The Recruit Read online

  "Is he a werewolf hunter?"

  "Right now he's special ops," Dylan explained. "He mostly does undercover work. He's on sabbatical, which makes it the perfect opportunity to use him to train you. He's a good teacher."

  “Is that’s him?” Rebecca asked when she noticed a man leaning on the handrail right in front of a door.

  Jonathan Gonzalez was of Latino descent. He wore a tight black t-shirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination, baggy khaki pants, and sported a military haircut. He was a lean and athletic man with a strong, square jaw. He looked a lot like the average male ballet dancers she had met in her lifetime. He must’ve had some pretty impressive genetic material to start with to have ended up with a body like his after his transformation. Regardless, his face looked kind, and determined; a confident man who seemed to know exactly what he was doing, what he had to do, and why he was doing it.

  As she saw him standing there, with a little Styrofoam cup gripped in his left hand, she heard Dylan again; he was whispering into her ear this time, but she was now sure Jonathan could hear everything they were saying, “We also didn’t have the little pill you took, so Jonathan had to drink a lot of blood samples before one of them finally kicked in.”

  Human blood? Rebecca wondered, why not just drink from another vampire?

  Jonathan began to walk towards them. "Only because you wouldn’t give me your blood, Torrence." Yes. He had heard them.

  “You wish, Gonzalez,” Dylan chuckled.

  “Were you afraid I would steal your thunder, uh?”

  Dylan only laughed out loud.

  Once they were a few feet away, Rebecca caught the scent coming from the little cup. Blood. She was getting good at stopping her fangs from sliding down. She had almost done it unconsciously this time. It was the eye color shifting to its red iris that was a problem

  Jonathan Gonzalez must have noticed them changing because he took the cup away from Rebecca's proximity. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that.”

  “What?” Dylan asked, confused.

  "Your new partner is still getting used to smelling the contents of my cup."

  “Blood?” Dylan asked the obvious.

  “Right.” Jonathan took his free hand and offered it to Rebecca to shake. “I’m Jonathan Gonzalez, by the way.” His grip was firm, strong. Not that Rebecca minded anymore.

  “I'm Rebecca Sawyer.”

  Jonathan was already bobbing his head, "I know," he then pointed to his cup. "If you need to practice self-control, I can also help you with that."

  Blushing, Rebecca said, “You can call me Becca.”

  Jonathan grinned after he was done studying her. With a click of his tongue, he told Dylan, “Man, no disrespect, but are you sure she's the one you want me to train?”

  “You should see her shoot,” Dylan bragged.

  “Really?” His eyebrows went up when he turned to Rebecca again. “Are you any good, Ms. Sawyer?”

  Once again, she felt her cheeks turn red.

  Dylan continued, “Thank you for doing this, Jon, I know you keep a busy schedule.”

  "Busy?" Putting his arm around Dylan’s shoulder, Jonathan forced him to come closer. "I'm on sabbatical, my schedule is your schedule. Besides, if we don’t help each other, who will? Right, Torrence?"

  “Right,” Dylan muttered, bothered by the breach of personal space.

  Letting Dylan go, Jonathan looked back at Rebecca. “I have to say, Ms. Sawyer, I was glad to hear you took on this responsibility. Few would do what you did. It's to be admired. Something to be proud of.”

  “Please call me Rebecca. Or Becca,” she insisted.

  “Rebecca. Sure thing,” Jonathan repeated the name one time. “Anyway, it’s rare I get to meet brave women like you, willing to dedicate their lives to protecting our country by fighting werewolves.”

  So far, she didn't feel dedicated. "Where are you going to train me?"

  Another grin appeared on his face. "Glad you asked," he said. "It’s one of my new training rooms. Designed it and built it myself just for the occasion. You can never have too many training rooms." He gave Dylan a punch on the shoulder, "Even people like us need to harness our abilities. Right, Torrence?"

  “Right,” answered Dylan, not sounding convinced and just going with the flow.

  Rebecca grimaced as she saw how hard Jonathan was now patting Dylan's back. “Excellent! This way, ma’am.” He walked with long strides, and Rebecca had to hurry to follow behind him as he turned a corner. Dylan didn’t seem that worried to keep up. Glancing behind him, Jonathan Gonzalez called to Rebecca’s partner, who kept adding distance between them. “Are you doing the real shooting sessions with her soon, Torrence?” Jonathan stopped in front of a door and opened it after scanning his device in front of a screen above a keypad.

  “Uhm, about that...” Dylan said.

  Jonathan didn’t even wait for an answer, “How’s that coming along?”

  “It’s only been a few days, maybe in a few weeks?” Dylan confessed, catching up to them.

  "I’ve only been to the shooting range once so far," Rebecca told Jonathan. "I don't think I'm ready for moving targets."

  Jonathan exchanged a strange glance with Dylan, startling her with a loud chuckle, “She doesn’t know about those other ones, I gather.”

  Dylan laughed nervously at that. “She'll be asking about them now.”

  Once more Rebecca felt out of the loop. “What are you two talking about?”

  The Ex-Marine didn’t let them talk much, for he was quick to speak again, “You can talk about it later, lovebirds. Here we are.”

  Rebecca looked up to see a large room that looked like the military had camped in. The training room had obstacle courses everywhere. Ropes, ladders, nets. It was a bigger-than-life obstacle course. “Are you serious?” she said without thinking.

  “’Course I am!” exclaimed Jonathan proudly, pointing at himself. “Best mentor you could have to pass that field examination, Ms. Sawyer.”

  Rebecca wasn't sure he needed all those contraptions. Unsure, she turned to Dylan, “Any chance you can train me?”

  "He is the best teacher here," Dylan shook his head. "And I’m probably the worst one."

  Jonathan added, “Will you be staying, Torrence? I could sure use your expertise.”

  Dylan shrugged; he looked down at his clean suit and polished shoes. “There is no way I’m getting on those things. I’ll watch from here for a while, and then I’m going back to work.”

  “Even the best could use some training, Dylan.” The fact Jonathan had called him by his first name did not go unnoticed by Rebecca.

  “Right.” Dylan gave two steps back and pushed Rebecca closer to the soldier, “You two go ahead.”

  “Oh, God…” she whispered while Jonathan laughed and clapped his hands together, eager to start.

  “Let’s get this show on the road!”

  Rebecca was hungry and mentally exhausted by the time she came back from training with agent Gonzalez to do much of anything that night. “Can’t we order take out?” she asked Dylan, who was on hold for a call on his phone. Her throat ached with the hunger that hadn't been satisfied for hours. Her body didn't feel tired, but her throat ached from the need to feed. Somehow she knew once she ate something, she would be ready to go to bed and then be ready for another day of hard work.

  “Not possible from here,” Dylan told her. With his phone over one ear, he walked to check her kitchen pantry for supplies, frowning. “We need to go downstairs to restock, you’re running out of groceries.”

  The last thing Rebecca wanted was to get out of her position on the sofa. She should have gone to the convenience store sooner. “What about your place? Surely you have something there.”

  Dylan pursed her lips. "My apartment is stocked with blood. If that's what you're craving, we can go to the Blood Bank. I think it's time you gave in to drinking it. It'll be good for you."

  "I thought you ate regular food now. Do
n't you?" wondered Rebecca out loud.

  Dylan removed the phone from his ear, he had been on hold for too long. Hanging up, he returned the device to his pocket. "When I'm not with you, I drink it. It makes me better, more efficient. It clears my mind." He wasn't finished, "Eating muddles my brain, makes me stop to sleep, shave," he chucked before saying the last item on his list, "and go to the bathroom."

  "But, Lucius said you shouldn't live only on blood," she reminded him. "When I spoke with him, he said it had gotten you in trouble."

  He looked weary, probably tired of being reminded what he should and shouldn't do. "I was fine on a blood diet," his tone betrayed the truth. "I never hurt anyone, I was better at my job, that's all. And everyone drinks blood," he insisted, "if they say they don't, then they're lying. We all need it. Look at Alan, he drinks it all the time and nobody stops him."

  "I thought he needed it to work all day and be able to do his job."

  "I need it to do my job!"

  "Well," Rebecca stood up, walking to the pantry to search on anything that could ease her hunger. "I have never drunk blood and I don't need to drink it." Finding a box of crackers, she ripped it open and started eating. "Honestly, I can't understand how you spent decades drinking only blood. I remember when we went to Millie's you seemed to enjoy those burgers. How you didn't tire of blood is beyond me. We all need variety."

  "You don't know what you're saying," he scoffed. "Try blood and then we'll talk."

  "I won't drink it.” Dylan didn't seem to understand. "You don't get it. It smells great, I know it's a part of what I am now, but... once I do, once I try it," she stopped to look for the right words, "Then I'll feel like a monster."

  Dylan stared at her. "I'm not a monster."

  She realized her mistake too late. "I didn't say you were."

  "I'm a vampire," he looked offended. Dylan, who never seemed to lose his calm, was trying to contain a storm. "For decades I have protected thousands of humans killing werewolves. That does not make me a monster, that makes me a hero. And if what I need to do my job is drink blood, then why shouldn't I?"

  "Dylan," Rebecca had never seen him like this, "I didn't mean-"

  "When you came here," Dylan wasn't done, "you knew what I was and what I did. You knew what it meant. If anything, I chose you because you seemed to understand that we have purpose. I thought you understood that even when everyone else thinks we're monsters - evil - you saw past that and saw us as a force for good."

  "And I do, but-"

  "Then, drink blood and stop judging me for it," he growled. Rebecca gave a step back, away from him. "Everybody in this agency expects me to keep doing what I do, but they all expect me to change who I am. Why should I?"

  "Dylan-"

  His breathing had quickened, his face distorted in anger. He took a moment to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and let it go. Rebecca had never seen him lose his temper and wondered if he did it with others or only with her. She wondered if it was only she who triggered these emotions or if it was the intake of blood that had suppressed them before. She had felt so secure with him, feeling it was his job to make her feel at ease. But, she was wrong. They were equal now and her job had become to be his partner. To listen and understand him, not judge him. If what he said was true, he needed someone on his side, for once.

  "I need...," Dylan whispered, Rebecca's attention fixed on him. She gave a step in his direction, wanting to reassure him she was on his side, wanting to let him know he could count on her. He waved her away, walking to the door. "I apologize. I need some time alone."

  Storming out of the apartment, Rebecca wondered what else he had buried deep inside.

  This had been the first time she had seen Dylan lose his temper. She was sorry to see him go, knowing she had been partly responsible for his outburst, and yet there was something inside her that told her she shouldn't worry about it. It seemed she was having to choose between feeling guilty for Dylan's problems or letting them go as something she couldn't control.

  She finished the box of crackers while lost in her own thoughts. Soon, her body didn't feel like it would kill for something to eat, and that was enough. Now alone, she took a long shower, dried her short hair with the blower, and brushed her teeth. Tomorrow would be a new day. Tomorrow, she would get more groceries from the convenience store and continue training with Jonathan. Tomorrow Dylan would come back and they would continue their relationship where they had left it. Everything would work out.

  Before going to bed, she visited the study. The room looked absolutely different from the vacant space she had once seen. Now, it had a long desk with a desktop computer with two screens waiting. There was also a new filing cabinet and an empty bookshelf that hadn't been there when she had first arrived.

  The night before, Alan had spent hours going over everything she needed to know about accessing the system. He had given her a username and password and had warned her everything she did on that computer would always be recorded. It was for their safety; he had explained. He also explained how she shouldn't give any personal information to the outside world. She could browse the intranet as long as she had clearance for it and be careful when browsing the internet. Again, it was for their protection.

  Turning the computer on, Rebecca waited for the log on screen. Soon the agency's main database appeared where several icons were displayed. Alan had gone over the few menus she could access while she trained to become a certified agent; they included her agency's email account, personal journal, main database, and reports.

  Clicking on the Main Database icon, which looked like a small filing cabinet, she typed the name, Dylan Torrence.

  With a click, an endless list of references appeared under his name. Each listed with the date and a code which told her what kind of file it was. Everything from field reports filed by him to ones which referenced him showed up. The files were sorted by date. Rebecca looked closer to find Dylan had filed a report the day before.

  Without thinking twice, she clicked on it.

  Access Denied – the computer warned. She had a feeling most reports wouldn't be available to her yet. She understood about confidentiality and clearance.

  Right before logging off the screen, the pointer hovered over his name on the search bar and she realized it was really a live link. She clicked on it and a status page appeared. Rebecca saw a picture of him on the left side of the screen. Dylan had posed for the camera without a hint of emotion. His brown eyes stared at the viewer, his mouth a thin line, his dark brown hair always combed to one side. To the right, she could read information about him, like his weight, height, and other random statistics, such as his date of birth, August 14, 1904.

  Finding out she could access this information on the computer, she searched the others she had met. Thomas Fig, Jonathan Gonzalez, Alan, and Jacob Anders were in the system. Even the human psychologist, Hugh Stevens, had a file. Unfortunately, nothing about their files was very interesting. She supposed everything worth reading was still out of reach to her. Before logging off, she typed in one last name: Lucius. The director's file was almost empty. The last name field was blank, as was his date of birth. He was an enigma, even to his own agency.

  Once she'd seen enough, Rebecca clicked on the internet icon, represented by an image of planet Earth. It was time to search the world wide web. The screen changed to offer the available browsers. She then typed in the address to her studio email provider, entering her login information. The screen displayed her unread messages. She deleted all advertisements to be left with four messages from the same recipient: Coleen Anderson.

  The subject to all emails was the same: RE: Hello?

  The oldest message had been sent on the day she had driven with Dylan to the agency. The same day she had taken the little red pill that had turned her into something other than human. Clicking on the subject line, the message opened.

  Hi, Becca, Coleen had written, mom said you handed your resignation last night, everything all rig
ht? Mom spent all day today frantically looking for another teacher. She's crushed you left. I called you several times, but you didn’t answer, so I thought I'd write you a message. I hope you read it. Where did you go? Coleen.

  Rebecca remembered hearing the phone ringing several times when she had been packing earlier that last morning. She was determined to just disappear from her old life, without giving anyone an explanation. She knew no one would understand why she had left with Dylan. She hadn't meant to hurt Mrs. Anderson, but she couldn't expect to rely exclusively on Rebecca to keep her dance studio open. For months Rebecca had told her she should hire someone to help her with the classes and Mrs. Anderson hadn't moved a finger.

  Closing the message, she opened the next message, dated one day after.

  Becca, mom tells me you left town. Like, forever? I thought she'd meant you left the studio, but apparently it's the entire town. I can't believe that; your whole life is here. Besides, you wouldn't leave without telling me, would you? I keep calling, but no one answers. I'm worried. Where could you have gone? Is it Dylan? Did he kidnap you? Did you guys elope? What's going on? I hate being in the dark, please answer. Coleen

  The second message closed with a click. The next one was short:

  Becca. Where are you? Answer.

  Rebecca opened the last message:

  I spoke with dad. Told me to stop looking for you and not ask any questions. That, of course, worried me even more. Come on, Becca. Are you out there? What happened?

  Rebecca sat there, staring at the last message. Mr. Anderson understood, he knew Dylan was a vampire, and probably assumed she had decided to turn into one, too. Poor Coleen, Rebecca could tell she was genuinely worried about her. Perhaps leaving without saying a word hadn't been such a great idea after all. Dylan had said it was best to just leave, making it easier for everyone... what if he'd been wrong?