I emerge with a swell of people from the bowels of the T at Fields Corner. It’s a 15-minute walk back to my house, which was purchased by the Order of Cerberus. Centurions may not have a long life expectancy, but at least we never had to worry about rent. Fair trade, really. Boston is not a cheap place to live, but there’s nowhere I’d rather be.

I follow the usual route down Lincoln Street, passing familiar shops and offices, the air full of the sound of cars and the smell of exhaust and various foods. My stomach is still trying to process that coffee, and I decide to make it better (or worse?) by stopping in at Saigon’s Seafood restaurant and ordering an embarrassing amount of crab Rangoon. The food is excellent, but the cream cheese isn’t going to help. Neither is the beer, but if I’m going to be dealing with a serial killer with a clear hatred for werewolves then I might as well sneak a few cheat meals into my days.

Once I consume the equivalent of ‘what are you doing with your life’ Rangoons, I leave the restaurant and walk the rest of the way to my home. The houses on Everdean Street are tall but narrow. Mine is three stories, if you can count the top floor as a full floor. It’s more of a loft where my bed and dresser reside to keep them out of the way. It also has an unfinished basement that I’m sure my neighbors would raise their eyebrows at if they ever went down there. It looks like a sex dungeon, with chains and everything, but it’s all for my job rather than kink fulfillment.

Okay, it’s mostly just for my job.

I walk up the brick steps and unlock the front door, giving a brief wave and smile to my next-door neighbor Maceo as he tends his potted plants out front. He looks like he wants to say something, but I step inside and shut the door before he can. He’s not a bad guy, I’m just too invested in being a reclusive hermit while off duty that I don’t give anyone a real chance to make an impression. Breathing a sigh of relief at the relative quiet, I kick off my shoes in the foyer and head into the living room as I muse over everything Henry told me earlier.

A werewolf killer. It stood to reason the murderer had issues with Alejandro Castillo, which isn’t much of a surprise. The crime boss has a reputation for brutality and a rigid structure to his syndicate that must leave a lot of resentment in those affected by it negatively. Of course, directly targeting his pack is a dangerous choice. They are extremely well organized, so much so that even though the Order knows they put the general population of Boston at risk, we never move against them openly. It would be war, and we’d lose too many to say it would be worth it. But when the werewolf death toll became high enough…I know we can expect Castillo to do something drastic in response, and that response might put everything at risk.

I can feel a headache brewing between my temples. With a sigh, I unbutton my shirt and toss it carelessly to the sofa. Giving a cursory look to the windows to ensure the blinds are down, I then proceed to do my usual twisting dance to get my binder off. I really need to order the next size up, but I’m determined my increased exercise will decrease my chest enough that I’ll fit into it properly eventually. Hopefully. In the meantime, I’ll continue clawing at my back since a fair amount rolled up and got stuck under my armpits again.

“Do you need help, kid?”

“FUCK!”

My heart is racing somewhere up in my throat as I wheel around to see Billy leaning against the frame of the cased opening to the living room. He must have rounded the corner from the kitchen when he heard me come in. He looks bemused at my plight and I feel my face flush as I stand there, hunched over, my elbows bent sharply and my torso all but completely bare. A quick assessment shows I haven’t revealed…anything important, but I’m still fuming. As if it makes it at all better, Billy raised his hands to cover his eyes after the fact, but he’s not bothering to hide his mirth. With an angry yank, I get the fabric off and storm over to the sofa to snatch my shirt up, pulling it back into place and buttoning it with gusto. It’s uneven and looks like I attempted to dress while drunk, but whatever.

“How did you get in here?” I demand.

“Your back slider was unlocked,” Billy replies.

“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t! Besides, the patio gate definitely was.”

“Semantics,” he says dismissively.

“That’s not even how that comeback works,” I point out irately. If it isn’t for the fact that Billy is…well, Billy, then I would have hit him before kicking him out. As it stands, I’m just flustered that he saw me struggling. It’s not something I like to put on display.

He senses my discomfort and irritation, because the amusement drains from his features to something more solemn. “Sorry,” he says. It’s too bad I’m not Henry, because I just flip him off instead of accepting it, but I do sit down on the sofa rather than chasing him out of my house.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I remind him.

“I know, but I thought you should know there’s been another death. That’s six now.”

“I already know that,” I say with some level of petty triumph. “Henry told me.”

“You have Henry working on this?”

“He’s looking into it on his own and we compare notes.”

“I’m sure,” Billy snorts, which tells me exactly what he thinks about my feeble deception. Why I bother lying to a Sentinel, I’m not sure. I’m well aware that the Order’s seers have an uncanny ability to pick up on lies the moment they’re said. “Did you know that Sheldon saw the most recent death in his last vision?”

My eyes widen a fraction. “No, I didn’t.”

“Mm. Yes, our esteemed Senior Sentinel witnessed a werewolf being taken down by a vampire.”

“Henry said it wasn’t the vampires.”

“What does Henry really know about the covens though?”

I wish Billy didn’t have such a good point, but considering Henry still lives mostly as a human there is a chance that the coven vampires wouldn’t divulge anything to him.

“Why would any of the covens mess with Castillo’s pack?” I ask.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Billy sighs. “They’ve followed our Treatise for years, it’s more beneficial to both sides that they don’t step on each other’s toes. Or, rip each other's throats out.”

“Maybe the vampire isn’t part of any of the covens,” I venture.

“Some newcomer to the city wreaking havoc?” Billy ask. “Great.”

“Right? But…can’t we arrange a meeting with Castillo? Find out if he pissed off a vampire lately?”

“He’d probably assume we’d arrest him again.”

“Neutral ground?”

“Good luck getting him to agree to anything that isn’t his own territory.”

“Or we could increase patrols and hope we stumble across the killer before they find more werewolves to slaughter,” I grouse. “Maybe you Sentinels could use your bones and star charts to zero in on them before we see chaos overwhelm the whole city.”

“I do have a prominent baculum that tends to point in the right direction,” Billy muses, ignoring my grumpy sarcasm. “Although it doesn’t compare to Whiteworm.”

I frown at him, but I know better than to chastise him about his addictions by now. It won’t do anything but cause contention, and I’ve enough to worry about without adding a fight with Billy to the list. He’s my favorite Sentinel to work with, not only for his laid-back demeanor, but for the fact he’s one of the few in the Order I can talk to about things beyond the mission. I know it causes rumors, I’ve heard other Centurions whispering about it, and I should care because if we’re deemed to be violating the rules the consequences aren’t anything to scoff at. But I can’t release this bit of selfishness.

I sprawl out across the sofa, feet hanging over the arm rest as I look up at the water stain on the ceiling. “I should go to the office.”

“Why? Just to be there instead of here?” Billy asks. “We can’t do a whole lot more than what we’re doing already, kid. So, you should rest up while you can.”

“I hate waiting around,” I sigh, rubbing my abdomen when a low, rumbling whine sounds. Hello, cream cheese. “If the killer is a vampire and if they are going to kill again, then we should have more patrols tonight.”

“We do have more patrols tonight,” Billy points out. “You’re just not on the roster until tomorrow.”

“Well, I should be on tonight.”

“Uh, take it up with Carver then.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m still on her shit list.”

“Probably from breaking so many rules. Which, oh yeah, may be the reason you’re on the day shift now.”

I shrug, but he has a point. Sometimes Cerberus moves too slowly for my liking. Most of the time my impulses pay off, a lot of times they just get me into trouble with the boss, and Betty Carver is not a woman anyone should wish as an enemy. I think I’m still firmly in the annoyance list rather than the adversarial one, but I’m on thin ice after the incident with the gnomes.

“Fine,” I relent. “I’ll stay in and watch Netflix while hoping a war between vampires and werewolves doesn’t break out in the middle of a binge.”

“The city will survive without you prowling her streets,” Billy replies. “So, try to relax, Mr. Averline, and I’ll call you if there’s anything worth an update.”

“One wonders why you couldn’t just call me about the murder I already knew about,” I say. By now, my frustration with him is gone and I’m able to make it clear that I’m only teasing.

“I was out of food,” Billy replies, and I know he is not only teasing.

“Wonderful. I’ll just go ahead and restock my entire kitchen in the meantime then, thanks.”

Billy tips an invisible hat to me and bids me a good night before heading out the front door. I get up to lock it behind him, taking the protective pendant from my neck and hanging it over the doorknob instead to keep him from waltzing in again. When that’s done, I move through the darkened hall and into the kitchen, where I see the remnants of Billy’s feast spread out over the counters. Why I put up with his shit…I’ll never know. I sigh and set a ward at the back door for good measure, almost hoping he’ll break in again so he can deal with the pus-filled sores that will afflict him if he does. I may not be able to do magic, but it does pay to work with a bunch of people who can.

I spend the evening tidying up, which may have been Billy’s intention all along so I wouldn’t rush out to find the killer. I still can’t help but to think there’s more to it than a rogue vampire. That’s too simple. It feels like something more.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

I wake early the next morning, about an hour before my alarm is set thanks to someone’s car alarm going off down the street. I spend too much time thinking about how I don’t want to get up to the point that it's much harder than it should be to swing my legs over the bed and stand up. With a yawn, I brush my fingers through my short hair, seeing a couple dark strands make themselves comfortable against my white pillowcase. Bad choice, that white.

After staggering into the shower and then downing a half assed breakfast that mostly consists of coffee, my glorious, cheap coffee, I get dressed and head out the door to return to the subway station. I go the usual route, with my earbuds firmly in place and music I actually like muffling the sound of station announcements and advertisements blaring through the train. I grip the support rail more tightly as the train stops, then lurches forward again, crowded with a bunch of people who are all trying to make themselves as small as possible. I look out the dark window, to see all the flashing ads painted onto the walls of the subway because why give someone a break even for a second?

I change lines as necessary until I step into a gloomy morning on Beacon Street. It looks like it’s going to rain.

I pass the Athenaeum with the same thought I do every time I acknowledge it, that I really ought to stop by after work and browse. I know I’ll forget by the end of my shift, or I’ll be too tired to want to go anywhere but home. Although these days I don’t have as many cases as I’d like, so maybe I’ll have a chance after all…

Not right now, however. I walk past it and turn the corner and resist going into the local Irish coffee shop, with delicious coffee instead of strange, to enter the building next door. It’s an office building, angular and sharp. The Order owns it, although they do rent out a couple of the lower-level offices to mundane businesses. It’s about staying grounded, the higher ups will explain when asked, but I think it’s about the cost of rent. It doesn’t matter, we almost never see those normal people, and they’re in such competitive fields they don’t stop to chat when we do.

I take the elevator to the seventh floor, which opens to the reception area of the mid-level Centurion office suite.

“Good morning, Mr. Averline!” June says brightly.

“Morning, Ms Apricot.”

“You have a Mr. Stone waiting for you on line 1.”

“What?” Henry knows better than to call me at work, and to expect me in right on time. “I mean, thanks.”

Fortunately, June is new and isn’t aware of the fact that Henry is a vampire. Or my ex-husband. It means I won’t have to answer awkward questions for a change. I hurry to the last office on the right that I share with Chiaki, but right now Calvin, who works the night shift, is still here, just packing up to go home. He looks rough.

“Long night?” I ask.

“You’ll find out at this morning’s brief,” Calvin replies. “I’m outta here.”

Without so much as another word, he grabs his bag and strides out of the office. Interesting. I take a seat at my desk and grab the landline, connecting the call. “I’m assuming this is important if you’re calling me. Here.”

“You said you wanted a look at one of the bodies,” Henry says.

“For fuck’s sake, Henry, not over the phone!” I hiss.

“Can you get to Copp’s Hill?”

“In a bit, yeah.”

“Make it quick, would you?”

I stop fretting over someone listening in when I hear the slight tremor to his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” too long of a pause. “It’s supposed to be sunny by 11 and I don’t have my hat.”

“Alright…I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Time goes by agonizingly slow. I can’t leave until after the morning’s brief, and I spend the morning trying to be productive but end up just looking busy instead. I can’t focus, I need to know what’s going on with Henry and I can’t help feeling it has something to do with Calvin’s haggard departure. Something big went down last night, and I hate not knowing what.

Nine o’clock finally rolls around and I’m the first person in the conference room, waiting for leadership to arrive so I can learn the “what” which has been driving me mad all morning. My leg jitters despite my efforts to keep it still and as my fellow Centurions come in and greet me, I respond with tight smiles and curt ‘hellos’. Chief Glass comes in, followed by Sentinel Sheldon, who rarely joins us unless he absolutely must, who is followed by two Senior Incantatores; Elena and Ulysses.

“You all know we’ve been tracking the werewolf killings,” Chief Glass begins, never one to waste time with idle chatter. “Mr. Sheldon witnessed one of the murders in a vision last night, the culprit was a vampire. Signs have been indicating such, but it was not confirmed until now. The three major covens in Boston claim they have nothing to do with the spreading violence, and insist they have not felt a new vampire enter the region.”

“So, maybe it’s not a vampire then,” I blurt out. I didn’t mean to, but I feel like Sheldon is supposed to pick up the thread where Glass left off and is wasting time waiting for dramatic effect. The Senior Sentinel looks at me then, his icy blue eyes narrowed. His willowy frame and angular face framed with curly brown hair didn’t look intimidating at first glance, but when he wants to be, Joseph Sheldon is terrifying. There is a promise of horrific torment behind his cold eyes if you annoy him enough.

“There are means for vampires to disguise themselves, even from their own kind,” Elena chimes in. “Whether through magic, if they were to buy an enchantment or a powerful glamor charm, or if they had help getting into the city.”

“A Centurion patrol went to the Moliere Coven to ask if they knew anything about a vampire using such methods to get in,” Chief Glass sighs. “Unfortunately, some of Castillo’s younger wolves are becoming impatient. A pair followed the patrol and they heard the Centurions questioning a vampire and took it upon themselves to claim the coven was behind the murders and attacked them.”

“One werewolf was killed in the incident, the other escaped, one of ours was bitten and now the Moliere Coven is in an uproar about us ‘dragging violence to their doorstep’,” Sheldon continues.

“Our best hope is that the coven closes its doors until this is resolved,” Ulysses says. He tugs at the end of his impressive beard, a sure sign he is not confident in that assessment. “Regardless, I think it goes without saying that we need to work harder. The longer this is drawn out, the more blood will be spread.”

“Or drained,” someone mutters.

“Can we expect Castillo to retaliate against us?” Centurion Chiaki asks.

“It’s a possibility we cannot ignore,” Sheldon replies. “However, given that the wolves instigated this attack, Castillo’s hands may be bound in how he can respond.”

“But right now, we’re telling you how we’re going to respond,” Glass says. “Day shift may be called the slow shift, but there’s plenty that needs to be done. We’re dividing you up, some of you are going to be working with the techies on the third floor to intercept communications, the second group is going to keep an eye on the covens. Don’t be careless with that, the vampires may be shut away but their thralls will be watching. The last group will be keeping an eye on Castillo’s strike force, make sure they aren’t planning a city sweep to be done with all of this.”

“Office one is with Tech,” Sheldon says. “Two and Three are on the vampires, Four and Five the werewolves. You’ll be joined by Senior Centurions and Sentinels; we don’t want anyone playing the hero.”

Werewolf duty. I can live with that, although right now all I want to do is find a specific vampire. I really hope Henry isn’t in some kind of trouble. I look at the clock surreptitiously, it’s been almost 45 minutes since I sat down in the conference room.

We’re dismissed after another fifteen minutes, all of us are expected to grab our gear and head to our destinations. I’m feeling the stress already. Copp's Hill isn’t in the direction I need to go. Maybe I can slip away. Chiaki is sort of by the letter, but I think she’d let me go with a good enough excuse. I’m still mulling over possibilities in my head as I leave the conference room, slowing in surprise when I see Billy, wearing his typical Hawaiian shirt with jeans, sandals and, ugh, athletic socks.

“I thought you were on nights,” I say when I reach him.

“I switched so I could help you out. I’m the Sentinel going with you and Chi.”

“Okay, great. I need to ask a favor.”

“We haven’t even made it three feet, kid…”

I let the group of Centurions from the meeting pass, make sure that Chief, Sheldon, and the Incantatores aren’t nearby and lower my voice. “I need to meet Henry. I don’t think he’s okay, he said he may have a body for me. One of the werewolves.”

“It would help to examine one,” Billy says.

“Mhm. But he’s at Copp's Hill Burying Ground. Castillo’s strike force hangs out in Southie.”

“A dilemma, most certainly.”

“I’m going to head to the lockers, but then I need you to…I don’t know, keep Chiaki distracted and I’ll meet you guys over there after I check on Henry.”

“Sure, I’ll risk my job for you. Why not?”

“Probably the same reason I didn’t report you for breaking and entering last night.”

“Touché.”

I leave him to get back on the elevator with some of the others, heading to the basement where our weapons lockers are located. I grab the necessary supplies, for this assignment I go for silver in case things go south in Southie. I shrug on protective gear too, it's top-of-the-line, thin but durable and you’d never know I was wearing it under my shirt. It wouldn’t stop a fully transformed werewolf from biting through it if they really went at it, but I don’t have to worry about that while the sun is up instead of the moon.

We leave the building in small groups from different exits, so we don’t draw suspicion. I should be heading back to Park Street Station, but I head north instead. I’m antsy and my pulse is beating faster than it should. I’m starting to feel cold sweat on my back and my throat is dry as the train makes its way towards my destination.