, only I'll be waking up when you go to bed and vice versa."
"But you won't be sleeping with me," she said in a quiet voice, playing along with his reasoning. That hadn't been what she was thinking at all. Kerry had been thinking that vampirism was going to take another man she loved. That one of these mornings she would wake up to the police chief knocking on the door to tell her that his son was dead. It was much easier for the vampire to gain access to those people who were still awake and out and about than it was those who were soundly sleeping in their beds, she thought. He was a goner.
Kerry got up from her seat and slipped onto Luke's lap, resting her head against his warm chest. His heart was strong and steady, and she hoped it kept that way. "When do you start?" she asked, tilting her head up for a kiss.
"In a few hours," he responded, pulling her closer against him.
As she idly drew circles against his broad chest, Kerry realized that it would be up to her to keep him safe. If she didn't hear back from Michel by sunrise tomorrow, she'd have to step in and keep Brockport protected like a modern, every-day superhero.
x.x.x.x.
Kerry sat in her car, hands tensed around the wheel at the three o'clock and nine o'clock positions. In front of her was Ethan Bryne's old house, the structure the same as it had ever been and the expansive lawn cleanly groomed. The trim was painted a new color and she thought the royal blue and white combination made it look like a china set, almost delicate in appearance. She had driven by twice since Ethan's body had been found – and, ok, she had stopped once and stared at the house until each turret was seared into her brain – but those visits had been out of nostalgia and grief, with no intention of knocking on the door. This time, however, she planned to visit if she could get the over the shaking knees and cold sweat of nerves first.
This is foolish, Kerry thought. Surely someone new was now living in his house: someone who wasn't a vampire, someone who would laugh her off the porch if she even suggested as much. What was even stupider was the fact she was planning to knock in the daytime, when vampires would be asleep. It wasn't even a very good test, because even if no one answered the door, it didn't mean humans didn't live there. They could be at work, or just not answering the door.
But there was no way Kerry was trying this after dark. She may be inquisitive, but she wasn't stupid. There was a rogue vampire going around and ripping into humans like a dieting housewife faced with a box of chocolate, and she wasn't going to take the chance of getting in its face. She could practically see a situation where she knocked on the door, only to come face to face with a blank-eyed zombie-vamp, its latest victim's blood coating its mouth as it didn't pause before lunging for her throat. With her luck, it would leave her half dead on the doorstep, struggling for breath. A nice little parting gift for Michel to clean up.
If it was still his house.
And if he cared enough to take care of it himself. Likely enough, he didn't.
Kerry inhaled sharply and exhaled, loosening her grasp on the steering wheel and banging the palms of her hands on it in a quick beat. Finally as confident as she'd ever be, Kerry swung the door to her car open and stood up in the driveway, shielding her eyes from the sun.
"Hello?" a voice asked from behind her.
Kerry turned sharply on her heel, noticing the woman standing behind her with a shopping bag in her arms. A car was parked in front of the house, the trunk open. "Oh," Kerry managed weakly, managing to be polite despite her surprise. "I'm sorry. I'm parked in your space. I'll move."
"Don't bother," the woman said with a friendly laugh. "I have a feeling that if you get back behind the wheel you won't find the courage to get out again. You'll just back out and keep going, and now I'm curious. Grab a bag of groceries and you have an invitation for something to drink."
Kerry blushed, hoping the bright light hid instead of highlighted the redness of her face. "Sure," she said, moving forward to grab the handles of the remaining canvas bags. It hadn't been that long since she had worked as a cashier in the grocery stores, but enough time had passed to see the growing trend of environment-healthy bags almost become a norm. She closed the trunk and followed the lady into the house, through the front hall and into the back kitchen. Kerry managed not to openly peruse the house, though her impression was that nothing had really changed. The wallpaper was still ancient with real gold inlay, the waxed banister on the staircase still gleamed, sweeping majestically down into the hallway, and Michel's piano was still set up in the same place it had always been.
"You've been here before," the woman noted, shoving a box of Pepsi cans into the fridge. "Most people take a pause when they first enter the house and gape or react in some way."
"I'm a... I mean, I was a friend of Ethan Bryne's." Kerry watched her companion as she said this, keeping her hands busy by removing the contents of one of the shopping bags.
"Ah," the lady said softly, opening the fridge and pulling out two chilled cans of pop from the previous box. "Leave the groceries. I think we should go into the living room for this talk."
Kerry did as she was asked, following the woman through the dining room and into the sitting room she had spent so many hours sitting in absolute boredom eight years before, stealing glances at the mysterious and dangerous vampire who caused her heart to race in a way which worried her. She was vaguely surprised to see the bookcases had relatively the same set up now as they had then. She could see the Bach bust used to hold up a leather bound set of Dickens and Austen books and the bottom shelf of new mystery paperbacks still had unbroken spines, though the titles of the books themselves had been updated.
"I was wondering if this was going to happen," the woman said, sitting in Michel's favourite seat. Kerry awkwardly perched herself on the settee, feeling as though one wrong move would cause the whole thing to collapse. "Ever since the time they found that poor boy's body, I was wondering if someone would show up here. Are you a reporter?"
Kerry nodded. "I'm Kerry Nowicki."
"I'm Lucy, and yes, the house still belongs to Ethan's uncle. My husband and I rent it." She popped the tab on her Pepsi, becoming more comfortable with just the fizzing sound. "I'm a caffeine junkie," she said by way of explanation. "What sort of questions do you have? I'll do my best to answer, but I never met a young man named Ethan Bryne."
There was something in the way she said the words that gave Kerry a pause, as if Lucy knew that Ethan was not the real name of the person they were talking about. "I don't really have any questions," Kerry said honestly. "I'm not really sure why I'm here. I just wanted to..." Kerry broke off, finally deciding on an impulse instead of careful lies. "That's not true. I know exactly why I'm here." She leaned forward earnestly. "I'm also a friend of Michael's."
"I know," Lusy said with a secretive smile. "He mentioned I should expect you, though I thought it would take another day or so before you showed up."
"He mentioned me?" Kerry echoed in shock.
"Yes. When he asked Dave's – my husband's – help with situation he thought we should be appraised of. He said he'd give you a day to show up on your own before calling you in to help."
"Help? I don't know how much help I can be," Kerry hedged modestly. "I mean, I know about the "situation" and there isn't much that I can do."
"My husband needs someone to take care of investigating during the day," Lucy said frankly. "We have a child, so he doesn't want to risk my life."
Kerry felt as though Lucy were looking for a reaction to the fact that "Michael" was willing to put her life on the line, but Kerry didn't feel anything besides knowledge that it made sense. She was already aware of the danger, and when Michel hadn't called her back the night before, she had resigned herself to the idea that she would have to deal with it herself. She didn't have the resources or the contacts to know who else in Brockport could help her, and without Michel the only option she had been left with was hoping he hadn't sold the house. As far as Michel assuming she had the proper faculties to actually help the vampires was both an honour and nothing less than the truth.
It just amazed her a little that he saw it, especially since he hadn't seen her in four years.
"That's fine," Kerry finally responded with the realization that she had been focusing too intently on her own issues and that Lucy might be looking so expectantly for an answer not because of Michel but because she had just outted her husband as a vampire. God, Kerry thought, for someone who prided herself on being intelligent, she was slow sometimes. "Michael is probably right. I know this town pretty well, and as a reporter I have connections to both the police department and the morgue that can help." She didn't mention that her connection to the police was in the form of her boyfriend. It felt like two subjects which were almost sacrilege to link together: Michel never went well with cops.
As if reading her mind, Lucy continued, "Dave and I had a debate about who you are, especially after finding out that you're still alive and Ethan Bryne is not and Michael is willing to place some trust in you."
"About who I am?" Kerry wondered. "You mean who I am to him? I'm no one. It may seem like there should be something there when you look at the facts like that, but in truth I was sixteen at the time and Ethan doesn't – didn't – mess with children."
"It's more than that. Dave thinks that you're one of his playthings."
Kerry laughed, but it lacked true mirth. "Do you see Michael trusting one of his girlfriends? Calling her in to help with something that isn't alleviating his cock?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back. It was far too vulgar of a thing to say to a woman she had just met and whose house she was currently visiting.
Lucy smiled. "So you do know him. That's why I think you're something more. You must be the love of his life."
Kerry could merely shake her head. "He doesn't feel emotions like love. He's incapable of it." Part of her, though, couldn't help but wonder. "I don't know if it's because he's a vampire or just who he is, but I don't think he's ever felt anything stronger than lust or admiration towards a woman before."
"Before," the woman said meaningfully, a secretive smile across her lips. "Vampires are very much capable of love. I don't know why you would think otherwise, though it probably has something to do with the fact Michael is the one you're getting your information from. Can you imagine what it must be like for them? They have these intense, heightened senses and when they feel emotions it's... well, obviously I don't know how it is, but it's probably passionate and powerful and eternal."
Kerry managed to hide her snort of mirth, realizing that Lucy was not talking about Michael anymore, but her husband Dave. Without seeing the two of them together, she couldn't judge whether this love was true or not, but she could tell by the animated shine to Lucy's face that she believed it was. Kerry didn't think emotions like that deserved to be mocked and ridiculed. She believed in true love once, after all, and Luke was starting to rekindle her hopes of finding it again. "I'm sure you and your husband have a wonderful relationship," Kerry answered diplomatically, "but you are right about the fact that the only basis I have is what Michael has told me, and if you know him at all, you know how he enjoys lying and toying with emotions."
"Ouch," Lucy said with a frown. "That's a harsh thing to say about him." She observed Kerry for a moment and then continued slowly. "But I guess that would be why he assured Dave you were good at seeing through things to the truth."
Kerry wasn't going to show surprise again, not knowing what to make of all this praise Michel was apparently giving her. She had a feeling he might not had said these things as positively as Lucy was making them sound. Certainly, when she and Michel had been 'together' her bullshit detector amused him just as much as it annoyed him, depending on the situation and whether he wanted her to believe him or not, and there had been instances where she thought he liked it a little too much, but he had never given any indication that he... Kerry wasn't sure how to finish that. That he what? He had told her that he enjoyed it when she crossed her arms over her chest and stubbornly accused him of lying to her, and sometimes he did it on purpose to see the little line between her eyebrows. She had just never really believed him when he told her it was one of her best charms.
Ironic, really.
Kerry steadily observed Lucy through the thoughts firing in her brain, her face giving away nothing. "I am," she affirmed. "I really am a reporter, and I'm good at my job."
Lucy's expression cleared and she took on the look of someone who just realized something important. "I don't know how I didn't notice this before!" she exclaimed. "It's not that he loves you – well, he might love you – but it's that he respects you. You're –" she was cut off by the hallway clock chiming three, and she jumped, looking at her watch to validate. "Oh my goodness, I should have left to pick up Chad from school five minutes ago. I know it's rude, but I'm going to have to kick you out now."
Kerry smiled to show there were no hard feelings as she got up from the chair, but really the smile was genuine. She never thought that there was anything in this house scarier than a rogue vampire, but there was. She didn't want all the old feelings and issues with Michel to come back to the surface after she had spent so much time anchoring them down with cement blocks. Pulling Ethan Bryne's car out of the river had dredged up far more than rusting metal, silt and bones.
Kerry emerged from the bathroom with her wet hair trailing down the back of her soft, pink terry robe, the cotton absorbing the excess water and enveloping her in the warmth left from her steamy shower. She felt relaxed, the thoughts in her brain no longer firing at a frenzy she couldn't keep up with. The scent of her body wash clung to her rosy skin, and she thought that if all showers could be as rejuvenating as this one had been, no one would need to spend money on skin tucks or massages.
Candles? Kerry wondered, considering the idea of continuing her evening off with soft classical music, a glass of wine, and maybe a bar of the secret Swiss chocolate horde she kept taped to the back of a dresser drawer. She shook her wet hair out with her fingers, giving it lift and waves that couldn't be replicated by a quick brush and product routine in the morning, as she rummaged through the fridge for the leftover wine from her birthday the month before. The only bit of alcohol to be found in the fridge was a small sample sized bottle of vodka like the ones served on planes or understocked and overpriced in hotel bedrooms.
With a mental shrug, she dumped the contents into a glass and poured orange juice on top, the smell bringing her back to her college years. With a smile, she took a sip and realized that she hadn't gotten the juice to alcohol ration just right, it being more juice than vodka.
"Darn," she muttered, grabbing the glass and pattering out of the kitchen barefoot. The lights were off in the apartment and the only illumination came from the streetlights outside and the occasional shadow-casting movement of a car head beams. No books. No movie. No music. She decided, feeling the tingle of relaxation and exhaustion swell in her breast. She wanted to just sit and stare into space for a while. She deserved an hour to waste on staring at nothing.
But apparently life had other plans.
Kerry inhaled deeply, hand reflexively tightening around the glass in her hand. Her eyes had adapted to the dark, but he was sitting in the shadows and the darkness of the leather recliner further hid him from view. She was used to seeing his form in the dark, a silhouette of shadow in the inky blackness of night, and her eyes easily recognised who he was. Kerry took a drink from her weak screwdriver, feeling her shoulders tense at the idea of company. Especially from Michel.
"Relaxing shower?" he asked, disarming her by reaching over and turning on a lamp. Kerry blinked against the soft light, turning her gaze away as she sat on the couch and put her feet up on the table.
"It had been," she responded, taking another fortifying sip of her drink before finally looking over at him. He was smirking at her, his hair falling into his eyes. He was wearing a light blue polo shirt and jeans, and was lounging in insolent comfort on her chair, ankle braced on the opposite knee.
God, he looked young.
Her heart rate smoothed out as she regarded him, realizing that though he was still attractive, her hands didn't itch to touch him and her breath wasn't shortened by perceived sexual tension in the room. Give it time, the cynical side of her whispered, but most importantly she was relieved, as though she had passed a test of some kind. It had been so long since she had seen him, and she was in love with someone else now. She had half expected to feel an overwhelming urge to shove him against a wall and fuck him. She didn't. Kerry smiled. "You didn't need to come here and deal with it yourself."
As she had been observing him, he had been watching her, and the look of amusement slipped from his face. His expression was the blankness he allowed through the cracks when false emotions failed and he didn't want the world to see him. Sometimes, Kerry used to think that the blankness was what he really felt, making him a vampire sociopath but other times she wondered if it was a show of vulnerability in a mask he thought was hiding all signs of weakness. "I know the area," he said with a shrug.
"It's dangerous for you here, especially now."
"Why Kerry," he mocked, the smirk back, "I didn't know you cared."
"I care enough," she snapped. "If the Ethan Bryne story is questioned, the Kerry Nowicki version will questioned too, and we both know that the case can't stand up to modern scrutiny. It wasn't even sound enough back then, but the fact that I was an innocent young girl, good grades, well-known in the community, and obviously the victim all backed up my story and the police and medical examiner both interpreted the evidence on my side."
"Ah," he said. "And murder doesn't have a statute of limitations. I bet you wish they had arrested you and allowed you to be tried in court instead of protecting you, because you still would have been found innocent, but they can't legally try you for the same crime again."
"And I bet you wish you had never offered me a drive home from the grocery store that night." She hated it, but the side of her that had loved him watched carefully for his response.
"And miss out on those nights of your pleasant company, being betrayed and shot in the knees, and having to skip town three years before I planned to? Of course I wouldn't give that up." His stare was even and as she looked at him, she couldn't help but wonder what he was really thinking.
There was a body in the car masquerading as Ethan Bryne, Kerry reminded herself. That was on him. He wasn't the innocent he wanted the world to see when they looked at his clean cut appearance. But she already knew that, and knew it well. "Have you located the vampire killing all those people?"
"It isn't always quite the same as locating a rabid dog. Sometimes the vampire can blend in and live as we all do until it comes to feeding, and then he loses control. Sometimes, he never loses control and the reasons behind the body count are more complicated."
Kerry was silent, still watching him as he leaned forward with his elbows braced on his knees, hands dangling towards the floor as he explained it to her. "You mean like deliberately leaving a trail," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
Kerry frowned. "Well," she said with a sigh. "That makes it way more complicated."
Michel agreed with her. They fell into a casual silence that was both uncomfortable and familiar. She was used to not having anything to say to him, though for years she had wished that she had been friendlier to him when given the chance. "So you decided on becoming a reporter?"
"Yes," she responded, though he knew about that. "I'm working for the Tribune now, but I'm hoping to become consultant for the Rockport Democrat and Chronicle."
"It's good to have dreams."
"You're just lucky one of them isn't a Pulitzer, because breaking this story might just make me big."
Michel snorted. "Or put you in the running for the staff of the National Enquirer." He reached across the table to grab her drink, casually taking a sip and grimacing. "Weak," he told her. Sitting back into the well-padded seat and surveying her. "I'm sure I don't have to warn you of the consequences if you decide to come up against us."
"I'm not stupid," Kerry said sharply. "And I wouldn't betray..." trailing off as she realized she had no way to finish the sentence.
"Who wouldn't you betray?" Michel asked, hiding a smile behind the glass.
"You," she finally answered, realizing she was corner. "Or at least the memory of you."
"Well, if it's good enough to keep you up at night...." he trailed off with a leer and a rise of his eyebrows.
Kerry smirked. "I have a boyfriend now. I no longer stay up for hours thinking about you."
Both of them ignored the fact she admitted that it had happened.
"I figured you were living with someone," he told her, placing the screwdriver back on the table and getting to his feet. He stretched slightly, like a cat loosening its muscles, and grinned down at her. "Either that or you suddenly gained a penchant for size eleven hiking boots, a porn stash, and mammoth sized hockey jerseys."
"I knew about the porn," she answered defensively.
"But Kerry," his voice continued, the tone deliberately low and sexy. "If you want to continue being faithful to him, you should think about tightening your robe and sitting with your legs on the floor the next time we speak."
Kerry inhaled sharply through her nose, defensively looking down at her position and realized he had made it sound far more indecent than it actually was. Still, she tightened the collar of her robe, but when she looked back into her living room, he was gone. She hadn't even heard him use the door.
©RelenaFanel, November 24, 2008.
Ah Michel, you hot, sneaky bastard.
I am so tired. So this is a nice, long chapter to reward everyone who has been waiting FOREVER for me to update. I am sorry. I hope that once I'm finished this term that I'll have time to write in December. In fact, I'm going to make time.
Also, Companions of the Night is now a Category under Books on this website. So is Dragon's Bait, Heir Apparent, A Coming Evil (and possibly others) of VVV's books. I've moved the Murking Fantasy C2 into General in order to keep all the VVV fanfics in it as people change their categories, but unfortunately that will make it extremely difficult to find now amid all the Harry Potter crossovers.