you’ll stay here.”
Grabbing the axe, he stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.
“Well…fuck you!” I shouted, kicking one of the couch cushions to the floor. How dare he! As if I were somehow incapable of looking out for myself in my own, albeit probably on fire, apartment. And what did he mean when he’d said I’d be a distraction?
Did he think I was going to get in his way, asking questions with painfully obvious answers and twirling my hair while looking on with a vapid expression?
Jerk.
I tossed the cell phone on the table. It slid across the glass top, colliding with the notebooks piled there. Papers cascaded to the floor. Frowning, I knelt to straighten them. I lifted the papers one sheet at a time and shuffled them into a uniform stack. When I laid the pile aside, I noticed the top page was an Internet printout of a map. It was a map of the very affluent neighborhood on the east side of town, with a big red X drawn on in marker.
Now, this was interesting. I flipped the paper aside to examine the sheet underneath. It was a fax, dated three days before John Doe had attacked me. Sent from VVEM to N. Galbraith, the letter contained only an address. The same address on the map.
“I thought his last name was Grant,” I muttered to myself. I was about to flip to the next page when the cell phone rang.
“Nate, it’s me. I’m stuck in this emergency room. They put me in this curtained-off little room and haven’t been back since. I think they’re calling the police.”
I cut Ziggy off when he stopped for a breath. “Nathan isn’t here. Dahlia set my apartment on fire. He went to check it out.”
“No shit? And he left you there?” He sounded as surprised at Nathan’s actions as I was.
“He thinks I can’t defend myself.” I looked over at the computer desk in the corner.
“Listen, a fax came after he went out. From VVEM? Is that the Movement?”
His curse resonated down the line, and no doubt through the stark, sterile emergency room. “Yeah. That’s them. I wonder what they want.”
“I didn’t read it,” I said, compounding my lie.
“It’s probably another kill order.” He cleared his throat. “Just stick it on the fridge. It’s the first place he goes after a fight.”
“Thanks, Ziggy.” I bit my lip. “When exactly did the order come down for Cyrus?”
“The original one? I don’t know, he’s got like forty by now. Hey, somebody’s here to take my blood and they’re not happy I’m on a cell phone here, so—”
“No, the last order for him,” I practically shouted into the phone. “When did that come
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through?”
“Why?” Ziggy’s tone was suddenly suspicious. “Maybe you should ask Nathan when he gets back. I have to—”
“Ziggy, wait!”
The line went dead. I threw the phone to the floor in frustration. This was too much of a coincidence, I concluded as I stared at the map. Three days. What were the chances he’d gotten this message about a different vampire three days before he’d attacked Cyrus?
I flipped a page. There was my answer, in black and white. From: VVEM
To: N. Galbraith
Re: Case #372-96 Part 9Y
Assassination Order: Simon Seymour, aka
Simon Kerrick, aka Cyrus Kerrick for Crimes
against Humanity.
Well. There it was.
I glanced guiltily at the door and wondered how long Nathan would be gone. But did I really care if he found me missing?
Remembering his condescension earlier, I decided that I definitely would not care. This wasn’t any of his business, and I only had a few precious days left to make my decision about the Movement. I deserved to know the truth about my undead birth. As much help as Nathan had been, it wasn’t his blood flowing through my veins. A curious ache filled me at the thought of Cyrus, and I wondered if this yearning was a symptom of the blood tie. And if it was, would this
Grabbing the axe, he stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.
“Well…fuck you!” I shouted, kicking one of the couch cushions to the floor. How dare he! As if I were somehow incapable of looking out for myself in my own, albeit probably on fire, apartment. And what did he mean when he’d said I’d be a distraction?
Did he think I was going to get in his way, asking questions with painfully obvious answers and twirling my hair while looking on with a vapid expression?
Jerk.
I tossed the cell phone on the table. It slid across the glass top, colliding with the notebooks piled there. Papers cascaded to the floor. Frowning, I knelt to straighten them. I lifted the papers one sheet at a time and shuffled them into a uniform stack. When I laid the pile aside, I noticed the top page was an Internet printout of a map. It was a map of the very affluent neighborhood on the east side of town, with a big red X drawn on in marker.
Now, this was interesting. I flipped the paper aside to examine the sheet underneath. It was a fax, dated three days before John Doe had attacked me. Sent from VVEM to N. Galbraith, the letter contained only an address. The same address on the map.
“I thought his last name was Grant,” I muttered to myself. I was about to flip to the next page when the cell phone rang.
“Nate, it’s me. I’m stuck in this emergency room. They put me in this curtained-off little room and haven’t been back since. I think they’re calling the police.”
I cut Ziggy off when he stopped for a breath. “Nathan isn’t here. Dahlia set my apartment on fire. He went to check it out.”
“No shit? And he left you there?” He sounded as surprised at Nathan’s actions as I was.
“He thinks I can’t defend myself.” I looked over at the computer desk in the corner.
“Listen, a fax came after he went out. From VVEM? Is that the Movement?”
His curse resonated down the line, and no doubt through the stark, sterile emergency room. “Yeah. That’s them. I wonder what they want.”
“I didn’t read it,” I said, compounding my lie.
“It’s probably another kill order.” He cleared his throat. “Just stick it on the fridge. It’s the first place he goes after a fight.”
“Thanks, Ziggy.” I bit my lip. “When exactly did the order come down for Cyrus?”
“The original one? I don’t know, he’s got like forty by now. Hey, somebody’s here to take my blood and they’re not happy I’m on a cell phone here, so—”
“No, the last order for him,” I practically shouted into the phone. “When did that come
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer ( http://www.novapdf.com )
through?”
“Why?” Ziggy’s tone was suddenly suspicious. “Maybe you should ask Nathan when he gets back. I have to—”
“Ziggy, wait!”
The line went dead. I threw the phone to the floor in frustration. This was too much of a coincidence, I concluded as I stared at the map. Three days. What were the chances he’d gotten this message about a different vampire three days before he’d attacked Cyrus?
I flipped a page. There was my answer, in black and white. From: VVEM
To: N. Galbraith
Re: Case #372-96 Part 9Y
Assassination Order: Simon Seymour, aka
Simon Kerrick, aka Cyrus Kerrick for Crimes
against Humanity.
Well. There it was.
I glanced guiltily at the door and wondered how long Nathan would be gone. But did I really care if he found me missing?
Remembering his condescension earlier, I decided that I definitely would not care. This wasn’t any of his business, and I only had a few precious days left to make my decision about the Movement. I deserved to know the truth about my undead birth. As much help as Nathan had been, it wasn’t his blood flowing through my veins. A curious ache filled me at the thought of Cyrus, and I wondered if this yearning was a symptom of the blood tie. And if it was, would this
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