Tainted Night, Tainted Blood

10



Ethan was waiting for me when I returned home. One of my swords was resting on the table in front of him. He snatched it up as I came in but set it down as soon as he saw me.

“What did he want?” he asked. I was surprised to hear heat in his voice.

I didn’t answer right away. It was obvious Ethan wasn’t all that happy with me right then and I wanted to organize my thoughts. I sat down across from him and began removing my weapons and setting them on the table.

“We’re going to try to find whoever has been killing the wolves and vamps lately,” I said once everything was sitting in front of me.

“Are you sure you can trust him?”

Now that was a tricky question. I never really trusted anyone, aside from maybe Ethan, but nodded anyway. I couldn’t let him think I was going into this unprepared. “This is something that needs to be taken care of, and the sooner the better.”

Ethan took a deep breath and let it out slowly between his teeth. He ran his fingers through his hair twice, messing it up even more than it usually was. His entire body shook as he tapped his foot under the table.

“Is something wrong?”

He took another huffing breath and looked out the glass back door. It was still deep night and only the outline of the trees surrounding my property could be seen. The gloom made it seem that much darker, as did Ethan’s mood.

“That was that Jonathan guy, right? The one from the Luna Cult?”

I nodded.

“And he came here, to our place, asking for your help again?”

I didn’t nod this time. I wasn’t sure how to answer. I could tell he wasn’t happy about the arrangement at all. I think he would have been much happier disposing of a body than seeing me sitting around all buddy-buddy with a werewolf.

I had to admit, I wasn’t so sure I didn’t agree.

“He knows where we live. Since you didn’t do anything to dissuade him from coming, he’ll do it again.”

“What’s your point?”

“It isn’t safe,” Ethan said. “You know what they’re like.”

“They?”

“You know? Werewolves?” Ethan shifted in his seat, refusing to meet my eyes. “I can’t believe you actually like the guy after everything that’s happened to you.”

“I never said I liked him.”

He gave me an incredulous look. “Right,” he said. “Who else could have come waltzing up to your front door without you killing him? If you don’t like him, then something else is going on.”

I wanted to protest but kept quiet. I really didn’t want to think about my reasoning for not dropping Jonathan the moment I opened the door. Ethan was right. If it had been anyone else, I probably would have shot them.

“He and the Cult have their uses,” I said, a bit too defensively for my liking.

“I know,” Ethan said. “But he gives me the willies, you know? It’s like living with a vampire and hanging around a demon isn’t enough? I’m not sure I could handle you making kissing faces around a werewolf.”

My mouth fell open. Kissing faces? “I think you’re getting the wrong idea.”

Ethan bit his lip. “He scares me,” he said after a moment. “He gave me a look, one you didn’t see. I swear he was thinking about hurting me, like he was afraid I was going to tell on him or something.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Is it?” Ethan shook his head. “I’m not so sure.”

I started to say something more, some other defense to why I hadn’t turned Jonathan away the first moment I saw him, but stopped. Why was I defending myself? I knew what I was doing was stupid on so many levels. I mean, what would Ethan think if he knew it wasn’t just Jonathan and the Cult I was working with, but Adrian Davis as well? He would probably bust a gasket.

Ethan started to reach across the table toward me but jerked back before coming anywhere close. “They had me for a long time.” He spoke so low, it was a near whisper. “Valentino kept me locked up with barely enough to eat, forced me to watch my family die. I ... I saw things, things I don’t want to remember.”

He struggled for more words but closed down instead. He looked away, tears glinting in his eyes.

I stared at him, shocked. In all the years we had lived together, he never truly told me what had happened to him those weeks he was held under Valentino’s control. I knew his family had been killed, knew he had witnessed it, but other than that, I knew almost nothing else.

What had they done to him?

I probably should have said something, should have comforted him. I should have put my arm around him, told him everything was going to be okay, even if I wasn’t so sure I believed it myself. He needed that.

But I didn’t. My life might be a f*cked-up mess, but that didn’t mean Ethan had suffered any less. Sure, he got to keep his humanity where I didn’t, but was that really any better? He couldn’t fight back as easily as I could. He needed someone there to watch out for him, and I was supposed to be that person.

But I had no idea how to comfort him. I wasn’t sure he would even want me to try.

We sat there for a good long while, neither of us saying anything. It was one of those moments when nothing that could be said would ever make anything right, where not even a simple gesture of compassion could ever be enough.

“When do you start?” he asked, suddenly breaking the silence. His eyes were red, but the tears had stopped. He looked a lot more like the teenager I had taken in rather than the young man he had become.

“Tomorrow night.”

He fidgeted a moment and then stood. “I’ve got some things to take care of.” He gave me a weak smile. “Work, work.”

Before I could say anything more, he took off toward the stairs and his lab, leaving all my weapons behind. I figured he would come back up and check them later. Probably when I was upstairs and he wouldn’t have to face me.

I felt numb. After everything that had happened recently, this somehow seemed the worst. Ethan wasn’t really all that mad at me, yet for some reason, I felt terrible for making him feel bad. Why couldn’t I seem to do anything right lately?

I rose and went to the living room. It wasn’t until the television clicked on that I realized what I was doing. I almost turned the damn thing off and walked away, but my timing had been perfect.

The news was on.

I stared at it, knowing what I was waiting for without really thinking about it. Part of me had to know, to see the results of what I had done.

I didn’t have to wait long.

The report came on with a somber-looking reporter standing on a familiar street. I could see the spot where the truck had landed, though it was long gone by now. The stain of red was clearly evident just off to the reporter’s right.

I scarcely dared to breathe. He talked of the injured officer, how he had been heading home when he called in a car accident. Their best guess was the werewolf lying dead nearby had been the driver and had attacked the cop. Before he could finish the job, someone else came along and killed the werewolf. It wasn’t clear who, but the officer’s family was thankful.

Thinking back to the flutter of the curtain in the house across the street, I expected the reporter to mention talking to witnesses, but if they had, he never mentioned it. Maybe the subtle movement had been my imagination after all.

The reporter babbled on a bit more, talking about the dangers of going out at night, how it is best to keep doors and windows firmly locked, before sending it back to the studio. The female anchor looked grim as she took up the story. What she had to say caused me to sag in my seat and a relieved sigh escaped my lips.

The cop had lived. He was in critical condition and had yet to wake up, but he was alive.

I turned off the television and went upstairs, shaking. I don’t know why it bothered me so much. The guy had lived. There was still a chance he might die, but I was hoping he would make it. He would be able to tell everyone what had really happened, but I was pretty sure he never got a good look at me, so it shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t like the Pureblood police ever went after supes anyway.

It made me sick to think that such a thing could go unpunished. The cop hadn’t done anything and I had nearly killed him. Something should be done. I didn’t really care what.

I sat down on the edge of my bed, trying to come up with something that would make everything okay. Once again, my life was flooded with crap I didn’t know how to handle: There was the whole cop thing, Adrian and his wolf I killed, the murderer, Ethan and his demon. What else could possibly happen?

I laid back and stared at the ceiling. I would get through this. Somehow, someway, I could do it. I managed to keep from going crazy when I was turned, I could do it again now. This was nothing compared to that. I just needed to weather this storm and wait for the next inevitable gale to wash over me. Things couldn’t get any worse.

Could they?