An unexpected death leaves Myka contemplating what makes a monster.
Myka went back home that morning to find Sameen still there, sitting on the sofa with Tracy and David, and on the other sofa Amanda and Pete were asleep under a soft blanket, wrapped around each other. Myka raised an eyebrow, and Tracy held a finger to her lips before padding out to the kitchen, pulling Myka along in her wake.
"They were up most of the night talking. I didn't want to wake them, so we've been sitting quietly watching cartoons. I don't know who likes them better – Sam or David," she said, fondly, her lips curling into a half-smile.
"Okay," Myka said, nodding. "Maybe they worked their shit out, finally."
Tracy shrugged. "Don't know what came of it, but they definitely talked."
"Cool. You guys okay?" Myka asked, and Tracy's mouth broke into a wide smile.
"Yeah. Everything is pretty great, actually. Sameen is… she doesn't talk much, I know, but she's a real sweetheart," Tracy said, smiling so widely that it looked like her face was going to split in half.
They made some breakfast, bacon and eggs and some sort of biscuit that Amanda put together from ingredients that Myka didn't even know she possessed. Amanda had woken at the first scent of food, and had looked at the amount critically before doubling it and adding the biscuits. Myka was relegated to coffee duty.
The next two days followed the same pattern – Myka and Helena looked after David during the evening while the weres went to do whatever it was that they did during the full moon. Myka didn't want to enquire too closely about what that was, and in what form everyone was in when they were doing… well, whatever. She turned her mind firmly away from the mental images she was giving herself, and concentrated on trying to beat Helena at Scrabble. David had been doing terribly well until Myka realised that he was reading her mind because she had, on reflex, let her shields relax when Helena arrived. She replaced them, willing them to be stronger than ever, and the little dude's face creased up in concentration and then a frown once he realised what she'd done. Then the words he came up with became a lot less complex, and eventually he gave up, turning to the television and playing some sort of video game that seemed to involve driving cars into walls. Or perhaps that was just his lack of co-ordination – the boy was really very young, something that she kept forgetting because of his manner. She wondered if she, too, had seemed that strange and grown-up to adults at that age.
The morning after the third night of the full moon, they were sharing a pleasant (if quiet) breakfast in the kitchen, Sameen, Amanda and Pete telling war stories, each trying to one-up the other, when Tracy's cell rang. It was Kevin. She went into the other room for some privacy. David was in the living room watching television.
"So he hit me in the kidney, and I was ready to throw up…" Sameen was saying, "I kicked him in the knee, kicked it out to one side, and that was it – tore up his cruciate ligament. Fucker never touched me again."
Aunt Myka something's wrong with mom…
Myka got up so fast that her chair fell backwards. She went straight to the living room, just in time to catch Tracy, whose knees were giving out. She didn't even need to drop her shields to hear. Tracy's father – her father – was dead.
"What happened, Trace?" she asked, gently, pulling David to her as she supported Tracy.
"He… they don't know. They found him in the road. He was a drinker, especially the last couple of years. The injuries – they said they were so severe that he could have been hit by a Mack truck."
"I'm so sorry, Trace. And David. I'm sorry, kid. Your grandpa – he's gone," Myka said.
"I know, Aunt Myka," he said, sadly. "He told me."
"He what?" Myka asked, her brow furrowed.
"He told me that someone was hurting him. He couldn't see who it was. But he was scared, Aunt Myka. They moved so fast he couldn't see. Like Aunt Helena!" he said, saddened but not particularly concerned, it appeared.
"How do you know this, David?"
"I heard him last night, Aunt Myka. When I was sleeping. I thought it was a dream," he said, shrugging.
Tracy was crying, but it seemed like it was mostly through shock rather than through any particular love for her father. Myka's mind, however, was racing. Her father happens to get killed by an unseen assailant a week after he threatened her life. An unseen assailant who might very well have been a vampire. The fact that David had heard his grandfather's last thoughts was a problem for another day, but Warren's death was not a coincidence. Myka was very much afraid that Helena was behind this. And she was afraid of what that meant for her, for them. She knew that Helena wasn't human; that she didn't think like a human. It wasn't like Helena hadn't warned her. But she'd never expected anything like this.
The rest of the day was spent making travel arrangements for Tracy, David and Sameen to fly to Colorado to arrange the funeral. Myka didn't have any interest in attending, and Sameen had offered to go before Myka could make what was going to be a very half-hearted offer to accompany Tracy, for support. She was surprised at the small woman's commitment to Tracy. It seemed a little too much, too soon. But it wasn't her relationship, and she wasn't going to interfere. She had her own relationship to worry about.
Tracy went to bed early, taking David with her though he claimed to be wide awake. Sameen crept upstairs shortly afterwards, making Myka snort in amusement. Did she think she was being subtle?
Pete and Amanda were both watching her worriedly as sunset approached.
"You okay, Sheriff?" Pete asked, his mouth full of leftover biscuit from breakfast.
"Yeah, fine," she said dully. She wasn't fine. Tonight was going to be painful, and even though she knew what she had to do, she didn't want to. Didn't want to end the relationship that had been giving her such joy, especially recently. She was in love with Helena, and now she had to end it, because Helena was what she had always said she was. A monster. A killer. A vampire.
"I'm sorry, boss," Pete said, squeezing her shoulder gently. "You couldn't have known, that she would do something like this. Not that I can entirely blame her – I wanted to kill the jackass myself for threatening you," he said thoughtfully.
"I guess," Myka said, plucking at her sleeve listlessly. She decided to go to Helena's house, to wait for her there. She would have to drop off her key anyway. Might as well get it over with.
She drove to the vampire's house for what would most likely be the last time, her heart heavy and her head full of fog. Helena had killed her father. She wouldn't have known, had it not been for the unexpected strength of David's gift. If she was honest with herself, she would have been okay not knowing. The world was better off without Warren Bering in it, but Helena couldn't just go around killing everyone who offended Myka.
Myka let herself in to the large house, looking around her wistfully as she left her key on the coffee table and sat down, waiting for Helena to rise from her day's sleep.
She felt that whisper against her other sense, felt the blessed silence of Helena's mind, and she took a deep breath before looking up to meet the eyes of her vampire.
"Helena," she said dully.
"Myka. What has happened to you, my love?" Helena said, and Myka took a deep breath, again, to steady herself.
"My father died," Myka said, meeting Helena's eyes, searching them. Even so, she almost missed the tiny flinch that crossed Helena's face.
"I am sorry to hear that, Myka. What happened?" she asked, and her face was carefully blank. Myka laughed bitterly.
"You know my nephew is telepathic, Helena? Well, it appears that his gift is so strong that he heard Warren's last thoughts, about his attacker. Someone who moved like you, David said. Like his Aunt Helena," she said mockingly, and the flinch was much more noticeable, this time. "I know my father was an unpleasant man, Helena, but even he's not stupid enough to piss off a vampire. Who did it? You were with me, so I know it wasn't you."
Helena stared before realising, apparently, that there was no point in pretending. She sat next to Myka.
"An old friend. He owed me a favour."
"And you thought you'd call in that favour by asking him to murder someone. My father. A man I hated, sure. But I didn't want him dead," Myka said, trying to hold back her tears. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to lose what she had with Helena. But she couldn't…
"I did," Helena said, flatly. "He was going to hurt you, Myka. He would have, given the chance. He hurt you, he deserted you, a child, and he would have hurt you, again. I chose not to give him the opportunity again."
"You chose? You chose to kill a man, for my benefit, without asking me if it was even something I wanted. You chose?"
"Yes," Helena said stiffly. "One way or another, he would have hurt you again, Myka. I could not allow that to happen."
"I see. And what if, somewhere along the line, someone else offends me or hurts me. Are you going to kill everyone that I have a disagreement with?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Myka," Helena said, her face set. "I made a judgement. Your father would have hurt you again; if not physically then certainly emotionally. You were never supposed to know."
"And I would have loved not to know, Helena. But I do. And now that means… I have to do something about it."
"Do what?" Helena asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Well, given that I'm the Sheriff, and that you have pretty much admitted to me that you arranged for my father's death, I could arrest you for murder. But it would be hard to prove without finding this other vampire, whoever it was. So I'm doing the only thing I can. I'm breaking up with you," Myka said firmly.
Helena stared at her.
"I was looking after your interests, Myka. You know that he would have hurt you again," Helena said, looking completely stunned.
"Yes, he would have. I'm sure of it. He would have hurt me somehow, and probably Tracy and David too. But that's life, Helena. You can't just go around killing people because they hurt me."
"You didn't seem to mind when it was your deputies that I killed," Helena said, angry now. She was almost snarling.
"That was different, Helena. If you can't see that, then I guess… well, we have nothing else to talk about," Myka said, and the pressure in her chest, that had been growing since she came to see Helena, increased exponentially. She had to go. This was really it.
"But I love you," Helena said, looking almost puzzled.
"I know," Myka said, sadly. "I love you too. It doesn't make any difference, though."
Helena pulled Myka against her roughly and kissed her. She was rough but she was thorough, and Myka was out of breath by the time she finished.
"It's the only thing that makes any difference," Helena snarled, and Myka shook her head.
"I'm sorry," Myka said, once she'd caught her breath. She stood unsteadily, pointing at the key on the coffee table. "I left your key. Goodbye, Helena."
"Don't do this, Myka," Helena pleaded, her eyes beginning to leak bloody tears.
"I have to," Myka said. "You told me, and I didn't believe you. You said you were a killer, that you were a monster, and I didn't believe you. Until now."
She turned and walked out, her back straight. She didn't look back. She heard Helena's sobs behind her and her heart clenched. The night before, she had believed she had everything she could ever want. But now that joy tasted like ashes in her mouth.