I take a seat in the corner of the café. It’s my first time coming to this chic place in North End, where the TD Garden serves as an impressive backdrop to the small, brick building. I was supposed to be here about a week ago, and I can only hope that Henry will still check in despite the lapse. Music plays quietly, not in that obnoxious way that makes it impossible to think or encourages you to get out. The chatter of the baristas is louder, but they sound like they’re pleasantly gossiping, instead of complaining about work. There are a couple other people here, they give me the usual looks that I learned to ignore by now. I ordered a coffee with oat milk and turmeric and I’m not sure if I like it. It tastes like a spice shop smells and oddly…goaty. I’m so focused on determining whether it's an acquired taste or just not for me when the door swings open, chimes above jingling merrily in direct juxtaposition to Henry’s expression, which is withdrawn and tight.

It could be because the sun is still out and as such, he looks ridiculous. Overcoat, gloves, scarf, wide-brimmed hat, and large sunglasses. I’d feel bad for him, okay…I do feel bad for him, but there’s some instances where the Order of Cerberus needs another perspective. The Sentinels can’t determine what all the gruesome deaths are about, so it’s time to ask the vampires. Of course, I still have issues thinking of Henry as a vampire, and probably always will. I imagine his fellows would say he’s not very good at it though. Or maybe I’m just bitter that it happened when it did, after we were done. I wouldn’t say I’m a fang banger or anything, but there is a dangerous allure to those fangs and that hunger.

I drink more of my coffee as he crosses the shop to order food he won’t eat, but it keeps the illusion going. I decide I don’t like it; it tastes like old curry, but it was expensive so I’m determined to finish it. Henry sits down on the leather loveseat opposite me. It’s exceptionally old and well used, sinking precariously where he sits. I glance at the chair next to me, cushion darkened and stained and I’m suddenly glad I didn’t give the one I’m seated in closer inspection.

“I’m glad you came,” I say.

Henry gives me a wry look that I can’t fault him for.

“I know, I know…we said Wednesday…”

“And it’s Friday…and the wrong week,” Henry replies tersely.

“I couldn’t get away,” I lie. “Anyway, I’m here now. What can you tell me about these murders?”

Henry sighs, letting the issue of my tardiness go as he collects his thoughts on the matter at hand. “They’re all werewolves,” he says. “Castillo is making sure the bodies are going to his morgue, it’s all very hush hush.”

“Castillo?” I ask, tensing slightly as I lean towards him. “So, he is involved.”

“Insomuch that he is collecting the dead, yes,” Henry says. “Whether he is directly involved with whoever is responsible, I haven’t been able to tell. He’s not the sort you can stroll up to and ask you know.”

“I know,” I reply. “I wouldn’t expect you to try.”

I lean back in my seat, listening to the cheery pop song playing that now sounds like it’s mocking the serious situation. “Okay…so we have five deaths so far, at least that’s what Cerberus accounts for.”

“Six,” Henry interjects. “There was another one late last night. I saw Brianna taking the corpse away.”

“Castillo’s second?” I ask. Castillo’s pack is so large and the turnover seems to be high. I have to be sure I’m remembering everyone correctly. Henry nods in confirmation. “I can’t imagine they’d go killing their own. It’s not like them. Castillo might be a merciless bastard, but he’s never targeted wolves like this. The only time I heard that he did was when that kid tried to challenge him to become Alpha.”

“Which is part of their…culture for lack of a better word,” Henry points out. In other words, the type of incident that Cerberus wasn’t meant to get involved in. “There’s another thing…the bodies, they’re all drained of blood. I’m not sure if it’s meant to try and put the blame on vampires – although I can tell you no vampire did this.”

“Drained of blood,” I muse. “Was it collected or left around the body?”

“Collected.”

“So, we have vampires…potentially. Your lot is crafty that way, deceptive. Not you!” I exclaim at his sudden indignant expression.

“There was no sense of my kind around the crime scenes, Riley. None whatsoever.”

“Then maybe it’s someone else who could use blood. Like a mage, witch, or warlock. Not a great alternative.”

“What would they use it for?” Henry asks.

I wince internally and shake my head. Before, I couldn’t share things with him because he was one of the mundane, a regular person who didn’t need to be thrust into the “real”, real world. Now that he is a vampire, he needs to be excluded because he’s deemed a threat. Cerberus wouldn’t act against him unless he gave them reason to, but he is not to know the inner workings of the Order, as anything that could be ‘shared with another’ would put the Order at risk. I know that he would never, but I also know if I divulge certain information, it would be just the excuse my fellow Centurions would use to target Henry. No one at headquarters is very happy with my ongoing friendship with him. Except Billy, but he’s a renegade himself.

“Right,” he says and to his credit he doesn’t sound bitter. I would’ve, but then he always was way more level headed than me. “Those with magic smell a certain way, if I catch that sort of scent, I’ll let you know.”

“Be careful,” I warn him. “I don’t want you engaging them, so many jump to learning fire spells and well…you’re especially vulnerable to that.”

“Thank you for the reminder,” Henry replies.

“You’re friendly with Brianna, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Friendly is…probably overstating it,” Henry says.

“Turn on your charm then, Mr. Stone, and see if it will be enough to let you see the bodies. I’d have so much more to go on if I could see one, even in pictures.”

“Wha…my charm?”

I sigh, rubbing my forehead. Still the innocent sort, even after everything. “Yes. Your charm. Or, tell her the truth, that you want to stop these murders too because it puts everyone at risk.”

“I don’t know, Riley…”

“Hey, it’s all on a volunteer basis,” I say. “Do what you want.”

Tension falls over us, everything around us bright and colorful while a storm cloud came over Henry’s dark eyes. I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything else, after getting snippy with my last comment. Some things never changed.

“Sorry,” I finally manage to get out.

“It’s fine,” Henry replies and from him, I believe it.

“So, I’m going to start listening in with our Incantatores. They’re usually well-tuned to magic, they may have a good lead now that I know one might be involved. Remember, if you continue…be careful. We don’t know who the killer is or what they’re after, and getting involved in Castillo’s syndicate in any way is probably worse than running into said killer.”

“It’s wonderful to have such good options,” Henry sighs.

I laugh, because if there is one thing that is consistent between us it’s never having good options. “Cheers,” I say, lifting my weird tasting coffee that I can’t wait to wash away with my own, cheap brand when I get home.

“Get some sleep,” he suggests, as if he read my mind. Maybe he did. I’m still not sure what sort of abilities he gained since his turn; he doesn’t like to talk about it.

“Maybe when the criminal has been apprehended. Or killed.”

“You should be careful too then,” Henry says. “If you won’t take care of yourself otherwise.”

“Hm,” is my noncommittal response before wrinkling my nose after another sip of coffee. “God, I wish you could taste this. It is fucking awful.”

“Suddenly I’m glad I’m incapable of such things,” Henry chuckles.