Danger
We get back to Port Angeles by dusk. I'm tired of riding in the car, and weirdly numb. My father is quiet, he turns on the radio at my request, though he doesn't know any of the songs anymore than I do.
"We're going to meet my brothers. My youngest brother, Vincent he's going to help us with something, probably," he mutters.
"Doesn't he work at the school?" I ask. I think I remember him as a part of Freddy's very rapid orientation.
"Yeah. He's a literature teacher but —he was in med school. He dropped out and joined the Hunt. His wife, she got hurt bad, on the Hunt, he doesn't Hunt anymore. She's in a coma, that's why we're going to the hospital, he'll be there by now."
"That's sad," I say, softly.
"Yeah, it's bad."
He parks us on a fire lane, which I don't think is where we're intended to park. But I'm not about to give my unsolicited opinion.
Outside the hospital stands a man, with longish, dark hair. He looks nothing like my father. I recognize him from the school, he spoke to Freddy a little, just glanced at me. He seemed nice enough, though. At the moment he looks cross with his brother.
"Can you look through these for me? See if it's healthy or not? It's what his mom had him doing," my father says, handing my charts over.
"What? You think because I went to med school I automatically know what is or isn't healthy for a what twelve year old?"
"I'm fourteen."
"He's fourteen. And yes, yes I do think that. Come on, please?" My father sighs, "Please, Vince?"
"All right. I'll get it back to you," he stuffs it in his pocket.
"My mom might want those," I say.
"Yeah ah—yeah I'll get 'em back. Whatever. You coming in or anything?" He shrugs, frowning.
"No, sorry. I'll come Friday all right? I've got a lot back at the house, going on right now, actually," my father shrugs.
"Doesn't matter," he turns to walk away.
"It matters, Vince," my father sighs.
Vincent makes a rude gesture.
"Whatever, get in the car," my father says, shaking his head, "Don't mind him he's not—he's not cross with you, his in laws want him to pull the plug. He refuses. Spends every single night there, reading to her, talking to her."
"That's sad," I say, getting in the truck. I'm getting better at it now, I've got the hang of the seatbelt.
"Yeah it is," he says, turning on the windshield wipers. It's raining again. Maybe we'll go home and I can stand out in a while?
"Are we going home?" I ask.
Jason
"Not yet, no, we need to drop that laptop off, which means that you get to meet the smartest person on the planet, and also maybe my other brother," I say, glancing over at the kid.
"He's the one who teaches gym."
"I'm so so sorry but consider I grew up with him."
"He made us do pushups for like existing."
"Yeah that's him, ah, he's not so bad but his theory of parenting was a tired kid is a kid who can't burn the house down or escape."
"He raised you?" He frowns "What about your parents?"
"Oh yeah um. My mom, didn't want me and Jewel so much, when she found out our dad was cheating on her. Sort of complicated situation short, ah. Jack's oldest, good bit older than us, so he figured out that his dad had two other families going. My mom didn't want us, really, after that not with Jewel being a warlock. So, Jack took us in, not much later, we find out about Vincent. His mother lost custody, due to drugs, so Jack took him in too. He's not known other parents, I did, a little, like, our dad got us back now and then but primarily it was, yeah," I say, shaking my head, "It was just us for a while. He met Q on a hunt, Q's his husband, for whatever reason he ah accepted the whole pack of us."
"Q?"
"Yeah, that's what we call him, it's not his name but it's all we call him, from, you haven't watched those movies, it's from a movie," yeah I didn't know that for a really long time. As in until they actually legally got married like five or six years ago now, I fully believed his name was Q. Turns out. No it is not. It's something stupid and British I don't know what the fuck but it doesn't even begin with Q. Turns out, my moron brother met this too smart for his own good British kid, who was talking a mile a minute in that damn accent, and fixing his weapons and helping build incendiaries. And just started calling him Q. And for whatever reason, Q was like 'oh these Americans are idiots the one letter is probably all they can handle I'll leave that, poor creatures'. I'm sure the kids don't know. I don't even know properly what his name is I heard it, went it shock, and just retained the information that yeah that was what happened.
"What movie?" Danger asks.
"Have you—watched any movies?" I ask.
"I've seen Jaws."
"Your mom let you watch Jaws?"
"Now, I really didn't say that."
"Huh, good for you," I say.
"I was mad. She didn't come back for Christmas to pop popcorn so I ate a ton of food and downloaded a movie illegally," Danger says, nodding.
"Ah. Okay it's from the James Bond movies, and books."
"I see commercials for those on cable. I think. During Jeopardy."
"Maybe, we'll—you know what we're already feeding you and letting you wear something other than primary colors, we'll watch those anyway. It'll be good for you, Freddy hasn't seen Skyfall yet," I say.
"What's that?"
"One of the movies, don't worry we won't watch in order and several people will explain the characters to you at the same time."
"Okay," Danger nods, seriously.
"It'll be fun," I say, encouragingly. Poor child. Someone should watch TV with him. I used to watch all the Bond movies with Dashiell. I made a point of watching it in release order, when he was like fifteen and then every week for a year or something. It took us forever. But he enjoyed it.
We pull up to the house. Danger looks curiously up at the circular, heavily modified, cabin, with floor to ceiling windows. Several little dogs run in the yard, yipping. I did text Q we were coming.
"It's us," I call, knocking on the door.
"Productive day?" Jack gets the door, half in his button up shirt from school, not cleanly shaven. His eyes flick to Danger immediately, clearly weighing if this could be my kid or not.
"Ish, I've got a favor to ask your brain, where is he?" I ask.
"Living room, you missed school today, kid," Jack says.
"I was helping back up the house, I'll make it up tomorrow," Danger says.
"Don't offer that, no," I say.
"Sure you will. Come on, anyone given you a knife yet?"
"Just one."
"Come with me," Jack says, patting the boy's shoulder. Danger follows him willingly.
"Just no incendiaries," I say, dryly. Wouldn't be the first or third time he gave one of my kids some highly flammable device.
"He'll be fine," Jack says, "Come and see the garage. Need to get you some weapons for when the monsters start coming."
"Please don't," I mutter, going on to the living room.
In the living room, Q is seated on the sofa, laptop on his lap, another one on the ottoman, about four dogs lying with him.
"Hey," I say, coming over to sit down on the edge of the love seat.
"DNA tests came," Q says.
"I thought those were coming to my house?" I ask.
"They were. But the United States Postal Service informed me that you have not had a functioning mailbox since 2016," Q says, glaring at me through silver bangs, he puts a hand through his hair.
"Oh—wait I thought I fixed that—,"
"You did not."
"But I get mail—,"
"Your tax bill, electricity, and the kid's school things all come here."
"Then how does it get in my house?"
"I hand it to your brother, tell him to give it to you and suggest you get a mailbox, and he takes it there and apparently just sets it on the table. A lovely completely idiotic system I personally believe we should simplify by you actually functioning as a member of society and you and your lovely four working limbs and your three boys and their four lovely working limbs each— put up the mail box," Q says.
"Message received," I am going to be honest I'm never going to do that. Like I'm not gonna get to it. I have too much going on right now. "Sorry. And thanks."
"Here, it's rapid I thought you'd like that. We'll get the results in one to two days," he says, handing me the box.
I turn the sleek package over in my hands. A picture of a smiling mother and infant on it. Like, how do they think this is happy occasion? There is no happy need to get this test. I never once looked at my newborn son or daughter and thought now, time to do a scientific test that proves what I already know, that doesn't happen. Nobody does that. This is the stuff of custody battles.
I try to rip open the one side. It doesn't come. The box is all glued shut. I turn it over again looking for a notch.
Q takes it back, very disappointed in me, and very easily opens it.
"That's why you're the smart one in this family," I sigh.
"Yes, because I can read things like 'tear here', now this is your swab, inside your cheek, in that packet. Where's the boy?" He asks.
"Outside with your associate looking at sharp objects," I say, before stuffing the thing in my cheek. Easy. This is a very simple, very valid, way to prove it's not my kid. Good. Two days. Two days and Alex can quit looking at me like she wonders if she knows who I am.
"Oh, that's good for both of them then," Q says, taking my sample and putting it back in the package.
"I did come to ask another favor," I say, "I found Naomi's laptop at the house."
"Oh tell me you've brought it," Q says, holding out his cyber criminal hands hopefully.
"Oh yeah."
"So you do love me."
"Only a little, here, mac and power cord, and a DNA sample as requested, took her toothbrush," I say, taking it out of my backpack, "Also got the fabled birth certificate, big surprise I am on it."
"Hm," Q glances at the birth certificate, then set sets it with a stack of other papers on the glass coffee table, "Mind if I keep it?"
"No, go for it, and do your worst on the laptop. We've got no leads as to where she went," I say.
"Nothing in the house?" Q asks, raising an eyebrow. He's been on enough cases with me to know I know damn well how to search a house.
"She had a pack of condoms in the bedroom. But no signs of any overnight guests," I say, a bit quietly.
"So she's going out to have her fun. Going out clothes?" Q asks.
"And underwear, which makes whoever she was seeing our prime suspect in her disappearance at this point," I say, "Usually crimes like this are domestic."
"Ah but she's not an average girl is she? Girl's a hunter. Not too easy to overpower, more than used to a fist fight, more than used to losing a tail. She's not such an easy target," Q says.
"You're saying it's a member of the Hunt?" I ask.
"I mean, odds are," he shrugs, "That's who she's socializing with, right? Don't suppose the little one knows anything?"
"No, she always told him she was going to work. Which I mean do you tell your kids you're dating? That might be normal," I say.
"I mean, your brother brought me home, with you in the house," he shrugs a little.
"Yeah but we're us, and it's different telling your little brother you're seeing someone and asking him if he's gonna make something out of it. An adult trying to shelter a kid?" I ask.
"Touché, I suppose we get a pass there, you might not fully articulate you're off on a date. Easier to say work to the little fellow, she's clearly sheltering him, hardly wants a million questions, devil of it is doesn't tell us where she's gone. You were in the house, you saw the state of it, did she plan to leave for this long?" Q asks.
"She could have," I sigh, "She had everything damn set, the kid wasn't worried. Yeah, she'd prepped everything to disappear. But not for good. She intended to come back. Half used toothpaste, a few sets of earrings, plenty of clothes, no she thought she was gonna come home. She wasn't abandoning him."
"Doesn't get us anywhere. Supernatural or distressingly natural, her disappearance could have a million and one causes. So why do I feel like it's going to tie into something else?" Q frowns.
"I want it to, in a way, yet, I think the kid's better off," I say.
"That's a new low, Alex pack bonded to him yet?"
"Oh most definitely."
"Lovely, I'll text her later," Q says, as he plugs in Naomi's laptop, "Full charge, what, did she leave it on a power cord?"
"Yes."
"Put down crimes against electronics someplace."
"She was pretty technical. This is one of the many bugs I found, in her own bedroom," I say, holding up one of the little mics.
"What kind of suspicious bastard bugs their own bedroom?" Q frowns.
"Trying to keep the kid out?" I ask.
"You use a camera for that don't you? You can see it, if the kid's alone she's not gonna get any sound. What you're listening to all of it? No she thought someone was going to be talking in there. Or—,"
"She was talking to someone and wanted it recorded. She did bring someone back," I say.
Q nods, "Who is the question. Can I keep this?"
"Go for it."
"Go see my associate," is how Jack chooses to usher Danger back in. Danger basically bolts over to me, twisting his hands like he does.
"What'd you do, scare him?" I ask.
"Kid's good at doing push ups but is afraid of sharp objects," Jack says.
"I don't want to cut myself!" Danger whimpers, "We don't have any knives at my house, cause we don't want to draw the monsters."
"That's why you're holding a bat filled with nails?" I ask Jack.
"That's why I'm holding a bat filled with nails. Kid needs a weapon," Jack grunts.
"I know arming small children is one of your true passions but can you fetch me my green laptop, love? Dog's asleep," Q says, tipping his head up to look at Jack. There's a dog asleep on his hip, as well as another on the arm rest with it's little head on his arm, besides which fact he's out of his chair and settled on the couch he'd have to lift himself back in it.
"Yeah, stay—in the bedroom?" Jack asks, tipping Q's head back down.
"Yeah, probably, thanks—Danger, here, this is a DNA test because we're trying to determine who your father is," Q says, holding up his swab.
"You think my mom was lying too," Danger says, softly.
"I believe nothing without evidence. Here's our evidence," Q says, nicely.
Danger takes the swab willingly, competently reading the instructions on the packet before sealing it up.
"I assume you wanted the cords with it?" Jack returns carrying aforementioned green laptop.
"Yes, thank you," Q says, happily taking the bundle of electronics, to start hooking it up to Naomi's laptop.
"What are you doing?" Danger asks.
"Oh sorry, I'm simply ripping all the data from your mother's laptop—I'm cloning the hard drive, bit harder with Apple's security they like to vex me, however, I should be in in a couple of days," Q says.
"Wasn't—the FBI unable to hack into Apple? Or something?" I ask.
"Shh," Q says.
"He means thank you for the opportunity to once again prove his intellectual superiority to everyone," Jack says, putting a hand through Q's hair, but mostly straightening it.
"Shut up," Q says, without malice, opening the green laptop, "If that was all you needed, Jason?"
"Yeah, yeah, ah, we're going to get home. And drop this in the mail," I say, holding up the DNA test.
"Good luck," Jack nods, but he's looking at the kid, not me. He can't fully look at me.
That DNA test can't come back fast enough.
Dashiell
I wake up with my face on a tile floor. My head feels like a bomb went off inside it. And my mouth feels like it's full of sand. I'm so thirsty. And my every bone feels like it's been hollowed out. Painful. But weirdly light.
I groan and try to move but that sends more pain through my limbs. I can smell salt, and blood, and there's so much noise. Just pounding. Crashing.
Waves. Ship.
I'm on the ship.
I'm on the ship. They attacked. It's blurry. Hazy. Everything is so hazy. I want to die. I'm cold. I'm really cold. Why am I so cold? And why is everything pounding? Why can I hear the waves? Blood is sharp and metallic smelling all over my face and I can sweat rolling down my back.
What happened? They attacked us.
"Skyler," I breath, trying to push myself up. My eyes open but they're sandy, and I can see bloody stained tile. I'm lying in my own vomit. And I can barely move something is wrong with me. Something happened. "Skyler."
"I'm right here."
With great pain I roll over. She's sitting across from me. We're in a tiny state room. And she's covered in blood. One leg she has wrapped up in a splint. Her eyes are clearly red rimmed from crying. She's taken off her sweater and jacket, cut it up to make the splint for her leg. Her t-shirt is stained and torn.
I breath, raggedly, trying to lick my lips. My throat is raw, my mouth is so dry. Why is she sitting there like that? Looking at me as though I'm dead? Her face is stained with tears like she's been crying for me, and she looks at me with grief. That terrible, heartbroken side of love.
"What is it?" I breath, trying to touch my chest. I'm in pain everywhere. Am I hurt? Dying? I must have gotten hurt and I don't see it?
"Something happened," she whispers, her voice shaking.
"What?" I ask. I touch my chest. It is bloody. But the blood is running down from my neck. From my neck. I lay a hand carefully on the raw wound. "No," I whisper. Oh god no. Please. Not this.
"I couldn't leave you out there," she whispers.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I say, crawling over on the floor. I'm so. So weak.
She nods, tears running down her face, "I didn't want lose you. I couldn't do it." Her hand is on a stake. She knows that if I'm not in my right mind after the turning, she needs to stake me. In all logic she should have done it when I was turning and immobile. But she waited to see if I could pull through it.
"I'm okay. I promise. It's me. Your name is Skyler Mccan. We met on the seventh of December. Your favorite flower is the violet. You sleep with your arm under your head. Your favorite flavor of ice cream is that awful lemon, we got at Pike's market. And you want to own seven dogs. You put your mascara on your right eye, then your left. And put that green, Kelp cream on your face before bed. And I promised you I would marry you under a meteor shower, in a national park. Our baby is due in the first week of march. And I love you, more than anything. This is me," I whisper, moving over to lay my hand on hers. My own bloodied hand. Hers are bloody too. I touch her skin and it instantly burns me. I jerk back, wincing in pain.
"It is you," she says, softly, reaching up to take her cross necklace off. Of course. I lost mine in the fight. Which is how I got turned.
"It's me," I say, staring up at her, "Don't. There could be more—others—,"
She takes it off and puts it on the floor. Then she reaches out. Her hand is shaking.
I take it in mine, pressing it to my face. Not my lips, not now. I can't see her face as she tries not to pull away.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, still holding her hand.
"You're going to be sick. You need to eat," she says, quietly.
"I'm okay," I say, I can't stand the idea right now. And I have no real clue where we are. Painfully, I pull myself up against the wall to sit beside her. She looks at me, eyes filled with tears.
"I love you," I say, pressing my face into her hair, "Even if we only get this." she smells like, rosemary, and violets. And soft, sweet scents, like warm taffy, and candy. And I can still hear everything. But close to her I can even hear the air swishing in and out of her lungs.
"I don't know how to get us out. There are more on all the floors. I barricaded us in. But. I can't put weight on this leg. And I don't know what is out there for you to eat," she says, softly. She means blood.
"I'll get us out," I say. I don't know how much longer we can keep me. I mean do we keep vampires yeah we can do that but they know who I am. I'm wanted. And I was known to be on this ship. That's a pain and a half. It'll be damn obvious I've turned if I just disappear. And the first place to look is my parent's house. "I don't know how far I can I run, or how long I can make it like this. But I'll get you out of here, you and the baby."
"I don't think the baby's okay. After we got separated they got me pretty good, half my ribs are broken, it's not gonna be okay," she says, her voice cracking.
"No," I say, carefully putting a hand on her now firm belly. We're not far like seventeen weeks but her once lean belly is chubby and firm. We didn't realize she was pregnant when we set off, but we've since figured it out. We were going to turn around and go home as soon as we hit port.
I lower my breathing, trying to isolate the sounds. I can hear the steady swish of Skyler's heart. Then beneath my fingers, I feel what I was already hearing. A slow, methodic, but very firm beat of the baby's heart. I feel tears gather in my eyes as I listen to my child's reassuring heartbeat. "No, I can hear its heart."
"You can?" She asks, her hand tightening on mine.
"Yes, I can hear it's heartbeat, it's okay," I say, softly.
She puts her hand over mine on her rounding belly. It was last night I was tangled up in the sheets with her, kissing the stretch marks one at a time, curled up in our narrow bunk. Took us long enough to figure out she was pregnant, we kept mistaking morning sickness for sea sickness. Then about six weeks ago she started showing and yes we figured it out. Now I'm listening to my baby's heartbeat. Tears run down my cheeks as I shift to cradle her in my arms.
"I'm going to get you both somewhere safe," I say, rubbing her belly. The baby's heartbeat is fine, it's fine. Steady and sure.
"I'm so glad you're here," Skyler whispers, finally relaxing in my arms as I cradle her against me, just listening to the sounds of their hearts beating, nearly in rhythm.
"I did say I was going to be there for you, forever. Looks a bit different than we thought," I say, "And forever might not be a very long time."
"I don't know how to get out of here," she says.
"What time is it?" I ask.
"It's dusk, you woke up as soon as the sun went down. You've been having seizures—turning, really—all day," she says.
"Okay," I breath, "I need to get you out of here. We need to get to the control deck, we can radio for help. And we need to move now."
"They're going to move at night," she says.
"So am I," I say, trying to keep the anger from my voice, "I'm gonna be equally useless come day. I'm still a slayer. I can get us up there. Even if they're at full strength. And I'm not tangling with the sun." It's not like Freddy, or any of our Dhampire associates who will just get The Godfather of all sun burns. Oh no. I will be killed by sunlight. Clothing and the like can cover it up but that's not at all practical in a full fight.
"Okay," she says, "That might not work."
"I know."
"I was going to ask you to turn me too," she says, "So at least if it doesn't work we can die together in the morning."
"No, no, never," I say, my hand still on her belly.
"No, not now if the baby is okay—that might hurt it," she says.
"I have no idea what it would do to it. No, the two of you, will get off this ship alive, I swear it," I say.
"You need to eat," she says, "You're gonna be sick. If you're doing this you need to eat something."
"I'm not taking human blood," I know where she's going with this.
"Dash, I'm bleeding everywhere just drink it."
"No. End of discussion. There will be some animal—meat in the kitchen. I don't care. I am not doing that," I say, pressing my face into her hair. She smells so beautiful. It's intoxicating almost. So lovely and sweet. I wonder if all humans smell this nice or just her. Or what I am like now.
"You're such an idiot."
"Yeah well. You're stuck with me," I say, rubbing her arm, "You need to eat."
"I couldn't exactly search the room."
"Here," I get up and very painfully climb to my feet. The sink still works. In the bunk I find the former owner's backpack. Several bags of chips and a bag of water. I return with all that.
"Take some," she says.
"Baby, blood loss, I'm technically undead and therefore can't die unless I'm put in sunlight or staked, other excuses," I wave a hand at her.
"Yeah, but—,"
"I'm not going to feral," I say, checking the bathroom. A few cleaning wipes. I return with those and sit down on the floor next to her.
"I'm just worried about you," she says, studying me.
"Do I look different?" I ask, rubbing my mouth. I'm pretty disgusting from my blood and vomit.
"You're pale. Your eyes look different somehow, like a bit bigger pupil. And your teeth—,"
"Shit," I mutter, sticking a finger in my mouth. Sure enough, my two incisors are slick and pointed. The others feel sharper as well.
"It's fine," she says, touching my arm.
"If they catch me, don't—don't tell the baby I was like this, all right?" I mutter.
"Okay," she says, voice shaking a little.
"Because you and the baby, are going home. And you're gonna be safe. You've met my family you can stay there forever," I say, rubbing her good leg. She doesn't have much family. Got killed by monsters, that's how she joined the Hunt. So she's got us.
"Your family is cool."
"My family is disorganized," I mutter, checking her leg, "You think if I got you better supports, you could put weight on this?"
"Maybe, but that's all I had plus my stake," she says.
I walk over to the bunk bed, gesturing to it.
"Dashiell you cannot rip that apart with your bare hands."
"Watch me," I say, tugging on the metal rungs. Slowly, but surely, it bends. I get one bar off, then another. I'm panting from the effort. But damn if super-strength isn't useful. I smile, pleased with myself, then immediately remember my teeth or rather fangs. That's what they're called now. Fangs.
"Stop it," Skyler smiles too, "Show off."
"Come here, this may hurt," I say, taking off my flannel shirt. I'm wearing a wife beater underneath. I don't have proper UV clothes so I am gonna have to stay out of the sun anyway tomorrow. If I live to see dawn.
"It's okay, just do it," she winces, helping move her leg.
"Here, if I can get brace this firm enough, and strap it in, then you might be able to just drag it, hopefully I clear the way, you walk," I say.
"We're on the third level down. We have to go up three floors, to get to the control deck," she says.
"Then looks like we're going up three floors," I say, reaching out to hold her hand, "Do you trust me?"
"Yes, Dashiell, I trust you," she says, curling my hand against her stomach. The baby is moving. I smile, listening to their hearts beat. That's how I want to die. I don't care if the sun comes out if I can lie there listening to their hearts beat, knowing they'll be all right.
Q
"Something's bothering me about all this," I say, as we get ready for bed.
"The kid is an adulterer like his old man?" Jack mutters, lifting me out of my chair. I can haul myself, with proper supports. However I have yet to mind him just scooping me up like I don't weigh anything at all.
"I don't think he'd do that," I say.
"Try again," Jack says, taking his shirt off and tossing it at the foot of the bed before going around to his side.
"All right. I don't think he'd be able to keep up the lie this long. He did the DNA test willingly. And besides that let's say he is the father, who was bankrolling Naomi Mason? She had a lot of cash, and why? And why isn't that person coming out of the woodwork to claim his or her investment?" I ask, "There are too many things that don't add up. I don't like it."
"I remember that hunt," Jack says, lying down and not looking at me.
"You do?" I wasn't there obviously. So they'd have told me when they got back but there'd be no reason to name individual members.
"Yes. And Jason was on a patrol with Mason. Once or twice. I remember because she volunteered to go. He and Alex were split up looking after Spencer. But the point is he was alone with her," Jack says.
"Damn," so he could be guilty. I hate that, most for his wife. Alex is kind and the fact that she'd just lost a baby makes the adultery worse.
"Yeah. I'm shocked she didn't kill him."
"Wouldn't do anyone any good. Let alone any of those kids. And poor Danger. He's a bit odd don't you think? Upbringing I realize, however, looks like he wants to crawl out of his own skin," I say, "You give him a wand like device? Something to channel magic?"
"Kid said he'd never practiced magic, didn't know how," Jack says.
"I don't like this," I say.
"Look, odds are, Jason knocked the girl up, immediately forgot. She never bothered to contact him, found out it was a warlock and sold organ rights to disgusting folk. Now she got murdered by a new boyfriend. That's the most statistically likely explanation. Beginning and end of it," Jack says.
"I know, I know that's most logical," I say, sinking down in bed, "I just don't like it. I feel like I'm missing a few puzzle pieces."
"You may be. But doesn't mean you can't guess the whole picture."
"No. I suppose not," I sigh, thinking of Jason's face when he swore to me he's not the father. I want so badly to believe him.
"Go to sleep. You got that laptop to play with in the morning. And I've got teenagers to abuse," he says, reaching out a hand to pet my hair.
"Oh you're right I do, that will be fun," I say, tipping my head over to rest it on his shoulder. "It's a four year old device loads of data."
"That's right. Shut your brain off now it'll overheat."
"You brought up the computer—wait a minute."
"Oh god."
"Why didn't she take her computer?" I ask, sitting up on my elbow, "She went away planning to be away—why not take the computer? She left it on the charger—Jack get up," I say, shifting up to go crawl back in my chair.
"Why? What are we doing?" Jack gets up anyway.
"It's been a couple of hours, call the dogs—-never mind let me do it," I say, wheeling back into the living room.
"Tell me what we're doing."
"I thought you might like to be surprised when you blow up," I say pleasantly, turning the computer over. A mac, so the thing should be hard to open. And yet. I can easily slide a screwdriver into it.
"What—okay I'm assuming based off your triumphant-ass expression it's not supposed to look like that inside?"
"No, Jack, it's not meant to have a sheet of plastic explosives," I say, as I disable the initiator.
"She rigged her laptop to blow? When?" He asks.
"I don't know yet—ah okay," I flip the computer over to turn it on.
Pass word. What do I want to bet?
BANG, I type it and of course the computer opens. "Motherfucker," I breath.
"How'd you do that?"
"It was set to blow, if a wrong password was entered, or the battery dropped below 98%."
"So she had it on the charger so it wouldn't," Jack guesses.
I shake my head, "Putting a computer on a charger—,"
"Is bad for the battery I know. You've said."
"Ergo after several weeks of continuous charge—," I spin a hand.
"It would drop to 98%—it's a time bomb," he realizes.
I nod, "Or the boy got nosy and it's a wrong password."
"What in hell?" He asks.
"Either way, she had it set to blow. This means she did mean to leave," I say.
"And rather neatly cover her trail and exterminate the boy," Jack says.
I nod, "I don't know what secret Naomi Mason thinks she's hiding. But she's ready to kill for it."
Ash
"And how are things going with your evil plans?" Vanessa asks, coming out of the bathroom. I just got in. She's just finished cleaning up, wrapped in a red silk robe and I'm hoping little else.
"Throughly wicked," I say, taking off my tie, "And yours?"
"Just despicable, darling," she says, coming over to the bed, "Anything we need to go over? Or do I get you all night?"
"Oh all night?" I raise an eyebrow, but still put my hands on the smooth silk of her robe, feeling the curve of her hip through the slick cloth. "You've got stamina."
"I missed you," she says, kissing my lips.
"One day. You didn't lose me. You've never lost me," I say.
"You'd never take anyone else."
"Oh my angel nobody else would want me," I say, lifting her onto the bed, then I crawl down to start kissing her foot.
"That's so true it's nearly sad. Poor little warlock."
"Don't you dare pity me. I can't stand it when you treat me like I'm worth keeping around," I say, slowly kissing my way up her leg, "You know I'm just your dog."
"On a very nice chain. With a very nice bark. And an even better bite. Speaking of you being a feral dog that ought to have been put down—,"
"Yes?" I ask, kissing the side of her knee.
"Did you check on the Forrests lately?"
"The banes of my existence you mean? And their new pet warlock who will soon be dead?"
"You say that about all other warlocks."
"And it's always true. Because none of them are me. And I am the only one with the secret to staying alive."
"Which is?"
"I have no fear of dying," I say, carefully planting kisses on her soft thigh.
"Clever boy. Have you checked on them?"
"Not today. I was being naughty today. Creating mayhem and chaos as well as problems. But tomorrow the commission gets to inform them that the ship their son was on was lost to a hoard of vampires. So. That'll distract them from ruining my life for a while," I say, moving the robe aside just a bit so I can kiss her hip bone.
"Get that shirt off," she sits up to help me undress.
"I thought I was worshiping you tonight."
"Oh you are."
"One of these days I'm going to give you a little warlock, and you're going to have to kill it before the monsters do. And then you'll develop something like feelings and possibly a conscience and you'll be very disgusting and I won't love you anymore," I say, pressing my hand into her stomach.
"I'd enjoy it."
"What, smothering your infant before it gets eaten by bats and things?"
"No. Watching you not love me anymore. I'd be just what I am now. And just what I was before you had the audacity to ruin my life by being perfect for me."
"We aim to please," I say, finally getting my pants kicked off before going back to kissing her neck. She's toyed with the idea of a child. It would be good press. Good for her career. And of course other people would take care of the thing. But I fear she might get attached to it. And I'm quite content with her being attached to me. And only me.