“Maurice's secret life can be understood now; it was part brutal, part ideal, like his dreams

“Maurice's secret life can be understood now; it was part brutal, part ideal, like his dreams.”

Maurice by E.M. Foster.

Chapter Twelve:

A Client

Long ago, Heather Maloney had sworn to herself that she would never risk her life for another creature and for much of said life she had been faithful to that law. Now however, she was radically breaking it and for the most unlikely of people--a cursing, chain-smoking, booze-guzzling, bar-fighting vampire--by stepping in front of Caltoni’s gun. It was irrational; that gun, unless it mysteriously manifested silver bullets, would do more damage to her than it would to Lucas. But there had been no thinking, no time for thought; she had simply acted on instinct—an instinct to protect Lucas.

It was an instinct that proved rather overdramatic once she realized that Caltoni had no intention of shooting Lucas—and was in fact aiming for Mace, who was lurking over Lucas’ shoulder.

Instantly, Lucas was on the offensive, sweeping Heather behind him and baring his teeth in warning. Mace backed off to some extent and Heather shot a glance towards Caltoni, whose gun was wilting in fear. This was not a pretty picture; something had to be done. Risking life and limb, Heather stepped between Mace and Lucas to attempt to defuse the fire, but was shocked to suddenly feel Lucas’ arms snaking around her waist and pulling her upwards.

“Put me down!” She demanded, flailing uselessly in her captor’s supernaturally strong grip.

“Stop trying to get yourself killed and I will!” Lucas snapped, tightening his arms around her. Even through the material of his shirt, she could feel the coolness of his skin, though she noted he was not as cold as other vampires were. It was surprisingly nice.

Annoyed as a blush burned in her cheeks, she squirmed more, leaving Mace and Caltoni and random on-lookers to observe the scene. “I wasn’t trying to get myself killed; I was trying to be the mediator. And I am not a damsel in distress and I am in fact stronger than you which was the whole point of me standing in front of you to protect to you so I would very much appreciate it if you put me down, thank you,” she spat, nearly out of breath.

At that, Lucas did set her down though his turquoise eyes, bright with fervor and reflecting sunlight in his long eyelashes, never left her face. “What?” He whispered.

“N-nothing; it was nothing,” Heather said, spinning away to speak to Caltoni and leaving Lucas staring after her. “Hello, Michael,” she addressed the human detective once she was standing in front of him. She was hoping that her voice had returned to its normal even tone, but she had no such luck. Clearing her throat she tried again, “Can I help you?”

“You could tell me what the fuck just happened,” he suggested coolly.

Heather awkwardly said, “Ah, well, ahem. Lucas is my servant and it is my duty—well, more his duty—it is our duty to protect each other and—“

“I don’t mean that; I don’t care about you and your sex slave. I meant—“

“My what?!” Heather yelled. Behind her, she could hear Lucas chuckling. “How dare you suggest such a thing you sick minded bastard!” She was just about to strangle Michael much in the manner that Lucas had done to Mace when she realized she was threatening a cop in public. There were times when Heather was astounded by her own brilliance—and then there were moments like these when she remembered that she wasn’t so bright after all. “Excuse me,” she corrected. “That was—highly inappropriate of me. I am sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael muttered. It was clear he feared for his life, which was in no way good. There had to be a way for her to smooth this over.

“Please, this is all a horribly complicated misunderstanding, you must believe me,” Heather said softly, eyes burning into his. “I would like very much if we could resolve this—all four of us,” she added, turning to a shocked Mace. “Is that agreeable to everyone?” They agreed, perhaps out of fear, but it was agreement nonetheless. “Good. Would you follow me back to my office?” Again, they all nodded, though Mace was notably unenthusiastic, and Heather took the lead, satisfied and relieved for now.

The moment Heather had disentangled herself from the detective and put distance between herself and Mace, Lucas was at her side. Swallowing a knot of anxiety twisted in her throat, she faced him and noticed he was looking at her in a way that he never had before. It was very soft, gentle, as if he were admiring a beloved goddess. Flustered and perplexed, Heather turned away but still he stayed by her side. He always had.

“I have to talk to you,” Lucas finally said in a low voice that made her shiver.

“Isn’t that what we’re going to do? Talk?” She asked, but it was barely a question. Her voice was firm and there was no room for error.

Lucas’ shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “Yeah, we are.” With that, he fell behind her and within a few seconds he was bickering with Mace. Though she appeared calm on the outside, Heather was much too exposed for her comfort and even worse, there was no way she could hide this time. Somehow, Lucas always had this way of mercilessly picking her apart without any regard for her carefully crafted safety net. She hated it and hated him—and she hated herself, too, for wanting to let him in so badly. At the moment it seemed everything was back to normal—but it wasn’t, nor would it ever be again.

...0

“Well, this is awkward,” Lucas commented dryly. Heather, Mace, and himself were settled into the conference room of SIU’s main floor. Michael, the human detective that clawed at Heather’s feet, was temporarily locked in the morgue. Bright sunlight poured into the office through the open windows as tension crackled like humid summer lightening. While Lucas was perched languidly against the wall of the office, Heather and Mace sat across the cherry wood table glaring bloody, rusty daggers at each other.

“You could have gotten us all killed—or worse,” Heather suddenly growled in a low, lethal tone.

“Oh, shut up, you arrogant bitch,” Mace retorted in a flow of lazy anger.

Lucas sighed. “This is so very productive,” he muttered.

Spinning in her chair, Heather shot her servant an icy glare. “He’s your underling, Lucas; you should reprimand him.”

From his place, Mace snorted. “Oh, no—she doesn’t have that dominating witch mentality at all.”

“There is a very big difference between respecting a system of authority and supporting a slave industry, you overgrown, spoiled brat,” Heather snapped, her top lip wrinkling in anger.

“Enough, children; you’re giving Daddy a headache.” Sensing that peace was lurking on the far too distant horizon, Lucas weaved past the business furniture and made his way to the window. Ignoring Heather’s sigh of disapproval, he slipped a cigarette between his lips and lit it with relief. Lucas took a moment of personal time before he addressed his companions. “All right, let’s look at this rationally.” His words were met with twin looks of mutual disbelief. “What?”

“I didn’t know you were even capable of rational thinking,” Heather mumbled, her face blank with surprise.

“As much as it causes me near physical pain to say this, I’m gonna have to agree with the witch,” Mace said.

Lucas narrowed his eyes at them through a veil of pale blue smoke. “Just because it’s a path I rarely choose doesn’t mean it’s one I can’t walk,” he told them.

“Aye, aye, Mr. Miyagi-sensei,” Mace replied, clasping his hands together as he mock-bowed to Lucas.

“Anyways,” Lucas stressed impatiently. “Our current situation is not desirable in any way. It’s a big, gray, complicated mess and we’re all gonna have shit on our hands after it’s over. So, the question is how we’re going to escape this as cleanly as possible.”

“Purchase our combined weight in sanitizer?” Mace suggested.

“Hilarious,” Heather muttered.

“Both of you, stop it,” Lucas interrupted. “We’re not going to get anywhere taking snipes at each other. Well, not really ‘we’ considering that you two are the only ones slinging mud around. God, it’s a sad day when I’m the mature one in the situation.”

“Must be a blue moon,” Mace commented.

“Or the apocalypse,” Heather added.

“The point,” Lucas cut in in a strained tone. “is that, in a way, you’re both right. Heather is right in claiming that the protest was dangerous to Magickind’s standing in the modern world, but the vampires—along with all people—have the Fate-given right to defend themselves. Mace and the other vampires are entitled to fight back against the witches, but it’s wrong to take it out one of the few witches that’s on your side. Can we agree on that?”

After a long silence, the witch and the vampire solemnly replied, “Yes.”

Some of the tightness in Lucas’ shoulders eased at their combined agreement. “Good. That’s a start.” Stubbing his cigarette on the windowsill, Lucas turned to face his significantly mellower cohorts.

“Wow, Lucas. You’re a big boy Sovereign now,” Mace remarked with a pronounced smirk. “I’m so proud.” He raised a finger to brush away an imaginary tear, making Lucas smile reluctantly.

Heather rolled her eyes at his antics. “So, now that nobody appears to be overly homicidal anymore, what do we do?”

Lucas sighed. Truthfully, he hadn’t gotten that far; he had actually anticipated that the bickering would continue for much longer than it had. That’s what he got for looking at the situation from his immature point of view. “I really don’t know,” he admitted. Oh, how he hated being Sovereign.

“Aw, and you were doing so well,” Mace murmured with disappointment.

“I wouldn’t let my tongue so loose if I were you,” Heather said. “You have much to answer for.”

“Like what?” Mace asked, indignant. “You heard Lucas; we had every right to protest.”

“I did say that, but I never said I condoned your methods. Ranting like that in the public eye—in the human eye—was perhaps the stupidest thing imaginable.”

Mace snorted. “Why does it matter how or where we do it? Sooner or later, the humans will reach a point when they’ll be forced to confront us.”

The vampire’s foreboding tone made Lucas’ ribs seize up. “What are you planning?” He demanded.

Mace grinned with malice. “A gentleman does not plot and tell,” he mocked.

“You’re going to end up dead if you take this path,” Heather warned him, her voice empty of emotion but full of threats. “And I’ll be happy to kill you myself.”

“Heather!” Lucas snapped, eyes wide with horror.

“I’d love to see you try it,” Mace goaded her, rising from his chair. “I’d love to be the one to rip your ruby royal heart out.” Beneath his lips, the tips of his fangs glistened in the fluorescent lights.

Pressing himself off the wall, Lucas stepped between the warriors, grinding a palm in each other’s shoulders to hold them in place. “Take it easy, guys. Need for violence.”

“You’re so naïve,” Mace hissed with disgust. He wriggled out from Lucas’ guiding hand and walked out the door. The click of the lock was a blow of failure to Lucas’ heart. Sighing, he relaxed his grip on Heather but didn’t remove his hand; if he let her go, the world would fall away.

The warmth of Heather’s hand above his own stony fingers made him melt and relax against his will. “It’s not your fault,” she comforted him in a gentle tone completely alien to his memory of her.

“I don’t understand,” Lucas said. His words sounded foolish and futile compared to the weight of his heavy heart. “I don’t understand such blind hatred; how you can loathe something you don’t even know. After three billion years it’s the one thing that still escapes me.”

“That’s because you’re a good man,” Heather said softly. Before Lucas had a chance to argue her statement, she shocked him by rising on her toes to lightly caress his cheek with her lips.

Her touch was filled with heat and fire burned through his body in places that hadn’t felt warmth in ages. After centuries of aimless seduction, Lucas had thought it impossible for a woman to affect him so strongly. He had been severely mistaken, he realized with chagrin as his body shifted. Thankfully, Heather pulled away before she could feel the change.

They stared at each other for a moment, both stunned and unsure of the next move until Heather cleared her throat. “I should take care of Michael,” she said and Lucas recalled the human trapped in her office.

“That’s probably best. Can’t look too good to keep a human locked in a Magickal morgue,” Lucas replied with black humor.

Heather laughed. “You’re quite right.” She stepped towards the door and pulled it open in a fashion much smoother than the first departure had. “I’ll be back,” she told him as she slipped out of the office.

When Heather left she had taken the fever she inflicted upon him with her, leaving him calmer, but still aching for her. A little staggered, he himself left the office to return to his desk. Perhaps he could distract himself with her paperwork.

As he latched onto the doorknob of his shared workspace, he realized something: he had lied before when he claimed that hatred was the one thing he didn’t comprehend. In fact, there were actually many things he failed to understand. But the one that stood out the most—the one that was even more puzzling to him than hatred—was love. And he suddenly realized that he had instead claimed hatred as the first because he was starting to understand love quite clearly. Feeling much too emotional for his comfort, Lucas stepped into the office and was startled to see another being standing in the room, lingering in front of his desk.

S he was a Witch; the smell of Magick gave that clearly. But the serenity of her of aura meant that she was here on what seemed to friendly intention. Tall and covered in creamy pale skin, the sandy brunette was very beautiful and also unfamiliar. And yet something about her—whether it was the curve of her jaw or the cut of her eyes—was very familiar to him. The woman gave him a wide, bright grin as Lucas closed the door and approached her. “Looking for someone?” Lucas asked casually.

“I’m looking for Doctor Vianelca,” she stated in a voice thickly accented—Irish, he suspected.

“And you’ve found him,” Lucas told her with a smile. “So, what can I do for you? I’m afraid I’m not taking any new patients at the moment, but I’ll do my best to help you.”

“That’s perfectly all right; I’m not looking for a shrink—though I probably could use one,” she admitted with a sheepish grin. “I actually wanted to ask a favor of you.”

“A favor? For a stranger? I didn’t know I was so generous in my old age,” he said tartly. No need to be polite now that he knew she wasn’t going to pay him.

“Well, I suppose ‘favor’ isn’t really the right word, considering it’s something you’re already doing.”

“What do you want?”

“For you to protect someone.”

“Who?” Somehow, he suspected he knew where this was going.

“Heather, of course. Who else would you risk your life for?”

This struck a nerve in Lucas; he would gladly risk himself for anyone who needed him. “Who are you?”

The woman extended a pale, well-manicured hand. “My name is Ariana Maloney,” she said sweetly. Before Lucas could reply, she added, “So this is the vampire who pines so Shakespearean for my little sister?”