Chapter Thirty-Six: Jack

Nervousness.

I know that I’m definitely feeling it. The stress of going out on a date with a beautiful woman. A thrill I haven’t partaken in in many years. So, now sat opposite Madison, with a glass of wine in front of her and a beer for me, wining and dining the way it was meant to be done. A perfect gentleman escorting his lovely lady for the evening. Now I know I’m nervous. I feel the strung-up tension building inside. Holding me down. Weighing heavily on every decision I make. I was once good at this, but life sucks that away eventually.

Madison on the other hand. She doesn’t seem nervous. Her usual soft, placid features, replaced with a sterner expression. She’s laughed and played with all night. Through the entire dinner. A beautifully cooked rare steak with a baked potato beside a small garden salad and chicken for her. I’ve always been a man that’s stuck to a routine at restaurants. No matter the disappointments I’ve faced and no doubt will face again, the choices are either steaks or burgers. Simple as that.

Now? She seems too serious for how the night and our relationship up to this point have been. A dark brooding that’s bubbled to the surface. I can’t help but worry. This could mean something very interesting regarding the case or something interesting regarding us.

“Is everything alright?” I ask. My voice cracks midway through the sentence. I’m tense and nervous. I can’t relax.

“No,” she replies. I know if it had something to do with her case she would have come to me. Could it have anything to do with Victor? I wonder a plethora of endless issues that seem to come to a stop when she opens her mouth to continue. “I’m upset, Jack. I didn’t think I was, and I thought the Agency could cure me of my feelings toward what happened with my parents, but it can’t.”

Right. Now I know where this is going, and I’m readying for a full-on tongue lashing. I keep quiet. She’s on the verge of tears. Her hand has clasped her wine glass so tightly that one more ounce of force will snap it at the stem. A mix of sadness and rage. The worst state to be in when confronting your demons.

“You flew me across the globe to my childhood home, where I was eager and excited to bring a smile back to the faces of my parents who long ago must have thought I was dead, only to tell me that they were dead. You drew out a process that would have taken two minutes here.” I listen and nod in agreement. That was a very stupid thing to do, but how can you shatter someone’s entire world like that.

“Listen,” I say, and she goes quiet, “I only did that because I thought the possible nostalgia may be a reasonable coping mechanism.” She wipes under her eye to stop tears from falling.

“A reasonable coping mechanism? You’ll scar someone for life like that. You did it intentionally, and it wasn’t just wrong; it was cruel. It was spiteful, and it was a pathetic move on your end. Now? You’re trying to suck up to me with fancy dinners and a couple of charming quotes I’m pretty sure you stole from rom-coms. I’ve been watching a lot of those lately, so I know that they all sound exactly the same. Just another cliché.” The tears have not subsided. Firey anger burns from inside.

“So, what? What do you want from me? I’m sorry, okay?” I apologize. “And I might be quoting movies, but the intentions are there.” That was the wrong thing to say.

“The intentions were there? That’s what you’ve got to say? You can’t actually take me out for a nice time, just the two of us, and come up with one original compliment?” I know the anger about the movie quotes is only hiding the truth about what she previously mentioned. I drink my beer, finish, and go back into listening to what she has to say. She’s said nothing. Instead, downed her wine in the same way.

“I know you must–”

“No, you listen here,” she cuts me off with the conviction only a woman can have, “this is not going to work. This isn’t one of the movies. It’s not that simple. Things don’t just go away. Your actions have consequences, and they won’t just be replaced by a charming smile and an apology. We work together. We’re not friends. We’re not the ‘will they, won’t they’ couple. We’re just colleagues. You’re my boss, and I’m an employee.”

“That’s it, huh?” I wave my hand in the air to the waiter, gesturing that he brings us the check. “Then so be it. We’ll go to strictly professional.”

I should have seen that coming. It was foolish to even try something like this. How could it work? She hasn’t experienced the world. All she’s got is what she learned in some vampire’s dream construction of paradise.

“Good,” I don’t know if she’s regretting the decision right off the bat. She’s turned sullen. That could be that she just brought up a good deal of memories that were repressed for whatever duration, stirring and bubbling to the surface until this collapse.

And then, my phone rings.

“Yes,” I reply. On the end of the line is Allan, an intelligence agent.

“The war’s on. The vampires are hitting the forest and ripping them to shreds. We need you back here to give the orders to the agents. We need to contain this. We don’t need any more bad press in this town,” he nearly shouts.

“Got it. Give me twenty,” I reply, putting the phone down. “Speaking of work. The vampires’ big strike on the wolves has begun.” I’m upset. Very much so. She is, too, but if she was serious about business being business, then this wouldn’t affect anything. Right now, we need all hands on deck.

I pay the bill, and we begin walking out. Madison stops for a second, and I turn to face her. She looks around and sees not what she searches for before catching up to me.

“What was that?” I ask, making my way to the door as fast as I can without seeming in too much of a panic for any onlookers.

She keeps quiet until we get out of the restaurant, for what I can only assume is the same reason involving the confidential nature of our business.

“You remember that power in the house? Not the Forsaken, but the other one? I’m feeling it again,” she says.

“Why hello, kittens,” a gruff English accent speaks out. We turn around to face him, and there Victor stands. His eyes instantly clung to my chest, where my father’s ring sits on a chain around it.

“Would you look at that? You’ve got quite the fashion sense, brother.” I shrug the comment off.

“You’re under are…” His hands grab me and Mason on a shoulder each. “…est!” I finish my sentence and we’re no longer where we stood. We’re in what looks like a tropical jungle. Surrounding us is a crudely-constructed wooden dome, the wooden frame held together by what looks like vines as if taken directly from the set of a movie that was based in some primitive tribal country.

“Teleported?” I ask, more to myself than anyone else.

“Yes,” Victor replies, “I don’t think you have much jurisdiction in Africa.”