Origins (A Demonkin Novel) (15 page)

After the questions of my lineage and abilities finished the questions became very personal. These came mostly from the tabloid reporters who voiced their questions rudely over those who had been chosen, or before someone had been chosen to ask their question. Most of the time their respectable peers ignored them, and sometimes they asked a question the rest of the room wanted to know the answer to. Some even had theories I had been created in a lab by the FBI, or the FBI had paid a vampire to make me so I could work for the FBI. I set the record straight and stuck to the story the FBI had concocted.

For the most part the conference went well. Never in all my life had I thought I would ever be a topic of interest, let alone the focus, at a press conference. I just hoped it would be the end of it. It would be pretty hard to do my job with reporters tagging along all the time or following me. Every time I had ever watched a newscast on the television, my heart always went out to the people being interviewed by moronic reporters. "Excuse me, ma'am, but your son was just decapitated by a train, how do you feel?" or "When you were being robbed at knifepoint, did you feel afraid?” I always wanted to know who wrote the questions for the reporters.

After the last question, I waved to the reporters and left the stage. I could hear my name being called again repeatedly, but the Deputy Director had dismissed me to make another one of his long winded statements. The agent who debriefed me smiled and gave me a "Good Job" as I entered the hallway. "Please wait here, the Deputy Director wants to speak to you before you head to Chicago." I suppressed the urge to say "oh goody" and just smiled and nodded.

I listened to the Deputy Director's speech and then he too told the reporters goodbye. I heard the click clack of his shoes as he came up behind me."Agent Ashlyn, I thank you so much for consenting to the dog and pony show. You did a phenomenal job. Are you all set to get to Chicago? You're greatly needed out there. They are having quite a trouble with their Master of the City. Anyway, thank you so much again. If you have any trouble out there, be sure to contact me and I'll help you anyway I can," he said and shook my hand. I felt dirty after shaking it though. He had a soft grip and sweaty palms, gross.

He turned and left me there and the aid who debriefed me, smiled and turned to follow. I figured I had a little over an hour to get to the airport and catch my flight. The FBI wasn't footing the bill for a private aircraft for me this time, I got to fly coach. I needed to haul some serious ass.

I left the building and walked out to the street to find a cab. The gods of travelers must have been with me because as soon as I stuck out my hand one pulled to the curb and I climbed in. I told him to get me to the airport as soon as possible, my first mistake as an official agent of the FBI. The traffic and driving etiquette in DC is worse than it is in Chicago. We did make it to the airport on time, but my fingers hurt from gripping the armrest of the door so hard. I'm not joking; I dented the metal under the foam and plastic covering of the handle you use to close the door. I just hope the cabbie didn't notice before I left.

Eleven o'clock on a Friday night and Dulles was a madhouse. I presented the ticket I found included with my orders to the frazzled looking woman behind the counter and skipped through airport security (thanks to my brand new FBI badge) and on my way to gate twelve. I had never been on a commercial airline before and hoped it would be as nice as I had seen on television.

* * *

I cursed the airline company as I got off the plane and made my way up to the terminal. I have never been so uncomfortable in all my life. When the stupid teenage girl sitting next to me noticed my gun, I thought she would give birth to a litter of kittens. Oh well. Next time I'd pay the difference and upgrade to first class. I still had quite a few un-cashed paychecks plus a lot of my own cash. I needed to go shopping and open a bank account.

I exited the terminal since I didn't have to hit the baggage claim. Out front waited a row of taxis, so finding a ride wasn't a problem. The cab driver blinked at me in the rearview when I told him the address and told him I wanted to go to the FBI field office in Chicago. I had just spent two hours on an airplane from Dulles to here and I gained an hour from the time change so it had to be around midnight Chicago time. Maybe I should just check into a hotel close by and report later tonight. I thought better of the idea and decided to at least check in. I could get everything settled and stay in one of the overnight rooms, sounded good enough to me.

We pulled up to the front door almost a half an hour later. I paid my fair and tip and walked into the front door. One of the FBI police officers sat behind the desk, so I flashed him my badge and told him I needed to see Special Agent Reese or Agent Michaels if they were available.

I expected him to pick up a phone and call, but he punched a few buttons on his computer instead. "Special Agent Reese is expecting you, Agent Ashlyn, somebody will be down in a minute," he said and flashed me a smile.

I waited in the reception area for a few minutes and then I heard the telltale "ding" of the elevator. Agent Michaels stepped off and looked around. He saw me and his face lit up like a Christmas tree. I smiled back at his goofy grin. I dropped my bag and had my arms around him before he even stepped off the elevator. Even the FBI Police officer hadn't seen me move. I heard Michaels' oomph and I picked him up off the floor."Put me down girl!" He sounded outraged, but I could hear the happiness in his voice, and the smile never left his face. "Come on kid, let's get you settled."

I went back and grabbed my bag and followed the big doof into the elevator. He questioned me non-stop about my time at Quantico and my experiences there. I told him everything from start to finish, including the stupid press conference on television. He already knew about it and confessed he had it on Tivo and had already watched it. I punched him on the arm.

The whole time we had been talking, we made our way upstairs and he got me settled in a desk I could use while on duty in this field office. He asked if I knew how long I would be in Chicago, and I confessed I had no clue. I would have to talk to Reese about it tomorrow."Well Reese expected you tonight and told me to tell you you're not on duty until tomorrow." He glanced at his watch and added, "I mean tonight. He also told me to take care of you and get you settled. Is there anything you want to do?"

"I need to go buy some clothes and find a bank. Is there any open this late?"

"B of A went twenty-four hours about ten years ago, so yeah. C'mon, let's go shopping," he said in his best "gay" voice. I laughed at its absurdity; he really needed to work on it. Just by looking at the man you could tell he suffered from terminal heterosexuality. He dressed way too sloppy to be gay.

We hit the bank first and I deposited my fist full of paychecks and backpack full of cash. In a week or two I would get my check card, so I could stop carrying cash. I had no idea how much getting outfitted for work would cost me so I kept two grand in my pocket for tonight’s shopping expedition. Michael's knew of a few all night retailers who catered to the late night community, thank gods. I didn't want to have to order everything off the internet and have it delivered. I only had the one outfit appropriate for work and I didn't want to wear it out after the first week.

Several hours later, I had skirts and jackets, and pants and jackets, and shoes, and shirts. Even I didn't feel like shopping anymore. "Where to next?"

I told him to drop me off at a hotel by the office. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, he told me his girlfriend had left him a month ago, and if I didn't mind the mess I, could stay with him. I thought about turning him down, but it would be convenient. He settled the decision for me by pulling into an apartment complex and parking the company vehicle. "I insist brat," he told me with a smile and left no room for argument.

"Fine you oaf, I just hope you don't snore."

"Just don't come in my room for a late night snack leech!" I wish he hadn't said it. He set my tummy rumbling. The look on his face when he heard it made it all worth it though. Now he probably would be up all night. Sometimes life's pretty funny.

He unlocked the door to the tiny two bedroom apartment and a wave of different smells hit me like an invisible wall. Males of the human species when not under the care of a female tend to leave things out to molder and rot. Michaels wasn't an exception, I saw things which had passed into the realm of mummification and petrifaction. I hoped I would be safe in my room. He apologized for the mess and told me his cleaning lady had the day off. I retorted with a, "You mean year?"

He showed me to my room and it only had one small window to the outside world. I asked him if he had a blanket I could hang over it, and he grabbed a thick quilt and staple gun, and held the comforter while I tacked it up. The room had a small television and a bed and dresser, and I thought it perfect. Maybe after he went to bed, I would clean it up a little. A layer of dust had settled over most of the items in the room, and I fought the urge to write "wash me" on the television screen with my finger. Thank the gods I didn't breathe.

We had brought all the bags of clothing I had acquired up from the car with us, and we brought them into the room and I stuffed them in the empty dresser and hung the jackets up in the closet. Shoes went into the closet on the floor as well. When the last item made it from the shopping bags to their new home, I wanted to get clean. "Where's your shower?"

"You walked past it on the way to your room!"

"I know, oaf. I was asking if I could use it! You were supposed to say, in the hall, help yourself," I hollered back.

"No you can't, I like stinky vampires," came his final retort.

I walked to the bathroom, and stripped my clothes and slid in under the cold water. I soaped and washed my hair and turned the faucet off. "Oh shit," I thought, “I forgot a towel.” I stepped out of the porcelain tub and opened the door a crack. "Hey, oaf, could you toss me a towel?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No, I'm in the kitchen and I'm getting my camera. Better run to your room fast!"

"You suck!" I realized what I said. The whole pot calling the kettle phrase popped into my head.

"Did you just tell me I suck? Isn’t that a little hypocritical?”

I saw a pink fuzzy towel appear at the crack of the door and I opened it a little wider so I could grab it. "Thanks oaf," I said to him. I had never been this comfortable around anyone before, and it felt wonderful. I smiled inwardly to myself as I wrapped myself in the towel and stepped outside the bathroom. As soon as I stood in the hallway I saw the flash of a camera go off. "Son of a bitch," I thought and turned. He stood behind me in the hallway, but had the camera pointed at the ceiling. He started laughing and couldn't control it. He wanted to piss me off, but didn't want to cross any lines. I thought about beating him to death with the camera but settled for kicking him in the shin. I tried for lightly, but it vampires don't do lightly. He howled and jumped up and down on one foot while holding his shin in both hands.

"Serves you right oaf," I laughed at him.

"Jesus girl, take it easy on the poor human would ya?"

"Good night," I called over my shoulder and made my way into my room. I locked the door for good measure and unwrapped the towel from around my midriff. I thought about just slipping naked under the covers, but settled on panties and a T-shirt. Knowing Michaels, he might set fire to his own apartment just to get me out of my room.

I settled into the warm bed and pulled the comforter over me. I laid there for a while and replayed the events of the day in my head, the press conference being foremost in my thoughts. I didn't trust the Deputy Director as far as I could throw him. Wait a minute, I could probably throw him pretty far, but I still didn't trust him. I felt the sun come up over the horizon, and I closed my eyes.

Chapter 15

I woke just before sunset and rolled out of bed. I did my best to ignore the hunger growling in the pit of my stomach. I had no idea how to feed it either. I needed to talk to Reese. Maybe the FBI had an infirmary in the Chicago office. Hell, for all I knew the FBI could just commandeer blood from the local blood bank. Commandeering would be cool and solve a lot of problems. Well, for me anyway.

I dressed in a new wool skirt and jacket and slipped on a matching pair of grey shoes. I had purchased a multitude of white dress shirts to wear underneath everything. I did forget about my damn gun though; I needed to get used to putting it on before the jacket. I took off my jacket, strapped on my holster, and threw the jacket back on over it. To me the whole rig seemed really noticeable. I didn't bother buttoning it up and just left it open before I headed to the bathroom to brush my fangs and hair.

I didn't see Michaels, nor had he opened his bedroom door, but I did hear him stumbling around and I heard his shower start. I can tell you one thing from hearing him in the shower, he is a terrible singer. Maybe I should buy him a shower radio, nobody with a horrible voice should sing a cappella. I heard a rabbit scream once when an owl had swooped down and broken the poor beast's back in its talons, and it sounded better than Michaels. I don't think I could listen to Michaels' singing every night. The shower radio sounded better and better.

The shower stopped and I sat at the kitchen counter waiting for him. It took him only ten minutes to get dressed and emerge from his bedroom I imagined looked like a cave. He smiled when he saw me ready, and I gagged at the excessive amounts of aftershave pouring from his body and making its way to my sensitive nose "Ready to go, bloodsucker?"

"Whenever you are, carnivorous ape."

"Ouch," he said as he walked by me and ruffled my hair. Damn it. I pulled the elastic holding it back in my ponytail, flipped my mass of hair forward and snapped it back. I gathered it and retied it. No fuss, no muss is my motto. I despised women with elaborate hairdos. Maybe I should cut mine short. Maybe it would make me look like a pixie with it short. "Or maybe like a boy," my subconscious told me. Maybe I'll leave it long.