The Art of Healing Heroes
Chapter One
1985
The Order
recruited Michael two years ago, a kid with scarred knuckles and the stomach
for a thousand fights. Born and raised on the more colorful streets of London
“Ah, Thirteen,
good. You saved me the effort of finding you later. Since you’re the resident
Agent on staff, I want you to take an active part in the training of these new
recruits,” the Director said.
“Yes, sir.”
Great—just what Mike wanted to do—babysitting. The boss introduced him to
the kids by their new designations.
“Thirteen? You
jinxed or something?” the blonde called Nine said. Jean jacket, matching
miniskirt, a golden tan, and mischief and attitude in her eyes. They’d
brought in Malibu Barbie. She smacked her gum.
“It’s just a
number,” he said, and stuck his key in the lock to his room.
“To some people.
So, like, are we going to be like James Bond? Do we get to meet the Queen? Or ooo,
Princess Diana?”
Southern California
“No.” He
looked for the boss to corral the children away, but he and Miss California
“Why?”
“Because vampires
come out at night, why do you think? You’re supposed to stick with the tour.
Shoo.”
“But—”
He shut the door
in her face and flipped the bolt. Quiet. Pieces of gear and
body armor dropped to the floor on his path to the bed. He flopped down
face first and fell asleep.
Though Mike was
only eighteen, he felt ancient next to these fresh-faced buggers The Order let
in. Aged fifteen-to-seventeen, they weren’t really “kids” to him in the
chronological sense, but they had no clue what they were up against. This
particular batch had never seen a vampire, demon, ghost, werewolf, or any other
monster other than on a movie screen. Left him with a lot of
misconceptions to clear up. Oh, The Order put every recruit through a
rigorous training program in and out of classrooms, but these kids seemed to
save every question for him, the Agent.
The job wasn’t
nearly as exciting as they thought it would be. He spent more nights
watching than fighting, and when he did find prey, The Order wanted it taken
from a distance whenever possible. Though Agents were more than your
average human, they were still very mortal and facing far faster and stronger
foes. Their job was to outwit the beasts, not engage them.
Mike didn’t fear
vampires. The most special thing about every Agent was their innate
ability to burn the undead on contact like holy water. Vampire touched
his skin, no more vampire. It was how he’d been identified at sixteen in
an alley where he should’ve been lunch. Most of The Order thought it was
mystical. He figured it was an act of evolution. Mankind’s genetic
fight against the perils of the dark.
See, most of the
myths and legends held a grain of truth, at least as far back as human records
went. Some things came from other dimensions; others rose up with
humanity. Some might’ve even been on Earth before us. Didn’t matter
at the end of the day when they were dead at your feet.
Leaving the
martial arts to Sensei, Mike took the recruits to the firing range.
“Since we’re underground, anything up to a .50 cal can be fired in here.”
“Fifty cal what?”
Nine, the Malibu
“Point-five-zero
caliber bullet, Recruit. Save all questions for after the demonstration.”
Just being in the same room with her got under his skin. Every day, she
pestered him with questions. Every day, she’d made some smart remark
undermining his authority. Every day, the pink gloss on her full lips was
a distraction.
He hated having to
touch her to correct how she held every weapon. Being that close filled
his nose with the scent of all the products she used too much of. He
should order her to shower and come back with none of it. Scent gave them
away to half their prey. At the end of their time in the range, he said
it.
“You. Nine. Don’t
come back to a single class until you wash all that shit off.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re a walking
beacon of humanity to every nasty outside this building. Vanity will get you
killed, little girl. I’m sure I’m not the only instructor to tell you this, so
clean up your act or prepare to send your kit to your parents with a note apologizing
for being dead because you were stupid.”
“How dare you.”
“I don’t
mollycoddle, Recruit. You wanna be a pampered princess, go home.”
“Who are you to
talk with your stupid Billy Idol hair sticking straight up?”
“This is how I
roll out of bed, thank you very much.”
“With white hair? Please.”
“The difference is
I don’t leave my room smelling like bleach…bitch.”
“Asshole.”
He towered over
her. “Damn straight. I’m not nice. Can’t afford to be. Newsflash,
Princess—they’ll come for you whether you bail or not. It’s your job to be
prepared.”
“For what?”
He grabbed her
arm. “I’ll show you.”
Dragging her
through the halls, he swiped his access card at the stairwell and took her to
the level below.
To the cells.
He held up his
badge to the security clerk at the desk and kept going until they reached an
occupied cell. The vampire launched at the electrified clear wall only to
yelp at the jolt that brought it up short. It roared at them, red eyes
and fangs exposed.
“Oh my God.”
Nine hid behind Mike. “What is that?”
“That, is a
vampire.” He took her shoulders and turned her around. “So is
that.” This one was female, wearing the clothes of a prostitute.
“And that is a poor bastard infected with the Lycan virus.”
“The what?”
“He’s a werewolf
three days of the month.” They approached the cage with a man curled in a
ball, only dressed in a torn pair of shorts. “They stay until they can
control the transformation. Be trusted in the outside world. Until we can cure
the disease, infection has to be limited.”
“How does it
spread?”
“Bites or blood
contact. Carried in bodily fluids.”
“Can they infect
you?”
“Agents? Yeah,
anyone human. Blighters aren’t aware of what they are most of the time, so they
do things during the full moon they don’t remember.”
“So The Order
helps them?”
“It’s our job.
Look…we do two things: save the helpless and kill evil nasties. Call it
destiny, a calling, what-have-you, but the world needs people to do the hard
shit and that’s us. And if you can’t handle that, you’ll still have to stay.
You’re a danger to your family or any place you haunt long term.”
“Why? Why can’t I
go home?”
He sighed and led
her back to the elevator. “Because we’re like magnets for the
supernatural. Nature runs on a balance, see, and they outnumber us.”
“The agents.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Don’t have to.
It’s what the brain trust says. Just know, if you don’t find them, they’ll find
you. It’s inevitable.”
“So no one can
quit? I’m stuck with this?”
“Until death,
sweetheart.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Life has never
been fair. Get to class. You’re already late enough.” Mike pushed her out
of the elevator and continued up to street level, and outside.
He lit a cigarette
and walked to his favorite pub. The boss would chew him out for taking a
recruit to a restricted area, but she needed to know this wasn’t a
fairytale. The others took it on faith or didn’t have the balls to speak
up, but Nine was trouble.
Maybe he’d follow
a lead out of town. Head north for a while, or over the Channel.
Dealing with snot-nosed newbies every day made London
If the boss would
let him leave.
“Out of the
question. We need a presence in London
“Then rotate
someone else in.”
“Who would you
suggest, Agent Thirteen? You think the others have nothing to do?”
“Of course not—”
“Then the subject
is closed.”
“Sir—”
“Dismissed.”
“Dammit, sir, hear
me out—”
“Dismissed,
Agent, or you’ll find yourself on latrine duty!”
Mike
saluted. “Sir.”
And left the
office. Bullheaded son-of-a-bitch-stick-up-his-arse—
“Hey. I heard the
yelling.” Nine, again.
“What are you
doing up here?”
“Sneaking out.”
He blinked. Didn’t
expect her to admit the truth so plainly. “Um, no.”
“Come with
me.” She skipped off down the hall. Where was she going?
She’d figured out
where the roof access was. “You’re not going—” Bloody hell.
Later, he’d wonder
why he didn’t grab her to stop her from leaving.
Later still, he’d
wonder why he followed her out of the building and into the night.
Currently, it was
the gentlemanly thing to do, to keep her safe. Young girls were bait,
especially ones dressed in a halter top and mini she’d hidden under her
uniform. Once down the fire escape, she’d stripped out of the sweats, put
her coat back on, and stashed the ball of cloth in a dark corner.
“Do this often?”
he asked.
“Here? Nah. First
time I could get away.”
“Home, then.”
“My parents never
check if I’m in bed after I go to my room. Why shouldn’t I take advantage and
have some fun? Only young once.” She grinned up at him. “You
must’ve done the same before all this.”
“Do you have any
idea where you’re going?”
She stopped
short. “Actually, no. Point me to the nearest club?” She batted her
eyelashes.
He rolled his
eyes. “Come on.” Against his better judgment, maybe letting her
dance the night away would get some of this rebellion out of her system and
she’d leave him in peace.
Flagging a cab, he
asked for the nearest, cheapest hole with music. The working class crowd
would probably offend the Princess’ sensibilities, but that could work in his
favor. She’d never bother sneaking out again. An ounce of
prevention and all that…
Too bad the bloody
chit liked to bounce to anything with a fast beat. Her nose wrinkled up
until the next song played and suddenly she shoved her coat into his arms and
got lost in the crowd of sweaty bodies. Annoying little bitch. He
stalked around the perimeter of the dance floor looking for an opening to get
to her, senses sharp to any predators in building.
But there were no
vampires. The only predator was her, Nine, a Siren in a sea of
humanity. Mike couldn’t keep his eyes off the way her hips swayed and
twitched to the music. She danced with her eyes half-closed, hands in the
air, her breasts jiggling without the aid of a bra. Such perky little
tits, too, becoming more obvious when her top stuck to perspiring skin.
Turning her back to him, her ass wiggled to the beat below her bare back.
No tan lines on all that skin.
He never would’ve
known without bringing her here.
The first night,
he only watched her dance.
She haunted his
dreams after that, then his waking hours, flirting and teasing and always just
out of reach, until one day they ended up sparring alone in the dojo.
Somehow, he ended
up on his back.
Somehow, her lips
touched his.
Fervent kisses
were snuck here, a little heavy petting there, until they could hardly be in
the same room without wanting to touch skin and shove each other’s tongues down
their throats.
Mike was in love.
Sometime in
January 1986, the tension was too much, and they snuck out again with a
different destination in mind. London
Unlocking and
opening the door, he said, “Happy birthday, love.” Nothing special, but
it was clean with a queen-size bed.
She pushed his
coat off his shoulders. “Food later.”
They made love for
the first time that night. First time for either of them—well, his first,
and he was pretty sure she wasn’t experienced, too. Her hands had shaken
when she pulled his belt from the loops and unfastened his trousers.
Undressing her, he found fading tan lines from a string bikini bottom and
nothing else under her dress. Nerves didn’t get in the way of her taking
him in hand and tugging him toward the bed. His fearless girl. He
didn’t last long the first time, then made up for it.
Nine gave him her
real name on her birthday. Bethany
After eating cold
dumplings and chow mein, Mike snuck her back into HQ. She was supposed to
be in bed, and him out hunting.
Sneaking around
worked great until she told him she was pregnant. The most dreaded words
every eighteen-year-old lad could hear. “What?”
“It’s all your
fault!”
“My fault? Takes
two, sweetheart.”
“I’m only sixteen.
This can’t be happening. My mother will kill me. It’s your fault!”
“How in hell is it
my fault?”
“Because! Because
you’re older and hot and…and…seduced me!”
“You kissed
me. You asked me to get a room for your birthday. You
undid my fly. Thought they put you girls on the Pill.”
“Well apparently
it doesn’t work!”
“Stop screaming
at me.”
“I can’t help it.
I’m scared.” Then the tears started. He gathered her in his
arms. Couldn’t stand to see her cry.
“Shh. It’s not the
end of the world. Have you taken a test?”
She sniffed.
“I’ve missed two periods.”
Shit.
“Why didn’t you say somethin’ after the first one?”
“‘Cause it’s
happened before. The first year I had my period.”
“So maybe you’re—”
“No. I feel
different. Oh god…what are we gonna do?” She looked up at him with those
big eyes, begging him to have all the answers.
“What do you
want?”
“To still be at
home like none of this was real.”
Ouch. But
she didn’t mean him. She couldn’t. “Denial won’t solve—”
“I know. God. I
don’t know. It’s too scary, Mike.”
“If…if you go to
term, the baby should go somewhere safe. Our life isn’t—”
“Obviously. God,
this is fucked up. Why aren’t you freaking out?”
He loved
her. “I am, love.”
“It doesn’t show.”
“Training.”
“I think we should
stop seeing each other for a while. This…this might not last, and we don’t need
to get in trouble for a false alarm.”
“Bethany
“Not that. I mean
the secret times. Someone might catch on.” She pulled away. “Just
give me space. Pretend, okay?”
She left before he
replied. He’d let her calm down. Get a grip. Keep calm and
carry on. She loved him. This was just a bump in the road.
Born in August,
Hope was a preemie. Michael named her. Bethany California Bethany
He looked up at Bethany
“I don’t have a
bottle.”
“You have nature’s
bottle.”
“I don’t want it
chewing on me.” She wouldn’t look at him.
“’Chewing on you’?
Giving our daughter milk is what your tits were made for.”
“I’m too tired.
Take her away.”
A nurse took Hope
from him and put her in a pram to go wherever they put newborns. Someone
else wheeled Bethany
They cast him out
of the only life he’d known for three years. Gave him his walking orders
and stripped him of all but his personal belongings. A duffle bag, a bank
account, and a passport were all he had in the world the day after Hope was
born. Should’ve expected it, really. He’d never been a favorite at
HQ and the Director had a soft spot for the girls. Looked at them like
daughters. Perhaps the old man had one.
He wrote letters
to Bethany
Found her mother
easy enough, though. Looked in on Christmas and birthdays. Hope was
always happy to see him and the missus was kind.
2002
He traveled
anywhere that would make use of his skills, human or supernatural, until 1999
when she called him. Bethany
The very ex-lover
that beat his face in tonight.
No, she wasn’t a
big bruiser of a woman. That would be less humiliating, but he got this
way because he didn’t fight back. Seemed like a good idea at the time.
He faded in and
out of consciousness. His face was massively swollen on one side, his
left eye forced shut, and the back of his head bled from repeated impact with
the asphalt.
Bruised from the
waist up.
The location
didn’t matter. His job concerned street names and sewer tunnels more than
city borders. It all looked the same at night, anyway.
It was a long
story…
Their
thirteen-year-old daughter was too much to handle. Asking hard questions
and acting out. And they needed money. Bethany
He settled as near
to them as he could afford. He’d visited Hope before, but Bethany
Only civil parents
here until last fall, she took some news hard in the
doing-things-you-shouldn’t-in-the-dark kind of way.
Sometimes alcohol.
Sometimes drugs.
Sometimes him.
She’d always had his number and he’d do anything to ease her pain.
Even let her kill
him.
****
January 2002
Corinne turned
down the alley to walk to her car parked behind the building.
“Oh my God!”
She rushed to an injured man on the ground. “Sir, can you hear me?”
He didn’t respond, so she took out her phone to dial 911. “I need an ambu—”
A pale calloused
hand clamped around her wrist, bringing the phone down from her ear.
“No hospitals,” he
croaked.
“Listen, buddy—you
need medical care. I’m pretty positive you have broken bones and a strong
concussion.”
The man opened his
good eye. “Really, I’ve ‘ad worse. Just need to get home and I’ll be
fine,” he rasped. He tried to sit up.
“Look…” She
pushed him back down.
“Mike.”
“Mike. I’m a
doctor, okay? I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
He tried to get up
again, but he was too dizzy to push her out of the way.
“Don’t be so
stubborn! I bet you can’t even walk straight in your condition. My car is
behind the building. Let me pull it around and take you home…please?”
He gave a tiny
nod. She smiled and hurried off.
She pulled up in a
late-model import, headlights off, and ran around the front to open the
passenger door, then went to help him.
“Okay, we’re just
going to take our time and do this nice and easy,” she said. “It’s only a
few feet, but don’t be afraid to tell me if you need to stop.”
“Yes, Doc.”
They moved in
stages, getting him to sit up, then rise on his knees, then put one foot on the
ground, and the other. Finally, he was in the car, and his eyelids were
drooping.
She smacked the
back of his hand. “Hey! You can’t sleep, yet. Head trauma like this, you
could slip into a coma.” She ran around to the driver’s seat.
“I didn’t lose
consciousness. It’s just bruises.”
“How do you know
for sure—”
“It wouldn’t be my
first concussion. I just need to get home.”
She frowned, then
handed him her phone. “I’d feel better if someone watched over you
tonight. Is there a friend you can call?”
He scowled,
punched in the numbers, and pressed “send”. “Pete…yeah, can you be at my
place in around ten? Thanks, mate. I’ll explain later.” He closed the
phone with a grimace and handed it back to her. “There, you happy?”
“Don’t have to get
snippy. I’m just trying to be a good doctor.”
“Sorry. I’m not at
my best,” he muttered.
“It’s okay. I’ve
had worse patients. Where am I heading?”
“Sunrise Hotel.”
“Oh. Do you…like
it there?” She wanted to keep him talking.
“It’s not too bad.
Have a proper bed and everything. Electricity, too.”
“That’s good.”
“So…why aren’t
you…?” He waved his hands in the air to simulate a panicking person.
“Freaking
out?” She shrugged. “I’ve seen worse during an ER rotation, and
you’re in too bad a shape to be much threat to me. Were you mugged?”
“Something like
that.”
She soon found the
motel. “Is your room close to the street?”
“Not exactly. I
think I can manage, though, all the same. My legs are fine.”
“You’re going to
need help getting inside.” He was wheezing.
“As you wish.”
With his
equilibrium shot, they meandered about like a couple of drunks while she tried
to keep him upright. “A fine pair we make.”
“Yeah, yeah—laugh
it up,” he huffed, scowling down at her. “Ow. Expressions hurt.”
“Just a little bit
farther, and I’ll get you fixed up.” She patted the kit slung over her
shoulder.
They got the door
unlocked and she turned on the light. He sunk into a chair.
She set the tackle
box down and opened it up, revealing a lot more than Band-Aids and rubbing
alcohol.
“Quite a stash you
have there, Doc.”
“I got my EMT cert
before going to med school.” She ripped open a pack of antiseptic
wipes. “I always travel prepared. This might sting.” She applied
the pad to the cut over his eye.
“Yeow! Might?
Bloody hell, woman!”
“Sorry,” she said,
wincing. “Once I get you cleaned up, then I can numb this before I stitch
the cut. Just try to take deep breaths and focus on something pleasant.”
He closed his eyes
and let her work.
“Mike?”
“Hmm?” He
opened his good eye.
“I’m going to feel
around your face for fractures.”
“Alright. Do what
you need to.” He gripped the armrests.
“That’s better,”
she murmured. “I need to lift your eyelid and check your eye.” She
reached for a tiny flashlight.
He was about to
respond when a man burst through the door.
“Sorry I’m late!
My mother called just as I was out the door. Hi! I’m Pete. Is this a bad
time?”
He was huge, and,
sorry to say, one of the ugliest people she’d ever seen.
She blinked and
shook her head. “That’s your friend?” she asked Mike.
“He’s harmless.
Aren’t you, mate?”
Pete closed the
door and walked inside. “Oh, yeah! Anybody want some Cheetos?” He
held up a new bag.
She shook her head
and resumed her doctoring. Mike hissed when she pried open his eye,
shining the pen light on his pupil. He tried to jerk away from the bright
light, so she released his face.
“A couple broken
blood vessels, but the eye appears okay. Do you have any ice?”
“Check the
fridge.”
She got up to
look. Pete looked at his friend. “Whoa, buddy! What attacked you
tonight?”
“Here’s the
ice.” She tossed it to Pete.
“Looks worse than
it is, mate,” he replied, glancing away.
“I need to wrap
your ribs.” She picked up a pair of scissors to cut his t-shirt off.
“Whoa! You’re not
cuttin’ into my clothes.”
“It needs to come
off and I doubt you can raise your arms.”
He pulled the
fabric up to his armpits with his right hand and sat forward. “Just do it
this way.”
She sighed, set
her biggest roll of gauze on his lap, then grabbed her stethoscope to listen to
him breathe. With his breathing only labored from the pain, she got to
work binding his chest. His torso was covered in faint scars.
Recent bruises stood out more vividly. While not a big man, he was
well-built and she wondered what he did for a living. Walking behind him,
she spotted the blood on the back of his head and cleaned up the damage after
securing the gauze.
“If we’re done
playing doctor, I’d like to get some rest.”
“Uh, sure.”
She packed her supplies and handed him a bottle of pills. “These are for
the pain. Follow the directions.”
“Doc…I’m grateful,
really. No one’s…well, let’s just say few people would have gone to so much
trouble for me. Thank you.”
She patted his
shoulder. “Don’t mention it. Just doing my job.” She slid the strap
over her shoulder and made for the door. Her hand was on the handle when
he spoke.
“Hey, Doc. What’s
your name?”
“Corinne. Corinne
Larkin. Goodnight, Mike. Nice to meet you, Pete.”
She left, quietly
closing the door.
“Nice girl,” Pete
said. “For a human.” He sat down facing Mike. “Wanna tell me
what happened?”
“Not
particularly.” He sighed. “Want to sleep for a week.”
Pete knew not to
press, and helped his friend without another word.
Once Mike was
settled in bed, Pete sat watch in the chair.
No one would get a
chance to sneak in and finish the job.
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