Chapter 12

The park was eerie in the dark. The hulking jungle gym sat like a crouched monster waiting to spring, and the swing set's long shadows were tendrils of evil that snaked toward Patrick and Michael as they leaned on the teeter-totter.

The snow slowed, then stopped. Patrick scuffled his feet in the drifts and counted off the seconds. How long would it take a vampire to find them?

And why in the hell do we want him to?

Michael's shoulders went stiff and Patrick followed his gaze. At first, he saw only darkness, then, like last time, the guy materialized from the shadows.

"You're looking for me?"

Michael narrowed his eyes. "You're the mind reader, you tell me."

Without hesitation, the vampire asked sharply, "Why should I help you?"

Michael grabbed his brother's arm. "Come on, Pat. I told you this was a fuckin' waste of time."

Before they could move, the mysterious man replied, "I didn't say I wouldn't help, only asked why I should."

Patrick nodded hopefully. If the vampires were half as terrifying as this guy, there was no way they could deal with them alone. They needed someone who could help them and, though he couldn't say why, he was sure this was the guy for the job. Maybe because he scares the shit outta me. "Hang on, Mikey. Let's give him a chance."

Michael glared at the vampire. "Why? We don't even know who he is!"

The man all but rolled his eyes. "My name is Jorick. What do you want from me?"

Patrick answered quickly, "He needs help to get away from Claudius."

Jorick studied them. The moments stretched thin and taut, heavy with the oppressive winter atmosphere. Finally, he said, "Let me speak to my associate. We might be able to do something. Return here in five days."

Then he disappeared.

***

Saturday, January 13th

In the following days, Patrick spent the last of his check on booze and food. He hauled the bags home, imaginary eyes on him the whole time. His heart pounded as he locked the door. Safe inside, he refused to leave again. Churo came over with DVDs, pizza, and some fun in a Ziploc bag. Mixed with whisky and half a bottle of Grenadine, Patrick almost forgot about the looming meeting.

When he sobered up, the memory returned. Anthony tried to tempt him out of the house, but he didn't feel like going. Even the gossip didn't interest him. Twila and her roommate were fighting. A kid they'd gone to school with got arrested for meth. Mark was bragging all over town about being a dad. It was the same old bullshit.

The next Saturday found Patrick at the park, huddled in his leather jacket. Michael paced nearby, a field of cigarette butts strewn between them as Michael worked on another.

"You're sure this is a good idea?"

"It's as good as any," Patrick muttered.

It's all a bad idea. A crazy, bad idea. But what else was there? They needed to get this settled before he lost his mind.

Patrick felt the shift in the air, like an out of season thunderstorm approaching. The hair stood up on the back of his neck, then Jorick appeared with a second man. The newcomer was shorter than Jorick, but his shoulders were broader. Dressed in trousers and a button up shirt, he had a ponytail of tawny hair that made Patrick think of a lion. It wasn't just the hair; there was something feline about him, though whether it was his face or his movements, Patrick wasn't sure.

The pair came to a stop in front of the brothers. The tension thickened as the four sized up one another. Finally, Jorick spoke, "This is Oren." He gestured to the brothers. "Patrick and Michael."

Oren nodded. "You're members of Claudius' coven?"

"No," Michael said. "I am. Pat's not."

Oren frowned. "Then what does he have to do with this?"

"It's his brother," Jorick answered.

Patrick shivered. How did he know? Oren turned to him and met his eyes. It was the same as it had been with Jorick; as if the guy was looking straight into his brain.

It ended abruptly and Oren looked back to Michael. "Do you know who I am?"

"Should I?"

Jorick cocked an eyebrow. "One would assume you'd know who you were dealing with before you asked for help. Whether you're aware or not, Oren's coven is at war with Claudius."

Coven. Did that mean Oren was a vampire?

Understanding flickered over Michael's face. "You're the guy he's been fighting forever?"

"Not forever," Oren bit back.

"It's been ongoing for some time," Jorick countered, then dismissed it with a gesture. "I've spoken with Oren and we're willing to help youfor a price." Michael started and Jorick held up a hand. "It's only fair. If you want us to do something for you, you should do something for us."

The logic felt sound, so Patrick nodded eagerly. Michael was still sour. "Like what?"

"Spy," Jorick said flatly.

Oren bristled. "I wouldn't call it spying. Information gathering."

"For how long?" Michael demanded.

Jorick rubbed his chin. "A few months, perhaps? That should be enough time for Oren to wrap this up." His dark eyes slid sideways to his friend, then back again. "After which time he will offer you sanctuaryboth of you, if necessary."

Patrick blinked. "Me? Oh, I'll be all right. They're not after me."

"Not yet," Oren said. "But I wouldn't rule it out."

Michael scowled. "I was hoping to get away from them now."

Oren started to answer, but Jorick silenced him. "It's up to you. Leave now, on your own, and deal with the consequences, or wait a few months and have the guarantee of protection."

"If I don't agree, then who will you get to spy?" Michael asked smugly.

Jorick shrugged. "Someone else. Claudius has an extensive coven. If we decide we need a spy, we'll recruit one. You can always fall back on your original plan." He glanced at Patrick. "I'm sure you can eventually wear your brother down and he'll agree to storm the basement. Of course, it's sunlight that's the vampire's enemy, not daytime, so once he's down in the dark cellar it won't seem like a good idea anymore. Maybe he'll get lucky and actually kill a couple before they rip his head off."

Cold terror filtered through Patrick and settled in his stomach. He could almost smell the damp dark basement; feel the blood pounding in his ears, taste the coming death. Jorick was right. Michael would hound and push and wheedle until he finally agreed just to get him off his back, and then.

"No!" he cried. "Jorick's right, Mikey. This is the best way."

"For who? Pat, you don't know what they're like. I can't take months of this."

Jorick interrupted. "It's something for you to think about. I'll find you when you've made your final decisions." He motioned to Oren. "Come. We've made the offer; it's up to them."

Patrick watched with horror as his only hope disappeared into the darkness.

When they'd gone, Michael snapped, "Can you believe that?"

Patrick turned on him. "Goddammit, what did you expect? That they'd do you a favor for nothing? Who the hell do you think you are?"

He didn't wait for the answer before he stormed back to his apartment.