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I sit back down and finish my tender platter before returning to the hustle. I notice that the tenders seem a bit more flavorless than usual, but figure that the damage to the containers must be caused by the stresses on distribution.
“Your turn for lunch,” I tell Rory. She nods and moves to the back.
Outside of work, she’s been more friendly and attentive. But at work, it’s like we barely talk anymore.
I partly wonder if she feels like everything she wants to talk about, she can’t discuss with me here. She’s always put a lot of distance between her personal and professional life. And lately, our conversations have been especially private and of a more supernatural nature.
By the time I get back to my job, the rush has died down considerably, which is a relief. We have caught up with the rush, and people trickle into the bar at a snail’s pace.
It’s sundown now, which means soon, our kitchens will close, and I’ll be responsible for handling drinks before moving to dish duty for the night. When I’m alone in the back, that’s when I’ll double check the backroom to make sure I’m not just imagining things.
Something about this entire situation doesn’t make sense. But then, I know how much my mind has been playing tricks on me.
I just really wish Caspian were here.
28
CASPIAN
The warehouse where Alistair Whitewood based his operations stood before us, and our only mission was to catch his forces by surprise, so that they couldn’t escape and enact vengeance on more human populations. I shudder to think of the horrific crime scenes we’ve stumbled upon that are now all connected to Alistair. But the only thing I can think about is returning back to Quinn, knowing she’s safe.
Upon arrival, we were met with two surprises. The first was that Alistair was not only ready for us, he had prepared anti-shifter weapons for us, attacking us with silver bullets.
The second was that he seemed willing to have a conversation, as the heavy metal doors swung open, and an attack force of twelve greeted us, guns at the ready, asking for us to ‘come inside and have a chat’.
“Why would we ever want to have a conversation with you?” Ren growls. His body remains tense, as he stands alert, leaning forward and ready to lunge. He reasonably does not seem willing to talk with the enemy. Negotiations are off the table.
My point of focus is on the weapons all pointing directly at us, ready to fire if we refuse the ‘cordial’ offer. The message is not so much one of cooperation, but of forced compliance. Which is why I also tense up as Ren refuses the offer.
From a strategic point of view, maybe it would have been smarter to play along?
“Very well,” Alistair says, grinning sadistically. “Cripple the pup.”
I watch in horror, the scene slowed before my eyes, as one of the vampires beside Alistair fires a silver bullet right into Ren’s shoulder.
Visibly in my peripheral, I can see the PEACE members beside me trembling in shock. They look torn, feet positioned forward as though their bodies urge them to attack - to deliver an offensive in retaliation. But their minds are hesitant, and though Ren is crumpling to the ground, he is not dead yet.
“Vampire.”
There are several in our company that fit that description, but as he looks at me, I know he’s singling me out.
“You want your friend to live, don’t you?” He asks me. “You seem like a reasonable one. Why don’t we move our conversation inside?”
I look back to the members of our group. None of us are really in charge of this mission, but I know that I’m being pressed to act for them.
And the way the vampires behind Alistair stabilize their grip on their weapons, I know they aren’t playing around.
“Come in and talk with me,” he insists again, as I look around the warehouse and around to the faces of my colleagues for a hint, uncertain of what to do. “Or we riddle your friend full of bullets.”
“Don’t you dare do it,” Ren says, about ready to collapse on the floor.
“They outnumber us, buddy,” I tell him. “I think it’s the only way.”
“I don’t care if I die here,” Ren tells me. “Do what needs to be done.”
I look to the vampires, still ready to fire, many cocking their guns in preparation. I feel like speaking the intimate details of our plan out loud might be ill-advised, but Ren is so weak, I don’t think he can hold a mental connection.
Still, I have to try.
