Tales of the Executioners, Volume Two

Tales of the Executioners

Volume 2

A collection of short stories

By Joleene Naylor

http://www.joleenenaylor.com

Joleene@joleenenaylor.com

First Smashwords Edition, 2019

Aine: Another Complication first published 2013 as Tales of the Executioners: Aine. Published as Aine: Another Complication 2017. Second Expanded Edition copyright 2018.

Bren: In the Dark first published as Tales of the Executioners: Bren 2016. Published as Bren: In the Dark 2017. Second Edition 2018.

Lisantha: Home for Christmas first edition 2016. Second Edition 2018.

Cyprus: Future’s Promise first edition 2017. Second Edition 2018.

Franklin: The Promise first edition 2017. Second Edition 2018.

Greneth: Halloween Hijinks first edition 2017. Second Edition 2018.

Fallon: Taste in Men first edition 2017. Second Edition 2018.

Zuri: Trapped first and second editions 2018.

Kioko: On Equal Terms first and second editions 2018.

Tellith: Fire of Imagination first and second edition 2018.

Roger: A Quiet Day first edition 2018.

Philip: What do you See? First edition 2018.

Senya: Reasons first edition 2018.

Obrad: Waylaid first edition 2018.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Interior images by Joleene Naylor & Zanatlija

Cover image courtesy of kdshutterman & Canstockphoto

Cover by Joleene Naylor

Ramblings from the Darkness at http://www.joleenenaylor.com

You never know what you’ll find in the shadows…..

Check out Zanatlija’s awesome font Old Retro Labels

Other books by Joleene Naylor:

Amaranthine:

0: Brothers of Darkness

1: Shades of Gray

2: Legacy of Ghosts

3: Ties of Blood

4: Ashes of Deceit

5: Heart of the Raven

6: Children of Shadows

7. Clash of Legends

8. Masque of the Vampire

9: Goddess of Night

Also:

Vampire Morsels Collection: 17 Short Stories

Tales of the Executioners Volume 1: Short Story Collection

Tales of the Executioners Volume 2: Short Story Collection

Heart of the Raven Mini Prologue Collection

Tales from the Island: Six Short Stories

Thirteen Guests: A Masque of the Vampire companion

Road to Darkness: A short story companion to Brothers of Darkness

Honeymoon Havoc: A short story

A Different Time: A short story

Deal with the Devil: Jorick’s origin story

COMING SOON:

Micah’s road trip (not the final title)

Tales from the Executioners Volume Two

Volume Two continues the stories of the Executioners, the vampires’ elite enforcers who uphold the Laws and administer punishment. Meet thirteen Executioners, hear their stories – from romance to heartbreak – and see through their eyes as Malick’s madness spirals out of control, leading to rebellion, betrayal, and death.

Contains expanded versions of some stories, only available in this collection, as well as the exclusive stories Philip: What do you See?, Senya: Reasons, Roger: A Quiet Day and Obrad: Waylaid. Also includes the Executioner Timeline Part 2 to help keep everything straight.

Thanks to Bonnie Mutchler and Chris Harris for their beta editing on the collection. Also thanks to Michele Taylor for her keen eye on Fallon, Susan Koenig for her beta editing on Aine, and Christine Connolly for her beta editing of Lisiantha!

Zuri: Trapped is dedicated to Sherry Hamby and to the memory of her son, John, with much admiration for their strength.

Thanks also to Ivy Crawford, Jennifer Miller Hagerman, Juels Jackson, Irene Melgoza, Jonathan Harvey, Gaye Pilgrim, Heather Lamb, Maegan Provan, Sheilagh Lee, Sherry Hamby, Dyrk Ashton and David Harvey for donating names to the various stories.

Also thanks to my awesome patrons on Patreon: Caitlin Coppola, Jennifer Haggerman, Denise Royal, and Barbara G. Tarn.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Intro: What is an Executioner?

Fallon: Taste in Men

Lisiantha: Home for Christmas

Philip: What do you See?

Greneth: Halloween Hijinks

Cyprus: Future’s Promise

Bren: In the Dark

Franklin: The Promise

Kioko: On Equal Terms

Tellith: Fire of Imagination

Zuri: Trapped

Aine: Another Complication

Senya: Reasons

Roger: A Quiet Day

Obrad: Waylaid

Executioner Timeline

About the Author

Connect with the Author

What is an Executioner?

The Executioners are the vampire’s equivalent of special police. They go on assignments that The Guild (the United States and Canada’s vampire government) send them on, and they don’t have a reputation for being very nice. It’s a reputation that’s often well deserved.

This is a collection of stories about those Executioners. In some stories, they’ve already been promoted to Executioner rank, in others, they’re still guards, working for the citadel, and, in a few, they haven’t even thought about joining The Guild yet.

Though the stories stand on their own, together they weave a narrative that continues from Volume One, leading up to Malick’s rebellion and the inevitable conclusion to his obsession with Jorick.

You can read more about Jorick, Malick, and the final battles in the Amaranthine series. And, of course, you’ll find the rest of the Executioner narrative in Tales of the Executioners, Volume One.

Confused about the dates? You can check out the Executioner Timeline Part 2 in the back of this book as a handy reference. Because the book series doesn’t have an exact date assigned (It’s somewhere in the 2000s), some of the timeline will simply say which Amaranthine book the events coincide with.

Fallon: Taste in Men

(This story takes place in 1985 and begins in the citadel in Iowa. It is nine years after Migina’s story [from Tales of the executioners: Volume One])

"…puppy love…"

With a grunt, Fallon kicked the record stand. The arm jumped, the needle skipped, and the syrupy music died.

Hey! Laura jerked up from her magazine, chocolate eyes narrowed. What the hell was that?

Fallon readied to kick the stand again, but she leapt to her feet and pushed him back. You’ll scratch it!

Good. I’m sick of that song. He flopped on the couch and dropped his head back. When he spoke he could hear the soft southern drawl, more pronounced with his irritation. I’m sick of all your music. Can’t you get something new?

Laura fussed with removing the record and carefully replacing it in its sleeve. I don’t like the new stuff. Music peaked-

In the fifties and early sixties, he finished for her. We’ve been listening to it for twenty years. Isn’t it time to give that crap a rest?

She shot him a dark look, then gently placed another record on the player. As a doo-wop song echoed through the room, Fallon buried his head under a pillow. For the love of God. I go on duty in two hours. Can’t you wait that long?

Fine! She jerked the arm off the record with a huff, then dropped back to the floor and her magazines. We can just sit in silence for two hours. Is that better?

He didn’t bother to reply. It didn’t matter what he said, he couldn’t win – not against his sister. She always found some way to twist things around. If she couldn’t, she’d resort to pouting.

Just like when we were kids.

As the quiet settled around the little apartment, the snip-snip of the scissors seemed too loud. His curiosity piqued, he dropped the pillow and leaned forward to see what she was doing. He looked from a pile of random magazine images, all neatly cut out, to the current heart shape she so carefully clipped.

Another collage? he asked finally.

You don’t need to sound so disparaging.

I wasn’t disparaging. I just asked-

"It was the way you said another. Like it was a waste of my time. She stopped cutting to look over her shoulder. I’ll tell you who doesn’t think it’s a waste of time: Warren."

At the name, Fallon ground his teeth, and mentally conjured the image of a vampire with dark hair and a leather jacket; something straight from a fifties rock ballad. A bad boy with a chip on his shoulder. He was just missing the motorcycle.

I thought we discussed him.

Laura scoffed and went back to her work. "No, you discussed him. I said I liked him, and you said-"

That he’s trouble. He’s not the kind of guy who’s going to appreciate you making a collage for him.

"That’s what you think. Snip-snip. He likes them. He thinks it’s artistic and creative. There’s more to him than you think."

Right. And after he’s gotten what he wants-

She set the scissors down and drew a steadying breath. Fallon, I am one hundred and forty years old-

One hundred and thirty-eight.

Close enough! As I was saying, I’m more than an adult. You don’t need to look out for me.

You’d rather I just sit back and watch you get your heart broken, again? He saw her stiffen and regretted his words. I’m sorry. But-

Why don’t you go to work? she asked through clenched teeth.

My shift doesn’t start for… He realized escape was the best option. Yeah. Good idea.

He scurried to his bedroom and changed into the black uniform of a greater guard. A quick brush of his hair yielded the same results as usual; it went where it wanted. He flicked the blonde curls that touched his shoulders. If he’d only had time to grow it longer before he was turned.

Or cut it shorter.

The curls were his curse to bear through eternity, just like Laura was his curse. Except he sometimes got a break from her for a decade or two.

Dressed, he trooped back through the small living room. He quipped a goodbye that was ignored, then headed out into the carpeted corridor. He knew he’d made her mad, but he’d meant well. He really didn’t want it to be like the last mess.

With that thought, he headed to the office. A group of five guards stood clustered inside, while another guard, named Noris, sat behind the desk, phone to his ear.

Look, I need one more to send to Malick…He wants to choose Executioner Griselda’s support himself this time…You know how he gets when he’s bored…I doubt he’ll choose you- He broke off when he met Fallon’s eyes. Never mind. Lucky number six just walked through the door.

Fallon held up his hands. I’m not on duty for another hour and some.

Noris hung up the phone. I don’t care. Report with the others to Malick’s chambers. He’ll choose some of you to accompany-

Executioner Griselda, Fallon said irritably.

Right, right. Off you go. Noris motioned them with a wave of his hand, then turned to paperwork, as if he was too busy to be bothered.

Fallon bit back his argument and followed the others out the door. Though they were from a different shift, he’d worked with them before. He fell into step next to Fletcher. Vampires were pale by nature, but Fletcher gave the word a new meaning. With skin the color of paper, his black hair and dark eyes worsened the effect.

So what’s the assignment?

Fletcher shrugged. No idea, though I don’t think it’s anything important.

I hate when Malick does this, especially when it’s something trivial. Does he really need to hand select us?

Fletcher nodded. It’s a nuisance. He lets the guard on duty, or the Executioners, pick for the more serious assignments, and then when it’s something dumb... I think Noris was right. Malick is just bored.

Fallon barely hid a snort. If anyone knows, it’s Noris. He’s been a guard for – what? A hundred years?

Belle, the only woman in the group, looked over her shoulder to them. Something like that. I heard he’ll never advance because he helped in a revolt, then came crawling back. I have no idea if it’s true.

They fell silent as they boarded the elevator. The deeper they went in the citadel, the stronger the ancient masters’ presence grew. By the time they stopped on the lowest floor, Fallon’s heart hammered in his ears. He took a deep breath and tried to force the fear away. He reminded himself that Malick hadn’t called them downstairs to punish them. Hell, he hadn’t even asked for anyone by name.

Fallon and the guards marched down the corridor in a knot, passing a pair of uniformed lesser guards. He nodded at those tasked with guarding the High Council’s personal chambers. To be down there all the time would get wearing. Dealing with the ancient’s presence now was bad enough, but to do it for hours, every day…

The hallway wound down around a corner and finally to Malick’s doors. Before they could knock, the master’s booming voice bid them enter. Fallon and Fletcher dropped to the back of the group as they headed through an anti-chamber and into an open room stuffed with plants and a fountain. Grow lights kept the vegetation alive, a change from Malick’s old habit of having them dragged upstairs before dawn and back again at dusk.

Unlike us, they need their sun.

In the center of the room, surrounded by the plants, stood Executioner Griselda. Tall for a woman, she was dressed in black, with a silver medallion around her neck. A long coat was folded over her arm, the usual accoutrement for one of her kind. An Executioner, she was essentially a policeman for the vampire world, tasked with enforcing The Guild’s laws. As a greater guard, it was Fallon’s job to assist her.

On a carved bench, in front of Griselda, sat the ancient master himself: Malick. His red robe was a bright contrast to the zebra skin hanging behind him. A long silver beard and flowing hair gave him the appearance of wisdom, while dark eyes sparkled with the power of his years. That power made Fallon looked everywhere but Malick’s face. He studied the new shoots of a plant, the fraying edge of a rug, even the soft wisps of Griselda’s blonde hair that had come loose from her bun. Anything was better than looking at him.

Malick waved his hand, and Griselda turned her cornflower blue eyes on the guards. I need four of you for an easy assignment. We should be gone less than a week.

No one spoke, so she added, We will head to California by plane. If this is a problem for anyone, bow out now. I don’t want to find out you’re afraid of flying after we’ve taken off.

One of the guards stepped back sheepishly, but no one else moved. With a chuckle, Malick stood and laid a hand on Griselda’s shoulder. My child, do not be impatient with them. I believe our presence overwhelms them, yes? Most are young. His eyes darted over the group, and they unconsciously drew closer to one another, as if the small power of numbers could save them. Fallon felt the master in his head for a moment – a burst of intrusion, like a match flaming to life, then dying in the same breath. Though Fallon wasn’t a mind reader himself, he could almost feel as it happened to the others; as Malick peered into their heads and abandoned them as quickly.

There. Malick suddenly motioned towards Fallon, Fletcher, Belle, and another. Take them.

Fallon’s heart raced as the master looked over him, but the ancient vampire as quickly turned away and moved back to his bench. I believe things have been arranged already?

Griselda bowed low. Yes, master. When a flick of his fingers said she’d kowtowed enough, she straightened and marched for the door. Meet me upstairs in five minutes.

Fallon waited until he was in the elevator to groan. He wasn’t supposed to be on duty yet, let alone assigned to accompany Griselda. Why had Malick chosen him?

He didn’t have time to contemplate. Instead he hurried to his apartment to pack. Laura was still cutting things out, her music playing full volume. He shouted over it to say he’d be gone a few days, but got no reaction. With a shake of his head, he tossed clothes and toiletries into a bag, then tried again to tell her goodbye. She pointedly ignored him, so he added a final, I’ll write when we get there, so you won’t worry.

I won’t worry, she said icily.

But he knew she would.

Fallon found Fletcher and Belle upstairs already. When the fourth joined them, they headed out into the night, in search of Griselda. Heavy clouds obscured the sky with the threat of rain, and frost crusted the dead leaves. Winter would be there soon. Another winter in a string of so many.

One hundred and forty, he thought wryly.

A van waited, a guard in the driver’s seat. Griselda sat next to him, eyeing her watch. The guards climbed inside, and settled in for the short trip to the airfield. A rural strip designed for crop dusters, it had been modified over the years to handle The Guild’s bigger planes. Though the vampires were supposed to be a secret, somehow the mortals always did just what was needed. As if Malick was manipulating them from deep in the earth.

He probably is.

The van came to life and the radio snapped on. Fallon closed his eyes, listening to the modern pop tune. At least he was safe from Laura’s fifties collection.

Still, the question remained. Why had Malick chosen them? Had he seen something when he looked into their thoughts? Or was it based on abilities? Fallon couldn’t imagine that. Griselda was an agonizer, Belle and Fletcher were phantoms, and the other guard was a titan. How would his own angel eye ability help? True, it was rare, but it wasn’t especially useful. Seeing the future, now that was something, but seeing the past…

His master had called the ability a curse; and sometimes it was. To see past moments captured like a painting, to hear old sorrows, and betrayals, all the dark things that people would rather forget. Though the past wasn’t always made of those moments, those were the ones Fallon usually saw, as if his subconscious will was bent only on misery. At least he couldn’t feel them, like some mind readers could. He couldn’t even look through a particular person’s eyes, only see what had happened; an observer watching a movie.

And it’s just as well, he mused. Memories could be faulty, biased, twisted. Even the most talented mind reader was never guaranteed the truth, only their victim’s version of it. On the other hand, he could see things as they’d happened, with no interference, like a fortune teller in reverse.

So even if they’ve forgotten something, I can still find out the truth. Assuming he could find the moment. Just because he tried to see something, didn’t mean he would, and sometimes his mind betrayed him, concentrating on the wrong thing entirely, pulling up the wrong moments.

No matter how much I practice.

The van stopped at the airstrip, and they filed out to a waiting plane. Decorated in leather and frosted glass, the interior resembled a board room more than a vehicle. A sign of the modern times.

Fallon belted himself into an overstuffed seat next to Fletcher. Griselda took one farther away. Once she was situated she pulled out a Walkman and popped a pair of headphones on. Fallon could just hear the refrain of a song he didn’t recognize.

Probably too modern.

Fletcher checked his watch as the plane rose in the air. We should get there well before sunrise. I imagine they have a place to stay worked out already.

Belle leaned over from a nearby seat. I hope so. I don’t want to be caught in the sun again. Not that it would hurt you, Fletcher.

When he arched an eyebrow, she explained, As pale as you are, you’ll just reflect the sun back.

Fallon chuckled and settled in for the flight, hoping it was really going to be an easy assignment.

They landed at a quiet airstrip in California. With an hour to sunset, they hurried to a nearby den. Their hosts’ lack of enthusiasm was palpable, but Griselda reminded them how lucky they were to be able to serve The Guild.

They don’t look like they feel very lucky.

The next evening, they took up residence with another coven. Their den was a small house near the ocean. Fallon could smell the salt water and thought of Laura’s Beach Boys collection. Though they were just on the edge of the so-called musical peak, she owned every album.

Why don’t we live near the beach? she’d asked more than once. We could learn to surf. Wouldn’t that be fun?

It sounded horrible to him. Plus – Because The Guild isn’t near the beach.

You don’t have to work for them, you know. Most vampires don’t.

This was where he usually sighed. I know, but I like it. I get to travel, and we don’t have to worry about coven wars, territory disputes, or hunting rights. If you want to live on the beach, you can. You don’t have to stay here.

And that was when she usually got mad, hurling couch pillows and accusations. You’d like that. You want rid of me, don’t you? You’re sorry that you turned me!

Of course he wasn’t really, and they both knew it, but it gave her something to say, something to make him defend against. And once he was on the defensive, he’d already lost. Not that he was sure what the contest was.

He still remembered when Laura and their brother, Orson, were turned. Fallon had been given the immortal gift after the battle of Pleasant Hill. There’d been no hill, and the bloody engagement had been far from pleasant, more like hell. Worse, history gave the win to the Yankees, even though the Union had turned tail and run afterward.

Not that he’d been there to see his enemies retreat. He remembered lying among the tall grass, gasping for air, and watching the sky darken. Moans sounded around him like crickets, quieting as men lost themselves to the endless slumber of death. He’d thought of his girl, Clarice, and of his family, and prayed that they’d at least find out what happened to him; that he wouldn’t just be reported missing as so many other men were.

That was when Lucien found him. He learned later that the vampire and his coven were combing through the remnants of the battle in search of food, but at the time he took them for angels or demons; a sign of his transition to the afterlife.

Lucian had looked him over – from the spill of his curly blonde hair, to his young, dirt smeared face – and declared, The boy is too well made to let death take him.

Though Fallon had lost consciousness, Lucien carried him back to their den and turned him. It had taken Fallon time to adjust to everything; to warm to Lucien, his mate Eva, and the others. Still, warming to them couldn’t stop his worry. His father had been killed in Donaldsonville, leaving his mother alone to take care of his sister and younger brother, one eighteen and the other fifteen.

Kinder than many masters, Lucian not only let Fallon sneak home a month later, but accompanied him. They found his mother dead of sickness, Laura ill, and Orson determined to throw his life away in the war. As a new fledgling, Lucien warned that Fallon wasn’t strong enough to turn both of them, so he took Orson, leaving Laura to Fallon.

Maybe that’s why Orson never wanted to stay, Fallon mused. He didn’t have the same connection as Laura and I.

They’d left the next night for Lucien’s den. Fallon had thought of visiting Clarice, of maybe turning her, too, but his new master refused. You’ve already asked a great deal, and been granted it. Do not push for more.

Fifty years later, Fallon had gone home looking for her, curious how her life had turned out. He couldn’t find her, or anyone who knew where she’d gone. His story about being distant relation – because how could he explain that he hadn’t aged? – was viewed with suspicion, and he’d given it up.

Just one of those little mysteries we’re not meant to know the answer to, I suppose.

Not that it mattered. If his strange ability had taught him anything, it was the futility of dwelling on that which had already come to pass.

You can’t change it, anyway.

After breakfast, Fallon learned their assignment: to settle a dispute among covens. Four of them, including their hosts, claimed that the hunting territory belonged to their coven first, and that the others were interlopers who’d muscled in.

Fallon wrote Laura a quick letter, to let her know he got there safely and what was going on. He imagined her question, Why does the territory matter so much? and added:

"The territory makes a difference because if too many vampires hunt people in the same location, the mortals start to notice the high rate of disappearances. Noticing leads to investigating, which leads to mortals discovering us. It’s important for covens that share hunting grounds to work together to keep human casualties low, so as not to draw attention. If they can’t get along, then someone has to relocate. The Laws say that it’s first come, meaning whoever was here first gets to stay and the rest have to either capitulate or leave."

He stopped from adding, This is why I like working for the Guild. We don’t have to worry about that happening to us.

Griselda gave him permission to mail his missive, then set him to work at coven number two’s den. His job was to lean against the wall, hand on his weapon, looking menacing, while she interviewed the vampires, and logged their claim of first ownership. The experience was the same at the third coven and the fourth. When they returned to their hosts early in the morning, they were no closer to a resolution.

I’ll contact The Guild and see what information they have. Meanwhile, you! She turned her blue eyes on Fallon. You’re an angel eye, yes?

He nodded.

Can you determine the truth? Who was here first?

I can try, he offered uncomfortably. I can’t make promises.

She nodded. Do what you can. In the meantime, tomorrow Belle and Fletcher, you will visit the local courthouse and check property records.

They saluted and Belle asked, What if we can’t determine who was here first?

Griselda scoffed. In five days I’ll make a decision regardless, even if I have to flip a coin. The covens will respect the ruling or die.

Death. The Executioners’ usual means of forcing compliance. Always effective, it was guaranteed to work. They did as they were told out of fear, or they suffered the consequences. Either way, the problem was solved.

After a shower, Fallon hid in the bathroom to be alone. He leaned against the tiled wall, eyes closed. He concentrated on each coven in turn, imagining the way they looked, and searching for scenes of unpacking or of claiming a house. He saw a short scene of the second coven unwrapping glassware, and the leader of the third drinking from a mortal in the middle of the living room, but there was nothing in either to give a definitive date. All he’d learned was that the second coven had a well-stocked kitchen, and the third had taken the house from pre-existing mortals, meaning that unless they’d filed a change of ownership, chances were their property records would be useless.

With a grunt of displeasure, he dressed, then reported to Griselda. He expected reprimand, but she took it in stride with a breezy, Try again tomorrow. It’s late now, before she headed down the stairs to the basement and bedtime.

And he did try again. And again. Belle and Fletcher copied property records but, as he suspected, no one had bothered to transfer ownership except coven number two. They’d gone to the trouble to purchase the house legally, so they were the only ones with a provable date: March 1984.

That’s more than a year ago, Griselda said finally. If all four had been here that long, we’d have heard about it before now. That coven can stay. The others will move.

The pronouncement included their hosts. When she delivered it the following evening, it was met with howls of rage.

We’ve been here since 1982! the leader shouted.

Griselda glanced at Fallon, but all he had for her was a shrug. He’d seen clips of their past; of them hunting, sometimes in a field, sometimes near the local beach. He’d seen them sitting in the living room, doing laundry, even repainting one of the bedrooms, but he had no idea when any of the events took place. It wasn’t as if people stood in front of calendars all the time. Their clothes, hairstyles, or even music were of no use to date it, either. His own sister still thought it was 1955.

That’s my official ruling, Griselda barked back. If you don’t like it, I can remove your head and be done with it.

The leader grumbled, but didn’t reply.

We’ll deliver the verdict to the other covens, then head back to Iowa. Griselda snapped her fingers and the guards scurried for their luggage. When they rejoined her, she led them to the door, stopping to toss back to the angry coven, The Guild appreciates your cooperation.

The news was greeted just as furiously at the other two covens. When the vampires had calmed down at the third, the leader said, "I understand this is your final ruling, but is it really final? Can’t we work something out. He rubbed his fingers together, indicating a monetary transaction. Name your price."

Griselda snickered. I’ll take whatever you have to offer, but the judgement stands. She helped herself to an open box of cassette tapes, tossing out her rejects as she added, You have one week to leave, or Executioners will be back. We won’t be friendly next time.

Not that we’ve really been friendly this time, Fallon thought.

The winning coven was, of course, delighted. Though there was still no proof they’d actually been first, Fallon had to give them credit for being the only ones to create a paper trail. The funny thing was, in eighty years, the same paper trail that saved them now could get them into trouble. The land deed department would get suspicious if someone over one hundred years old still owned the same house.

Let the future worry about that.

Fallon was happy to board the plane and head home. He watched Griselda trying out her new cassette tapes, and wondered if that was really the way to do things. He understood that fear was necessary – the only way to make a super-human creature cooperate was to make them believe they were weaker than you – but straight up theft?

They shouldn’t have tried to bribe her, I guess.

Once back at the citadel, he stopped in the office to file his paperwork. Fletcher was right behind him, an identical sheath of paper in his hands.

I don’t understand the point of all this. Fletcher waved his papers.

Noris snatched them from him with a glare. Talk to Eileifr. He’s the one who loves keeping records of everything. It didn’t used to be like this. It started with a short write up and now look at this! He waved the papers emphatically. It’s useless busywork!

Fallon agreed, but he didn’t want dragged into anything, so he just murmured and hurried out the door, Fletcher on his heels.

The other guard checked his watch. We have a couple of hours ‘til the morning comes. Do you want to get a drink?

After feeding on wild animals for a week, a draught of spiced blood from a civilized glass sounded great. Let me change first. I hate walking around in this thing when I’m off duty. Everyone sees the uniform and thinks I’m available to work.

Fletcher laughed, but followed him back to his apartment. Fallon knocked on the door, waiting for Laura to answer. When she didn’t he called, Hey! I’m home! Let me in!

Nothing.

She can’t still be mad, he muttered as he fished out his key.

Mad about what? Fletcher asked.

Oh, we got in a fight over this new guy she’s been seeing. Warren. He’s bad news. Anyway, I mentioned the last fiasco and she blew up. He unlocked the door and stepped inside the quiet living room. Laura?

Fletcher followed him inside. I missed the last fiasco. You’ll have to fill me in.

Fallon motioned him to silence. If Laura overheard him talking about it… Laura? He moved through the silent rooms to the open bathroom. The light was off and everything seemed in order. From there he moved to her bedroom. The bed was neatly made, but there was an air of desertion, as if something was missing.

The note on the pillow confirmed it.

Fallon-

You’re my brother, and I love you, but I need some space. Warren has invited me-

Warren! Fallon shouted, and quickly turned back to the note.

-has invited me to go with him to Florida for a while. I’m not saying I’m in love with him, but I’m willing to see what happens. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ll write when we get settled. Take care and stay safe.

-Laura

Fletcher leaned in the doorway. What is it?

Fallon shoved the note at him, then ran to her closet, her dresser, her bookcase. Everything was empty. He dashed past his fellow guard, back to the bathroom. Sure, it was tidy, but gone were the fancy soaps, the makeup basket, and the electric hair curlers. In the front room, the record stand had been cleaned out. Even the record player was gone. Laura had packed up everything she owned and run away with Warren and his leather jacket.

Fantastic.

Fallon closed his eyes and concentrated on his sister; on her leaving. He saw her packing records in an old green suitcase, saw her folding clothes, humming to herself. Then he saw a flashy sports car. Warren grinned, his dark hair slicked back, and his leather jacket shiny under the street lights. A flash of brick building behind him said that they’d made it somewhere else, though Fallon couldn’t see where.

Uniform forgotten, he started for the door. I need to go look for her!

Fletcher hurried to grab his arm. Who knows how long she’s been gone. She said she’d write. It would be smarter to check your mail first.

I don’t think she’s made it to Florida. I didn’t see any palm trees.

Fletcher’s confusion melted into understanding. You don’t know what you saw. All of Florida isn’t peppered in palm trees, any more than all of California is. Besides, she’s an adult.

Fallon pulled loose. You say that because you weren’t involved in her last mess. That was a guy named Norbert, though he’d started going by Stone. Do you know what happened?

No. Fletcher rolled his eyes and stepped back.

She went with him to New York. Big city, lots of glamour. They lived in a mansion with crystal chandeliers and velvet wallpaper. It was perfect until the human police stormed the place to bust up his ‘human sex trafficking ring’, which, by the way, he was running. Hell, he pimped girls out from their house! Of course, he slaughtered the police, and the girls, then took off, leaving Laura behind for the Executioners to pin everything on. Do you have any idea how hard it was to get her out of all the charges? As far as I know they still haven’t found him.

Fletcher shoved his hands in his pockets. All right. That was pretty bad.

And before that! Before that she was with Mitchell. He didn’t have a human trafficking ring, instead he was smuggling vampires in and out of the country; wanted vampires. He got caught with a fugitive and the Executioners took off his head. Before him, there was Jack. Jack, at least, didn’t break the law, but he had a lover in every city. When Laura confronted him all he had to say was goodbye. No apologies, nothing. Couldn’t admit he’d treated her terribly. And before that was-

I get it, Fletcher interrupted. I get it. She goes for bad guys.

Bad guys is an understatement. Her taste is terrible, and I know this one’s going to drag her into some kind of mess, too, maybe a mess she won’t come back from. I need to find her!

As Fallon darted out the door, Fletcher shouted after him, Just check the mail first, huh?

Though it was probably useless, he took the advice. Waiting for him was a stack of mail that included the letter he’d written Laura in California – She doesn’t even know if I made it there! – and a pink envelope with no return address.

He ripped it open. A note on pink stationary said:

Dear Fallon,

We made it! We’re getting settled in with Warren’s coven. They seem nice. The house is a little small but it’s only half an hour to the beach. Though there’s no basement, the room where we sleep is safe.