Dave kept silent. He was soaking up the salty ocean air, the rumbling tide, and distant seagulls’ cries.
Albert shook his white head. “It’s a mess, what happened to you. The transition is hard enough as it is, but when it’s against your will, and what with your girlfriend and all… I’m sorry it happened to you. But even if you disagree with it at the moment, it is a gift. This power you have now—it’s a responsibility.”
“I didn’t ask for this responsibility,” Dave snapped, sounding harsher than he meant. But the strange alien presence inside him had chosen that moment to stir, and it made him twitchy.
Albert gave him a long, narrow-eyed look. “A lot of things happen without our asking. But denial will do you no good. I’m not gonna lecture you, just answer whatever questions you have. But if I can give you just one piece of advice, it’s to give yourself time. Don’t do anything rash or stupid. And, for God’s sake, don’t hurt anyone, or it’ll only get worse.”
Dave couldn’t hold back a skeptical snort. It couldn’t get any worse than this.
Albert continued, “We all think we’re on our own in our grief, and no one can really understand our loss. But I lost my girl too, and that’s the only reason I’m telling you this.
“You and I are different like day and night, born in different centuries and turned in different circumstances. But my Maggie was the best damn thing that ever happened to me, and I bet that’s one thing we have in common.”
Dave inwardly grunted in agreement.
“We’d been married for fifty-five years when I lost her. And I thought I wouldn’t be able to go on, but here I am. Wouldn’t want to piss off the gods by taking my own life, and if they haven’t taken me yet, there must still be some good I can do in this world. And you,” the old man said, turning to look Dave in the eyes, “you haven’t even started.”
He clapped a hand on Dave’s shoulder and got up, working out the kinks in his joints.
“There’s a lot to talk about, but we’ve got plenty of time.” The old man scratched his head, as if he’d lost his train of thought. “I’ll come by in the morning so we can see what we can do about that power of yours. Shoved it pretty deep down, I see. For now, I’ll keep your friends off your back. Just don’t do anything stupid here on your own. Don’t make me regret bringing you to my favorite spot.”
The man kept grumbling as he walked away, leaving Dave to stare into the darkness, confused beyond imagination.
Only when Albert had gone did Dave realize how many questions he had for him. The old man had never said how he’d been turned, and how he and his wife had kept his age a secret all those years, with her aging and him probably looking the same for decades. But most of all, he tried to imagine what it would be like to have fifty-five years with Elena, only to lose her when he still had half a life left to live.
He turned back to the black expanse of the ocean, his face wet from tears that, for once, were not for him and Elena.
* * *
Peter woke up at the sound of his cell phone buzzing on the nightstand.
With his bedroom pitch-dark, the glowing screen blinded him for a second. Rob. There could only be one reason for him to call this number this late.
Peter frowned, accepting the call. “Yes?”
Rob didn’t waste breath on greetings. “Shots fired at the Commandos’ base.”
Peter’s heart stammered in his chest. It can’t be.
“Now? Are you sure?” he hissed into the phone.
“Positive. I just got here and heard it myself. It’s been a few minutes.”
“What about the camera? Did anyone go in?”
“No. There must be another way in.”
Peter swore, pushing the covers back and swinging his legs off the bed.
He had expected a call tonight. The Commandos leaving the place, or Martin’s men snooping about—that he’d been prepared for. But the Eagles storming the base tonight, without any preparation?
He looked at the clock—it had only been four hours since Martin left. They’d have needed a couple of hours just to find another way in, however far it was from the base.
“Peter?” Rob’s voice brought him back. “Should we go in?”
“No.” Peter cleared his throat. “Keep watching. Pull in as many men as you need to cover the whole area. Send—” He bit off the rest of the sentence, Send a couple men to keep an eye on the Eagles’ base. He couldn’t risk anyone knowing it was them before time. He’d have to do it himself. “Call Rooney. Street cams, drones, he knows the drill.”
“Roger that.”
“That’s all for now. Call me if anything changes.”
Peter hung up, his heart racing. Never in a thousand years would he have imagined Martin rushing into this, with his experience and training.
“What’s wrong?”
He stiffened, remembering he wasn’t alone in bed.
“Nothing,” he murmured as he got up. “Go back to sleep.”
Peter grabbed his cell phone and clothes, padding out of the room.
His gear chilled his skin as he slipped into it and strapped his twin blades onto his back. He’d never hear the end of it if he were caught snooping about the Eagles’ base. And if anything happened to Martin, and Marco ever found out Peter had leaked the intel to his father…
Please don’t let him get killed like the reckless idiot that he is, he prayed, pulling up his mask.
He climbed out
