Good Things

Personal Responsibility by Mia Darien

I sat in the chair on the other side of my boss’s desk, watching her read over the report I had just placed in front of her. Crossing my legs, I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms over my chest to keep from chewing my already-devastated fingernails. I could see her eyebrows keep lifting like she wanted to look at me but was stopping herself, and my foot started swinging in the air entirely of its own accord.

“Torres,” she finally said, closing the folder and setting it just to her left. She said my name but then nothing else, just took a deep breath and rested her elbows on the desk. She folded her hands, leaning her chin against them. I was just about to tell her that she had in fact gotten my name right, anything to prompt her, when she continued. “I can’t do anything.”

“Oh, come on,” I all but whined. Uncrossing my legs, I planted my feet on the FBI regulation carpet and leaned towards her. “Nobody died.” It seemed I put more weight on the zero-count death tally than anyone else.

“You discharged your preternatural abilities on a suspect,” she stated, sounding exasperated.

I held up my hands with a shrug. “I didn’t shoot anyone!”

She didn’t look impressed. “Frankly, it would have been less paperwork for me if you had. Do you know the current agency regulations and filing for a DPA?”

DPA equaled Discharge of Preternatural Abilities. It was a brave (insane) new world.

My name is Serafina Torres, and I’m an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigations, stationed in the preternatural satellite office in Boston, Massachusetts. In the years since Cameron’s Law, making all preternatural beings legal citizens of the United States, the country had changed—had to change—a great deal. Now there were things like the preternatural satellite office of the FBI. As an electrokinetic—which meant I could create and/or control electrical currents—I was assigned there.

Basically, I’m a human taser.

In the case before us, that was all I did. I used my abilities to stop a suspect who was running. He didn’t die, although he did end up in the hospital for a few days. Just like when any force is exercised on a suspect, you file a report. I was sitting in front of my boss, hoping that there wouldn’t be too much trouble rolling down the mountain about it. I didn’t feel like riding a desk.

I didn’t reply to her question, because I didn’t think anything that would come out of my mouth would actually help. She sighed, either frustrated with me or relieved that I didn’t speak.

“You’re not going to be shelved,” she assured me and I blew out a breath. “However, you’re not going to like what you’ll do instead.”

“I hate it when you do that.” I narrowed my eyes at her, and waited.

“Protective detail.”

“Babysitting?!” I sounded like a teenager asked to babysit their toddler sibling, but I didn’t bother trying to correct myself. I’d been working under this woman for long enough that she knew me for who I was.

She looked thoroughly unimpressed with my annoyance. That was how it usually was, so I wasn’t bothered. I knew that nothing I said could change her mind.

Dropping my head, I sighed.

“Who?” I asked, defeated.

I saw the edge of a file folder enter my vision. Without looking at her, I took it and opened it. Inside, there was a picture clipped to the top left. The name was Ben Collins, and from a quick look at the image, I would guess he had some Pacific Islands in there. Maybe he was from Hawaii. Although why anyone would leave islands like that to come to chilly New England, I couldn’t guess. Reviewing the stats, I saw that he was a vampire, but a young one. It had only been a few years since he Turned.

“He’s a witness for the murder trial of Cameron St John,” my boss said before I got to that part. That automatically made my eyes widen as I looked up.

It was widespread knowledge by now that a top level member of LOHAV—the League of Humans Against Vampires—had been arrested for the murder of Cameron St John, the werewolf who introduced the Preternatural Rights Act in the first place, back in 2010. He and his girlfriend Sadie Stanton had been attacked. Cameron was killed, and Sadie nearly.

But it had been years, and there had never been enough information to make an arrest. I now knew what had changed, but they’d been keeping word of a witness pretty tightly locked.

“As you can imagine,” she continued, “we are highly concerned for his safety. Members of the LOHAV organization have been known to attack and kill preternatural citizens on the street for less reason than being a star witness for the prosecution of one of their elite.”

Suddenly, this job looked much bigger.

“So far, we have no reason to believe that his identity has been leaked; we don’t even think his existence has been leaked, but we’re taking no chances. He’s a vampire and completely vulnerable in daylight, so a guard during those hours is going to be the most important. I plan to have an agent on him at all times. We have to swap out the daytime agent, and you’ll be taking his place. Only one more week until he testifies.”

“So you’re not really punishing me for the DPA?” I asked with a small half-smile.

“Not really,” she agreed with a mirror expression. “Still, this will get you out of everyone’s line of sight for a while.”

I nodded. “When do I start?”

It took a whopping two whole days before my “quiet” daylight assignment went from standard to ‘shit got real.’

Contrary to popular belief, vampires don’t sleep in coffins in mansions better suited to Miss Havishim. Ben Collins lived in a modest first floor apparent, with one bedroom that was sealed off with heavy, oversized blackout curtains. As a young vamp, he was going down halfway through dawn and not waking until full dark. The night agent showed up before that happened and I arrived after dawn, so I never even spoke to him. He kept to his dark room in that coma vamps go to during daylight hours. I played on my laptop, caught up on paperwork, and started reading a new book.

This all changed on my third day.

It started with the smell of something burning. Instinct made me jump up and rush to the oven in his small, stuffed-in-a-corner kitchen. I happen to hold the world record for burned cookies and muffins, so the smell of burning anything made me jump and think I’d done it again. It took until I had a grip on the oven door’s handle before I remembered that I wasn’t cooking anything.

That’s when the smoke detectors went off.

My human brain just shrieked: fire, panic! My FBI brain told me that someone had found out about our witness and where he lived. They were going to burn him alive while he was temporarily dead to the world. It might not have been the case, but I suspected. Whatever the source of the fire, however, one thing was before me: I had to get Collins out.

During daylight hours, vampires are asleep. It’s a coma-like state that no amount of effort can wake them from. Only the sun can do that, and only by setting. Otherwise, the sun isn’t exactly healthy for them. A little can burn, a lot can destroy.

It didn’t pass my notice that this could be a ploy to get Collins out of the building; him like a dead man, and me compromised by dealing with his body. I checked the door and found the hall clear and traces of fire licking the end of it through the open door of another apartment. I rushed back in and called for back up and emergency services as I ran to the bedroom. The space was so short that I had only just gotten a person on the line as I opened the door.

I was explaining the situation very hurriedly as I looked into the pitch black room. Even though I couldn’t afford the time, I was momentarily disoriented. In the age of electronics, and my chronic curtain shortfall, I had never seen a truly dark room. Only the light from the open door I stood in fell on anything, but it was enough to guide me to his body.

I almost tried to wake him, just out of habit, but caught myself. I finished with the phone and stuffed it into my pocket as I hurried to the side he laid on.

By quick estimation, I guessed Collins was 5’9” or thereabouts and happily not a big man. However, I’m only 5’5” and unlike shifters in human form, human psychics don’t have super strength. At least I kept up with my physical fitness as a fed. I knelt down and pulled his dead weight to the edge of the bed and over my shoulders in a sort of firemen’s carry. Grunting with the effort, I stood and staggered awkwardly out of the room. Both the smell of smoke and the smoke itself was getting stronger.

Not bothering to hide my noises of exertion, I made my way across the small apartment and to the door. I fumbled to get it open, finding the handle was already growing hot. I knew that was a bad sign. Entering the hallway, panicked people ran past me to get to the door. I followed a half-clad man down the smoky passage and to the exit.

Sunlight poured through the door as a stark reminder of the guy on my back and what his species was. I held him with one arm as I struggled to pull my gun, just in case this was a trap.

As I emerged, I didn’t see any obvious threats. The overhang above the door kept the sun off us for the moment, but I could feel the heat behind me. Sirens were in the distance, but I had the bigger issue of the vampire now. He grew heavier by the moment and I needed to put him somewhere.

I looked up and down the street and my eyes fell on my car. I was parked at the curb not very far away.

Unfortunately, I had to holster my gun to get my keys. I staggered along the sidewalk and was more aware of the sun than I had ever been in my life. All I needed was to get my thumb on my key fob. I unlocked the doors twice, locked them, and set off the alarm as I jammed blindly at buttons before finally popping the trunk. I thought I heard sizzling behind me, but couldn’t be sure if I was imagining it as I threw him—not very gently, really—into my trunk. I slammed the door, cutting off all light and providing some safety as I turned back to the building.

Above all the noise, I heard someone calling for help. With my eyes already on the building, I saw someone carrying a child out. I guessed the little one couldn’t be more than two and the woman was wailing. “My father is still in there! He can’t walk very well and I couldn’t get them both!” She sobbed around the words.

Again, my brain wondered if this was a trap...but could I live with myself if it wasn’t?

“What apartment?” I demanded of her.

She had that panicked deer look for a moment, like she couldn’t get past the screaming of her child and the smell of the smoke to comprehend my words. I shook her and asked again before she stammered the number.

Still on the first floor.

I ran into the building.

The smoke was clogging the hall now and the heat hurt like hell. I crouched low and covered my mouth with my sleeve as I hurried forward, looking at door numbers.

1D. I hurried in and through the haze, I could see an elderly man with an obviously stiff leg trying to walk with his hands on the walls. I ducked under one of his arms. “Come on, sir,” I said. “I’m a cop.”

“Did Lisa get out?” He coughed before he finished the question.

“Yes,” I replied, walking forward as quickly as the scenario would allow. “She and the kid are outside.”

“Thank God.” He sounded like he was crying, and I couldn’t help feeling choked up. It was just the smoke, of course.

It was sensory overload and deprivation at once. I can’t really recount how I made it out, but we did. Falling to the cement, I kind of dropped the guy but hey, we were out of the burning building. I hacked up a lung, but managed to look up and see that my car was still there and with no signs of an open trunk.

If this had been a trick, it was the most detailed and yet least successful.

Leaving the woman, Lisa, to her father and child, I pushed myself weakly to my feet and hurried to my car. I opened the trunk long enough to assure myself that the origami vampire was still there. He was, so I slammed the top shut and then sagged back to just breathe. My eyes stung, so I didn’t bother looking at the source of the sirens drawing nearer.

A pair of agents came to take Collins—and my car with him—away to another, safer location. Meanwhile, I was down the street, sitting on the back of an open ambulance being offered oxygen that I swatted away, though I accepted the blanket because by now—with the adrenaline waning and fire further away—I was beginning to feel the late winter chill, even if it was abnormally warm for late February. I watched my boss walk up.

“Are you okay, Torres?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest and eyeing me up and down like she could see the state of my lungs with just her eyes.

“Yes, sir,” I replied simply. “Have they put the fire out?”

She nodded. “For the most part.” Pausing, she glanced back at the building beyond the line of fire trucks. “They can’t get in to investigate yet, but I’ll bet anything that it was arson.”

I sighed, and resisted the urge to cough. “I would agree.”

Her x-ray eyes returned to me. “Go home and get some rest,” she said, turning and starting to walk away. She paused and looked back over her shoulder. “Good work, Torres.”

“All I have to do to get a compliment is nearly burn to death,” I said to myself and started chuckling, which made me start coughing, and the medic gave me the oxygen mask again.

My “go home and rest” only lasted a few hours.

I got a call, which told me to wait for a car. The car came and took me to some nondescript building that I could barely make out in the dark. The agent who drove me, who I didn’t know very well and didn’t bother to try and fix that, walked me up to the door.

At the door, after some hoodoo I wasn’t witness to, it opened to reveal my boss. She led me inside while the other agent left.

“He’s asked to see you personally,” she told me by way of greeting. And there was only one “he” this could be, given the day and the setting.

Ben Collins looked almost exactly like his picture. With a human, that would of course be expected. Vampires, however, don’t change physically. I knew the image in his file had been after he was Turned, so seeing that he had a scar at his hairline—pronounced with a small stripe of missing hair going back a couple of inches—was a surprise.

He stood up from the couch as I walked in, smiling as he held his hand out. I took it and shook.

“I am told that I have you to thank for the continuation of my un-life,” he said with humor. “I never imagined I’d be so grateful for the trunk of a car.”

His humor surprised me, and I laughed. “Yes, well. We work with what we have. I’m just glad it worked.”

Collins inclined his head to me. “As am I, I assure you.”

“Mr. Collins has asked that you be shifted to head up his protective detail from now on,” my boss said. “That would put you on the night shift, starting tonight.”

“If you’re up to it, of course,” he interjected. “I know that you took in some of that smoke.”

Even if I hadn’t been up to it, I never would have told them that. First off, because I didn’t like admitting any kind of weakness in front of anyone. Secondly, this was a boon to my career, leading a detail and at the request of a star witness. I wasn’t stupid enough to turn that down. I nodded instead. “I’m fine,” I assured them.

“Good.” My boss patted me on the shoulder, and then left.

“Well,” Collins began a moment after we heard the door shut. “At least you will only have to put up with me for three nights, and then I testify.” He gestured to the couch and we sat. “I hope to be better company living than dead, so to speak.”

“I’m sure you’re fine.” I didn’t settle in too much. Although we were now in a “safe house,” I remained on edge. After what happened to the last place, who could blame me? I had never been on a protective detail like this before. What did one talk about?

The protracted, awkward silence proved I wasn’t the only one. He got up and went to the other room, and I took out my phone.

And that was how the rest of the night went.

I wasn’t looking forward to work the next night.

After an exhausting day and the night shift, I had gone home and collapsed. I slept straight through the day and woke up only once the alarm went off.

Although I was happy that I had gotten recognition, as with most things, it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It had been boring. Now I got to do it for another two nights before making sure he made it into the courtroom for his star testimony. I would say for a man living under the shadow of assassination, he looked pretty collected.

I relieved the agent on shift after I arrived and proved I was who I said I was—a process that was far more complicated in an age of shapeshifters. I settled in for another boring night, but Collins had other plans.

“May I call you Serafina?” he asked as we sat on the couch. The television was on some reality show, but the sound was low.

“If you like,” I said. “Friends call me Sera.”

He smiled, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “I don’t know I know you that well, but then again, you shoved me in a car trunk. That suggests we must be on friendly terms.” He paused when I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re more than welcome to call me Ben.”

It was hard to miss that he was, indeed, a good looking man but he also had a disarming way about him. I wasn’t sure that was a good thing when you were required to be all FBI around a person, but still, it put me at ease that this night would be less boring than the one before.

“All right, Ben,” I said, wondering if this was improper behavior. I didn’t really need another mark against me with the DPA still over my head.

I’d read his deposition once I’d officially been made lead on the case. I knew that he’d been leaving a friend’s home when he’d heard the commotion and seen the tail end of the beating that killed Cameron St John—humans with “brass” knuckles made out of silver. As preternatural beings, like vampires and werewolves, are allergic to silver, it can damage them bad enough that a human could beat them to death.

Which was what happened. Ben saw it and witnessed those who ran away. They’d shot him with a silver bullet when they saw him and before he could get away. He “went to ground” right away, which (I had recently learned) was when a vampire could sink into the ground into a coma far deeper than what happened to them during the day. It allowed their body to heal better, like a vampire’s medical coma.

That explained the scar.

We chatted on and off through the evening. Around midnight found him standing and looking at the window. The shades were down, for protective reasons, but he looked like he wanted to see outside. I didn’t blame him.

“Do you know why I was there that night?” He didn’t specify what night, because we both knew I knew.

“Your deposition says you were visiting a friend,” I replied, curious where this was leading.

He turned to me with a rueful smile. “A suicidal friend. I was talking him off the ledge, so to speak. I was trying to save a life, and then what happens? I’m too late to save another and nearly lose my own.”

That surprised me. I couldn’t reply for a moment then asked, “Would you do it again?”

“What’s that?” His expression was curious.

“If you knew what would happen, would you still help your friend?” It might have seemed like a stupid question to most, but there were too many people out there that might say they wouldn’t if they knew they would nearly be killed.

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation. “It’s why I’m here. No one knew I existed except the killers, and they wouldn’t tell anyone. When I finally healed enough to rise, there was a cop car right at the end of the street. I went straight for him to tell him what’d happened, and find out how long it had been. I didn’t know until I rose.”

He had the bullet. His blood and brain tissue was still on it, proving it was in his head, and the rifling matched a gun that had been registered to the defendant. It explained why they didn’t shoot Cameron, but why had she brought it at all was the question. At the time, she had been a lowly member of the burgeoning LOHAV group but had risen quickly in the years to follow.

“Don’t you believe that if you can act, you have a responsibility to do so?” he asked. “You joined the FBI, so you must feel some sense of responsibility for others.”

“You’ve got me there,” I said with a smile. “I was a cop first.”

“Why did you join the force?” He returned to the sofa and sat down, turning his body to face me.

I narrowed my eyes at him, but not with actual rancor. “I’m the cop. Aren’t I supposed to be asking the questions?”

He smiled. It was full of teeth, but his fangs were “at rest.” He said nothing, but the expression was just as disarming.

“I guess it’s what you said, I felt a responsibility. There’s shit everywhere, bad things happening to people. I guess I thought I could...do something. And my grades weren’t good enough to be a doctor.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I guess that doesn’t make me particularly unique. Shouldn’t I be telling some dramatic story about what led me to this job?”

“Life isn’t always dramatic.”

My brows lifted. “Says the vampire star witness against the nation’s biggest anti-preternatural organization?”

That made him laugh. “Well, my life wasn’t so dramatic before that.”

“You were Turned into a vampire,” I pointed out. “Wasn’t that dramatic?”

“Remarkably? Not really. It wasn’t violent or a surprise. It was a mutual agreement.” He shrugged casually, leaning into the back of the couch and resting his head on the fist.

I smiled. “I guess that makes us a couple of boring people.”

The next night saw us playing poker. Never play poker with a vampire.

He had just raised the bet when there was a knock at the door. We both tensed and I pulled my gun, starting for it. Someone called the password, though, and I relaxed. I didn’t put my gun away however, not until I was absolutely sure.

I kept the burglar chain on as I opened the door to check through it.

I was greeted with the business end of a can of mace straight to the eyes. I shrieked and stumbled back a step. “Saferoom!” I shouted, pawing at my eyes as I heard someone start banging against the door to break the chain. I kept my gun tight but down while I couldn’t see and instead lifted my free hand, loosing a random shot of my electrokinesis. Someone let out a strangled sound.

Forcing my eyes open, I could see blurry images. Someone was on the ground in front of the door but I thought I saw a second. I released another stream, but they dodged back. I stepped back and dug my phone out of my pocket, calling the office for help. There was supposed to be an agent outside the building as well. What had happened to him?

As I staggered past the table where the poker chips and deck of cards remained, I saw that Ben wasn’t there so he must have taken my command.

My vision was slowly coming back as I hurried to find Ben, who was in the small room hidden off the closet. I entered and nearly got my throat torn out before he recognized me. I stared at him in the dim light for a moment.

“I wonder why you need protection,” I whispered, gesturing for him to follow me.

This hidden room connected to stairwell that led to the basement and then an exit. It was an old building with many odd quirks, which made it ideal as a safe house. I could feel my magic lingering just under my skin, unlike the pits of my mind where I usually stuffed it. It was like static electricity to normal people, that feeling that no matter what you do, you’ll spark when you touch something.

I kept my gun out and held up, even if holding it and my magic so close together was painful.

This stairwell was narrow and dark. I knew he could see in the dark, but I wasn’t feeling so great about it. However, knowing it was a straight shot, I knew I wouldn’t get lost. I was more worried about someone following, but so far so good.

We reached the basement and some moonlight came through the high windows. I scouted everything and then went to the door. It was a non-descript wood creation at the very back of the building, overlooked by most unless they were looking for it. I checked to make sure that Ben was still with me and then I opened the door, using my aching eyes to peer out.

I saw a muzzle flash in the darkness and just barely slammed the door before a bullet drove itself into the door frame. My heart tried to crawl out of my mouth but instead a stream of curses that would make a sailor brush came free.

Right as they started banging on the door there, I heard them back at the metal door that led from the stairwell.

“Get down!” I shouted and then dropped my gun, putting my hands out to either side—one toward the wooden door and one toward the metal. I rarely had reason to stretch my powers this much, but desperate times... Electricity shot like lightning from both hands, striking bolts into the cement of one side and the metal frame of the other.

The end result was a blocked wooden door, and a melted metal frame.

I passed out.

When I woke, it took me a moment to remember where I was...and then I sat up like a shot. It was so fast that my head immediately swam and I fell back, only to realize that my head had been on his legs. Blinking up at him, I sat up again—this time more slowly—and looked around. We were still in the basement, and the doors were still blocked.

“You weren’t out for long,” he answered the question I hadn’t asked. “If they’re still trying to get in, it’s been quietly. I haven’t heard anything for a while now.”

I rubbed my eyes, which still hurt, and then dug my phone out of my pocket. I realized it hadn’t broken when I fell. Unfortunately, there was no signal down here either. I knew I had gotten my call out, but where were they?

“I can’t tell if this means I’m good at my job or really bad,” I quipped with a half-smirk, rubbing my neck. I looked around at the small basement. There were two windows, less than twelve inches high, toward the very top. I wondered why they hadn’t tried breaking them in, but then I remembered how many plants were growing around the foundation. Maybe they couldn’t see them.

“I’m not dead,” he replied. “Or at least not in a more permanent state of death. That’s something.”

I chuckled. It was something.

I heard the sirens about fifteen minutes later, right about the time I began doubting I’d actually talked to anyone in the first place. I heard some shouting, then someone tried to open the door, and then someone banged on the windows. I grabbed my gun, just in case, but heard my boss’s voice shouting through a few minutes later and let out a breath of relief.

“How well can a vampire move a pile of fractured cement?” I asked him with a tired smirk.

Despite their best attempts, Ben Collins made it to court and gave his testimony. The defense attorney tried to trip him up, but they really do give you a Cool, Calm and Collected spell when you become a vampire. He tripped over nothing and just glided through, totally together. I still didn’t know him that well, but I couldn’t help but feel a little proud.

Ben would remain under guard until the trial ended, but we were betting that LOHAV wouldn’t try as hard now that he had testified. Revenge was an issue, but a little less of one. We moved him to a new safe house, and there was an investigation—separate to my protective detail—to find out how they’d learned the two addresses. We suspected a leak, but that was my boss’s problem...until they showed up at our door again.

While Ben sat at the corner of the couch reading a book, I sat at the small dining table with my boss.

“So, do I get that DPA wiped off my record for a job well done?” I asked with a half-smile as I nodded back at Ben. I glanced over and saw him lift his eyes, smiling over the edge of the open novel.

“Yes,” my boss replied, to my surprise. “Only to add two more.”

“Oh, come on!” I exclaimed. She gave me The Look. I sighed and then smiled weakly. “At least I didn’t shoot anyone?”