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He'd trashed his apartment, throwing books and dishes, upending the coffee table, and breaking the one framed photo that usually sat atop the television. Shards of glass littered the lush white carpet, reflecting the light from the lamp on the floor. It lay on its side, the bulb naked and too-bright. Other debris from his tantrum threw shadows in the yellow light, some stretching across the fine pile of the carpet, others sliding up the wall.Once upon a time, the photographer in him - the artist, his grandmother used to say - would have taken great interest in the contrast of light and dark, in the aesthetics of the disaster. Now, he stared with unseeing eyes, his mind working furiously to conjure up an image of the woman he'd abandoned. He dropped his head into his hands and clenched his eyes against the sting of tears. What had he expected, really? That he'd run away and everything would somehow work out? Tom didn't think he'd been that naive, but the fact remained that he'd done it anyway, even knowing the danger. He'd had her blessing, of course, but then... she'd had no idea what he was leaving her with.
"Oh, Tom," she said, a small smile on her face, her happiness shining in her eyes. "I'm so glad you're doing this. You have too much talent to let it go to waste. School will be good for you."
School had little to do with it. It was far less important than getting away from the vampires that infested the city, but Tom hadn't pointed that out. No, that would only have emphasized the fact that he was about to turn tail like a coward, leave an old woman in the middle of a mess he himself couldn't deal with. It was amazing how the human mind could rationalize anything. Tom's own had done a marvellous job. It wasn't leaving Grandma Conrad in danger - Mike had no interest in her. In fact, he'd never even been to the house. Also, it wasn't like his grandmother ever went out at after dark - she had night blindness. Her chances of running into a vampire were practically non-existent.Yeah, not even he'd been so desperate as to actually believe that, but it was something to cling to as he'd hurriedly packed his bags and ran to the airport for a 4 PM flight. It took most of his savings, but his grandmother hadn't even questioned his reluctance to take the train, something he'd loved doing since he was a child. It didn't make economic sense, but the train just wasn't safe, not when the trip was nearly ten hours long. There was so much hostile territory to cover; it would have been a waste of time to get halfway there only to be dragged back, by Mike or any other Dandy.Tom didn't know much about the other vampires - Mike had been careful not to reveal too much - but he'd spent enough time around the young ones to overhear bits of conversation. Nowhere was safe, but there was one place that might be, if he was careful. That it had a university with an awesome photography program - one that had shown unsolicited interest in his work - was incredible luck. It was also the best cover story Tom was likely to find.The college fund was a blessing that Tom would forever be grateful for. His grandmother had always been vague about the details, and Tom himself had never met the man who'd set it up. All he knew was that a friend of his father's had taken it upon himself to do what Richard Conrad had never managed: give a damn. Tom knew that had things been different, if his grandmother hadn't been a widowed pensioner trying to raise a young boy with a bottomless stomach and an expensive hobby, she never would have accepted the money. Evelyn Conrad was a proud woman, but she'd loved her only grandchild. She'd wanted the best for him.And look how he'd repaid her.Angrily, Tom got to his feet and began pacing the length of the living room. He had to stay rational; there was no proof that his grandmother had been murdered. The officer on the phone hadn't wanted to discuss specifics, had only said that she'd passed away at home. She'd been 84, after all - maybe she died in her sleep, peacefully and painlessly.Tom made a face.No, that wasn't likely. Besides, even if the cop had been more forthcoming with information, it wasn't like Tom could trust him - the Dandies owned the police. He wondered if it was the same in all cities.Glancing at the clock, Tom saw that he had two hours before his train was scheduled to depart. He'd wanted to leave immediately upon hearing the news, but while there was a red-eye flight he could have taken, the lack of funds in his bank account put an end to that plan. With no other choice, Tom had booked himself a one-way train ticket home. It was first class, double the price of a regular ticket, but the chances of making a return trip were slim. Mike would be on his doorstep come nightfall.Tom didn't know exactly how far he had to go for the connection between them to short circuit - he'd been too terrified, too nervous and jumpy to notice it shutting down - but as best as Tom could figure it, the thread that linked them would never really go away. After all, he could still feel some of the effects of the vampire blood he'd been marked with. How many people had smiled at him when he got here, called him charming when all he’d wanted was to make a good impression? He'd been desperate for it, almost shouting it inside his head....A different Tom Conrad might have thought it was fun, the one who'd willingly - eagerly - accepted repeated markings a show of good faith during an unusually long courtship. That Tom would have asked for stories, or begged to page through the books in the incredible Dandy library, soaking up every scrap of information Mike was prepared to give him. He'd have wanted to be the best he could be, not only for his own benefit, but also for Mike's.Ironic, how that need to please would eventually give him back his sense of self.As much as he wanted to, Tom couldn't lie: he'd known what Mike was; he'd even fallen a little in love with the notion of it. Eternal life and never ending parties, a family so close that nothing could break them apart. Sleeping late next to a lover who cared for you, who would teach you everything you needed to know. All of it had been seductive, and Tom had wanted it so very badly.No, he hadn't been lied to or manipulated. All Mike had done, all he'd had to do, was take the edge off of some of Tom's worries. He hadn't been mindfucked or coerced, and no matter how hard he wished he could hide behind that, the fact remained that Mike's influence had grown weaker with every marking until, finally, Tom found himself immune.They'd discovered that by accident, on his last night back home.
It was a massacre, there was no other word for it. Screaming and pleading and the sick sounds of people dying. Tom stood in the corner, watching with wide, scared eyes, doing his best to keep the attention off himself. His stomach churned and he seriously thought he was going to puke all over the expensive carpet. These were human beings, begging for their lives. Tom could hear them crying, could hear the wet sound of air being drawn into their ruined throats. This... this was wrong. There were ways to comfort them; Tom had heard that much from some of the fledglings. This was cruelty for cruelty's sake.

"Tom." His name was said sharply, startling him from his horrified thoughts. When Mike reached for his hands, Tom realized they were fisted at his sides. He forced himself to open them, to let the vampire twine their fingers and tug him forward. Tom knew what was coming and while it scared him, the thought of this new awareness being taken away, part of him wanted nothing more than to forget what he'd seen.

"There is nothing to worry about," Mike said, stressing each word. Tom blinked. Nothing happened.

Mike scowled and tried again.

Tom had been so incredibly naive about everything, but he could recognize the danger he was in. He played along, took a front row seat, and became just as guilty of murder as everyone else.
He'd rationalized it, of course. He hadn't been able to help. What use was there in everyone dying? Tom Conrad had a lot going for him, especially his well-developed sense of self-preservation. He was fighting it now. It was hard.He knew he couldn't dodge Mike for long, but could he keep the vampire out of his grandmother's house? Technically, it was Tom's now. He also knew he'd never be able to leave the city, so did that count as taking up residence there? Of course, Mike could always burn the house down - Dandies seemed to like that - but Tom didn't think he'd do it. Not until he'd had a chance to ask his questions, to demand details of what Tom had done for the last eighteen months, where he'd gone and how he'd gotten by....What should Tom say? He was a shitty liar, but would the truth cause problems? Schecter was a vampire, a Dandy at that, but he'd still been good to Tom, allowing him to hide from anyone associated with William Beckett and, by extension, Mike Carden. Tom doubted he'd ever know why the vampire allowed him to stay, nothing beyond his vague non-answer ("Because you interest me,") or the stories he’d heard of bad blood and mysterious insults. He supposed there was a thrill in denying one of Beckett's followers, but Tom would never presume to say that to Schecter face. He wouldn't enjoy being thought so common.With a sigh, Tom got to his feet and grabbed the small backpack he'd stuffed his clothes into. He hefted it to his shoulder and took a moment to look around the apartment he'd lived in for the last year and a half. It was nice, really fucking nice. He'd avoided sending his grandmother pictures, no matter how often she'd asked to see it. One look and she'd be on his doorstep, demanding to know what he'd gotten himself mixed up in. There was no way a poor university student, one living on scholarships and grants, could afford a place like this. Tom himself had been suspicious of the rent at first, before he'd realized just who owned the building and what, exactly, was across the street from it. He'd been put up across from the Dandy safe house, though whether it was for his own protection, or so the vampires could keep him from causing trouble, Tom wasn't sure. Schecter wasn't exactly chatty, and Tom had gotten damn good at avoiding anyone with fangs.He didn't bother to lock the door as he left, but he did hesitate for a moment, wondering if he should leave some kind of note. He had no doubt that someone would be along to clean out the apartment - probably sooner rather than later, judging by the look Schecter had given him last night. Should he thank the vampire for his... hospitality? Dandies were very big on politeness and manners.If a little part of him was hoping that maybe, just maybe, some good could come from not burning all his bridges, Tom did his best not to think about it.
He was booked onto a 5 AM train, along with two dozen commuters. As Tom took his spot in line and dug around the front pocket of his bag for his ticket, he was happy to see that he was surrounded by middle-age business types. Most were already working furiously on their BlackBerrys, flipping through copies of the Financial Times and comparing notes with business partners in other cities. No one took notice of the young man in faded, baggy jeans, with hair that desperately needed a comb, and piercings that looked out of place given the company he was with. Tom supposed he was being ignored, not neat enough to fit in with their world view. He didn't mind; the last thing he wanted to do was make conversation.The line started moving and Tom adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, taking small, shuffling steps forward. He held his ticket out for the attendant to see, and proceeded to the platform. The train had assigned seating, so he made his way down the aisle and shoved his bag into his overhead compartment. His seat was next to the window; the cool glass felt nice against his forehead when he curled up against it. As he closed his eyes, Tom was struck by how incredibly tired he was. It surprised him - with all the guilt, not to mention the horrible things he saw when he closed his eyes - he didn't think he'd ever sleep again. Before he knew it, he'd dozed off, pressed up against the window.The jerk of the train as it pulled out of the station startled him awake.Tom sat up, rolling his shoulders and turning his head from side to side to loosen up muscles that had already started to go stiff from the odd position. He reached both hands high above his head and arched his back, letting out a soft little sigh at the burn. He was leaning back in his seat, contemplating whether or not he should try the Sudoku puzzle in the seat pocket in front of him, when he caught sight of the shadow that fell across his legs. He slowly turned toward the aisle, expecting to see one of the businessmen from the station. He should have known he wouldn't be that lucky.A Dandy sat in the aisle seat next to him, legs crossed politely, hands folded in his lap.Tom jumped, trying to press himself against the window in an effort to put distance between them. The vampire shook his head disdainfully, eyes narrowing as he took in Tom's appearance, especially the piercings in his nose and lip. Tom had to stop himself from reaching up and touching them, suddenly self conscious. He'd had the nose ring for over a year, but the lip piercing was new. It still hurt now and then, but he didn't exactly mind.Anything to separate himself from the clean lines and elegance of the Dandy gang."You're oblivious," the vampire said. "How did you ever survive Beckett's city when you were all-human?"Tom had nothing to say to that. He stared at the Dandy beside him, taking in his blond hair and blue eyes, his smart black suit, and recognizing him from the night before. Tom didn't know every Dandy in the city, but he'd seen enough of them around to be sure that this vampire was new in town. He had such an intense gaze. It made Tom think he should be afraid of the things this vampire could see."The sun will be up soon," Tom said after the silence between them stretched on for a moment too long. He looked around uneasily, but the other commuters were spread out in the car and no one would hear if he kept his voice low."I'm only going as far as the next station," the vampire replied. "Though your concern is touching." His hand hovered over his heart and he smiled a little, the expression mocking and hardly nice. "I would think you'd be eager to get rid of one of us."
"I just want to be left alone," Tom said softly, rubbing his sweaty palms frantically on the thighs of his jeans."Then maybe you should have thought of that before you gave yourself to a Dandy," the vampire said harshly. "You can't undo that, Thomas.""You know me but I don't know you. That's hardly polite," Tom said, trying to buy himself time, to delay whatever the vampire was there to do."You can call me Bryar, if it makes any difference," the vampire said with a small smile that told Tom he was being humoured for the moment. It would not last."Well, Bryar, I can't be the only one," he insisted, returning to their conversation."Of course not," Bryar scoffed. "But the others didn't live long once they'd made their choice.""So, it's that simple?" Tom demanded. "You could go from wanting to keep someone forever to agreeing to kill them that quickly?""Absolutely," Bryar replied."Do you have someone?" It was a stupid question for more than just the obvious reason. Not only was it impertinent - something a Dandy would not stand for - it was irrelevant. Whether or not this vampire had someone at his side wouldn't help Tom any. He also ran the risk of bringing up bad memories, of angering the thing in the seat beside him.The thing. Sometimes it surprised Tom how different his thinking had become."I wouldn't be stupid enough to let him get away," Bryar replied. Tom blinked twice, a little surprised that the vampire had even bothered to answer. He knew he should keep his mouth shut, that his smart ass comments would only get him in trouble like always, but he was unable to bite back his retort."You have to sleep sometime," he pointed out. He couldn't bring himself to regret it, not even when the vampire's eyes grew dark. He was discussing a human being, holding him against his will, and Tom couldn't just let that go."Yes, I do need sleep," Bryar agreed, his voice almost gleeful, as though he couldn't wait to continue. "But so does he. It’s beside the point, though. I don’t believe in keeping human pets - it's better to have a fledgling than a mortal. They're far less fragile and aren't so fickle.""Fickle?" Tom asked in disbelief. That made it sound as though he'd objected to something stupid, like an ex's hair colour or their laugh, instead of the slaughter of human beings. The insult stung more than Tom thought it would. Maybe he'd expected more of the man and, by extension, his associates."You broke your oath," Bryar said. The dark look was back in his eyes, and the fury there made Tom's hands shake. He wedged them under his thighs. "You ran away, and now that your city has changed hands, you stand to bring a heap of trouble to this one."While he'd known that running to Schecter's was the same thing as flipping off Mike and the others, the truth was that he hadn't thought he’d be allowed to stay. Because of that, he'd never really worried about what might happen down the road. He'd never even considered that leadership in the city might change. What exactly did that even mean? Was Beckett dead? Had he stepped down? Where did that leave Mike? Tom didn't know.He was confused, but it was clear that Bryar was waiting for some sort of response. Tom returned to the only thing he could think of, not caring that he sounded like a broken record."Schecter let me stay."Surely he would have considered all the angles before making his decision. Tom could remember the way people spoke of him, in whispered tones, with reverence that tempered the fear. He wasn't the kind of man to make a rash decision.The vampire was exasperated and barely holding onto his anger. "Yes, but was it worth it?" he asked. "How will you repay him for all he's done?"Tom blinked. He didn't know how to answer that. "How should I?" he asked."Keep your mouth shut," Bryar said, speaking slowly and emphasizing every word. "Brian Schecter's business is his own. His guests are his own. Do you understand?"Tom did, he'd have to be an idiot not to. Mike probably knew where he'd been, but he didn't have to know the circumstances. As far as anyone was concerned, Tom had managed to get lost in the vast city, one of the lucky ones who could go a lifetime without crossing paths with a vampire."Okay," Tom said after a moment."Good," Bryar replied. Tom watched him stand up, focusing on his every graceful movement, and did his best to bite back old memories, old feelings of desire. It seemed his body would take awhile longer to get the hint - all that beauty was bad. Dangerous. Evil. He kept telling himself that, over and over, and tried to ignore the sheer want that settled low in his belly.It was hardly his fault, he thought. His sense of self-preservation was hard at work, trying to make all of this easier. To make him want it again.It seemed his ability to rationalize was still as strong as ever. Tom wondered if he should be sickened by that, too.-*-Bryar stepped off the train, onto the platform, and shouldered past several commuters who were waiting to board. It was nearing five thirty; he could tell by the way the sky was growing lighter with every minute. He hurried, for once not caring about appearances or the scene he must be making. The station had entirely too many windows to be safe, but he moved with purpose, crossing the main terminal, heading for the underground parking garage and the long line of taxis he knew would be waiting there. He'd never make it back to city centre, to the safe house, but there were hotels nearby. They were hardly nice, not at all fitting for a Dandy of his rank, but Bryar could feel the warmth of the imminent sunrise and knew he couldn't afford to be picky.This wasn't the first time he'd cut it so close, but at least he'd had a reason the other times, an official order to explain why he'd been caught so far from shelter. Bryar slid into the back of the cab and asked for the closest hotel. He leaned back in the seat, affecting a calm demeanour, but he watched the sky with sharp eyes. The driver was smart, taking one look at Bryar's clothing, another at the dashboard clock, and pulling quickly away from the curb.If he found himself in the sunlight, he'd have no one to blame but himself. His instructions had been clear but, despite the loyalty that came with strong blood ties and genuine affection, he'd known all along that he'd disobey them.
"Shadow the boy. Make sure he gets onto the train."

It was simple. Bryar looked up from his book, marked his place with the tattered red ribbon set into the binding, and slowly got to his feet. Schecter didn't make idle requests, every move was thought out, every potential consequence weighed and measured. There was undoubtedly a reason behind it, but it was unlikely that Schecter would offer it. A leader didn't have to explain himself, merely give the orders.
"Is there a specific threat?" Bryar asked carefully, knowing it was the only question he could ask without sounding impertinent, as though he'd forgotten his place. He would not forget Cyrus, and the scene that had followed that particular outburst. Everyone had walked on eggshells for weeks after her death.
"No," Schecter replied, a small disapproving frown tugging at his lips, as though he could follow Bryar's thoughts and understand what he was really asking. "But I won't be accused of hindering his return."

"Is that likely?" Bryar asked, setting his book carefully onto the nearly-empty bookshelf against the wall. He'd brought only his favourite volumes and the shelf looked rather sad.

"Perhaps not, but I'm not going to take the chance," Schecter said. "Leadership has changed hands, and that means there's no reason for the border between our two cities to be as steadfast as it once was. I had good reason to keep William Beckett and his followers away; I have no such issues with Jon Walker. Thomas has obviously been summoned home. Someone is undoubtedly going to miss him before long, and I'd rather they not show up on my doorstep."

Bryar thought about it for a moment, going over what he knew of the mesmerist who'd been at Beckett's right hand. Competent, for sure, but with an unattractive ego. He just might be the sort to enjoy pushing the boundaries. He'd been orphaned young, given to Beckett to raise, and while most vampires might tread lightly given the situation, at least wait and see how the scene played out, Mike Carden was more likely to push his luck, especially if it would rebuild his tattered reputation.

Sometimes it still amazed Bryar how they could spend decades creating a reputation, only to have it ruined with one misstep.

Granted, it had been a major one, and a stupid one at that. Trusting humans to keep to their word was naive. It was best to change them right away, before they saw anything that would change their minds.

"He's booked on a 5 AM train, seat 7A," Schecter said. At Bryar's raised eyebrow, he cracked a smile. "Thomas is more of a kept boy than he thinks, and that's fine. Sometimes the illusion of freedom is all a person needs."

The words were familiar; Bryar recognized them from long ago and he was sure the parallel was deliberate. It so often was with someone like Brian Schecter.

"Tom... has some role to play," Schecter continued, almost tentatively. The look on his face told Bryar that he had his doubts about confiding so much, but there was obviously no way around it. He would never say a word otherwise: his motives were his own. "I've known it for years."

Years, plural. Tom hadn't been in the city that long. It didn't escape Bryar's notice.

"Really," Schecter said with a small smile. "You don't think it's coincidence that a boy from such a poor family would have the means to get here, do you? To fund his dream education... an education that is better here than anywhere else?"

"You would go to so much trouble?" Bryar asked. The thought was strangely disconcerting.

"I've always been a patron of the arts," Schecter said with a wicked smile. "Follow him," he ordered. "Make sure he gets on the train. We can't have him picked off by one of the Hoods. He'll have to pass through their territory to get to the station."

"I'll have one of the cars put on standby," Bryar said with a nod, moving toward the door to his apartment. "We'll leave as soon as he does."

"There's more." The two simple words stopped the vampire in his tracks. He turned, taking in the serious expression on the older vampire’s face. In that moment, Bryar knew that things had progressed beyond simply babysitting a human boy, making sure he didn't bump his head or skin his knee on his trip across town.

"I need you to visit Jon Walker. Play the envoy, be a good boy. Thomas is important, Robert. He -" Schecter stopped abruptly, unwilling to continue with his train of thought. "I need eyes in that house."

"Why not send Alex?" Bryar asked carefully.
"Alex will be so disappointed." Those words from earlier in the evening echoed in his head.
"Because he doesn't know," Schecter snapped. "And he won't, not until he needs to."
"Alright," Bryar said, hands raised to chest-level in a gesture of surrender. He shouldn't have asked, but if he needed to, he could make a case for looking out for a family member's best interest. Schecter was the one who'd brought up the connection in the first place, so it was hardly snooping. Perhaps for this very reason, the elder vampire shook his head tiredly.
"Just go, Robert," Schecter said with a sigh. "Make sure he gets there. I've booked you a flight for tomorrow evening. I'll make sure that someone meets you at the airport. Hopefully Thomas will still be alive at that point."

"Would they really kill him?" It was a stupid question. Were Bryar the one affected by the human's desertion, he knew exactly what he'd do.

"In that city, he belongs to Carden," Schecter said, using the mesmerist's name for the first time. "He can do whatever he wants."

The wording was off; Bryar picked up on it right away. It begged questions best left unasked, dangerous questions about how many rules had been broken and just how tangled Thomas Conrad had become with Schecter's family.

Bryar would keep an eye on the boy, then. There was little he could do to keep him alive, but he supposed he was meant to cause enough of a distraction to give the others something bigger to deal with.

"I'll let you know when I've landed," he said.

"Good. And do let me know if they treat you well," Schecter called over his shoulder as he slipped out the door. "Think of this as their probation period. I still haven't decided how much freedom they should have to come and go from this city."

It was the first time Bryar had ever heard someone propose treating other Dandies as nothing more than a Hood or a Punk. Even after all the trouble they'd caused, the trouble they stood to cause in the future, he still found it unsettling.
He'd scared the human and disregarded his orders, but Bryar found that he didn't care all that much. Thomas Conrad might be important to one of Schecter's future plans, but he was still capable of bringing ruin to Bryar's family.He would protect that at all costs. Even if it meant letting the human take what was coming to him.-*-Tom sat huddled against the window, watching as unfamiliar landscapes gave way to well-known landmarks. They were almost there, and every minute saw the sinking feeling in his stomach grow worse and worse. What would happen once he got off the train? His mind helpfully provided several scenarios, each one more horrible than the last. In the end, it was the uncertainty that got to him."Are you alright?"Tom turned to the girl who'd taken the seat next to him at the last station. She'd had several large bags that should have been checked beforehand, and she struggled to fit them in the overhead compartment and the small space at her feet. Tom hadn't helped; it was one last act of rebellion against the manners that had been painstakingly drilled into him."I'm fine," Tom said, not unfolding himself from his position against the window, but turning slightly to look over at her. She was young, maybe his age, with long brown hair and bright eyes. She had a bit of a frown on her face, but Tom could tell that she was one of those happy people, the ones who always had a smile and a hug for everyone they met.She was going to be eaten alive."Are you sure?" she pressed, leaning toward him. "You're looking kind of pale.""I'm fine," Tom repeated, emphasizing each word, glaring a little. The girl settled back in her seat.Any other time, Tom might have felt guilty about treating her that way, but he'd heard her prattling on when she'd first gotten on the train, going in depth about how she was starting college in the fall, how she was going down early to get settled first. She had a small bachelor apartment on the edge of town. Hood territory, Tom was sure of it. Maybe if he was mean enough, it would teach her not to talk to strangers. Maybe she'd live to see her first day of school.Tom ignored the girl, his eyes glued to the world outside as it rushed past his window. She didn't try to talk to him again.The train got in just after three in the afternoon. Tom scanned the platform, searched the faces of the people standing there, and tried to see if there was anything particularly off about any of them. No one looked all that threatening, but some people were particularly good actors. The vampires couldn't go out in daylight, but every safe house had some sort of human staff to take care of the day-to-day concerns. Maybe along with cleaning and fielding callers, they specialized in kidnapping, too."Sir?"The attendant's voice brought Tom's head away from the window. He looked around and saw that the train was empty, except for the two of them. How long had he sat there, lost in thought? Tom wasn't sure, and it scared him a little. He'd lost track of his surroundings once before, only to find himself in Hood territory. That night had changed everything, and he couldn't help but wish that he'd just paid attention, or maybe decided to buy his film from the corner store instead of the specialty shop on Robertson Avenue."Sorry, I -" Tom stopped abruptly, unsure of what, exactly, he was about to say. He shook his head to clear it and got to his feet, reaching into the overhead compartment to retrieve his backpack. It wasn't all that heavy; he hadn't seen the point in bringing much more than a change of clothes and his journal. He'd taken the journal out more than once, but it had always found its way back in and it left him feeling a little uneasy. There was a lot of himself in those pages. The thought of anyone else reading it - and they would, he knew - made him want to curl in on himself.The attendant led him off the train, and Tom squinted up into the sun. It was a nice day, the sky was clear and the sun shone brightly down on him. It wasn't fair. His grandmother was dead and he was here to plan a funeral. By all rights, it should be raining, storming. There should be huge puddles everywhere, and he should be cold, bone-chillingly cold. Tom supposed it was a sign of how screwed up his life was that the universe wouldn't even grant him that much.With every step, a little more of his sadness bled away, replaced with the kind of anger he'd never felt before. Not even when things had been really bad and all his friends had pulled away from him, when he'd been so alone, so lonely and self-destructive.His grandmother was dead. The only person who'd ever given a shit about him was gone.Tom didn't care that he probably had no right to be angry, that if there was any justice in the world, he'd feel guilty for the rest of his life. He wrapped the anger around himself and used it as a shield to keep himself on his feet, to take one step after another."Mr. Conrad?"It was the tone of it, the obvious question, that surprised him. Tom turned to see two men standing just behind him, dressed in neat, business-casual attire.
"I wish they'd just make up their minds," the vampire said around a tired sigh. "Dress up or dress down, there is no in-between."
Tom nearly looked around for Mike, but remembered at the last minute just how stupid that was. Not only was it broad daylight, but he was pretty sure that Mike Carden would have more pointed things to say when they were reunited."Can I help you?" Tom asked. Both cops – what else could they be? - were in their mid-thirties. They weren't uniformed officers, which made Tom think that they were fairly new to the job, if they were detective-grade. Wasn't that how it worked in the movies? You'd work the streets for awhile before making detective? Tom wasn't entirely sure; most of his knowledge came from old episodes of Law and Order. He'd never seen Briscoe in a uniform."I'm Detective Welles, we spoke on the phone. This is Detective Collins," the younger of the two, a tall, slim man with blond hair said. He held his hand out to shake, and Tom hesitated for a moment before accepting it. "We're here... as a courtesy, mostly."Courtesy. Tom wondered if they were really that desperate for something to do. He couldn't imagine that a couple of detectives would have much work, given that the leading cause of crime in the city was vampire-related. Tom wondered if the majority of their day was spent playing cards or reading magazines. It certainly couldn't be spent doing actual police work, not when it was detrimental to the people who really ran the department."Can't say I expected to see you here," Tom said carefully. It was the truth, of course. He'd figured it would be some nameless, uniformed officer who picked him up. He wasn't sure how he felt about it being a somewhat familiar person. This man had broken the news to him, had listened as he went into denial. It hadn't been Tom's most dignified hour, but maybe that could be excused, given the circumstances."Like I said, it's a courtesy," Detective Welles repeated."We'd like to talk to you," Detective Collins cut in, stopping Wells from continuing on in the sympathetic tone that left Tom feeling so unbalanced. "Will you come down to the station with us, Mr. Conrad?"So that's how it was going to go."Tom," Tom emphasized. He gestured toward the doors that led into the train station, the unspoken "Lead on, implied by his raised eyebrow. He followed, taking care to keep his steps even, not to fall behind. He wondered what ruse they'd use to keep him there until nightfall.
Tom had ridden in his fair share of police cars, both before and after he'd found himself shoved aside by all but abandoned by his friends. It was never a particularly fun experience, but he found himself wishing things were as simple as they'd been back then, even when it felt as though his world was ending. What were a few misdemeanour charges, or even one serious felony, compared to what was currently waiting for him?"Sorry about making you ride in the back," Welles said, twisting in his seat to smile apologetically. Tom barely flicked his gaze away from the window, but he looked up just long enough to keep from seeming overly rude."Not the first time I've done it," Tom said. "At least this time my hands aren't cuffed behind my back. Hurts the shoulders like a motherfucker.""I'll take your word for it," Collins said stiffly from the driver's seat. Tom thought about needling him, maybe pulling a surprised look and asking if Collins had seriously never spiced up his boring vanilla sex life with his own handcuffs, but in the end he let it go. Not out of a grudging show of respect for the cop - he'd never respected the profession before and he certainly wasn't about to now - but due to the sheer exhaustion that was settling into his bones. There was only so long a person could be terrified before it wiped him out completely.The rest of the short ride was spent in awkward silence. Tom waited patiently to be let out of the back of the car, and he dutifully followed the two detectives into the police station. They led him to a small office, Welles gesturing toward one of the thinly padded chairs in front of the nearest desk. This was obviously an office that both detectives shared. It was on the tip of Tom's tongue to ask who they'd pissed off to end up in such a shithole. Instead, he sunk down into the chair, his backpack balanced on his knees, and watched as the cops wheeled their chairs around the desks, closer to where he sat."We just want to brief you on the details," Welles said. Collins sat quietly next to him, legs crossed and hands folded against his knee. There was a plain, boring wedding band on his left hand. It caught the light and Tom found himself going into a trance just staring at it."The... details," he said after he'd shaken himself out of it."The details," Welles repeated. "We don't have a lot to go on; I'm not even going to lie about that. But this is a horrible thing that happened, Tom, and it has the potential to be an important case.""What?" Tom asked, confused. His hands tightened around the straps of his backpack, his blunt nails digging into his palms."The press loves cases like this," Collins supplied. "Elderly woman, killed in her own home...."Tom started looking around for somewhere to puke, the taste of bile strong in his mouth."Fuck, Steven!" Welles said, sounding scandalized and glaring at his partner. "What he means, Tom, is that this is a sensitive case. It could turn into a circus if the press finds out about it. Everyone worries when an elderly woman is killed - in her own home, at that."Tom could feel his eyes narrow, knew his jaw was set and that the look on his face could definitely not be considered friendly. Why are you saying this? he wanted to ask. Is this his idea of punishment, to make me think you actually care?"So, details," he said. "You wanted to share them? Go ahead." His voice was cold. He leaned back in his chair and watched the two detectives, waiting impatiently"Well, I suppose I should start with who found her," Welles began. "A woman named Ruby Granger came over when your grandmother missed bridge club at the senior's centre. Apparently, she'd never missed a game.""Tuesdays at noon," Tom murmured. The detective nodded, looking down at the small notebook he'd pulled from his pocket."That's right," Welles said. "The door was ajar and when Mrs. Granger came inside, she found your grandmother on the floor in the entryway. Her neck was broken.""What?" Tom asked sharply, leaning forward. He knocked his backpack off his lap and stared at the detectives with wide eyes. Collins was obviously gauging his reaction but Tom paid him no attention."Cause of death," Welles repeated. "Broken neck."Tom slumped back in his chair, pressing one hand against his forehead. A broken neck. Not a vampire, then. Could the world really be so fucked up that, of all the shit that could have happened, Tom should have worried about humans?"So, you're going to find out who did it?" Tom asked, his voice slightly muffled by the heel of his hand as he rubbed tiredly at his face."We're going to find out who did it," Welles echoed. Collins looked at his partner disapprovingly, and Tom figured they weren't supposed to actually make promises. He could understand why, but he had to admit that there was something like comfort in hearing the words."Thank you," he said. He meant it."Where will you be staying? Just so we can get hold of you if we need to?" Welles had unclipped the pen that was attached to the front of his notebook, holding it just above a fresh, blank page. Tom rattled off his grandmother's address and phone number. The detectives looked at each other for a moment and Tom realized that he'd never even stopped to wonder whether or not he'd be allowed to stay there. Didn't they cordon off crime scenes?"Okay," Collins said after a minute. "Do you want a ride back there?""No," Tom said, getting to his feet and retrieving his backpack from the floor. The last thing he wanted was to spend more time in the back of a squad car. "I have some stops to make," he continued. It was a lie, but the walk would do him good, help him get his head on straight. He could start calling funeral homes on the way.
Funerals, as it turned out, were fucking expensive. Tom closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his knuckles roughly across the back of his head. He thanked the woman on the other end of the line and looked down at the page he'd torn from his journal. He'd called four funeral homes, and the cheapest service he could get was almost $3, 000. Tom didn't have that kind of money, and he doubted his grandmother had it, either. Even if she did, it wouldn't do him any good. He couldn't just go into her account and get it; inheritance and things like that took time. Time that he didn't have.He looked up at the sky and frowned. It would be dark in a few hours. Funny, how he used to love the night.Tom crossed the street and stepped into a phone booth, reaching for a mangled phonebook bolted to a small wooden ledge. The book was scribbled in and missing whole sections, but the blue pages at the back were relatively intact. He flipped through them, looking for something that might prove useful. After ten minutes, he slammed the book shut and let it fall, bouncing on the chain that prevented Tom from throwing it into the road.He stood there, glaring at the passing cars and doing his best to control his breathing, to fight the stinging in his eyes. There was no one to help him, then. Some cities had municipal programs that offered grants to cover funeral costs, even if it wasn't much. In any other circumstance, Tom would have welcomed the return to normalcy. After all, it wasn't like things usually went his way.He hurried back to his grandmother's house after that, walking fast enough that it wasn't long before his thighs protested the exertion. The slight pain felt good, gave him something else to think about, something that wasn't Evelyn Conrad's smiling face. He refused to think about the vampires, and that didn't leave him much else to focus on. He'd been all over every inch of this city with his grandmother - as a child with their hands clasped firmly together, and as a teenager with her arm in his.The house hadn't changed at all in the year and a half since he'd been gone. Tom didn't know why he'd expected it to look any different; his grandmother hadn't done anything with it since he'd been a child. The shutters were the same shade of yellow, the tire swing was still in the front yard. Even the flowers were the same, white tulips across the front of the house and pink hyacinth around the oak tree in the yard. Tears stung his eyes as he made his way up the driveway, trailing his fingers along the old Buick parked in the lane. He'd learned to drive with that car, had been pulled over countless times for speeding in it. His brief foray into drunk driving had happened in someone else's, though. He hadn't been stupid enough to chance that in his grandmother's, not when he'd half-wanted, half-expected, to total it.No, Jacob deserved to have his shiny birthday present taken away.His grandmother had stood by him even after that. She wasn't quite so fickle with her love.Once inside the house, he was confronted with 8x10 prints lined up on the walls, each in a different, mismatched frame. They were his photos, some of which he'd taken before he left, but most of them prints he'd sent home. He'd mailed a package every two weeks, really nothing more than a few pictures he'd developed - some of which weren't even all that special - and a long letter outlining the things he was learning in his classes. He'd lie, of course, mention friends he didn't have, places he didn't go. It hurt to do it, but his grandmother had always been so happy to find those manila envelopes in her mailbox. She'd call him to say thank you, never staying long on the line because long distance was so expensive.Tom could always hear the smile in her voice and that alone would be enough for him to start planning his next lie, creating his next fake friend.It hadn't been all lies, though, not after he'd met Alex. He'd only mentioned him in the barest reference, though, wanting - needing - to keep that to himself until he was more certain of where things were heading. He hadn’t been afraid, though. It wasn't as though his grandmother would have judged him for it. She hadn't been angry about Jacob, after all - confused, yes, the product of a very different generation - but never angry.Alex... well, Alex was new, and while Tom really liked him, he knew almost nothing about him. Oh, he knew that Alex was 28, that he worked at a law firm and liked old movies, but all of that was superficial. He'd been waiting for the stuff that really mattered.The thought made him pause in his tracks. He'd never get any of that now.He wondered how upset Alex would be to get his e-mail. He had to admit, it was pretty shitty to break up with someone on the Internet, but it wasn't like he could have called or explained.It didn't matter, Tom told himself. It was over. Alex was safe and he wouldn't come looking (not that it was likely that he would, but Tom's e-mail would definitely quash any of those thoughts).Tom climbed the stairs, keeping his eyes forward and deliberately not looking at the line of school photos on the wall. He headed straight for the master bedroom, bypassing his own childhood room without even going in. There was a small lockbox in the closet where his grandmother kept all her important papers. He grabbed the key from her jewellery case and laughed quietly, sadly, to himself. She'd been hiding it there since before he'd come to live with her. She obviously hadn't been worried about him rifling through her things.The box held her financial records, bank statements and pension forms. She'd had little in the bank, and no life insurance to speak of. Though she'd once talked of planning for her own funeral, she'd never gotten around to doing it. Tom continued to flip through the rest of the papers, even though they weren't all that interesting. They were hers, and that was all that mattered.The phone rang shrilly, startling him from his thoughts. Tom looked over at it warily, wondering what he was supposed to say if it was someone calling for his grandmother. He waited a moment and when nothing particularly good came to mind, he sighed and answered it anyway."Mr. Conrad?" It was an unfamiliar voice"Yes?" Tom asked."This is Detective Carleton. Have I caught you at a bad time?"Tom had no idea what the cop expected a good time to be. "No," he said. "Now is fine.""Well, I'm told that you came down to the station to speak with Detectives Collins and Welles today, is that correct?" Carleton's voice was low and even, as though he had no difficulty in speaking with the grieving families of murder victims. Tom thought he sounded like a creep."They picked me up, actually," he replied. "But yes, I did speak with them.""I'm sorry to tell you this, Mr. Conrad, but they were working on incomplete information." The cop's voice changed then, aiming for sympathetic and missing by a mile."Incomplete information?" Tom asked carefully."You see, they hadn't yet been given the new report from the medical examiner. Your poor grandmother did die from a broken neck, but there were also contusions on her head, consistent with a fall down the stairs."Tom closed his eyes. The only sound he could hear for several long minutes was his blood rushing in his ears. His hands began to tremble and he took in a shaky breath. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked through the window, seeing the sun low in the sky, streaking orange and red across the horizon. Shift change. Of course."So you see," the Detective continued, "There really isn't a case here. It was just an unfortunate accident.""Of course," Tom said tightly. "Can you do me a favour, Detective Carleton?"The question threw the cop off and he was silent for a moment. "Yes?" he asked."Tell those Dandy fucks to kiss my fucking ass," Tom hissed. He slammed the phone down, not waiting to hear the detective's reply.He sat there for a moment, not moving, his eyes clenched shut. He should have known! The hot sting of tears was back but he refused to let them fall. Reaching out, he grabbed the phone and threw it at the wall, ripping the cord from the jack. The telephone, an ancient model that still had a rotary mechanism, cracked on impact, falling to the ground in three pieces. The dial rolled across the carpet, coming to rest near Tom's shoe."Goddamn it," he said, his throat feeling tight. He pushed himself up off the bed and was on his way out the door when he caught sight of something on the floor next to the nightstand. He smiled sadly and picked it up. It was a teddy bear, threadbare in places with a grape juice stain on his old, white shirt. A present for a grieving five year old, it had been given to him after his mother's death, when he'd come to live with Grandma Conrad. Timothy hadn't left his side for months.Tom tucked the bear under his arm and headed to his own bedroom.-*-It wasn't the sunset that woke Mike Carden that evening. He'd never been an early riser, not like the Butcher, or even Brendon. It was usually fully dark before he'd open his eyes and, for anyone else, that might have been a problem. City leaders had no use for enforcers who slept late, who hadn't even contemplated getting out of bed by the time they, themselves, were fully dressed and waiting for the last of the sun's rays to disappear. Mike made up for his this by providing the kind of services William Beckett couldn't get from anyone else - a sharp mind with cunning plans, a flawless system of informants, and city officials who were far too terrified to kick up a fuss. It was amazing how a few whispered words into the ear of a small child, or a spouse, could have a whole family fall in line. These things and more had made him a valuable asset despite his body's reluctance to wake in the evenings. It was a fact that he'd long ago come to accept, so it was incredibly disconcerting to open his eyes now and know, instinctively, that the sun was still high in the sky.It took him a moment to figure it out, but when he did, the vampire couldn't help the satisfied smile that stole across his face. There was a warm feeling spreading slowly through his body, concentrating low in his belly. It reminded him so much of warmth he didn't have anymore, of hands and lips and sweat-slick skin, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him. He sighed softly, eyes drifting shut once more, the better to savour sensations he hadn't felt in over a year. His own hands chased the feeling across his skin, sliding down his chest, under the burgundy sheet.He was hard already, had been even before he'd fully woken, and he moaned softly as his hand closed around his cock. He took his time, touching himself the way his boy used to, hand a little too loose, rhythm a little too slow. It had always been good with Tom - he had an earnestness about him, a look of total concentration that had always made Mike shake his head in fond amusement. Honestly, it was sex, not rocket science, but the boy had always made it good, despite his personal quirks.It would take awhile for him to come, but he didn't mind. Not everything had to be a race to the finish. He leaned back as he worked himself, closing his eyes and picturing a serious expression, teeth sunk into a lush bottom lip, and surprisingly strong, guitar-calloused fingertips.He did not think about a terrified heartbeat, trembling hands, or wide, wet eyes.When he was done, Mike wiped his hand across the bed sheet and turned toward the antique clock on the chest of drawers across the room. Five PM. Sunset wouldn't start for another two hours, but that was fine, he decided. There was plenty he had to do around here before he could welcome his wayward boy back in the manner that he deserved.Mike got out of bed and made his way to his walk-in closet, taking a moment to regard the racks of clothing and accessories. He took his time choosing what to wear, eventually deciding on a simple black suit with a crisp white shirt and black tie. It was hardly his most striking outfit, but it had significance: he'd been wearing it the first time he'd seen Tom.
As far as errands went, it was boring and beneath him. He sat at William Beckett's right hand; there was no reason for him to be collecting cash from ordinary humans. Though racketeering itself was an unseemly, dirty business, well below a Dandy's dignity, he did have to admit that humans only seemed to understand things when put in financial terms. Simply demanding loyalty would get them nowhere, but if they made the shop owners pay for the privilege, it was amazing how quickly they caught on. As for the police, they were a much more delicate matter. The Dandies needed something from them, something beyond the ability to hold fast to territorial lines. No, the Dandies required silence and a blind eye, and so police loyalty had to be bought instead of coerced. Mike would have much preferred to be taking care of that, but he'd been sent down to Maitland Avenue, to a bank known for its dodgy investments and their willingness to engage in laundering.

The message was simple: don't do business with the other gangs. The last thing the Dandies wanted were enemies with the same financial capabilities as them. An even playing field could prove disastrous.

It should have been routine. Later, Mike would wonder if Beckett had known there would be trouble, but he wouldn't really give the thought much weight. Beckett wasn't a Seer, and neither was anyone else in the city. It was coincidence that brought the two Hoods, nothing more. Well, coincidence and boundary lines. The bank was right on the edge of Hood territory, which is what made it so important. There was something to be said for stealing right from under their noses.

Mike recognized Travis McCoy immediately, but his companion was a tall, unfamiliar man, with yellow hair and a scruffy beard. He looked almost ridiculous next to Travis, the quintessential Hood. This young one was still too soft, too buttoned-up to properly fit into the uniform. Mike supposed he was yet another example of instinct failing to take over. Maybe he and Peter could form a club. He wondered how long it would be before the fledgling followed in Pete's footsteps. Somehow, he didn't see Travis tolerating that sort of behaviour.

Travis, it turned out, liked precision and order. He would have made a wonderful Dandy.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Travis demanded. Mike rescinded his earlier complement. What sort of greeting was that?

"Same as you, I'd imagine," Mike said. "This is a bank, after all."

"I really doubt that, Carden." Travis scoffed. Beside him, the fledgling stayed silent, watching the exchange with interested eyes. At least he was being well-trained, maybe that would make up for his sire's lack of forethought in turning him. Honestly, you couldn't just trust that the blood would fix everything. You had to vet the candidates first, make sure they were suitable. This one looked as though he belonged behind a piano, maybe even wearing a cardigan with a reindeer on it.

"Would you like to see my transaction receipt?" Mike asked. "Or will the wad of cash in my pocket satisfy you?" He pulled a roll of hundreds - payment from the bank manager - out of his pocket for a brief moment before putting it away again. Travis' eyes followed the movement suspiciously.

"I know what you're up to," he said. "This is your only warning. Stop fucking with our territory."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Travis, but aren't we on Maitland Avenue?" Mike asked innocently. "I seem to remember that being ours." He'd drawn the last set of maps himself; they hung in Beckett's sitting room.

"If Dandies keep messing with our business," Travis continued, as though Mike hadn't spoken, "there's going to be trouble,"

"Are you really thinking of causing a scene?" Mike asked, his tone slightly mocking. "Because that would be unfortunate, you know. More so for you than for us."

"What makes you think it'll just be us?" Travis asked, a smug smile spreading across his face. "You've been pissing people off left and right. The Punks have had just about enough, too."

Mike laughed. Judging by the dark look on Travis' face, it wasn't the desired reaction.

"You've overplayed your hand," he said after the last of the laughter finally died down. "Do you seriously expect us to believe that Hoods and Punks can get along for any length of time, let alone long enough to plan - and carry out - some sort of rebellion? And let's say that you actually do manage to accomplish this fantasy uprising. Who, exactly, is going to take over? Nature abhors a vacuum, Travis. Someone will have to fill the void."
"You underestimate us." It was the first time the fledgling had spoken and both Travis and Mike turned their attention toward him.Travis looked irritated, but he didn't censure his charge beyond a low, "Andrew." Mike supposed that would come later, in private."We're fully capable of planning and carrying out whatever uprising we want to," Andrew continued. "Not even the Punks are as brainless as you're making them out to be.""You're funny, little Hood," Mike said, pointing at the young one. "If they don't keep you, maybe we will. There's not nearly enough laughter around the house."He was expecting to be rushed, but he'd figured it would be Travis. Mike heard movement behind him and realized he'd been stupid enough to give the two Hoods in front of him all his attention. Years of training saw him keep his composure, his surprise barely registering in his eyes as he turned quickly, tilted his head the slightest bit to the left, and sent out his instructions.Stop!
The other vampire stopped in his tracks, nearly falling over at the abruptness of it.
Stay until I tell you otherwise."Well now, that's just rude," Mike said, hiding his anger behind a facade of deep disappointment. "And you wonder why we don't like you very much."
Travis did as Mike had expected, then, letting loose with a volley of punches and kicks, doing his best to knock Mike off his feet. He came close once or twice, but Mike had taken part in more skirmishes in his lifetime - both as a human and as a Dandy - that Travis wasn't able to keep the advantage for long. Whatever ground the Hood managed to gain was Mike's again soon enough. The young one, Andrew, tried to split Mike's attention, coming at him from the opposite side, but the Dandy made short work of him, knocking him head over heels, letting him roll across the pavement. The smell of vampire blood was strong in the air, sharp and unpalatable.

Nails caught Mike in the soft skin just under his jaw and he hissed, pulling away and nearly tripping on the curb. He struck out, hitting Travis in the face, feeling the flesh of his cheek give as it made contact with his teeth. Travis spat a mouthful of blood on the sidewalk, spared a sideways glance at Andrew, who was climbing slowly to his feet, and got ready to run at Mike again.

A quiet gasp stopped him in his tracks.

Almost in unison, the three vampires all turned toward the sound.

There was a boy standing at the intersection of Maitland and Robertson, watching them with wide eyes. His hair was just this side of too long and Mike was possessed with the uncontrollable urge to wrap it around his hand and pull. There was exhaustion in his face, and Mike thought he could recognize it for what it was. After all, he'd seen the same thing on his own face, all those years ago when he'd still been human. It was hard to constantly be at odds with the world around you, to feel as though you had to fight every minute of every day. He was beautiful, right down to the dark circles under his pretty blue eyes.
He didn't look afraid, more surprised than anything else. In Mike's experience that could mean one of two things - either he was suicidal or incredibly curious. Mike didn't think it was the first, not with the almost defiant set of his jaw, the straight line of his shoulders. No, this boy wanted to see how this all played out, and he didn't care that he had no place in it.Dandy sensibilities said that the boy was perfect, from the apparent chip on his shoulder, right down to the need to know at all costs that was radiating off him in waves. Mike didn't care about that so much as the way he was biting his bottom lip. He couldn't help it - he'd been taught to value pretty things, to take them for himself before anyone else could steal them away.
Judging by the look of glee on Travis' face, Mike's train of thought was far too easy to read.

"He's on our side," The Hood said with a smile.

"Not for long, he isn't," Mike retorted.

They might have been expecting him to use his talents on the boy, to have him run to Mike's side and cower behind him. They might even have expected for Mike to release his hold on the Hood behind him in order to do it. It was a sloppy assumption, proving that they either hadn't done their homework with respect to the Dandy power structure, or they'd somehow managed to confuse his abilities with Brendon's, and Mike couldn't help but feel rather insulted at that. He told himself to get over it, that there would be time to be irritated over the slight later. He had only a split second to decide whether it was worth the extra trouble he was about to heap on himself.
He took a good look at the boy, at the set of his shoulders, at the curiosity in his eyes, and he smiled. Yes, it was.Stay right where you are, the two of you.
It only took a moment for Travis and Andrew to realize what he'd done. They struggled against it, testing the strength of the invisible bonds that held them, but it was to no avail. Mike was stronger than they'd anticipated and they weren't going anywhere.

"Come here," Mike said softly, holding one hand out in offering. There was always the chance that he'd been wrong, that what he'd misread the boy's body language, attributed a personality, an entire back story to him that he didn't have, wasn't deserving of. There was a tense moment where he waited to be proven wrong.
He wasn't.The boy took a deep, steadying breath and slowly made his way to Mike's side, watching with incredible interest and maybe a bit of wariness. Good, that meant he was a smart boy, prepared for any eventuality. He wouldn't be, not really, but the fact that he thought he was made Mike want to smile.The boy didn't take the vampire's outstretched hand, but he stood close enough to take the sting out of the insult."What's your name?" the vampire asked."Tom," the boy replied.Thomas, Beckett would say. Mike wouldn't push it. After all, he himself went by a shortened form of his given name, a small remnant of his lower class upbringing.
Later that night, when Mike brought the boy back to the safe house, intent on laying him out across dark burgundy sheets, Beckett laughed at him, smiled at the boy, and said, "Mike, I sent you out to get money, though I suppose I can't fault you for wanting something shiny for yourself. Are we keeping him?"

"Oh, yes," Mike said with an answering smile of his own. The boy never took his eyes from the fine architecture of the sitting room, trying to take everything in all at once.
Tom had seemed so well suited for Dandy life, Mike thought as he took his time about choosing a hat. His inquisitive nature, his sharp eyes and even sharper tongue would help him fit in once he'd finally been turned, so long as he learned to rein them in while in the presence of his elders. The underlying hurt he was nursing was icing on the cake - it kept Tom at Mike's side, almost desperate in his need to find something else to take its place. Mike had never learned the cause of it - truth be told, he hadn't cared all that much - but he'd encouraged the attachment regardless.Maybe if he'd simply asked about it, things wouldn't have imploded in such a spectacular fashion. It was hardly his fault, as far as Mike was concerned. He couldn't help himself - Tom had accepted the mark willingly, more than once, even if it had been meant as a show for visiting envoys. He'd happily allowed himself to be shown off in Dandy circles, touched and petted, and he'd never shown any real misgivings about what he was giving up.He'd had some reservations, of course. Nothing too difficult to deal with, just the regular fears that all humans had when they saw the end of their mortal lives fast approaching. All Mike had to do was take the edge off some of those fears, keep Tom from worrying too much. It was ridiculously easy; Mike was nothing if not talented, and it was something that Tom would no doubt share in. Mike had seen it immediately: with every marking, he'd had to put a little more effort into using his gift on the boy, and Tom, by comparison, had even begun to influence the weaker-willed humans around him. It was unconscious, of course, but Mike had watched it all with sharp eyes, wondering how well Tom would take to his talent once he was turned. He imagined that it would happen very easily, that Tom would be strong, the envy of every slow-learning fledgling in the house. It made him proud.Mike worried a little when his gift stopped working on the boy entirely, and those fears had obviously been well-founded. In hindsight, maybe bringing Tom to their equivalent of a banquet hadn't been such a wonderful idea.It didn't matter.Mike finally settled a hat on his head and took a look at his reflection. Perfect. With a smile, he hurried from his suite, intent on finding Jon Walker and informing him of their new arrival.
He found Jon Walker seated in the parlour, speaking quietly to Nate about something of importance, if the fledgling's serious expression was any indication. Mike leaned in the doorway, impatiently waiting to be acknowledged, looking at the clock on the mantle and doing his best not to let his annoyance show. Depending on what his duties were for the night, it could be well past midnight before he was able to go out on his own."Thank you, Nate," Jon said after a moment, leaning forward to clasp the fledgling on the shoulder before tilting his head toward the doorway, encouraging him to leave. Nate looked a little worried, but he did a good job of masking the emotion. He kept glancing down at his hands and Mike wondered if his newfound talent worked on himself, if he could see his own emotions in bright swirls of colour. Mike supposed that yes, maybe he could, because the next time Nate looked down, he seemed much happier. By the time he slipped through the door, he was able to smile and nod as though nothing was the matter.Jon sighed and slowly stood up from the wingback chair by the heavy blackout curtains. As he came closer, Mike caught the scent of something slightly familiar, and he couldn't help the dark look that came over his face. Jon Walker smelled an awful lot like a human - like that boy, Spencer. It reminded Mike all too much of the last time he'd seen the kid, with Jon as they wandered down a street in a part of town they had no business being in. Mike had stood there defiantly, daring the new Dandy leader to ask what he was up to. Waltzing into the house uninvited had been another challenge, one Mike hadn't expected Jon to pass up. That Jon still hadn't mentioned it, three nights later, was kind of troubling.Everyone had their reasons. Mike wasn't sure he believed that Jon was actually giving him privacy, not when his allegiance to Beckett was common knowledge."That was interesting," Mike said slowly, gesturing toward the door that Nate had just passed through. He was obviously fishing for information, but it wasn't like he was trying to hide the fact. Mike was straightforward, if nothing else."Some of the Hoods have apparently taken an interest in him," Jon said. "Once is coincidence, twice a cause for concern."Mike agreed, but he wasn't ready to admit it."Going after fledglings," he scoffed. "Doesn't seem like Travis' style. Where's the fun in something easy?" Jon merely shrugged, unable to answer. Mike was surprised that Jon didn't call him out for insulting Nate, but then, what would he possibly say? Nate was young and he didn't have a fraction of the strength that the others did. Mike could easily make a case for having simply spoken the truth. He didn't think that even Jon, with his high ideals and desire for intra-gang harmony, would actually believe it, but that wasn't the point."Maybe not," Jon said carefully. "But people change, and that can sometimes make them dangerous.""Can't have it both ways, Walker," Mike said. "Either you want change or you don't.""It's not that easy and you know it," Jon replied. "There's no point in being difficult just for the sake of it."Mike disagreed. Sometimes being difficult was all you could do, given the circumstances. Until they changed, at least.And they would."You're up early," Jon said then, changing the subject so abruptly that it left Mike a little off balance. He supposed that was the point, though, and did his best to get himself together."There are preparations to be made," Mike said. "We'll have a guest later tonight.""Mmm, yes. I'm surprised you heard so quickly. Try to be civil, Carden. He's an envoy and bound to uphold Schecter's interests, but I'm sure that Bryar won't hesitate to have some fun at your expense," Jon said with a small smile. Mike blinked at him, momentarily struck by the almost mean twist of Jon's mouth. There was just enough of Nicholas Scimeca in that expression to remind Mike of the years Jon had spent at his side. Maybe there actually were limits to his patience, after all."Envoy?" Mike asked, cutting off his current train of thought and getting back to the more important issue at hand.Jon was quiet for a moment, running something over in his mind as he looked almost suspiciously at Mike. "Schecter is sending Robert Bryar to our city," he said slowly. "It was all very sudden, and he didn't even entertain the idea of having us send someone back.""So the borders of his city only work in one direction," Mike said. "That's not at all suspicious. What particular piece of information is he digging for?"Schecter was terrifyingly smart; he had to know how his actions would be interpreted. Either he really didn't have anything to hide, or he didn't care who figured it out. Mike wasn't sure which option he preferred.Jon tilted his head slightly to the left, once again regarding Mike in that same suspicious manner. He bristled under Jon's gaze."What did you do, Mike?" The use of his given name, something that Jon rarely did, was a deliberate ploy, meant to encourage some sort of trust between them, to create the illusion of friendship. It was ingenious, of course, something Mike would have done in a heartbeat. He was annoyed to find it used against him."What makes you think I invited him? I don’t have Brian fucking Schecter on speed dial," Mike snapped."That's not what I was getting at, and you know it," Jon said. "I expected him to take an interest in what happened here, but I didn't think it would be so quickly. Beckett has only been gone a few days and it's not like Schecter to rush. Something has forced his hand, and we should all be a little worried about that." Jon paused for an unnecessary breath. "You just said that we have a guest coming and that troubles me. I don't believe in coincidences, not when he’s concerned. Not with Tom, either."Mike looked sharply at Jon but didn't say a word. Could there really be a connection there? Yes, Tom had run straight to Schecter's city, but was there more to it than simply a split-second decision to flee? Mike didn't think so, he was sure he'd have noticed if anyone had contacted his boy. Still... Mike had been surprised to learn that Tom was living in the city, that he hadn't been killed as soon as he'd crossed the border. At the time, he'd put it down to Schecter's petty nature, that he'd give asylum to someone associated with William Beckett. Asylum, however, didn't extend to sending someone to keep an eye on things - if, indeed, that was Bryar's true purpose.Jon was right, though. It wasn't safe to trust to coincidence."I'll ask you again, Carden." Jon's eyes were dark, his voice sharp. Mike had no doubt that he was asserting all his stolen authority, that he would make Mike answer or suffer the consequences. The tone was all Nicholas, and in that moment, Mike Carden was a fledgling again, reprimanded by one of the most terrifying vampires he had ever known. He'd been so young; so lost, newborn and abandoned, the victim of a sire with a troubled mind. It wasn't his fault that he'd gone out in the middle of a pack of humans, so desperate and hungry. Afterward, Nicholas had passed him off to Beckett, a pet to groom into an ally....Mike blinked and the spell was broken. This wasn't Nicholas, Mike reminded himself. This was Jon Walker, and while that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous, it did mean that he was less capricious and therefore less frightening."What did you do?"I didn't do anything. The denial was right there on the tip of his tongue, all he had to do was fix Jon with a disdainful glare and open his mouth.He did, unmindful of the consequences for such rudeness, but what actually came out was unexpected. The words felt strange in his mouth. "My boy has been called home," he said.Jon's eyes closed momentarily, but his face was carefully blank when he opened them again. "Okay," he said. "And Tom is in the city right now?""I'm awake, aren't I?" Mike asked. "There's much to do," he added."You want the night to yourself?" Jon asked."Yes," Mike replied."No," Jon said firmly. "Bryar is all on you, Mike, this is your mess. You're going to meet him at the airport. You're going to smile and shake his hand, and you're going to be polite so that he doesn't have any reason to report back that his stay was less than hospitable.""And Tom?""You can go to him afterward," Jon said. "If Bryar is interested in him, we'll find out soon enough. Go make your preparations, there's still time until sunset."Mike didn't need to be told twice. He had a lot to think about, and the last thing he wanted was to do it around Jon.-*-Bryar lifted the shade on the window to his right and looked out over the wing of the small plane. Jon Walker's city - the thought still gave him a thrill - looked tiny from so high up. There was danger to be found on those streets, and a game that would have to be very well played. He and the others had left chaos in their wake, had deliberately upset the natural order of things, never once thinking that they'd have to return to the face what they'd done. Not while the fabric of the city was still being knit back together, at least. Bryar knew he'd have to return eventually - someone would have to keep an eye on Frank, and while that was Gerard's favourite activity of late, he did sometimes have trouble seeing more than just pretty eyes and a smirking mouth. Bryar, and even Mikey for that matter, would have no problem keeping less than genial vampires away - whether they were Dandy or not.Frank. Bryar liked him well enough, almost as much for his issues as in spite of them. He was happy in Gabriel's city, but he'd never be truly settled, not when he still felt the pull in his very bones. He was understandably confused, torn between where he wanted to be, and the two other places that refused to let him go: the city where he was turned and the one where he was raised. Some of the academics in Gabriel's gang had already taken an interest in him, whispering in dark corners about research and experimentation. Bryar had put an end to the first round of that, but he knew the issue would crop up again. That was fine; Gerard could deal with it himself. As much as Bryar would love to watch someone turn Frank loose on them, he knew that would never happen. Being rude to elders could only bring trouble, and Frank had dealt with enough of that in his life already.The plane began its descent but Bryar ignored the seatbelt sign. He closed the window shade and leaned back in his seat, momentarily closing his eyes. Yes, there would undoubtedly be danger in the city, both from Dandies loyal to Beckett as well as those outside the gang. The Punks and Hoods went without saying, but they were really nothing more than an annoyance at best. Neither gang had ever made much of a play against the Dandies, so they were really the least of Bryar's concerns. No, what really interested him were Pete and his little group of hunters. He could still see it, even weeks later: the look of anger on the young one's face, followed by desperation and finally resignation. He'd been so scared, a fear so strong he'd been choking on it.He'd projected so much that Bryar hadn't even had to work to catch the images: Pete's friends, dead while he watched; his guilt, so overwhelming that it pressed hard against his chest; the lonely years, stretching out ahead of him.It was hardly anything new, but Bryar never had been picky when it came to his entertainment.The images had stayed with him, though he had to admit that he'd never tried to shake them. Even now, he was replaying the scene, watching as Gerard marked each of the human hunters, effectively putting distance, barriers between them and Pete Wentz. There was a lot of loyalty there, so Bryar was confident that they'd stayed with him, but they'd never again truly be his. He wanted to find Pete's safe house again, to walk the perimeter with his every sense attuned to the young vampire inside, and see if Pete was still projecting as much as he'd been that night.He wondered how much worse it would be if Pete were to lose one of them for real. If, maybe, the dark-haired, blue-eyed one simply failed to come home one morning.... The redhead was no doubt dearer to Pete's heart, but there was nothing worse to be done to that one. Gerard had already, effectively, stolen him away. Killing him would only be a blessing in Pete's eyes.As the plane touched down roughly, Bryar made a face and opened his eyes. His own games would have to wait, of course. He had his orders, and though he wasn't entirely pleased with being turned into a glorified babysitter, he tried to focus on the opportunity for espionage, which was much less insulting to his rank and abilities. He knew Schecter had his reasons - he always did, and they were always left marvelling as his plans came together - but that didn't mean he had to particularly like his assigned role. Still, he would do it and do it well. He'd make Schecter - and Gabriel by extension - proud of him, even if he had been sent after a human who, by all rights, should have had little importance in their world.Brian Schecter did not love Tom Conrad - he had need of the human and this made him almost dangerous. Vampires were many things: fickle with their affection, flighty when it suited them, loyal to those who mattered, but they were definitely not the sort who revelled in weakness. To need something, and to acknowledge that need, was to give it power, to create a weakness to be exploited. Bryar didn't think that one simple human boy could really be Schecter's undoing, but that didn't stop him from being fiercely determined to make sure it didn't happen.He would play his part, watch not only the boy, but also the rest of the Dandy house, and make an executive decision if necessary. His priority was, and would forever be, his family. Damn all the rest."Mr. Bryar?"Having an attendant onboard might have seemed ridiculous, but Bryar had snacked on one more than once when he'd cut things a little too close. He looked up as his name was called and saw a pretty young woman dressed in blue, her brown hair braided neatly down her back."We've arrived," she continued with a smile.Bryar wondered if she was one of the trusted few, if she knew what he was. Would she struggle if he grabbed her now, or would she just tilt her head to the side and let him take what he wanted? Her heart was beating loudly, strongly, and for a moment he was possessed with so much want that he was tempted to find out.In the end, he merely nodded, rising gracefully from his seat and making his way to the door. He wondered who would be sent to meet him.
Bryar wasn't at all surprised to find Jon Walker standing on the tarmac, hands casually slipped into his pockets and a polite expression on his face. The new leader of the Dandy gang was really the only one who could have been at the head of the welcoming committee, considering that he was undoubtedly courting Schecter's favour. Bryar had met him once before, in better times, and knew him to be a sensible man, a good man, inasmuch as any vampire could be called that. The point was, Bryar had respect for Jon Walker, a genuine like that could very easily become affection, under the right circumstances. He wasn't all that free with his esteem but he wouldn't withhold it, not if it was earned through skill and loyalty. He looked forward to seeing whether or not that would happen.With Jon was the Butcher, a vampire who had always caught Bryar's interest. His reputation preceded him, fierce and terrifying, much like Bryar's own. He'd visited Gabriel's city on more than one occasion, had always cut a bloody swathe through the hunters and upstarts, all with a smile on his face. There'd been worry over the impulsive actions which surrounded Siska's turning, but as Bryar made his way down the stairs, onto the tarmac, he could see that spark of lazy awareness in the Butcher's eyes and knew he hadn't changed at all, that he was still the same sharp killer he'd always been.Brendon Urie stood next to the Butcher, hands down at his sides and a wary look on his face. He was young and so transparent, but Bryar was happy that he possessed enough self-awareness to know that any attempt at hiding his feelings would have fallen flat. Either that, or he honestly didn't care about insulting a visiting envoy. Bryar wasn't sure which option he preferred, though both took courage, he supposed. Even from this far away, he could smell traces of a human’s scent, which reminded the elder vampire of the boy Brendon had gone to such lengths to protect. He was still around, then, still alive. Bryar couldn't help but wonder what the hold-up was. He never did understand the desire to keep a human pet, not when they were such trouble.Trouble. Yes, there was Mike Carden, standing behind the others, a neutral expression on his face. Fitting that he would be there when he was the reason for the visit. It was always a shame to dislike another Dandy, particularly one of some skill, who might one day be called on for help, but the mesmerist was loyal to William Beckett and his newest plot had threatened plans far more important than his own. Did he even know what he'd done, the things he'd set in motion? Only time, and careful observation, would tell."Jon Walker," Bryar began. "You came to meet me yourself. I'm flattered." His hand hovered over his heart as he tilted his head slightly to the side. There was no way they could miss the sarcasm, but there was no way they weren't expecting it, either."I'm sure you are," Jon replied with a small, twisted smile that made Bryar want to laugh. This was the Jon Walker he remembered from years ago, unflappable by nature, until you'd crossed him. Then it was dangerous little smiles and eagle eyes following your every move. Bryar had no doubt about that."It was short notice," he said as he came closer, finally making his way to the little group assembled on the tarmac."Yes," Jon agreed. "I can't say that I expected you back so soon after the last time." There was suspicion there, the deep-seated kind that would be hard to shake. He was a good leader, then, not willing to let what he wanted, in this case Schecter's favour, damage what he was working so hard to keep together."I suppose I should apologize for that," Bryar said. "But you see, Gerard was incredibly curious...." It was an obvious lie, and Bryar dared Jon to call him on it."Of course. Gerard," he said slowly, drawing the name out into three syllables. His tone of voice was perfectly polite, nonchalant and almost uninterested, but Bryar caught something in the undercurrent regardless. There was knowledge there - real or imagined on Jon Walker's part - and it gave Bryar insight into how these Dandies would play their game. It seemed as though they intended to leave Bryar to his lies, give him just enough rope to hang himself.Bryar smiled. He could work with that."He was also wondering about that boy of yours," Bryar said. "Still breathing, then?""Yes," Jon said, losing the lazy air about him. His hands came out of his pocket and a more critical look came over his face as he searched for hidden meaning in the comment. It wasn't always a smart thing to bring up someone's pet, so Bryar did what he could to soothe ruffled feathers, making it clear that there'd been nothing but random curiosity to the question."Brendon, of course, still has his human." He flicked a look over to the younger mesmerist and couldn't help but shake his head a little. Up close, he reeked of Ryan, as though he'd spent a rather considerable amount of time wrapped around him. Had he been stupid enough to sleep next to him? Bryar had thought better of him than that. For his part, Brendon didn't bother to look guilty. He looked irritated at having been called out, but there was defiance in his eyes. Bryar was instantly reminded of the way he'd stood in that park, arguing with Frank and later Gerard. His loyalty, once won, would be incredible. He filed that note away for later."And Butcher, how is Siska coming along?" Bryar asked, turning toward him."Incredibly well, considering all the shit you brought to Pete Wentz's doorstep," Butcher said with a sweet smile that barely concealed his anger. Interesting. There would be no help from that quarter, at least. Bryar would have to find out why."Yes, we're all happy and together again." The comment was unexpected, given who'd said it. After the transparency of his visit, Bryar hadn't expected Mike Carden of all people to give him such an opening. He took it anyway."Funny, how you should say that," he remarked.Jon cut him off before he could continue. Pity, he'd have enjoyed trying to dim the defiant gaze in Carden's eyes."Perhaps we should move this conversation somewhere else," he suggested. There was a car nearby, waiting to take them, presumably, back to the safe house. There were many places Bryar wanted to go, but the safe house wasn't one of them, not yet. There were streets to get reacquainted with, hunters to track (he did love tracing their genealogy when he wasn't picking them off the tree), and fun to be had. It wouldn't even be shirking his duties - if Carden was here, being smart-mouthed, there was no way that he'd found Tom. Bryar supposed he'd been made to play a dutiful part of the welcoming committee before he could go out on the hunt."That, or we could go our separate ways. I'm sure you all have other duties to attend to." He looked meaningfully at Carden when he said that, and didn't miss the dark look that came over the younger vampire's face."That we do," Jon replied. "Besides, I'm sure you're eager to see the results of your handiwork. Gerard did pull you out of the city rather quickly the last time you were here."There it was, the edge in his voice, the hint of warning hidden beneath the civility. Bryar was possessed with the urge to needle him, to watch the mask unravel. He held his tongue."What makes you think I don't already know?" Bryar asked, the lie coming easily. Best to keep everyone on their toes, watch how they handled the stress."In which case, I won't even have to warn you," Jon said. "And I won't be responsible for telling Schecter of your death. It would probably kill him, you know, losing another one to Wentz."Bryar laughed. "You over estimate his skill," he said. "Wentz might be good, but he's best at killing fledglings. Stupid ones."The Butcher growled a little at that, before catching himself and suppressing the reaction. Jon's hand hovered near his wrist, but he ultimately decided against touching him. Interesting. It looked like his night of aimless wandering had suddenly found a mission."Play your games," Jon said. He reached into his suit coat and pulled out a small white card and handed it over. Bryar looked down at it and saw an address typed neatly in the centre. "The safe house. Death by sunlight is just undignified.""That it is," Bryar said, slipping the card into his pocket. He watched as the others nodded politely in his direction and filed off, heading for the sedan parked not far away. Once the car was nothing more than a speck that he could barely see, he looked back over his shoulder and caught sight of the plane behind him, the door still standing open.He reconsidered the flight attendant.-*-The house was small, old, much the same as the one Mike had grown up in. He didn't think this one was from that time period, though - the neighbourhood was old but probably missed that particular era by a decade or two. Knowing that didn't stop it from raising memories that were much better buried. His mortal life hadn't been all that happy, but he'd gotten by alright. Life had been spent looking after other people - his mother, brother, sister - and there'd been no time to dwell on the poverty, the struggle. He simply did what he had to, until one day when all of that had been taken away. A blessing and a curse, Mike thought. Yes, he'd been taken from that life, but he'd never forgotten it. Or the people he'd left behind.Tom should be happy that there was no one for him to abandon.Mike stood at the end of the cracked asphalt driveway and stared at the tiny house. Children these days were always complaining about space. His entire family had lived in a single room, but Mike had trouble seeing Tom growing up here, in this small building with its microscopic bedrooms. He'd been a hellraiser, Mike knew, getting into trouble but always able to find his way out again. He supposed a sweet smile and an actual, honest talent could do anything for a boy like him. Evelyn Conrad had several of Tom's photographs on her wall. She hadn't even taken it personally when her grandson always refused to visit.Mike scowled and made his way up the driveway, kicking at the tulips near the front step. White petals fluttered to the ground but Mike paid them no attention. He paused in front of the door, not hesitating so much as wondering what would happen when he reached for the handle. Evelyn had issued the invitation, but she was dead now. Her grandson was inside - the owner of the dwelling, according to the dead woman's will. Had the barrier gone back up? The boy belonged to Mike, tied by blood and empty promises, but there was nothing in any of the books about a situation such as this one. He reached out and grasped the knob, throwing the door open easily. Tom hadn't even locked it.Of course not. He'd known Mike was coming.The stairs creaked a little as Mike made his way to the second floor, not bothering to hide his presence. He didn't look at the smiling photos mounted on the wall above the stairs; he'd already been over every inch of the house, the old woman acting as his guide. She'd prattled on, and though Mike had ignored her, it was clear that she was proud of her grandson's achievements, particularly in getting accepted to that school when he'd applied so late that his paperwork should never have been considered in the first place.There was more than a little meddling involved in that, Mike thought. The knowledge was useless. It wasn't as though he could come out and accuse anyone.The connection between them was so strong after a year and a half of nothing, and Mike used it, allowed it to tug him along to where the boy was. His childhood bedroom was little more than a closet. The twin bed shoved up against one wall took up much of the space, and a battered desk took up most of what was left. A small bag sat on the floor near the door, open as though someone had recently rooted around inside. There were clothes inside, a pair of jeans and a few shirts, but no sign of a camera. A quick sweep of the room confirmed it. Tom hadn't brought his camera home with him. He also hadn't brought much in the way of clothing, so he either expected this to be a short trip, or he didn't expect to live long. Mike supposed that both options were kind of the same.Tom wasn't arrogant. He could bitch with the best of them, he had a quick tongue, and he could be fierce when angered, but he didn't have an inflated sense of self-importance. He was always acutely aware of what was at stake.He was curled up in the small bed, knees drawn to his chest and a thin pillow in his arms. Mike moved slowly toward him, not wanting to wake him yet. His hair was too long, almost shaggy in its appearance. His nose and lip were pierced as well, and he wore faded jeans with rips near the pockets, and an old, stretched out t-shirt. He was the complete opposite of the boy Mike had groomed, the opposite of a Dandy. Mike's mouth twisted at that, but he wasn't entirely surprised. The boy had run away, after all, right to the doorstep of Mike's enemy. Mike refused to believe that was coincidence. He wondered how Tom had learned of that place.It could wait, though. The vampire took off his hat and set it on the bed next to the sleeping boy before leaning back against the desk and just looking as much as he felt like.
The boy was exhausted; Mike knew that much, even if he hadn't spent two hours watching him sleeping. Tom usually moved a lot in his sleep, sprawling across the bed, twisting the bedclothes around his body. He hadn't moved a muscle in all the time Mike had been there, though he had mumbled sleepily to himself. Watching him again had been a novelty, something Mike hadn't realized he'd missed, but after awhile it began to grate on his nerves. He looked around and found a small stack of old baseball cards in the top drawer of the desk. An old blue rubber band was looped around, holding them together. It broke when Mike unwound it, snapping against his fingers. He dropped it on the floor and shuffled through the cards. He didn't know any of the players, had no use for such knowledge now, though he might have at one time.The cards were worn, with rounded edges and crease marks, hardly worth keeping for sentimental value, let alone monetary. Mike put one between his index and middle fingers and flicked it across the room. It landed on Tom's pillow. He slept on. Cards two, three, and four all landed next to his body, but five hit his forehead. Six, his nose. Seven hit his brow, and Tom's eyelashes fluttered open. He blinked for a moment, trying to bring the room into focus. Mike knew the instant Tom realized he wasn't alone. The sleepy looseness of his body was gone and a fine tremor took hold of his hands."Rise and shine," Mike said with a smile. "Looks like you've overslept."Tom moved slowly as he pulled himself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall with his knees drawn up. He watched Mike warily, seemingly confused as to why he was just sitting there. Mike didn't blame him; he, himself, wasn't entirely sure. He could almost hear Beckett's voice in his head, lecturing him about consequences and unacceptable behaviour.He didn't know if it referred to himself or to Tom."Mike -" Tom began, but it was clear that he had no idea what to say. Mike let him flounder for a bit before rescuing him."It's incredibly rude not to say goodbye, Thomas," he said. Maybe it wasn't so much a rescue as a taunt, but it stopped the boy from looking like a fish, so the mission was accomplished regardless."Well, Michael, if I'd tried to do that, there wouldn't have been a goodbye at all," Tom pointed out."Yes, and do you know why that is?" Mike asked, flinging the rest of the baseball cards at the bed. "Because you made a decision, Tom. A serious one.""I changed my mind," Tom ground out. "I’m not the only one who ever did that!""Think again," Mike snapped. "No one in this city, with their very long memories, can ever remember this happening. Congratulations, boy, you're special."Mike let the words sink in for a moment. Tom's eyes widened a little and the vampire smiled. Good, he recognized the reference."Not special," Mike said quickly, doing his best to keep his voice even as he watched the human not far away, trying to decide between two different boxes of film. His hobby was cute, Mike thought he'd let Tom keep it. Mike liked to watch him work.
"Yes," Beckett agreed, nodding a little and watching as Tom finally made his choice and grabbed two more small green boxes from the rack. "Special does garner too much outside interest, doesn't it? Never a good thing, that."

"No," Mike said. "It isn't."
They stared at each other for a moment, neither willing to look away first. Mike had to admit that this wasn't how he'd pictured their reunion."I didn't think anything of it, at first," Mike said. "Just that you were running late. You were always too attached to your mortal life, as much as you hated the way everyone had turned against you, shunned you for something you had no control over. Humans are so very narrow minded, aren't they?"Tom shrugged a little but kept silent. He fiddled with one of the baseball cards, tugging on the ends. He never did know what to do with his hands when he was nervous. His gaze dropped to his lap."But then you weren't just a little bit late, you didn't show up at all, and I started to worry."Tom looked up sharply at that."Don't give me that look," Mike said. "We are perfectly capable of worry. You'd be a fool not to think so."An image of Brendon rose in his mind, the look on his face when his boy was so very messed up. Another: the Butcher this time, forced to move more quickly than was prudent in order to keep the boy who'd caught his eye. Even Jon Walker, no matter how much Mike hated him, had felt that same worry. He'd hidden it well, but it was obvious now that the story had come out, how he'd sent his human away, disowned him to keep him safe. Mike would ask safe from whom? except he knew the answer to that. As much as he owed to William Beckett, as much as he'd kept quiet about, he'd never been blind to his actions. He'd just known better than to say anything."The other gangs have always been very good at targeting pretty humans alone on the streets. They'd have been stupid to wilfully go after someone who was marked, or someone we'd even shown vague interest in - we have the Butcher to thank for that - but it's not hard to whisper a few words to a hunter and get them to do the dirty work. I couldn't feel you anymore, so I figured someone would find you in a ditch in the morning. Imagine my surprise when your grandmother told me all about that school of yours, the one that accepted you incredibly quickly, well after the application deadline.""You talked to her?" Tom asked suspiciously."She was quite a conversationalist," Mike drawled. "A little stupid, though, since she invited me right in that first night. Talked about you for hours, I didn't even have to make her.""You -" Tom paused again, trying to get a hold of what he wanted to say. "You were here more than once.""She was more useful alive than dead," Mike said honestly. "A fount of information. Like I said, she loved to talk.""I don't believe you," Tom said, shaking his head."She had a blue teapot, fine china that she brought out when company came over. And she always had a plate of sweets on the table. All of your favourites, apparently. Strawberry tarts, chocolate cake, molasses cookies. You never ate any of that with me, so how else would I know?" Mike smiled at the pallor in Tom's face. No doubt he was picturing Mike in the shabby living room, teacup and saucer in one hand as he waved off the food with the other. The image was almost funny, but it was real enough. She'd been an incredible resource, full of all the things Mike hadn't had a clue about.He'd known Tom better in those eighteen months than he had in the four they'd been together."How did you learn about the school, Tom?" Mike asked. "Why there?""Um," Tom said, rubbing at the back of his head as he tried to recover from the things Mike had just revealed. "They sent me an offer of admissions a month or so earlier. I didn't tell anyone, didn't think it was a good idea. I didn't even reply to it.""But you kept it," Mike said."Of course I did," Tom said defensively. "How often does someone see your work on the goddamn Internet and decide to offer you a full fucking ride like that? It made me feel...." he trailed off."Yes?" Mike pressed."Worth something," Tom said finally. "Something good.""You haven't answered the question, not really," Mike said, sidestepping Tom's emotional issues for something more important. "Why there? What made you think I wouldn't find you?""I heard someone talking, at the house," Tom admitted. "Bad blood, they said. The school... it was safe.""Did you meet with any vampires while you were there?" Mike asked sharply."No," Tom replied quickly. Too quickly."That's surprising," Mike said. "Because Brian Schecter rules his city with an iron fist. He's not the kind to let a marked human just wander around unchecked. He is, however, the kind who would think it was funny to let you stay."And maybe go a little farther, Mike thought. The offer of admissions troubled him, but he kept it to himself. There was no use in voicing it until he had a better grasp of the game they was playing."I said I didn't see him," Tom said, raising his voice. "I lived in a dorm and I rarely left the campus.""And they just happened to save you a space," Mike said. "Even when you didn't reply for over a month.""Yes," Tom said, looking almost confused. Good, Mike wanted him off-balance."Did you just show up on their doorstep, Tom?""Yes." His voice was shaky as realization sunk in. This was not normal, he'd just been too grateful to see that.Grateful to get away from him. It made something inside Mike bristle."Were you planning on ever coming home?" He shouldn't have asked the question. Not only could no good possibly come of it, but the distraction would give Tom time to recover, make him less likely to slip up and tell the truth about the circumstances that saw him seek refuge so far away.Tom blinked. "No," he said, his voice strong, less confused. He met Mike's eyes with a steady gaze and refused to look away."Well, then," Mike said angrily, lashing out in the only way he knew how. "It's a good thing I killed your grandmother, isn't it?"Tom sat there for a moment, mouth open in shock. He hadn't expected that."You fuck," Tom said softly. He recovered swiftly, pulling his anger around himself to keep the hurt at bay. Mike had always admired that about Tom, though he'd never thought it would be used against him."So, you want to know what I did over there?" he demanded, eyes flashing as he got to his feet. He crossed the tiny room, angry and seemingly unafraid as he leaned in. "His name was Alex. He was so fucking good, so warm. Kept me right at his side without any trouble, I promise you. He never had to worry about me running away. I stayed with him a hell of a lot longer than I did with you. I'd still be there with him right now if you hadn't felt the need to kill an old woman. What's wrong, didn't want a fight?"Mike moved far too quickly for Tom to track the movement. In the blink of an eye, he had the boy face down on the desk, both arms pinned behind his back. It would be so easy to push his arms up a little too high, to break the bone and make him hurt. Tom struggled, and Mike did his best to hold onto his temper. And to ignore what, exactly, had finally caused him to lose it.Alex."Let me go! Get off me!" Tom continued to struggle but he couldn't get out of Mike's grasp. The vampire allowed him to continue, to work the adrenaline out of his system, but it eventually came to the point where if he kept it up, he'd end up breaking his own arm."You just don't know when to quit, Tom," Mike hissed, leaning over to speak directly into the boy's ear. "This could have been a hell of a lot more pleasant, but you just had to keep talking, didn't you?""It's the truth," Tom snarled. "You were always so fond of that! Except when it comes to the people I'm fucking, apparently." He kicked out, catching Mike's shin. He wasn't wearing shoes, but the blow landed hard enough that it would have hurt another human. Mike twisted Tom's arm up higher. Tom's words caught in his throat and he groaned at the strain. It didn't break, but his back arched and he went up on his toes in an effort to relieve some of the pressure. It was nice to know that Mike could inflict as much hurt as Tom himself could.He didn't think too much about that. It was never pleasant to realize you'd accidentally given someone that much power over you.What would Beckett say?"I'm going to let you up. You're going to get your shoes and you're going to walk downstairs and out the front door. There's a car waiting, and you aren't going to give me any trouble. You're going to get in and be a good boy. Aren't you?" Mike asked."Fuck you," Tom spat.He wished, not for the first time, that his mesmerism still worked on the kid. It was his own fault, he knew. He should never have been so greedy, shouldn't have marked him so often. He wondered, briefly, if Tom's own gift had gotten stronger over the last year and a half, if he'd even realized it was there."Want to know your other option, Tom?" Mike asked, his voice almost conversational, though he was seething inside. "I could kill you right here. And after that, I can pack my bags and go find Alex."Tom stopped struggling at that."Schecter's feud was with Beckett, and he's gone now. The border is open again." It was an exaggeration, but Tom didn't know that. "It won't be that difficult to find your dear Alex, I assure you," Mike continued. "Once I track him down, I'm not going to make it quick for him, I'm afraid. I'll bleed him dry and make sure he knows it's because you just had to keep pushing.""Let me up," Tom said, going limp in Mike's grasp."Good choice," Mike said, stepping back. "I'm sure Alex would be grateful.""Don't," Tom snapped, issuing a clear warning despite the position he'd found himself in. "Don't even say his name to me.""Then be good," Mike said simply.He watched as Tom slipped on a pair of hideous sandals and then, with a hand planted firmly on the small of Tom's back, Mike led him out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the front door.-*-Tom took even, measured steps, his back perfectly straight in a show of good posture that would have made his grandmother weep with joy. He gripped the railing on the stairs with his left hand, fingers curling painfully tight around the rough surface with its far too many layers of paint. There were cracks along the underside, places where the paint had chipped away, and the soft pads of Tom's fingertips caught on their sharp edges. He barely felt it as it sliced through deep enough to bleed, to leave a sticky trail along the white railing. Part of him wanted to look back, to see the contrast and preserve it. Broken Heart, he'd call it. Proof of Life.Not for long, it would seem. Not with where they were going.Tom didn't allow himself to look back as he stepped through the front door. There was no point in remembering the countless times he'd run in or out of that house, shouting hello or goodbye, or I love you. That part of his life was over now, but he'd be okay, he told himself. If he'd learned anything while he was away, it was that nothing, no one, could take his memories from him.Tom was unsurprised to find a dark sedan parked at the curb. It was all sleek lines and polished paint, the kind of thing that seemed to attract all vampires, regardless of rank or gang. In another lifetime, Tom would have wondered at it all, laughed and teased Mike about being part magpie. As it was, he just opened the passenger door and sat stiffly in his seat. He didn't bother with the belt; Mike had waited eighteen months, he wasn't likely to risk Tom's life to reckless driving at this point.Mike slammed the door and Tom jumped a little. His face went red at that. So much for stoic silence and dignity."There have been changes since you left," Mike said after several minutes of silence. The car slowed at a stop sign before continuing through the intersection. Tom began to rethink the seatbelt.There was a pause as the vampire waited for Tom to acknowledge what he'd said. Tom stayed silent, partially out of rebellion but mostly because everything changed and the Dandies were no exception."You'll see when you get there," Mike continued when he realized that Tom wasn't likely to answer. The rest of the drive was spent in awkward silence. Tom stared straight ahead, hands folded in his lap, trying to ignore the growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. How often had he made this trip in the past? More times than he could count, but he'd never been this scared, not even that first night as he'd stared with wide eyes at the vampire beside him, trying to reorder his world view to fit this new piece of information.The Dandy house was still gorgeous, still the epitome of everything he'd ever wanted as a child: sprawling, well-tended, rich. It took his breath away even now.Mike rolled down his window and punched in the security code for the gate before driving through. That was new, they usually left the cars on the road for someone else to dispose of. Bringing the car to the house made a certain kind of sense, though. Mike wasn't about to take the chance that Tom would run. Tom would have been offended at that - he'd given his word, after all - but that didn't mean much, apparently. He'd broken it once before, but things were different now. He'd practically sworn on Alex's life, and he wasn't about to do anything to endanger him.It took Tom three tries to get his door open, but he managed it before Mike got to the passenger side. Tom sat there for a moment, taking deep breaths of fresh air, so good after the stuffy 'new-car scent' of the sedan. Movement in Tom's peripheral vision saw him bolt to his feet, side-stepping clumsily to keep himself out of arms reach of the vampire. They stared at each other then, two feet of space and eighteen months of freedom separating them."Let's go, Tom," Mike said finally.Tom didn't say anything to that, just forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, to focus on the steps as he made his way up, on the ornate door as he closed the distance to it. He paused on the doorstep, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. He knew he was stalling. He also knew that it was stupid. Reaching out, Tom closed his fingers around the handle and threw the door open, unmindful of the excessive force he used. The door hit the wall, the sound of crumbling plaster loud in the suddenly silent entry hall.As he crossed the threshold, the boy made a decision. Thomas Conrad was gone, left outside on the porch along with the old life he'd led, the one where his days revolved around the camera in his hands and the incredible things he'd see through the lens. He was dead and gone, just like the old woman. Just like the young man back home would be if this didn't work.Alex.Tom allowed himself to say the name once more, to see his face and his wicked smile, before pushing it all away.He'd lived a double life before, hiding one aspect of himself from anyone with curious eyes and worried thoughts. He could do it again, even if the only person he was hiding from was himself.Tom straightened his shoulders and looked around the room with a critical gaze, taking in as much as he could in the short time he knew he was allotted. The foyer had been redone since he was last there, the walls now a rich yellow that set off the polished mahogany floors. Painted columns framed the entryway to the small parlour on the left. Tom could see the room clearly from where he stood by the door. Nothing in there had changed. It sent a shiver down his spine.
It took him a few minutes to realize that he was being presented for approval. Mike was careful about it, but once Tom caught on, he wondered how he'd managed to miss it when they first came in. This man was important, his decision was everything. Tom got the feeling that he was the only constant in this strange place, that this strange world revolved around him and his whims.
Only it didn't, because he was gone now. Tom hadn't really believed it when Mike told him, but there was no denying that William Beckett was nowhere to be found.There were other vampires in the house, each making their way toward the foyer to see about the commotion. There were a few faces that Tom didn't know, fledglings most likely, and a few that he did recognize. There was the Butcher, one hand pressed possessively against the back of one of the unfamiliar vampires, a shaky, pale boy who looked no older than Tom himself. He was injured, leaning heavily on his sire, watching Tom with tired, but sharp, eyes.Quinn was standing at the end of the hall, clearly surprised at what he saw. Lacey was with him, dressed as impeccably as ever. A human girl, a servant Tom vaguely remembered, was peeking out over Lacey's shoulder, her hand on his arm. That was inappropriate, Tom thought. You didn't fuck with the house humans. It wasn't safe.Tom was frowning at her, trying to telegraph his thoughts her way (You're expendable, he isn't!), when movement to his right caught his attention. He looked over and froze like a deer in headlights, shocked at the familiar face, the amusement in the vampire's blue, blue eyes. Something surged in his chest, scaring him, shaming him when he realized just what it was. Hope had no place here. Bryar was going to make sure Tom stayed quiet; he wasn't going to save him.Not that Tom needed saving. He'd agreed to this, after all."Our guest."Tom turned toward the voice and saw Jon Walker on the stairs. He had one hand on the railing and he regarded Tom with a curious glance. The expression shifted to something harder as he looked just a little farther back, no doubt at Mike. The new leader of the Dandy gang struck a carefully casual pose on the staircase, one hand resting gently on the neck of a human standing two steps below him, fingers curved across the boy's throat."So much noise, were you all raised by wolves?" It was Brendon. Tom tore his eyes away from the curious boy and watched as the vampire came down the stairs, stopping where Jon stood partway down. He was pulling a waif-thin boy behind him, one who was rolling his eyes in fond exasperation. Brendon fit the boy against him and looked down at Tom, eyebrows raised in surprise.Christ, they were just kids, barely out of high school. Did they have any idea what they were doing, what they were giving up? They should be home with their families, playing board games, or on the phone with their friends, bitching about girls, or boys, or both. They were going to die, and they were going to kill, and they didn't even know. There was no way that they understood what was happening, not when they were both standing there, entirely too close to the vampires who would take everything away from them."Thomas," Jon said. "Welcome home." His boy looked sharply at him when he spoke, but Jon ran a hand down his arm, quieting whatever questions he wanted to ask.The other boy had an awareness to his gaze as he looked critically at Tom. The older boy toyed with the idea that he was taking in Tom's stance, the distance between him and Mike, the tension in the room. This kid was smarter than Tom had given him credit for, bolder for sure. He pulled away from Brendon and moved down the stairs, stopping beside his friend. Brendon frowned but didn't stop him. The kid wasn't on a leash, then, was allowed to do things that most Dandies would consider rude.That didn't make it better. Things could change in the blink of an eye. Tom himself was proof of that."You know where to go," Mike said. His voice was flat, giving nothing away. Tom was tempted turn to him, to search his face for any hint of what he was actually feeling, but he resisted the urge. He squared his shoulders and took a step toward the stairs.Bryar moved behind him, crossing to the other side of the room. Tom looked over at him, but the vampire paid him no attention, more focused on the others around them. He was gauging their reactions, Tom realized. Bryar frowned at both Lacey and Quinn, and Tom desperately wanted to look over, to see what had caused it. He didn't, though, just turned back to the staircase, to the two vampires and the kids who stood with them. Such a waste.Or was it?Tom took a step toward the stairs and made them a promise. He didn't know how long he had, but he'd make it his mission to make them see. He wasn't stupid enough to think he could send them to Schecter - Bryar's presence there underscored that, reminded Tom uncomfortably of their conversation on the train - but there had to be somewhere they could go. He'd just have to scare them, lay it out in excruciating detail.Tom made his way slowly, steadily, up the stairs, pausing only long enough to fix the blue-eyed one with a glare so dark that the kid took an involuntary step backward. Brendon’s boy was there immediately, stepping in front of his friend and blocking him from view. Tom admired that protective streak. He just wished the kid would use it for himself instead."Jon," Tom said, nodding at the vampire as he passed him. It was impertinent to address the leader of the gang so familiarly, but Tom hardly had a frame of reference to draw from. "Brendon.""Well, that was unexpected," Brendon said loudly."Only if you haven't been paying attention," Bryar remarked.As much as Tom wanted to stay, to listen in, he kept walking. He didn't stop until he reached the second floor, third door on the left.-*-Jon didn't have to look at Ryan to know he was staring at Bryar with wary eyes, the protective air he'd put on for Tom's benefit stripped away the moment he recognized the other vampire's voice. Bryar leaned casually against the wall, looking up at the stairs with a smile on his face, his eyes clearly amused at the human's expense. Ryan's heart was beating quickly, though the deep breaths he kept pulling in were clearly meant to calm his nerves. It wasn't working, and with every passing moment, Bryar's smile grew wider, more delighted. The boy was afraid, most likely projecting those fears for the Deimos to pick up. Jon didn't blame him - Robert Bryar's last visit hadn't exactly gone smoothly where Ryan was concerned.From where he stood, Jon could feel Brendon's anger, every muscle so tense that his body was practically shaking with it. Jon reacted without thinking, splaying a hand between Brendon's shoulder blades and pushing him forward, down to the same step as the two boys."Take them home, Brendon," he said.Brendon took a step toward the railing, his hands unclenching only long enough to wrap around the polished wood, to make it creak with the force of his anger. It was a stupid fledgling move, to disregard an order, and annoyance flared quick and hot in Jon's chest. He forced himself to keep it in check, even after Brendon began to speak."Shouldn't you be off somewhere, endangering someone else's boy?" he asked, with a pointed look at the Butcher before turning back to the envoy."That... isn't so polite," Bryar remarked. "Jon Walker, do you let all your people get away with such disrespect?""Even you have to admit that he does have a point," Jon replied casually. He moved closer to Brendon then, reaching out and clasping tightly to his shoulder, digging his fingers into the soft muscle near his neck. "But we're all grown ups here, aren't we? That means we're moving on, and Brendon is going to bring the boys home. Ryan's tired. Aren't you?" He turned toward the boy, whose eyes were still trained on Bryar. It took a moment for him to look over at Jon, but he nodded with a quick, jerky movement."It's late," he said softly."So put him to bed, Brendon," Jon said. His meaning was clear - some of the others laughed quietly, Ryan blushed and looked uncomfortable - but Jon didn't give it a second thought. It was the fastest, easiest way to dismiss Brendon without seeming to give into Bryar. It wouldn't do to give him a completely free pass. Brendon would have to learn to control his outbursts in the future; Jon doubted that he'd be able to juggle everyone's issues and eventually something would have to give."Come on," Brendon said quietly, wrapping his fingers around one of Ryan's slim wrists. He tugged him forward and the boy reached back for Spencer, lacing their fingers together and pulling him along, too. Jon watched them go, holding an unnecessary breath until the door closed behind them. All was silent for a moment before Bryar laughed quietly to himself."So much drama," he said, shaking his head slightly."Yes," Jon replied tersely. "Schecter always did have a sense of humour; it's nice to see that he hasn't lost it over the years. There's no way this reunion could have possibly gone differently, but at least it was educational.""How so?" Bryar asked."Thomas recognized you," Jon said. His smile was sharp as he looked from Bryar to Carden, who still stood near the door. It was perhaps unwise to share the thought so soon, but there would be more difficult conversations before the night was out, and Jon would take whatever advantage he could get.Bryar looked incredibly unimpressed, but Jon ignored him for the moment. It was obvious from the start that he'd been sent either to spy or to protect something, some truth or valuable piece of information, but maybe things were even more complicated than that. Jon sighed. He had enough to deal with on his own, the last thing he needed was more of Schecter's meddling."I have something to say to that," Carden said, taking a half-step forward. His eyes were dark, angry. He was spoiling for a fight and Jon made his way swiftly down the stairs, intent on putting a stop to it or at least tempering Carden's reactions. This mess required a delicate hand. No one had ever mistaken Carden for having one."Not to me, you don't," Bryar said. He pushed away from the wall and made his way toward the door, not in the least bit intimidated by the mesmerist. Jon supposed he had no reason to be - Carden was considerably younger, and Bryar was a visiting envoy. No matter the insult, he'd get safe passage from the city. They could never afford to truly anger either Schecter or Gabriel, and that afforded Bryar even more leeway than a visitor usually received.Carden opened his mouth to protest, but Jon cut in smoothly."It can wait," he said. "What I have to say, however, cannot." Carden fixed Jon with a dark look, but the elder vampire merely inclined his head toward the parlour. "The rest of you should all find something to do," he said pointedly.No one was brave enough to try Jon's patience. The foyer cleared out immediately, leaving Carden and Jon staring at one another."Why are you covering for him?" Carden demanded. "You know as well as I do that he's up to something.""Of course he is," Jon said, exasperated. "This is a test, Mike. Not only of how permissive I'm prepared to be with all of you, but also in how far we're willing to go to protect our interests.""Exactly!" Carden exclaimed, raising his voice far too loudly for Jon's liking."Do you think for one minute that Schecter isn't doing the exact same thing?" Jon asked. "Bryar might belong to Gabriel, but Tom recognized him, which means there are questions that we need to be asking. Bryar can keep out of sight if he wants to, so how much time did Tom spend at, or near, the Dandy safe house? Furthermore, anyone could have sent anyone to keep an eye on us, so why Bryar? What message is he sending with this? What is his interest in Tom?"The other vampire was quiet for a moment, absorbing it all. Jon wanted to breathe a sigh of relief when he realized that he'd gotten through to him."Okay," he said after awhile. "You have a point.""I have many points," Jon said. "And I'm about to make another one.""Of course," Carden said flatly."What do you plan to do with Tom?" Jon asked. He slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and watched as a wary look came over Mike's features. He didn't want to have this conversation, but there was more to it than that. Jon realized with a start that Carden himself had no idea what he was going to do. He might not have been known for his delicacy or finesse, but he wasn't a stupid man. He certainly knew how to pull a plan together, how to make contingencies and examine things from every possible angle, so why was he suddenly at a loss?"He's home," Carden said simply. That didn't actually answer the question and Jon just shook his head."Yes, I saw that. I was standing on the stairs when he tried to intimidate Spencer - which, I'll add, will not be happening again." Carden snorted a little, an indelicate, un-Dandy like sound. Jon tried a different track. "Your loyalty to Beckett... does it extend to repeating his mistakes?""Excuse me?" Carden demanded."Mike," Jon said, patience strained. "What do you think is going to happen if you turn that boy? He doesn't want it, he's going to fight it. We lucked out with Siska and the Butcher, whether it was instinct or something else that smoothed the transition, I don't know, but he could have become another Peter Wentz. Do we have to worry about Tom now, too?"Carden wasn't entirely sure of what to say to that."Pete Wentz was fucked up long before Beckett got to him," he said after a moment. "Tom is not Pete."For a moment, Jon thought about stopping him, just reaching out and grabbing his sleeve to pull him back. He'd be well within his rights to do it - their conversation was hardly over, Carden's answers had hardly been suitable - but in the end, he let the mesmerist go. Jon knew how to choose his moment.-*-Brendon slid into the driver's seat of Carden's car, which was still idling in front of the front steps of the safe house. He thought darkly of Beckett and his rule about cars on Dandy property. They were ugly, he'd said. They ruined the aesthetic of the house. He'd never have allowed Carden to get away with bringing one right up to the door, no matter what the circumstances. Brendon almost wished Beckett were still around. True, the punishment wouldn't have anything to do with whatever game the other mesmerist was currently playing, but it would make Brendon feel marginally better.He'd known from the beginning that Bryar would be trouble, but he'd hoped to keep him away from Ryan, or to at least keep any run-ins semi-private. It wasn't right to scare him in front of half the gang, to make him seem weak when he was really anything but. Maybe that's what annoyed Brendon most of all.There'd been whispers over the last year or so, stories circulating about just how Tom had managed to disappear. Brendon hadn't given them much thought at first - as much of a filthy gossip as he was, he knew very well that half the stories he told didn't have a shred of truth - but maybe he should have paid attention. Tom had been with Schecter, and it was more than just making fun of Carden, it had to be if Bryar was here, sniffing around. Why Tom? Was there some specific reason, or had he just been chosen random?If not Tom, would he have taken Ryan, if Gerard and Bryar had mentioned him? Some of the others didn't understand Brendon's obsession. They looked at the skinny kid and saw poverty and frailty. Imperfection. Brendon saw heart and loyalty, a quiet strength that let him get through the day. Those qualities would only grow stronger after he was turned, Brendon knew. Anyone with half a brain should be able to see it.Schecter had more than half a brain.Brendon threw the car into gear and pulled away from the steps with a squeal of tires. Thinking that would get him nowhere."Brendon?" Ryan asked, clicking his seatbelt into place and wrapping long, thin fingers around the nylon. Brendon didn't reply, just raised a hand to ward off any comments or questions. His anger was simmering too close to the surface, his troubled thoughts demanding more attention than he wanted to give them. It would be far too easy to snap at the boy in his frustration.Brendon drove in silence, pushing the sedan well over the speed limit and taking corners far too quickly. Stop signs were nothing more than a suggestion, though he did slow for red lights. He could hear Spencer shuffling a little in the backseat, breathing quickly as he watched the landscape fly past his window, but Ryan sat quietly in the passenger seat, relaxed despite the dangerous driving. He'd seen Brendon's moods before, had grown more accustomed to them over the time they'd been together.So very different than those first few terrifying days, Brendon thought. He reached out and settled one hand on Ryan's knee, squeezing, digging his fingers into tight, well-washed denim."Can I ask a question now, Caveman?" Ryan asked. Spencer snorted in the backseat."Not yet," Brendon said. He took a corner sharper than he intended, the back of the car fishtailing a little. The boys were thrown against the doors, but neither of them complained beyond rubbing at sore heads and elbows or, in Ryan's case, offering a pointed look and a raised eyebrow.Brendon drove straight to the Smith home, throwing the car into park on the street, blocking the driveway completely. He didn't know if Spencer's parents were home or not, but he didn't really care if they needed access to their drive."Last stop, boys," Brendon said, throwing open his door. Ryan gave him a look but unbuckled his seatbelt regardless. Spencer scrambled out of the car and made such a fuss, Brendon was surprised he didn't kiss the ground."Does he always drive like that?" he whispered to Ryan."No, sometimes he's reckless," Ryan replied, leading the way to the house.No one was home when they got inside, for which Brendon was happy. It would be simple to ensure their privacy, but with his black mood, he was likely to give too strong a suggestion. He suspected that Spencer enjoyed having parents whose minds weren't completely broken.Brendon placed a hand low on Ryan's back and led him toward the stairs."What are you doing?" Ryan asked, tripping on the first step. Brendon steadied him with a hand on his arm."Putting you to bed," Brendon replied."Brendon -" Ryan protested, twisting painfully around to share a look with Spencer."Oh, please," Brendon said. "It's not like I expect you to stay there once I'm gone, but just humour me."Ryan stopped fighting him, allowing himself to be moved along for the time being. Ryan was a smart boy; he knew when to pick his battles. Brendon liked to think he'd taught him that good things could come from humouring Brendon on occasion.Spencer turned in the opposite direction once they reached the top of the stairs, fixing Ryan with a stern look and a muttered threat about having sex in his guestroom. ("I will fuck in your actual bed, Ross. Twice. And I will not change the sheets.")Brendon could have easily pointed out that a) it wasn't his guestroom and b) there was nothing he could do to actually stop them, but he wasn't all that interested in needling Spencer.Brendon didn't actually feel like having sex, either. There was something to be said for methodically stripping Ryan down, and pulling back the covers of a bed that might as well just be Ryan’s, given how often he slept in it. It gave Brendon something else to focus on for a few moments, and all thoughts of Schecter and Bryar, of taboos and complicated problems, disappeared as his hands met warm, supple skin. He curled up beside the boy on the narrow bed."So, can I ask questions now?" Ryan asked, stretching a little under the quilt. He tucked one hand beneath his head and traced the fine stitches on the blanket with the other. He had a look of determination on his face. Brendon could refuse to answer, he could even say that Dandy business should stay among Dandies, but he knew that Ryan wasn't likely to give up so easily. He never did, when he wanted something."That depends on the questions," Brendon said carefully. There were some things Ryan didn't have to worry about. That was Brendon's job."Who was that guy? The one who came in with Carden?""Tom," Brendon said. A flash of annoyance came over Ryan's face. Of course, he'd heard Jon say his name. "Tom belongs to Carden. Like you belong to me."Ryan's mouth twisted."And like Spencer belongs to Jon," Brendon pressed. Ryan still didn't like that, but there was no sense in denying it. Not when it was apparently so easy to spirit away the humans who did."'Welcome home,'" Ryan said."Tom... was gone for quite some time," Brendon said carefully. He paused, wondering how much was safe to tell. He didn't think Ryan would get any ideas, they were far past the stage where Ryan was skittish and angry. He didn't think the boy was that good an actor, not when Brendon could hear the beating of his heart, could smell how much he enjoyed being laid out with Brendon beside him. "He ran away."Ryan's shock was palpable. "Wow," he said."There's a city, up North," Brendon continued. "It was closed to us. Schecter... it was Beckett's punishment, really, but anyone close to Beckett was fair game. Tom's been there for the last year and a half.""Why did he come back?" Ryan asked. Brendon shook his head. That was the question. Someone might know, but they hadn't shared the information with him. "He's angry," Ryan said softly. "He's not here because he wants to be."Brendon thought back to the dark glare on the staircase. No, Tom wasn't there by choice. That meant he was capable of anything, really. He had nothing to lose."I don't want you around the house if you don't have to be there," Brendon said, running a finger down Ryan's bare shoulder. He got lost in the contrasts between their skin, found himself jolted out of it when Ryan shivered. "Bryar's there, but also Tom. It isn't safe. I want you to stay away from him.""Okay," Ryan said easily."I'm serious," Brendon insisted. "You're not to be alone with him.""I said okay," Ryan repeated. He reached out and traced Brendon's jaw, fingers moving up over his ear and into his hair. Brendon let himself be pulled down, let Ryan lick into his mouth, and only vaguely registered the fact that it seemed entirely too much like a diversionary tactic.-*-The suite hadn't changed at all in the time that he'd been gone. It was both comforting and unsettling at the same time. At least there was something familiar - the sleek blue sofa in the lounge, the rows of books (some of which were even his), the curtains over the French doors leading out to the balcony. At the same time, it was strange to be standing in a place that was so untouched when he himself felt so different. It was hard to think back to the naive kid he'd been, the one who'd loved it there and couldn't wait to make the move permanent.Tom walked to the French doors and pushed the curtains aside, digging his fingers into the lush blackout fabric as he peered out into the darkness. There were floodlights around the Dandy property, more to deter human criminals than to keep the vampires from stumbling across the grounds. He didn't know if they were intended to have the added bonus of keeping the house staff safe. Probably not - they were disposable, after all. The vampires would never run out of desperate hangers-on, kids or even adults with sharp eyes and imaginations that allowed them to believe some of the whispered gossip they'd hear in clubs or on the streets. Tom wondered how often the staff had changed since he'd been gone. He'd only seen one person so far, and he'd recognized her. Maybe the others were still around, too.Did that make them lucky?Forcing his fingers to unclench, Tom let go of the curtains and threw the doors open. A strong breeze blew in, throwing his hair around his head. It was long, way past stylishly shaggy. He'd loved being able to grow it out, to watch as outside appearances changed to match the new person he'd become. Unconsciously, his hand came up and skimmed the ring in his nose, the one in his lip. His lip twinged, the flesh around the piercing not at all happy to be touched. The sharp ache felt kind of nice.With a sigh, he stepped out onto the balcony, half-sitting on the railing, watching as something moved in the darkness outside. He squinted a little, trying to make out the dark little lump as it chased something, moving closer to a pool of light from the flood lamps.It was a cat. Tom shook his head."It belongs to Siska. The Butcher's fledgling."The voice startled Tom so badly that he nearly pitched himself over the balcony railing. Strong hands steadied him, allowing him to slide his feet to the ground and regain his balance. Tom tensed at that, but Mike didn't try anything, just stepped away as soon as Tom was able to stand on his own."There's another one around here, somewhere."It took Tom a moment to figure out that Mike was still talking about cats. Tom shrugged with a jerky motion and wrapped his arms around himself before realizing that it sent the wrong message. He dropped them back to his sides."We're the talk of the house, it seems," Mike said, moving around Tom to lean against the railing. "There hasn't been this much excitement in awhile.""I don't care," Tom said."Of course, Bryar tends to cause a stir wherever he goes," Mike continued, ignoring Tom's statement. "The last time he was here, he almost killed Brendon's boy."Tom's head came up at that, but he didn't say anything."He likes to plot, he and his friends. We have him to thank for Jon's coup, in a round-about way," Mike's tone was conversational, as though they were discussing the weather."There's something you want to ask," Tom said sharply."There's a lot of things I want to ask," Mike replied. "I'm just skeptical about whether or not I'll get a truthful answer. You've already told more lies than I can count tonight.""Self-preservation," Tom said. "I finally learned what it is.""Oh, you already had that," Mike drawled. "It was misplaced for a few months, while you were busy getting drunk every night and angry at the world for hating little fags with pretty mouths, but it came back eventually. Right around the time you let me take you home and show you another way to live, another way to get back at them. You see, revenge doesn't work if you're the only one hurting, Tom. We've had this conversation already.""Yeah," Tom said. "We did. But we also had another conversation, one where you said you'd stay away from him if I came back here without kicking up a fuss."There was no need to explain which him Tom was referring to. He clenched his jaw and tried to take deep, even breaths. It wasn't fair, he'd never be able to hide behind this new persona, this new Tom, if Mike could make him think of that other life so easily. Tom wasn't even sure that it had been Mike's intention to bring it up, though it was likely. There were too many hurt feelings, too much tattered pride, for things to be completely accidental."I'll keep my word," Mike said. "I'm capable of that."Tom snorted at that, and he knew immediately that it was the wrong reaction. The anger in the vampire's face was dark, terrifying, much worse than anything Tom had seen in the past. He kept his hands to himself, though, for which Tom was ridiculously grateful."Don't you even dare," Mike hissed. "I never lied to you. I never hid what I am or what this life is about.""You did," Tom said softly, hating himself for how afraid his voice sounded. It was hard to be brave when there was so much anger directed at him. "Those people... you never said it was like that. They didn't have to be so scared.""Did you think we would ask them politely to spare a pint?" Mike demanded. "I live on human blood, Tom. I'm a fucking vampire.""I know that!" Tom yelled. He'd never been that stupid, that naive, no matter how much he might have romanticized it in his fucked up head. "But there are ways to make it better for them. I heard people say it!""It's hard to lie to them when there are eight other people being fed from in the same room," Mike said, sighing deeply, almost wearily."Then why do it?" Tom asked. "It doesn't have to be that way.""And if I told you they were the scum of human society, child rapists and murderers? Would that make it any better?" Mike asked."Were they?" Tom asked warily."How should I know? They didn't apply for the position," Mike replied. "But you can feed off that if it makes you happy. Nate likes blonds; Michael's developed a thing for girls with blue eyes. It's a preference just like any other - you can work around it.""I don't want to work around it!" Tom snapped. "I don't want it at all!""Yeah, Brendon's boy says the same thing," Mike scoffed.Tom took note of that, filed it away and tried to settle his feeling of all-out fucking joy at the revelation."Brendon thinks it's his dirty little secret, but we all know about it. Urie's an open book when it comes to that kid. It doesn't matter, though, because do you know what's going to happen in the end, Tom? Brendon's going to get tired of waiting, and Ryan's going to take what's given to him. He'll wake up happy because instinct will take over and he won't have any of the stupid worries he has right now. Life will go on."Tom pictured the boy on the stairs, the one who seemed to have more freedom than anyone in his position should rightfully have, with a countdown hanging over his head. Tom’s resolve grew that much stronger. He had to do something. Maybe if he could get through to Ryan, he'd take the other kid and run."That your answer for everything? Instinct?" Tom asked."Yes," Mike replied, pushing away from the railing and heading back inside."What about Pete?" The words stopped Mike in the doorway."Pete Wentz is in a category all of his own," the vampire said simply. Tom supposed that was right, in a way. He didn't know much about Wentz, just what he'd picked up around the house, and from Mike's vague warnings, but it was enough to know he was a sore spot for all the Dandies."So what happens now?" Tom forced himself to ask. Mike was back inside, moving aimlessly around the lounge, picking things up and putting them back down again. He was quiet for several long minutes, almost as though he had no idea how to answer the question."You'll stay here," Mike finally said. "That door will be locked during the day, just in case the house staff isn't as trustworthy as we think they are." In case you're not as trustworthy hung in the air between them. "In the evenings, you'll have the run of the house. There's always someone here, after all, so it's hardly a risk to let you wander."For some reason, Tom hadn't expected that much... leniency. He thought back to the boy - Ryan - even though their situations weren't alike at all."And you?" Tom asked, giving voice to something that bothered him more than a little."I'm not stupid, Tom - I won't be sleeping anywhere near you. I happen to like this life." He smiled a little, the expression unsettling Tom more than he wanted to admit. He turned then, making his way to the door. He pulled a key ring from his pocket and shuffled through the three keys until he found the one he was looking for. The lock on the suite door was a double cylinder deadbolt, with a keyhole on both sides. It didn't take long before Tom realized what he was doing."Wait!" he blurted. "It's night! You said I'd be allowed out!""So you can talk to Bryar and get your stories straight? Not likely, Tom. Not tonight." Mike opened the door to the suite and fit his key into the outside cylinder. "Tonight you can sit tight. Someone will be along to feed you."If Tom flinched when the key turned, he was glad that no one was around to see it.
He spent the rest of the night on the balcony, straining to hear whatever little snippets of conversation floated out from the other suites. It wasn't much, just some laughter, scraps of mockery, and sex from the rooms next door, but around four he caught the sounds of urgent whispers. There was someone on the balcony above him, pleading in frustration for someone to just pay attention. Tom didn't recognize the voices, but he held completely still, his back pressed against the doorway, making himself as small as possible on the off chance that someone would know he was there. He wasn't able to make out actual words, nothing beyond, "Listen!" and "isolated", before the vampires moved back into the third floor suite to continue their argument.He fell asleep out there, sometime before the grandfather clock in the lounge struck five, curled up in the corner between the house and the railing. His back ached when he finally woke, the sun high in the sky, casting a red glow against his closed eyelids. Tom groaned as he straightened up, stretching his stiff muscles and rubbing at his itchy eyes. His body felt sluggish, his mind wrapped in cotton wool. He'd gotten more sleep during late night study sessions, or all-nighters spent frantically searching for inspiration or trying to use his camera to capture life the way he saw it with his actual eyes.Tom was smiling, shaking his head as he thought of his eleven AM class with Professor Grierson and how he'd always make it just in the nick of time to drop off his work. Eventually the professor had come to expect it and would wait a few extra minutes before closing the door to the classroom.
"Tell me, Tom, did you fall asleep before - or after - sun up this morning?" he asked with a small smile.

"Staying up past six would just be irresponsible, Sir," Tom replied innocently. "I have a scholarship to keep."
The smile slid from Tom's face and he stared at his shoes. That was gone; he had to stop thinking about it. Maybe that would get easier in time.The sound of a key sliding into the lock on the suite's door brought Tom's head up suddenly. He bolted from his spot on the balcony, making his way to the middle of the lounge, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. It had to be one of the house staff, but which one? Tom wasn't sure if he wanted it to be one of his former friends or not.As the young woman pushed open the door, Tom sighed and realized he'd actually been hoping for a stranger."Greta," Tom said."They told me you came back," Greta said with a small smile. She had trouble keeping the expression together, as though she didn't know whether to be happy or sad about that. Tom thought of asking her about it but kept it to himself, instead."Came back makes it sound like this was my decision," Tom said. He watched Greta set a tray carefully down on a polished wood coffee table that stood in front of the blue sofa. "I came back to bury my grandmother."It was said to shock her and Greta didn't disappoint. She gasped, a hand coming to her mouth as she watched him with wide eyes. Greta Salpeter was one of the only people Tom had ever mentioned his grandmother to. He hadn't said much, but it was impossible to talk about her without giving away how much he cared."It doesn't look like I'll even be able to do that," Tom continued."Oh, Tom. What happened?" Greta asked as she came around the couch and gave him a hug. Tom was stiff for a moment before putting his arms around her slender form, hugging her back. It made him feel marginally better, which in turn made him feel like a stupid kid. There was nothing magical about a hug; it shouldn't have drained some of the tension from his body or made his mind feel a little bit clearer."What do you think happened, Greta?" he asked, forcing himself to take a step away from her, his hands gripping her waist firmly to keep her from following him."No," she said, shaking her head."Her death was the only thing that would bring me back here," Tom said, his voice raising more than he wanted. There was no point in yelling at Greta; she'd never done him harm."But-""No buts," Tom snapped. "He told me he did it. And right now she's lying in a fucking morgue because I can't pay for her funeral.""Maybe...." Greta began. Tom laughed bitterly. Greta grit her teeth against it."What, should I ask Mike to pay?" he asked. "I'm not so sure the Dandies go in for that, Greta. After all, they'd be broke within the month if they buried everyone they murdered.""That's not fair," Greta snapped. "Not everyone is-""Why are you still here?" Tom interrupted. Greta looked as though he'd slapped her and Tom felt some of his anger drain away. "Not... not here like the suite, but here like this house?"Greta's eyes slid away from Tom's, focusing on the floor, her feet, the sofa, the wall."Who did you get mixed up with?" Tom asked, voice gentling a little. He reached out and touched her elbow. Greta looked up at that."You don't know him," Greta said softly. "His name is Nate... he's new.""And what does his sire have to say about dear Nate getting mixed up with the help?" It was unnecessarily harsh, but in that moment Tom wanted to reach out and shake her just until she realized how dangerous the game she was playing really was. In Beckett's time, none of the Dandies would have even thought to mess around with the humans. They needed people who were objective, who wouldn't be put in a position to learn something that could later be told to the wrong person."Nate's sire is dead," Greta said flatly. "And no one else has complained so far."Tom raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?" he asked."Do you really think an orphan is going to go against the gang?" Greta demanded. "He depends on each and every one of them.""And who do you depend on?" Tom asked."What?" Greta asked, obviously confused with the shift in questioning."Well, the gang keeps Nate safe, so who keeps you safe?" Tom pressed. He reached out and took hold of Greta's hands, holding tightly, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation to her."It's not going to be you, if that's what you're getting at," Greta said, taking a step back and tugging her hands free. "Your brilliant idea was to run away, to Brian Schecter of all people. Did you see him when you were gone?""No," Tom said automatically."Too bad. He's scary as hell; even the vampires around here talk about him in quiet voices. It makes me think he's some kind of monster." Greta shuddered."He's just smart," Tom said, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop them."Really," Greta said suspiciously."Knowledge is power, isn't it?" Tom said, shrugging and trying to seem bored with the idea already. He must have done a good job of it because Greta shrugged, too."That vampire he sent is a pain in the ass," she said. "Driving everyone crazy with his questions and his wandering.""Wandering?" Tom asked."Yeah, he's been looking around since he got here, nosing around places he's got no business being. He seems to like harassing Carden, but Brendon and Jon seem to be fair game, too. He was out for a few hours last night. Everyone seemed happy to see him go.""Hmmm," Tom said. What was Bryar up to? Nosing around the house made sense, if Schecter was after some kind of information, but where had he disappeared to? Was he relaying information to someone, or was he just finding ways to entertain himself that didn't involve being around Tom?Mike's words came back to him. "So you can talk to Bryar and get your stories straight? Not likely, Tom."Maybe he'd just wanted to throw off suspicion. Bob Bryar had no use for humans; Tom imagined it must be irritating to have been linked to one. Especially one like Tom.
"You ran away, and now that your city has changed hands, you stand to bring a heap of trouble to this one."
Tom had no idea what Bryar was planning, but he knew it couldn't be good for him. The vampire had made his thoughts on Tom painfully clear."So, do I get to at least meet this Nate?" Tom asked after an uncomfortable silence during which Greta continued to look at Tom unhappily, as though she couldn't quite figure something out about him. Tom didn't want her to hate him. If she did, she'd never listen to him. He'd already put her name on his list, right after Ryan and Spencer.The words had the opposite effect than he'd intended. Greta looked so incredibly sad for a moment and then turned and hurried toward the door. Tom held out a hand to stop her, but she shrugged it off."Greta?" he asked. She paused in the doorway, holding tightly to the knob."Nate didn't come home last night," she said softly. And then she was gone.
If Tom was upset about being shut in the suite last night, he was even angrier after Greta left. There was nothing to do except pace and think, neither of which were making him feel any better. He wasn't interested in any of the books in the bookcase, not even the ones he'd left there himself. There were a few paperback novels - stupid things like Stephen King that had made Mike laugh, or J.D. Robb, which had made him snort and then laugh - but also several hardcover photography books. Those made him sick to his stomach. Photography was a beautiful thing, an art. It didn't belong there.He did his best to keep from thinking about school or his other life, but he was unable to keep from thinking about Greta, the sad tilt to her mouth and the brightness of her eyes. Nate hadn't come home, she said. How had she found out? At dawn? No, that didn't make sense. Even as a fledgling, Nate wouldn't be dumb enough to sleep next to a human. Had Greta been told when she'd shown up for work? Most of the humans didn't live in the house, there were usually outbuildings on the property or apartments nearby.Tom wanted to ask, but it wasn't Greta who showed up to bring him dinner, it was the girl he'd seen with Lacey the day before. Up close she was hardly as pretty as she'd seemed, her hair a dull brown, her eyes muddy and unattractive. Vampires liked pretty things, and this girl didn't fit the bill. Tom breathed a sigh of relief when he realized there was no way Lacey was planning to keep her.The thought gave him pause. Either option had an equally dangerous outcome. Was he really suggesting that ending up dead was better than being turned? Tom was horrified to realize he was capable of passing so much judgment."So, you're -" he began, intent on feeling her out, deciding if her name would go on his list, too."Don't even start with me," the girl snapped. "I don't want none of what you're selling. I saw what you did to poor Greta.""I didn't -" Tom said, suddenly wanting to defend himself."You did," she said curtly. "Eat your dinner or don't," she eyed the half-full tray that Greta had left. "I don't care. Just keep your opinions to yourself."And that was that. He didn't even ask for her name.-*-At sunset, true to his word, Mike unlocked the door to the suite. He threw Tom an unreadable look, which made the boy think that maybe someone had told him about Greta and the girl with no name, but he didn't say anything about it.“I'm going out," he said. Tom bit back a sarcastic reply. "You have the house. If you can handle that, maybe you'll be allowed out on the grounds." His tone of voice told Tom that he didn't seem hopeful of that happening. Tom didn't care. Even being able to roam the house was appealing at the moment, after having spent so much time in the suite.Mike disappeared soon after making his pronouncement, but Tom forced himself to spend another half hour on the balcony, not wanting to seem too grateful for the opportunity to leave. He sat on the railing for awhile, thinking back to the night before, and the argument he'd heard coming from the suite directly above him. Had it been about Nate? Had someone gotten worried even before dawn? If Nate was a fledgling, it would make sense. Dandies tended to keep close tabs on their young ones. When the young one in question was an orphan, there were more eyes trained in their direction.Tom wished he could ask someone. Maybe if he found Greta again and she was actually willing to talk to him.Once his thirty minutes were up, Tom carefully set a comfortable pace and made his way out of the suite. He took his time in wandering the corridors, trying various doors to see if they were locked. Most of them were, but he did manage to find an unlocked music room, with an assortment of acoustic guitars and a lovely grand piano. He didn't linger, but kept it in mind for later. It had been awhile since he'd played, but he was confident that he hadn't gotten too bad in the last year.As soon as he'd finished exploring the second floor, Tom stood near the staircase and debated whether to go up or down. The third floor was likely mostly suites as well, but there was always a chance that he'd find something unexpected like the music room. On the other hand, the first floor had the parlours, the kitchen, and the front door. He could watch people coming and going, take stock of who was still at the house, and what their routines were. The information would do him little good, but it might help one of the kids, or even Greta. Mind made up, he headed down, gripping tightly to the railing and doing his best to block out memories of every eye on him as he'd made his way up just last night.There was no one in the foyer as Tom made his way down to the first floor, and he wasn't entirely sure whether that was a good thing or not. He'd just stepped onto the polished wood floor of the entryway when he heard Jon Walker's voice coming from the larger of the two parlours on either side of the foyer. Tom moved slowly, quietly, not wanting to draw attention to himself. If there was a meeting, maybe they were discussing the missing fledgling."We have no proof that it was Wentz," Jon said, his tone sharp, as though he'd said it more than once already."But -" It was the Butcher, and he sounded as irritated as Jon himself."If you want to hunt him down, go ahead," Jon said. "He's slighted you enough for that and this gang has been far too permissive with his actions as it is. But I am not going to issue an edict, not for him.""What about Felix?" Butcher pressed. "Maja's envoy is still dead.""If I thought for a minute that this was about Felix, you'd have a point," Jon said. "But unless everyone here has forgotten, I wasn't in charge when that happened. I'm not going to start going over past events and doling out punishments that I feel are fitting. If Maja wants to take that up with me, she can." The Butcher looked as though he was going to protest again, but Jon cut him off once more. It was clearly an argument they'd been having for some time. "He injured Siska, I understand how angry you are about that. You two are the last of your line, after all. If you want to take that up with Wentz, go ahead.""I would if I could find him," the Butcher retorted. "It seems he's disappeared.""Tough break," Bryar replied."Yes," the Butcher said slowly. "Tough break, indeed. I don't suppose you have any information to share?""No," Bryar said simply."Don't lie to me!" the Butcher yelled. Tom bit back a gasp at the fury in his face. He crouched down lower and continued to peer around the doorway. "You reeked of his people when you came back to the house last night!""I never denied finding the hunters," Bryar said. "My business is my own.""Bullshit," the Butcher spat. "Are you one of us, or one of them?"Bryar looked down at his clothes and then looked back the Butcher. "I don't see a hoodie and girl's jeans, so I'm going to assume that you weren't actually asking that question.""He almost killed my family," Butcher pressed. "Didn't he also kill yours?"Oh. Tom bit his lip and leaned out a little farther, not wanting to miss the answer. Could that be it, the reason the border was closed? Tom didn't know a lot about the vampires, but he did know that family - fledglings, sires, grand sires, siblings - were important."Yes," Bryar snarled. "But I'm more fortunate than you are, Butcher. I have more than one sad little boy in my line. I have Schecter, Gabriel, Gerard. Have you already forgotten who marked those hunters?""No," the Butcher said, shaking his head in disbelief. It took Tom a moment to realize that he wasn't actually answering Bryar's question. "There is no way that you're claiming Pete Wentz as your blood."Bryar snorted at that, the sound making Tom raise his eyebrows in surprise. He'd never have pegged Bryar for such an indelicate sound."Of course not," he said. "But those boys are, until such time as Gerard gives them up or keeps them permanently. I'm not stupid, you know. I'm well aware of the fact that they won't make it out alive if I help you to find Wentz.""Walker...." The Butcher turned to Jon and had a silent conversation with him, one comprised of dire looks and arched eyebrows."We can't force him to tell us," Jon said finally. "He's right about the blood claim - family is family. Lose the smug look, Bryar, now." Everyone else in the parlour went quiet as Jon turned his attention back to their envoy, whose look of satisfaction shifted to one of lazy surprise. "Your line seems to thrive on technicalities," he continued. "But we're not stupid, either. It's only going to get you so far before it backfires.""Are you threatening me?" Bryar asked softly, dangerously."Of course not," Jon said brusquely. "That would be impolite. What would Schecter say?""What, indeed," Bryar mused. "He might start with asking why no one bothered to make sure this meeting was at least semi-secret." He looked over at Tom, then, smiling a little to see him crouched down, nearly on his knees."Tom," Mike said flatly.I'm still in the house, I haven't done anything wrong Tom thought about saying, but the last thing he wanted was to be confined to the suite all day and all night. He stood up, brushed some imaginary dirt from his jeans and hurried away."Someone needs to bathe him," Tom heard someone say."Rich, coming from you," Another one replied. "I remember you as a human. Everyone thought Lacey was insane for wanting to turn you."Tom didn't hear anymore of the argument. He hurried up the stairs, intent on exploring the third floor and possibly the attic before heading back to the music room.
It was nearing dawn when he stumbled into the kitchen and set about putting together a tray of things to bring up to the suite. They hadn't seemed keen on feeding him at decent times, so he'd just have to take care of that himself. He was piling fruit and crackers, cheese and juice onto the counter when two of the humans on the Dandy payroll wandered into the kitchen from the back door. They spoke quietly amongst themselves, either unaware or uncaring that Tom was there. Tom recognized one as the girl with no name, and figured that the servants were just pretending he didn't exist. Tom busied himself by putting his food onto a small white tray, keeping one ear out to eavesdrop."Second day in a row," the girl with no name said to her blond friend. "Rotten luck, maybe?""Maybe. But Greta....""Greta was a sentimental fool. I wouldn't be surprised if someone found her shoes on Sampson Bridge.""Sampson isn't high enough to kill yourself," the blond scoffed."I never said she was bright, did I?" The girl with no name laughed."What was that?" Tom snapped, breaking into their conversation. The women glared at him for eavesdropping."You mean you haven't heard? My, why ever would Carden keep anything from you?" the girl with no name asked, feigning shock. "You'd think that people didn't like you very much.""I don't need to be liked," Tom said, gritting his teeth. He stepped away from the counter and moved toward the girls, using every inch of extra height he had. He knew that he should be ashamed of himself for trying to intimidate a woman, but he tried not to listen to that part of his brain. "What happened to Greta?""She should have been here an hour ago. Her apartment is empty," the blond said, shrinking back against the wall."So you think...?" Tom asked, leaving his question open for the girl to fill in her own interpretation."That she killed herself, yeah," the blond replied. "She was sad. About Nate," she added."Don't be stupid." The voice came from the doorway and Tom looked up to see a boy a little younger than him standing there with an annoyed look on his face. "Everyone likes to think Greta's stupid because she's cute. One day someone is going to underestimate her and then she'll kick their ass." He looked pointedly at the girl with no name.Tom decided he liked the new kid."I'm Brent," he said, offering Tom his hand in an oddly formal gesture. It was more than a little unsettling to see a human mimic Dandy actions. Tom added Brent's name to his list and mentally underlined it. "Anyway, that doesn't account for Michael," Brent continued.Michael.For a moment, Tom went absolutely still, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Did that mean...?"The fledgling," Brent clarified.Tom tried not to focus on the rush of disappointment. "He's missing?" he asked."Second one in two days," Brent remarked. "Good thing Siska stays close to home."-*-There was something disconcerting about waking up and knowing that the house - what little of it was awake given the early hour - was in an uproar. Bryar threw back the covers on his bed, lamenting the dark blue duvet and matching sheets he'd left back home, and got to his feet. He dressed quickly, knowing that time was of the essence and information was critical. He didn't want to be on the wrong end of the adage knowledge is power.He found Jon Walker in the same parlour that they'd held their last meeting, an untouched cup of tea in his left hand. He was standing near the window, hand outstretched toward the blackout curtains."I wouldn't pull that back just yet," Bryar remarked, lounging in the doorway."I know," Jon replied. "Sunset isn't until seven." Bryar turned toward the clock on the mantle. It was barely five."Are you always such an early riser?" Bryar asked. He himself was used to sleeping a little later."Only when there's trouble," Jon said after a moment. "I could feel it, I just knew.""You could probably hear the house staff prattling on," Bryar replied. "That would wake anyone.""Perhaps," Jon said distractedly. "There are worse things to be than attuned those around me." Bryar merely nodded at that."There is trouble, though," he said once the silence between them had stretched a little too long. "The humans are upset. Those of us who are awake have been whispering.""Are you worried that they're keeping secrets?" Jon asked with a small, distracted smile. "This isn't grammar school, Bryar. We don't all have to get along."There were many things that Bryar could say to that. He could remind Jon of his obligation to keep Bryar safe, for starters, or even make vague threats about withholding information in the future. Instead he did his best to wait patiently until Jon dealt with whatever troubling thoughts were currently taking most of his attention."We've lost another fledgling," he said eventually. "And one of the humans - Greta - didn't report in just before dawn.""Greta? I didn't know they had names," Bryar scoffed. Jon looked at him for a long moment, unhappy but almost unwilling to voice his concerns."We were going to keep her," Jon said finally. "She'd fit in well, we think.""We?" Bryar asked."Nate. And myself," Jon replied. "He's too young to do anything about her yet.""Recruiting from the help?" Bryar asked, surprised. "Is that why you haven't stopped that other one from ... dallying with your underlings?" Jon's mouth twisted unpleasantly."That... is a special case," he said. "She won't be around for long, so there's no harm done so long as it's discreet.""It's really not," Bryar laughed."That's my problem to deal with," Jon pointed out. "Not yours.""Fair enough," Bryar conceded."She's not answering her phone." Both Bryar and Jon turned toward the newcomer, one of the younger vampires that Bryar had encountered on his arrival to the Dandy house the night before. Faller, Bryar thought he was called."Christopher, you need to calm down," Jon said, cutting off any possible outbursts the young Dandy might have been thinking about making."I am calm," Faller insisted. "I'm not a stupid fledgling, Jon, and I'm not worried for no reason. There's no answer at either Celeste's home or her cell. She's never completely unreachable.""She's a student, is she still in class?" Jon asked reasonably. The look Faller gave him was not kind and Bryar was possessed with the urge to reach out and slap him upside the head. Jon managed to make him contrite with nothing more than a quirk of his eyebrow and an irritated frown. Bryar was man enough to admit he was impressed."Her last lecture lets out at four," Faller said."Does she have friends? Someone she might be with?" Jon pressed."Does your boy have friends?" Faller asked. "People outside this life, who don't know what's going to become of him?"Jon fell silent at that."I need to find her," Faller insisted. "I need to know that she's safe."He was near to begging and Bryar fought the urge to roll his eyes. That, right there, was another reason he had no use for humans. Not only were they fickle and dangerous, but they made you responsible for them. They could reduce you to ... that."As soon as the sun goes down," Jon promised. "And if you find her -" Bryar didn't miss the stricken look that came over Faller's face, "- bring her back here immediately. We need to round up our people. Things might be crowded for awhile.""Has something else happened?" Faller asked sharply."Greta didn't return this morning," Jon explained. "And... Brent. He apparently went out at noon and hasn't been seen since. Not to mention Michael and Nate.""They're taking them from right under our noses," Faller said. "This can't go unpunished.""Don't worry," Jon said, clapping Faller on the shoulder and leading him into the foyer. "As soon as I know who did it, I'll point you in their direction and turn you loose.""Thank you," Faller said. The heartfelt gratitude in his eyes made Bryar turn away. He stared at the fireplace for several minutes, until he couldn't hear Faller's footsteps anymore and he was sure that no one else was going to interrupt them. He then turned back to Jon and was surprised to find the Dandy leader staring at him questioningly, as though trying to decide whether or not to proceed."I'm going to order a headcount," Jon said after another moment of contemplation. Bryar thought of making a joke about grammar schools but kept the quip to himself. There was something so serious in Jon's eyes that even Bryar, who loved to push the limits, knew to keep silent. "Everyone will have an hour after sunset to bring their people here. Not only our house staff and all marked humans like Christopher's Celeste -" Bryar noticed that he didn't draw attention to himself, didn't list Spencer's name, "- but also any humans who might have even caught someone's eye on the street. If a Dandy has ever looked twice at someone, ever thought about the possibility of keeping them, I want to know that they're safe.""Not a small job, keeping them settled," Bryar said. "Especially if they're not too keen on the idea.""I have two mesmerists in this house," Jon said. "We'll be fine.""And why would you share such information with me, before you've even told your own people?" Bryar asked carefully."Because, as you so nicely pointed out last night, you have family in my city. Family at all costs, right?""Right," Bryar said slowly. He'd known it would come back to haunt him, staking a claim to Wentz's hunters, even on Gerard's behalf. Gerard himself had no intention of coming back for them, their marking having been nothing more than a small piece in a grander plan. But still, what had he been expected to do, especially when the Butcher had set his sights on them? Bryar might not have had much use for humans in general, but he found himself strangely unwilling to let go of that boy.
Blue eyes and short brown hair, his mouth twisted into an angry line. So much loyalty to his friends, to one so undeserving as Pete Wentz. He'd fight them, Bryar knew. It would be gorgeous.
"I think we have enough excitement here, without dangling them in front of the Butcher," Bryar said. "But I'll keep an eye on them regardless.""Your choice," Jon said. Bryar tried to read his reaction, curious as to whether he was satisfied or unhappy with the decision. He was frustrated to realize that he had no idea what the other vampire was thinking.Jon excused himself then, intent on catching the rest of his people as they woke. They really couldn't afford to lose any time.
Bryar stayed close to the house during the early evening, choosing to delay going out to hunt. He listened as Jon spoke with his followers, doing his best to calm their fears. The staff was rounded up and housed in the small outbuilding at the edge of Dandy property, where previously an older couple had lived alone. None of the Dandies offered them much by way of explanation, but Bryar supposed that wasn't unusual. House staff wasn't meant to ask questions, and vampires weren't meant to offer up information at random. So long as they stayed at the estate, they'd be safe. That's all anyone had to know.Things were different with the humans who actually mattered. Bryar saw Brendon talking quietly with Ryan, Jon with Spencer, and even Quinn with some tiny brunette, a grave expression on his face as he offered up whatever he knew about the situation. Faller returned empty-handed, his body language closing off with every passing minute, the look on his face growing darker and darker as he eyed the Dandies who still had their humans.It was after nine when he caught sight of Carden and Jon. They were standing in one of the long corridors, arguing quietly. Bryar slipped into the kitchen, pressed flat against the wall near the door, and did his best to listen."Have you not heard a word I've said?" Jon hissed. He was beyond angry and Bryar couldn't help but smile and close his eyes a little. He wished he could see it, the flash of his dark eyes, the twist of his mouth, the set of his eyebrows. He'd heard the stories, of course, years worth of gossip concerning Jonathan Walker and his famous even temper, the pride of Nicholas Scimeca's line."I'm not letting someone take him from me, not again!" Carden exclaimed. "We are missing four people, according to your head count.""Tom isn't allowed to leave the house, that's your rule," Jon said. "And that will have to do. We've already discussed this, you already know my feelings about it.""He is not Pete Wentz!" Carden said.They were discussing whether or not to turn Tom, Bryar realized. What would happen if Carden did? Schecter had no claim on him, but he'd be upset just the same.
"I need eyes in that house."
The words came back to him. Officially, those were his orders - observe and report back. Unofficially, Bryar knew he should be doing much more. If Tom was turned, Schecter would lose him, lose whatever it was that connected them. No matter what the future held, Bryar was certain that having the boy turned was a bad idea. He was overcome with a wave of annoyance at the thought. The kid was trouble. If he didn't think it would cause even more bad blood between their cities (if it wouldn't upset Schecter to have one of his schemes thwarted), Bryar would just let the boy take what was coming to him.He only had a moment to formulate a plan, and it certainly wasn't one of his best, but Bryar didn't allow himself to think about it. He stayed silent as Jon passed him by, moving with long, purposeful strides in his effort to get away from Carden. It wasn't until the mesmerist followed a few moments later that Bryar moved, lounging in the kitchen doorway, intent on getting his attention."Trouble, Carden?" he asked innocently."None that concerns you," Carden replied, not bothering to even spare Bryar a glance. The disrespect angered the elder vampire and he was moving before Carden could do more than take a single step. His hand closed over the mesmerist's arm, gripping tightly just above the elbow, wrinkling his perfectly pressed suit coat. With one quick jerk, he'd pulled the other vampire backward, making him stumble into the kitchen."You take liberties, Bryar," Carden snarled. "You might be an envoy, and people might be afraid of your connection to that fucking Seer, but I'm not one of them. I'll thank you to keep your hands to yourself."No matter the words, Bryar smiled regardless. Carden's language was formal, more so than usual when they dealt with one another. He was being careful. Bryar allowed him to pull away, to put more distance between them, not only because he'd made his point, but also because the only place to go was farther into the kitchen. Carden took his place by the butcher block counter, watching Bryar warily."Walker doesn't seem very thrilled with you," Bryar remarked innocently. "Are you planning something foolish?""My actions are none of your business," Carden replied.Bryar tsked and shook his head. "You won't even humour a guest in your house? Shouldn't I know what's going on?""If I thought that you were actually in the dark, maybe I'd tell you," Carden scoffed.Bryar decided to change tracks. "Fine then. If I already know, then there's no harm in telling me, is there?" he asked reasonably. "It's hardly giving up your secrets.""I'm sure you've learned how to eavesdrop in all the years you spent with Schecter and Gabriel," Mike said. "Which means this conversation is pointless. All I'll say to you is that everything will be settled by tomorrow, and then you'll actually have something interesting to report home."He pushed away from the counter then, intent on side-stepping Bryar and leaving the kitchen. Bryar watched him go, waiting for the opportune moment to do what was perhaps the stupidest thing he'd ever done. Funny how desperation could make even the smartest, most ruthless of their kind do the most counter-productive things."He said 'Alex.'"Bryar's words stopped Carden in the doorway, much the way he'd figured they would. The mesmerist didn't turn around right away, not until Bryar added, "Didn't he?"It was a dangerous game to play, to acknowledge the connection that Carden himself hadn't put together. Bryar's mind was screaming at him to end this, to find a lie to cover up what he'd really been about to reveal, but he pushed it aside. He just hoped Carden wouldn't ask for specifics, such as just when he was supposed to have overheard this particular gem of information."So you think you can mock me, too?" Carden asked, quietly, dangerously. He turned around then, and the fury in his eyes would have given a lesser vampire pause. There was another emotion beneath the anger, something very difficult to pick up but still there.Bryar was reaching out for it before he caught himself, wanting to keep all of his attention focused on the conversation at hand. It wouldn't do to get distracted."No, but even you should have put it together by now," Bryar said. He allowed a smile to play over his face and knew it was more than a little smug, designed to get the worst possible reaction. Best to throw him off, make him worry."Alex," he continued. "How many of those do you suppose our old friend has, anyway?"There was the shocked silence Bryar had been counting on. Carden stood stock still in the doorway, processing the information. He looked up, then, locking their gazes together, and Bryar could see the thinly veiled disbelief on his face. There was something else, too, that mystery emotion that had been bothering Bryar since he'd first noticed it. It was stronger, suddenly, and Bryar knew immediately what it was. He was desperate to reach out for it, to see just what this vampire was afraid of. There was nothing else the emotion could be, not when Bryar's talent was screaming to be used."I don't know," Carden huffed, pulling himself together and taking a step forward. "Four?"It took Bryar a moment to come back to himself, to realize that the other vampire was actually answering a rhetorical question."Seven," Bryar corrected. "It would have been eight if Victoria hadn't gotten to Suarez first. That's always been a sore spot, you know.""I can imagine," Carden said sarcastically. The lack of respect grated on Bryar's nerves and he couldn't help the irritated looked he fixed on the mesmerist."They've become quite a joke among your people, Schecter and his little harem. I've heard the stories you tell, the ridiculous disbelief, the borderline insults," he said. "I have no idea how people began to believe that he’s permissive when it comes to his Alexes, but that can't be farther from the truth. Their upbringing has been as painfully strict as the rest of ours, though your gossip has gotten one thing right.""What?" Carden asked, almost against his better judgement, if the look on his face was any indication."Schecter would do anything to secure their happiness," Bryar replied. "He's even given one away, to Colligan of all people."Carden was quiet at that and Bryar wondered if he'd had any dealings with Colligan in the past. Possibly, because Carden didn't seem all that happy to hear him mentioned. Bryar supposed he could understand the reaction. He himself had rarely seen such brutality wrapped up in such a sweet-faced package."Do you want to know why he did that?" Bryar pressed, laughing a little. "Because Cash made a sad, terrified boy smile, and putting the newborn with Colligan was better than putting him back in the ground. We sometimes have to put the young ones down, you know that. Beckett did it to Darren's fledgling and should have done it with Wentz.""Why are you telling me this?" Carden demanded, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, since his coat was already wrinkled from Bryar's rough treatment.To buy me some time, Bryar thought. To cause a distraction."To make sure you think this through," he said instead."I don't care who he took up with when he was gone," Carden said finally, after a moment of silence. "The fact remains that he's mine here. I can do what I want.""And you can reap the consequences," Bryar said simply. "He'll fight you. He'll kill you.""He won't," Carden said."He will," Bryar replied. "He'll do it because he's angry. Bitter. Funny how that's probably what attracted you to him in the first place.""Fuck you," Carden spat, turning and stalking away."So eloquent," Bryar sighed. It didn't matter. He'd gotten what he wanted.
All the Dandies were staying close to the safe house, so the streets seemed incredibly quiet as Bryar made his way down Ashmore. He was glad of the privacy, not wanting to lead any of the Butcher's allies straight to the small building where Wentz and his people were holed up. It had once been a used bookstore but had seemingly been abandoned for years, if the faded brick and boarded up windows, sprayed with several coats of graffiti, were any indication. Bryar wondered if they'd chosen it for that very reason. Their last hideout hadn't been much better. The cliché burned.The vampire was about to make his way around back when he heard a muffled curse and the sounds of fists hitting flesh. Curious, he followed the sounds of a scuffle, finding himself turning the corner and heading toward a rundown school playground. From his vantage point, Bryar could see several Hoods, all standing around a body on the ground. It wasn't until the wind changed, however, that he caught that body's scent.His reaction was instantaneous."You're either very brave or very stupid," he called out. The three Hoods turned to look at him, momentarily ignoring the boy on the ground. Even the boy looked back at Bryar, and the Dandy wanted to laugh at the look of mild annoyance in his blue eyes. Then he caught sight of the purpling bruise on his cheek and all his good humour vanished."You're far from home," one of the Hoods said. He was wearing a blue t-shirt and had perfectly spaced cornrows in his hair. One of his friends, wearing a green undershirt, snickered."Not really," Bryar remarked."Well, this is none of your business," another said. He was a strange one, hardly fitting in with his friends, what with his fair hair and awkward manner."It is, actually, because that human belongs to someone already.""Not you," the one in blue said. "You're not the one who marked him. Joey here's been abandoned. Haven't you, Joe?" He kicked out, catching Joe in the ribs. The human muffled his groan of pain.That was interesting, Bryar mused. He hadn't thought the Dandies would let that bit of information get out. How much did the others know of his last visit to the city? Maybe more than they should, if the current troubles were anything to go by."You seem to know something about me," Bryar said slowly. "But I don't even know your names. How about we fix that?"He learned that the awkward one was Andrew, the one in blue Malcolm, and the one in green - the ringleader - was Trevor."Well, gentlemen," Bryar said smoothly once he'd filed their names away for later. "There's a difference between abandoning a human and coming back for him later. That boy is as much a Dandy as I am."He looked over at Joe and tried to convey the importance of keeping his mouth shut, of keeping that look of disgust off his face. Eventually the boy lowered his head to the pavement, turning slightly so the Hoods couldn't see his expression."I represent the one who marked him," Bryar continued. "And I can assure you that Gerard Way will not be happy to find out about this.""Gerard Way can suck my dick," Trevor snarled."Such language," Bryar said around a sigh. "You'll never get your way like that.""It doesn't matter," Andrew insisted. "Rules are rules, after all. His keeper is gone. You can't be keeper by proxy.""Do they give you a rule book in this city? When they turn you, I mean," Bryar asked. "Because where I come from, Dandy property is Dandy property, regardless of where someone's keeper might be. So I'm just going to go with that, if it's alright with you.""It's not," Malcolm said."I was afraid of that," Bryar said with an affected sigh. "Are you sure I can't change your minds?""No," Trevor said, throwing the Dandy a stupid look."Your funeral," Bryar replied. He tilted his head to the side and focused on the ringleader. It was easy to rifle through his head, using his talent to zero in on what he needed, to pull out one thought that was close to the surface, always an issue at the back of the Hood's mind.
The darkness of the grave, the feel of so much dirt over top of him. Digging, always digging, never finding the surface. Opening his mouth to scream, only to end up with a mouthful of soil and no one to hear him.
It was a common fear among young vampires and Bryar smiled. It was hardly interesting, but he could work with it.It was easy to turn the thought against all the Hoods, not just the one whose mind Bryar had ripped it from. Using his skills was second nature by now, and he had no trouble spinning a simple illusion in their heads, chasing everything away except for the feel of cheap satin lining and the smell of moist earth. He even threw in a few worms for good measure, sliding along clawed hands as they dug, across open mouths screaming silently.He was very good at it, Bryar knew. What he wasn't so good at, it turned out, was shielding humans from it. Joe screamed louder than any of the others.Bryar felt the illusion flicker at that, but he forced himself to keep it up as he moved closer. It was easy to kill the Hoods when they were writhing on the ground, clawing at invisible dirt and scraping their skin against the pavement. Bryar hesitated at the awkward one and finally settled on kicking him hard in the side, sending him rolling across the basketball court. He released the vampire from the illusion and leaned over him."Make sure you tell the others what happened here tonight," Bryar said. The Hood nodded and staggered to his feet, lurching toward the sidewalk on unsteady legs.Joe still hadn't stopped screaming.Bryar knelt next to him, restraining his arms and being careful of the cast on his left wrist. He'd have to discuss that with Jon at some point, but even he was wary about pushing his luck quite that much."You need to calm down," he said softly. The human continued to thrash without hearing him. Bryar tightened his hold and leaned closer, using one hand to steady Joe's face. He locked eyes with the boy and did his best to quickly sift through his thoughts, trying to find one that might calm him. He'd never tried this before, didn't know if it would actually work, but anything had to be worth a shot. He found a likely candidate and pulled it to the front, spinning an illusion to go with it.
Home, with his parents. Listening to his mother tell ridiculous stories about the patients at the home where she worked. Arguing good-naturedly with his father about something in the newspaper. Feeling loved and safe.
The illusion flickered a few times, the crafting of it strange and unnatural to Bryar's mind, but shoddy quality or not, it managed to work. The fight slowly went out of the boy and his eyes closed gently. He drew deep lungfuls of air and went pliant against Bryar's hands."Can you make it back to your safe house?" Bryar murmured, not wanting to draw him out of it yet."Yes," Joe said softly."Then go," Bryar urged, getting to his feet and helping the boy to stand. He followed close behind, doing his best to maintain the illusion, no matter how faint it must have become with the strain of keeping it up. Bryar stayed in the street until Joe disappeared inside, then he closed the connection between them, leaving the human to his own thoughts.-*-Everywhere Tom turned, there was someone in his way, be they vampire or human with an inflated sense of self worth. All he wanted was somewhere quiet to think, somewhere that wasn't Mike's suite, but it wasn't looking likely that he was going to find it. There was some bimbo with her giggling friend in the music room, vampires in both parlours, servants in the kitchen, and the attic was quickly being converted into a dorm of sorts. It made sense, Tom supposed. There were a lot of extra people to house, and few Dandies were willing to give up their beds to ensure their safety.Frustrated, Tom headed for the corridor near the second floor suites, hoping to find at least one end of it deserted so he could curl up in a corner and figure out just what the hell he was going to do. The argument between Mike and Jon was still ringing in his ears. He didn't think he'd ever be able to let go of those words.
"I'm going to turn him," Mike said matter-of-factly, not even bothering with pleasantries before getting to the heart of the matter.

"Has something happened to your short-term memory?" Jon asked. "Because I know you can't be bringing this up again. You're smarter than that."

"Mocking me won't change my mind, Walker," Mike said, not rising to the bait. "I've made the decision."
"Have you not heard a word I've said?" Jon hissed. There was the sound of fine Dandy shoes ringing out against polished hardwood and Tom wished desperately that he could see. From his position around the corner, back pressed tightly against the wall, he couldn't risk it. Either they'd see him and stop talking, or Mike would just act on his decision, and Tom wasn't ready for either possibility.
"I'm not letting someone take him from me, not again!"

If Tom didn't know better, he'd almost think the emotion in the vampire's voice had less to do with possession and more to do with genuine feeling.
As he made his way up the stairs, Tom knew that finding privacy was a lost cause. He could hear muted conversations before he could see anyone, and as soon as he got to the top step, he caught sight of two vampires standing at one end of the hallway, and two kids sitting at the other. Tom debated what to do for a moment, before Ryan looked away from Spencer and saw him. Not wanting to look like he was being chased away - by them of all people - Tom took a deep breath and slowly made his way down the hallway.It figured that they were sitting near Mike's suite, their backs against the door directly across the hall. Why should things go Tom's way, after all? Not only was he freaking out, but he'd have to do it in the room that doubled as his cell, while two kids he despised sat right outside the door."I want to go home, Ryan," Spencer was saying as Tom approached."You heard Jon, it's not safe," Ryan explained with an air of exasperation. Tom guessed he'd said those words more than once already."You saw what happened to my parents the last time I disappeared," Spencer said. "I can't do that to them again. And I don't want Brendon fucking with their heads, so don't even use that as a way to make me feel better!""It's not like he'll zap away anything important," Ryan insisted, rubbing at his friend's shoulder."Oh yeah? Let him mindfuck your parents, then!" Spencer snapped. Ryan drew his hand back quickly, lacing his fingers together in his lap."That was really mean, Spence," he said softly."I know," Spencer sighed, putting an arm around Ryan's shoulders. "I'm sorry.""Don't be sorry. You have a point," Tom said as he stopped outside Mike's door."Shut the fuck up," Ryan snapped."Not about your parents," Tom said. "I don't know your back story and I don't really care, either. But what about his? What do you think is going to happen when Jon decides to keep you?" He turned away from Ryan and focused his attention on the other boy. Spencer looked uncomfortable, his eyes sliding away from Tom's, focusing on the wallpaper instead."He won't...." Spencer said softly. Tom laughed in his face."Keep telling yourself that," he said."Spencer."The boy's name was said simply, in a conversational tone, but Tom didn't doubt that Jon Walker was angry. He was standing near the stairs, leaning against the banister, watching the three humans at the end of the corridor."Jon," Spencer said, getting to his feet as the vampire held out a hand, beckoning him forward."You too, Ryan," Jon said.Ryan turned his attention briefly to Tom, his sharp eyes looking the other boy over from head to toe with a quiet, knowing gaze. Tom suddenly felt naked and exposed, as though the kid had managed to see everything."I'm coming," Ryan said finally, getting to his feet. He didn't look back as he left. Tom glared at his retreating back, waiting until Jon and the two boys were gone before he went into the suite and slammed the door hard enough to rattle it in the doorframe. He set to pacing as soon as he was alone, the heavy door and thick walls blocking out the noise of the chaotic house.Mike was going to turn him.Tom would be a fool if he hadn't figured that out by now, but there'd always been a little part of his mind that wondered if the vampire would just kill him instead. Even if he hadn't planned on that, Tom had thought that maybe Mike would put it off, for one reason or another. He hadn't been in much of a hurry to turn him before, although... Tom hadn't been so much trouble back then.He grabbed at his hair, tugging hard, and slumped against the wall. What was he going to do?Tom's thoughts were interrupted by muffled footsteps in the hall. He froze, his eyes glued to the door, where he could just make out the shadow of a person standing outside. His breath caught in his throat.Was it Mike? Was he going to do it, even though Jon had said no? Were there consequences to that, or were Jon's words on the matter more like a suggestion? He didn't know about that, but what he did know was that he wasn't ready. There were still things he wanted to do with his life. He'd only gotten halfway through his education. He'd never been published in any major magazines. He'd never managed to take the perfect photo.He just needed a little time, Tom told himself. Just a few hours, maybe a day. He wasn't ready to give up on everything he'd had, everything he'd run away from.The plan was stupid, Tom knew it, but he still found himself moving toward the balcony and leaning over the side. He was on the second storey, but if he held onto the railing and let himself drop, he'd probably make it down alright.Not allowing himself to think about what he was doing, Tom threw his legs over the railing and let himself fall.
It was ridiculously easy to run across the grounds, to keep to the shadows as he made his way to the fence that surrounded the property. His ankle throbbed, swelling a little after the way he'd twisted it in the fall. Tom put it out of his head and forced himself to keep moving. There was a car just outside the gates, if he could get to it, he'd be able to put some distance between himself and the Dandy house. He knew he couldn't go far, not when he had someone else's safety to worry about, but maybe everything would be okay if he only went home. There was no way he was hiding if that's where he went. Besides, he hadn't had nearly enough time with his grandmother's things when he first got in.He knew it wasn't much of an excuse, but it was all he had. He thought briefly of Bryar, of how his presence had everyone walking on eggshells. Maybe he'd keep Mike in line.No, that was stupid. Bryar had made himself very clear on the matter, not to mention the fact that he had his own games to play. Tom wondered how long it would be before the hunters joined the others at the Dandy house. Would they distract Bryar completely, to the point where Tom and his soap opera problems were even less of Bryar's concern? There was a bitterness in the thought, and the realization left a sinking feeling in Tom's stomach.How fucked up did he have to be, to look to Bryar for help? Well, Tom had never denied that he'd had problems.It would have been difficult to climb the fence with two good ankles, but with one sprained one - and only a pair of flip flops - it was nearly impossible. Tom jumped and got a good hold on the decorative ironwork and was even able to wedge a foot against one of the bars and lift himself up a little. The problem came when it was time to put his weight on his other leg. Pain flared bright and hot, racing from his ankle to his knee. He cried out and fell back against the lush, well-manicured grass."Need a hand?"The voice was unfamiliar. Tom froze for a moment before slowly turning to look at the Dandy standing behind him."What?" he asked dumbly."Christ, but he picks 'em stupid," the vampire said to himself. "The fence. Do you want help getting over it?""Why would you help me?" Tom asked warily. You never got something for nothing; Tom had learned that even before he'd met Mike."Because they found Celeste in a Dumpster," the vampire replied. Tom bit his tongue to keep from asking who that was. "So maybe I'm of the mind that no one should get what they want."Tom just stared at the vampire for a moment, taking in the impatient twist to his mouth, the sadness in his eyes. He was going to turn her, Tom realized. He'd cared for her.No, Tom told himself. It's not real. He'd had that once, too, possession disguised as love. Those kids inside were being conned the same way, but Tom knew the truth. Dressing it up as anything else would only lead to a lot of hurt.He pictured his grandmother's face and got to his feet."Yes," Tom said. "I would like a hand."The vampire held out his hand and Tom balanced gingerly on his injured foot, his fingers skimming the cool iron of the fence in an effort to keep upright."Ready?" the vampire asked. He didn't wait for Tom's reply, just used his strength to propel him over the twelve foot fence. Tom ended up on his hands and knees in the gravel on the other side. His palms were skinned and his jeans were torn."Run, little boy. Run," the Dandy said, turning away from Tom and making his way back across the lawn. Tom watched him for a moment, dumbfounded, but eventually realized that if he was going, he'd have to leave immediately. He got to his feet and limped toward the car, a small red compact with a long scratch in the rear bumper. There was a key in the ignition, which made Tom happy. He'd worried for a moment that he'd have to hotwire the car. Theoretically it was like riding a bike - he'd never really forget how to do it - but he was glad not to test the theory. It had been two years since he'd last used that skill.As much as he wanted to squeal the tires as he pulled away, Tom managed to find some restraint. Calling attention to himself wasn't a good idea. He drove the speed limit all the way, paid attention to stop signs and other traffic. The last thing he needed was to get pulled over. That would end this before it even started.He parked the car in his grandmother's driveway, not caring that anyone could come by and see it. He wasn't trying to hide, just find some time to clear his head. He'd say 'come to terms' with everything, but that was bullshit. He'd never be completely ready for what was going to happen, but at least he could stop feeling so fucking sad about everything he'd lost.The house still smelled like his grandmother's perfume. It hit him hard, making Tom close his eyes and breathe it in. God, so many memories in that house....
Eight years old and sitting on the couch next to his grandmother, a bowl of Cheerios balanced precariously on his lap. He leaned in close, sticking his nose against her neck and taking a deep breath.

"Thomas!" she laughed, pulling away.

"You smell nice," he said.

Ten years old, leaning against the counter in the kitchen, watching as she carefully measured brown sugar and molasses. There was a scowl on his face because the cookies weren't for him. To add insult to injury, he'd have to deliver them to Mrs. Jones across the street.

"That's not a very welcoming look," his grandmother said pointedly, knowing him well enough that she didn't even have to look up to know he was upset.

"I'm not in a welcoming mood," he said darkly.

"That's too bad," she replied smoothly. "Because only boys on the Welcome Wagon get cookies. Sourpusses get lemons."

Thirteen years old and nursing his first broken heart. A girl - the only girl he'd ever crushed on. He'd listened to the Smashing Pumpkins on repeat for three days straight, lying diagonally across his bed and refusing to leave his bedroom. His grandmother hadn't laughed at him, hadn't ordered him to come out and do his chores. She'd just left a old, battered tray outside his door, heaped with his favourite foods.

Twenty-one years old and nursing a different kind of broken heart, the kind that came with best friends turning against him and boyfriends pretending they'd never been anything to one another. She hadn't understood, not really, but she'd pushed his hair back from his face and kissed his forehead.

"I love you, Tommy, you know that. No matter what."
She was gone, now, nothing but the memories in his head. Tom fell heavily down on the stairs, pulling his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around his legs. He'd tried so hard to put this life away in a little box in his head, to pretend it hadn't mattered, hadn't made him who he was. Things would have been so much easier if he'd been able to believe it, to keep it up, but there was no getting away from it. Even at the Dandy house, there were things that reminded him of it, that brought the memories back so strongly that it almost left him breathless.He'd thought he was strong enough to do this. He hadn't been prepared for how much it hurt to be proven wrong.Tom closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against his knees. He was so tired now that the adrenaline was fading. He wanted to check the clock, see how long he'd been gone, maybe figure out how much time he had left, but it all depended on whether or not that vampire kept quiet, or anyone started looking for him.A knock at the door startled Tom so badly that he nearly fell off the step. He stared at it for a long moment, holding to the irrational hope that he'd imagined the sound. He knew it was stupid, but nothing else made sense. Why would someone who came to get him knock?Whoever was at the door knocked again and Tom felt his heart start to pound. He sat there for another minute before pulling himself to his feet and shuffling toward the door, the pain in his knees and ankle protesting every movement. His hand shook on the doorknob but he managed to grip it tightly enough to pull the door open.Nothing could have prepared him for what he found on the doorstep. He could feel the exact moment that his wary expression gave way to one of confusion, and finally to horror."Hello, Tom," Alex said, smiling a little sadly at him. "Are you going to invite me in?""What?" Tom asked, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes struggled to focus on any one thing about the man standing across from him."I know that I don't have to ask, you don't live here and the property owner is dead, but old habits die hard," he explained.Tom's mouth opened but no sound would come out. He closed it and tried again, only to have the same thing happen. Alex. Tom had been so sad when he'd left, he'd been so worried. He just couldn't process it, couldn't understand.Alex was here, on his grandmother's front step.He was dressed like a Dandy."No...." Tom said, voice hoarse. He shook his head and took a step backward, his eyes fixed on Alex's light blue tie. This wasn't right, Alex never dressed up. He hated suits, was more comfortable in faded jeans and a well-worn t-shirt. The closest he ever got to cleaned up was business-casual, and that was when he had to meet clients. He was an accountant, for fuck's sake."This isn't happening," Tom whispered.Alex reached out and grabbed one of Tom's injured hands, holding it palm-up between both of his. He bent his head quickly, his tongue darting out, licking lightly at the scrapes, not caring about the dirt mixed in with the blood.Tom jumped backward, cradling his hand against his chest as though he'd been burned. He stared at Alex with wide, wet eyes."I'm sorry," Alex said, his voice sounding so sincere. "That was cruel.""I'm... dreaming or something," Tom stuttered. "This isn't real.""I'm afraid it is," Alex told him, crossing the threshold and stepping into the house. Tom stared at him and found himself noticing stupid things, unimportant things like how his usually shaggy hair was neatly combed back, how he'd shaved, and how his walk was now so much more graceful. Tom shook his head again, more at himself than at Alex."I'm also sorry this is so hard on you. I didn't mean for you to find out this way." He shrugged, the motion momentarily pulling the fine suit taught across his shoulders."Did he break his promise?" Tom demanded, finally pulling himself out of the daze he'd been in. "He said he'd leave you alone if I came with him."But wait, that didn't make any sense. Mike hadn't had enough time to find Alex, and it wasn't like he had allies in Schecter's city to help.That was it then; the truth was staring Tom right in the face. He'd been such an idiot..."How long have you been one of them?" he asked, voice shaking."Tom -" Alex began."Is your name even Alex?" Tom demanded."I... yes," Alex said. "Alexander Greenwald, I didn't lie about that.""Only everything else," Tom spit. He backed up again, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the vampire as he could. Alex reached out for him but Tom jumped back, his eyes fixed warily on the Dandy's hands.
A strong grip, fingers digging into his skin. Holding him open. Holding him down....

Gentle hands sweeping the hair away from his face, tugging on the ends....

Fingers laced with his, pressed into the mattress on either side of Tom's head....
A lie, all of it. Tom had thought it was real, that he'd finally found someone. He’d been played for a fool."I did not," Alex said, offended. "You make it sound like you were a game, Tom. That's hardly fair."Tom laughed, the bitter sound nearly sticking in his throat. "Fair?" He asked. "What's fair about what you did? You knew, Alex. You knew who I was and what I left behind!""Yes, I knew," Alex said as he came closer. Tom moved away and quickly ran out of room when he felt the wall against his back. "We all knew who you were, Tom. How could we not, when you were staying right across the street, in the same building as our servants and our loved ones? And yes, some of us thought you were a fool who should have been sent back home the minute you crossed our border, but some of us admired your bravery.""Bravery," Tom huffed. "I left an old woman to die.""That was unfortunate," Alex remarked.Tom's hand was moving before he had time to consider the consequences. Alex caught it easily and forced it down at Tom's side. The boy twisted his wrist and drew his hand away, knowing full well that he'd only been able to because Alex had allowed it.Alex moved even closer, reaching up to touch Tom's face. Tom turned away and closed his eyes."Don't touch me," he said quietly. He blinked furiously, trying to ignore the sting in his eyes, and stared down at his shoes. He’d spent too much time crying already."Alright," Alex said, though he didn't step back. "But we should be getting you back to the safe house. It won't take long for someone to notice you're gone."Tom turned toward the open door and shuffled sideways, the wall rubbing roughly against his back as he tried to avoid touching the vampire. For the second time in as many days, he allowed himself to be led out of his grandmother's house, to a waiting car."How did you do it?" Tom asked finally, once he'd slumped into the passenger seat. He didn't need to elaborate, he knew Alex would understand."I'm an illusionist," Alex replied. "Not the strongest of my kind, but I can get the job done."Yeah. Tom really couldn't argue with that.-*-The drive back to the Dandy house was spent in uncomfortable silence. Alex barely paid attention to the road, preferring to stare at the boy beside him. Tom's eyes were closed and he was hunched in on himself. At one point he was rocking back and forth, but a hand on his shoulder pulled him out of that. Of course, the touch made him scramble away, pressing himself against the door, but at least the rhythmic back and forth motion had stopped.Alex had never left his own city in the fifty years since he'd been turned. He found it interesting to be negotiating strange streets, seeing the differences in boundaries, and the similarities as well. He wondered how long it would take before the urge to return home set in. It was different for everyone and he was hardly a young fledgling still a slave to his instincts, but Alex hoped that he'd be long finished with his current business before he felt the first stirrings of restlessness.The Dandy house in this city was lovely, but Alex much preferred his apartment back home. The manor was nice, a nod back to the first houses after they'd settled, but there was something to be said for the privacy of full apartments.The security code for the gate hadn't been changed since the last time one of Schecter's people had visited; Alex had no trouble making the gate swing open and driving up the laneway, despite the fact that he knew they left the cars outside the property. What kind of entrance would he make if he were to walk? Besides, Tom was hardly in any shape to walk that far.Alex gave him another worried glance and saw that the boy had pressed his forehead against the window, his gaze focused on the darkness outside. He sat silently, lost in his own thoughts.When he'd asked for permission to travel, Alex hadn't known what he'd find. Bryar's reports had been detailed when it came to the workings of the house, the crisis they were currently facing, but had been frustratingly vague about Tom himself. He'd never said anything beyond whether or not the boy was still alive, still human. Alex didn't fault him for that - he could hardly ask how Tom was holding up - but the lack of information had left him unsettled and worried.Mike Carden was not his favourite person. They'd met briefly when Alex was newborn, and he'd never forgotten the look of scorn in his face. Another Alex, he'd said, as though Alex weren't important in his own way, as though he were worthy of dismissal simply because of his given name and his sire's attraction to it. It hadn't been the only thing that had caught Schecter's eye, Alex had been assured of that over the years, but that first stinging criticism had stayed with him, never truly letting go.
The thought of Carden with his hands on Tom - a boy whose strength took Alex's breath away - left him feeling off balance and irritated.Pretending to be human hadn't been the best idea, Alex could acknowledge that. Schecter hadn't offered up an opinion on the matter, but that was hardly unusual. He'd often step back and let his Dandies make their own mistakes, so long as they wouldn't harm anyone else or the gang's position in the city. It was almost contradictory to encourage Alex in his obsession - he was breaking an age-old law, even if the boy's keeper lived in a city that was all but dead to them - but maybe he'd figured they couldn't sink any deeper. He had, after all, allowed the boy to stay.Alex put the car into park and cut the engine. He sat there for several moments, looking quietly over at Tom, waiting for him to show any sign of recognition. When he didn't, Alex turned his attention back to the house and saw Jon Walker standing on the front porch, frowning at him."Jon Walker," Alex called, opening the door and sliding out in one graceful motion. He took a few steps forward, drawing Jon's attention away from Tom, and smiled. "Schecter sends his love.""To tell the truth," Jon said wryly, "I think we can use a little less love at the moment."Alex laughed. "You don't mean that," he said."Two envoys in two days," Jon said, changing the subject as he made his way down the stairs. "Why are you here, Greenwald?""I'm returning a lost soul," Alex said, gesturing toward the car where Tom still sat in the passenger seat. "I found him at his grandmother's house.""And how did you know where that was?" Jon asked."Mapquest," Alex replied. He smiled at the flash of annoyance in Jon's eyes before turning back to the car, moving to open Tom's door and help the boy out. Tom darted away from him, hands fisted at his sides, and Alex's smile faltered. He took a small step backward and allowed Tom to hurry past him, though Alex made a point of following closely behind. Tom used to laugh at him for that, but Alex could never help it. He just smelled so good.Tom wouldn't find it so funny anymore."We have a full house," Jon said as he followed Alex and Tom into the house. Alex realized that before he'd even walked inside; the sound of beating, human hearts was far stronger than it should have been. He looked around and counted five humans milling about the foyer and the parlours. He could hear at least four more on the upper levels."I heard about your trouble," Alex said in reply. "I can stay with Bryar if accommodations are tight.""Right," Jon said slowly, drawing the word out slightly. Alex realized then that Jon didn't trust him. Moreover, that he was fully expecting Alex and Bryar to conspire against him. The thought annoyed Alex. He'd only been in the house less than five minutes. He hadn't even had time to present that kind of first impression."Do you know where Bryar is?" Alex asked brusquely."Probably in his suite. Third floor, second door on the right," Jon replied. Alex nodded and turned toward the stairs. He hesitated then, knowing it was not in his best interest but unable to stop himself."Will someone take care of him?" he asked, inclining his head toward Tom who was staring at his shoes, not speaking."I'll take him upstairs," Jon offered.Alex's smile was small but genuine. "Thank you," he said before hurrying away.
Alex knew that Bryar was inside the suite before he even opened the door. He didn't bother knocking, which would only irritate the elder vampire, but Alex figured there were worse things he could have done, given the circumstances. Besides, knocking would have ruined the look of surprise and shock on Bryar's face when he caught sight of Alex lounging in the doorway."What are you doing here?" Bryar demanded."Is that any way to greet me? I know Gabriel taught you better manners than that, because Schecter wouldn't have had it any other way." Alex was pushing his luck, but he found that he couldn't stop himself. The annoyance coursing through him was too strong to be put off.That didn't mean he wouldn't worry about it later, but for the moment Alex felt righteous in his anger."Hello, Alex," Bryar said dryly. "How are you this fine evening? What the hell are you doing here?""I asked to come," Alex said honestly. There was no point in lying about it. It was common knowledge, anyway, that Schecter could be almost doting when it came to his favourite children, and Alex was, after all, an Alex. "I was worried, Bryar. And I think I was right to worry."Bryar was insulted, that much was clear. He took a deep breath before asking, "And the cause of your worry?""You've been distracted," Alex said smoothly. "The hunters have taken your attention. Gabriel hinted about it, but he never did come out and tell Schecter who'd managed to enthral you."Bryar snorted at the phrasing, but Alex didn't mind. Bryar was Bryar and Alex couldn't hold it against him."I am not distracted," Bryar insisted."Oh?" Alex asked. "Where were you tonight?""Since when do I have to account for my whereabouts? I was asked to keep an eye on the house, and I have," Bryar hissed, leaning close to Alex as he spoke. He was so angry, Alex could feel it, but he held his ground, looking calmly back."Watch the house, yes," Alex said. "But you've forgotten that Tom is part of the house.""Tom is a troublemaker," Bryar said."Maybe so, but he's our troublemaker," Alex replied."No," Bryar said, nearly yelling the word. "You've forgotten in the last year, but he is not ours. He belongs to this city, and to that mesmerist. He didn't give himself to you, Greenwald. He gave himself to Carden, and Carden is not going to let him undo that, no matter how much you - and certain others - might want him to." Bryar moved away from him then, heading for the door. He didn't look back as he left the suite, disappearing down the corridor.Alex followed, unwilling to let things stay as they were. He knew the moment Bryar caught sight of Tom. Jon was leading him up the stairs, one hand hovering over the small of his back, ready to steer him in the right direction should he stop or try to go elsewhere. Alex watched Tom's slow movements and his breath caught in his throat when Tom looked up and locked eyes with him. His gaze was empty, holding none of the spark that had attracted Alex all those months ago."You're so self-righteous," Bryar said, watching Alex carefully as he continued to track Tom's every movement. "Well, congratulations,Alex. You managed to do what Carden couldn't. You broke him.""No," Alex said softly, turning away from Tom to look at Bryar. "He won't break. Tom might bend, but... even the best of us have to do that now and then.""You have too much hope," Bryar said, shaking his head."Who needs hope when you've got family ties?" Alex asked. Bryar looked at him sharply and Alex toyed with the idea of withholding the information as punishment for the poor treatment he'd received from Gabriel's first fledgling. He quickly pushed the thought away. He'd been the one to set the tone, after all."He had a vision, you know. Many years ago.""That much I gathered," Bryar said. "From things he told me before I came here.""It was about me and Tom," Alex said. "That boy is going to save my life someday."Bryar didn't have anything to say to that. Neither did Alex, really.-*-The rest of the night passed in a blur for Tom. He vaguely remembered someone putting him to bed, but when he blinked his eyes open just after sunrise, he wasn't sure what he'd dreamed and what had actually happened. It took him a moment to realize that no, he hadn't dreamed Alex, that part was real. He pressed the heels of his hands tightly against his eyes, pushing until red spots danced across his closed lids. Now that he was more coherent, better able to remember what happened the night before, the hollow feeling was back in his stomach.Christ. Alex.Had it all been a lie, every second of it?
A chance meeting on a street corner, coffee slopped all down a stranger's expensive leather jacket.

"I'm sorry, man," Tom apologized, trying to clean some of it up with the handful of napkins he'd grabbed for his muffin.

"I'm Alex," the guy said, completely unconcerned with his jacket. "Let me buy you another cup."

"Do you like pictures?" Alex asked, picking up Tom's camera and looking through the lens. He was holding it wrong as he pretended to snap a photo. He looked ridiculous but Tom couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"Yeah," he said. "Something like that."

"Hey Tom. Sorry I'm late." Alex's smile was a little goofy as he stood outside Tom's apartment, hands in the pockets of his jeans. Tom just shook his head and stepped aside to let him in. "Guess what?" Alex continued.

"What?"

Alex leaned in and fit his mouth over Tom's, kissing him slowly before pulling away.
So many nice memories, thoughts so vivid that Tom could practically feel them. Too bad they weren't real.Had they laughed about him, back at the safe house? Stupid Tom Conrad: he runs away from the vampires... straight to a whole new set of them.Had it been a game? Did Schecter let him stay so his people would have something to do?Tom sniffed and burrowed down farther into his blankets. At least it was daytime, he could be miserable all by himself."I'm glad you're awake," a voice said from the doorway to the bedroom. "I might feel like an asshole if I dragged you out of bed.""Fuck off, Ryan," Tom said. He thought briefly of fighting his way out of the blankets so he could glare but decided that it wasn't worth the effort."That would make you happy, so no," Ryan said. "You should know by now that you can't always get what you want.""Are you seriously quoting the Stones at me?" Tom demanded, finally finding a way out of his nest of blankets. He looked at Ryan as though he'd gone crazy. Ryan just stared right back, not saying anything for awhile."I saw them bring you in last night," Ryan said eventually. "You were pretty out of it.""That's none of your fucking business," Tom snapped. "If you want to talk, go find your friend. He seems like he's actually got some brains in his head. Maybe some of it will rub off on you.""You don't think much of me, do you?" Ryan asked, tilting his head to the side. "That's surprising. Most people at least get to know me before they brush me off.""I don't need to know you," Tom said. "You're here, aren't you? That makes you stupid. Or naive. Pick one.""I'm not sure if you've noticed, Tom, but you're here, too. And from the way Brendon tells it, you chose this life.""Because I didn't know," Tom insisted."What did you think you were getting into?" Ryan asked, curious."It's not that," Tom said, deflating somewhat. "I knew what they were, but I just....""Just what?" Ryan pressed."You should be home with your parents," Tom snapped. "Not sitting here, bothering me.""My mother's long gone," Ryan said easily, showing none of the vulnerability that had come out with his friend the night before. "And my father's a drunk who probably doesn't have long left to live. But you didn't actually expect me to agree with you, you've worked out for yourself that things aren't quite right with me. You're smart, after all.""Don't talk like you know me," Tom said, shaking his head."Then stop telling me what I should be doing," Ryan replied. "I know what I'm doing here.""Do you really?" Tom drawled, leaning back against the headboard. He fixed Ryan with a dark look. "So you just wandered in here on your own after reading the brochure? You've never had second thoughts?"Ryan didn't answer him and Tom smiled. The expression wasn't very nice."Where is he sleeping?" Tom pressed. Ryan looked confused at the change of subject."In our bed," Ryan said warily, after a moment."It would be so easy to save yourself, Ryan," Tom said, moving so that he was on his knees, a little closer to the other boy. His voice took on an urging tone. "He was dumb enough to fall asleep beside you, that makes him vulnerable. A stake is all you need, and you can make one out of any piece of furniture. Dandies aren't very smart... they keep decorating with wood." Tom smiled again and leaned forward. "I could do it for you.""The fuck you will!" Ryan yelled, reaching out and shoving Tom hard against the headboard. Tom didn't fight back, despite outweighing Ryan by at least twenty pounds. He laughed as Ryan tightened his hold in Tom's shirt. He wondered if Ryan was going to try and shake him and the thought made him laugh even more."Tell me," Tom asked, once he'd stopped laughing enough to be able to breathe. "Did Brendon fuck with your head? Maybe make you think there was nothing wrong with the suggestions he was giving you?""Did you know that I have visions?" Ryan countered. "Sometimes I can see the future. Just like Schecter can."What?Tom got very quiet then, staring at Ryan in disbelief."Didn't know that, did you?" Ryan asked innocently. "The way I figure it - and I'm not alone in this, not at all - you and he must have gotten pretty cozy. And considering the fact that one of Schecter's people brought you back last night, that pretty much proves it. So did he ever tell you about his talent? It's pretty awesome, I can assure you. There's a reason everyone's afraid of him."Ryan leaned in closer, a small smile playing on his lips. "They call him the puppet master," he said softly, as though confiding a secret. "I wonder why.""Fuck you!" Tom yelled, shoving Ryan away. The other boy laughed, even as he fell off the bed."Who knows?" he continued. "Maybe one day I'll dream about you, too.""Get the fuck out of here!" Tom yelled. He reached for the nearest object to throw, his hand closing around the bronze lamp on the bedside table. Ryan dodged it easily, moving to stand at the foot of the bed."What's wrong, you can dish it out but can't take it?" he asked seriously. "You can scare Spencer with comments about his parents, you can threaten Brendon, but you can't handle it when I point out a teeny, tiny possibility?""I was going to come home," Tom said, the words just slipping out. He wanted to clap a hand over his mouth once they were out, but he forced himself to keep his hands where they were, fisted in the bedclothes. He hadn't meant to say anything, but it wasn't that Ryan had pointed out a teeny tiny possibility. He'd pointed out the glaringly obvious."Yeah?" Ryan asked warily, clearly unsure about Tom's sudden sharing. Tom was silent for awhile, not sure if he wanted to continue."I had my bags packed," Tom said several minutes later, when Ryan finally turned away, having given up on the conversation."So what happened?" Ryan asked.Tom looked up at him then, hating that his eyes were wet. "I met Alex," he said softly.Ryan just stood there, unsure of what to say.
Tom spent most of the day in bed, the blankets pulled up under his chin as he stared at the wall. It was far too warm in the room for the heavy duvet, but he was unwilling to give it up, no matter how uncomfortable he felt. It was childish to think that nothing could get him if he just stayed covered up, but no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't able to make his fingers let go.He wasn't surprised when his blanket shield didn't work. After all, the things bothering Tom were in his head. No blanket could keep that away.
"I had my bags packed."
The words were still replaying in his mind, the echo loud and uncomfortable. He'd never confided that piece of information to anyone before. Why did it have to be Ryan?Tom could still see the look of shock on the boy's face, the unsteady way that he stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Ryan had probably wondered if he should apologize for being such a dick, but Tom wasn't about to make anything easy on him. Truth was, the kid had shocked him, too, with the angry, dangerous way he'd fought back. Tom had figured he'd take a swing - most people did, it was a gut reaction - but no. Ryan had a brain in his head, he knew the best way to hurt someone.Tom thought back to the knowing look Ryan had given him in the hallway and pulled his blanket a little closer. Maybe the kid belonged here, then. He'd been quick to defend the vampire.
"The fuck you will!"
So much loyalty. What had Brendon done to deserve it? No matter what Tom did, he kept coming back to the fact that Ryan was smart. So very smart, and he didn't act like someone who'd been mindfucked. Tom had seen his share of mesmerism in action. He'd watched Mike closely during their time together, and he'd even had opportunity to wonder while he was away, to watch as protests gradually fell apart and things happened the way he wanted them to.It was nothing huge or even all that unexplainable, if he'd cared enough to find a rational explanation, but how often had he stopped and asked himself what was going on? How often had he been desperate enough to keep to himself, to keep his secrets to himself, only for some nosey classmate to suddenly stop pushing? At the time, he'd tried to avoid thinking about it too closely, but... maybe it made sense.
"Did you know that I have visions?"
Ryan was marked. Is that why? No one had ever explained that as a possibility to Tom before, just that his sight might get sharper, or his hearing a little clearer. Of course, Tom had been marked more than once.... Was this the side effect?He didn't know.He tried to sleep again but found that it was no use. He'd dozed off and on for most of the day and now his body was wide awake. He scowled at the wall, shuffling around on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. Moving around helped give him something else to do for a few minutes, but once he was settled again - on his other side this time, facing the bedroom door - Tom was once again left with nothing to do. Nothing to think about besides Ryan's sad eyes and a story that Tom hadn't ever told anyone.
"It was so hard at first. School, a job, being by myself. I didn't have any friends because I couldn't risk it. I missed my grandmother."
"But you did risk it," Ryan said. He stayed where he was, at the foot of the bed. Tom was glad for that; the last thing he wanted was for Ryan to do something stupid like touch him.
"Yeah, well," Tom laughed bitterly, the sound nearly sticking in his throat. "I guess I'm an asshole. Not that it mattered. He was one of them. The whole time."
Ryan hadn't tried to comfort him, hadn't told Tom about how not all Dandies were evil, how some of them had actual feelings, blah, blah, blah. Tom supposed Ryan saved his platitudes for Spencer. That, at least, would make sense.Tom wondered how long it would take for the gossip to spread around the house. He wasn't very confident in Ryan's secret keeping abilities and that made him feel like even more of an idiot. What kind of judge of character was he? First Mike, then Alex, now Ryan. Maybe Bryar was right and Tom was too damn stupid to live long.With a sigh, Tom slowly peeled his fingers away from the edge of the blanket and drew it back. He shivered a little as the cooler air of the room hit his overheated skin, but it felt nice. He lay there for several minutes, hands pressed flat against his stomach, and made himself take deep, even breaths. He could do this. He could.Tom sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Standing up took another moment, but he forced himself to do it. A pair of jeans and a t-shirt were folded on the chair near the bedroom door, both items taken from the bag he'd packed so long ago. Wait, was it only a few days? Tom was shocked to realize it. He couldn't even remember if he'd brought his bag back to the manor with him. The thought of someone going back for it was a strange one.He pulled on the new clothes, leaving his old ones in a heap on the floor. Christ, he'd been wearing the same shit for days, it should probably be burned instead of washed. The well-worn cloth felt nice against his skin, even though he should have showered first. It wasn't important, he thought. He could do it later. It was after sundown and no one had disturbed him; Tom didn't quite know what that meant, but he didn't think it could possibly be good.The door to the suite was unlocked and partially ajar. Tom pushed it open and stepped out into the hallway, trying to ignore the humans who were talking quietly in the corner near his door. He couldn't help but hear part of their conversation as he hurried away."All four of them are dead," a wide-eyed girl said. "But so far no sign of Greta.""Nate or Michael?" a young boy asked, voice barely above a whisper."Nothing, but then... it's not like there would be...." the girl replied.Tom didn't hear the boy's reaction to that.At first he thought the increased tension in the house was because of the dead humans. Two were house staff, one of them the girl with no name, Tom learned. Two had been marked, in line to be turned. Anger was understandable, property had gone missing, was being destroyed. It was like the time some clumsy fuck had knocked his camera to the ground. Tom had been plenty angry about that.He pulled on the hem of his t-shirt and made his way down the stairs. The foyer was crowded so he headed for the corridor on the left, heading away from the kitchen. Maybe he'd find a quiet corner there. If not, he could always try for under the stairs. He didn't even bother trying the music room again.Tom made his way past several closed doors, not paying them any attention. Instead, he kept his eyes on the end of the hallway, moving closer until he was finally sliding down the wall to curl up in the corner. His eyes had just fallen closed when he heard voices coming from one of the nearby rooms."We all want revenge, Sean, you're not unique in that." It was Brendon, Tom would know his voice anywhere. He grit his teeth and tried not to picture what he'd told Ryan to do. His fingers twitched a little, as though tightening around the stake he'd threatened to make."You're not listening," Sean hissed."Yes, I am," Brendon said sharply. "Your boy is gone. They killed him, and he was a good kid. A smart fucking kid who didn't deserve to end up in an alleyway.""Not any alley," Sean said. "The one I hunted most nights. They killed him and left him there for me to find."He sounded sad, Tom thought. Almost lost.What an act.He was momentarily distracted by the muffled sounds of clothing against clothing, low words too quiet for him to make out. Tom's mind immediately went to thoughts of comfort - the Dandies he knew of liked to touch. Was Brendon trying to make Sean feel better? Tom had no frame of reference for that."I wanted to keep him." It was said softly, almost bitterly."I know," Brendon replied.The door was opening then, the two vampires stepping out into the hallway, not at all surprised to see Tom sitting there. He didn't even try to pretend that he hadn't been eavesdropping."You shouldn't even be here," Sean said, stepping closer to Tom. Brendon moved forward too, the grimace on his face clearly saying that the vampire didn't like having to put himself between Tom and his friend."Carden should have killed you as soon as you came back,” Sean said. “Lord knows Schecter should have done it the second he saw you.""Sean," Brendon said, his voice low, warning."No," Sean said, turning a glare toward Brendon before he went back to staring Tom down. "Everyone's so fucking afraid of the Seer that they're letting him break the rules. They're letting this kid break the rules. It's just like Beckett," Sean spit."Watch your mouth," Brendon said, moving closer, crowding into Sean's personal space. "You don't know what you're talking about if you're comparing Jon Walker to William Beckett.""No?" Sean asked with a laugh. The sound set Tom's teeth on edge. "How is what Alex did any different than what Beckett did? Sticky fingers. He takes what doesn't belong to him.""There are other circumstances -" Brendon began. Sean cut him off."Don't give me that," he said. "Schecter's supposed to be so powerful. I guess he didn't see this coming, then.""Take a walk, van Vleet," Brendon said, voice hard. His face was twisted into a mask of fury and Tom found himself pressing closer to the wall. Sean laughed again, another horrible, bitter sound."Sure," he said easily. "I suppose my boy should be put in the ground. It's respectful.""Go," Brendon said again.Sean went."I didn't do that for you," Brendon said after a moment. He fixed Tom with an inscrutable look and slipped his hands into his pockets."I didn't think you had," Tom murmured."Schecter...." Brendon seemed at a loss for words all of a sudden. "You don't mock him. And you don't disrespect him. I've spent time in his house, I know that he doesn't act rashly.""So?" Tom asked."So," Brendon said, frowning down at Tom. "He knew what would happen. Even if he didn't See it... he's smart enough to know. Something was important enough that... this... didn't matter.""I don't know," Tom said. "I don't really care, either."It still stung, knowing that they'd all used him, lied to him. He'd found a place for himself and it hadn't even been real."Well, you should," Brendon replied. "Look at yourself. You're hardly worth keeping like this.""Is that supposed to make me react?" Tom asked."Yes," Brendon said simply. "You can only push so much, Tom. Eventually you're going to go too far, and not even Carden's pride will be enough to save you.""Maybe I don't want to be saved," Tom said, his voice barely above a whisper. Brendon laughed in his face."If that was true, you'd already be dead. There are so many sharp things in the kitchen. And the balconies.... a nice swan dive would do it, don't you think?"Tom stared up at the vampire in shocked silence."And there's always the wood furniture," Brendon continued.Oh. Fucking Ryan, Tom thought."Let me make one thing very clear to you, Tom," Brendon said slowly, kneeling down so he and Tom were at eye-level. "If you scare him like that again, I will make very sure that you have a terrible accident. I'd think twice before going against Carden, and I'd probably never go against Schecter so openly, but I will keep Ryan safe. Don't threaten to stake him again."Ryan? It took Tom a moment to put it all together. He lied. Ryan had looked Brendon in the face and lied to him.Tom wished he knew why."Carden was good to you, before," Brendon continued. "And maybe Alex was even better, I don't know. I was young when I last saw him and I was too wrapped up in the excitement of travelling, the experience of having Jon Walker's attention, to really care about one single member of that family. But you need to realize that being with us isn't the end of everything.""Just the end of my life," Tom said bitterly."Life comes in many different forms," Brendon replied."Did that work on Ryan?""No," Brendon smiled."It's not working on me, either," Tom informed him."I didn't think it would," Brendon admitted. "But here's something that might. While we're busy dealing with your bullshit, we're not taking care of our own people. Do you think those four people would still be alive if you weren't such a distraction?"
Tom's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out."Do you know what it's like for us to lose someone?" Brendon continued. "You think we're pretty heartless, and many of us are, actually. It's not a wrong assessment, I guess, but when it comes to our loved ones? It's unnecessarily cruel to take them from us. All we have is a very long life, we need someone to share it with. Losing that... well, it's a lot like losing your grandmother, I suppose.""Don't," Tom hissed, trying to recoil. He was already flat against the wall and had nowhere to go."Was that a low blow?" Brendon asked innocently. "You would know, wouldn't you? You've been taking them since you got here." He laughed a little. "I guess you fit right in.""No," Tom shook his head."End this, Tom. We have enough to deal with these days, without adding puppetry to the mix. Send Alex home, make him take Bryar with him, and fix this."Tom didn't watch as Brendon walked away. He just wrapped his arms around his knees and hung his head.
Tom had no intention of even humouring Brendon. He did his best to block out his words, at one point even pressing his hands to his ears before he realized how stupid that was. After awhile he got to his feet, wandering around the manor and keeping his eyes on the ground.Fucking Brendon he thought. How dare he tell Tom that this was all his fault? He'd never asked to be used in this game. Maybe Schecter should have just killed him, it's what Tom had expected, wasn't it?But he'd been so, so relieved when hadn’t happened.
"I wanted to keep him," Sean said softly, almost bitterly.
Tom bit his lip and kept walking, doing his best not to hear the words echoing in his head.
"I will keep Ryan safe."
Stupid Brendon. Tom shook his head angrily.
"They found Celeste in a Dumpster."
Christopher, Jon had called him. Mourning and bitter.Tom pulled at his hair and all but ran up the stairs to the second floor.
"I have more than one sad little boy in my line."
Bryar's words about the Butcher. Did that explain why he'd been holding so tightly to that fledgling?"All we have is a very long life, we need someone to share it with."Brendon again. Tom slammed the door to the suite and leaned against it. This wasn't fair.Fair.What, exactly, did that mean?With a groan, Tom lurched across the lounge on unsteady feet, heading for the French doors that led out to the balcony. He leaned heavily against the railing, fighting the retching of his stomach, pressing shaking hands to his face.There was someone on the grounds, not far away. Tom's hands came down and he gripped the railing tightly as he realized who it was. Jon Walker and Spencer. They were too far away for Tom to hear specifics, but he could make out the low, soothing tone of Jon's voice, could see that it was working, given the way Spencer swayed toward him. Gentle hands pushed back the hair in the boy's face, tipped his head to the side for a kiss. The boy threw himself into it, winding himself around Jon, giving him what he wanted.It was incredibly intimate to watch, and Tom felt dirty for staring at something he wasn't ever meant to see."God," he groaned, turning away and sliding to the ground, the railing digging into his back. What was he thinking? Could he really do this for them?No, not for them. But...."We all knew who you were, Tom. How could we not, when you were staying right across the street, in the same building as our servants and our loved ones? And yes, some of us thought you were a fool who should have been sent back home the minute you crossed our border, but some of us admired your bravery."Alex.Even after everything Tom knew, he couldn't just turn his feelings off. He was human. Nothing was ever that easy when you were human, but that didn't mean he didn't love it.Funny how he was about to stop fighting for that.It wasn't easy to get to his feet, to make his way to the bedroom closet. Most of it was filled with Mike's clothes, but he still had a few pieces tucked into the corner. With trembling hands, he pulled them from the hangers and made his way toward the bathroom.He spent a long time in the shower, letting the heat soak into his muscles, the steam clear his head. He stood naked in front of the mirror once he got out, dripping all over the tile floor. Would he look different, after? Tom shook his head and reached for a towel, quickly drying his body and rubbing hard at his hair. It wasn't worth contemplating.There were scissors in the cabinet. Tom had never cut his own hair before, but he took his time, trying to work with the contours of his face. He only took an inch off the bottom, careful not to make it too uneven. They could work with it later. It didn't matter.He took out his piercings after that, dropping the small hoops down the drain. His face looked different without them. Younger, somehow. More vulnerable.Turning away from the mirror, Tom got dressed. Trousers. Shirt. Tie. Waistcoat. Suit jacket. Socks. Shoes. He didn't glance at the mirror, didn't care to know what he looked like. He just made his way out of the bathroom and then out of the suite.He didn't allow himself to listen to the murmurs as he went upstairs. It was only stupid humans, anyway, no Dandies to ruin the surprise.Tom stopped in front of the second door on the right. He knocked hard against the solid oak, nearly gasping at the pain in his knuckles. It wasn't long before the door opened."What have you done?" Alex asked, shocked as he stared openly with a look of disbelief."I'm ending this," Tom said. He pushed past the vampire and came into the room, looking around to see if Bryar was in the suite. They appeared to be alone and Tom was grateful for that. The one flaw in his plan had been dealing with the other Dandy."What are you talking about? This doesn't end anything!" Alex insisted. His hands opened and closed at his sides, as though he wanted to touch but wasn't sure if it was a good idea."You need to go home. Things here are... they're bad," he said lamely. "Everyone is so angry. We're going to have a fight on our hands if you stay.""You little idiot, we're going to have a fight either way!" Alex yelled. He did touch then, reaching out and shaking Tom twice by the shoulders."Because you broke the rules," Tom said."Yes!" Alex exclaimed. "What Schecter did, they could maybe overlook that. He could spin it, say he was keeping you safe for the day that the borders were open again, but what can I say, Tom? I wanted to keep you. You belonged to someone else and I didn't care."
"I wanted to keep him," Sean said softly, almost bitterly.
Tom tried not to think of the similarities."What did he See?" Tom asked instead. "There has to be more to it.""There's always more to it when it comes to him," Alex said, looking a little surprised at how much Tom knew. "That doesn't mean I'm prepared to share it.""Even now?" Tom pressed."Even now," Alex replied. "I won't give you more than you can handle," he said softly.His fingers squeezed down on Tom's shoulders before his hands moved up the boy's neck, cupping his face. He and Tom stared at each other for several long moments, neither saying anything. Finally, Tom reached up and pulled Alex's hands away. The vampire took a small step back at that, but Tom followed him, closing the distance between them once more.Kissing Alex had always been good. Like spending hours searching for the perfect shot, or carefully developing a roll of photos, it was one of those things Tom thought he could do forever without wanting to stop. He didn't take it slow this time. There was no point in kissing him chastely or licking hesitantly at Alex's lips, asking for more. The kiss was deep from the beginning, Tom melting against Alex's body, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders.He'd thought about this so much in the first few hours of coming here, but memories really didn't compare to the real thing - Alex solid against him, skin a little cooler than he remembered, but fingers just as strong as they dug into his back, his waist, the curve of his ass. Tom pulled back to draw in a deep, shaky breath, and then dove right back in. His tongue was careful around Alex's fangs.How had he managed to avoid cutting himself before? Tom pushed the thought away. All that mattered was the way their bodies moved together, the friction, the way Tom's nails kept scraping along Alex's shoulders, his neck, the back of his head.The vampire had him up against the wall in no time, a thigh pressed tightly between Tom's legs. The boy groaned into the kiss, his hands fisting in Alex's hair. He worried that he would pull some of the strands out, but Alex didn't complain. He just pressed in closer, hands flat against the small of Tom's back, and let him shudder it out."Please," Tom said softly, hips working against Alex's.Alex didn't tease, not like he usually did when they were together. Christ, Tom remembered hours spent swearing and begging for Alex to just do something already. He didn't allow himself to think about why Alex was getting right down to it. There was no sense in ruining everything.The Dandy didn't seem to care about wrinkling his pants as he got to his knees. He made short work of Tom's belt and the hook closure on his trousers, but took his time with the zipper, easing it down over the hard line of Tom's cock. The trousers pooled at Tom's feet, but when he went to step out of them, he found himself spun around, the side of his face pressed against the wall."Stay like that," Alex said, his voice gone low, gravelly. Tom nodded, his cheek dragging against the smooth plaster wall. He shivered as Alex grabbed his shirttails, holding them out of the way with one hand as he spread Tom open with the other. Tom's breath stuttered out as he felt the first swipe of Alex's tongue. They never did this, god, but he'd wanted to....He forced himself to keep breathing, deep breaths that filled his lungs and shuddered out as he focused on what was happening to him. He was partial to broad strokes with the flat of Alex's tongue, but he found he couldn't get enough of quick, fluttering passes or teasing circles. Tom's thoughts might have short circuited when Alex pushed inside, his hands scrabbling across the wall and hips rolling backward."Alex," he moaned. The vampire pulled away, rising quickly to his feet and offering two of his fingers.It wasn't going to be easy that way, but the thought of stopping - even long enough to find something suitable - bothered Tom more than he wanted to admit. He grabbed hold of Alex's hand, holding it between both of his, and opened his mouth. He did what he could to get the fingers wet, knowing that it would go a lot better for him if he did."Think you can do it?" Alex asked. It was an actual question, Tom could tell. If he said no, Alex wouldn't push him. Tom tugged on Alex's hand, pulled the fingers from his mouth, and nodded.It was slow going at first: Tom willing his body to just relax, Alex doing his best to stay still, even if his best wasn't really all that good. Tom shuddered, pillowing his head against his folded arms, and made a low sound in his throat. Alex took it for the permission it was, rolling his hips forward.It wasn't going to last, there was no way that Tom could hold out, not once it got good and he found himself moving back to meet each thrust of Alex's hips. He kept hitting that spot, and Alex's hands were so tight on his waist, fingers digging in until it almost hurt. Tom didn't mind, he wanted to remember it, even if it was only for a little while, but he did hope that there wouldn't be any visible marks.It took Tom a moment to realize that Alex was saying something, his lips moving over the back of Tom's neck as he fucked him. It was hard to understand, Alex's voice was pitched too low, but Tom clamped his mouth shut, tried not to breathe too loudly, and focused on Alex's voice."Not ready to let go."There were two ways to take that, Tom knew. He didn't care if he was deliberately misinterpreting it."Come on, Alex," he said. "C’mon.""Tom...." Alex seemed unhappy. Tom could feel the twist of his mouth."I want it," he moaned.Tom got what he wanted in the end. Alex's hips stuttered, unable to keep to his rhythm. He came soon after, scraping his teeth against the back of Tom's neck, digging his fingers into Tom's sides almost cruelly. One of those hands moved, then, wrapping around his dick, bringing him off in quick, tight strokes. Tom came against the wall and didn't care who would have to clean it up."Damn," he said, wincing a little as Alex pulled away. Tom didn't look at him as he tried to rearrange his clothing. He'd never look presentable, not when his trousers were wrinkled and he reeked of sweat and sex, but at least he might be able to hurry back to the suite to change without attracting too much attention. Once he was finished fiddling, Tom stood there awkwardly, looking around the room for a moment before finding his courage and turning his gaze to Alex."This isn't you, Tom," he said, reaching out to tug on Tom's tie. "This should never be you.""But it will be," Tom said softly. "It was always going to end this way, Alex. It just took me some time to realize that."It killed him a little to say it."I'll find a way around this," Alex insisted. It almost sounded like a promise, but Tom found he was fresh out of hope."Don't," he said instead, shaking his head. "Just... go. Okay? Tomorrow evening?""Tomorrow evening," Alex repeated. Tom nodded after a moment and tried to offer up a smile."Goodbye," he said.Alex didn't reply.-*-To say that Bryar was annoyed was an understatement. Thanks to Greenwald's near-constant terrible decision-making skills, he was unable to use his suite to avoid not only Jon Walker's more irritating associates, but also the humans who'd taken up residence in the safe house. Not only that, but the hunting was terrible. Regular humans were good enough for food, but when it came to sport, Bryar wanted something more substantial. He didn't know as much about the hunters in this city - his speciality was, understandably, the genealogy of his own's city's hunters - but there were some family names that were important enough for Bryar to recognize. Iero. Flowers. Toro.The problem was, none of those families would come out and play, so he was stuck with second-rate fare.He thought briefly back to the night before, to watching a hunter being beaten on the ground, to feeling the fight drain out of two Hoods as he took their lives for that very slight. If he couldn't hunt the hunters, he'd at least enjoy a verbal sparring.
Bryar set off for the more run-down side of town, wondering if the evening could still be salvaged. Maybe, if he could find Joseph Trohman.Joe. Bryar shuddered at the common name. So inelegant, so harsh on the ears. Maybe in time that would change, but it wasn't always so. There were a few Dandies who chose to go by shortened forms of their given names. Walker, for one. Carden, when he wasn't using his surname. Mikey.Bryar pushed that thought away. Thinking about home wasn't a good idea when he was already weary of this city. He continued walking down the darkened street, thinking about nothing at all.It wasn't long before he realized he was no longer alone. It was a human, Bryar could tell that much from the scrape of shoes on pavement. There was also a hint of blood, either a fresh scrape or a slowly-healing injury. Bryar smiled a little to himself but didn't look back, opting to continue on his path. The hunter wasn't close enough for Bryar to identify him, but the vampire decided to play along for the time being. After all, there wasn't much else to do.The Dandy led his stalker clear across town, toying with him by speeding up or slowing down, by taking to the rooftops or ducking into random 24-hour businesses.He tired of the game after more than an hour."You might as well come out, little hunter," Bryar called. "This has gone on long enough."He knew who it was well before he could see him. As the boy approached, Bryar caught his scent, one he knew well.It was Joe. A small bandage was taped to the side of his head."What did you do?" Joe demanded. He was angry, his body tense and nearly vibrating, it was so tightly strung. His left arm moved slightly, drawing Bryar's attention. He was holding a stake."How much time do you have?" Bryar asked with a laugh. "I've done many, many things. Can you narrow it down to a decade, at least?""All hell breaks loose whenever you come to town," Joe insisted."I'm flattered," Bryar said. "But I still don't know what you're talking about."Joe let out a frustrated noise and came closer, raising the stake to chest level. He was furious, but there was something about his eyes that made Bryar take notice. Desperation. Something had happened."What did you do?" Joe repeated. "Who did you piss off?""By coming here? Everyone," Bryar replied. "Every Dandy and every Hood, I would imagine. I did kill two of them last night, all to save you.""I thought it was random," Joe said. "It wouldn't be the first time the gangs tried to grab one of us. I would even understand if it was the Dandies. We killed that envoy and almost got Butcher's fledgling. But it's not them, which means it can't be us, do you understand?""Quite frankly? No," Bryar said. "I've never seen a hunter babble before. It'll make a great story when I go home, but as for right now, Joe, you really need to start making sense." This last was said assertively, all traces of playfulness disappearing as Bryar came a few steps closer. Something was wrong, Gerard's people were in trouble, and Bryar had already lost enough credibility on this trip. He wasn't about to lose anything else."They took Patrick," Joe said, taking a half-step backward to keep some distance between himself and the vampire. "The Hoods.""How?""Patrick and I were scouting a new safe house. Our other one was compromised." He fixed Bryar with an irritated look before continuing. "They must have staked out the likeliest places, because someone was waiting.""Did you see who it was?" Bryar asked. Joe shook his head and pointed to the bandage taped to his temple. "Then why would you think it was the Hoods?"Joe reached into the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt, pulling out a blue bandana. "No one else wears these.""No, they don't," Bryar said, keeping his voice neutral."I just don't get it. The Hoods have a short attention span," Joe went on. "They've never set traps for us before. They'll try something if we cross paths, but elaborate set ups? Lying in wait? That's never happened before.""And you think it's my fault," Bryar said after a moment."Obviously!" Joe yelled. "You said something to them last night! They took it as a challenge.""I told the truth," Bryar said. "But that's beside the point, Joe, because it might not even be the Hoods who did this. It's easy enough to drop a bandana somewhere." His tone of voice said clearly what he thought of Joe's detective work. "You are right about one thing, though," he said."What?" Joe asked suspiciously."Something is very wrong in this city. Our people are going missing. Humans, mostly, but two of the fledglings as well."A look came over Joe's face then, recognition or something very like it."Share with the rest of the class," Bryar said, making a joke of it but fixing Joe with a look serious enough to tell the human that it wasn't a request."There are rumours," Joe said after a moment. "We laughed at first.""What rumours?" Bryar demanded, emphasizing each word, putting the full force of his impatience behind them."A Dandy who looked like hell," Joe said, trying to shrug it off. "Clothes a mess and kind of bloody. Hadn't fed for days. He made it down the street before someone got him."Bryar was moving before the boy could even see it. He reached out and grabbed hold of the human's clothes, twisting his fingers in the fabric. The stake clattered across the pavement."Where?" he demanded."Eagleside," Joe said, eyes wide and voice barely above a whisper.Bryar smiled. "Thank you," he said.The smile clearly unsettled the boy, but it did what the vampire intended it to: it distracted him while Bryar knocked him out again.-*-Tom thought he was being courteous by putting the aspirin and water on the bedside table, but in truth, he knew that they were too far for the hunter to reach. He'd have to stretch in order to get it, and he would most likely give up if his headache was too bad and moving was too difficult. It was petty, Tom knew, but it was the least he could do. This was the hunter who'd distracted Bryar. Even though Tom had resigned himself to what would happen, he couldn't help but wonder how things would have gone if Bryar had something else to occupy his attention. At the very least, maybe Alex wouldn't have felt the need to show up."Ugh," the boy in the bed moaned, his eyelids fluttering as he came to.Tom sat in the wingback chair and tried to be patient. It wasn't his strong suit."Motherfucker," Joe cursed."Yeah," Tom replied. "I get that."The hunter jerked his head toward Tom, immediately closing his eyes against the pain, pressing his palm to his mouth as his stomach churned. After a moment, Joe opened his eyes again, glaring over at Tom. It took awhile before recognition dawned."What the fuck, man, you got away!" Joe exclaimed, as best as he was able without hurting his head anymore. He eyed the aspirin and water warily, knowing without trying that it was too far for him."Yeah, well," Tom said, wondering whether there was anyone in the damn city who didn't already know his story. "Sometimes you have to think of other people."Joe went quiet at that. Tom wondered if he was thinking about Patrick. Or about how he'd gone to Bryar, of all people, for answers. For help."I'm wasting time," Joe said after a moment. He slowly - so slowly - rolled onto his side and lifted himself into a sitting position. He looked woozy, but he didn't let that deter him from sliding forward, bracing his feet on the floor, and reaching. He dropped one of the Aspirins, but managed to get the other one into his mouth. He downed half the water before wiping his lips on the back of his sleeve."Where do you think you're going, exactly?" Tom asked, curious as Joe got to his feet and lurched toward the door on unsteady legs"To find Patrick. Fuck, I haven't even told Pete or Andy yet," Joe said, gritting his teeth as he finally made it out of the bedroom. Tom got quietly to his feet and followed as Joe crossed the lounge, heading for the French doors, still open from when Alex aired out the suite. Tom tried not to think about it, focusing instead on Joe as he leaned heavily on the blackout curtains, resting for a moment. When he caught his breath again, he took a step forward and moved onto the balcony.Or he would have, if he'd been able to cross the threshold."Mike was here. Carden," Tom said by way of explanation. He tried not to see the way Mike had looked at him when he'd caught sight of Tom's clothes. The happiness in his eyes had been too much like those first few days together, when Tom had been wide-eyed with wonder and Mike had been more than happy to teach him about this strange new life. He'd showered again by that point, changed his clothes once more so that nothing of Alex remained. Tom didn't think Mike would have been quite so happy if he'd known."You've been given a suggestion," he said unnecessarily. Joe's face told him that he'd already figured it out."Fuck," Joe said, trying once more to cross the threshold."Also, this is the third floor. So...." Tom trailed off. Joe's glare told him that he was being incredibly unhelpful."What the fuck is going on?" he asked."The best way to make sure something doesn't go missing is to put it away," Tom said simply. "The Dandies have brought all their people here until they can figure out who's been killing us off.""Us," Joe said unhappily."Us," Tom said. "Being pissed off doesn't change that." He was proof of it."That doesn't mean I'm going to sit here and take it, though," Joe said."Of course not," Tom smiled. He was surprised to find that it was genuine. He liked Joe. "So, want to tell me exactly what happened? It's not like we have much else to do at the moment. Most of the others left to chase down your lead about Nate. Or Michael." Tom made a face. "You never said which one it was.""I don't know," Joe said before backtracking for a moment. "They left? You just said they've hidden their people out here, how smart is it to leave them?" His voice was a little incredulous, but there was something else there, Tom saw. He was wondering how to use it."A safe house is safe, Joe," Tom said, choosing to ignore whatever scheme Joe might have been cooking up. "It's also secret.""Hmmm," was all that Joe said. Tom helped him to the sofa, then, letting Joe lie down while he moved one of the overstuffed chairs closer. He fiddled with his tie a little. He supposed he'd just have to get used to it.There was a long, uncomfortable silence as Joe lay quietly and Tom stared at him. For a while, Tom thought Joe had fallen asleep again. He thought briefly about concussions and wondered if he should maybe do something, but he couldn't remember if you were supposed to keep a person awake when they were concussed or let them sleep. How did you even know if someone had one? In the end, Tom stayed silent. He would have made a terrible doctor."How fucked is it that what pissed me off the most about getting jumped the other night wasn't the beat-down?" Joe murmured. "They said ... Christ, how did they say it? I was from 'Out-of-town Dandy stock."Tom snorted."That's pretty fucked up," he said."I know," Joe said with a stupid smile. "I know."
They talked for almost half an hour before Tom realized how hungry he was. He took pity on Joe and helped him from the suite, taking the steps slowly as he led him toward the kitchen. It was well after midnight and there were sleepy-looking people all over the place, though few of them had actually gone to bed. Some seemed to have already adjusted to the change, able to stay up all night and sleep throughout the day. Ryan and Spencer, sitting in the second-floor corridor, were two such people. Tom didn't look at them. The last thing he needed was to be once again sized up by Ryan Ross.There were a few Dandies standing in the foyer, and another in the small parlour - those who'd stayed behind to keep an eye on the humans. Tom led Joe past them and pretended not to see the way the hunter took note of them, planning out escape routes and no doubt putting together some sort of scheme in his head.It was none of his business, Tom thought. He just wanted something to eat.They never made it to the kitchen.At first, Tom wasn't sure what was happening. There was a loud crash from outside, the sound of twisted metal and broken glass. Then he saw the orange glow of flames before he heard the crackle or felt the heat. The curtains in the parlours were on fire, Tom realized. The house was burning.It didn't take long for the front door to fly open, for Hoods to start streaming in and humans to start screaming. What few Dandies were in the house ran to the foyer, but Tom quickly lost sight of them in the chaos.They had to get out.Tom looked around frantically, searching for a way out. The kitchen had a back entrance, but even as he and Joe ran toward it, he could hear the door being knocked down, hear the voices of two vampires standing in the middle of the room, laughing about prim and proper Dandies and their kitchen, of all things. Tom grabbed Joe's hand and spun around, making his way down the corridor, heading for a back staircase he'd found on his first day of exploration. It was meant for servants travelling between floors, and though most of the openings had been sealed, it did still reach the attic. Tom dragged Joe behind him, pulling insistently as the other boy stumbled."Going up isn't going to help us!" Joe snapped."We can get to a balcony!" Tom yelled."I can't jump!" Joe yelled back.Tom stopped in his tracks, a sinking feeling in his stomach.How many other humans had been given the same suggestion? There'd been a few surly people in the house, but that could be for any number of reasons.They were going to die."Joe, listen to me," Tom insisted. He grabbed Joe by the head and resisted when the hunter tried to pull away. "Leave the house, Joe!""Are you fucked up? I can't!" Joe yelled."No!" Tom said. "Listen to me, okay? Just listen! I need you to listen!" The problem was, Tom didn't know how his ability worked. He'd only done it a few times, and never on purpose. Hell, half the time he'd been convinced there was no ability at all. How stupid was it to think that he could deliberately use it now?Still, he had to try.He was desperate."Leave the house, Joe," Tom said. "You can leave the house."There it was, a strange feeling in his chest. Tom could feel it, like something in the world was rearranging itself to fit his needs. Joe was blinking at him, a little confused for a moment, before he reached up and rubbed at his eyes."I think...?" he began."We don't have time," Tom said.He turned then and continued up the stairs, pulling Joe along with him. They burst into the attic and found a boy with brown hair, no older than sixteen, trying to hide himself in a corner. Tom made an impatient noise in his throat and grabbed him, too, running with both him and Joe, dodging neat rows of cots, piles of clothing and other personal belongings. They nearly all fell down the stairs to the third floor when the kid lost his footing, but Tom managed to stay on his feet. He jumped down the last four steps, arms pinwheeling wildly to catch his balance.There were screams coming from the main staircase. They were cut off abruptly and it was the lack of sound more than anything else that worried Tom. It wasn't long before one of the Hoods made his way to the third floor, stopping at the top of the stairs, smiling to see the three humans standing together. He came forward, but Tom pushed at Joe and the other kid, yelling at them to go back upstairs. The kid did as he was told but Joe stayed where he was, not willing to leave Tom on his own.Tom didn't know whether he should be grateful or annoyed.There were two of them now, but the vampire was bigger, stronger. It was almost nothing for him to grab Tom around the throat and fist his hand in Joe's shirt. Tom could barely breathe, but he was able to kick out at Joe, catching him in the stomach, digging the toe of one polished shoe down the zipper of his hoodie. Joe was smart, he stripped off the sweater and ran for the stairs. He looked back momentarily, but Tom closed his eyes against his gaze, willing him to just keep running. When Tom opened his eyes again, Joe was gone.He thought he was going to puke when he felt himself being dragged forward, toward the stairs. Had Joe gotten enough of a head start? Did it even matter when there were so many vampires in the house already, when the air was getting hotter and hotter with every second, the flames licking along old plaster and fine fabrics?The Hood dragged Tom down to the second floor, laughing when he caught sight of something at the far end of the hallway. Tom could barely see, the lack of air making black spots dance across his vision, but after blinking a few times, he was able to make out three familiar shapes: Joe, with Ryan and Spencer, ducking into one of the suites. The vampire followed, dragging Tom, limp as a rag doll, along with him."You're going to break your own necks!" the Hood called, throwing open the door and stepping into the suite. The humans were clustered together on the balcony, Spencer's eyes wide with fear, one of Ryan's hands clutched between the both of his. There was a quiet panic on Ryan's face, but he was determined to hide it as well as he could. Joe just looked sorry. Tom hated him a little for that."It'll be easier if you just let us do it for you. Who knows, we might keep you for awhile. I'm sure Greta would like some company."Greta. Greta! She was still alive! Tom held tightly to that piece of information, kept repeating it over and over in his head. Greta, Greta, Greta.Joe's mouth was moving, but he was speaking too softly for Tom to hear. He could read his lips, though. I'm sorry. Tom closed his eyes so he didn't have to watch Joe grab Ryan and Spencer and drag them over the railing. He heard the boys screaming as they fell and that was bad enough."How does it feel to know they won't fight for you?" the vampire asked. "Humans are always doing stupid, pointless things. But not for you."Tom didn't rise to the bait. He kept his eyes closed as he felt fingers tighten in his hair, his head being jerked roughly, painfully, to the side. He held his breath and scrunched his face up as he waited for the sting. He'd never been bitten before.All he could hear were the terrified screams from eighteen months ago. The pleading and the dying. Now it would be him.Before it could happen, Tom found himself flying across the suite, smashing into the sofa and bouncing over the back, hitting the floor with a thud. He could hear snarling and screaming, the sick sounds of fists meeting flesh. He moved slowly, peeking over the back of the sofa, afraid of what he'd see even though he knew who it was.Alex was bleeding badly from a gash across his forehead. He'd been hit with something heavy, probably a piece of wood broken from some piece of furniture. As Tom watched, the Hood twisted his wrist, snapping the bone clean in half. Tom's hands clamped over his ears but he couldn't turn away. Alex had tried to save him, Tom owed him that much.Alex fought like an animal, twisting his broken wrist out of the Hood's grasp, digging his nails into any soft flesh he could find, and kicking out, making his opponent stumble back a few paces. There was so much blood after a few minutes that Tom couldn't tell what belonged to whom. Both vampires were starting to tire due to the blood loss, but Alex was obviously struggling more. Tom took in a shaky breath and forced himself to his feet.He coughed a little as the room began to fill with smoke, but there was a breeze coming in from the open doors. He turned his head and took a deep breath before slowly moving closer to the two vampires. One of the tables had been up-ended, its legs pulled loose. It wasn't easy to break one off, but soon Tom had a makeshift weapon, the solid wood heavy in his hands. Tom rallied the strength he had left and darted forward, bringing the club down against the side of the Hood's head. There was a sickening crunch as the vampire fell to his knees.Alex quickly reached out and killed him.Tom stood there for several moments, rocking back and forth on his feet as he stared down at the dead vampire, his body was turning to ash before Tom's eyes. It was horrifying but he couldn't turn away, not until a coughing fit took hold, making him double over."We need to get out of here," Alex said, voice hoarse. Tom looked at him again and saw the deep purple bruising on his throat. Someone had choked him."You're hurt," Tom blurted."I've had worse," Alex said, though Tom didn't think he could believe that. Still, he let Alex take his wrist and pull him toward the balcony. The suite was so hot, the wallpaper was starting to blister and bubble. They didn't have a lot of time....Alex did his best to pick Tom up, though it was a half-assed sort of carry. Tom didn't complain, not even when he was falling, falling, and then hitting the ground below.
They managed to crawl across the grounds to where a small cluster of Dandies and humans had gathered. It wasn't safe, Tom knew, not when there might still be Hoods in the house, ready to jump from a window at any moment. There was nothing else to do, though, not when they were all injured. He wondered what they were going to do come sunrise. The house would be ash by then. He tried not to let it bother him. There had to be a contingency plan; Dandies loved to plan."Alex?" Tom said, his voice hoarse and so very quiet. "Are you okay?"He was so pale, holding himself very, very still."No, Tommy, I don't think I am," Alex said. He barked out a laugh, but it made him wince."Here," Tom said. "Come here." He wasn't thinking, not clearly, and maybe that had something to do with slamming his head into the ground, but this was Alex. Alex, who hadn't gone with the others to look for Nate and Michael, but who'd come back just in the nick of time, who'd fought his way through the house to save him.Alex's teeth sliced cleanly through the skin of Tom's neck. It hurt, but then Alex was mouthing at his skin, sucking gently while he pulled Tom closer. It was almost nice, then, so easy to close his eyes and be somewhere else, out in the sunlight, walking along the lakeshore, his bare feet sinking into the hot, hot sand....
"I'm an illusionist."
Tom didn't care. He thought that maybe he should, but it was too hard to summon up the emotion.When Alex lifted his head several minutes later, Tom sighed. He pressed his face to Alex's shoulder, moving slowly and with some difficulty to tuck himself against the vampire's side. His eyes were so heavy, he was so tired.He'd nearly fallen asleep when he heard the sounds of approaching cars, the squeal of breaks, the desperate sounds of expensive-soled shoes on pavement and frantic voices calling out for loved ones.In the distance, Tom could hear the scream of a siren, but not even that could convince him to open his eyes.-*-Mike hadn't been overly enthusiastic about leaving the safe house in the care of so few vampires, but he'd kept his protests to himself. He had no intention of staying behind, even if basing a rescue plan on rumours reported by a hunter of all people was a terrible idea. Mike Carden was many things, but he wasn't the kind of bastard who left Dandy fledglings to the Hoods.The building-to-building search hadn't turned up any Dandy people - not even Greta, who Mike had figured right from the beginning was dead. He was a little surprised that they still hadn't found her. The rest of their humans had been dumped in public places - Celeste in a restaurant Dumpster, Erica in the park, Brent under Sampson Bridge, and Caleb in the alley between two clubs. That was probably the cruellest of them all, leaving the kid for Sean to find himself.It made Mike grateful that Tom had come to his senses. He pictured the boy the way he'd seen him earlier in the night, sitting next to the unconscious hunter in Bryar's suite, a wonderful image of fine, Dandy dress and impeccable manners. That was the way things were meant to be, Mike knew. It's the way things would have been, if he hadn't felt the need to show off by keeping a human pet far longer than he should have, or by marking him so often that the small bit of mesmerism he'd done had finally dissolved.He'd been lost in thought when the Butcher reached for the phone vibrating in his breast pocket, going over the things he and Tom were going to do first, the places he wanted to show him in the city, but Mike wasn't so oblivious that he missed the immediate tension in the Butcher's body, or that he couldn't pick out the soft, tinny sound of Siska's panicked words.
"The house is burning!"
Bryar hadn't come with them, neither had Greenwald, but in that moment Mike wished they had. It felt entirely too much like a set-up and Mike was suddenly possessed with the urge to hit something, to break it into smaller and smaller pieces until finally there was nothing left. There would be consequences if that something was an envoy, but Mike was willing to take his chances. Maybe someone would understand. After all, if Schecter could talk his way out of anything, there was no reason why Mike couldn't do the same.He and Jon both pulled out their phones as well, no doubt equally relieved that they hadn't kicked up more of a fuss when they'd agreed to carry such devices. Each began calling other Dandies as they hurried out of the warehouse, to where yet another sleek black sedan was waiting for them. Eagleside was an incredibly long street, and the gang was spread fairly thin as they made their way in small groups through whatever buildings looked promising for hiding stolen people.News spread quickly, and by the time Jon pulled away from the curb, most of the others were already in their cars. Mike twisted around in his seat and watched as, one by one, each car merged onto the road, creating the most ridiculous caravan he'd ever seen."This was a bad idea," the Butcher said, gripping the door handle tightly in his right hand."It had to be done," Mike replied. He was a little surprised to realize he meant it. Judging by Jon's look of surprise in the rear view mirror, Mike wasn't the only one. "Drive faster," he said after a moment. It was a useless instruction, there was no way the car could go any faster than it already was, but the attention was making him uncomfortable. He stared out the window and tried not to let his imagination get the better of him.
Not even his imagination couldn't prepare him for what he saw when Jon threw the car into park and jumped out all in the same instant. The manor was engulfed in flames, the old house having gone up like so much kindling. Mike hoped no one had been left alive inside, because there was no way they'd be rescued. He watched the flames lick higher and higher, reaching for the attic. He stood there, almost in a trance, barely feeling the heat on his face. How long had it taken for the fire to spread? How long had it been burning before Siska had gotten to a phone?Siska.Even thinking the fledgling's name was enough to pull Mike from his trace, to force him to turn to the group of survivors he'd seen from the corner of his eye. He could stand there all night if he wanted to, watching the safe house burn, but no matter how worried he was to do one of Jon's stupid headcounts, it wouldn't change the outcome.The first thought that struck him was how there were so few people who'd made it out. Siska was there, face covered with soot, his head against the Butcher's shoulder as they both watched the house burn. He was the only vampire to get out alive. Mike spared a thought for the three others who'd stayed behind, all of them good men that he'd known for decades.He took his time as he looked the survivors over one by one, purposely drawing it out, wanting to delay the possible moment of bad news as much as possible. Brendon was leaning over Ryan, who was lying on his back in the grass, trying to fend off Brendon's offered wrist. Mike didn't blame him - things had been terrible for the kid the last time Brendon marked him. Given that situation, Mike himself would take the slow healing process, too.Jon was examining Spencer's wrists, both of which were badly swollen and probably broken. The kid didn't look like he was panicking, though it was possible that he was the sort to do it quietly. He looked upset, though, and didn't protest when Jon pulled him closer.The hunter was there, too, which surprised Mike more than he was willing to admit. He'd been the one to mesmer the kid, to prevent him from leaving the house. Mike didn't let himself wonder if that was why so many hadn't gotten out. Siska had mentioned Hoods on the property, in the house. There was no way to prove it either way. But if Joe was there, that meant someone had broken Mike's suggestion. The only other mesmerist in the gang was Brendon, and he'd been heading his own search team.Could a human boy who knew nothing of how mesmerism worked, who shouldn't possibly have been able to use whatever small amount of power had come to him through repeated markings, have managed to do it?Mike turned a little to the left and allowed himself to look at the last two people sprawled in the grass. One was Greenwald - of course, Mike thought snidely. He would have survived because dying in the fire would just be too easy for everyone involved. Not only had he come to rub salt in old wounds, but the arrogance, the audacity of his visit had left Mike almost dumbstruck. At least he looked half-dead, pale and bloody, and far more injured than Mike had seen another Dandy in a very long time. It couldn't have happened to a more deserving person.Mike was maybe willing to admit that part of his anger was due to the fact that Tom was tucked up against his side, holding tightly to Greenwald's ruined clothes. He was either asleep or unconscious. Even from so far away, Mike could see the smudge of blood on his throat. Alex had been sloppy.Hands clenched tightly at his sides, Mike forced himself to take deep breaths. He wanted to go over there, grab his boy and put as much distance between him and Greenwald as possible, but something kept him rooted in place, unable to move. Maybe it was Tom's fingers, fisted in Alex's coat, or the way he'd burrowed into his side.There was a time when Tom would have done that to him.The sound of breaking glass saved Carden from having to decide what to do. He turned back toward the house in time to see two figures jump from the attic window. He recognized Bryar immediately, but he wasn't sure about the kid in his arms. Judging by Quinn's sudden flurry of movement, he knew exactly who it was. The other Dandy darted forward and Mike followed, if only to give himself something to do. It felt good to move, to turn his back on the scene in the grass.Bryar was in bad shape. He'd taken the brunt of the impact and Mike could smell the sharp, unpalatable tang of vampire blood. He took stock of the envoy's injuries, finding several broken bones, a dislocated shoulder, and no doubt a lot of internal bleeding. A human would have died instantly, but Bryar drew in a wet, shuddery breath."Why would you do that?" Mike asked. He knelt down in the dirt next to Bryar and flicked a glance over to Quinn, who'd managed to wrestle the kid out of Bryar's tight grip. The boy was young, maybe sixteen, with a small scar on his jaw. He was unconscious, probably suffering from bad smoke inhalation if his ragged breaths were anything to go by, but he'd survive."I didn't... intend...." Bryar said. He turned his head a little and spat out a mouthful of blood.Mike didn't know what he was supposed to say to that. 'Of course not, this isn't your fault'? That would be a lie; they'd walked into a trap because of Bryar's information. 'You couldn't have known'? He'd gotten his information from a hunter. Even if the kid hadn't been in on it - and one look at him told Mike that he probably hadn't been - it was easy enough to plant false stories around town.But then again, it had been up to them to agree to the plan. Mike couldn't even blame Jon, because they'd all gone willingly enough, eager to find Nate and Michael - and maybe even Greta. After staying so close to home, after so much worry, they'd jumped at the chance."Here!" Quinn all but pushed Mike aside, offering his wrist to Bryar, who took it instantly. Mike watched the two, momentarily flicking his gaze over to the human boy lying not far away on the grass, before making an impatient sound low in his throat and pushing Quinn away."I'm older than you are," he said. "Stronger. Just get out of the way."He let Bryar feed for several long minutes, until it started to hurt far too much, sharp pains in his chest and an ache in his wrist. He drew away then and Bryar let him, his hands falling back to his sides and eyes falling closed. In that moment, Mike couldn't help but think of Greenwald, of his life slipping away and Tom leaning over him, urging and insistent. The give of his skin as sharp teeth tore through, the warmth of his blood. A tiny murmur as Tom tried to get used to such unfamiliar sensations."We need to get out of here."Mike looked up to see Jon standing not far away. There were other humans, too - the fire department, moving closer, ready to battle the flames in case they spread. The house was already gone, but maybe they wouldn't have to deal with a forest fire if the flames spread the half-mile to the park."Where are we going to go?" Quinn asked. "You had a safe place, the rest of us stayed here.""If we have to sleep side by side on my floor, then that's what we'll do," Jon said firmly. "But I don't think that'll be the case. We should be able to take over a floor at the Regency, but we've got to go, Quinn. Spencer and Ryan need to go to the hospital. Hell, so do Tom, Joe, and Anthony." He looked at the unconscious boy next to Quinn in a pointed manner. There's only a few hours until sunrise."Then let's go," Quinn said, getting to his feet and hauling his boy in a fireman's carry. Mike got to his feet, his vision swimming momentarily. He blinked furiously for a second before it refocused again."You alright?" Jon asked."Fine," Mike replied, straightening his tie despite the fact that he was a mess and his clothes were most likely ruined from the soot, dirt, and blood. He looked down at Bryar for a moment. There was no way he could carry him. Luckily two others appeared, each grabbing one of the elder Dandy's arms and pulling it over their shoulders. Bryar stumbled along the uneven ground, determined to keep up with Jon and Carden.Without even needing to be told, Mike took care of the curious firefighters. He made a mental note to get them on the payroll. If he had his way, there would be a lot more burning buildings in the coming days.
Jon got them settled remarkably quickly, calling ahead and speaking directly with the night manager, booking every room on the top floor and making sure that housekeeping or other staff be kept away from those rooms. Those who didn’t have humans went there directly, taking the injured Dandies with them, making sure they got safely to their beds. The rest rode together to the hospital, taking two cars: Jon, Spencer, Joe, Ryan, and Brendon in one, Mike, Tom, Quinn, and the boy whose name turned out to be Anthony in another.They'd lost Joe almost as soon as they got to the hospital. They'd all expected that, though, so no one bothered to look for him. Money changed hands, doctors were pulled off other cases, and examinations quickly preformed. Mike had been right about Jon's boy: both his wrists were broken. Brendon's had a dislocated shoulder and soft-tissue injuries to his back. Tom was lucky, while his throat was black and blue, the only other injuries he'd sustained were a sprained wrist and several broken fingers. Anthony, however, was looking at several days of hospitalization. Mike wondered if he'd still be there when Quinn returned at sunset. If he'd still be alive.It wasn't his responsibility, but Mike took care of hospital security anyway. Money was nothing and Quinn's billfold had disappeared during the commotion.Mike kept quiet about that, paying extra to ensure that no one talked about where the money had come from. He was tired now that the adrenaline was wearing off, and he kept happily to himself as they left the hospital.To some vampires, a place to sleep was a place to sleep, no matter what or where it was. Mike knew some who didn't mind digging in for the day, though most of their kind didn't enjoy being reminded of having to crawl out of their graves. There were also those who could fall asleep in any bed, even in cellars, without a second thought about it. He was nothing like that. Either being raised by Beckett had made him paranoid, or maybe Mike was just smart, but sleeping away from his own home left him feeling uneasy.He wanted to be in his own bed. He hated the idea of using one that so many others, so many humans had used before him. He stared at it disdainfully, scoffing at the candy on the pillow, and then looked at the window. The sun would be up soon, Mike could feel it like a little warning in his head. Get to safety. Stay out of danger. He had maybe an hour; he'd be cutting it fine, but the last thing he wanted to do was stay in the hotel room.Mike knew that losing himself in thought wasn't a particularly smart idea, not when there was so much danger and he wasn't in an area he hunted all that often, but he made sure to keep at least part of his mind on the task at hand. He was just finishing up with one of the city's homeless when he heard it - a short intake of breath, the scuff of rubber-soled shoes on pavement, the whisper of fingers stroking a wooden stake. What made it all the more interesting was that it was undoubtedly a vampire lurking in the shadows.He struck quickly, coming out from a darkened doorway and swinging the stake upward, putting all of his strength, all of his weight, behind the strike. Mike was still tired, sore and a little weak from his recent blood loss, but he was able to sidestep the attack, spinning around and delivering a damaging punch to his assailant's kidney. The other vampire hissed in pain, falling into a scarred brick wall and dropping his makeshift weapon. It wasn't until he'd put some distance between them that Mike was able to see just who it was.A Hood. Fucking Andrew.
"You underestimate us."
The first words the kid had ever said to him. It felt like a lifetime ago.
"You underestimate us."
It kept rattling around inside his head, echoing louder and louder.
"You underestimate us."
Had they been planning it even then, almost two years ago? The thought made Mike furious. His fingers itched for something to grab, to rend into pieces. He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm."Did it really take you this long to set something in motion?" he asked, tilting his head to look at Andrew curiously. The street lamp reflected off the Hood's yellow hair. He looked confused for a moment, before realization dawned on him."Well, you of all people should know about drawing out the moment," Andrew replied. "How long was your boy gone for, anyway? Did you even look for him?"Mike scowled but kept silent. He was used to taunts like these. His situation with Tom was, unfortunately, public knowledge."No, instead you just stayed here. Sitting in that old woman's living room with a teacup and an untouched plate of cookies."That, however, was not. Mike stared at Andrew, knowing that his shock was visible but unable to hide it. The Hood was smiling sweetly, all but rocking back and forth on his feet. In another moment he would be laughing.How had he known? Mike had been so careful. He'd never gone straight there, had always been certain that he wasn't being followed. He'd never even altered his usual routines, had found ways to work within them. In fact, the only time he'd ever seen another vampire had been Jon, and Mike was positive that Jon had been just as shocked as he'd been. Jon had never even brought it up again, never so much as looked at him differently. If he was going to say something, he'd have done it already, and he'd have spoken to Mike directly.Jon Walker was many things - not all of them good - but he had a strange sense of honour about him. Your secrets stayed secret because he'd expect no less from you.There was no one else, though. No one who might possibly use that bit of information against him.No one except....No. Mike pushed the thought out of his mind. It was impossible. The thought itself was too much like treason.Only, it wasn't. Not anymore.He took a half-step toward Andrew, intent on forcing the younger vampire to answer his questions. He had his hands around the Hood's throat, was lifting him up off the ground, when he caught sight of the sky. It was far too light for his liking. Now that he wasn't so preoccupied, Mike could hear his own internal clock screaming about the imminent sunrise.With a growl, he tightened his fingers around the Hood's throat and threw him - hard - into the road. The air was thick with the sickening smell of vampire blood, but Mike didn't stay around long enough for the stench to cling to his clothes. He took off running down the street, eventually making his way up a fire escape so he could cross over the rooftops. He got back to the hotel just as the first rays of the sunrise were starting to streak across the sky, and when he was finally in the safety of the lobby elevator, he had time to realize that his hand was throbbing.He looked down and saw that the skin was angry and red. Burnt.
He woke early the next evening. Though it had happened several times in the last few days, it still left Mike feeling disconnected and off-balance. He dressed quickly in the clothing that was left outside his door, more casual than he would have liked but acceptable under the circumstances. There hadn't been time for custom-tailored garments, even if the tailor across town already had his measurements.Once he was presentable, Mike grabbed the card key on the bedside table and headed to the room next door. Tom was already awake, slouched against the headboard. His eyes were drooping and Mike wasn't sure if he'd just woken up or if he was ready to drop off again."How do you feel?" he asked. Tom turned his head a little to look at him but made a quiet sound of complaint. The bruises on his throat were ghastly."Alright," he said. "How are the others?""Alright," Mike replied. It might have been a bit of a lie, but they'd been fine last he'd heard, Spencer and Ryan in one room, Jon and Brendon in another. There was an awkward silence then and it made Mike want to scowl. There was a time when things weren't so strange between them, when everything came so easily. It was upsetting to realize that was gone."Everything is pretty fucked up," Tom said. It took Mike a moment to realize that the boy wasn't talking about the state of things between them."Yes, they are," he replied. "We should have known better than to take the hunter's word for it without checking it out first. If we'd stopped to think about it, we'd have seen that they were using him. Bryar said he'd rescued him once before. It must have made them angry.""They would have used him anyway," Tom said, his voice hoarse and painful to listen to. "They've been after him for awhile. They don't seem to like out of town Dandies.""What?" Mike asked sharply. Tom looked confused."That's what they called him," he explained. "They said he was from out of town stock."Out of town stock.Gerard Way.Mike knew full well that they'd kept the details of Way's visit under wraps. They'd known that letting that information out would give the others all sorts of ideas. There was no way to hide that the hunters had been marked - that had been the whole point of doing it, really - but no one knew who'd done it, or why.No one outside the gang, at least.Mike wanted to go, to hit the streets and find the hunter, grab him by the throat and throttle him until he started answering the important questions. Had he told anyone the true story of what happened? Had the others? It made no sense, there was no reason why they'd let that information slip out, but humans were stupid, prone to rash, ridiculous decisions that often backfired on them."What's wrong?" Tom croaked."Nothing," Mike said dismissively. "Stay here. Don't go outside." He waited for a smart ass reply and found himself strangely disappointed when none came. He looked at Tom again, took in the exhausted set of his shoulders, the heaviness of his eyes, and left him to rest.
The meeting was held in the room that Jon had shared with Brendon. It was a tight squeeze, fitting everyone in, but those assembled had more important things on their minds and no one complained about something as ridiculous as lack of space. Mike walked into the room and, wanting to be as unobtrusive as possible, took a spot leaning against the wall near the balcony. He did his best to keep his mind on the meeting that would begin at any moment, but nothing he did could chase away Tom's words and the worries that had begun to clamour for his attention.
Out of town stock.
There were ways for them to have found out, Mike told himself firmly. Information travelled and Dandies weren't the only ones who made the occasional exchange between cities. Maybe Gerard hadn't been as discreet as he should have been. Except... Gabriel had raised him, and Gabriel never did anything in half measures. Mike knew that Gerard understood the need for discretion. He wasn't about to risk the dynamics of his own city, not even to spite this one.No, Mike's imagination was running wild and he would do well to control it. One strange comment did not add up to conspiracy.Only, it wasn't just one isolated comment.
Sitting in that old lady's living room....
There was no way he'd been followed, he was certain of that. Mike was smart, he understood how to disappear if he needed to, how to avoid calling attention to himself when he wanted to fly under the radar. He'd known that something would happen if another vampire saw him at that house, that it would be both embarrassing and dangerous. He'd been so careful, confident that no one else would know about his scheme. But still, even though he'd been prepared for almost anything, Mike had figured that one person, at least, would find out. After all, this particular person had no problem joining in on someone else's game if he wasn't running one of his own.The thought made Mike uncomfortable and he pushed it aside, even though he knew that it wasn't the kind of thing he could just ignore for long. He took a deep breath and began to survey the other Dandies, pausing for a moment on their injured. Bryar was propped against the headboard of one bed, still in bad shape and no doubt moving slower than usual, though he looked better than Greenwald. Alex lay on the other bed, pale as the white shirt he was wearing. He clearly hadn't fed enough the night before, but Mike tried to put all thoughts of Tom and Alex out of his mind. Instead, he focused on the fact that neither Bryar nor Alex would be any use in a fight.Greenwald must have sensed someone staring at him because he turned to meet Mike's gaze. The mesmerist quickly turned his attention to the nearest person, almost rolling his eyes when he saw it was Brendon. The younger vampire was jumpy, with an unhappy tilt to his mouth and hands that kept opening and closing at his sides. He was itching to get out on the street and didn't want to waste time. Mike figured he could thank Ryan for that; the kid was apparently great motivation when his life was threatened.He wondered how long Brendon would allow that to continue."Here's what we know," Jon said as he came into the room and shut the door firmly behind himself. He didn't shout to get anyone's attention. In fact, he barely pitched his voice loud enough to be heard over the chaos of nearly forty Dandies in one room, but all fell silent as soon as he opened his mouth, everyone giving him their full attention."Everyone but Nate, Michael, and Greta has been accounted for."Sure, Mike thought uncharitably. If by 'accounted for' you meant 'found dead.' He kept the comment to himself, though one look at Faller told him that the other Dandy was about ready to say it out loud. Jon gave him an unhappy look and Faller's face settled into a scowl, but he kept quiet."Nate could very well still be alive, though I'm not willing to abandon hope for the others.""So says one of Wentz's hunters," Lacey commented."A reliable one," Bryar said, glaring from his position on the bed. He shifted a little, trying to prop himself up a little straighter. If Mike had actually liked him, he might have felt a little impressed - it was almost impossible to look menacing while injured and barely able to sit upright on your own."That brings us to what we still need to know," Jon continued. "Whether Joe is or is not reliable is a very large issue," Jon said to Bryar. "I want my people back and I want to end this. We need to talk to this kid. We need to know how this story was circulating and whether or not Joe was being used to spread false information in the hope that it would get back to us. I'm not prepared to send more of us out than need be, not until we know exactly what is going on and we’re able to plan accordingly." He paused then, taking a moment to look at his people. "I need someone in charge of picking him up."There it was, the perfect opportunity Mike had been searching for. He'd wanted to interrogate the hunter, to force him to answer truthfully, and here Jon was, all but offering it to him. If Mike hadn't known better, if things weren't still so tense between then, he'd have thought Jon was doing it on purpose."I'll do it," Mike replied, just narrowly beating the Butcher. Butcher glared at him but Mike pretended not to notice. Besides, his motives were far more important than the Butcher's quest for revenge against Pete Wentz. If Mike did this properly, he was about to put some very nasty doubts to rest, and that would have to take priority.Jon nodded at him, looking a little surprised that he'd volunteered for the job. For a moment, Mike thought he'd ask questions, but after pursing his lips, he seemingly decided to keep those particular comments to himself."Fine," he said. "Talk to Bryar, he'll point you in the right direction." He turned, then, picking up one of the cheap ballpoint pens from the desk in the corner and moving closer to the wall. Showing no concern about the vandalism he was about to commit, he began drawing a map of their city on the wall, taking care with the boundaries and marking off several areas with slightly lopsided squares."This is Hood territory," Jon said, pointing to one part of the map. "Our second task tonight is to find their safe house. We're going to burn it to the ground, but first we need to make sure our people aren't inside. We have to be subtle about this - they'll be expecting it, and they'll be on the lookout. I've marked off some likely areas." He gestured toward the squares. "Their territory is right in the middle of the city, and they're surrounded by us and the Punks. No one in that situation is stupid enough to house their people near the borders; they have to be toward the centre of their territory. I need one person to check out each location. We're not going in cold; that can only end badly.""Again," Brendon said."Yes," Jon agreed."I remember when a safe house was sacred," Bryar commented. Every vampire in the room turned to look at him, much the way they did every time he mentioned something from the old days. It was slightly irritating to both dislike someone and value their knowledge at the same time."I was standing next to Schecter when that was agreed upon," he continued. "Don't look for ours and we won't look for yours. It was one of our most important laws. How times change.""Yes," Jon said. "They do." There was a moment of silence before Jon continued. "Brendon, Butcher, Sean and Quinn. You'll each take a location on the map. Make sure you're not seen, we want to preserve what little element of surprise we have left."
The discussion with Bryar had been frustratingly unhelpful, with the elder vampire reluctant to provide more than a few vague details about where the hunter might be found. Mike knew that Bryar had most likely found Wentz's hiding place, by dumb luck or through careful searching, and had no intention of revealing it. Only the knowledge that Bryar was acting based on some twisted familial loyalty to the humans kept Mike from pitching a fit. Protecting Wentz was just a nasty side effect of it all, kind of how not kicking up a fuss in the hopes of keeping Tom settled had the unfortunate side effect of letting Greenwald get away with what he’d done.Eventually Mike was able to get enough information from Bryar that he was able to figure out where to start searching. He left soon after, resisting the urge to check in on Tom again. There was no point - no dignity - in hovering. The last thing he wanted to do was turn into Brendon.He forced himself to set a leisurely pace, almost meandering in its speed and the indirect path he chose. He didn't want to seem too purposeful if he was spotted. That particular piece of news would travel way too fast, and his search would be over before it had even begun.Mike wasn't entirely surprised to find himself being followed after a few minutes. What did surprise him, however, was the fact that it was another Dandy who hung back just far enough that Mike couldn't see him on the few occasions that he turned and tried to sneak a surreptitious glance. It didn't take long for him to grow tired of the game, so he paused at the corner and leaned against a telephone pole, waiting to see what his shadow would do. After a moment, the other Dandy came into view, pausing as he stepped out of an alley, offering a sly little smile.It was Greenwald."You look like death," Mike said."Almost dying will do that to you," Alex replied. He came closer then, stopping when he was a few feet away, his hands slipped casually into his pockets. "You saw what I did," he continued after a moment."I'm not the only one," Mike replied tersely. He didn't want to discuss this. If they talked about it, he'd have to do something, and Mike was having trouble coming up with something that didn't involve finishing the job the Hoods had started. He'd be well within his rights to challenge the other Dandy - he was sure of that, envoy or not - but there was something about the way Tom's fingers had been fisted in Alex's shirt that told him very clearly that the new Tom Conrad at the hotel - the old Tom Conrad that had first caught Mike's eye - would disappear very quickly if he did anything of the sort."I'm sure you won't believe me when I say this, but it's the truth. That wasn't done on purpose, Carden.""You didn't just allow yourself to nearly die on the off chance that you'd be able to humiliate me in public by feeding from my human? I never would have figured that out on my own," Mike snapped."That won't get us anywhere," Alex said."Don't," Mike warned, raising a hand to stop him. "Don't stand there and do an impression of Brian Schecter. You are not him.""No, I'm not," Alex agreed. "But since you've brought him up, let me tell you a story. He won't be pleased, but there's no sense in hiding it anymore."Mike watched Alex warily, wondering which secrets the other Dandy was about to give up. He'd be lying if he said the thought of it didn't give him a thrill."Schecter has had Tom in his sights for a very long time," Alex began."So you're admitting that he broke our laws, then," Mike said. It was strange, he didn't feel any triumph in knowing, not like he'd expected to."No," Alex said, shaking his head and smiling a little. "Years, Carden. Schecter's been watching him since he was eight years old.""Bullshit," Mike snapped. "If you're going to waste my time, Greenwald-""How old was Tom when he first picked up a camera?" Alex pressed. Anyone else would think he was changing the subject, but not Mike. No, he knew the answer to that question. He'd learned it over tea and toffee scones in an old woman's shabby living room."He was eight," Mike replied warily."Did you look into the university he'd enrolled in?" Alex asked. "Once you found out, did you do any digging?"Of course he had. He'd spent days pouring over web sites and newsletters, course books and even financial records, desperate to understand."Obviously," he said tersely."The Schecter School of Photography," Alex said, his smile returning. "Founded... when? Fifteen years ago, Carden. Tom was eight."No, there was no way. Mike refused to believe it. Except... Brian Schecter was known for playing the long game. It was part of what terrified everyone around him, the knowledge that your decisions might not even be your own, not if he knew the outcomes and was prepared to steer you into whichever scenario worked best for him."He was never really yours, Carden. Not really.""You say that like it makes a difference. It doesn't," Mike snarled. "Tom agreed to stay with me. He took the mark and made his promise. He doesn't get to take that back.""He does if you let him," Alex said softly.Mike glared, clenching his fists and shoving them angrily into his pockets. The arrogance, the sheer audacity of the statement grated on his nerves, making him angrier every moment he spent staring at the other vampire."You come here and throw everything into chaos," Mike accused. "You take what you want and damn the consequences because it's not you who will be left to clean it up. Well, I can't do that, Greenwald. I can't turn my back and pretend like everything will work out. I don't have a Seer to make sure that the pieces fall where I need them to.""It's never been that easy for us," Alex said after a moment. "You make it sound like we don't have to work for what we want, like we don't make our own mistakes and suffer just as much as you do. He's not always right, you know, and sometimes that makes things harder for everyone.""What?" Mike asked, a little thrown by the last statement."Tom has been my Sire’s pet project for the last fifteen years. Everything hinged on keeping him alive because he was so important." Alex gave a bitter little laugh and shook his head. "But not even he Sees everything, not in crystal clear detail, and sometimes even he gets it wrong.""Cut to the chase," Mike demanded."Schecter kept Tom because he was important," Alex explained. "But it turns out that he was only important because Schecter kept him.""Paradox," Mike whispered. Alex nodded sadly."He was going to save my life," he said. "But my life only needed saving because of him. I don't regret it, though, and I'm sure Schecter won't, either. He's lost so many children over the centuries, you know. You can't blame him for wanting to prevent it from happening again.""How do you know that it happened last night?" Mike asked. Their lives were inherently dangerous; there would undoubtedly be plenty of life-threatening events to come."I'm going to have a scar," Alex said, holding up his left hand. There was a small, raised pink line near his wrist, something Mike wouldn't have noticed unless it had been pointed out. He must have gotten one hell of a splinter.Mike didn't know how he was supposed to feel. He stared at Greenwald in disbelief, wanting to say something but unable to come up with anything suitable. In truth, he didn't care that Schecter had been watching Tom since he'd been a child - the only thing that mattered was who'd gotten to him first, and that had clearly been him. But still, there was something about hearing the extent of the other Dandy’s scheming - scheming that had backfired so spectacularly - that unsettled Mike. He needed to be alone, needed to think about what all of this really meant. Shaking his head, he took a step backward, and another, before turning his back to Greenwald and starting down the sidewalk."Carden. Mike."Mike stopped, but he didn't turn around. "What do you want?" he asked."I want to take him home," Alex said softly. "No matter what Schecter's part was in all of this... I know my own mind. I want to take Tom home.""Everyone's so worried that he'll turn out wrong," Mike replied."Then don't turn him," Alex said. "Problem solved."Mike didn't trust himself to reply to that. He resettled the hat on his head and hurried away.Even though he had work to do, it still felt a little like running away.-*-The kid was easy enough to find and for that Mike was grateful. It was difficult to focus all of his attention on the task at hand when Greenwald's words were echoing in his head, and if any higher thought had been required to track the hunter down, Mike honestly thought he'd have botched the job. He found Joe at a coffee shop of all places, looking miserable, and it was simple enough to slid into his booth and give him a suggestion that he couldn't ignore: Tell me the truth and do it quickly.
"One of the Ieros saw it," Joe answered. "They didn't tell me directly because they've cut all ties with us, just like everyone else has. I was spying." The look on his face was a little horrified when the words slipped out against his will. It lifted Mike's spirits somewhat, or maybe that was the reply itself. The Ieros weren't likely to lie, not if they were warning other hunters to beware of strange events.It would have been the work of a minute to off the kid then and there, to have him walk into oncoming traffic or expose his neck to the next vampire he met, but Mike was spiteful, not stupid. He left the kid in good health and fled the shop, the strong smell of coffee and doughnuts turning his stomach.He did his best to stay alert on the trip back to the hotel, keeping an eye on the shadows and rooftops and setting a brisk pace so he wouldn't be on his own for longer than necessary. He hadn't had the most important job by far - and another time, he might have been angry about that, might not have volunteered at all no matter how much he needed the information - but knowing what he did would at least give them a reason to resume the search for their missing people. He wondered whether Nate and Michael were still alive. Probably not, if Nate had managed to get out once.It wasn't long before the sound of hard-soled shoes began to ring out from somewhere behind him. He forced himself not to react, to continue for several paces before slowing a little and straightening his shoulders. He'd wanted to avoid this, was nowhere near ready to process what he'd learned in the last fifteen hours, but it seemed as though the universe wasn't ready to grant him that reprieve. Taking a deep breath, he turned around.William Beckett looked the same was he always did. Carden didn't know why he'd thought his appearance would have changed. Maybe the image of him being ousted from the safe house had stuck with him more than he'd thought.Beckett smiled as he came closer, adjusting the furs over one shoulder before taking a moment to draw his fingers through the soft hairs. He was dressed in his most formal clothes, the cut modern and very new except for the stole over his shoulder, no doubt meant to draw attention, to underscore the fact that he'd worn the uniform before it was even required.It was foolish to play games like that, Mike knew. There were older vampires than Beckett in the city - Walker, who lived there. Bryar, who was visiting. Schecter, who wasn't there in body but whose presence was felt regardless of his geographic location."Hello, Michael," Beckett said with a smile.Something inside Mike bristled. He'd never been a Michael, and to the Dandies he'd almost always been Carden. Mike when someone supposedly close to him wanted something, but rarely on a regular basis. Mike couldn't help being one of those vampires who was drawn to the artificial respect that came with the use of his surname. He'd never be like Jon, or Brendon, or even fucking Gerard - eager to lure people in with faux intimacy. He didn't have it in him to pretend."When did you get back?" Mike asked, keeping his voice neutral."You don't think I actually left," Beckett said confidently as he closed the distance between them. "You're smarter than that. I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head; you're putting it all together."Mike kept quiet, unsure of what to do, how to proceed. This conversation was a minefield and would need to be negotiated with care. That had never been his strong suit."Come on, Mike," Beckett urged. "Let me hear those thoughts. Show me that you haven't gone soft in the time I've been away."Mike wanted to point out that Beckett hadn't been gone more than a week, but he kept the observation to himself. Instead, he took an unnecessary breath and said, "You told the Hoods who to target."Saying it out loud hurt a hell of a lot more than just letting the thought rattle around inside his head."Think of it as population control," Beckett replied. "We had too many humans running around. None of them were suitable. I remember a time when-""Michael and Nate," Carden interrupted, speaking through gritted teeth. They might have been somewhat irritating at times, they might have reminded Mike far too much of himself as a young fledgling - scared, confused, a little out of control - but they were still Dandies, still theirs."They sided with Jon Walker," Becket said easily, waving the concern away."Are they still alive?""For now. The Hoods have no class," Beckett sighed, extremely put upon. "They want to see long it'll take before they turn on that silly girl. No less than they deserve, I suppose.""And the rest of us? You gave up the manor," Mike exclaimed. "Our safe house.""It was time to move on from that," Beckett insisted. "We're at the other end of the city, near the border of our property. That's hardly a good idea.""Then put up a for sale sign and find a real estate broker," Mike all but yelled. "You.... You broke so fucking many of our laws, and for what? So you wouldn't have to pack?""You're overreacting," Beckett scoffed. He moved around the younger vampire and took a few steps down the street, putting distance between them. Mike watched him with narrowed eyes, his fists clenching at his sides."Tom was in that house when they burned it," he snapped. "He'd be dead right now if not for fucking Greenwald." And that was it, really. Fucking Greenwald had been the one to save him."Well, that's unfortunate for sure," Beckett replied, feigning an apologetic look. "Because that boy always has brought out the best qualities in you. Oh, wait...." He trailed off, feigning surprise, one gloved hand pressed against his lips. "No, this is the boy who inspires you to have tea parties with elderly women. Honestly, Mike, what were you even thinking?"Mike hadn't been thinking, not in the beginning. He'd just wanted answers at first and he'd gone to the only person who'd be able to give them. He'd meant to kill her after that initial meeting, but he'd quickly learned that Evelyn Conrad was more useful to him alive. She had so much information; she'd painted such vivid pictures of Tom as a child - as an adult - that he'd found himself listening with rapt attention. She also had an open connection to her grandson: weekly phone calls, letters home. It had seemed like the perfect opportunity, really. He'd never been one for elaborate schemes but it all came together on its own, leaving him feeling like it was the only possible option.She was going to fix her mistake, she was going to bring Tom home. All on her own, she was going to ask and he was going to say yes, and there would be nothing suspicious in her behaviour because Mike wasn't going to do a thing to interfere. It might have taken some time, but he was prepared to wait because the only way to guarantee that Tom wouldn't fight him was to get in Evelyn Conrad's good graces, have her guilt trip her grandson if need be. She wouldn't be around forever, and Tom would need someone after she died. Mike would fill the void, much the way he'd filled that other void when they'd met."I've always taken care of you," Beckett said, his tone clearly stating that Mike should be grateful for that. "Every time you've done something rash, I was there to set you straight. Whenever your bad temper threatened to ruin house harmony, I smoothed it over. Nicholas gave you to me so that someone would be responsible for you. That didn't stop after you came into your own, and it didn't stop after Jon Walker stole my place."Mike froze for a moment, afraid to turn back toward the other Dandy.It didn't stop?It didn't stop.It....Slowly, so very slowly, Mike forced himself to turn away from the darkened doorway he'd been staring at, to look Beckett in the eye."What?" he asked, his voice far too cautious for his liking."It was a very bad plan," Beckett said. "My way was so much faster, more efficient."Mike stood there dumbly, shaking his head in disbelief. He'd thought it an accident, or some random act of violence. He was an idiot."You would have had to kill her eventually," Beckett reasoned, taking a step toward the other Dandy. "She probably would have died soon on her own, anyway. Humans are pathetically short-lived."An image came to mind then, the look of hatred in Tom's eyes when Mike had lashed out, taken credit for a murder he hadn't committed. That look shifted into something else, into the defiant mask the boy had worn for those few days in the Dandy house, meant to hide the deep sadness he felt. It shifted again, this time turning into the look of resignation as Tom finally shaved, cut his hair, lost the piercings. It was wrong, though.Tom was always meant to want it."Why did you follow me tonight?" Mike asked, his voice flat as he worked to keep his emotions under control."You've always been loyal to me," Beckett said. "You and Faller. Quinn. Maybe Sean. I need you all to stand with me. The others will fall in line, I think. We'll have trouble with the Butcher, of course, but once that's been settled, the rest will come quietly.""Have you spoken to the others?" Mike asked, not quite able to believe what he was hearing. He studied Beckett's face carefully, but he was far too good at schooling his expression into a mask of indifference. Mike wished then that he'd tried harder to learn that from him."Not yet," Beckett said. "I want you at my right hand again, Carden. That's what I raised you for."Mike wondered bitterly if that was why Beckett had all but sabotaged things with Tom. Jon would never allow Mike to turn him, not if there was even the slightest possibility of him turning out wrong. Beckett, on the other hand, had much experience dealing with - or turning a blind eye to - such things.Was Mike about to choose more than just allegiance to his gang? Was there more at stake than that?"You're working with the Hoods," Mike said. "How is that even supposed to play out?""Boundary lines will have to be redrawn," Beckett replied, dismissively, as though they gave up territory every day. "But it'll be worth it in the end.""You're going to let the gang fall into chaos," Mike said after a moment of realization. "Let them turn on Jon.""They'll be so grateful to see me," Beckett agreed. "William Beckett - the one who put an end to the uprising. But even the hero needs someone, you know. He never does it completely on his own.""I can't," Mike said, taking a step backward. It was a small distance, but it was still significant. A dark look came over Beckett's face, leaving the younger Dandy racing to figure out what to say to get out of the situation in more or less one piece. His mesmerism might deter Beckett for a few moments, but the other vampire was strong enough that he'd shrug it off before long."You raised me," he continued. "I will always be grateful that Nicholas allowed that to happen. It taught me the importance of family, even adopted family. In the end, that's all we have, isn't it?""You fought against it long enough. I'm surprised to hear you say that," Beckett observed. Mike shrugged it off."I won't tell Jon that I saw you here tonight," he said. "But I can't help you.""What makes you think I won't just kill you right here, right now?" Beckett asked. He was genuinely curious, Mike could tell that much."Because then I'll never change my mind," he replied. "And we're notorious for that. I guess we can't help it; our lives are long and we have too much time to think.""True enough, I suppose," Beckett mused. "Your word that you won't interfere, Mike.""I'll stay out of your way," Mike said. "And Jon Walker won't hear one word from me. I owe you that much.""Yes," Beckett agreed. "You do."That was obviously the end of the conversation, Mike could tell by the way Beckett just stood there, looking at him expectantly.It wasn't easy to turn away, to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving at a steady pace, expecting to be attacked at any moment, but he did it. With every step, Mike became more and more sure of what he had to do.
I won't tell Jon that I saw you here tonight.
It hadn't been a lie, not really. Beckett usually enjoyed twisting semantics to suit his own purposes, but Mike didn't think he'd appreciate it being turned back on him.
Not only was he the last one back to the hotel, but he also walked in on the assembly of a make-shift search party. At one time, Mike would have laughed at them for that, but as it was he only shook his head a little and made a point of not checking to see who'd volunteered."Butcher found it," Jon said once everything had calmed somewhat. Mike looked to the crudely drawn mat and saw a circle around one small, lopsided square."The hunter's information came from the Ieros," he said. "He didn't lead us into anything.""We could have saved a lot of time if you'd just listened to me," Bryar remarked. He'd moved from the bed to a chair, looking somewhat better. Mike supposed they'd found something to eat while he'd been gone.Everyone was so tightly wound, so ready to get back out there that Mike knew he had to work fast. They'd found the safe house easier than he'd thought they would, and if they decided to go after it right away, everything would come unravelled far too soon. He tried to picture what would happen if they stormed the Hood house and found Beckett there. Chaos, surely. War, probably. The city would be destroyed.There was only one way to head that off, to set things to rights."Nate and Michael are alive," Mike said. He felt every eye in the room turn toward him then and he had a moment to wonder if he'd just done something incredibly stupid before he had to push it away and sell it for all it was worth. "A small group of hunters were talking about it; they're going to do take their chances.""Where?" Jon demanded.Mike hesitated. "They didn't give an address," he began. "But it has to be close to where we were searching before. It's hard enough to herd one fledgling anywhere, let alone two. I can't see them having relocated that far. Or anywhere, really. Not if they were confident in whatever it is they were doing. We need to go back to Eagleside."Jon was watching him curiously, suspiciously, debating whether or not to share his thoughts. It took a moment for him to make up his mind."You want to look for Nate and Michael instead of going to the Hood safe house," he said."We need to get our people back," Mike insisted. "Before they're killed, too.""No, there's more to it," Jon said, his voice hard, unyielding. "I won't make an arbitrary decision. I want to know what you're up to.""I'm not up to anything," Mike snapped. "I'm not trying to hide anything, either. I just need time!""Time," Jon said warily."I'm not asking you to abandon the plan completely, I'm just asking you to wait." He did his best to ignore the rest of the vampires in the room, knowing that they wouldn't play a part in Jon's decision. He had to seem sincere in this, had to find a way to appeal to Walker's trust, even though he'd never really won that in the first place. He'd never wanted it before, but.... he did now.Suddenly Jon Walker made a lot more sense."We'll never get along, you and I," Mike said after a moment. "Not really. There's too much history, I think, for that to happen. I'm fine with that. I don't need to be your friend, but that doesn't mean we can't work together in this, or in other things. I'm asking, Jon. I need time.""How much?" Jon still wasn't happy, but he was willing to meet Mike halfway. The rush of relief he felt at that was strong."A day," he said. "Maybe more, but a day for sure.""You have until dawn tomorrow," Jon said after a moment. "That's it."Mike could live with that."Go find Nate and Michael," he said. "Be careful.""And you?" Jon asked."I have to make a phone call," Mike replied. He tried not to think about what he was about to do.-*-Tom hadn't meant to fall asleep, not when there was obviously something going on. He'd tried to leave his room around nine and again at midnight, only to be turned away at the door by a surly looking Dandy who was, no doubt, upset at having been made to stay behind. Now and then he could hear shouts down the hall as Spencer and Ryan tried to leave their room, too, only to be kept inside. Tom could hear a low murmur of voices coming from the room next door, a small congregation of Dandies who weren't playing a part in whatever was happening, but he wasn't able to make out individual voices or figure out what they were saying. He wondered if Mike was with them, and whether or not Alex had lived up to his part of their bargain.As much as he'd wanted to stay awake, to demand answers whenever Mike came back, Tom did manage to fall asleep. The last thing he remembered was the toaster infomercial and wondering why anyone would possibly need to toast an entire loaf of bread at once, and then suddenly he was overheated and sweating uncomfortably. Eyes still closed, he tried to move one of his arms, intent on throwing off the blanket. His arm, however, was stuck and no amount of jerking back and forth would dislodge it. His eyes fluttered open, his mind still sleepy and confused, and he blinked at the mess of blond curls in his face.Blond curls that were attached to Greta's head.Greta!"Where have you been?" Tom yelled, sitting up and knocking the girl's head off his shoulder. She groaned softly, scrunching up her face as she clenched her eyes closed. She looked like shit, all pale skin with a few bruises peeking out from under her hair. Tom shook her a little, needing her to be awake, to explain what the hell had happened, how she'd gotten away.Greta's hands came up, grabbing Tom around one wrist and forcing his hand away from her shoulder. Her nails were ragged - broken or chewed to the quick. There was blood in the beds of her nails and three of her fingers had been quickly splinted."Sleep," she croaked, letting go of him. She curled up again, trying to shove her hands under her pillow, momentarily forgetting about the broken bones. She hissed and pulled her hands away, cradling them against her chest.Tom moved slowly, not wanting to jostle the bed too much, and stretched out beside her, his head practically on her pillow."Just tell me what happened," Tom asked. "I was worried. No one else came back.""They found us, Jon and the others," Greta said. Her voice was rough, it must have hurt to talk. "Nate and Michael...."Tom felt bad for doing it, but he urged her to continue anyway."They were starving. It wasn't Michael's fault."Wasn't...?Oh."Did he...?" Tom asked."Nate stopped him, but he was so hungry." The sleepy look was gone from Greta's eyes, leaving them flat, haunted. "They both were," she added, her voice barely above a whisper. "But that was the point of it all.""Shit," Tom cursed, reaching out and tugging his friend closer. She burrowed into his side, holding onto his shirt with her good fingers, and passed out almost immediately. Tom lay there for the better part of an hour, listening to her breaths and the occasional small noise of distress as she dreamed of terrible things.It was the sound of a card key in the door that brought his head up again. One look at the bedside clock told Tom that it was nearing four. The sun would be up in a little more than an hour and a half."You're awake," Mike said as he came into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. He stayed near the door for a moment, his face unreadable in the darkness. "Has she woken up, yet?"The question threw Tom for a loop, but he answered anyway. "A little. When did she get here?""I brought her in a little over two hours ago," Mike replied."Why?" Tom couldn't stop himself from blurting out the question."I need you to come with me," Mike said instead of answering. He continued to watch Tom with that same unreadable expression.Tom didn't want to get out of bed. Even if Greta wasn't there, sleeping fitfully, he'd still feel a little like pulling the blankets up over his head.
I need you to come with me.
Was it going to happen now? Tom remembered the decision he'd made and tried to take a deep breath. There wasn't anything else to do, then. He carefully inched out from under Greta's sleeping form and got to his feet. He'd be brave, no matter what.Mike handed him the jacket that Tom had thrown over the chair near the door and then turned to lead the way out into the hall.
Of all the places that Tom thought they might go, the cemetery wasn't one of them. He slowly got out of the car and looked warily at the imposing wrought iron gates, not wanting to get any closer but knowing he would have to. What was Mike planning to do? Tom knew that a lot of vampires had to crawl out of their graves, the ones who weren't brought back to the safe house before they woke for the first time. Someone had told him it built character or some bullshit like that. Would Mike make him go through that?"Come on," the vampire said, steering Tom forward with a hand pressed warmly to the small of Tom's back. He shivered a little, cool in the early-morning air.Mike led him down a winding path, past old headstones with family names that Tom kind of recognized. There was a Walker by the oak tree, and a van Vleet by the benches. Half hidden by a bush had been a Carden. Tom bit his lip and carefully didn't look at the first name chiseled on the stone, focusing instead on keeping his footing sure in the gloom. They were heading toward the newer part of the cemetery, the markers newer, less weathered. It made Tom shudder. He carefully averted his eyes when he noticed Urie carved on a black granite slab with a weeping angel in one corner.He was half expecting to stop in front of a crudely-dug hole in the ground, but when Mike tugged him over to a fresh grave, newly-filled in, Tom was confused. He stared at the dark mound of earth, trying to make sense of it. It wasn't until he moved a little closer and saw the small plaque stuck into the ground - a placeholder for a tombstone - that he understood.
Evelyn Conrad.
Tom's knees went out and he hit the ground hard. He barely felt the pain, focused so intently on the little white letters before they began to swim in front of him. He furiously blinked away the tears, but they just kept coming. She was here, under the ground, and she wasn't ever coming back. It was really over, then. The last thing he'd had to do as a human and Mike had even taken that away from him.There was a strange feeling in his chest, something Tom couldn't give a name to. Heartbreak, maybe. Despair. Tom didn't care, just focused on that and wondered if anyone had ever felt exactly what he was in that moment.The first sob was hard to get out, but once that one was free, the rest came quickly, loudly. Tom cried and didn't let himself feel ashamed. He cried for what he'd lost, for what he'd likely never have."Everything's gone wrong," Mike said softly. Tom hiccupped a little and dug his fingers into the loose dirt, trying to regain his composure. "It should never have been this way.""You did this," Tom whispered, voice raw. He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of one wrist, wiping damp earth across his forehead with his fingers."I lost my brother when I was a lot younger than you are now," Mike said. It didn't make any sense, but Tom didn't care. He didn't want to listen or even understand. If Mike wanted to talk circles around him, let him. Tom stared down at the dirt again and squeezed some in his fist."He was sick most of his life. I don't remember him actually ever being well." Mike's voice had a far away quality to it, like he was lost in thought, replaying old memories that were better left forgotten. Tom hated himself for noticing."We never had much. Food was scarce, heat was a dream most winters. I wasn't really surprised when he died, not really. I didn't know anything could hurt that much. And the planning. Christ. That was the worst. I was just a kid, left to deal with a grieving mother and sister, and putting my brother in the ground. We couldn't even afford the spade to dig the goddamn hole ourselves."There was a long silence before he continued. "I don't think I would have actually done that to you, Tom.""You did do it," Tom hissed. He wanted to reach forward, to grab the little plaque and throw it at him. He stayed where he was."No," Mike said firmly, kneeling down right beside Tom, unmindful of the dirt on his clothes. He turned Tom to face him and there was such a seriousness in his face that Tom was a little confused. "Did I have a plan for her? Yes." Tom flinched, pulling his face away from Mike's fingers. The vampire let him go but didn't move away. "We scheme, it's what we do, but I didn't kill her.""You said, Mike. You said-""We also lie, Tom. We do it very well."There was another silence before Tom barked out a bitter little laugh. "I told Ryan he was full of shit," he said. "He called last night, said he'd had a dream and had to tell me. I didn't believe him. He's just so stupid all the time.""Well, he does like Brendon," Mike said softly. Tom gave him a dirty look. Now was not the time to make stupid jokes."I'm not responsible for Ryan Ross," Mike said. "I don't know why he didn't fight as hard as some of the others, but not all humans do, Tom. Some of them are smart enough to understand that family is what you make it. What you let it be. There's an attractive quality in that, don't even try to deny it."Tom couldn't. It was, after all, what had attracted him, too."Who did it, then?" Tom asked. "If it wasn't you, then who?""That will be dealt with tomorrow," Mike said, refusing to answer. Tom wasn't all that surprised. Even in this, Mike would keep his secrets until the end.Tom stayed on his knees, in the dirt, until the threat of sunrise drove him to his feet. He stumbled down the pathway, toward the car that waited just outside the gates. The drive back to the hotel was spent in silence, with Tom staring out the window, lost in thought.-*-Every day, Mike was sleeping in later and later, that first burst of early-rising energy dissipating over time. It was almost fully dark before he woke, but he could feel the pull in his skin that told him the sun was still up. It took him a moment to remember why he'd been so anxious the night before, but when he did he took off like a shot, all but running for the small store of clothing that had been delivered to the hotel. He chose his clothes with care, trying to put together an outfit that would be impeccable, incredibly formal, but there was only so much he could do with what he'd been given. He would just have to hope that it worked out in the end.He spent longer in the shower than usual, hoping that the hot water would loosen the tension in his shoulders, or at least help to calm his nerves. Everything had seemed so clear thirty-seven hours ago, he'd known exactly what he'd had to do, the only thing to do, and he'd done it without hesitation. He'd even gotten Jon Walker to give him enough time for everything to fall into place, which in itself seemed like a minor miracle. Mike still couldn't figure that out, to be honest. Jon's position was being threatened (what kind of leader let the safe house be destroyed?), but he'd given Mike what he'd asked for. Oh, he'd taken the time to think it over, he'd given Mike the most suspicious of looks, but in the end, he'd agreed to wait.All that waiting was about to come to an end. Mike turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, staring at himself in the mirror.Sixty years. Had it really been that long? He'd never stopped to think about it but... yes, it had been that long. He stared at his reflection, his brows drawn together. Were the last six decades' worth of changes written on his face? Could someone look at him and just know? Mike didn't think so, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd been wrong.Turning away from the mirror, he focused on getting ready, taking care with each garment. Once his hair was dry, he settled a dark hat with a red band over his head and hurried out of his room.Though it was just after sunset, Jon and Brendon's room - their unofficial headquarters for the duration of their stay at the hotel - was already crowded. Jon looked up as Mike came inside, sliding past Siska who'd opened the door. The kid was looking better with each passing day, and Mike was surprised to realize he was happy for that where before he might have been slightly apathetic."Well, it's looking like your time is up," Jon said. Mike stared at the clock for a moment before his eyes flicked to the open window. This wasn't how it was supposed to work. Everything was falling apart before it could even be set to rights."I just need a little more time," he said. "This is important.""Why don't you actually tell me what you're up to?" Jon asked. "I don't like being in the dark, Carden.""I can't, not yet," Mike insisted. "Just give me time!""No," Jon said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but we've drawn this out long enough as it is. We need to move, and I've already damaged my reputation enough by waiting as long as I have."Mike was trying to figure out what to say to make Jon change his mind - should he just come out and tell him? Like this, around so many people, like they were discussing the weather? - when the phone rang. The shrill noise cut through all the noise in the room, the other vampires falling silent and turning to stare.Jon moved slowly toward it, reaching out and picking up the receiver."Mr. Walker?" It was the night manager of the hotel, speaking loudly enough that Mike could hear the tinny sound of his voice through the phone."Yes?" Jon replied."There are people here to see you," he said. "A young woman asks that everyone meet her in the ballroom.""The ballroom?" Jon asked, turning to look at Mike, who wasn't able to hide the relief on his face."Yes. She was most adamant, sir, that everyone be there.""Thank you," Jon said before hanging up. There was a moment of silence. "Brendon?""Yes?" Brendon appeared at Jon's side."Get Ryan and Spencer. The rest of you, wait by the stairs. We're all expected in the ballroom, but first Carden and I have something to discuss." Jon Walker didn't look impressed at all, but his anger was nothing Mike hadn't seen before. He waited as the others hurried from the room, letting the door swing closed behind them. The latch had barely caught before Jon was in his face, angry eyes flashing and lips drawn back to expose his fangs."Tell me you didn't do this, Carden," he demanded. "Tell me you did not just sell me out to them." His hands were balled at his sides, but Mike didn't doubt that they would be around his throat soon enough, unless he said the right thing to calm him down."It isn't that," he said. "Did I call her? Yes, I did, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I know that we all hate having the Old Ones called home, but this was the only way.""The only way," Jon scoffed, taking a step away to begin pacing."It's a family matter," Mike said. The words stopped him in his tracks."Excuse me?" he asked."She's waiting," Mike said instead. "I seem to remember her not liking that."Jon laughed, the sound strained and unpleasant. "No," he said. "She doesn't."
They took the stairs down to the lobby, wanting everyone to arrive together. Everyone seemed to understand the seriousness of what was about to happen, even if they weren't quite sure what to expect. Not even the humans complained about all the stairs, though Mike would have pegged Ryan for a few snarky comments whispered in Brendon's ear. They made short work of their descent, moving quickly down the flights, and soon found themselves at the far end of the lobby. The ballroom was just down the corridor.Knowing what was waiting there sent a shiver down Mike's spine, even though he was relatively sure that he had nothing to worry about.Sixty years.God, he'd been such a little shit as a fledgling. Would she remember?One look at the smirk on her face told Mike that yes, she did.Lyndsey stood in the middle of the ballroom, surrounded by her entourage. Mike paid them no mind, unable to take his eyes from the dark-haired woman who'd managed to command everyone's attention - humans included - by doing nothing more than being in the room. She laughed a little, the sound ringing out in the otherwise empty room, and all of a sudden Mike was a young fledgling again, misbehaving and being brought to heel by her hand."Michael Carden," she said with a smile. She came closer, then, her black heels beating out a staccato against the polished floors. Her clothes were meant to soften her look, to make her seem beautiful and feminine, sweet and harmless. A stupid man might have believed that, but Mike could see the predatory way that she moved, that liquid, lazy look in her eyes that could disappear in a heartbeat, replaced by an anger so deep that no one would get out alive. Still, he couldn't help but stare as the skirt of the vintage black dress pulled snugly across her waist, or at the lace flounce at her right hip.There weren't a lot of Dandy women - even less who were old enough to have yet achieved any sort of rank - but the few they had were striking. Mike was ridiculously pleased that she'd come when he'd called. He wasn't even annoyed that she'd called him Michael."You've grown up well," Lyndsey said as she closed the distance between them, taking a moment to look him over. She liked what she saw and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her bright red lipstick didn't even smudge."I was worried you wouldn't come," Mike admitted. Lyndsey took off his hat and ruffled his hair."Of course I did," she said. "You called.""Who is she?" The words were said softly, a little tentatively, as though Tom knew he shouldn't interrupt but couldn't help himself."She's the head of our family," Mike replied, his voice carrying across the room. There was movement to his left, Mike could just make out one of the humans - Spencer - moving closer to Jon at the thought of someone of considerable rank having been called to town. He was worried, that was coming across loud and clear. He was smart, Mike realized, but he'd gotten it all wrong.Lyndsey laughed. "Head of your family. There was a time when you didn't think so," she said."As you've said, I've grown up well."It was true. How long had he fought against that feeling of being an outsider? An orphan without a bloodline, a sire who'd never wanted him in the first place, whose madness had led him to turn a boy in an alley and leave him behind? And then he had Nicholas, and Beckett, but it had been so different than all the others, so different from his mortal life, that he'd dug his heels in, risked being a bit of a terror when he could get away with it."I'm sorry that someone wasn't here to meet you," Jon said, coming forward to stand next to Mike. "I didn't actually know that you were coming.""Keeping secrets?" Lyndsey asked, arching one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Well, don't hold back. Tell them why I'm here."It was a bit of a punishment, Mike knew. She'd make him tell them himself when she knew full well that he had no idea how to do that, how to keep himself from being implicated in it. He'd kept quiet for almost two full days, after all. Anything could have happened in that time."William Beckett is still in the city," he said."And?" Lyndsey prompted a little impatiently."And he's been telling secrets," he finished.The uproar was instantaneous, yelling and arguing echoing across the ballroom. Mike thought he could hear accusations being thrown his way, but he tried not to pay attention to those."When did you see him?" Jon asked tersely. "That night you went looking for Joe, or before?""That night," Mike said. "He asked me to help him. I said no.""You said no," Brendon asked, a look of disbelief on his face."He gave them the safe house, you moron," Mike snapped. "Contrary to popular belief, I do have standards.""He was... what? Trying to discredit me by angering everyone in this room?" Jon asked. "Kill a few humans, maybe a few Dandies for good measure, and sit back while we tore ourselves apart?""Then he'd swoop in and fix it all," Brendon snorted. "Because that would erase everything else he'd ever done.""A desperate plan for a desperate time," Lyndsey said. "Rest assured that I'll be the one to set this to rights.""Will you-" the Butcher began."I have no intention of killing him," Lyndsey replied, momentarily checking out her nails. "But I will march him back home with me like an errant little boy." Her voice changed then, going darker with a barely controlled rage. "He'll learn his lesson at my feet."No one had anything to say to that.After awhile, Bryar stepped forward and asked, "How are we going to get to that point?"Lyndsey smiled at him, a bright, happy expression. "You and I, Robert Bryar, are going to walk right in there and get him.""Will it be as easy as that?" he asked, a little skeptically.Yes, Mike wanted to say, fighting the shiver that raced down his spine at a memory he'd tried hard to forget.Lyndsey just reached into her purse and pulled out a small silver lighter. She threw it to Bryar and smiled again."Absolutely," she replied.
Lyndsey made the preparations look easy. She studied each vampire in turn, asking about their talent and their level of control. She made small, inquisitive sounds as she made her decisions, separating the other vampires into two groups, one significantly smaller than the other. Mike was irritated to see that Greenwald was not only still around, but was also in that smaller group.After awhile, Lyndsey turned her attention to the corner where three of the Dandies' four remaining humans were sitting together, watching the proceedings with wide eyes. Even Tom, who'd met many visiting Dandies, couldn't stop himself from looking awestruck. It was hardly his fault, Lyndsey was a compelling woman, but it made Mike chuckle regardless."That one's yours, isn't he?" Lyndsey asked, coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder."It's complicated," he replied, surprised at the truthful answer."Then un-complicate it," Lyndsey suggested.Mike wished it was that easy."We're ready to go," she said then, running a hand down his arm. "The boys are staying here. One of my people will escort the upstairs. We wouldn't want the little lambs to get lost, would we?"Wouldn't want them to run, more likely. Mike didn't point out that he was confident that they weren't going anywhere. Anthony was still in incredibly bad shape, still in the hospital, Tom had finally come to his senses and Ryan and Spencer were... Ryan and Spencer. Mike couldn't figure them out, but he knew they weren't about to make a break for it.Everyone followed closely behind as Lyndsey led the way through the lobby, so many attractive people causing something of a scene. It was difficult to figure out the travel arrangements, but eventually enough cars were found and their caravan pulled away from the hotel, following the Butcher's directions to the safe house he'd found a few nights earlier. The trip in Mike's car was strained and quiet. He felt uncomfortable wedged in between Lyndsey and part of her entourage, someone that Mike was pretty sure she'd called Davy, but whom he figured he should probably refer to as David if he wanted keep on the other vampire's good side. He didn’t think Lyndsey liked him enough to let even an unintentional insult slide.The Hoods’ safe house was a warehouse in the meat-packing district, right in the middle of their territory. All of the second-floor windows were blacked out, which was sloppy, telling. It was almost as though they hadn't spared a thought for discretion. Although, Mike supposed, they'd probably never thought they'd find themselves in such a situation, needing to actually hide their sanctuary from others of their kind. Like Bryar said, there'd been a time when the thought of looking for another gang's safe house wouldn't have even crossed their minds.As they made their way down the street, there were far too many Hoods milling about for them to have been on the wrong track. Mike looked at them all in turn, not bothering to hide his face as their car drove past, looking for an appropriate place to park. There was no way to hide their arrival, not when there were so many of them spread out into so many cars, but Mike supposed that was the whole point of it. Show them that the Dandies weren't going to play games anymore. It was time to end it.Cars stopped one by one and then car doors opened simultaneously. Everyone knew what they were meant to do, had it drilled into them before they'd even left the hotel. The smaller group followed Lyndsey to the warehouse while the others took up positions around it, watching exits and windows to make sure that no one left before they were allowed to. Mike saw Bryar come up on Lyndsey's other side, and he hung back a little, allowing Jon to then take his place. It burned a little to walk behind them, but he knew his place. There was no way the new Dandy leader could possibly not be standing front and centre - or as centred as Lyndsey was prepared to let him get.She didn't even have to say a word as they approached the warehouse. Bryar turned left and Mike to the right, making short work of the guards who'd tried so hard to appear casual, lounging against brick walls or lamp posts. Mike sent a simple suggestion - Sit here, stay quiet, don't move - but Bryar was having fun with not being reigned in. It wasn't long before screams sounded in the darkened streets, vampires scratching at their own faces, writhing on the sidewalk. One by one, the screams were cut off abruptly as others reached out and finished them off, not even pausing on their way to their own stations.It was far too easy to walk into the warehouse, almost as though the Hoods were letting them in. There was no way they hadn't heard the screaming from outside, and yet they hadn't sent any reinforcements, any replacements for the fallen. Mike had a marginally bad feeling about it, but he kept his eyes opened, trying to put the worry behind him. Being vigilant meant not letting his mind get the better of him."Come out, come out, wherever you are," Lyndsey called, her voice echoing around the almost empty first floor.The eight Dandies she'd brought with her fanned out a little. Brendon kept a sharp eye out for any humans, Sean took stock of which heavy items could be used as weapons, and Butcher and Greenwald were ready to spin illusions as soon as the need arose. Jon and Bryar stood quietly on either side of Lyndsey, taking their cues from her. As for Davy and the other member of Lyndsey's original entourage who'd made it inside - Alicia, another striking woman with her dark hair piled up on her head - Mike wasn't exactly sure what they were doing, but if she'd chosen them, he knew they had to have skills."It's rude to keep your guests waiting," Lyndsay continued."I don't remember inviting anyone, that's the thing," a voice called down. Travis came forward then, leaning against the second floor railing, his tattooed hands linked loosely together."Family never needs an invitation," Lyndsay said easily. "It's part of what makes us so frustrating."Travis laughed, then, shaking his head a little. "You're no family of mine," he said. "Or anyone else here."There was movement over his shoulder as the rest of his gang came into view, arranging themselves along the railing, staring down at the Dandies with disdain. Mike did a quick count and was happy to see that there were fewer vampires with Travis than he figured there should be. Maybe their people had managed to dispose of a few Hoods before the house had burned to the ground."We can play this game all night if you'd like to," Lyndsey said with a put-upon sigh, "but I'd really like to get back home. Europe has culture, you know. This place, while charming in its own way, just doesn't do it for me, I'm afraid. I'd rather not be here longer than I have to be.""You know where the door is," Travis said."See, that's the thing." Lyndsey took a step forward. Bryar and Jon stayed where they were, one pace behind her. "You know where the door is, too. That's why I have people watching all of them. Windows, too. So distracting us while Beckett slips out the back really isn't going to work.""You make me sound like a coward," Beckett said, showing up behind Travis. The Hood nearest him moved over to give him space. "You seem to think you know me, but it's been a very long time since you last saw me.""Saw you, yes, but not heard of you," Lyndsey replied. "We may live on the other side of the ocean, Beckett, but we still keep in touch.""Do you still interfere, too?" Beckett asked."You seem to have regressed over the years," Lyndsey said with a shake of her head. "You're back to blaming others for your own stupid actions. What was it, William? Did you not get enough love as a fledgling? Or did you finally realize that Nicholas only chose you because he figured that his original choice - Jon - would eventually come to his senses? Of course, he did try to temper your impulsive streak by giving you some measure of responsibility, but that didn't work out how he'd hoped, did it?"Beckett's eyes flashed, his face twisted in a terrifying mask of anger that grew darker and darker with every word she said."Though maybe I should give credit where credit is due," Lyndsey mused. "Carden turned out just right, despite your influence. He understands right and wrong. Don't you?" She turned to look at him and an unnecessary breath caught in Mike's throat. He went absolutely still, not wanting to draw attention to himself."He's as much a liar as I am," Beckett laughed. "Aren't you, Mike? A liar who can't even keep a human at his feet.""I may be a liar," Mike said softly, "but at least my fledgling isn't out there night after night, trying to tear us apart. At least I understand when to step back.""And when to run home like a crying little girl, instead of dealing with things one on one. I knew you wouldn't keep your word, Mike. I made provisions for that." He smiled sweetly, the expression sending a shiver down Mike's spine. "I believe you're staying at the Regency, correct? Were, I should say. It might not be there when you get back. You'll notice there aren't any humans around here. Sorry to take away your role in this, Brendon. We all know that you're not good for much else. Maybe in a couple of decades when you've grown up a little.""Enough!" Lyndsey yelled, her voice ringing out in the warehouse. She shot Brendon a glare, telling him without words to let the insult go and put the threat out of his mind. Mike tried to follow suit, telling himself that it was baseless, a desperate vampire clutching at straws, even though he knew it probably wasn't. The Hoods did have people, every gang did. They were conspicuously absent."We are going to walk out of here, William, and you're going to come with us. There are a lot of people who can't wait to get their hands on you, but I have plans of my own. You should be thankful for that."Beckett threw his head back and laughed."And the rest of you are going to stay right where you are and watch the pretty lights. Turnabout is fair play.""That's it, lady. Dream big," Travis laughed."You think I'm joking," Lyndsey said with a big smile, as though she'd just heard the funniest story. "But I'm not. You'll be staying because we're not going to let you leave."It came together so flawlessly that Mike couldn't help but wonder if Lyndsey's underlings were telepathic. Alicia pulled an elegant silver lighter from her pocket, flicking the wheel as Davy pulled out a small bottle of lighter fluid. Alicia threw the lighter into the stream and then Lyndsey pulled them out of the way.Lyndsey wasn't a fire starter - she couldn't create fire out of thin air. She could, however, control it once it was out in the open. Mike watched as the fire spread on either side of her, rushing toward the walls, climbing up the cheap drywall. The flames licked up to the second floor and there was chaos among the Hoods as they tried to find a way out.One by one, heavy pieces of furniture cut off their escape, tables blocking windows, crates piled on the steps. Mike chanced a look at Sean, saw the tremor in his hands, the sweat on his brow. He'd never had to concentrate so much before, had never been responsible for moving so many items at once. Soon, the tables would fall, the sofas and boxes would be easily moved out of the way. Mike turned back to the insanity on the second floor and began sending out instructions.
Walk toward the fire.
And they did."You're going to burn, William." Lyndsey called. She'd lost track of him in the smoke, was more than likely having difficulty focusing on one person when she had to work to keep the fire away from their little group on the ground floor and keep a clear path to the door. Alex, Bryar, and the Butcher stepped in, then, letting her scale back the flames while they did their best to fill in the empty spaces with their illusions. She looked a little grateful for that."You're going to burn and I'm going to let you!" Lyndsey yelled.There was the sound of breaking windows, of people jumping and the noises that came with a scuffle as the Dandies outside took care of those who were running. It wasn't Beckett, though, there would have been more noise if it had been.The heat was almost unbearable but Carden wiped the soot from his eyes and tried to see through the smoke and flames. There was a figure in the corner, flames closing in around him. Mike could just make out the bowler hat."I'll leave you here!" Lyndsey screamed. "I will walk out that door and let you die!""Okay!" Beckett yelled. "Okay!"It was like someone flipped a switch. The fire disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving the warehouse dark, the smoke heavy in the air and the electricity out due to the flames. Davy and Alicia darted up the stairs, and pulled Beckett forward. His clothes were singed, his left hand covered in a red, angry burn. He didn't say much as he stood there, wavering back and forth on unsteady feet."Get everyone else out of here," Lyndsey told Jon. "Go see to your people and find new shelter. We're going straight to the airport."Jon looked like he wanted to argue, but he was smart. He just nodded and ushered his people toward the doorway. Mike did his best to walk on the unscarred flooring, to follow the path straight to the door, but he gave up after a few steps. He was already filthy, a little more soot wouldn't make a difference.He paused when he got to the door, looking over his shoulder to watch Lyndsey address three Hoods who'd managed to survive the fire. Travis, Andrew, Disashi."You'll think twice before going against us again," she said. "Even if someone asks you for help." She turned her back on them then, catching Mike's gaze and raising an eyebrow in question. Mike quickly turned away and hurried outside to meet Jon and the others.
They saw the fire trucks before they got close enough to see the hotel itself. Beside him, Quinn slumped in his seat, while Brendon leaned forward, a determined expression on his face. Mike tried to keep his own expression neutral, but wasn't sure how successful he was. The building was soot-blackened and charred in places, the fire itself contained to the top floor, where the Dandies had been staying. The sidewalk across the street was crowded with hotel guests, standing around for lack of something to do. The cafe down the block had provided bottles of water and would, no doubt, find a way to make it tax deductible. Mike shook his head. At least vampires were upfront about their scheming nature."Spencer!" Jon called, catching sight of his boy, slumped against a lamp post, a bottle of water held awkwardly in one hand because of his cast. The boy looked up at his name and though he had a grumpy expression on his face (made that much more hilarious by the soot streaked across his nose), there was something like relief in his eyes. Jon pulled him to his feet and looked him over."I'm really fucking tired of buildings burning down," Spencer remarked."I want to sleep somewhere that isn't going to catch fire. Think you can swing that?" Ryan asked, his free hand on his hip as he looked over at Brendon. He still had one arm in a sling, held tightly against his chest to immobilize his shoulder."How did you get out?" Brendon asked, taking Ryan's bottle of water out of his hands and twisting the cap off before handing it back."You do know that doors open from the inside, right?" Ryan asked. His tone was snarky but he took the bottle anyway, taking a small sip.Mike turned away from their bickering, knowing that it would quiet eventually and that he wouldn't want to see what would happen when it did. He looked around for a moment until he saw Tom, sitting by himself on a newspaper box, heels banging against the front window. He was pointedly not looking at the place where Bryar and Greenwald were speaking in hushed tones near one of the fire hydrants."He'll be leaving soon," Mike said, startling Tom so badly that he nearly fell of the box he was sitting on."He should have already left," Tom replied, once he'd righted himself. "He promised he would."Mike fell silent at that, trying to picture how that conversation might possibly have gone. Had it happened the day that Tom had stopped fighting, had put on his Dandy clothes as surely as he was putting on a mask?"You should hurry," Mike said simply."I've already said my goodbyes," Tom said tersely. "I don't need to say them again.""Spring session midterms start soon. I'm not so sure that Schecter will ask them to overlook that. You've already done what he needed you to do."Tom's head snapped up at that, staring at Mike with disbelief and maybe a little anger. He thought he was being made fun of, Mike realized. He wondered how Tom could think him quite that cruel, given everything they'd said to each other the night before."Why are you doing this?" the boy asked, trying very hard to keep the tremor out of his voice. He wasn't entirely successful, but Mike appreciated the effort."My reasons are my own," he said."No. This doesn't make it better," Tom said, shaking his head. "Pushing it off isn't going to make me want it, it's only going to make things worse. I can't live like that.""You won't have to," Mike said. He slipped his hands into his pockets and looked off into the distance. "Talk to Alex. He'll let you just... be.""But you won't," Tom said softly."No," Mike agreed. "I won't. You should go."Tom didn't waste time arguing anymore. He slid off the paper box and hurried down the sidewalk, sidestepping displaced guests, police officers, and firefighters. Mike didn't look, wanted to see that particular reunion even less than Brendon's or Jon's. He took a few steps down the street, wanting quiet and solitude (wanting to keep himself from changing his mind), when he caught sight of three people standing in the shadow of a building far down the street. It was the bank, and Wentz was standing in the middle of the drive through lane, his hands stuffed in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, hood pulled up.He looked like hell. He hadn't been feeding, that much was clear, and probably hadn't even been sleeping much. Insomnia was unheard of among the vampires, but Mike knew that they could fight the call to sleep if they tried hard enough. That, coupled with waking early, could only result in the pale skin, drawn tight around the bones of Wentz's face; the dark circles under his eyes; the defensive hunch of his shoulders.Bryar's hunter was standing to Wentz's left, watching Mike with a wary gaze. That was to be expected, it wasn't easy knowing that your free will had been taken from you, no matter how temporary that might have been. On Wentz's other side was his long-haired, tattooed associate, bandages wrapped tightly around his elbow. Neither human looked particularly well, though that wasn't what caught Mike's attention.There was someone missing.The fair-haired hunter, the one with the hats. Patrick. The kid was Wentz's favourite, the one he had the deepest connection with.
"When you marked Patrick, you didn't even do it right - you barely gave him enough to stake your claim," Gerard had said.

The kid was important; Wentz wasn't about to risk giving him too much, changing him more than he had to.

He screamed in despair as he watched his friends, taking deep breaths, no doubt noticing the immediate change in their scents.

He'd been so angry when they'd been marked, he'd fought so hard to keep them his.
Pete dropped his head and cried out around the gag.
There was a bit of that despair in his eyes now, though it was buried below the hatred and anger. Mike recognized it easily enough, though, he'd seen it before.The kid was gone and Pete was at a loss for what to do.Well, Mike thought, turning back to take in the other Dandies standing in the street. Welcome to our world.