Dylan has to clear his head and get ready for the important things...
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Chapter 8.
"Your phone doesn’t work because it’s crap," John said bluntly. He placed his laptop on the end table next to his lawn chair and leaned back to watch the ocean in the distance.
"And you get reception on that thing?" Dylan hooked a thumb at the computer. He stood in the doorway to the cabin and listened to Tina and Louis as they talked investigative plans. Paula and Henry were already out, with a long list of supplies.
"Of course I do. I hook in with my phone, which has great reception, because I don’t have cheap service."
"Rub it in, why don’t you."
"Okay," John obliged. "Your service sucks and your phone is a fucking fossil. Get a new phone."
"Why should I, when I got nerds like you with all the new and cool gadgets around to enable me?" Dylan pulled up a chair and sat down. He kicked his feet up on the deck rail. "Louis picked up a few things at the store. I think I can make you and Tina something real nice tonight with what you guys brought. It will be something for everyone. Louis picked up some red snapper for Paula and him."
It was hard for him to focus on mundane affairs, aware Dobson was out there, and there was a murderer still loose on the island. It was even harder knowing that the twins were in trouble. But Anna had taught him to use his culinary skills to tame his temper, and he hadn't forgotten her lessons.
"What I want to know is, why did they send a jerk like Desmond to New York in the first place?" John scrolled down his computer screen and checked his comic blog.
"Desmond?"
"The guy the twins killed, Paul Desmond. He’s an accountant, been around for hundreds of years. Of course, rumors have it he does more than accounting. He works for the Elders. There’s some irony for you: two inexperienced kids killed him at dawn. They got lucky, believe me. Demons like him are weakest when it’s light. The fact they’re kids and pure hearted fae spirits really must have hurt, too." John peered up from his computer. "No great loss as far as I’m concerned."
So, the girls had caught a cambion hunting mortals in the park, someone connected to the Elders of the European League, and killed him? Dylan fought desperately against an immediate urge to return home. "They could have gotten killed. Not to mention that now the League is on their asses." Dylan banged his head on the back of his wooden chair. Why the hell hadn’t Filipe or Angelus told him any of this?
Well, duh. They wanted him to stay put and let them handle it.
"I’m surprised you have brain cells left," John said, watching Dylan bashing his head against the wood.
"Fuck off, man, I’m serious here."
"Is Jason doing the investigation?" John held his gaze until Dylan nodded. "Then they’ll be fine. Isabella is Magistrate now. She’ll cut them a break."
Even if John was right, he didn’t feel any better. He wanted to be there for the girls. "Lou and I gave them a call before we got here. They told us the same thing."
"Good thing Isabella turned down the trip, eh?" John rubbed it in. Dylan had done a good job forgetting he’d been a roommate with the vampire politician at one time. "Even if she should be here."
A moment of silence fell between them.
Dylan looked down to the sandy deck. "She wasn't with us long, and I don’t think she likes thinking about that part of her life."
"You know, Dyl, you need to get over what Isabella did. She’s still one of us."
Dylan shrugged. Isabella was a sore spot. "Yeah, whatever."
"You’re a pretty open-minded guy… until you get to Isabella’s transition, then you get all redneck about it." John sighed angrily. "Get over it. She’s the same person. She didn’t abandon us. She grew up and found herself, just like the rest of us."
"It has nothing to do with that, man, he blew off my wedding! She never stopped by to visit, she never called, she never even sent a card." Dylan.
"You can tell yourself whatever you want, dude, but there’s baggage between you two." John closed his computer. "And did you just say he blew off your wedding?"
"Sorry, she," he corrected himself, feeling stupid and, yes, bigoted. A total asshole. At the time, he’d been so busy working out his revenge that he’d been blind to his own friends’ struggles. John and he were often on the same page, both of them revenants, both of them out to change the world. But people like Julio—now Isabella—and Henry were just trying to live their lives. Henry went with the flow, Isabella struggled to fit in, even though she knew she wasn’t comfortable in her own skin.
"Better." John stretched. "Guess you’re gonna have to trust her to make sure things go well in New York for your girls?"
"Guess so. It’s just gonna take me time, John. I mean, Isabella was a friend, we all hung out, worked together, went to those crazy conventions together. Hell, I remember her dressing up in that…" He struggled to recall the name. Isabella loved the old Star Trek and dressed as one of the green aliens. "…Orion Girl outfit."
"And even you commented she had good legs." John smirked as he remembered. "It was a great hall costume."
"Better than those wax Spook ears you had."
"That’s Mr. Spock, and you’re an insult to all geekdom, Dyl." John in turn banged his head into the back of his wooden chair.
"Does make you feel better, doesn’t it?" Dylan asked, looking off at the sea. Waves rolled in as the ocean climbed slowly up the beach.
"Which one, the act of violence on my cranium, or the landscape? Both, if you’re asking." They both sat quietly for a while and looked at the water. "We all miss the old days. We had no real responsibilities then and life was an adventure. We thought we were superheroes." John shook his head and laughed.
"Anna had her hands full."
Just like he had his hands full with the twins, Yu, and the others. When had he become Anna? Or was that his problem? He wasn’t Anna, and was trying way too hard to be her? He was a hunter, after all. Dylan watched the waves and whitecaps peak in the distance. Anna hadn’t relied on others like he did. Was that a sign of weakness? He needed to do it all, right? His dad sure would have. But he also knew that Louis would kick him for thinking that. Maybe I shouldn't think so much about what my old man would've done. Didn't work out so well for him. "So, about last night."
"I think it’s a dumb idea to challenge him, Dyl. If your old man couldn’t blow him up after you blew his head off, shooting him a second time makes you a dumb shit and still won’t kill him."
John just assumed he was going to go after the demon. Well, yes, a part of him wanted to. "In theory, if I did go after him, he can die, John." Dylan drew one knee up and wrapped an arm about it. "I just need to know the right kind of spell to use on him. Hell, the right kind of prayer would work, if I knew what kind of demon he is."
John shrugged. "Well, I’m not a sorcerer. Nor do I have much use for it. That’s Filipe’s and Paula’s expertise, and you’re the monster hunter. I’ll just have to take your word on it. So… are you going to go after him?"
The real problem was that one thing he really understood was hunting. Dylan rose to his feet. The Blackwells and their friends had a way of destroying children. If his gut was right, and the fairy kid was connected to the demon, he would eventually have to face him. Then again, Louis’ concern about the fae war was possible. "Depends on where the evidence takes us, John."
Either way, it made Dylan wonder if the girl was savable? He really didn't know. Too many things he didn't know. Hell, he didn't even know what kind of creature the girl really was. Saving her would depend on how salvageable she really was. "Well, getting to be time for dinner," he said, with a slight smile.
Like everything else, information for a hunt came with time. With luck, the revenant part of him hoped Dobson would be his old nemesis; then only one head would roll.
But there was still New York to worry about. He sighed. "I’ll be back in a few."
It took three tries and walking entirely around the cabin to get through. One of these days, Dylan thought, he would get a phone like John’. The geek was right. His was crap. The only problem was… Anna had bought him this phone. Dylan’s grip on his cell phone tightened as he finally heard the click of someone answering.
"Yes?" came the soft voice of a teenage girl.
"Hey, Christie! How you doing?"
"Dylan?! It’s Dylan!" she said excitedly. She was definitely not herself; she didn’t even attempt to play the twin game with him. Instead, she just sounded very relieved to hear from him.
"You’re having a good time, right?" came a second voice. "No hunting?" That was Cheryl; she was the mother hen of the two.
"I’m having a good time and I’m…" He didn’t want to lie to them. How could he not say he wasn’t hunting, when he was, well, he was investigating, so was that hunting. "Well… There was a man…"
"Angie told us all about it," they both said at the same time. "You saw a fairy. Is she trouble? Or is she in trouble?"
"Might be." He drew a breath, thinking about the flying girl. He forgot sometimes that the girls viewed themselves as fae as well as shape-shifters.
"She had wings, didn’t she?"
That’s not the point at all. "She murdered someone, honey; she might be unseelie." He drew a breath. They were still waiting for his answer. "Yes, four wings, transparent wings, like a dragonfly."
"Fairies can be very malicious, Dylan." It was Cheryl. "Old Bear kept us well away from them. Some of them will take you away to dark places and rip your flesh off your bones. Even if they’re pretty, they’re fallen, and not a part of the United Fae Alliance. They don’t care about pretty things, honor or love."
It was her way of saying be careful. "Are you two all right?"
"Still shaking. He… Desmond… was scary." It was Christie. "He was going to eat a lady. And I panicked. I kept thinking of Stonebear." Her voice shook, and he thought he heard her sniffle and Cheryl whisper something to her. Yeah, no surprise there. Stonebear had been the monster that had killed the Twins’ parents, left them orphaned so that Old Bear had to raise them, after killing Stonebear himself.
"It’s okay, Christie," he said, reassuring her. "Angelus called in a lawyer and Qui will make sure no one removes you from the halfway house, and Liam will back her. You and Cheryl will be okay."
"Killing is unseelie," she whispered. "He was really bad in my bones, bad. He was evil. He was going to eat us. I don’t ever want to become like that."
"Did you talk to Doc Sacco?" Dylan asked. He should have been there. He understood what it was like. The first kill hurt, and he had been a kid, too, when he’d made his.
"Some. But talking isn't making it go away." She sharply inhaled. "The League’s gonna kill us."
"Tell him we’re talking to them soon," Dylan heard Cheryl say, obviously talking to her sister. "The League wants the trial in their court." Cheryl said. Her voice was brave, but he heard a hint of tears. She was crying, too.
"I heard that. Don’t you worry, Isabella will keep it in New York. She’ll kick those League bigots out of town if she has to. When I was your age, I did stupid shit, too. My ass was in Jason’, Anna’, and Liam’s hands more than once." As he spoke, Dylan paced back and forth along the water’s edge. It took most of his strength to keep from losing his temper. If only he had better control over his own shadow-walking skills, he could be there in the time it took to argue. "You’ll be fine. Angie, Qui, Filipe and Jason have this in the bag. You’ll be better than fine."
"Dylan, we’re really sorry. We didn’t plan on hunting. Is she gonna be safe? The lady?"
"Jason has a plan to find her."
"When are you and Louis coming home?"
"Soon, honey. When I’m done here, I’m flying back. Now, did Angie tell you to say NOTHING to the EuroLeague investigators?"
"Yes." Cheryl replied. "And he said let the lawyer talk."
Of course he did, you dumbshit, you’re worrying your fucking ass for nothing. While Louis and the others are sitting cool and pretty on the beach, you’re being a big old hen sitting on her eggs again. Let it go man, gotta trust in your pals …
"Good. You do exactly that. When I get back, we’ll talk more about it, ok?"
"Thank you, Dylan." Once more they spoke in chorus. "Take care, and you and Louis come home soon?"
"Will do, and you don’t let anyone take you guys away, regardless of how guilty you feel, got it? If worst comes to worst, you go with your grandparents."
"Okay," they said. "Louis said to call them if they tried."
Fuck that chilling Elder "let it go" bullshittery, he called, too.
"Yeah, you do that, we’ll make John shadow-walk our asses there." He heard them giggle.
"Ok girls, gotta go. Keep together and good luck."
He found he felt better, just having talked to them. He could tell from their voices that hearing from him had made them feel better. But more than that, Christie and Cheryl were in good hands, Not only did they have Angelus, Filipe, Qui and Jason, they had the SoHo Psychological staff and counselors, the same people who had taken care of him when he’d had his problems as a kid.
He needed to get a grip and let go. "You know I love you girls like family, right?"
"We love you too, Dylan. You and Louis stay safe, okay? No chasing bad fairies." They both sounded worried.
"We’ll be ok," he assured them. But it took a few more exchanges to convince the girls that Dylan really would be careful. He couldn't blame them for being maybe a touch over-worried. Before they had come to O’Reily’s, the twins had lost a lot; it hadn't just been their parents; most of their clan had been killed by Stonebear. Their grandparents were only able to save the twins; the rest of their family had perished in front of them.
They didn’t want to lose their new family now, and they knew all too well what abominations could lurk within fae and spirits that went bad. "Thank you, ladies, your concern is well taken. I’ll be very careful. Now I have to go. Talk to you later."
"Good-bye, Dylan," they said. Their voices were noticeably more cheerful.
He hung up, also feeling a little of that weight lifted. Now I can focus on the real problems: a flying fairy killer, and a demon named Dobson!
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