32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
Argus “Headmaster” Xavier
Extra Precautions and a Dwindling Tolerance for the Help
My cellular device vibrates once on the stone table beside me.
A low hum fills the chamber, the sound of generators pushing power through cables that run like veins along the ceiling.
Every light down here flickers from time to time.
Nothing ever runs clean in the underworld.
It’s a place built from forgotten tunnels and abandoned infrastructure, the type of place only the desperate, the powerful, or the foolish choose to occupy.
I’m not desperate or foolish, but I decide to pick up the phone. “Kalevala,” I say, before she has the chance to purr my name in that theatrical way of hers. “Tell me why you are calling me unprovoked. I have work to do and I am all but aware of your latest antics.”
Her voice bleeds through the speaker, sweet and smug. “I thought you might want an update. Our little human pet is getting ready for something. She’s been pacing around her bedroom, fussing with her hair. I haven’t yet determined the purpose.”
She hasn’t determined the purpose. But she is more than capable of seeing the future.
I lean back in my chair. The old wood cracks faintly beneath my weight.
Around me, the monitors glow a cold blue, casting shadows across the room.
Footage from above ground streams across them.
City streets. Entrances to known nests. Dusty stairwells that lead down into safehouses most humans will never know exist. I don’t take my eyes off them when I speak.
I have slowly started adding to my collection of additional eyes over the growing months since Kalevala has proven herself useless.
We were never meant to be glued to such atrocities all the time.
“You have not yet determined the purpose because you have the observational skills of a feral bat,” I say. “If you had even the slightest sense, you would realize she’s preparing for something very obvious. Your powers are useless.”
A pause. Her inhale is sharp. “I would watch your tone,” Kalevala replies. “I will never exist to be exclusively your errand dog.”
“You exist to perform the task I assigned you,” I say, voice hard.
“You fail at it with spectacular consistency.” I hear her shift, cloth brushing against the phone as she moves.
She is usually perched somewhere always.
On a roof, or a rafter, or a ledge where she can pretend she is above everyone else.
Pathetic. One of my men now tells me that she is occupying a nearby home and has regretfully kept me uninformed.
Whose side is she on here other than her own?
“She was alone for weeks,” Kalevala says coldly. “The human was isolated, predictable, vulnerable. I have done everything exactly as you instructed.”
“Not everything,” I say. “Not last night. You cannot keep anything from me, Kalevala. I have eyes everywhere. I know what you’ve done.” Silence again. Heavier this time.
The air down here is murky. Copper pipes run along the walls, sweating cold condensation.
The process gives the chamber a faint scent of rust. Or blood, depending on the imagination.
My fingers tap once against the table, a quiet reprimand.
“You thought that little display outside Beau’s speakeasy went unnoticed,” I continue.
“You truly are dense, much to my surprise. You refuse to follow orders, not to my surprise.”
Her hiss crackles through the line. “That was nothing,” she spits. “He’s a coward. A docile relic pretending to live a human life. I wanted him to remember his place. Remember what he is.”
“His place,” I repeat slowly. “My prodigy, your future headmaster. You mean the place where he wasn’t supposed to know you’re involved? The place where he should have remained unaware of any of this? The place where you didn’t blow our carefully constructed anonymity to satisfy your personal ego?”
“He has no idea I’m connected to you,” she argues. She doesn’t deny it. Smart girl. I’m catching on to her vindictive plan that undermines me.
“You confronted him,” I say. “Outside his home. Outside his work. Right outside his safe haven. You let him sense your hunger and your interest. You let him walk away with information he was never meant to have. And now,” I lower my voice, “you’re surprised I somehow found out.
” I hear her breath catch, but she doesn’t answer.
“Do you truly think I didn’t receive the reports?
” I ask. “Beau’s hunger spiked beyond containment before your run-in.
He tore through half the medical reserves in that loft of his.
He was inches away from giving in to instinct when you stopped by.
You were on the back-end of a nearly forced uncontrolled feeding.
He was going to her. Could’ve killed her for us. ”
“He wouldn’t have touched her. It’s not even a true bond. He’s a lost fucking puppy and the first piece that he thinks might want a stupid relationship with him, he jumps at.” Kalevala says quickly. “Besides the point, do you or do you not want us together? Ruling together.”
“You know nothing,” I say. “You never have. And you will continue to know nothing if you don’t stop letting your jealousy rot your brain and if you fail to stick to the plan.”
Her tone turns icy. “I am not jealous. I do not get jealous.”
“No,” I drawl. “You are obsessed. You are my problem. There’s a difference, though not one that you’ll favor.
If he had fed on you, he would’ve thrown you to the side and had his clean-up crew take care of you.
If he had fed on Elowen, he probably would’ve killed her.
Taking care of our problem. Use your brain for once, if you even have one.
” I stand, stretching my back as I walk toward the far end of the chamber.
The ancient brick walls tighten into a narrow corridor filled with old sigils carved deep into stone.
The original builders used blood to paint them.
Now they are dry and dark, but they still carry weight.
I run a hand along one, feeling the grooves press into my fingertips.
“This mission operates on precision,” I say.
“An inch in the wrong direction can unravel everything. Your spectacle with Beau last night was exactly that. A spectacle. A tantrum in the street.”
“I am not a child,” she snaps.
“You behave like one,” I reply. “He rejected you initially, don’t think I don’t know, and instead of moving on, you circle him like a vulture.” A tiny growl vibrates through the phone. “I assure you,” I continue, “if you keep interfering with him you will not enjoy the consequences.”
She is silent for several breaths before she forces herself to speak again.
“So you care about his feelings now?” she asks bitterly.
“How sentimental. Weren’t you just a moment ago plotting to kill his alleged sino?
Should I bring him flowers next time I see him?
Sign the card from the headmaster himself?
” I stop walking. The chamber seems to deepen around me, shadows stretching longer along the floor.
“I don’t care about his feelings,” I yell.
“I care about the fact that he is bonded to a human. Elowen is on a turning point of becoming an even bigger problem. You do not touch her unless the universe decides to whisk her away on its own. You do not threaten Beau. You do not provoke him. In the end, we may very well need her. He is my heir, no matter who stands next to him. He is next. Why can’t you see the overall mission?
You will eliminate any personal inclination you have toward him or I will eliminate it for you. ”
She laughs softly, but there is no confidence behind it now. “You are so sure of your authority,” she says. “So certain you can control every variable.”
“I can,” I say. “And I will.” I hear the faint rustle of fabric again, as if she adjusts her posture, defensive now.
“She’ll be leaving the house soon,” Kalevala mutters. “I’ll follow her.”
“No,” I correct. “No presence she can sense. They are already suspicious enough. Beau knows you’ve been watching. It won’t be long until Elowen figures it out too. No shadow she can look at twice. Do you understand me?”
A long pause. “Yes,” she answers quietly.
“Good,” I say. “And Kalevala?”
“Yes.”
“If you ever approach Beau again without a direct order, I will bury you in the concrete of this city and no one will dig you out.” The line goes dead.
I lower the phone slowly and slip it into my pocket. The underworld hums around me, alive with unseen movement. Water drips through cracks in the far tunnel. Machinery rumbles somewhere high below. The shadows flicker with faint shapes that are not entirely human.
Everything continues. Everything moves according to plan. Almost.
I look toward the monitors again, toward the tiny square where Elowen’s bedroom glows in soft morning light.
She’s fixing her hair, adjusting her clothes, smiling at something unseen on her phone.
She’s getting ready for him. A human girl preparing for a vampire who doesn’t yet understand what he’s about to lose himself to. If he hasn’t already.
The mission will proceed. It must, but I feel the edges shifting, grinding against the design.