J.T. materialized on Aubrie’s front lawn.  Convinced he made a peculiar yard ornament, he stepped toward the path leading to her front door.  Before he could knock, the door opened.  Logan peered at him with sleepy eyes. 

“You have a time normalcy deficiency we are going to have to work on.  The rest of us, mortal as well as mystical need our sleep.”  With that said, he wheeled.  “Want coffee?”

“Sure,” J.T. said as he followed Logan into the kitchen.  Aubrie’s quaint little space smelled of basil and oregano.  “Aubrie’s been cooking again,” he observed.

Logan glanced up from filling the carafe.  “Yeah, we had lasagna last night or this morning.”  Shaking his head, he grimaced.  “Whatever the hell time it was.”

“Look, Logan, I’m sorry.  I came back here because I wanted to debrief while the intel was still fresh in my mind.  Guess I didn’t think about the time.  I was too stoked.”

Logan scratched the base of his skull where a probable headache brewed.  “It’s all good.  I’d have done the same thing. We’ll talk.  But first, I have to have coffee.”

J.T. laughed.  The ease of conversing with his SEAL team bud never went away it seemed.  The growl from the bedroom door had J.T. turning swiftly.

“Easy, Copper.”  Logan’s command held authority.  “You remember J.T., don’t you?”  Indicating their uninvited, undead guest standing in the middle of their house, Logan waved off the dog with a grunt.  “Go back to bed.”

Copper turned with a low grumble before heading back into the shadows.

J.T. relaxed a fraction when the Mountain Cur disappeared into the bedroom.  “He’s got good senses.  Copper knows I’m a vampire.”  Accepting the coffee cup, Logan handed him, he focused on dropping a teaspoon of sugar along with one of creamer in the cup rather than let the dog’s reaction unnerve him.

Logan nodded.  “Aubrie says he shares her sixth sense when it comes to danger.  Come on, let’s go sit out back.  I’ll conjure up a fire.”

J.T. shrugged.  “Okay, I’ll just sit back from the blaze, if it’s all the same to you.  It’s not as if I need the warmth.”  The smirk came naturally.  If a vampire couldn’t laugh about being undead then what was the fun of being a vampire?

They sat in companionable silence watching the wood catch.  Just two Navy buds sharing a cup of joe.

“A vamp with a dry wit.  You haven’t changed.”  Logan flicked a glance in his direction as he stoked the fire into a warm blaze.  The serious tone of his words mirrored the stern set to his mouth.

J.T. studied his coffee.  “No?”

Logan’s mouth flattened to a hard line.  “You know what I mean.  You’re still the same J.T. that had our backs over there in that hell hole.  You’re still the same guy who could ride a Harley with his eyes closed or beat the shit out of us playing poker.  Hell, I still think I owe you money, come to think of it.”

J.T. smirked.  “A lot of water under the bridge.  A lot has changed.”

“Yeah, but one thing is still solid.  You still care.”

“Aw, come on, Lodi.  I’m a fucking vampire.  I drink blood to maintain.  I don’t even have a heart that works anymore.  I may as well be dead for all the good immortality does me.”

Logan stared into the flames for a minute.  “You still care, or you wouldn’t be here right now.”

Letting the words sink in, J.T. leaned back in the Adirondack chair.  His existence had become a struggle.  Learning to deal with the problem became his bane.  SEALs were taught to adapt.  Well, he sure as hell had fucking adapted.  “When things matter, I guess it bothers me some.”

“The J.T. I knew would have faced the devil himself if it meant saving his comrades.  You haven’t changed.  I see it in you, bro.”

His chest relaxed some.  The pain eased a little.  Dredging up all the shitty feelings did not hurt as bad when put that way.  “Thanks, bro.”

“Anytime, vampire.  Now, tell me what you found over there.”

J.T. scrubbed at his chin where the stubble of a beard sprouted.  “Well, I found one of the slave camps if that’s what you mean.  It appears they are isolated from the other camps.  I’d say the Sultan’s keeping them separated for a good reason.  They’re ready to fight.  Still got some life left in them despite the deplorable conditions they live in.” 

“How many?”

“About fifty.”  J.T. sipped the coffee.  “Their leader’s name is Rocco.  He’s a big Haitian immigrant.  He’s got a right-hand man name of Thomas, another one who hates the Sultan.  The hatred cuts deep in that one, I can feel it.”  He reached up giving his chest a loose fist pump.  “He’s got the kill factor in here.”

Logan nodded in understanding.  The ‘kill’ factor proved something a man needed to face battle and come out on the other side.  “Can Thomas or Rocco lead us to the Sultan?”  Logan reached over, poking the fire as he listened.

“Well, Thomas says he knows where his lair is, but I’ve not seen much evidence that any of them know anything.  My guess is they had more adrenaline pumping than knowledge.  I did witness motivation, though.  They are ready to fight.  They have that in their favor.”

Logan stared into the flames.  “You didn’t uncover anything regarding the Sultan and his plans?”

“No.  I do know Nybbas’ mansion is a spy’s wet dream though.  He has fake walls throughout the whole place, just like you said.  Each room has peepholes for viewing the mirrors which reflect images back to the spies.  I discovered a woman watching me as I came into the downstairs parlor.”  He waited for a beat.  Too much sharing meant Jessie might become collateral damage.  “She was lurking between the walls.  I had her, but she broke away.”  Certain he didn’t need to add the part about her biting him, J.T. left the explanation at that.

“Who was she?”

Hesitating, J.T. shook his head.  “Don’t know.”

“What did she look like?  Describe her.”  Logan eyed J.T. warily.

“Well, it all happened so fast.  Not a lot of light inside those walls.  Dark hair, long.”  His hand wanted to shake on the coffee cup.  His brain reminded him to keep to the facts.  Any later omission wouldn’t be so hard to explain.  “Tall and slim.  That’s about it.”  Not exactly the truth but he couldn’t risk too much at that point.  Reminding himself to keep his eyes from ping-ponging, he studied the fire.  The lieutenant was no fool.  Logan had interrogated loads of detainees during their time together in Afghanistan.  He could spot a lie a mile away.

“Where did she go?”

“I don’t know.  Into another room, I think.  When I got to the room, the woman was gone.”  His throat tightened.  The evasion of the truth was the same as lying.  J.T. held out his hands, giving them a good examination.  “Logan, she reminded me of someone from my past.  Couldn’t figure out if she was real or a pawn sent by the Sultan to fuck with me.”  The laugh was mirthless. Best to come clean he decided.  Her name would remain his little secret until he could find her again.

“Probably another voyeur of the Sultan like before.”  Logan tossed the dregs of his coffee cup into the flames.  Glancing up at the sky, he winced.  “You all right to fly home?  The sun is rising.”

Logan’s reference to the one they called Meagan gave J.T. a sinking feeling.  What if Jessie was a slave of the Sultan’s or held captive in the Netherworld?  She could be forced to do the bastard’s bidding like Meagan.  It made the mission personal.  Angered by the idea, he stood before blowing out a breath.  “Yeah, you’re right.  I better fly.  See you this evening?”

“Yeah, around eighteen-hundred-hours sound okay?

Nodding, J.T. straightened.  “Yeah.  We need to sit down and formulate a plan, Logan.  My snooping around over there is going to send down the wrath of the Sultan on those people.”

Logan got up, laying a hand on J.T. shoulder.  “We will.  You did good, vampire.  Thanks for the intel.”

J.T. squirmed under the appreciation.  “I didn’t find the bastard’s lair.  Just more of the slaves he’s captured.  Pretty pitiful.”  Staring into middle-distance, he shook his head.  “We need to move on this hell hole.”

Logan nodded.  “Copy that.  We will, soon.”

J.T.’s mouth curved upward as he caught the implication.  “Later, bro.”

“Later, vampire.”

***

J.T. left with little more than a poof of smoke.  Within seconds he was back home.  Materializing in the front office, he glanced about out of habit.  A vampire could never be too careful.  Everything looked in order.  The shades were on a timer to automatically close at dawn.  The sun, the bain to his existence, was blocked, yet the room held winter’s eerie light.  Not enough to harm him, but enough to see his path to the front door.  Mail lay scattered under the chrome slot inserted in the wooden entrance panel.

Bending to pick up the junk mail which was the majority of what he received J.T. caught a flicker of a shadow passing under the threshold.  The shadow paused a moment.  Then the outline was gone.  Using his heightened sense of sound, he tracked the footsteps leaving.

Curiosity got the better of him.  He hurried to the window.  A wee voice in his head said to take care.  After all, he had enemies aplenty.  He pulled up a slat carefully before peering out at the sidewalk shimmering in the early morning light.  There wasn’t a soul.  Or perhaps, there was.  J.T. went to the door, unbolting the locks with speed.  Careful of the light filtering through the crack, J.T. scanned the area.

The view was serene.  A quiet, small-town street bathed in an early morning glow.  Someone had been standing at J.T.’s front door mere moments before.  But not anymore.  Who could have been lurking outside so early?  His exhausted brain warned him off stewing over the who of it.  Rather, he consoled himself with the idea it was someone who found him closed and left rather than bang on the door.  Glancing at the desk, he didn’t see a red light on the answering machine.  “Oh well, they’ll call for an appointment.  The machine will take any message they want to leave.  Got to get some shuteye.” With Zodiac in tow, J.T. climbed the stairs to his room.

***

Sleep wasn’t in the cards.  He was too razzed he supposed.  Lying awake staring at the ceiling, J.T. wondered if he would ever forget her.  The ache in his chest remained though his heart had stopped beating.  Where was the justice in being caged inside a dead body, yet feeling alive every time she crossed his mind? 

Losing her was bad enough, but the memories would not let go.  No one knew the depth of J.T’s pain.  He wanted things that way.  Harder to talk about than he realized.  Did the Sultan have anything to do with those memories?  Probably.  “Don’t worry old boy; you’ll have your chance to get at me.  It won’t be long now.”  Throwing back the covers, he stood and stretched.  Tight muscles over long legs resisted the attempt at giving.

He wanted to share his soul with her.  His Jessie.  The only woman who had ever been able to get through the walls he’d put up after his tours in the middle east.  He raked his hands through his mane of dark hair, giving the ends a good shake.  No reflection to check, not even a smartphone capture could prove how he looked at that moment.  The only solace in the thought was he hadn’t changed since the Sultan made him a vampire.

He would never age.  Never show signs of stress, well, at least they would vanish.  He would always be the same as he had been that fateful night he encountered the blood demon.  Bits and pieces of that night were all that remained.  The memories had pretty much disappeared.  Sometimes he would wake from one of those dreams where the faces flew right at him.  Unrecognizable images accompanied by cries for help.  Still, a complete recollection eluded him. 

J.T. decided if he couldn’t sleep, he’d work.  Shrugging into a t-shirt and shorts, he padded down to the office.  No light needed, but he decided to flick on his desk lamp simply for company.  Turning to the kitchen, he wanted something warm.  Coffee would do for now.  He’d feed later.  Nuked pig’s blood provided enough to keep him going.  Regular food usually made him sick.  Funny, but before becoming a vampire, he’d always enjoyed junk food.  “Don’t have to worry about that now.”  He would always be the same weight he was that fateful night.  The laugh came out in a huff of disgust.  “This pity party is getting you nowhere, bro.  Lighten up.” 

Zodiac rubbed against his bare leg.  J.T. wondered if he was hungry.  “Here you go.”  Giving the cat a good rub behind the ears, he dropped some feed in his bowl before turning for the pantry and coffee.  Mindlessly filling the carafe, he mulled over the outcome of his visit to the Netherworld.  J.T. closed his eyes for a better view of Jessie.  He could smell her.  Then, like a vision, she had disappeared.  The Sultan’s doing again, he reasoned.  With the coffee grounds in the pot, he filled the coffeemaker with water. 

Soon the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled his space.  J.T. enjoyed the smell, so he closed his eyes briefly, inhaling the aroma.  The thump against the nearby wall distracted him.  The next thump had him stepping to the wall which separated his lodgings from the Cheniere Station Apothecary Plus pharmacy, Katie Tibideaux’s business, next door.  Someone moved about.  J.T. wondered if Katie had dropped by on a Sunday to catch up on some work.

Then, he heard a crash.  Something big fell hard.  It made a thud followed by glass shattering in an explosion of sound.  Without hesitating, he slipped through the wall using his vision.  The front of the store was clear.  J.T. scanned the supply room.  There, next to Katie’s workstation, a slim figure dressed in black, busily snatched up what looked like medicine bottles before stuffing them in her pockets. 

A piteous sight lay strewn on the floor.  The old-fashioned metal cabinet rested on its side, its contents littering the linoleum.  A grand old dame, molested and beaten.  Glass shards and shearings spread out over the floor, casting a shimming glow in the late afternoon sun.  The person, covered in black, J.T. recognized as a woman.  Her long hair pulled back in a ponytail gave him pause.  What the? his mind shouted.  With little more than a blink, he evaporated before materializing inside the pharmacy. 

The burglar was too busy scarfing up her score to notice him.  J.T. walked right up on her.

She jerked around, stumbling to the floor.

He registered the surprise at the same moment her eyes recognized she had trouble.  Quickly the shock dissipated in a flurry of movement.  Crawfishing backward on her hands, she gained some much-needed distance.

Rooted to the spot, J.T. could only stare.  “Jessie?”  The one word came out in a condemning question. 

Her glorious face paled as her pouty mouth went slack.  Guilt danced across her features before cool calculation gained control.

His speed landed him between her and the escape route before she could reach the doorknob.  He had to admire the quick reflexes she demonstrated in that second.

Wheeling, she launched a roundhouse kick to his solar plex, sending him sprawling.  One frightened glance backward had Jessie diving for the back door.

Unaffected, J.T. didn’t flinch.  Instead, he repeated his move to block her before slamming the door.  Leaning on the portal, he examined her reaction.

The skin around her mouth grew taught.  The pallor in her face spoke of surprise.

“Not expecting to find you here.”  The beat of a moment passed between them.

Jessie’s eyes shifted from him to the door and back again.  Then, she faced him, her mouth a flat line of challenge.

The fighting stance proved a welcome distraction to the whirling questions and innuendos filtering through J.T.’s muddled brain.  Was she real?  One way to find out.  Again, faster than the eye could see, he reached, gripping her face in his hands.  Her breath on his face stirred his body to possess.  Without warning, he claimed her mouth with all the pent-up force raging within.  Her lips felt warm and soft despite their rigid response.

Lost in the moment, he forgot his training and slipped his tongue between her teeth.  Though she shoved at his chest, her mouth allowed him entry.  The shin kicks seemed necessary, he supposed.  Deflecting her attack to his groin made him grateful for a vampire’s quick reflexes.  By the gods, she tasted good.

J.T.’s brain shifted to automatic with the heat racing through his body.  His Jessie was present in his world once more. 

When Jessie clamped down on his tongue, it was J.T.’s turn to register surprise followed by pain.  He yelped like an injured pup.  Releasing her arm, he grabbed at his mouth where blood already ran down his chin.  Bending double, J.T. nursed the wound.

The release was all she needed.  Twisting out of J.T.’s one-handed vice, she bolted.

Glancing up from the doubled over position, J.T. cursed through the blood in his hand.

The door stood open.  Jessie had fled.  He swore he heard her running but could not locate her.

Light streamed in through the open doorway with a vengeance.  Singed in addition to being fighting mad, J.T. backed out of the last rays of daylight and certain danger.  “Fuck!”  The blinding anger built to a fever pitch.  He punched the wall. The blow was hard enough to put a hole in the sheetrock.  The physical release felt good, despite his hand singing out with the treatment.  He quieted his brain’s chant for revenge.  Knowing nothing good would come from destroying more of Katie’s livelihood, he dropped to a chair.

Rehashing the last few minutes, he realized he’d been wrong.  “She’s real,” he whispered with reverence.  J.T. closed his eyes over the knowledge.  The hunger flowing through his veins had nothing to do with blood.  The only relief for his need was Jessie. 

Unsure of how much time had passed, J.T. glanced around the room.  Trays lay overturned.  Pill bottles with their contents dumped, littered the floor.  The counter supplies sprinkled like pixie dust about the back room.  Near the wall dividing the properties, the white antique cabinet lay like an injured swan, dented but still structurally solid.  Its glass doors, however, shattered across the floor in a million pieces, were probably the reason for the cuts on his hands and arms.  Raking a bloody hand through his hair, J.T., the private investigator, studied the destruction before him.  If he called Katie, she would call the police.  No, he had to take care of Jessie’s mess alone.

With deliberate efficiency, J.T. wiped down the cabinet as well as the back-door Jessie used a crowbar on to gain entry.  Giving the crime scene a good once-over, he mentally checked off any other possibilities.  That’s when he spied the security camera positioned in the corner of the room.  Despite Jessie’s speed, he worried she’d be visible on the camera.  Was there a silent alarm?  Sure, there was, he mused.  Neither of them needed a run-in with the local sheriff.  Once in his dead life had been enough for J.T.  Sheriff Clancy was not a legit officer of the law. 

He had to think.  The scene could only be a robbery.  Katie’s pharmacy stocked a wide variety of pain medications which he knew brought out the crazies.  Thefts involving opioids had risen to an all-time high.  One of the most abused prescription drug types were a serious epidemic everywhere.  Even a pharmacy as small as Katie’s was a target for thieves.  Maybe because of the fact her place was a small-time drug store the robbers saw the place as an easy target.

What was a vampire to do?  He’d have to work fast. 

Slipping effortlessly through the wall once more, J.T. raced upstairs for the coat Logan had charmed.  The warlock wanted him to have a go-to plan for emergencies.  Jessie’s little breaking-and-entering constituted such an emergency.  With the coat on and its thick hoodie covering his head, J.T. slipped into a pair of charmed gloves before stealing out the back door.

The security company was local.  J.T. knew the owner.  If he could get there in time to blank the video as well as the guy’s memory, he had a chance of saving Jessie from jail.