Cabal grabbed his pack out of the back seat of his Mandalay, striding across the sand between his car and the entrance to the dome. It had been three years since he was last in the area. By his calculations, Miranda should be twenty-two already.

John was already waiting for him; leaned in a non-chalant way that told Cabal he got some heads up to the arrival.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!”

“Do you even know what a cat is?”

John’s features turned introspective.

“I thought not.”

“What brings you back to this neck of the woods?”

“Down time. I must be getting old, the trail is getting weary.”

“No luck on your quest, huh?”

Cabal shook his head as he came even with the human.

“Well, come inside,” John sighed.

“Thanks.”

He trailed behind the man, thankful once again for the cool interior of the dome – the cozy and welcoming way in which the low light and the fire greeted any and all who visited here. He stepped across the interior without bidding, setting his pack down next to the well worn couch that occupied the “living room.” He didn’t sit immediately, watching John, who was watching him.

“So, how’s your supply holding out?”

Cabal shrugged, grimacing as he replied, “I had a few bouts of accelerated need. I’m not doing badly, but I will probably restock again anyway.”

“Take as much as you need.”

“Heh. ‘As much as I need’ will not fit in my vehicle. But I will take as much as will fit.”

“There’s plenty down there. I’ve stepped up production, increased the inventory with your need in mind.”

Cabal smiled. “I appreciate that, John.”

“It’s not like I don’t have the storage space here.”

That comment drew a laugh out of the dhampir.

“Would you like something to drink? Eat perhaps?”

“I’d be fine with a glass of water. But I know where it is…”

“Sit down; I’m closer to the kitchen.”

Cabal was reluctant to be waited on like a guest…and he had to remind himself – even though he was familiar with this place, the infrequency of his visits did put him in guest status. He nodded when a moment later John brought over a tall clear glass brimming with liquid.

“Thanks again.”

This time he did sit, taking a swallow of the water before setting it on the coffee table. He unzipped his boots, sliding them and his socks off and setting them both next to the backpack.

John’s smile was sardonic. “Make yourself at home.”

The dhampir was equally as smart as he answered, “Thanks, I will.”

John took a seat on the chair that stood perpendicular to the sofa. “So what brings you out this way – I mean really.”

“I heard rumors.” He leaned forward, his expression turning serious.

“About?”

“A resurgence of raider activity in this area.”

“Where were you when you got wind of that?”

“Baja.”

“You weren’t on a hot tip at the time, I hope.”

“What if I was?”

“Cabal, we can defend ourselves here. You’ve got your own business to take care of.”

Cabal shrugged. “The trail will be just as cold in two weeks as it was yesterday. After five hundred some odd years, I’ll be lucky to lay a fingernail on Renate’s trace again. Besides, Miranda’s and your well being are my business too. Several other large operations in three territories have been decimated by these guys. We’re not talking about some small unorganized band of people. What I hear – this group borders on army.”

“They’d have to find the place first.”

“That is a very small and quite vain look on it.”

“We’ll be fine,” John drew a breath and stood again, “but welcome anyway. You’re room is as it was when you left. After all, we’re not your maids.”

Cabal had left in a hurry the last time he was here, and though normally a courteous houseguest, he had no time then to pick up the room and strip the sheets to be washed.

“That will give me something to do until dinner then.”

Before he was able to stand and retire to the lower levels, Miranda appeared. He wanted to say she came from the section he was headed, but it was never a certain thing with her, she stalked around this place like an apparition. She might have just stepped out of the kitchen. She sauntered into the room, her face blank of expression. She shook her hair free of her face, long brunette strands that merely fell back into her line of vision again. The rest of it fell easily to her waist, though she had braided two small lengths just above her ears. Those were pinned back in a vain effort to keep the rest out of the way.

Though her face was empty of emotion, Cabal caught something behind her eyes. The emotion was one he was unable to identify. He told himself he needed to look away, failing utterly as his gaze soaked in the sight of her.

She’d grown again, filling out a great deal when overlaid on his last memory of her. She was in a spaghetti string tank top and a cut off pair of shorts that seemed painted to her hips.

She slanted those as amusement rose into her eyes. “I see the stray found his way home again.”

The comment elicited a laugh out of Cabal. In the past, a comment such as that was meant to needle him. Her tone was different this time, playful and inviting. The dhampir blinked, unused to such…friendliness from her. Well that wasn’t entirely true. Her regard for him had always been a rollercoaster.

The month or so that he spent inside the dome after his introduction to the Arturo family were spent being followed around by a puppyish fifteen year old – and being scowled at by her father. When Miranda was seventeen, she was all bristle, claws and teeth bared for the world to see. Her trauma at the hands of Victor Sierra did nothing to make that “mad at the world” attitude better. Those times she made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. At nineteen, she feigned indifference to his presence, though many times he caught her staring at him – and not in the “I hate you, I wish you would die” way either. That transition – that ambivalence – was transforming into something else.

For the first time, he found her – attractive.

The dhampir forced his roving eyes to wander somewhere else, and made his excuse to move down below. “I need to clean my bed if I am going to sleep here tonight.”

He leaned down to pick up his pack, slung it, and picked up his boots before stalking toward the door heading down.

Miranda stepped toward him as he neared her, or at least that is what he thought he saw. She brushed his jacket with one arm and a breast as he continued on. The response in his body was as instantaneous as it was unexpected. That pulling, yearning sensation was something he thought buried with Lucinda.

He hid his body’s betrayal by turning his head down and slipping through the isolating door. Quickening his pace, Cabal continued until he was at the room that had been designated his.

He busied himself with stripping the bed, straightening the mess he left behind on his previous visit. When he was satisfied with the room, he gathered his laundry from his pack, added it to the linens, and headed for the laundering area. On the way he stopped and showered, changing into something clean, and adding his dust and sweat laden clothing to the growing pile outside the bathroom door. He took extra time to gather, comb, and braid his hair while it was still damp and manageable.

He opened the door and was leaning down to gather the pile he left there, only to find that Miranda beat him to it. She was leaned over, gathering the load into her arms. The angle of her work and the way she was pressing the tangle of clothes to her, pushed her breasts up and made the view of her cleavage prominent.

Cabal could only step back. “You don’t have to do that.”

She almost sounded like the Miranda he knew when she said, “I nearly killed myself on them. Someone has to get them out of the hallway.”

He reached out to grab them from her. “I’m not a guest here; you don’t have to wait on me.”

His attempt to reclaim his duty brought her into closer proximity and he picked up the hint of jasmine in her hair. A second later he realized the back of one hand was pressed against one of her breasts. It wasn’t visible through the gathered garments and linens, but he’d felt enough of them to understand that the suppleness against his hand could be no other body part. An odd smile was on Miranda’s face, seeming to realize at the same moment where his hand was. The gleam in her eyes wasn’t anger. He let go about the same point she did and the pile littered the floor once more.

The act was so comic that they found that they were both laughing at it.

“Sorry,” Cabal said. Cautiously he picked up the load and skirted around her. There was that strange unreadable expression on her face again, one that something in him responded to readily. He tamped down on the feeling, telling himself that the emotion was long since dead, and need not be resurrected now.

“You missed one,” Miranda called at his back, and he turned to see her dangling his boxers.

“Jeezu!” Cabal spun and leapt in the same moment, snatching the pair of shorts from her hand. He managed to keep from dropping the rest of the heap in his arms to the floor in an effort to save himself the embarrassment. He departed, shaking his head and bundling the item of contention tighter into the bottom of the load.

******

Despite John’s assurances that everything was going to be fine, Cabal was still edgy. He’d come across the aftermath of several of the raids these bandits were pulling on his way here. They looked like war zones, and if anyone survived it didn’t show by the blackened sand and gutted hovels that had been peoples’ homes. Every day Cabal found himself in the monitoring station one level down from the living space, staring for hours at the sonic and radar and holograms of the topography surrounding the station looking for the telltale. He was expecting the massing of a misfit army bent on plundering his friend’s house.

The thought occurred to him that he would be unable to do a whole lot; as good as he was, as fast and well trained as he might be – he was still only one. What that would do against a horde of even semi-trained men, he wasn’t sure. Cabal refused to let such an idea keep him from doing what he could to keep John and Miranda safe from them.

“Still with the vigil?” John came alongside him.

“I don’t believe that you will just continue to get lucky out here, John.”

John coughed into his fist. “They’re not coming, Cabal. You’re being paranoid.”

“Better paranoid than dead.” Cabal retorted.

“Suppose so.” John cleared his throat, and once again coughed.

“Are you all right?”

He nodded. “Seem to be coming down with a cold. I’ll be fine.”

Cabal smiled. “Of all the things the holocaust killed you would think that viruses would have gone along with them.”

“If only.”

The cough was more violent this time, and John pulled out a handkerchief wiping his nose and mouth with it.

“You sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’ll take some antihistamine when I head down. Be glad you don’t succumb to crap like this.”

“Trust me I am. I’ve got enough issues already.”

“Hmph.”

“So, what’s up with Miranda?” Cabal made himself keep his gaze on the instruments, as if it was an off-handed observation.

Out of her peripheral he saw, John cock an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t seen…I mean.” Cabal found himself flustered, and wished that he hadn’t brought the subject up at all.

The human tilted his head a little.

“She’s been acting weird.”

“Not that she tells me anything,” John said, smiling like a cat that ate a canary, “but I think she’s infatuated with you.”

“That woman needs to make up her mind.” Cabal sighed. “First the Nightengale thing, and then daggers anytime I’m in the room, and now this!”

John was having fun at his expense. It didn’t stop the heat in his ears.

“You’re much too old for her.”

“I’m too old for all the women I know.”

“Uh huh.”

“‘Uh huh’ what?”

John shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Damn it, John, don’t tease me. What?”

John didn’t answer, turning away and waving over his shoulder as he once again took leave of the dhampir.

Cabal knew what the tease was about. Damn it, he didn’t think he was that transparent. He must have given himself away up on ground level, when Miranda first made an appearance.

You’re not falling for her.

It was an order, and he felt that part of him that never wanted to be hurt again shoring up the defenses – walling off the feelings he was beginning to have for the daughter of his human friend. He didn’t want to suffer that again. Lucinda was enough, more than enough for him to bear.

Cabal stared at the screen for a few more moments, before he set the controls back on automatic warning, and also left the surveillance room.

Three days later the blip happened, the army popping up on the long range surveillance. But it was not the worst case scenario that Cabal was envisioning. Instead of sweeping over the hilly area in which the dome was hidden, the horde swung wide north and up toward the upper territories and into Canada.

For two weeks the dhampir refused to believe that they wouldn’t realize their mistake and turn back. When all long range surveillance reported they were out of the area, Cabal had to admit that they were truly gone and no longer a threat.

That entire time John’s cold plagued the man. The virus – running its course as every virus does – hit a plateau about the second week Cabal was there. John swore he was over the worst of it and getting better.

Taking that at face value, Cabal packed his things and took his leave of the two, headed for a rumor of a rogue vampire moving through what used to be Washington State.

The dhampir was only three days out from the Dome, heading nearer the Russian end of Alaska, when an emergency distress cut through the soft music he was listening to. Brow furrowing, Cabal punched access into the keypad, wondering what might be so important that John would page him so shortly after leaving. They were lucky in any matter that he was still within range. Another day out and the only way to get a hold of him would be through V-mail.

“John?”

“Cabal!” The voice wasn’t John’s and it was more than a little frantic.

“Miranda?” Now he was confused and dread followed on the heels of that emotion. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Dad!” she cried. Her voice shot high with fear. “He got worse! He’s throwing up, convulsing…I’ve tried everything he’s taught me for this sort of thing. None of it is helping. I’m afraid…he’s dying!”

“What?”

“I can’t try the rover to get him to town! He’s too weak to move.”

“Miranda…I…” He swallowed. “I’ll come as fast as I can…best bet, I can be there in twenty-four hours.”

He heard the sob she tried to hide from the mic.

“I’m sorry, it’s the best I can do. I’m turning around now.”

“Hurry…God, Cabal, please hurry! I’m frightened.”

“Tell John he’s not allowed to die on me.”

The laugh was weak through her tears. “Sure.”

He pushed his hover car as hard as he thought he could get away with without turning into a man-made meteor. He bested his own estimate by four hours. Not bothering to be stealthy, he VTOL’d the vehicle directly in front of the door. Jumping out before the gull wing had completely opened, and not bothering to shut it again, Cabal slid across the hood and landed in the sunken landing before the door. He was about to open it, when it opened of its own accord.

His gut fell out completely as the expression and condition of Miranda’s face registered.

“No,” he whispered.

Her bleary face, blotchy expression, and glassy eyes were a slap in his face. The expression got uglier still as she broke down, falling into his arms and sobbing into the leather of his jacket.

“Oh God, Miranda…”

“He…he…” she couldn’t even finish what she was trying to say, choking on tears.

“I’m so sorry.”

Her fist hit his chest on the opposite side of her face, her hand opening and then closing with a section of his jacket strangled in it.

“Why!” she shrieked. Her body tensed and quivered against him. She arched her back as another sob shook her hard.

Pulling her tight into his arms, he murmured, “I have no explanation for the inequities of life.”

“It’s not fair!”

“No, no it’s not.”

She fell silent, unable to vocalize as the tears came harder, the sobs choking any words until they were unintelligible. Cabal stood stone still and allowed the display of emotion. The reaction to death was one he knew too well for his own liking.

“He…he wanted to see you…” she managed in broken, sob-soaked words.

“I wanted to be here. I tried…”

“I know,” she breathed.

“C’mon…let’s get inside,” he spoke softly. When she would not walk on her own he gathered her into his arms and carried her to the sofa, seating himself without trying to peel Miranda off of him.

They sat in silence, Cabal hiding his own tears in the dark hair of the young woman who still clung to him as if her life depended on it. Miranda cried until she was slack in his arms, and he gently laid her down onto the couch. Looking back only once to ensure that she was soundly sleeping, Cabal headed down for the infirmary.

Cabal expected to see a mess. As much of a wreck as Miranda had been at the door, he expected that she was unable to handle the death from the get go. As he stepped in, he noted that the place was clean, John’s body lying flat and even hidden by a sheet.

What a wonderful thing shock was, she probably didn’t even remember doing all this.

With shaking hands, Cabal pulled the cover back, expecting to see a rictus of agony. Once more, he was surprised to see that John’s face – though lined – was peaceful.

“Damn it, John,” Cabal uttered, unable to help feeling betrayed. He had wanted to comfort John in his last hours. That his friend died before he could – burned him to his soul. They hadn’t known each other all that long, but he was one of only a few friends in this era.

Cabal wondered what kind of virus felled such a healthy and energetic soul as John Arturo.

The dhampir perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the slowly graying skin. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you and Miranda, John. I hope you’ll forgive my oversight. I had means by which to know if you were going to be all right. I didn’t employ them.”

No answer came from the corpse, even though some small part of him hoped that this was a nightmare, a dream that he would soon wake from. He expected John to jump up from the bed – expected the man to be razzing him for the next three days about how gullible he was.

“I’ll stay for a while,” he said next. “I’ll make sure she stays safe. I owe you that much. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

He stood again, peering down into that lifeless face. Cabal knew he couldn’t leave the body here. Miranda was in no shape to ensure that John’s remains got cared for. Feeling as if he was desecrating the corpse somehow, Cabal wrapped John tightly in the sheet. Turning toward a bank of lockers meant to keep the dead sanitary until they were prepared for burial and opening one, Cabal returned to the gurney.

Respectfully he lifted John and as gracefully placed his body onto the slab pulled from the refrigerator. Crossing himself and silently praying, Cabal slid the tray back in and sealed the door. He took one step back before his legs gave, and he fell to the floor, sliding himself back until he was leaning against the gurney base.

He shook his head, denial welling up as he sat rigid against the bed. He rubbed one hand across his mouth, a metallic flavor washing his tongue until he thought he was going to vomit.

Cabal never felt this way taking a life, never thought twice about what he was doing. The difference seemed to be that death’s visited upon those he cared about – had come to like, evoked emotions that his day to day killings never did.

He was unsure how long he sat there, but the thought of Miranda waking up alone goaded him to rise. Taking his feet, he trudged back up the three floors to the living area. He hoped she was still resting. Thinking about her and sleep reminded him that he was now forty hours straight without slumber.

By the time his exhaustion tried to knock him down, he made it to the landing. Cabal paused inside the door, his mood conforming to the darkness that filled the space. He wanted to snuff the fireplace as well; throw the room into pitch. It would comfort him…but he knew that it would only freak Miranda out more.

The dhampir moved to the couch, watching Miranda sleep for long moments. He lowered himself down next to her, levering her body up with gentle hands. Scooting into the opened space, Cabal swung his legs onto the cushions, filling a space around Miranda’s legs and lay back on the couch. When he was comfortable he lowered her back down on his chest. He was surprised when she snuggled into him, her fingers once more laced into the material of his clothing.

“Don’t go…” she murmured, tears still littering her sleepy voice.

Though Cabal was sure she was talking in her sleep, he answered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He propped his chin on her crown, sighing wearily as he slid down into slumber.

A/N: While not my newest addition to this section of the tale it is one of my favorites - despite the sad turn the story takes at the end here. The idea of Cabal being flustered by Miranda's apparent attraction to him is eminently funny on many levels to me. Having him be so transparent about his sudden interest in her is even funnier....

NEXT UP: Aftermath

Miranda wakes up the following day in a very strange predicament....in Cabal's arms - something she'd longed for, but never expected. Then she remembers what happened the day prior...

Though she knows it's only because of her father's death, she is grateful for Cabal's offer to stick around and ensure that things transition smoothly...