Treth snorted. He disagreed.
Brett wrapped his arms around me, and I rested my head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat.
“The person who matters most will always be you. We can be heroes. We can save people. But not if it means destroying ourselves. Say the word, and we can end this. We can leave. Leave the Crusaders. Leave Hope City, even. No more Conclave. No more monsters. I love what we have done. What we’re doing. But I love you more than any of that. If this ever needs to end…know that I’ll be right beside you.”
Treth was aghast, as all his altruistic knightly teachings about duty, honour and sacrifice were all shot down by my boyfriend.
But perhaps that’s why I’d fallen in love with Brett and not Treth.
A few tears trickled down my cheeks and I rubbed them away before the kids could see.
“Thank you…now, let’s get back to HQ. If we’re absent for any longer, Jane and Conrad may implement their long-awaited coup d’état. I’m sure Trudie would back them if they have enough snacks.”
Brett snorted in amusement and we got into his van.
“We have a job to do,” I finally said, as Brett pulled off. “Maybe it’s about duty. Maybe it’s about getting paid. Regardless, I’ll pull through.”
“You always do,” Treth and Brett replied in unison.
I rubbed my chin, leaning back in my seat as I contemplated the outbreak earlier today. I still smelled burning flesh. An aroma I had long since gotten used to after acquiring my coat and working with Hammond.
“There’ve been too many outbreaks of late,” I said aloud.
“Jane’s contact in Garden’s PD said that they arrested three wannabe necromancers in the last few weeks,” Brett replied, corroborating my statement.
“Gangsters and edgy teens love necromancy. And there are plenty of both in this damn city. But it’s not an easy discipline. You can’t just buy a textbook on it.”
I rubbed my chin some more. My coat hummed, as if doing its own contemplation.
“Grafscripp is hard to come by,” I continued. “And closely guarded by necromancers. They’re a jealous lot. People who want to share aren’t prone to raising armies of mindless servants. But with this many necromancers on the loose, and this many outbreaks…I can’t help but think there may be someone proliferating necromantic texts.”
“The Conclave?” Brett suggested.
I smiled. Brett was jumping on my conspiracy bandwagon. Great!
“Bingo. But I can’t really be sure. I’ll have to ask Candace when I see her…”
But it was uncertain when that would be. I could contact her by other means, all of which were dangerous. I reserved those for emergencies.
Even so, I focused my senses on Candace’s eye in my socket, and the soul-link that it allowed.
Candace had sand between her toes. She was warm. Content. But underneath that, there was still a sense of pain and angst.
My soul-sister always felt that way. Even during the joy of Christmas lunch, where she joined my family and me, there was still a darkness underneath the surface.
I didn’t know if there was anything that could remove that scar. But, at least I could be thankful that she was safe. For now.
Chapter 3.
Agenda
We promptly arrived back at the Crusader HQ, nestled in the suburbs of Hope City and opposite one of the city’s most important institutions – the Gravekeeper Tavern. The once seedy pub was still seedy, but now that its clientele was primarily made up of off-duty monster hunters, it was now both seedy and monster free.
The Crusader HQ used to be a bank and then a restaurant. Both showed themselves in its design. The bottom floor had a kitchen (converted into a lab), freezer (used to store monster corpses) and a sitting area, which had become a meeting area for hunters comparing kills and awaiting their next jobs. The second floor had more of the obvious banking paraphernalia - a vault which we had converted into an armoury, a surveillance room (now the domain of our tech-wizard, Pranish), and many offices. One of those offices was still the residence of Brett and me. Months back, a rampaging cyclops had destroyed my home. The owner of the house, my mentor, Cindy, had moved in with Brett’s best friend, Guy. As such, Brett and I had found new accommodation. That accommodation, for now, had been the CEO office of the Crusader HQ. As we were ultimately nocturnal creatures, we didn’t really care where we laid our heads at night. But, recently, the HQ had become busier and busier.
It was about time that Brett and I moved on and at least start to pretend that we were adults.
Right on cue, as Brett and I entered the HQ, Brett was mobbed by three recruits and two inducted Crusaders. Guy Mgebe led them.
“Garkain pinned in a warehouse on Adderley,” Guy explained, unflinchingly professional. But I was getting better at reading Guy’s subtext.
What he actually had said was:
“There’s a damn blood-sucking bastard in our city and we best show these younglings how to put it down.”
Brett looked at me for assent.
“I’m not your keeper,” I replied, with a sigh. “Have fun!”
He gave me a mocking salute and sprinted off with Guy, Henri the Sniper and the three Crusader hopefuls.
I was certain that Brett did enjoy spending time with me. One would hope so, and I was confident enough to believe that our relationship was going well. But Brett was still a guy. And guys needed guy time. In this case, with a friend named Guy. My boyfriend and his best friend had bonded over a mutual hatred of vampires. Both had lost family, friends and even communities to the blood-sucking monsters of post-Cataclysmic Earth, and both of them had built a career around slaying them. But, even if they weren’t paid, I had a feeling that both Brett and Guy would have found a way to continue their slaughter of vampire-kind. I couldn’t blame them. I had done whatever I could to rid the world of the undead. Even if my relationship with the necromancer whose eye I shared had tempered that hateful passion, I was still dedicated to my crusade.
Brett and co had left, but I was far from alone. It had only been a few months since the Crusaders started its expansion, yet the HQ already felt like a veteran monster hunting agency. Hunters were constantly entering and exiting the building. Some stopped to salute. Some were new and didn’t know that I didn’t think highly of militaristic rituals. It stroked Treth’s ego too much. Which it shouldn’t. As they were saluting me, not him.
I proceeded down the entry hallway towards the stairway. Perhaps, I’d drop into the mosh pit to check in with the recruits. But I doubted there’d be too many there today. The mosh pit was, effectively, a large waiting room. Hunters watched their phones and communal TV screens waiting for hunts to come up. There, they formed squads and went out to slay some monsters when a job came in. But, with all the bustle in the hallway, I doubted there’d be many hunters idle. I’d glanced at the MonsterSlayer App to see what people were up to while Brett drove, and it seemed to be a busy workday. But not busy enough that I could be afforded the opportunity to go and slay some monsters myself.
No, no. These petty monster attacks were much too unimportant for the likes of the Last Light herself. I was the commander! I had an organisation to run, influential officials to meet, and strategies to implement. Only when there was a real crisis could I don my flaming cloak and feed Ithalen some blood and broken bones.