The Recruit Page 17

  She couldn’t resist. Moving the pointer to the reply button, she clicked. It didn’t take her long to type a short message of her own:

  Coleen, I'm fine. Please stop looking for me. I've been going through some changes. I'll write more when I get the chance. Love, Becca.

  It didn't surprise her to find Dylan at the shooting range early the next morning. When Rebecca found she could not go back to sleep, she hoped she would find Dylan there. After debating with her feelings, she knew deep down she felt responsible the man she loved had stormed out of her apartment the night before.

  It was still too early to meet Jonathan in the training room, so she tried to find Dylan, instead. As soon as she saw him glancing her way at the shooting range, she got cold feet. Well, almost. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she tried to ignore her jitters to face him.

  It was ridiculous. She couldn't be acting like some High School girl while in an underground base filled with vampires who had been alive for over a hundred years. And what would Dylan, who truly was an old man behind that young exterior, think of her when she told him she had trouble sleeping because they had had their first argument a few hours before?

  Rebecca's eardrums exploded when Dylan discharged his weapon pretending he hadn't seen her. He wore the same suit he had worn the night before while shooting with none of the protection he needed. With his outstretched arm, he pointed at the moving target in front of him without missing a beat.

  “What do you need?” he asked her while reloading his weapon when she had stopped behind him.

  "I woke up early and I thought I'd practice before meeting Jonathan," she answered dryly.

  Grunting, Dylan used his free hand to take his device out. "It’s four in the morning," he observed. "You need to sleep. Better if you go back to bed."

  This only infuriated her. Just who did he think he was? Only the vampire who brought her to this place, she reconsidered.

  "I'll be fine," she said, heading to pick up a weapon from the cage.

  "Wrong." Dylan's attention was now fully on her. His weapon rested by his side. "I drank blood, what did you have? A muffin?” His tone was condescending, mocking. What had happened to the caring Dylan she knew? Was this how he used to be before he met her?

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said. Raising his hand back, he aimed at the target. “Don’t stop on my account; feel free to shoot at your leisure.”

  Fighting the urge to kick him was hard. It took some effort, but she remained calm as she walked to retrieve her gun and then to the booth next to his. Picking up the earmuffs and goggles, she prepared to shoot. It felt good to hold a gun, natural. She knew she had visited the shooting gun hoping to find Dylan, but she made a mental note to come practice every day.

  She didn't notice, but Dylan stopped shooting just as she started. Like she had done before, the bullets seemed to look for the target. With little effort, her marksmanship was extraordinary. Discharging all six bullets, she stopped to reload her gun. Through her earmuffs, she heard Dylan’s muffled voice, “You’re doing it wrong,” he said.

  Without turning around and after narrowing her eyes, she said, “And now you care?”

  “Do you want my help or not?”

  Sure, she did. She also wanted to understand what his problem was. Although, wait… she did understand what his problem was.

  “I didn’t mean what I said,” she confessed.

  “About what?”

  “About blood.”

  Sighing, he shook his head. “Pay no attention; it’ll pass. I’m not fond of people judging me every single minute of my life and then when you-”

  "Well, I’m apologizing," Rebecca snapped. "I like you better when you like me back."

  He smiled at her. Shrugging, he said, “I don’t even know why it bothered me so much, now that you mention it.”

  But, Rebecca knew. She had a pretty good idea why it had bothered him. It wasn't just her life that had changed drastically; Dylan's world had also turned upside down. If Lucius was right, he had lived on a blood only diet for decades. Not sleeping had to affect someone's brain. Not just that, if it affected his focus, now that he fed more like a human, his focus had to be affected, too. He must've lost some of that efficiency, becoming more distracted. More human.

  "You’re right," she confessed, putting the gun down. "I need to get used to drinking it. It's only natural now. I shouldn't be scared of it."

  "Becca," he exhaled, "I respect your choices, I always have.”

  "I know," she nodded. "I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for me."

  For a long moment he stared at her. Perhaps it was because he wasn't believing what she was telling him. But, hopefully it was because he was proud of her. It didn't matter. When he finally moved, he closed the distance between them, held her tight, and kissed her.

  "Come on," he said. "I'll take you home."

  Quietly, she agreed.

  Blood. The breakfast of champions.

  At least, that how Rebecca felt. Walking next to Dylan the next day as he escorted her to meet Jonathan Gonzalez, she couldn’t stop talking. It had been stupid to be repulsed by it, a waste of time. Now, after having tasted it, she could still feel it pulsing through her veins, giving her strength, vitality, and energy.

  Dylan walked beside her with his hands in his pockets and a big smile while he listened intently to everything she had to say about how wrong she had been. He looked happy and Rebecca liked seeing him happy. Who would have thought blood was the ingredient missing to take their relationship to the next level?

  They stopped in front of the training room and Rebecca finally quit her ramble to stand in front of Dylan, take his jacket with both hands and pull him towards her. “Give me a kiss,” she requested and Dylan complied. She wondered if he could smell the blood that still lingered on her mouth.

  “Enjoy your training session,” Dylan said, walking away.

  Rebecca entered the training room to find Jonathan doing push-ups. Right after feeling her presence, the former Marine stood up, brushing the dust off his hands and clothes, to welcome her.

  “Good morning!” he exclaimed.

  "Good morning," Rebecca replied more enthusiastically than ever. "I’m ready to work, sir."

  “Aren’t we the happy little soldier today,” he frowned in curiosity. “What’s the meaning of this new attitude, Ms. Sawyer?” Jonathan asked, “Did Torrence get lucky last night?” Rebecca flushed as she heard this, her smile losing its vigor. Soon, Jonathan was shaking his head. “No, it’s different. This is different,” he pondered. “I’ve never figured Torrence for the romantic type, no. No, no. This-This is blood, isn’t it? You drank it?” Rebecca smile bashfully, giving away her secret. “Well, well, Ms. Sawyer,” he laughed out loud. “You fell into temptation. How long did it take you? A week?”

  “Are you going to keep talking about it, sir, or are we going to have a workout?”

  Jon found the insubordination on Rebecca’s part amusing. “I wonder,” he said instead, “I wonder if I could use this opportunity to do an experiment.”

  “What experiment?” Rebecca wondered.

  “You are aware your boyfriend is an efficient killing machine, aren’t you?”

  She wouldn’t exactly put it like that, but she had gotten the gist of his prowess. Her weight shifted from side to side, “What are you talking about?”

  “Well,” he straightened up, holding his hands behind him as he started walking around her, making sure his booted heel touched the ground first with every step. “I hear you’re a natural marksman,” he listed, “and from what I've seen, you're flexible and quick.” He then reconsidered, “Might have to do with the fact you were a dancer before, but… it makes me wonder.”

  Rebecca kept following him with her eyes. Deep down, she could tell he was plotting something; she could almost see what he wanted to do to her. “I’m still pretty new at this, sir. Please be gentle.”

  �
��Gentle?” The word came at the same time as the attack. Raising his fist, he aimed directly at her face. Except, it was almost as if Rebecca had known this would happen. With ease, she evaded the punch, moving to one side, sending Gonzalez tripping after her when he missed.

  “You wanted to hit me!” she protested.

  Her heartbeat sped up, but she couldn’t tell if it was from fear or surprise at how easily she had moved away from the punch. Hearing Gonzalez’s laughter from behind, she turned around to face him.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.

  Those had been the exact same words Thomas Fig had used after seeing her shoot. Only, instead of explaining what just happened, Jonathan charged again, this time, he aimed with his elbow.

  Rebecca could see his movement clear enough and almost in slow motion. Not only that, at the same time she could see his other hand and she knew what he planned to do with it. Falling to her knees just in time, she took his other arm, pulling him to the floor before she stood up again. Gonzalez flipped and fell on the floor below her, lying flat on his back.

  Rebecca covered her mouth in panic after realizing what she'd done. “Oh, no. I am so sorry, Jon!”

  However, Jonathan Gonzalez didn’t seem to be worried about pain. On the contrary, he relaxed on the floor and started to laugh once again, his broad chest moving up and down. “Dylan, you old dog, how in the world did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  Ignoring her question, Jonathan stood up with a jump. Rebecca still couldn’t figure out why he kept grinning at her. "You’re sloppy, have no technique," he counted with his fingers. "But, man! You have it!"

  “Have what?”

  Again, instead of giving her a straight answer, Jonathan Gonzalez said, “I know what I have to do with you, Rebecca Sawyer.” He laughed, amused. “And I will train you to be a worthy partner to the best werewolf hunter I’ve ever known.”

  “Please tell me what you mean?”

  Gonzalez wouldn’t hear it, “Now drop down and give me one hundred.”

  Rebecca sighed and reluctantly complied.

  The next few weeks became a predictable routine. Rebecca had a schedule to follow and Dylan got back to work. They saw each other only at the end of the day, and Dylan would do nothing but hear all about her progress as they worked on her marksmanship and fighting skills.

  Rebecca not only learned what to do with her new abilities, but she could also feel her body changing. No longer was she the skinny, classical ballet dancer. Her muscles were bigger, and for some reason, she seemed to be gaining weight. It bothered her, but she didn’t say anything. One thing was certain, she was having too much fun at her training sessions. Perhaps she enjoyed them as much as she had enjoyed those dance master classes. That didn't mean she didn't miss dancing, but at least she had another activity she enjoyed to replace it.

  Every day was precious as was her blooming relationship with Dylan. As Rebecca learned to become a soldier, they had more interests in common. For some reason, she was beginning to see him more as a potential partner than a husband. Marriage, which had once been her goal, was losing its importance. In a society as the one the vampires had underground, she could not picture a lavender purple wedding like the one Coleen had had. Just being with your partner seemed to be enough.

  Their time together had decreased with their busy schedules, but what time they had they used to its fullest. They were happy together; they trusted each other and enjoyed each other's company.

  Their physical relationship had also taken a step forward. One night, when Dylan had come back tired and covered in blood and mud, Rebecca had run to him worried.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  Dylan didn’t answer. Shaking his head from side to side, he moved to hold her. Rebecca smelled the sweat and blood so close to her she didn’t know what to think. “I almost had him,” he whispered in her ear.

  Rebecca had no idea what he was talking about, but she knew it wasn’t the right time to ask. Besides, she knew she would know everything once she became an agent, and she was positive that time was quickly approaching.

  That night, Dylan’s lips found hers as he held her tighter than ever. Carrying her to the bedroom, he had finally made her his.

  Rebecca fell back on the bed trying to control her breathing. She now understood why Dylan had been holding back before; he was a rough lover, dangerous. He was wild and unpredictable, and although a bit scary at first, she wouldn't have it any other way. They were two vampires making love, and even when they had the added perk of owning a pair of sharp fangs they used to pierce each other's skin for pleasure, they had never been so close and intimate before this night.

  Dylan didn't linger in bed with her. The stench of the dried blood - mostly his - and sweat, now permeated the entire room. Leaving her in the dirty sheets, he stood up to take a shower. Rebecca didn’t blame him.

  They had skipped dinner for their time in bed, and Rebecca's stomach grumbled. In her kitchen, she now had a decent amount of blood bags ready to be consumed and she wondered if she should have one while she waited for Dylan to come out of the shower. Although it was late, and drinking blood would take away her sleep and she enjoyed sleeping. It was the only thing that always made her reconsider feeding the red liquid.

  It didn't take Dylan long to reappear, this time with a towel around his torso, his dark hair wet and smelling of shampoo and soap. Rebecca knew she would need to take the smelly sheets to the washateria on the ground floor as soon as she had time. She would not be able to sleep on them that night.

  “Let’s go to dinner,” he blurted out.

  “Go to dinner?” Immediately, Rebecca thought he meant going back to the underground level to get something from the little convenience store. Perhaps she could even take the sheets with her to rid the stench off of them.

  “We should celebrate,” he said. “Get dressed, we’re going out.”

  Wait, what? What are we celebrating? With a confused expression, she asked, “What do you mean out?”

  His lips curled into a smile, “Out. Out there. To the real world.” Then, “I thought you’d want to. You’ve been here for weeks and if you’re anything like me, you probably feel a little claustrophobic by now.”

  She did. She felt claustrophobic sometimes. If her training session hadn’t been going so well, she would have disobeyed and left the compound for some fresh air sooner.

  “I’m not ready,” she said in a sudden panic.

  “Sure, you are,” Dylan wouldn’t hear it. “It’s just dinner. Dim lights, a few people. It’s late on a weekday so it won’t be that crowded; you’ll be fine.”

  “If you say so,” she mumbled.

  “I say so,” he smiled. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

  With mixed feelings, Rebecca got out of bed.

  Before the big revelation about Dylan’s secret, they had found several things in common; one of them was their taste in music. Rebecca, having grown up surrounded by the dancing world, preferred classical music above all others. Dylan, having lived for so many years, had settled for the old classical pieces, as well. It was the music that had stayed constant throughout the years and he had learned to love them. Sometimes, he would listen to jazz or swing or popular music from the 1920s; tunes he knew from when he was younger and human.

  Rebecca was glad to hear Dylan had Tschaikovsky playing when she got into the familiar black BMW she hadn't ridden in weeks.

  Tchaikovsky, composer of popular ballets like the Nutcracker, Swan Lake, and Romeo and Juliet. The music reminded her of her past, which was something she hadn’t done in a while. More than remembering her time in New York, she felt a sense of longing for her years as a dance teacher in her old town. Why would she miss a life she had been glad to abandon?

  Keeping quiet as Dylan drove them out of the underground parking lot, Rebecca looked up into the sky for the first time in weeks. The moon was almost full up in the darkness and they could see the stars at the
tip of the tall short-leaf trees. Turning around to face the building as they drove away, she came to realize she didn’t remember ever having seen the outside exterior of the old agency building. When Dylan had driven her that first night, she had fallen asleep on the way, waking up until Dylan had stopped the engine in the underground garage. Now that she glanced at it, it looked like a haunted mansion. Perhaps during the day it looked harmless, but she wouldn't know until she came back out to take a look when the sun was shining.

  “Has Jon talked to you about night vision?” Dylan said, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Yes,” Rebecca told him.

  “Is that under control?”

  Nodding, Rebecca turned to look at the long road ahead of them framed by the tall tree trunks. The road soon became paved as Dylan got near the end of the agency’s property. At the very end of it, a gate that looked just as old as the building they had left behind, blocked their path.

  Rebecca watched as Dylan opened the window to reach the keypad where he scanned his device. When the window slid down, a plethora of smells - probably coming from the live flora and fauna that surrounded them - filled her nostrils. She knew animal blood, while safe to ingest, wasn’t very appetizing, which made it easy to ignore.

  The gate in front of them opened. “Are you ready?” Dylan asked her.

  “A little nervous,” she replied.

  Dylan seemed to understand, “Things won’t be that different,” Dylan reassured her. “You yourself have been different for so long that this will be easier than the first few days. Besides, most people change surrounded by humans and they are fine. You’ve had weeks to get used to being a vampire. You should be more than fine.”

  She believed him, but that didn’t mean she wasn't anxious to face a world that now had nothing in common with her - not that it had many things in common with her before.