2021-05-11 - Tuesday
04:15 "Cadee and Anne"
“How do I look?”
Anne Millet parted her eyes from the TV screen where an old vampire’s movie was showing, and distractedly inspected her roommate. Half a second later she pushed the ‘pause’ button on the DVD player and looked again.
“Have you decided to change careers?” She asked, appraising a scantly clothed Cadee with narrowed eyes. She had just returned from work, but it wasn’t unusual that she left again.
“Don’t be daft! Do I look like a hooker or not?”
“Sure you do… let me guess, you want to better your tips at the bar?” She suppressed a giggle when her friend rolled her eyes.
“Annie, I swear I don’t know how I bear with you.” Cadee said in an exasperated tone, and opened her arms in a prompting gesture, so her roommate took her seriously.
“‘Cause you love me,” Anne stood up. She walked round her friend, watching her with her actress’ eye and nodded in approval. Cadee’s blond hair was piled in a waterfall of curls at the top of her head, and she was wearing too much make up. The small red top showed too much of her bosom and the leather mini skirt wasn’t much better. She looked at Cadee’s kilometer long legs, clothed in fishnet stockings and frowned. “Are you sure you can run in those stilettos?
Cadee shrugged. “Somehow sneakers didn’t seem to fit.”
“You bet. You look fine; just don’t bring any clients home.” Anne giggled, but stopped at Cadee’s warning glance. Sobering up, she added, “I don’t suppose you’re gonna tell me what’s it about, do you?”
“Seems a vampire’s terrorizing the hookers around West Side Highway,” Cadee answered, giving her hair a final pat. She winked at Anne. “I overhead the cops at the bar.”
“Figures.” Anne knew Cadee usually ‘overheard’ the SCU cops frequenting the Slàinte. Poor people, they thought it safe to speak their business in a bar full of music, laughter and talking, but they didn’t count on Cadee having radar ears. Or she knowing of the supernatural. Or she ‘being’ part supernatural herself. “And why don’t you let them handle the matter?”
“Need the rush." Cadee shrugged. "It's late, but I want to take a look, at least.”
“Girl, you so need to get laid,” Anne said, and Cadee laughed, but she sobered up when she remembered gallant-guy. She hoped he actually returned. She was going to mention him to her friend, when Anne spoke again.
“Just be careful, ok?” She was used to her friend ‘escapades’ at night, but usually she looked all Xena like and not Hollywood Blvd.
“When haven’t I?” the blonde answered, smiling beatifically to her friend.
“Now, I distinctively remember one time you got home with a bullet in your shoulder, and there was that time you burnt half of your hair. Ah, and don’t forget the time I had to take that nasty looking stick off your leg…”
Cadee laughed. “Trifles; and it was a stake.”
She took her leather jacket, heavy with hidden weaponry, and put it on while walking to the door.
“Well, at least you’re taking the Jacket.” Anne frowned, her actress gene showing up, “doesn’t go better with that outfit than sneakers, though…”
“Doesn’t matter. I may want to look like a whore, but I’m surely not stupid,” Cadee winked at Anne and left the apartment.
“Sometimes I wonder,” the girl said to the closing door. She sighed and concentrated on her movie again.
07:21 "Carmine and Magda"
Carmine waited at the bus-stop for Magdalena. She had school but he liked to wait for her and give her things like Danishes from the corner bakery. Mr Hooper from the baker sometimes gave Carmine the biggest Danish cause he was a big boy. Magdalena wasn't a big boy cause she was only fifteen and not a boy but she liked the big Danishes, too.
Carmine spotted her coming this way with her bookbag. Carmine stood up and smiled at her and waved and she waved back. She jumped up to kiss Carmine on the cheek like she always did. "I brought you something, Magda. It's a...ruby," he fibbed a little because he couldn't remember what it was really called. He figured it wouldn't be so bad.
He pulled out the tiny red dot and started to hand it to her tiny hand with his thick fingers. As it moved closer to her hand it seemed that time slowed down. The street got blurry and Carmine could feel the breeze slow down and the sound of the city fade into a distant echo.
A loud voice boomed in his ears, "Carmine Bocelli, that girl will never love you. She is using you as long as you give her things, but the instant you stop she will leave you for someone smarter and more successful. You are a stupid loser that she could never love."
"Nuh-uh!" Carmine said.
He was a little confused about why he could talk but not move, but since he started working for Mr. Balthazar things had been a like that more and more frequently. Mr. B. said that sometimes asking "why" or "how" was a way to show people your ignorance. Truly intelligent men just allowed things to happen and looked up the answers later.
"Carmine Bocelli, you cannot lie to me. I know your heart and I know your soul. If you promise me your soul then I will see that the girl will love you for the rest of both of your lives. I will promise that she will lay with you as woman lays with a man. I will promise that your every dream for the two of you will come true."
Carmine wondered if the voice was Jesus, but he figured that was one of those questions that an ignorant men asks so he let it slide. His only dream for Magdalena was to sleep with her. He had been waiting until she was a older since her Mama said he was way to old for her. His Mama said she was way to young for him which he saw as different but he couldn't figure out how. Magdalena said that as soon as she was sixteen that it was okay under the law. She was smart so he figured she was right.
"If I give you my soul will it hurt?" This was the kind of question that Mr. B. usually allowed. Making sure of things was a good thing. That way you didn't become a fuck-up like Milo who had been told to get the ugly dog from the docks but not to sit on the cage. He sat on the cage and got his ass bit up and so Mr. B called him a fuck-up every time he saw him.
"No, Carmine Bocelli, it will not hurt. All you will feel is the bliss of knowing your woman will love you for the rest of your lives."
"Okay, then."
And just as suddenly it was over. The red dot was in Magdalena's hand. It seemed shiner and a little bigger too. She held it up to the light and peered through it then squealed with delight. "God, Carmine, it is amazing! I can't wait to show it to everyone! Tonight. Tonight, Carmine. Mama's got choir practice and I'll be home alone. Come over tonight and I can show you how much I love you!"
"Tonight," Carmine confirmed, "I'll be there. I love you too!"
09:57 "Jasmin's Apartment, 151 Wooster Street, SoHo"
2021-05-11 9:57 – Tuesday
Jasmin's Apartment, 151 Wooster Street, SoHo
Jasmin looked at the clock on her wall, then back to her stack of about eight thick envelopes on the table. Once more, she considered scouring the supernatural world for a demon or some such to deliver mail for her on days like this, as it inched closer to ten in the morning. This was far too late to be up and moving about on a regular basis. Her home was modest for someone who had spent as much time working in the industry as she did, which still made it look rather upscale compared to everyone else.
She settled down onto the couch, older heavy metal playing to keep her awake. Unlike the modern stuff, she could actually understand that. So now she closed her eyes and waited as patiently as she could, listening to Sharon den Adele singing about Our Solemn Hour.
When the knocking at the door finally came, the woman dragged herself out of the couch, heading over to crack the door open with a tired look and slight smile. “Ah, there you are. Please, come inside.”
Anne smiled to the blond woman and stepped inside the shadowed house. Jasmin didn’t look too happy –she knew she as late– but it wasn’t like her to be put down by a client, and she knew better than to appear intimidated. She inspected the blonde and noticed her tired expression and almost transparent-looking skin.*She’s probably been up all night,* she thought, and felt suddenly guilty.
“Sorry, Jasmin,” she said, smiling beatifically, “traffic was hell. Even for me.”
She almost smiled as she saw the other flinch, she probably wasn’t very used to be addressed in a first name basis by errand girls. But of course, the woman was VIP. She owned a fancy club, and most important, she was a theatre producer, with connections back in Hollywood from where she came about five years ago.
*It could be so good if you could just, you know, suck up a little, Annie.* She thought to herself, but she knew that asking to be sent to Jasmin every time she called for a courier would be the whole expanse of her sucking up. *It’s enough. At least she recognizes me at auditions!*
“Be glad you are not in Los Angeles,” she said lightly, door closing behind her. Good, mild discomfort; her mission was accomplished. Good day for them to send Anne, since most of her deliveries today were going to people in the theatre. Not for the first time, she considered an ad for a personal asisstant. “This one time, we were going to pick up someone from the airport, and got stuck on the freeway for three hours. I could have walked.”
Still, she stopped and looked over the other woman, eying her carefully as she started to consider. Her regular courier had left the company, and it was always good to have someone carrying her things recognized. “You might be interested to know that we're having an emergency audition, by the way. Someone was stupid enough to fail rehab three times.”
“Oh. That’s interesting indeed, thanks for the tip, Jasmin.” Anne eyes shone and she smiled, but she forced herself not to ask for details. Maybe it was paying out after all. “What do you need me for this morning?”
Jasmin moved over, to pick up her stack, putting it down on the back of the couch. The letters balanced precariously on edge. “It'll probably be a good couple hours worth – this one,” she pulled out one of the envelopes, “is the only time-sensitive one. Needs to get there by one for a conference call. Rest of it is all at your leisure. Mostly people in the industry today, actually.”
Anne took the envelopes and looked at the address on the one Jasmin had sorted as top priority. She nodded, it shouldn’t be a problem. Then she checked the other ones, they weren’t too much trouble either. The addresses were well spread all around the Village and Broadway, but nothing that would take her more than the couple of hours Jasmin had predicted, Anne even recognized some of the names, including the director of ‘1776’, the play Jasmin was producing. Cool, she could get the details of the audition while delivering.
“No problema,” she raised her eyes and smiled. “From your hands to theirs, Madam. Anytyhing else?”
Jasmin shook her head and actually yawned, as the next song started up on the concert CD. She moved to her purse to actually pull out and peel off a small set of four $20 bills, holding it out to her. It was an unwritten rule of hers: tip well. Tip very well. “Let's see.... mail,” she turned to look her over as she spoke, “tip, and image in my head of an attractive woman when I fall into bed. Think we may be good.”
Without counting the bills, Anne folded them and pushed them into her corset – she was used to Jasmin’s generosity, another good reason for working for her. Then she frowned, the woman was practically falling asleep in her feet, she better go.
“All-righty,” she said, while walking to the door. “I’m off, then. Have a nice… day.”
16:30 "Love Scene"
Magda practically jumped off of the bus and into Carmine's arms. Carmine could tell all the other girls thought that Magda was pretty cool since she had an older boyfriend. Especially one like Carmine who gave her nice things and who had an important job like working for Mr. Balthazar.
Magda ran inside and waved for Carmine to come in with her. Magdalena's mom didn't like Carmine being inside with her alone. She said Magdalena needed a chaperone. Carmine didn't know what that meant exactly but Magda's mom made it pretty clear that Carmine and Magda couldn't be alone together.
"I'll kill you Carmine Bocelli if you defile my pure Magdalena. I will beat your head in and spit on your corpse. I don't like you seeing her but I can't stop that. But I will see that she keeps her virtue intact, Jesus help me."
Carmine didn't think Jesus would approve of her beating his head in, but The Voice had said that Magdalena would be his. Carmine was on the fence on whether The Voice was Jesus or not. He figured it was somebody more important than Magdalena's mom.
Magda had lead him by the hand up the narrow stairs to her room. It was painted Barbietm pink. She had stuck stickers with sparkles all around her mirror and on the computer monitor and had pictures of her and Carmine in frames with lots of pink hears and rainbows. Magda's room usually made Carmine laugh, but not today.
Magda told him that her momma was at bible study. She always had bible study on Tuesdays and that she wouldn't be home until after 7:00. As long as Carmine wasn't here when she got home they'd be okay.
Magda was tugging at his belt. Carmine just pulled down and his pants dropped off. he wore them low so that part was easy. She playfully pulled at his boxers and he pulled off her t-shirt. Pretty soon they were naked. Carmine had been naked with girls before. He knew what was supposed to happen, but Magda wasn't really good like those other girls.
Neither of them had a condom, but Carmine said he didn't need one since he was gonna marry Magda. She made a lot of noise and didn't smile much. She didn't seem to like it like those other girls. Carmine wasn't sure what to do when he saw blood, but Magda said that she had been told in Health class that that might happen. Carmine finished doing it and then rolled back onto the bed and fell asleep with Magda in his arms.
He dreamed of how beautiful their kids would be.
18:40 "Meredith meets Cadee at Slainte"
Slainte Bar - Tuesday 6:40pm
She was doodling. That was never a good sign.
Meredith sighed and took a sip from her soda, stealing a furtive glance at the rest of the patrons of the Slainte Bar. It was still early, so hardly surprising that the current occupants were slim pickin’s indeed. She wasn’t in the habit of coming to bars on her own. No that wasn’t true. She did go to bars on her own, but it wasn’t for the obvious reason. Slainte was a cop bar, usually a very crowded one. Meredith had learnt a long time ago that the best place to sniff out a story was here, where some of the city’s finest came to chill out, to blow off some steam after another lousy shift and exchange stories with their buddies. And if a budding journalist just happened to overhear something juicy… well, two birds with one stone and all that.
But tonight was going about as well as a bacon-sandwich buffet at a bar mitzvah. So far, the best gossip she’d heard was that someone had broken Detective Hendrickson’s coffee cup whilst trying to trick shot it into his in-tray. Hardly front page news unless this Detective Hendrickson harboured a few homicidal tendencies and was overly fond of that particular mug.
Meredith shook her head, eying the bowl of chilli fries she’d ordered, picking at the melted cheese and drawing on every ounce of willpower she possessed not to just shove them into her mouth by the handful. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, stronger than she’d ever felt it before. It didn’t matter what she ate lately, it was never enough and it never satisfied her insatiable hunger. Maybe there was something wrong with her?
“You know, we have meatier treats than those,” Cadee said as she approached the table. At the girl’s confused look, she added. “I’m sorry, but I just heard your belly growl… and that’s not allowed at the Slàinte.”
Cadee had a rule not to bother clients who looked like they wanted to be left alone, chat with the ones that looked chatty, and even slightly flirt with the flirty ones. No wonder she was the better tipped girl in the bar. She could manage herself well in most bar-related situations.
Now, this girl, she had seen her several times before, and she was the ‘leave alone’ kind. She was usually working with her laptop or writing in some notebook, probably a student or a writer, or maybe a journalist. However, this afternoon she looked distracted, perhaps even… unhappy?
“Maybe a hamburger? Or a chicken salad? You won’t be disappointed, we have the best in town.” Cadee winked at the brunette and added, “my recipe.”
*Or maybe a great big fat steak, extra rare…* Meredith almost swivelled on her stool as another waitress emerged from the kitchen with a well loaded plate. Unfortunately, her budget didn’t run to such extravagances, besides, she had a set later that night and a full stomach didn’t sit well with a vigorous dance routine.
Meredith looked up and smiled at the waitress. She’d seen her working here most nights, in fact, she was probably the main attraction for most of the regulars. With her long golden locks and bronzed skin, she looked like she’d be more at home in a Californian beach bar than an Irish theme pub in New York.
“I’m sure it is,” she said, laying a hand self-consciously over her stomach to try and stifle any further protests. “But I’m good. Thanks.”
“You’re the paying customer here,” Cadee shook her head feigning sorrow, and then smiled. “Name’s Cadee, if you need anything else, just call me.”
She turned to leave, when, like in a second thought, she went back to the table, put the back of her hand to the bowl of chilli and held it there for a second. She almost lost her train of thought when she inhaled, but recovered quickly. “These are cold. Allow me to bring you another order. Hot this time.”
Was this girl pitching for Employee of the Month or what? Not that it mattered, food was food after all, and hot food was even better. Meredith nodded gratefully, now if only this girl knew about some secret government conspiracy or plot to assassinate the president. *Yeah, right…*
Thankfully the girl - Cadee, didn’t take the cold offerings with her as she left in the direction of the kitchen. Meredith grabbed her fork and shovelled in a couple of mouthfuls - just in case. She knew restaurants like this, they’d only throw it in the garbage and she was so fucking hungry…
She was licking cold chilli from her fingers when she returned, another bowl of steaming hot fries and chilli balanced expertly on a tray. The smell was enough to make Meredith’s stomach start growling again. Cadee smiled, her whole face brightening from her liquid brown eyes to her rosebud lips. Christ she was like an angel or something… *I wonder if she’s single… Gail would literally fall panting at this girl’s feet.*
“Thanks, you really didn’t have to… but thanks.” Meredith felt her cheeks flush as she saw Cadee’s eyes wander to the practically empty bowl. She probably expected a tip or something? Or maybe there was something else you were supposed to say when you got brought an extra hot bowl of chilli fries gratis. Meredith had always been a bit of a misfit when it came to social niceties and all that. Which was probably why she’d swapped waitressing for stripping. At least if she ran out of things to say she could always get her tits out.
Shrugging off her hoodie, Meredith hung it on the back of the bar stool. It was getting hotter in here or maybe it was just the chilli? “You… must be, what? Employee of the Month?”
Cadee blushed as she noticed she had been too intense. But her sense of smell seldom betrayed her, and she had sniffed something strange in the girl. And she was hungry. And now that she had taken off her sweater, she could see a bandage on her arm. Left forearm; like a self-defence wound. She frowned, not liking the possibilities. What had Sandoval mentioned about a werewolf running free in the city?
Forcing herself to smile, she bended a little towards the brunette, trying not to alarm her this time. Oh, yes. She definitely could smell wolf. She put her hand to her mouth, and mocked a whisper. “Look at that girl over there? She’s been Slàinte’s princess for two months. I’m planning a coup d’etat.”
“Well if you need a recommendation…” Meredith smiled but pulled back a little as Cadee moved closer. It hadn’t been an intentional reaction, though it seemed entirely natural considering the invasion of personal space. “Um…” she held her hand out awkwardly, “I’m Meredith.”
Cadee immediately took a step back, she had already learnt what she intended by the proximity; now she had to think what to do. She took Meredith’s hand and shook it, smiling, while she did some math in her head. Last full moon had been when… a whole fortnight ago? If she wasn’t mistaken, this girl had not had her first change yet. *Of course she didn’t, she’s just been bitten, * she told herself. *And probably she doesn’t have a clue on what’s happening to her. * How much till next full moon, ten days? She needed to think about it.
“Nice to meet you, Meredith. I’ve seen you around, do you live close by?”
*Oh crap* Figures this’d be the one time her gaydar was actually working. Was accepting extra fries and shaking hands flirting in the lesbian world? Gail would never forgive her.
“No, I mean, yeah, I live in the city - Lower East Side.” The words were out before she could even think of an acceptable lie. *What did you tell her that for!? Oh come on, it‘s not like the cute blonde waitress is gonna stalk me. Anyway, what‘s she gonna do? Feed me to death?* Or give her exceptional service all night long…
“Actually I’m a student.” *Why are you still talking? Have you turned dyke too?*
*Oh, my God, she so thinks I’m hitting on her.* Cadee thought, watching the girl’s obvious agitation. And no wonder, in her eagerness to learn more about the girl, she may actually shoo her away. She would have laughed if it weren’t so damn important that she kept track of Meredith. She couldn’t possibly approach her with the real reasons for her interest now.
*Sure, what would you tell her… by the way, that wound you have, it was a werewolf. Expect some serious hair growth in about ten days or so.* No way, the girl wouldn’t believe her until she started experiencing more drastic changes, and even then, it was doubtful she did.
Feigning a blush – and thanking her complexion that allowed her to do it, Cadee laughed lightly. “I’m sorry, Meredith, I know how I sounded. Sometimes I tend to be over friendly. I hope you didn’t think I was hitting on you… nothing could turn me away from men.” She sighed, “it’s been a slow evening and I was pretty bored, to be honest.”
*Sure, because why else would you be talking to me. Damn, girl, has it been so long since you made a friend you’ve forgotten how?* Which was a stupid question in itself considering she’d never known how in the first place. Besides which, Cadee was a waitress, she was only being friendly because she was paid to, because it meant bigger tips. Meredith knew all about that.
“Pity.” Her eyes widened as she realised what she’d said, then she couldn’t help laughing. “I mean… I have a friend, she would have liked you. Still would… she doesn’t usually let little things like sexual orientation get in the way. Says it’s all part of the challenge.” She shrugged, taking up the bowl of largely ignored fries and loading up a forkful.
The food eased her anxiety, as did the aimless chatter. A cigarette would have been even better. God she hated sounding so dumb around strangers. She’d have to work on it, after all, a reporter had to be able to talk the truth out of anyone.
“It’s quiet tonight,” she added between mouthfuls. “Not many uniforms.”
“Still early. The S.C.U.s don’t appear till ten, at least. Always hungry, those ones.” Cadee answered, relieved that they had resorted to easy conversation.
“You know, I have a friend who may like your friend…” and then she laughed, for real this time. “If she hears me, I’m dead meat. She’s always trying to set me up. Is yours anything like that?” *Specially if she learns I’m turning her gay*
“Not exactly,” Meredith grinned at the thought of Gail, she’d been her best friend - her only friend, all through college. They’d likely be friends for the rest of their lives, in fact they joked about being a couple of gin soaked old broads in Fort Lauderdale, reminding each other to take their pills and spending all their pension on a Harley. “She thinks men are a waste of breathable oxygen, she keeps trying to turn me on to the virtues of girl on girl.”
“But you’re probably as set in your ways as I am, right?” She took an appreciative look at Meredith and nodded to herself. She was a beautiful girl, slender and full ‘in all the right places’ at the same time, great eyes and full lips. She sighed. “I love men, but… they are childish. Have yet to find one who wouldn’t wish to have a Wii-girl instead of a real one. But when I do… God help him.”
Meredith nodded, sipping more of her soda. She couldn’t imagine Cadee would have much trouble holding a guy’s attention, even one with a serious Lara Croft obsession. She was feisty and confident and gorgeous and must have a date for every day of the week. But then most men were too dumb to see the difference between reality and fantasy-
“Oh shit!” she stood up so suddenly she nearly spilt what was left of her soda. Glancing at the clock she began collecting her things, stuffing her notebook into her bag and scarfing down the rest of the chilli fries. “Damn it, sorry, I’m gonna be late for work…”
“No worries. I’m not going anywhere, we’ll probably chat again. Pleasure to meet you, really,” she said, smiling, and this time she was serious. She liked Meredith and she’d do whatever was in her power to help her. She was about to face pretty difficult times.
*I can help her, I must.* She said to herself, and that made her feel a little better.
“Er… sure,” Meredith pulled her sweater back over her head before securing her bag on her shoulder. She wasn’t really used to people being so openly friendly, but Cadee seemed nice enough, at any rate she wasn’t likely to turn psycho on her. “It was nice to meet you too. I’ll see you around… I guess.”
"You bet," Cadee said under her breath, watching her go
20:04 "Carmine's final act"
"Wake up, Carmine! You gotta wake up!" Magda was frantic. She could hear her Momma downstairs in the kitchen.
Carmine laid there like he was dead. He wasn't dead because he was breathing. Magda thanked Jesus that he didn't snore. Her Momma called her again for dinner. She wrote a quick note and put it with his clothes which she left on her desk chair. She quickly cleaned herself and looked in the mirror.
She didn't look any different. She felt sore and stupid for giving Carmine what he wanted. The gemstone sparkled on her dresser and she smiled. He said he'd marry her. She loved him more than anything. He wasn't very bright, but he was hers.
She ran downstairs to her mother and dinner.
2021-05-11 22:39 - Tuesday
"Jesus Christ!"
Carmine was awake now. The sound was like the second coming with banging and screams and the sounds of a fight.
"Mamma, I love him! He's going to marry me!"
You WHORE! You SLUT You gave yourself to that MORON! He's in a gang for Christ's sake! You could have gone to college and been a doctor or a lawyer. Instead you will end up in the street begging for money to feed your God-damned crack babies!"
Carmine figured he'd better not be here when she got around to him.
He pulled on his boxers and had his pants about half-way on when Magda tried to escape into her room. Her momma was hot on her heels. "YOU!" she said with as much acid as Carmine had ever heard.
Magda's Mom had a frying pan in one hand and a pair of bloody panties in the other. Magda only had on a t-shirt and she had several bruises on her arms and back. Magda cowered behind Carmine.
Carmine's Mom hefted the pan as she spoke slowly with a voice raw from screaming, "Carmine Bocelli, you ruined my baby girl. You did something which cannot be undone. You have destroyed her life and I promised that if you did that you would die."
Tears rolled down her momma's face and Magda just whimpered "Momma, Mamma, he loves me Momma" behind him. Carmine wasn't sure if he wanted to fight Magda's mom. He figured that she'd try to come at him with the frying pan so he braced for her to charge.
But she didn't charge. In a move faster than he could follow she hurled the pan. The old wooden handle slid off the pan and the tang rotated 180 degrees and buried itself in Carmine's right eye. He dropped with a slump. Magdalena's mother calmly pulled the pan free and pounded his head several more times in a rage until the blood splatters had covered nearly every spot of pink around the room.
Then she started pounding on her daughter.
Later, she took 30 of her prescription painkillers and drank the last of the wine in the fridge.
22:25 "Ambush!"
2021-05-11 22:25
Slainte
The Ducati’s engine purred to a stop a few blocks away from Slainté. Déjà Vue Logan thought to himself as he kicked up the stand and headed to the doorway. He had been there the night before, but Angus wasn’t, which made delivering Balthazar’s message impossible. The night hadn’t been an entire bust though. He did manage to look like a champ in front of the hot bartender.
He pushed open the door and was welcomed by a cacophony of music, and chatter. Man, this place is busy even on a Tuesday Logan thought, impressed. He lingered at the entrance for a moment, his eyes scanning the room. Sure enough, this time, behind the bar stood a giant of man, with the token red hair. Definitely can’t miss him.
Logan hesitated a second longer, this time looking for someone completely different. A smile crossed his face when he saw Cadee at the other end of the room. He debated going to say hi, but the girl looked to be engrossed in conversation. At least the guy didn't look like a creep this time.
Figuring he could catch her on the way out, Logan once again pulled up a stool at the bar.
"What can I do you for?" Angus' booming voice rang out over the chatter of the crowd.
"Actually, I've got something for you, Angus right?"
"Yes". The barkeeps demeanor changed. A second ago, the big man was warm and jovial but now suspicion crept into his eyes.
"My name's Logan, I work for Balthazar," the young man said, as he reached into his pocket and retrieved the envelop. "He asked me to give you this."
Angus' took the envelop but made no move to open it. "What's this about?"
"No clue. He didn't tell and I didn't ask".
The barkeep was still dubious about the note and the man. Balthazar's reputation was gray at best and up to now, Angus had done a good job avoiding anything to do with him. "Jenna," Angus called, motioning for one of the waitresses to take his place momentarily behind the bar. "You sure this comes from Balthazar?"
"From his hands to mine." As Logan waited for the man to get on with opening the damned thing, he stole a glance back at Cadee. The timing was right and she looked up also, noticing him as well. 'Hi' Logan mouthed, as he flashed a smile.
Finally, Angus' large hands tore open the package and he peeked inside. His stone cold poker face never faltered as he withdrew a small note and read it quietly to himself.
The young man was getting impatient."Anything you want me to tell Balthazar"?
Angus seemed to be contemplating whatever it was Balthazar had written. "Hmmm," he rubbed his beard, still thinking. "Come back next week alright?"
"Come back next week and what?" Logan replied a bit annoyed. He knew what Balthazar was like and if he didn't come back with more info than that, his boss would be taking it out on him.
"You tell him I'll have an answer for him next week". Angus' tone was equally cold.
Logan sighed; something told him it was going to be a long night. "Alright, cool, next week." He didn't bother ordering a drink, instead he looked back to see if Cadee was free. Damn, the guy is going to talk her ear off. Figuring he wasn't going to catch a break, Logan didn't bother waiting around. Gotta come back anyways...
The door barely had time to swing shut behind him before three men followed Logan out. What he hadn't realized is that these men had trailed him into the bar minutes earlier...
22:26 "Helping a Stranger"
2021-05-11 22:26 – Tuesday
Slàinte Pub
Sandoval entered the pub and instantly relaxed. Being here was a relief. He was hours later at work than he wanted to be and he was no closer to catching his werewolf than he had been the day before. He was hoping to meet Alison here later, but all he wanted now was a cold ale and maybe some jalapeno poppers.
He stepped up to the bar and waited his turn. Angus slid up and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Long day?”
“You know it. Tall glass of the Stella? And give me an order of poppers too.”
“Ach! Those awful beasties. The only reason I carry them is because you eat them,” Angus drawled in his thick Scottish brogue, “Why don’t you ever eat anything good for you like some of the leek soup or scotch eggs?”
“For the same reason I don’t eat street hot-dogs and Korean take-out. I don’t know what in it. Poppers I know come frozen from the factory like God intended.”
Angus set his beer on the bar and threw up his hands. He clipped the food order to the overhead bar and rang a bell to alert Cadee. Sandoval enjoyed baiting Angus a little too much. He’d had some of Angus other offerings and loved them. His sandwiches and fish and chips were fantastic lunch alternatives. But poppers reminded him of home.
He slid into a booth with Neumann and Morgan who were talking about some of the chatter around the station. He heard Morgan say “vampire” and cut him off, “You know better than to talk shop out here.”
Morgan looked sheepish for a second and then Neumann started to snicker. “Damn it, Charley, you always give it away!” he said with a playful punch into Neumann’s arm.
“Sorry Pablo, but you are such a hard-ass in the station. These guys that don’t know you like some of us do.”
Morgan looked confused, “What, so we can talk about vamps and stuff?”
Sandoval took a sip of his beer, “Most people’s head is so far up their ass, Kevin, that if you told them to their face that vampires had killed their mother, they’d think you were kidding about it. It means you can say whatever you want.”
Pablo’s face darkened for a second, “But never forget what is real. These monsters are out there and they will kill you as soon as look at you. Our job is to kill them first. ”
The three were silent for a moment as all of them reflected on the darkness they had seen; the evil that filled their lives and for which they had pledged to save the city. Then a plate of jalapeño poppers slid in between them.
“Here you go, detectives, just like my mother used to make them,” Cadee said as she slid the plate of appetizers between the three men. She was well acquainted to them all, since they used to come to Slàinte all the time.
“I didn’t know your mother was a cook, Cadee,” Newmann said, as he took one of the poppers and put it to his mouth.
“My mother was a woman of many talents, Charley,” Cadee replied, laughing. “Cooking was the least of them.”
Then she placed a bowl of a rich reddish mixture next to Sandoval, not noticing that the sleeve of her blouse slid up and showed an ugly looking cut and bruises in the process. “And the cheese and chili dip you like, detective Sandoval. Again, straight from mom’s kitchen to your table.”
"You are too good to me Cadee, unlike your red-headed boss who accuses me of being a philistine when it comes to food." Sandoval held her arm, "Hey, what is that?"
He gave her a concerned look, "I know grip bruises, Cadee. Who's been pushing you around?"
Confused about the remark, Cadee looked down at her own arm. The cut and bruises were actually much better than last night – she had been a little worried about the cut, actually, but finally her super-healing had kicked in – but of course they were still visible, and would be for another day at least. However, since the wounds didn’t hurt anymore, she had been sloppy, even if she had donned a long sleeved blouse to hide them, to no avail. *Damn.*
She retired her arm and quickly pushed the blouse sleeve down. “It’s nothing, detective. I cut when I was cooking and my roommate just pressed it down a little too strongly to stop the bleeding.” She smiled at him. “Nobody pushes me around, promise.”
"You can't cover for abusers, Cadee. You aren't protecting them, you are hurting yourself."
Her look told him all he needed to know, "Okay, I'm overprotective. I get it. But a girl can't be too careful in the city."
“I have to agree with that; but I promise, it’s not what you’re thinking.” Cadee smiled again, she didn’t like being lectured, but she did like detective Sandoval. The man was nice, well-mannered and always polite. And she respected his job; it wasn’t his fault that he made the wrong assumptions, the wounds ‘were’ grip bruises after all, only not the kind he suspected.
Suddenly, she felt observed and raised her eyes. She saw Logan smiling at her from the other side of the room, and she smiled too, happy. But then Sandoval spoke again and she turned back to him.
"I don't get you sometimes, Cadee. You are smart and attractive. You could get a much better paying job at an upscale restaurant downtown or even a receptionist job on Wall Street. Why you work in this hole-in-the-wall is beyond me. I know it isn't for the tips that cops give."
“I guess I just like cops,” she joked, and then sobered up. She knew he meant well, so she tried to answer likewise. “You know, I love cooking, and I’m taking classes. Maybe you’ll find me ‘cheff-ing’ in a fancy restaurant in some years. Hey, maybe it’ll be my own!”
“I’d eat there,” Sandoval said as he watched the stranger leave followed suspiciously by three large men in hoodies. That doesn’t look good, Pablo thought.
“Cadee, excuse me a minute, I think I see trouble.”
Logan had just left Slàinte and was halfway to his bike when he felt the sharp pain in the back of his head.
“Oumph!" With a groan, Logan crumbled to the floor. He tried to struggle back to his feet, but his vision was blurred and his balance wobbly.
"Come on, hurry up".
"He's a lot heavier than he looks."
Logan felt strong hands grab at his arms, dragging him viciously from the street to a nearby ally.
With his eyesight returning, Logan managed to lift his head with great effort. Two men were holding him fast and a third, clutching what looked like a broken off broom handle, walked a few feet ahead, urging them to move faster.
"Who the fuck are you?" Logan coughed out. His head was still swimming.
The man with the stick spun around, driving the weapon into Logan's stomach. All the air exploded from his lungs as he collapsed down to one knee.
The two men released their hold, laughing loudly at the sight of Logan struggling to stand. "You stupid git. Did you think you'd just get away with it?"
Logan finally managed to make it back to both feet, but not before stumbling backwards into a wall which he now used for support. This is when he got the first look at his attackers. At first, they seemed like regular guys in their mid-twenties, but Logan quickly noticed something really off. All their eyes glowed reddish-orange like dark, burning embers. Everything became clear - Kaoshians.
"Yeah, yeah, now you get it, don't you pretty boy," one of them mocked, as he withdrew a switchblade from his pocket. "You stuck one of these right between Bill's eyes and now we're going to return the favor!"
The logical thing to have done was run, but running was not in Logan's vocabulary, even with odds like this. He pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it to the floor so he'd have full mobility and charged forwards. The move was so brazen that it caught the Kaoshians off guard and gave Logan a temporary advantage. He body-checked the one holding the stick to the floor and managed to punch the second before the one with the knife came at him, swinging wildly. Logan barely had time to jump back as the knife came whizzing by, nicking him on his left shoulder.
"Ahh shit," he yelped, blood was already oozing through his white t-shirt. The men clearly weren't trained fighters, but they had weapons and they were a hell of a lot faster and stronger than regular humans.
The knife wielder wasted no time, lunging forward, only to be greeted with Logan's foot in his chest. The Kaoshian flew back, crashing to the floor with the sickening thud.
"Holy Shit! Did you see that?" the empty handed one gasped, amazed at the human's apparent strength.
"Just shut up and get him!"
Ducking beneath a vicious haymaker, Logan retaliated with an uppercut of his own, sending the 2nd demon spiraling to the ground. It was a good hit, but left him open to the one holding the broomstick. Logan cried out as the rod once again collided with his ribs. The pain was intense, enough so to fog his vision for a second time. This was the opening the Kaoshians needed. The one without the weapon, tugged hard on the back of Logan's t-shirt, ripping it in the process. Logan lost his footing and as he fell back, the demon rammed its fist into his lower back.
For the third time, Logan found himself on the ground, battered and bruised.
"You're definitely a scrapper, I’ll give you that," one of the demons said, as he circled the floored human. With a sadistic smile, the Kaoshian lifted his boot and brought it down on Logan's right hand.
"Ahh, fuck!" Logan whimpered, as he rolled onto his back, clutching his broken hand.
By now, all three demons had made it back to their feet and were circling the wounded Logan like a school of sharks. "You had this coming asshole!" one taunted as he spat in in the man's face.
“NYPD! Drop your weapons!“ A voice commanded from the corner of the alley by the bar, “up against the wall, all of you!”
Sandoval had his hand on his sidearm and his badge held high. The three guys were big, but he had backup on its way. He only had to delay them for a few minutes until the cavalry arrived. For now, the guy on the ground would appreciate the distraction.
One of the three pulled off his hoodie exposing his chest. His muscles were toned and as he flexed, red cracks appeared in his skin. Fire burned from his mouth as something ignited within him. Sandoval felt the heat before he smelled burning fabric.
Damn. Kaoshian demons, Sandoval realized. He reacted even as he was thinking it. He pulled and fired a single shot into the heart of the one who was starting to burn. The demon dropped flat on his back, dead. The bullet wound from the 9mm fountained flame like a volcano. His half-transformed body lay still.
Another half-second and he would have been too hot for that to have worked, Sandoval thought, I’m okay as long as none of the others fire up.
“You have no rights in the city, demons,” Sandoval spoke, moving forward towards the man on the ground. “Especially if you threaten humans. If any of you homies want to become an outdoor grill like your buddy, you are welcome to try my patience. ”
The Kaoshian backed up a step – but only one. They didn't drop their weapons. “He don’t smell human to me, pig. He got something on him.”
What is he talking about? Logan thought as he struggled to gather his wits. His hand throbbed, and his chest was killing him, but the cop’s timely intervention had saved his life. I owe you one buddy.
"Yeah, that's right, he ain't your kind!" the other Kaoshian holding the knife added. A smirk crossed the demon's face as he noticed the officer's momentary hesitation. The accusation was enough to put a ripple in Sandoval's concentration which the Kaoshian capitalized on. He charged forwards in a burst of speed, dodging to the right as the cop fired again.
The other Kaoshian, ready to join his friend in battle, had completely forgotten that Logan was lying at his feet. He managed to take only one step before the wounded man's good hand clasped around his ankle, causing him to plummet clumsily to the floor.
"You're a dead man," the demon roared, as he hopped back to his feet only to find that Logan was already up.
The demon took a wild swing, but Logan ducked beneath it, bringing his knee up into the monster's ribs. When the Kaoshian keeled over, the man's knee was waiting again, this time connecting with the bridge of the demon's nose. With a gruesome crunch, the Kaoshian sunk unconsciously to the floor.
A heavy breath escaped Logan's lips as he winced in pain. Two down, but the cop was still tangling with the remaining demon. Time to repay the favor.
Sandoval fired a shot at the charging Kaoshian but it passed through the demon's arm hardly slowing him. Hot breath boiled hitting Sandoval's face and he could feel the heat from his hands as its momentum drove him to the ground. Sandoval rolled back smoothly and grabbed at the Kaoshian's jacket using its momentum to throw the creature into the street and the night-time traffic. Horns blared as the cars screeched to a halt knocking the demon around Centre Street.
Sandoval rolled to his belly and scanned the sidewalk for his gun. The street lit up as the demon in the street ignited in a fireball and grew a full foot in stature and a five-foot long tail sprouted from its spine. Sandoval snatched his gun.
He started shouting at the human defender, "Bike. Get on the bike. Now. Go. Fully ignited Kaoshian demon coming. Run!"
The flaming Kaoshian demon melted a Prius that was in the way as it made deliberate steps through melting asphalt on its way to crush the two men.
More of Pablo's bullets rang out into the night, but with the demon in its true form, they did little to slow him down.
"Fucking pig!" the last Kaoshian bellowed with a now deep and beastly voice.
The distance between the brute and Sandoval was closing fast and it was clear the human wouldn’t have time to dodge the attack. Pablo braced himself for the impact but it never came. Logan, haven taken a running start, threw himself shoulder first into the demon, knocking them both to the ground.
Logan groaned as he fought his way back to his feet. With his shirt ripped from earlier on in the encounter, there was no protection from the heat the demon was emanating. Already the skin on his shoulder and chest was blistering.
Sandoval turned his back to the demon and the stranger and pumped his last 3 rounds into the Kaoshian that was downed in the alley. One less creature to worry about, Pablo thought to himself.
Sandoval ran down the alleyway and to the entrance of Slàinte where Neumann and Morgan were exiting, weapons at the ready. "Over there," Sandoval pointed at the creature in the street, "Don't hit the human."
Sandoval ran inside and grabbed the CO2 fire extinguisher from the wall and jogged back outside.
"Your friends are down and now you're the one outnumbered" Logan said, trying to buy some time.
"One of me is more than enough for a bunch of humans and you." Spinning like a top, the demon whipped its tail at Logan's feet, but the man's reflexes were just too fast. Logan jumped over flaming tail, and managed to kick the demon square in the jaw. The blow was enough to send the Kaoshian stumbling back, giving Sandoval's friends the opportunity they needed. With expert precision, bullets whizzed through the night sky digging deep into the monster's forehead. Four shots later the demon fell to the ground, its fire extinguished.
Seeing that the demon was done with, Logan's adrenaline finally gave out. A soft groan escaped his lips as he fumbled back against the ally wall, unable to stand without its support. He struggled to look up, seeing Sandoval rushing back, fire extinguisher in hand. "Don't think you'll need it," Logan coughed as a mixture of dizziness and pain forced him to one knee.
Sandoval sprayed the car, demon and several other small fires that had started. He shot a couple of blasts onto the stranger to extinguish the embers of his tattered shirt before helping him out of the street. “What’s your name, stranger?” he asked quietly.
“Logan,” he said roughly.
“Thanks for the help Logan, but I have a few questions for you,” Sandoval looked at the man’s injuries and helped him into a booth inside, “But they can wait for a bit.” Outside Neumann and Morgan were dispelling the crowd with tales of a gang of hoods dousing a homeless man in gasoline and setting him on fire.
The situation was contained and no serious injuries. Except for Logan, Sandoval thought, there is something about him. He’s human… mostly. I wonder what he’s caught up in?
22:27 "Rocky way to start a date"
Slàinte Pub
The taxi ride from Greenwich Village to Little Italy was short. It gave Alison just enough time to once again ponder the card that Pablo had given her. Most police departments were clearly labelled – homicide, fraud, narcotics, and so forth. The Special Crimes Unit didn’t mean anything. So what exactly did Pablo’s unit investigate? Her reporter instincts were piqued, but she didn’t want to jeopardise her renewed friendship with Pablo by going behind his back to find out. She’d ask him outright, and see what he told her.
As the taxi neared its destination, traffic crawled to a standstill. When they hadn’t moved at all for a few minutes, Alison checked the street ahead. “Accident?” she asked.
“Looks like,” the driver replied.
Alison realised she was only about half a block from her destination. “I may as well get out here. We’re almost where I was going.” She paid the driver and gave him a generous tip then made her way to the bar, walking past the honking cars caught in the traffic jam. Such things weren’t at all uncommon in Manhattan, and Alison paid the pileup no particular heed as she entered Slàinte.
She glanced around the interior of the bar, hoping to spot Pablo. The place was fairly full, for a Tuesday night, and after years of interviewing police she could tell that many of the tables were occupied by off-duty cops. Even if Pablo hadn't told her that they tended to come here after work, she'd have known it was a cop bar. No cop was ever really completely off-duty, and it lent a certain air to the atmosphere. Sure, everyone was relaxed and looked to be having a good time, but at a moment's notice that could all change.
She didn't see Pablo at the bar, so she ventured further into the room to see if he was at a table. He wasn't at any of the occupied tables, but she did come across a booth with a plate of half-eaten poppers and abandoned beers littering the surface. Ordinarily she'd have figured the people sitting there had left, but there was still a jacket resting on the seat. The whole thing struck her as a bit odd. Usually if more than one person was at a table, they didn't all get up at once. Turning her back on the empty booth, she scanned the crowd once more, looking for Pablo. Maybe he'd just stepped out for a minute, or had gone to the bathroom, or something. She had no reason to believe this booth was where he'd been sitting, though. Or whether he'd even got here yet.
Cadee noticed the woman as she passed by with a tray full with four quesadilla orders, two chicken sandwiches and a hamburger. Damn, the night was turning to be nightmarish; she had to talk Angus into hiring, or she and Jenna would have to grow four hands. However, as she got to her destination and placed the orders, she smiled and chatted lightly to the people. Newcomers, they were.
As she left their table, she saw that the woman was now standing next to the SCU’s abandoned booth. Strange, where the hell could they be? Yet she didn’t linger on that thought, and approached her. She looked familiar, but she didn’t recognize her as a usual customer.
“Hello, is there anything I can do for you? Find you a table?”
Alison jumped a little, startled by the sudden appearance of the waitress. She looked vaguely familiar, but Alison couldn't place her. "Hi. Actually, I was supposed to meet a friend here. You might know him - he said he's a regular. His name's Pablo Sandoval. Juan Pablo," Alison added, recalling that casual acquaintances didn't just call him Pablo and that the waitress might not know him by that name.
Cadee smiled brightly. “Sure I know Pablo, he comes all the time. Actually, he was sitting just here,” she said, signaling the now empty booth. “Still is, I guess… poppers are still hot.”
She took another look at the woman, she did look familiar... and then it hit her. The vampire lady!! Only she didn’t look like her at all, her make up was much subdued and she was wearing jeans and a top, not so much skin exposed. I like her more like this, she thought, and smiled again.
“You’re the author, right? Lucinda Graves? I was at the signing at Barnes & Noble, with my friend Anne.”
"Ah, that's where I've seen you. I thought you looked familiar." Alison racked her brains to dredge up the woman's name. She was sure Anne had told her. "Is it Kate? Katie? I'm sorry, I try to be good with names. And please, call me Alison. Lucinda is my pen name. Tonight I'm just Alison." She smiled warmly at the waitress and glanced back at the booth behind her. "So he was just here? Hmm. He can't be far, then."
“Cadee. And I can quite understand, there’s just one of you, but hundreds of us. I actually like Alison better, if you don’t mind my saying so,” she answered, then she took another look at the booth. “I guess not, Charley’s jacket is still there. Why don’t you sit and wait for him? If I see him around, I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Alison nodded and was about to thank Cadee, when a side door opened with a bang and Pablo rushed in, grabbed a fire extinguisher and ran straight back out again.
“Well, I think I just found him. What’s going on out there?” Alison began to make her way through the room to the door to poke her head out and see what was happening. Several other people were looking that way, some standing up ready to go help if needed. Weaving her way around the tables and stirring patrons, Alison was still only halfway to the side door when it opened again to reveal Pablo helping a young man inside.
22:31 "Evie and Jasmin in the Graveyard"
2021-05-11 22:31 – Tuesday
The Graveyard
She was coming down from her earlier, 4:20 high with Yves when Evalyn decided it was time to head out and hit the night scene.
Dressing was a serious business no matter what the occasion. As Yves lay languidly on the bed, he watched lazily, head wavering on the edge of a nap as his half naked girlfriend slowly pieced her outfit together. Occasionally Evalyn would hold up a dress or two for his judgment, “Noire ou rouge?” but it never mattered what he said. She always knew what she was going to wear – at least that's what Yves figured, concluding the rest was just her ensuring she took the stereotypical time expected of a woman to infuriate her man. He wasn't going anywhere tonight, however, and was able to enjoy the show as she wriggled into her outfit.
As Evalyn finally made her way down 42nd Street, she was wearing a classic, slinky little black dress that flattered her form, 3 inch black stilettos with diamante straps wrapped about her delicate ankles, a well cut beige trench coat that fanned out below its tie cinched at her waist as she walked, a loose knit black beret that sat just back off her fringe line, and a sparkling new choker encircling her throat.
She approached the Graveyard entrance, skipping the line roped off in red velvet, and nodded in acknowledgment to the bouncer, Jake, on duty as she made her way inside.
Evalyn noticed a lot of regulars as she swanned her way through the early crowds, but kept to herself, not pausing for any hellos. She didn't have any planned business today and just made her way to, and up, the nearby stairs to the second level. It was simply another night for casual drinks by the bar and seeing what she could glean off the evening.
The bartender, an attractive man she'd spent many a pleasurable hour with in the past, smiled as he saw her approach. “Mademoiselle Evalyn, will it be your usual then?”
Evalyn's smile was small and chiding as she unhurriedly removed her coat and shook her head. “I 'ave told you before, Sebastian. It is 'Madame', not 'Mademoiselle'.” His smile didn't waver at her lecturing words. Evalyn draped her coat on the back of her chair and took the seat as she continued, smile contorting in a more sinister manner, “If you do not start addressing me appropriately, I will 'ave to become more firm wiz you!”
“It'd be my pleasure,” his smile deepened, but he added “Madame” anyway, according to her request, and received a more generous smile in return. “So what will it be?”
“Surprise me.” Evalyn waved a hand at him, “I am not in the mood to make any more decisions tonight.”
Sebastian bowed his head in acquiesce and stepped away to go about his task.
Evalyn sighed and turned her attention to the surrounding scene, shifting around in her seat so her back was to the bar. She let her smile slip as she allowed herself to drift alone with her thoughts.
Jasmin moved through the crowd tonight with her deft and practiced path, stopping to speak with patrons on occasion. It was good to put in a personal appearance sometimes, she knew, tonight in one of her longer red dresses and corset. As she moved about and stopped, she gave a glance to the bar, catching the familiar face there, and smiled to herself.
Moving behind Evalyn silently, she tapped her on the shoulder, not even giving her a chance to respond when she turned around. Kissing her quickly on both sides of the cheek, her lips as chilly as the room, “Evalyn, good to see you again,” she spoke softly, remembering the times they'd met before. “Thank you so much for that book you found me – it has been a very interesting read, indeed. How are you doing this evening?”
“Jasmin!” Evanlyn's surprise lasted momentarily, and she rose, smiling, to give her friend a warm hug to contrast the kisses, then parted to lightly plant two of her own. “As well as can be. I am glad you enjoyed the book!” Her eyes went distant then and her smile sly as she recalled what she'd done to acquire it. Sometimes stuffy old professors were quite fun. Yves didn't quite share her opinion, but she knew how he enjoyed the company of his “cat-sitter” regularly enough that he couldn't argue.
She tuned her attention back to Jasmin then, “And yourself? You are looking gorgeous as usual.”
“Much better now that I have someone very easy to look at seated in front of me.” She gave a slight smile as the banter went on. Evalyn bore the distinction of being one of the people who she actually, genuinely enjoyed her company. “A bit busy lately. Seriously starting to consider putting out an ad to hire a personal assistant. Business or pleasure tonight?”
“Pleasure, unless interesting business presents itself,” she sighed. Evalyn doubted the business she wanted would, but she'd wait as long as she needed.
Just then, Sebastian returned with her drink, “Here you are Madame,” he pronounced as he set the chilled martini glass on the bar containing a ghostly white substance.
“Oh!” Evalyn exclaimed with pleasure as she reached gracefully for the drink, settling her fingertips curiously at the base of the stem. “What is it?”
Sebastian's teeth sparkled as he grinned ear to ear at the obvious delight in Evalyn's eyes and lowered his voice, “It's a White Spider. Very popular with London-based fashion journalists.” He said, eying her appreciatively for one more lingering moment before turning that winning smile to his employer.
“Would you like anys'ing yourself, Mademoiselle?” Evalyn asked Jasmin as she admired the bartender over her glass and slid it toward herself. He was so genuinely eager to please, perhaps she could convince Jasmin to give him to her. She chuckled softly to herself at the images in her mind.
Qu'est-ce que c'est?
Rien!
Mademoiselle. The address hung there. It always pleased her to hear the other woman call her that. It made her feel young again, and not at all as though she had watched the world change over the course of three generations thus far. The fact that she was still single just made it even easier to accept. “My dear, if I did not know any better, I would think that you wanted to take advantage of me.”
With a quick, dismissive hand to the bartender, she moved to steady herself with a hand on the bar. Why did she love surprises? If anything, after so long, she came to value routine and consistency. “Would you like to go somewhere more private to talk?”
“M-but of course!” Evalyn exclaimed, gently rising from her seat and lifting her coat off the back.
“Would you be a gentleman and take care of my apparel?” She turned to ask Sebastian. He grinned and, naturally, walked readily around the bar to take her coat with a gracious bow. Evalyn chuckled again. Yes, she'd definitely have to ask Jasmin if she could have an early birthday present. As he rose, she honeyed her tone, “Merci, Monsieur,” and blew him a kiss from her fingers now freed of the coat.
Picking up her White Spider, Evalyn turned back to Jasmin with a conspiratorial smile. “Once again, I must admit, you do employ ze finest specimens.”
Jasmin chuckled a bit, leading her across the floor, holding open the door to her office. The interior was designed in a Victorian manner, with mahogany furniture throughout; immediately behind her desk, with computer sat on it, in the center of the wall hung a Chinese broadsword. One wall held her liquor cabinet, with personal stock; while another was a bookcase with several of her own books in there, dominated by binders. Two posh chairs sat in front of the desk, with another behind. Jasmin took one of the seats in front of the desk as they came in, crossing one leg over the other.
“Always charming,” she said as Evalyn shut the door behind her. “And looking for business. With my evil self, I hope?”
“Always anys'ing for you, ma chère.” Evalyn answered with a warm smile as she let her gaze wonder over Jasmin's office. It lingered on the Orb of Thessala, as it always did. That particular acquisition of Jasmin's always amused her no end, and had she the mind, she'd inform her friend of what she possessed. But she never did. Would be too much of a good joke spoiled.
Smile deepening, her gaze continued until it fell on the Chinese broadsword where she paused a moment to appraise it.
Evalyn was trying to guess the age of the old artifact as she drew up the chair opposite her friend and settled back with a satisfied sigh, crossing her legs. “Is zat new?” She asked once comfortable, gesturing absently towards the sword with her drink before taking a sip.
What was so fascinating about her paperweight, Jasmin wondered? She wasn't about to ask; knowing her, it was just the other woman admiring pretty things, as she always did. “Yes, actually. Worked my way up to that and Snake. Get to do the exam at the start of next month to see if Sifu will pass me.” And it only took her most of the time practicing to advance that far.
“Félicitations!” Evalyn said raising her glass to her friend, then chuckled, “And 'ere I was for a second s'inking you 'ad cheated on me wiz anozzer.” She winked, then glanced curiously back at the sword, “Myself, I 'ave no idea 'ow to use a sword. Je préfère mes couteaux.” She grinned and, in her free hand that had been casually resting in her lap, a knife suddenly flashed into existence, throwing the light of Jasmin's desk lamp in all directions as it spun effortlessly in Evalyn's fingers. Then as quick as that it was gone again.
“Believe me, Evalyn, my dear – should I ever meet someone that I can love from the evilness of my heart, you will be the first to be introduced to her.” She folded her hands lightly, looking over to her. It was the nice thing of her being one of the few to know what she was. She could be more herself. “Anything I can help you with business wise?”
Evalyn cocked her head in thought, her foot bouncing lightly in the air, “Ozzer zan ze usual – a lead on zat murder back at the Standard in LA...?” she paused, letting her words trail off as she glanced back at Jasmin. She saw what passed for an apologetic look briefly cross the vampire's face and suppressed a sigh. She hadn't expected any news of the kind. It seemed less and less likely that she ever would get it! But still, she had to ask. If anyone could catch word, it'd be Jasmin.
“Zen no,” she resumed her smile, “I am just enjoying a night out wiz a beautiful friend.” Evalyn said and took a sip from her drink, allowing her bouncing foot to slow and lightly brush Jasmin's leg. “Iz zere anys'ing I can do for you, per'aps? Business wise, of course.” She grinned, lowering her glass.
“Not unless you can recommend a good personal assistant for me,” she answered evenly, eyes dropping to her foot for a moment. The flirting was always enjoyable, leading her to only conclude that Evalyn was a very strange woman indeed. “Otherwise? Just the company of a friend will be nice. Keep me from getting bored.”
“Alors, I do not know about a good personal assistant, but I s'ink I can 'elp wiz ze bordom,” Evalyn said and rose from her chair to place her drink on Jasmin's desk, ensuring there was a coaster beneath it before she set it down on the rich mahogony surface. “I brought some exquisite 'erbs wiz me,” She turned a sly smile back to Jasmin, “Can I fix you a Bloody Mary?” Without waiting for an answer she manouvered her way around the chair and made her way to Jasmin's liquor cabinet. “Where do you keep your finest stock?”
“The fridge a little to your left,” Evalyn twisted around to see where Jasmin was pointing at one of the paneled doors.
“Ah,” Evalyn exclaimed and bent forward from the waist to open the door and retrieve the vital ingredients. She then proceeded to make Jasmin's drink, sprinkling the tiniest bit of her special herbs into the mix and making sure it was thoroughly blended in. The stuff was of a pretty potent strain and she didn't want her friend to catch it all in one unfortunate hit. Although, she admitted to herself, it wouldn't be the end of the world and might prove quite amusing.
With the final flourish of a celery stick added, Evalyn carried the drink back to her friend, hips swaying as she walked, “Bon appétit!”
Jasmin's eyes fixed on her momentarily, raising the drink in a mock salute. “You are, as always, a charmer. Reminds me of the wrap party for King Arthur, except without the car crash.” She lifted the blood drink and tried it, closing her eyes and starting to feel very, very relaxed. “Is this what feeling high is like?”
Evalyn chuckled at the naivety of her friend as she picked up her own glass again. It was hard to imagine that, being as old as she was and having all she'd experienced in life and afterlife, she'd never experienced such a small and simple thing as a little weed. “Give it a bit longer, zen you'll see. It is a bit more powerful consumed straight up, but I 'ardly s'ink in'aling it will work so well for you.”
She watched a little longer, curiosity pulling the corner of her lips into a slightly warped smile to see how it'd effect her vampire friend. Initially she was unsure if it'd work at all, but as Jasmin started to slip a little further into her chair with a different kind of smile slowly spreading on her face, Evalyn grinned a little deeper. “Careful, or I s'ink you might be on ze floor soon,” She chuckled as Jasmin giggled in response. Yes, it'd appear the mixed drink was quite effective.
Suddenly Evalyn wished she could have her pipe in hand so she could join, but settled for her drink instead which was exceedingly good and quite powerful in its own right! Sebastian must have put something extra of his own in to spice it up a bit. Evalyn took another long draft, near finishing the remainder of its contents.
Jasmin looked at her evenly and had noticed the look of consternation that had passed across Evalyn's face before she'd eagerly downed her cocktail. “No smoking in here, dear. We can't cover that up here. Have to use the terrace of the apartment.” She drank down some more of her bloody mary, and then made a quick decision. Last night's `me time` got ruined. She wound up working all night and having a hell day. Tonight would be better. “Do you want to actually see my apartment?”
Evalyn's head perked up. Check out Jasmin's apartment? Could be fun. She'd never seen where the vampire actually lived. She'd often wondered in the past if Jasmin had a pimped out crypt somewhere like other vampires she'd heard of. “Where do you live?” She asked.
“I have a penthouse apartment in Soho.”
Evalyn raised her eyebrows and suddenly wondered why she should be so shocked. Jasmin did, after all, appreciate the finer things in life nearly as much as Evalyn.
Her decision was made, and raising her glass to the rest of the night, she toasted. “Sounds delightful!”
22:38 "The date, proper"
2021-05-11 22:38 - Tuesday
Slainte
The booth Sandoval left him in was plush and comfortable, allowing Logan a second of respite before he noticed the commotion that was growing in the bar. Ah, crap. The frightening sound of gunfire had caused half the patrons to flee the area, while those who stayed were now gawking and glaring like they were on the set of some Hollywood action film. The cops were scrambling to defuse the situation, offering up bogus explanations to anyone who may have caught a glimpse of the Kaoshians.
"Oh my god." Cadee broke through the crowd, pushing her way towards Logan. The remnants of his tattered shirt was soaked in blood, burn marks covered his exposed chest and shoulder and the way he was holding one of his hands did not look good.
"You know, it seems every time we run into each other, I'm getting into trouble. I'm beginning to think you're a bad luck charm." He tried to force a smile, but his weary eyes spoke volumes.
“You can call me Jinx..."Cadee scanned his wounds quickly and tried to smile. Not good, not good at all. “Damn, boy, what happened to you?” Without waiting for his response, she turned around and shooed away the patrons gathering around Logan’s booth.
“Show’s over, fellas, let’s give the man here some oxygen. ” She searched and found Angus with her eyes, and sent him a silent question. At his nod, she added. “Free drinks at the bar, for your inconvenience. You better hurry before Angus’ generosity runs out. ”
Pablo stepped to the side to let Cadee in. She seemed to know some first aid and he was still coming off the stress of the fight outside. He glanced back to his table where he knew he had a beer waiting and saw Alison making her way towards them. Pablo straightened his shirt and wiped his face with Cadee's towel before standing to go and meet her.
People moved away from the table: some to collect their free drinks, some heading outside to check on the commotion first-hand. Cadee slid into the booth next to Logan. He was resting on the back of the seat and had closed his eyes, his breathing quick, but steady. She looked at his scrapes and cuts, but focused on his burns. “What happened, Logan, did you stumble into a grill or something?” she asked.
A slight chuckle turned into a cough, which had Logan wincing. What was he supposed to tell Cadee: there was a brawl outside the bar with a bunch of demons? When he had been introduced to the supernatural truths, Balthazar made it clear that it's not a topic to discuss with anyone outside of 'the know'. The pretty little blonde waitress was most definitely not in 'the know'.
"Some gangsters lit this homeless guy on fire," Logan finally lied, having overheard a bit of the cop’s story. "And what kind of guy would I be if I only came to the rescue of attractive, blonde bartender types?"
Cadee giggled, as she wiped the blood from Logan's chest. She knew better than to believe Logan’s lie about a homeless bum set on fire, but at the moment she was at a loss, and she wasn’t about to ask and blow her cover. You’ve got to be a liar to spot another, she said to herself. Never mind, she’d find the truth soon enough.
“A very bad guy indeed. Not at all like you, right?” Then she got serious again. She looked for Sandoval with her eyes; maybe he had other plans, but saw that he was engaged in conversation with the vampire lady. “Do you want me to call anybody? 911, perhaps? Somebody should take a look at those burns…”
Pablo stood awkwardly in front of Alison. Hug, kiss, what’s appropriate?
"Sorry for the excitement. It's the city. Always on duty. I'm glad to see you, though."
"Excitement is right." Oblivious to his indecision, Alison peered over Pablo's shoulder at the man in the booth. Cadee had got there first and was already tending to him. "What happened out there? I ran into a traffic jam on the way here - I presume that had to do with whatever this was about. I think your buddy there needs an ambulance."
"One of the horrors of the city. A homeless man set on fire by hoods. He ran into the street and set a car on fire. Needless to say, it caused a traffic issue. The guy in the booth is a bystander who rushed in to help." Pablo looked over his shoulder, "It's rare to find a person who will risk himself for a stranger."
He glanced back to Alison, "There are two of the men from my department out there dealing with it. It’s under control. I didn't want to miss you."
Alison quirked an eyebrow. “Wow. You have changed. I remember you standing me up more than once because duty called.” She smiled to take the sting out of those words. “Not that I minded, really. I understood. Like now. If you need to deal with this, we can take a rain check.” Once upon a time she’d have been horrified to hear about someone being set on fire. After living in New York for several years, she’d become somewhat inured to such things.
"Back then, I was trying to make a name for myself. I was a rookie cop with a chip on my shoulder and something to prove. Nowadays, I’m more confident in my career. People respect me and my position. I can afford to give some time to... other concerns. And maybe it’s about time I did." Impulsively he leaned in and kissed her.
It only took Alison a microsecond to get over her surprise and to respond to Pablo’s kiss. It was familiar, comfortable, and it didn’t particularly carry any overtones beyond that of old friends meeting each other after many years apart. But it was nice. He tasted of beer and jalapenos – sort of nutty and spicy, and it made Alison feel safe.
“It’s good to see you again, too,” she murmured. “Now, let’s get this poor man seen to. I think Cadee’s running out of towels to mop up his blood.”
Cadee was trying to clean an ugly cut in Logan’s arm without actually worsening things, when Logan finally answered. “No. No 911.” He could understand her concern, but Balthazar wouldn’t like to be oiling the path out of a 911 situation. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be good as new.”
She stopped her ministrations and frowned at him. “No way you’re leaving here like this. Either you tell me who to call or I’ll take you to a hospital myself. Or tell the detective right there that you’re being stubborn.”
Logan made a face but acquiesced. “Just let me call my boss,” he said, taking a cell phone from a clip in his belt. “He’ll send someone.”
An EMT walked into the bar and looked around. Pablo spotted him and waved. "Excuse me, Alison. Just some wrapping-up to do. I promise I’ll be right back."
Pablo showed the EMT his badge and handed him a card, "Listen carefully, take those dead and charred carcasses to this address. Tell them 'Code Seventy-Seven' and they will take it from there. Don't worry about anything strange you see, it isn't your problem. And while you’re here..." Pablo looked over at Logan who glared at Pablo. He didn't want to be seen. He also wasn't going to get better.
Pablo decided to stick his neck out for him. He'd saved Pablo's life after all. "Take care of this guy but don't put it in your log. If you need to put a name, put mine. It's on the card. I take full responsibility."
Cadee relaxed when she saw the EMT head their way, even if she saw Logan didn’t like it a bit. But, what the hell, he needed medical attention. She got up and left space for the technician to work.
“Well, I leave you in good hands, Logan. I have to go or Angus will have my head.” She smiled at him before leaving. “Let’s hope our next encounter doesn’t include a fight, ok?”
He smiled at her, but immediately gritted his teeth as the EMT started to work on him. "Third time's a charm right?"
Pablo slid in to the booth that Cadee had vacated. "Logan, I owe you so if you need help, just let me know. And don't worry about this," he said indicating the EMT. "It’s off the record."
He slid a card cross the table. "You have my number; I’ve got to go."
Alison caught Cadee's eye before she headed back to her job. She figured she’d get more information out of the waitress than from Pablo. "Is it always this... eventful in here?" She indicated the burned man in the booth. "Who is he? You seemed to know him."
“What can I say; it’s a cop bar.” Cadee laughed, then she looked again at Logan, who was now talking to Pablo, the phone forgotten in his hand. “Actually, no. He just helped me with a bothersome drunk last night, and we sort of connected. And now this… I guess he’s a Good Samaritan type.” She winked at Alison, “And I like him.”
Alison's gaze slid from the burned man to Pablo, who was already rising from the booth. "Yeah," she replied wistfully. "You should hang on to the ones you like."
She shook herself and looked back at Cadee. "Well, I shouldn't keep you from your work. It was good to meet you again. And who knows, you may see more of me here, if all goes well." She could feel Pablo stepping into place beside her so she said no more but merely smiled at Cadee.
"That'd be great," Cadee answered, smiling. She looked at Pablo who was approaching them, and realized what she meant. Niiiice. "Good luck with that."
22:50 "After Hours"
Slàinte Pub
Alison turned to face Pablo, who came up beside her as Cadee left to return to her work. She smiled at him abashedly and said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to abuse my position now. This isn’t my usual thing anymore, but there’s a story out there.”
Pablo's brow knitted. He had sort of forgotten this aspect of her personality. The newshound. Keeping the secrets of the SCU right after he was recruited to the unit had contributed to them drifting apart.
"I suppose if I’m going to play cop on our dates I have to expect you to play reporter."
"'Fraid so. A good reporter's never off-duty either." She leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. "I promise I'll only be a few minutes, I just want to get some snaps. Can I tell your cop buddies out there that you've given me an exclusive?"
"I suppose," he said reluctantly. He was certain that they'd give the cover story that they had hastily thrown together. Anything vague or suspicious would be covered by 'that information is pending the investigation'.
"Just hurry back, I'd hate to ruin a date on account of work, for either of us."
“Definitely. If you want to finish off your poppers, I’ll be back before you know it.” She grinned at him and left him to find his own way back to his original table. Heading to the side door to get her pictures, she realised there was still activity nearby.
“No, I’m not going to hospital!”
It was the injured man in the booth who was talking. Alison could see that the EMT had more or less finished ministering first aid and was now speaking to someone on his radio – presumably with the ambulance outside. Seeing the merest of opportunities, Alison slid into the seat opposite the man while the EMT was busy conferring with his colleagues. Fishing around in her purse, she pulled out her digital recorder and set it on the table in front of her.
“Hi,” she said, sliding one of her business cards across to the man. “I’m Alison Scruggs, reporter. The Detective over there says you’re a hero. Would you mind talking to me about what happened? Just a brief statement will be fine.”
Logan gritted his teeth as the pain in his shoulder flared up. Ah shit. He could just imagine how mad Romano would be if it came out that Logan was somehow attached to this debacle. Low profile was one of his boss's major mantras.
"I'm not a hero," he finally said, trying to play up the pain so that maybe the reporter would leave him alone. "There was a guy in trouble and I did what I could to help him out, that's all really.” Keep it simple, he thought. Give her one little comment and maybe she wouldn’t fish around for more info.
Hmm. It was one of these non-talkative types. It wasn’t surprising, given his reluctance for medical treatment. Clearly this man had secrets of his own – but she wasn’t interested in those right now. She pushed gently. “A guy in trouble? I heard he was on fire. Did you see what happened?”
"It really happened pretty fast," he said, trying to come up quickly with some sort of story that would appease her appetite and stop any follow up questions. "I was coming out of here; saw these punks picking on some homeless guy. By the time I got there, the guy was up in flames and the punks jumped me."
"Wow. Most people in New York would just look the other way, you know. So what happened next?" Having already got Pablo’s side of the story, she knew there was more to it, and wanted to see how closely this man’s account matched Pablo’s.
"Then I did my best to try and fight the punks off and get the guy to drop and roll. I wasn't able to get to him in time, but I did manage to knock out a couple of the guys before the cops came out to help. They opened fire and it was all over. I was pretty banged up though...like I said, it's a bit of a blur."
"Well, you did far more than most people would. May I have your name for the story?" She saw the frown begin to crease his forehead before she'd even finished asking, and she couldn't say she was surprised. He'd already tried to refuse the EMT and had refused a trip to the hospital. "I won't publish it if you don't want me to," she added quickly, trying to allay his fears.
He sighed, relieved that she wasn't going to push it more than that. "My name's Logan... off the record."
"Off the record," she confirmed. "If you're not going to the hospital, you probably ought to get home and rest soon. Thanks for your time, Logan."
There was no way he’d agree to having his photo taken, she knew, so she didn’t even bother to ask. Instead, she slipped out the nearby side door that Pablo had used to bring Logan inside, and surveyed the alleyway where it seemed the bulk of the action had taken place. A couple of detectives were already on the scene – presumably Pablo’s drinking buddies, but they were busy directing EMT’s who were just zipping up a body bag. Knowing she had scant moments to get a candid shot, she held up her iPhone and grabbed a series of snaps of the alleyway, then zoomed in on the pair of body bags lying on the ground.
In the street beyond, she could make out the smouldering wreckage of a car, and tried to edge a bit closer to get a better angle on it.
“Hey!”
She turned her head, her press pass already in hand. She lifted it up to show the advancing cop. “Hello, Detective. Alison Scruggs. I was just trying to get a couple of photos. I happened to be in the bar waiting for my old friend, Pablo Sandoval, when all this happened. He just gave me an exclusive on the story.” She smiled sweetly at the Detective. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, so she hazarded a guess. “You must be Charley, I suppose.”
He’d looked just about ready to order her back inside regardless of her story, but when she knew his name, he hesitated. “Look, you really shouldn’t be here,” he said sternly.
“This is an active crime scene. But since you’re Pablo’s friend, I’ll escort you up a little ways. But then you’re going right back inside, okay?”
“That’s fine. Thanks, I appreciate it.”
She got some good photos of the Prius and the attendant pileup, took photos of the Detectives, the EMTs and even sneaked in another shot or two of the body bags as they were loaded into the back of an ambulance. She made sure to get everyone’s name and chatted with Charley, getting yet another angle on the story. He spun the same line about a group of guys attacking some homeless man. Finally she flashed a smile at her escort.
“That’s it. I’ll get back out of your hair. Thank you so much, Charley.”
Back inside Slàinte, she pocketed her iPhone and recorder, and peered around looking for Pablo. He was back in his original booth, polishing off the jalapeno poppers. She joined him, sitting opposite him, and pushed a half-drunk beer out of her way. “They’re just about done out there. The bodies were being loaded into the ambulance when I left. Thanks for indulging me. It’s been a while since I did a crime scene like this, but I was right here…” She shrugged. “I couldn’t pass it up.”
"I wish I'd passed up the poppers. Blecch...they’re sitting kind of heavy."
She laughed at his stupid joke and in that moment he remembered what it was that had made him go to all this trouble to reconnect. He missed her, he realized. He'd dated a few women in the last seven years but they'd been short come-and-go relationships. They fit together in their lives but not their jobs. He held hope that time had changed that.
"So what would you like to do from here?"
"Well..." Alison gazed around the pub, seeing the red and blue flashes from outside reflecting off the mirrors behind the bar. "I'm easy. It's okay here, but I'd understand if you want to go somewhere else, all things considered. Hell, they may ask you to fill out paperwork or something. We can't be having that."
She picked up one of the poppers off the plate. They were starting to cool, but were still warm enough. Biting down on it, she grinned at Pablo. "Do you know, I don't think I've eaten one of these since... well, since we used to go out."
No guts, no glory, Sandoval thought. "We could take a cab back to my place in East Harlem." He let the suggestion hang for only a second before taking the hand she'd been
casually wiping on a napkin.
Alison raised an eyebrow. “Oh, Mr. Keen, are we?” she said lightly.
He replied offhandedly, "No pressure. Just two friends. Coffee. I might even have something on the video we could watch. Or...if it's too late, I'll gallantly see that you get home first."
"You know, my place is a lot closer than East Harlem. I'm just in Greenwich Village. And I have coffee."
"That makes the gallant part easy," he said, tossing some cash on the table. "Let's go. Cab or walk?"
2021-05-11 23:20 – Tuesday
Greenwich Village
Alison kicked off her shoes in the kitchen and padded over her hardwood floors to where Pablo sat at the dining table by the picture window. The view from the penthouse loft was impressive, especially at night. She handed a steaming cup of coffee to him and stood for a moment, staring out the window.
"I never get sick of this view. New York at night looks like someone's gone mad with Christmas lights. It's so beautiful."
She pulled out a chair and sat, resting her cup on a coaster to let it cool a little. It was just a trifle too hot to drink yet. "I owe this all to Lucinda Graves. That, and people's insatiable appetite for a good vampire story."
"Vampires and insatiable appetites go together well," he said cryptically. "From up here you might think everything was normal. But don't let this cynical cop ruin it for you."
He dragged his eyes away from the vista, and concentrated on Alison. "How much of Alison is Lucinda?"
Alison pondered that one for a moment. "It's hard to say. When I'm writing, I'm probably as much like her as I'll ever be. I let my imagination run wild and despite all the horrible things I put my heroine through I almost envy her the exciting life she leads. When I'm out in public as the author of the Darque series, though, it can be hard to keep up that sexy façade." She shrugged. "It feels pretentious a lot of the time, but it's the image we've cultivated and it seems to sell books."
"You don't have to put on sexy, it is part of who you are," he grinned at her. "Seductorisima."
She felt a slight blush creep up her neck and she glanced down at her coffee. Deciding it was cool enough to drink she picked it up and sipped at it, using the time to get herself under control. She discarded half a dozen flip lines to use in reply and settled instead for changing the subject.
"So what about you? Being a hard-boiled New York cop can't be easy.”
She figured she might as well just take the plunge and ask the question that was uppermost in her mind – the reporter part of her, at least. She wasn’t willing to listen to the other part of her just yet. “What sort of cases do you have to deal with, anyway? Your card said Special Crimes - but that could mean anything."
Where did that come from? Damn her reporter instincts. "You know how if a criminal commits a crime over state lines it goes to the FBI? Or if they threaten national security they go to Homeland Security? Or when it is a matter of diplomats and foreign powers the CIA takes the case? We make that determination. We act a central liaison between federal agencies and the NYPD. Our unit was formed just after 9-11 to deal with coordinating the New York enforcement agencies FDNY, NYPD, Border Patrol, Subways systems and City Hall with the US Government. New York does so much that it needs someone to figure out who to call when it goes over our heads."
Wow, write that down, it almost sounded plausible! he thought.
Alison blinked. Wow, he's good. That almost sounded plausible.
She toyed absently with her coffee cup, her eyes fixed on Pablo's face. The signs were subtle, but she was sure he wasn't telling her everything. "Uh huh," she said noncommittally. "So... what was Code 77? And why would the EMT see something strange? I get the feeling those weren't just regular thugs."
His expression hardened ever so slightly, and she grimaced. "Look, I know you've probably got sensitive material you have to deal with. And you think I'm just being a nosy reporter type. And, well, to an extent I am. But I'm happy to write a story about a homeless guy being attacked by hoods. I just want to know, for myself, what sort of work are you really involved in? If we're... I mean, if this... you and me meeting up again like this, if it's what it feels like, then I want to know."
Pablo sat quietly for a long moment.
Look at the time; I've kept you up too late, already.
He looked into her eyes and at her face and the soft curls of her hair on her shoulder and remembered what it smelled like in the cab.
I'm sorry, that's classified. I'm sure you'll understand.
He watched the steam from her coffee curling past her face and realized she was holding her breath.
We have just built this bridge, Alison, do you want to burn it so soon?
"Alison, if I tell you: am I telling you...or the reporter in you?"
Damn you for an idiot, Alison Patricia Scruggs, she berated herself. She let out her breath slowly, her lungs beginning to burn from holding it for that interminable pause while she watched an entire world of possibilities hang by a thread.
She reached over and laid her hand on his where it rested on the table. "You know what?
As long as you have to ask that question, I don't need to know that badly. Please, just tell me that you're not doing anything that's going to put you in danger. Well, no more than any cop does, that is."
"The mission is to enforce the laws, preserve the peace, reduce fear, and provide for a safe environment," he said soberly. "But there are ... obligations that come with that mission that I can't really talk about with you. Not right now anyways. It's good work though, Alison, just like it always has been."
"I don't doubt that for a second, not with you."
"I never thought you did. But part of my mission includes secrets. For what it's worth, a 'Code 77' isn't my secret; it belongs to a federal agency. It’s a pre-arranged message. It means 'I'll be in later to sign the paperwork.' Really."
"Sure it is," Alison rejoindered with a sly grin, lightening her tone to turn it into more of a joke. "Ooh, I know. You're Mulder and you're looking for aliens."
He stared at her for a beat, "That's a science fiction reference, isn't it? Sorry, I never got into it much. Just hopeless, I guess. I don't suppose your appreciation for modern art has improved either, has it?"
Alison shook her head. "Nope. I may have to tie you down and force you to watch Firefly in return for you dragging me to a gallery."
He stood up and walked over to hold her shoulders, "I want to try again. We have to remember who we are and discover who we've become. It isn't like starting over, it's like..." He glanced at his watch. "It’s like midnight. It's tomorrow already. Time to start a new day."