The journey back to my shared apartment stretches out, but each step is a companion to my thoughts, giving me time to think over everything Dr. King and I have discussed. With a silent turn of the key, I enter the apartment, moving with a practiced ease. Every footfall is a whisper, a testament to the art of stealth I've honed over time, a skill born of necessity and refined through practice.
I stride purposefully toward the blonde, anticipation coursing through my veins as I prepare to surprise her. But before I can pounce, she spins around with startling agility, catching me off guard. Our eyes meet, and I freeze, momentarily taken aback by her piercing gaze. Her expression shifts into a scowl. "When will you quit doing that? It's weird."
I adjust my stance, feeling a pang of chagrin as her words sink in. My lips curve downward into a small frown, and I clear my throat before responding. "How do you always know? I was being sneaky."
Despite my best efforts to be stealthy, she always seems to sense my presence, like a sixth sense finely attuned to my every move. "I can smell you a mile away, pretty girl. Now, how about you come here and give me a taste?" she teases, her smile taking on a seductive edge as she flashes me her bleached-white fangs.
"And when will you stop doing that?" I retort, brushing off her flirtatious demeanor as I sidestep her and head toward the fridge.
"Oh, come on," she protests with a playful pout, her fingers lightly grazing my arm. "Just a little. You'd like it. I know you would."
"Didn't like it very much the first time," I counter, a hint of amusement in my tone as I recall our initial meeting.
"Whatever. I have leftovers in my room if you want a bite."
By leftovers, she means some poor man she seduced. "You know I don't."
"Lame," she whispers before trudging back to her room.
As I reach for the bottled water and fresh fruit, I can't help but overhear Idalia's seductive whispers to the waiting man, followed by a cascade of moans that pierce through the air. A cringe creeps across my features as I quickly tune out the sounds.
Over the past year and a half, I've found myself partnered with Idalia, much to my initial dismay. Yet, as time has passed, I've come to realize that she's not the worst person to ever exist, much as I might have expected or even hoped. Despite our differences, we've managed to forge a surprisingly amicable working relationship. In fact, I dare say we get along quite well. It's been eye-opening to witness her gradual transformation.
In recent months, Idalia has begun to open up, revealing layers of complexity that I hadn't previously recognized. While it certainly doesn't excuse her past actions, understanding her motivations has provided me with a deeper sense of empathy. At times, I find myself even pitying her, recognizing the struggles she must have faced to become the person she is today. It's a paradoxical feeling, grappling with both disdain and compassion for someone who has caused harm.
Damn my empathy.
The stinging guilt of being in the presence of someone who played a part in ruining my best friend's life weighs heavily on me, and I doubt it will ever truly dissipate. But in moments of reflection, I can't help but confront the uncomfortable truth— I'm no better than Idalia, after all. I played a role in Sophie's downfall, whether through direct actions or my own inaction and complacency. The weight of this realization is crushing, a heavy burden that I carry with me each day. I can't shake the feeling that I failed Sophie when she needed me most, that I could have done more to protect her from harm.
Do I forgive her for killing both me and my best friend? No. Can I tolerate her existence for the better good? Yes.
We're both only using each other. Our partnership was forged from a pragmatic agreement struck over a year ago, a pact born out of necessity rather than genuine camaraderie. From the outset, our alliance was based on mutual benefit. I agreed to assist Idalia in her quest to find her brother, while she pledged to aid me in seeking retribution against the members of WWA. It's a transactional arrangement, devoid of sentimentality or loyalty. And while I may grapple with the moral implications of our partnership, I know that, for now, it's a necessary evil.
I plop a piece of watermelon into my mouth, enjoying the sweetness. Unlike Idalia and traditional vampires, I don't crave blood in the same primal way. It's a curiosity that sets me apart, a deviation from the norms of our species. The discovery of my ability to survive on human food was a revelation, one that opened up a world of possibilities beyond the confines of my vampiric nature. It's a small comfort in an otherwise tumultuous existence, a reminder that I'm not entirely bound by the limitations of my kind. But perhaps even more intriguing is my newfound ability to compel other vampires— a power that I stumbled upon by accident, yet have refrained from using since. And anyway, it's not like I've needed to use it; Idalia has been much nicer to me since that discovery.
The bedroom door swings open and a very satisfied man emerges, his face aglow with a smile that belies the paleness of his complexion. Over time, I've come to learn that Idalia doesn't typically kill her human companions. Instead, she takes only what she needs, leaving them alive and seemingly unharmed, if not a bit drained. Living with Idalia has offered me insights into her peculiar needs, ones that diverge from the experiences I've had with other vampires in the past. Unlike the two vampires I once shared a dwelling with, Idalia seems to have a greater demand for blood.
I've observed her occasional bouts of severe nosebleeds and migraines, silent indicators of an underlying need that she keeps hidden from prying eyes. Despite the obvious discomfort these episodes bring her, she maintains a stoic silence, never once mentioning her strange condition. In my role as her cohabitant, I've learned to respect her privacy, refraining from probing into matters she chooses to keep concealed. However, the correlation between her symptoms and her need for blood hasn't escaped my notice.
The man gives me an embarrassed nod before he heads out, and I return the awkward gesture as I wait for Idalia to join me again. Her voice breaks the silence, calling out from somewhere in the apartment. "How was therapy with Dr. King?"
"Eh."
"Wow, that's much better than last week," she chuckles.
I shoot her a puzzled expression once she returns. "Last week it was: meh."
Rolling my eyes in jest, I make my way over to the large, comfy couch positioned before an even larger TV screen. Idalia follows suit, plopping down next to me with a casual grace. "Did you find the addresses?" I inquire, keeping my tone light as I settle into the plush cushions.
She extends her hand, presenting the phone we had stumbled upon just yesterday. "I found every address we'll ever need for the next year," she announces with a triumphant grin, her eyes alight with satisfaction. "I've added them to the calendar, right next to each event."
For us to work together, I had to tell her everything— the betrayal, my parents failed experiments, and the harrowing consequences that now follow. Her only response: "I knew it!"
While she didn't know exactly what was wrong with me, she knew something wasn't right. Reflecting on my encounters with both Idalia and Wrath, I came to a startling realization— one that had previously escaped my notice. Despite my human guise, I possessed an inherent resistance to compulsion. The first time I crossed paths with Idalia in the jewelry shop, her attempts to compel me had gone unnoticed. Similarly, when Wrath had tried to compel me to sleep, my instinctive reaction had been one of overwhelming fear, so I instead passed out.
When I first encountered Idalia, I quickly realized that she possessed a wealth of knowledge far beyond what I had initially assumed. It became apparent to me that WWA wielded far-reaching influence and power.
Despite its formidable size, WWA had dwindled over time, a fact that struck fear into my heart. The organization, while diminished, still posed a significant threat, particularly with only two families, the Adairs and the Wellingtons, continuing their research and operations. However, everything changed two years ago with the tragic loss of my parents. Their deaths marked a turning point.
The existence of a third family, shrouded in mystery and presumed to be long extinct, adds another layer of intrigue to our already complex situation. Exiled hundreds of years ago, their fate remains a puzzle, one that I'm not particularly eager to solve. The circumstances that led to the demise of an entire bloodline are a topic rife with speculation and conjecture. Some whisper of betrayal and internal strife, while others speak of external threats and vendettas. Whatever the truth may be, the thought of unraveling the mysteries of a bygone era holds little appeal for me.
The aftermath of my parents' death reverberated throughout the ranks of WWA, sending shockwaves through their organization and prompting a series of strategic maneuvers. In the wake of the tragedy, the leadership made the decision to relocate many of their prominent workplaces, as well as their famed auctions and parties, in a bid to bolster their security measures and evade potential threats.
Idalia has an inside man, and while he may not possess all the answers we seek, his insider knowledge provides us with a valuable advantage, offering glimpses into the inner workings of our elusive adversary. Jessie, her source, is how she figured out that WWA was operating in New York. He first approached her to warn her off back in California, but through persuasive charms and seductive prowess, she managed to coax him into becoming our ally, leveraging her innate ability to captivate and manipulate those around her. It's a testament to Idalia's allure and charisma, her magnetic presence capable of bending others to her will with nothing but a glance. Her beauty is a weapon in its own right, a potent force that grants her leverage in the clandestine world we inhabit.
WWA had concerns about Wrath and Cierien pursuing them after the death of my parents. However, in the wake of my demise, their vigilance waned, and the once-feared duo slipped from the forefront of WWA's consciousness. Perhaps, in the eyes of WWA, they were no longer perceived as significant adversaries, their absence from the spotlight leading to a sense of complacency among their ranks. I suppose I'll never be certain, but it's the only thing Idalia and I can think up.
The founder of WWA, often referred to as the big man by Idalia, maintained a keen interest in my parents' research, monitoring their activities with a watchful eye. Despite their efforts to conceal certain aspects of their work, he was astutely aware that something was transpiring beyond his purview, something that piqued his curiosity and raised suspicions. The experiments conducted on me represented a significant piece of the puzzle that the founder of WWA sought to unravel.
The warning about an unknown subject lurking within the facilities initially sparked concern among the operatives of WWA, but it wasn't until the mysterious death of my parents that their apprehension reached a fever pitch. The sudden loss, coupled with the unsettling presence of an enigmatic figure— Patient A-3— sent shockwaves through the organization, shaking them to their core. In response to the upheaval, WWA enacted sweeping changes to their operations. They relocated their facilities to more secure locations, purged their ranks of numerous workers, and temporarily suspended their notorious auctions, recognizing the need to reassess their vulnerabilities and fortify their defenses against potential threats.
Idalia's insight into WWA's mindset sheds light on their underlying fears and motivations. The specter of the unknown loomed large in their eyes, a source of unease and apprehension that intensified following my parents' untimely demise. Prior to their death, WWA may have harbored a false sense of security, trusting in my parent's ability to keep their experiments under control. However, with their sudden absence, there was no longer anyone to ensure that I wouldn't pose a threat to their operations. The nature of the experiments conducted on me in that basement remained shrouded in mystery, leaving WWA grappling with the unsettling possibility that I could be a weapon— an unpredictable force capable of bringing about their downfall.
Initially, when Idalia first told me this, I dismissed the notion as absurd. It seemed inconceivable that I could pose a genuine threat to an organization as powerful and influential as WWA. It took me a minute to realize that I was literally in the process of doing exactly that— and the numerous deaths of the company by my hands proved their theory just right. I am dangerous.
Silly ol' me.
There was a theory floating around that my parents had been working on a cure— that they had turned me into the cure. Yet, with my death, that theory crumbled like a house of cards.
Idalia's reluctance to divulge information about the enigmatic figure who followed me before my death, known as the man, speaks volumes about the gravity of his influence and the depths of her fear. Despite her typically confident demeanor, it's clear that she harbors a profound sense of trepidation when it comes to him— a fear that she has been reluctant to share with me. I've come to realize that he is the big man she speaks of— the head of the whole operation, as well as the Wellingtons. Because of this, it's safe to say he's a very distant relative of Idalia's. For Idalia, whom I once regarded as the epitome of fear itself, to be terrified of someone else speaks volumes about the magnitude of the threat he poses.
Though a semblance of calm has settled over our tumultuous world after my death, security is still in high demand. With our first foray into a WWA location, the stakes have never been higher. We've only ever been able to locate and kill off members individually outside of work; never actual warehouses filled with higher-up members. Idalia, ever the cunning strategist, entrusted me with the task of infiltrating the facility— a daunting mission made possible only through her resourcefulness and the invaluable intelligence provided by her inside source. Unfortunately, there were no signs of any doctors or vampires, only researchers. I did find something important though, the phone she's currently holding out to me.
With the phone containing dates for every future event— every auction, every party, every important event— it represents our most promising lead yet. In the past year, Idalia and I have methodically dismantled smaller members of WWA, biding our time until a substantial breakthrough presented itself. And now, with this invaluable piece of intelligence in our possession, the path forward becomes clear.
I scroll to the most recent event I can find: An auction.
June 14. 11 P.M.
The address isn't one I recognize, but with a little internet search, I find that it's only an hour's drive. And even better, it's tomorrow.
//
Woahh whole lot of information, I hope it made sense. This one was tough to write.
Next chapter in 30!