Moonlight: The Next Chapter

Epilogue

Author's note: Moonlight: The Next Chapter is now complete. Thank you for going on this journey with me & hanging in there when real life slowed me down. I can't stay away from these characters & their story, though, so Chapter 1 of Book 2 will post next weekend. There's a lot more story to tell and the danger is just beginning. I hope you'll be interested enough to follow along...

Intro song: In the Air Tonight, Phil Collins

The Chicago skyline was breathtaking, its lights twinkling like glitter on the water of Lake Michigan as the night waned. It may be a Midwestern town, but tonight it could hold its own with any major coastal city.

The view was a barely-noticed backdrop, however, for Christophe Durand's thoughts. He stared blankly

from the suite window, and took a long sip from his glass, enjoying the burn of his favorite brandy as it slid like liquid fire down his throat.

Everything that had transpired over the past several weeks was neatly filed in his hyper-organized mind. He'd reviewed the details over and over, checking them against his plans, looking for weaknesses, flaws, or ways in which he could have adapted to react quicker, more effectively. It was his own personal After Action Review, a process learned from his years in the military, particularly his SEAL training. AARs were a sacred ritual after military operations, usually conducted with the principals involved in planning and executing the operation. Participants were asked to objectively and dispassionately go through a structured process: identify what had worked, list what worked, but could have been tweaked to be more effective, and, most importantly, pinpoint what had not worked.

He'd been engaged in the process for the past hour. He'd concluded that his plans were solid and required little adjustments. It was the people involved that were the issue. If his plan had been followed as ordered, Crucis would be well on its way by now to ridding this part of the world of the vampire scourge. If only.

"But that would have been too easy, wouldn't it?" he asked his reflection in the window.

John Giles' distraction with his erstwhile wife had been challenge enough, but he'd dealt with it – and now, Giles was under control but singularly focused on killing vampires. Just as he'd hoped. Admittedly he had loathed the necessity of killing an agent as good as Rebecca Anderson but sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. He raised his glass in a toast with the image in the glass, smiling. "To you, Rebecca."

Suddenly, he jumped, spilling the remainder of his drink down his shirt as he spun around to check the room behind him. Empty. It's empty. For a moment, he thought he'd seen McGowan reflected in the window, just as he had last seen him – writhing on the floor of his office in a pool of blood, his intestines spilling out onto Durand's Persian rug. "It was just a shadow," he told himself as he poured a fresh drink. The shadow of an idiot.

McGowan had single-handedly almost derailed the smooth Crucis engine of extermination. Killing him had provided some small measure of satisfaction; nonetheless, Christophe was frustrated by the continued reverberations of the now-dead detective's actions. It would be difficult to catch the vampires unaware again and he didn't know if he had the luxury of waiting until they were lulled to sleep again. How many more innocents might they kill in that time? Or worse, turn to be monsters like them? He needed to exert some measure of control though. They would, no doubt, be watching. He had to give the creatures credit. They were smart - too smart - and most of them adapted quickly. But they weren't unbeatable.

Durand had learned over the years that vampires were plagued with the same sins as

humans in many respects - greed, lust, selfishness, and, perhaps the most potentially fatal flaw of

all, self-delusion. They just didn't want to see danger coming their way. It had been all too easy, so far, to capture and kill some of their more privileged and powerful members - with the exception of

Victoria Silver. It would have worked, however, had their effort not been thwarted by the vampire from California, Mick St. John.

His source had told him, however, that their leadership was still divided as to whether there was even a real threat - a certain sign of their collective complacency. They were so smug in their perceived superiority. Good. Let them be smug; that played into his plans. All he had to do was be patient enough to give them the time and space to lull themselves back to sleep, convince themselves that the threat was imaginary.

Durand sighed. There was that word again – patience. It did not come to him naturally. It had been beaten into him in his time at the seminary, drilled into him in his Seal training, and honed in his years chasing monsters. He would need all that training and discipline now. Sometimes the best approach was, truly, to do nothing at all. Control, Christophe. Patience. He smiled thinly. It would be a good test of his own self-discipline, something that he needed to evaluate periodically. Yes, let the beasts settle down. In the meantime, he had matters to attend to. If the cretin had done nothing else, McGowan had proven that there were members of law enforcement who could be swayed to his cause.

His recent interactions with Ben Talbot had left him feeling particularly optimistic. The man practically oozed ambition. Of course, the specifics of how to bring the ADA fully on board had to be worked out carefully, but there was something about Talbot that made Christophe confident that this could be accomplished. The man had just the right combination of power, ambition - and weakness - to be manipulated.

And then, there was the cop who had been with St. John when all this happened... Carl Davis, that was his name. The vampire had been badly injured in his presence. The odds were good that his mask had slipped, and the officer had seen something he couldn't explain - maybe even the real monster behind that mask. If he had, no doubt he was in shock or denial, trying to rationalize what he'd seen. Either way, Davis might prove useful - an actual witness with a real sighting who just so happened to work with Talbot.

Last, but not least, there was the vampire himself. Christophe had to acknowledge a growing fascination with Mick St. John. First he had saved Victoria Silver, necessitating a change in plans for the annihilation of the New York community. Now, he had survived an admittedly unauthorized attack, but one that had utilized their best weaponry. By all rights, he should have died, but his source reported that the injured vampire was recovering very wanted to meet the "hero" personally. Nothing beats looking your prey in the eye.

St. John may prove to be a very worthy adversary - something he always welcomed. Because you always win. Or maybe he'd be a good test for his son. Adam was supremely confident in his ability to handle vampires - perhaps too much so. Durand's SEAL training had taught him to always respect your enemies. Not to do so was a sure path to failure. This intriguing vampire might be just the litmus test he needed to see if Adam was truly ready to handle more responsibility in the organization. Either way, though, they would neutralize the creature... and his human friends. The thought gave him satisfaction - and a modicum of impatience. He craved St. John's scalp on his belt...and a special hell for the bitch who knowingly slept with, and helped save, the monster.

"All in good time," he admonished himself. The Crucis leader emptied his glass, and decided it best to get some sleep. Tomorrow he would begin…

"Josef, are you all right?"

Kostan had barely crossed into the room when he noticed that all eyes there were on him. His attention turned toward his friend, whose inquiry carried more than a hint of concern.

"I'm fine. Just... business, you know how it goes."

He could tell that Mick was not fully convinced, but, thankfully, he let it go. Josef unleashed a smile to disarm them and wordlessly resumed his seat next to a dozing Simone, relaxing as she snuggled into his side like a cat without ever opening her eyes. It was as if she could sense that he was there. And her presence was comforting to him. He didn't want to think about what that meant.

He cast his gaze around at the people who were still there - Beth, who had joined Logan, Gabby and Ryder in their quest for world domination, Guillermo and Terrance, who were still drinking and chatting with Guilia and a couple of the other Cleaners, and a smattering of others who seemed determined to see the next day's light together.

And Mick.

The thought of what had happened to one of the only people he truly loved caused the rage to bubble up inside him again. Josef had long ago made peace with the hard reality there were humans who wanted to kill their kind. He'd also readily admit that, over the course of his long life - one he had willingly embraced - he'd done things for which death was probably – certainly - a justifiable punishment.

Mick was different. Here was a man who had never asked for any of this, who'd gotten a raw deal from the beginning and was trying to make the best of it. He finally seemed on his way to happiness with Beth, even if their time together would pass in the blink of an eye for a vampire if she refused to be turned. Convincing her to enter their world, however, was Mick's job, not his. He felt like it was his job, however, to keep Mick in one piece. When he closed his eyes, he could still see the nightmarish images of his friend's torn, bloodied body, the horrific screams of pain that escaped from lungs struggling to breathe...

"Hey!"

The sudden hand on his shoulder startled Josef out of his reverie. "Dammit, Mick, wear a bell or something would ya?! I damn near swallowed my tongue!"

"Sorry," Mick smirked. "I know some of the places that tongue has been and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Not even you. Listen, I've finally convinced Beth to go to bed once they kill some more bad guys on that damn game of Logan's. Guillermo, Terrance and I, and a few of the others, want to play some cards before calling it a night. You in?"

"Absolutely." Just what I need; something to take my mind off all this. Josef planted a kiss on the top of Simone's head and eased himself up from the lounge chair, pausing to tuck the blanket around her more securely. When he straightened, he caught the look from his friend. "What?!"

"Nothing! Just nice to see you care for someone besides yourself for a change."

Kostan sighed. "OK, lead on, MacDuff - and be prepared to lose the shirt off your back."

"First of all, since you supplied the clothes, you technically own the shirt on my back already. Secondly, to be accurate, it's 'lay on, MacDuff'."

"Fuck you."

Sticking his hands on his hips, the P.I. raised one eyebrow at his friend. "Just trying to instill a little culture."

"Okay, then. Fuck you, MacDuff."

Mick decided to ignore the non sequitur. "So... since you are the host, you get to pick the game."

Josef grinned mischievously. "How about... five card... stud?"

St. John sighed dejectedly. "You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nope. Not a chance." Kostan clapped his exasperated friend on the back as they walked into the house together.

Unnoticed, speculative eyes watched them go…

End Song: Symmetry, SYML