It’s hard to keep a secret in a small town. Even harder to keep one in a Southern town where the town’s favorite hobby is gossiping over sweet iced tea while sitting on the porch swing. The genteel scene was a facade covering cruel words and at times even vicious deeds.
Everyone knew about the hot affair between the wife of the local car dealer and county dog catcher, Beau. And everyone knew that the car dealer routinely went to his lake side cabin for private time with the mayor’s oldest daughter. It was expected that men would cheat, accepted in the same way as the belief in going to church on Sunday would cleanse you of the sins committed on Saturday night.
The church ladies consoled the pastor’s wife when she suffered her third miscarriage, the kind words at odds with the questions asked later behind closed doors. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she give that kind man the children he deserves? She must have done something wrong.
Today’s topic of discussion was Adam Kincaid, the youngest son of the factory owner and largest employer in the city. He was different in way they couldn’t quite put their finger on. Oh, he joined the track team, competed in the local soccer league, and even went hunting with the other boys. But he didn’t go out drinking, didn’t make clumsy passes at the cheerleaders, and he never visited Julie out at the old trailer park like the other young men in the county.
And that is how the whispers started, how the rumors began to circulate around the town until my mother heard the gossip at the Cut ‘n Curl one Thursday afternoon.
That is how my life in a small town ended and the rest of my story began.
-Two days had passed since the Djinn had surprised him while he was trying to free the latest victim. He had been concentrating on cutting the ropes from the young man's wrists and hadn't heard the approach of a second Djinn.-
He was cursing himself for making a rookie mistake as he lost consciousness.
-He wakes abruptly and looks around, searching for a way to escape. He could tell time has passed because of the amount of light that was streaming in from the filthy windows. He tries to move and realizes he is tied to a post in what appears to be the back of the warehouse. Unable to reach the knife in his boot, he realizes he is in serious trouble as he watches the Djinn approach. Its blue eyes start to glow and the tattoos start to move as he reaches out to touch Kincaid's face.-
~~~
To a stranger walking by the warehouse would appear empty, abandoned. But it was the home of pair of Djinn or it had been until Kincaid killed the younger one with knife dipped in lamb's blood. If anyone glances inside they might catch sight of a tall, tattooed man before he quickly disappears into the shadows to feed on his latest victim.
He kept this one alive longer than usual, enjoying the taste of the hunter's blood.
~~~
He was already regretting his decision to allow Agatha to throw a party to celebrate his promotion. He was tired and wanted to go home and sleep for hours, instead he has to put on a suit and be sociable. He grumbles and considers skipping the party altogether but he had invited the newest assistant district attorney to the party. After working with David Robertson for the last six months thought the man would be a good match for Agatha.
After ten minutes of watching his sister and David flirt, he knew had made the right decision. Thirty minutes later he was able to slip out of the party without Agatha even noticing his absence. He considers the evening a success.
~~~
It is the smell of coffee that finally drags him out of the warmth of the bed. He finds his pajama bottoms and pulls them on before heading to the kitchen to find his partner of three years, Jacob. When he walks into the kitchen, Jacob is singing along with the radio and making their anniversary breakfast.
He leans against the wall, thinking of the first time he met Jacob. When he walked into the hospital room to visit his sister, the doctor's bright blue eyes were the first thing he noticed and his smile the second. He remembers the way his sister teased him later after having to repeat his name several times to get his attention.
"Very professional, Detective Kincaid." she said, laughing at his preoccupation. "Are you planning on talking to me or just staring at my doctor?" He clears his throat, embarrassed, but her doctor just laughed and offered his hand, "Doctor Jacob Miller. It's a pleasure to meet you. Agatha has told me all about you."
"Adam? Breakfast is ready. We need to finish packing or we'll miss our flight to London." The words bring him out of the past, he looks at Jacob, and smiles.
~~~
Jacob answers the door to find Agatha standing at the door, Moira standing quietly beside her and holding Finn, the newest member of the family. "David couldn't make it today?" He gestures her inside and takes Finn, making faces at the smiling baby. "Adam is working in his studio. He'll be down in a few minutes."
He comes in later holding a photograph of Moira and Finn that he had taken for Agatha earlier in the week."What do you think, Aggie?" He hands her the picture and picks up Moira, kissing her red curls. "How's my favorite girl?"
He glances over at Jacob and smiles. The little girl had been born on the day they met and was about to turn four years old. His partner responds with a wink before walking over to put his arm around him.
"Should we tell Agatha the good news?"
~~~
He looks at all the people who were important to him gathered around to celebrate the first birthday of his son, Daniel. Jacob was holding their son and standing next to Agatha and David, who had announced that they were expecting a third child around Christmas.
He had laughed and teased her about talking to her doctor about birth control. Agatha had responded by punching him in the stomach and Jacob just rolled his eyes at their childish behaviour.
His life had turned out better than he could ever have imagined, he thought, as he walked to join his partner to cut the birthday cake.
~~~
Jacob sat at the table looking at the plans for their new home. With two young children, a dog, and two cats running around their current home was too small. Adam's dark room had already been converted to a bedroom for Rachel. Another bathroom is a must as well. He glances at his watch, puts the papers aside, and starts dinner for the family.
-Kincaid didn't feel the pain from the feedings, he was lost in the dream world the Djinn's venom created.-
~~~
Jacob was late for their sixth wedding anniversary dinner. It wasn't his fault, of course,that an emergency came up at the hospital. He knew that he had kept Jacob waiting just as often with his job at the police department. It was a risk they had been willing to take when they said their vows six years ago.
Agatha had been disappointed in how Jacob had proposed. A hospital waiting hadn't been the most romantic location for a proposal but it fit their lifestyle and personalities. He had stopped by the hospital before the start of his shift, bringing hot take out and a change of clothes for his partner. Jacob had smelled the curry, laughed, and said he wasn't going to let him get away. On their next day off work, they went to the court house. Agatha and David were the only witnesses.
The sound of the door opening pulled him out of the memories. Jacob was finally home. He picked up the phone and ordered their traditional anniversary meal.
~~~
One week. Jacob had managed to get time off from the hospital and he applied for vacation time from the department. Now he would get to spend a week with his husband. No work, no children, and no worries other than where they should go for dinner. Room service would be sufficient on nights they decide not to leave the hotel room.
Daniel and Abigail didn't mind staying with their Aunt Aggie, she spoils them rotten along with her own three children. He didn't know how she was going to manage with five kids, assorted animals, and a husband and he wasn't going to ask. He needed a vacation and time alone with Jacob. The last case he worked had turned out badly with the murderer claiming two more lives before Kincaid could catch him.
It started out simply enough. In fact, the first time it happened Kincaid decided his exhausted mind was playing tricks on him and went to bed without giving the missing letter another thought. The next item went missing two days later. This, he knew, was no mistake. The photograph was the only one he had of his brother Daniel and he cherished it. He spent hours reviewing the security tapes but found no signs of an intruder. When his khukuri went missing the next day he knew it had to be something supernatural after checking his locks and the security tapes again. The wards around his flat were strengthened and he made a call to his favorite witch asking for additional charms.
Three days passed without incident and he gave a sigh of relief as he headed out to the market. Fresh basil and tomatoes had just been added to his basket when he saw her. MacKenzie. The young Scottish hunter he had failed to save two years ago. The sharp copper scent of blood hit him as he remembered holding her hand when she died. The apparition disappeared when a young couple stepped through her.
The psychic who had helped him contact the spirit of his brother appeared the next evening as he walked his dog in the park. Her body propped up against one of the trees with the dark stain of dried blood across her exposed chest, her heart in her outstretched hand. He heard the sounds of people screaming in a language he didn't understand. He guessed it was French. She had died in Paris. Max gave a sharp bark and the illusion is broken.
His former lover, Ethan, was next. His green eyes were missing and blood ran freely from the wounds covering his body. Kincaid went pale when he remembered the last time he had seen Ethan's eyes. They had been delivered to his home by a low level demon, a gift from Gideon. He felt the brush of fingertips against his cheek and shudders. An angry voice frees him from the spell and he headed to the nearest pub. His hands were shaking as he ordered a pint.
~~~~~~
The voices started the next evening. Cries of anger, of hatred, of blame assaulted him the moment he shut his eyes at night. Within a fortnight he had turned to the bottle and did his best to drink himself into uninterrupted slumber every night. Dark circles appeared under his eyes and faint lines formed around mouth. He lost weight when food started tasting of cardboard.
Kincaid had found a willing partner one night at the club and spent the evening trying to enjoy another type of relief. He realized the stupidity of his actions when the body of his one night stand was found two days later, his throat cut. He would not make the same mistake again.
~~~~~~
A length of rope was hanging next to the portrait of his godson. He rubbed the scars on his wrists and remembered how he had fought against the restraints that held him in place as Gideon tortured him. He had started with a whip then moved on a branding iron. The smell of sweat, blood, and desperation assaulted his senses.
An article from the St Louis paper was propped against his computer. The city where Kincaid had died, if only for three minutes. The city he associated with pain, betrayal, and fear.
Daniel's photograph was pinned to the studio wall with his khukuri. Gideon, the demon, who wore his brother’s body and whispered vile threats into his ear Kincaid vomited into the sink at the memories then sank to the floor, leaning against the counter.
There was no doubt left in his mind. Gideon had returned and was attempting to drive him insane with the visions and voices.. Kincaid was honest enough to admit that the plan had almost worked. He was formulating a plan to draw the demon out when he entered his flat later that evening. When Max failed to greet him at the door he instantly knew something was wrong. The yellow lab had been his best friend for years and never failed to meet him at the door after work.
"Max? Come here, boy." He called out as he entered the living room with his knife in hand. "It's time for your walk." He recognized the scent of death and let out an involuntary sound of grief that left his throat raw when he spots the puppy next to the sofa.
"No...no." He pulled the lifeless body into his arms and gives a silent pray for help, for revenge.
~~~~~
Kincaid felt an odd sense of calm settle over him as he buried Max. The yellow lab, a gift from an old friend, had been his last emotional tie with London. He had only made two real friends since moving to London and circumstances had caused rifts in both friendships. His studio was only a business and his flat felt empty without his rambunctious companion. It was time to confront Gideon where it had all started. St Louis.
A letter was left on his desk addressed to his occasional hunting partner, Caleb, with instructions on what to do with Kincaid's personal belongings. He includes the number for Jax and Sara then sends a quick text asking Caleb to check on his flat. Without a second thought, he leaves the flat with one bag thrown over his shoulder. He would not be returning.
The flight to New York City seemed uneventful for every passenger except Kincaid. Sweat stained his dark grey shirt before the plane had even left the runway. A young red haired flight attendant looked at him with concern. He looked down at his clenched hands and made an effort to appear normal. The last thing he needed was the unwanted attention of an air marshal. "I hate flying, ma'am. The small spaces...the crowds." His charmingly shy smile seemed at odds with the exhausted look in his eyes. She gave his shoulder a comforting pat before moving on to the next passenger. He gazes out the window without seeing the blue of the sky or the vast ocean below. Instead, visions of the last three weeks haunt him.
~~~~~~
Kincaid examined the Woodhaven storage unit for any signs of tampering or theft before he carefully opened the carved wooden box placed in the center of the room. The air was stale and he coughed several times after dusting off the box containing most of the items needed for the spells. An ancient book wrapped in oil skin, a brass dagger, a wooden bowl, and seven bundles of herbs are added to his scuffed leather bag. Another bag of weapons is placed in the back of his rental car and he left the city shortly after midnight.
The drive to St Louis took fourteen hours and forty-three minutes.
Candles. /God damn it./ He had forgotten the six white candles he needed for the spell. He strode through the local Wal Mart, ignoring or not seeing the way people stepped out of the way. The candles were tossed into the basket along with a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of cheap whiskey.
It was as if he had stepped back in time. Kincaid took a drink of the whiskey and glared at the warehouse from the relative safety of his rented car. Graffiti covered the dull grey steel and weeds had long since overtaken the grassy lawn. He took another drag of his cigarette and exited the car.
~~~~~~
Candles were lit, his blood had been offered, and sigils painted on the bare floor. It was time. Kincaid held the book and chanted the spell to summon Gideon.
Attenrobendum eos,
ad consiendrum,
ad ligandum eos,
potiter et solvendum,
et ad,
congregontum eos,
coram me.
The air felt electrified when Gideon appeared inside the sigil and the hair on Kincaid's arms stood up and his stomach clenched at the sight of the demon. The meat suit containing the monster was a frail-looking woman with long grey hair. "Would you kill an innocent woman, Kincaid?" The mocking tone was familiar even when spoken in a soft Irish accent. Gideon paced the length of the sigil and smiled. "I would say you look good but it would be a lie. Not sleeping well, my friend?"
Kincaid's hands tighten on the book and he uttered the words to bind Gideon to the body he had stolen from an innocent woman. The spell prevented the demon from escaping and assuming another form, a necessary evil. He felt a tug of remorse for the woman but did not hesitate to continue to the next spell. A demon bomb would be more accurate. If it worked the demon would be destroyed forever. If it didn't, well, it was unlikely Kincaid would survive the blast.
No sooner had the words been spoken than a brilliant flash and the sound of a heart wrenching scream were seen and heard. Who the sound came from was a mystery never solved. Kincaid was thrown against a pile of abandoned machinery, shaken but still breathing. He tried to move, to reach the khukuri he left next to the wooden bowl, but a blinding pain stopped him. A short section of rebar was protruding from his chest and a bitter laugh escaped when he heard the approaching footsteps. /Son of a bitch./ His plan failed and he was still alive. Barely. Blood trickled down his chin and he wiped it away with a hand broken by the explosion.
Kincaid briefly closed his eyes and muttered the words of the first spell Sara had taught him, a Gaelic summoning spell. "William." He coughed then tried to speak again, his voice already growing weaker. "William."
There are three things you need to know about Nathaniel Young III. The first is that Mr Young, as he is known to everyone from his mother to his barber, can find things. People, lost artifacts, the winning lotto ticket that you put somewhere safe and now can’t find. The second is payment. Mr Young demands his fee up front and in full. Trying to bargain with him will only increase the cost. In every other way Mr Young is a perfectly ordinary man. Nondescript, even dull. Average in height, weight, and appearance until he looks you in the eyes and demands his fee.
Now this leads us to the third thing. The price he demands is a memory. His choice. On a good day it would mean reliving the joy of falling in love for the first time. Your first kiss. Holding your child for the first time. Unfortunately, for most of his clients, Mr Young rarely has a good day.
You might be asking yourself why he needs other people’s memories. Why not look back on his own? The simple answer is it’s the only way he can experience emotion. He will never feel sorrow, hatred, love, or desire unless it is in a memory shared with someone else. The eight seconds it takes for him to collect his fee could be the longest moments of your life.
That’s what it felt like for me. The reason I went to Mr Young isn’t important to the story except to say the need was great. It saved a life. Was it worth it? In the long run, yes. The memory he “took”, forced me to relive, was of my death. I remembered the desperate attempts to find a way out, to escape from my captor then the almost quiet acceptance of what I knew had to be my next move. The agony I felt, the smell of blood and the taste of it in my mouth, the sound of my final scream. Am I ashamed to admit that I screamed as the memory ended? No. After it was all said and done, I did what I always do when the memory comes to the surface of my mind. I push it back into the box, wrap it in chains, and place it the darkest part of my mind and try to forget it again.
Why am I telling you this… is it a warning? A cautionary tale?
There was nothing left in the flat except for a house plant. Its wilted leaves told the story of its neglect. Days without water or the casual hello its owner used to give it in the early morning. It had given up.
Kincaid had given up on London. After his confinement in Ireland, he was no longer able to tolerate the crowds of people pressing around him. Even the four walls of his flat seemed to be a prison cell.
Jax took care of selling the studio and the equipment.The money had been put in his savings account. A note had been sent to Adriana’s new office. There had been no one else to say good bye too.
He wasn’t heading back to the States. Instead, it was Australia that called to him. Danger and wide open spaces. Max would be able to join him after he spends his time in quarantine.
With his best friend by his side, Kincaid might learn to smile again.
The Kincaid who escaped the room had forgotten how to smile.
The room were he had been held captive for weeks was no longer the cold, sterile room he had been thrown into. Instead, the air was hot and the room reeked of recently spilled blood. Some of it was his own but most belonged to the monsters.
His escape was carefully planned and orchestrated. For six days he pretended to grow weaker and weaker until it finally seemed he had given up home, given up fighting them. On the seventh day the creatures became careless as he had planned. Or hoped.
End the end did it really matter? He escaped. The monsters paid for their crime against him.
And Kincaid went home.
The only sign of emotion from him was when Caleb dropped of Max. There wasn't a smile. Only a release of tension in shoulders and the lack of the frown. The yellow lab refused to leave his side for days.
Kincaid ignored the calls from Adriana.
The sexy neighbor's greeting was met with a curt nod.
The studio was closed. His prized camera lay neglect next to the skull on his desk. Both of them gathering dust.
There are things you can fight and some things you can’t.
The poison they injected into his veins is one of them. Time stops then starts again, slower than molasses in January as the old saying goes. Colors appear miles away while sounds run up and down his bare skin. He feels, if only he could move his hand, that he could capture the scream escaping from his throat. Would it feel ragged and hoarse? Was it even a scream? It might be a plea for help, soft and vulnerable. He doesn’t know anymore. Reality has changed for him and he knows it on some basic level. There is a before and an after.
Before when he is Kincaid, free of the poison.
He thinks about his best friend Max and wonders if someone is taking care of him.
He regrets not having the chance to explore the scars of his sexy neighbor.
He wonders if Adriana is looking for him.
He makes plans to fight back, to escape from the sterile room he woke up in weeks ago. Or was it days? No, it was weeks. He could see with his own eyes how his body has changed. At least fifteen pounds lighter than when he had been captured. In his more lucid moments he tries to identify the creatures who grabbed him as he left the pub in Killarney.
Four voices. Low, masculine.
~The door opens and he struggles against the restraints as he has everyday from the start. Needle-like teeth sink into his forearm and the After begins again as the poison enters his system.~
My story so far: Hunter, Photographer, Friend, and Owner of a dog named Max.
Kincaid’s journal 2016-2017
If you find this journal you will need to know the basics to understand the entries that follow this one. My name is Adam A. Kincaid. The middle initial stands for something that is none of your damn business. I left Moss Point, Mississippi when I was sixteen and made my way to New York City. I left three years later. When I turned nineteen I started hunting the supernatural two weeks after my nineteenth birthday. A hunter named Mike Richardson saved my life in Wyoming and started training me. I learned how to fight, how to kill, and how to disappear. I can pick a lock, pick a pocket, or slice a throat with equal skill and ease. I have been a liar, a thief, and a hunter.
And more.
First entry dated January 1
I burned last year's journal last night before taking out the new one and leaving it on my desk as a way to start the year off with a fresh start.. It is a strange tradition and if you asked me why I do it I would not be able to give you an answer. Maybe it is a way of keeping it private? Or of starting fresh each new year. Keeping a journal was never my idea. It was Royale’s, my former psychiatrist. I argued with her about it but eventually picked up a pen and the words started flowing. Why she wanted me to keep a journal is a story for another time. I promise to write it before this journal is full. You have my word on it.
AAK
January 2
Every hunter I know has a tragic backstory. No one in their right mind would give up the joys of a normal life and live the life of a nomad hunting creatures that ninety-nine percent of the population does not believe in. My own story is not as interesting as others nor as tragic. At least not until Gideon showed up in my life. The start of my life was a simple story of an odd child desperately looking for love from his family. Then it moved on to a young man standing his ground and leaving behind the ones who could, would never accept him for what he was. The next three years tell a story of survival and hard lessons learned. At nineteen the true purpose of my life was found and I focused almost all of my attention on it until the death murder of my brother Daniel. Those years would be considered tragic but now? Now my life is good. The only tragedy in my life is the stuff I let into it. Not exactly a tragic backstory now, I know. But I do have to deal with the tragedy in other’s lives.
Take the story of McKenzie Jones. A twenty-seven year old hunter with brilliant green eyes, shiny black hair and porcelain skin free of any blemishes. She was a curvy woman of five foot six inches. I am not writing all of this down because I have a sexual interest in her, far from it. But as a reminder of someone who seemed to have it all going for them then in a moment of heartbreak becomes an example of tragic consequences of reckless and vengeful actions. She came from a family of hunters. Her great great grandmother the one starting the family tradition after the death of her youngest son at the hands of a woman in white. She spent years researching and training before finally killing the murderous spirit.
Mac was different. She became a hunter out of family obligation, out of dedication to the traditions her ancestors started. She was not motivated out of hate for the first twenty six years of her life. It was a demon that changed that for her. Mac was to be married to Devon Mcallister and was already expecting their first child when everything changed for her. The demon responsible was no mere red eyed demon, no, it was one of the white eyed ones who destroy someone who is destined to greatness. (That isn’t the word exactly but it is close enough for now. I don’t want to get obsessed with finding the right word and forget about the story I am trying to tell.) The demon, who uses a symbol instead of a name, killed Devon. Not cleanly or simply. But brutally and bloody. When Mac found out she went into shock then three days later gave birth to a stillborn daughter. She was named Devon Rose and was buried next to her father.
By that afternoon Mac had made a deal with a red-eyed demon. This one had taken the body of a short,stout, grey-haired man of about sixty years of age. If she would do a simple task for him the demon would give her the name of the white-eyed demon who killed her husband to be. And where she could find him. Ten deaths for one name? To Mac the deal was something she could live with for a while. She intended to die after she took her revenge. If ten others had to die for her to achieve it? She could live with it.
Would I have made the same kind of deal to find Daniel’s killer? I don’t know.
She killed four hunters before I managed to track her down in Scotland. The first was strangled and branded in Ireland. The second, also in Ireland, had been branded and decapitated. The third left with a carved stake through his heart, the brand left on his forehead. The fourth still surprises me. The brutal way she was killed and left for her young children to find. Mac inspired a new set of hunters that day, unfortunately. But they might turn out to hunt the hunters. I will need to keep an eye on those boys. If I don’t there could be problems later.
It was the brands that helped me catch up with Mac. When I did she had changed. Her hair was greasy and hanging limply down her back. The once bright green eyes had dulled to a cold, dead emerald gaze. The only sign of emotion I found in her eyes was a hint of relieved madness. She didn’t fight me or even attempt to run. Mac was not the type to beg either. She sat there calmly, surrounded by trees, explaining why she did what she did to the other hunters. It was clear that some of the madness of vengeance had left her system but she felt compelled to follow through with the pact. It was the only thing keeping her alive at the time. She needed to avenge Devon before she could die. I knew and I think part of her did too that I could not let her continue with the revenge quest. Going to prison would serve no purpose. The demon would get her out so she could complete the assigned task. Death was the only option. I gave her the choice of how she wanted to die. By her own hand or by mine. I thought she would choose to die by her own hand but she surprised me. She could not end her life until the demon was dead but she also did not want to go on killing. She had one request of me and it was one I could grant without a moment of hesitation. When the time came I ended her life quickly and as painlessly as possible. Then took her body home and had her buried next to her two Devons. The people she loved most. It was her last wish. I stood there with her remaining family and grieved along with them. For the loss of her life and the possibilities denied to her. For the loss of four hunters and their families.
Abraham had passed along a letter to me and it finally arrived today. It was from Mac’s oldest brother Dylan. He wanted me to know they had taken the two young sons of the hunter Mac had killed. Their way of atoning for her sins, I assume. But one I was grateful to hear about. They were still searching for the demon who was originally responsible for the madness but had no luck so far. They asked that I keep them updated since they knew I would be working the case too. They were right. I am not going to stop until I find the white-eyed demon but I am not going to let it control me like it did with Mac. I have worked to hard to get where I am to give up everything for revenge. Unless it was for Sara or Aiden. Then I would leave everything behind in a heartbeat. Family has nothing to do with blood in this case. It has everything to do with what is in my heart.
I sent a letter to Dylan thanking him for the information and asking him to keep me updated. If he needed anything he could count on me to be there. I included my cell-phone number so it would be easier for him to reach me. A letter could take too much time to reach me if it was an emergency.
AAK
January 3
The body heals. The spirit, or soul, takes longer.
And sometimes it never heals. Or a scab forms over the wound so thick no amount of healing will ever reach the original cut. The pain becomes so deeply ingrained that it becomes part of the soul. A darkness that will never see light again. Cheerful bastard, aren’t I? After Gideon I felt the change in myself. Maybe change is the wrong word. It amplified something that was already there. The split between Adam Kincaid and Hunter Kincaid. I do not have multiple personalities. Each is very aware of the other but at times one is in more control. For my safety and the safety of others.
I am in a melancholy mood tonight. Part of it is loneliness, I know. Max is over at Caleb’s and Adriana is with her Laurance. Sara and Jax have each other and the kids. With Max gone I realize how alone I really am.
January 4
It was one of those days when nothing extraordinary happens. But I did not find it boring as I usually would. It was oddly peaceful after the chaos of the holiday season. Max and I spent the day at home. I cleaned the kitchen while he supervised. My dog has strong opinions about where the mixing bowls should go. I am glad no one is around to hear my snort of laughter at that comment. I am in the habit of giving Max more credit than the dog really deserves. But I am also careful to avoid blaming things on him when it was my own mistake. Except that one time I blamed him for running out of coffee. I was cranky and half asleep at the time. I apologized later.
I worked on my new book. (The one I am not telling Jax about until it is finished. I do not need the pressure at the moment.) Max played in his garden. The only excitement of the day happened when the delivery boy brought us dinner. He remembered Max and brought him a soup bone from the diner. I thought Max was going to tackle him in his excitement. I gave the boy a generous tip before he left. Then Max and I settled on the sofa to watch a nature documentary about feral cats. His tail was wagging the entire time. Not sure if he wanted to chase them as prey or play a game.
AAK
January 5
Attenrobendum eos,
ad consiendrum,
ad ligandum eos,
potiter et solvendum,
et ad,
congregontum eos,
coram me.
The spell I used to summon the demon Gideon. I have it memorized, of course. But there are times I worry about forgetting it. Of forgetting all the things Mike Richardson taught me. That my life would become so routine and dull that I will no longer remember to how to fight, how to throw a blade. How to protect myself against the dangers of the unseen and unnamed. To go back to be vulnerable and weak. To me this is a nightmare. I can not rely on others to protect me. I am the one who protects others. Without that what am I? Saving people has become part of who I am now. The thrill of the hunt is an addiction to me. Drugs I can live without. Easily. They have never tempted me. Not even when I lived on the streets of New York City. But adrenaline became an addiction.
I don’t know what brought on this feeling tonight. The day went well enough. Everything was quiet at the studio by lunch time. I spent the afternoon working on a few prints that I wanted to hang in the gallery. I thought it was time to put up some of my newer works for clients to see and to buy. The walk home was uneventful except for the stranger who bumped into me at the corner by Tessa’s diner. Even that was nothing of importance. I check to see if my phone and wallet was still there after the accidental contact and it was safely tucked away as usual. No pick pocketing to ruin my day. Good. I was in no hurry to spend the rest of my evening tracking the man down.
Max sniffed me suspiciously when I arrived home. I can not imagine how it was for him. All the different smells must lead to sensory overload at times. He sneezed a few times before moving to sit on the opposite side of the sofa. I took that as a hint to shed my work clothes and shower before our traditional evening walk through the park.
The man who bumped into me earlier was in the park, sitting on a bench while talking on the phone. He didn’t even make eye contact but I was very aware of his presence. How odd it was to see him twice in one day. Millions of people and he suddenly shows up twice? Once more and I would know it was not a coincidence. I decided to change our routine up just a bit and headed over to the Blue Post with Max. The bartender Malcolm was a cat person but would not mind me bringing Max along this one time. We spent several hours talking about books before I finally went home. No sign of the stranger.
Yet here I am in the middle of the night worrying about it. Something has my spider senses tingling.
AAK
January 6
I take it for granted now. Eating homemade meals with fresh ingredients. Ripe tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, freshly chopped basil, and homemade pasta covered with grated parmesan reggiano. Meals with flavor with an aroma delicious enough to make your mouth water. The tangy bite of citrus in a perfectly made lemon tart. Throw in a bottle of wine and I am a happy man. On the surface.
I am the same way with my clothes. Not my hunting clothes. Those are in a different category altogether. I am talking about my business clothes. Spending three hundred dollars on a pair of shoes once seemed to be an extravagance and a foolish one at that. Now I have three pair that I keep at the top of my closet to keep Max from eating them. I have a tuxedo and suits. I could wear a suit every day of the week without repeating one. They are tailored by a very strange man who lives near Baker Street. Christ, if i am not careful I will have as many suits as my father.
Ironic, isn’t it? The last thing I want is to turn into my father yet I seem to have inherited his love of good suits. And expensive shoes. I already have his fondness for a good glass of Scotch.
Once upon a time I was a homeless, broke, hungry, and scared kid from a small town with no idea how to protect myself or how to survive on my own.. Now I live comfortably in a two bedroom flat in London and I own my own business.. Did I ever think it would be possible? No, is the easy answer. Yes would be accurate to an extent that I knew I would not stay on the streets forever. What did I think I would do? Cooking. It was the one useful skill I had besides stealing. Cooking a meal for someone is legal, picking his pocket might get you sent to jail. If you get caught. I did get caught once. Officer Barbara Penrose. No relation to the cop I met in London. Rupert Penrose who told me I could call him Roo. I declined that offer. It reminded me too much of the kangaroo from Winnie the Pooh.
I would you bet you that he thought I was feeding him a line when I told him the story about my Penrose experience. I wasn’t. Why would I? I had been interested in a possible friendship, not a con job. It still bothers me to this day. I do have pride after all.
Officer Barbara Penrose was an amazon of a woman. As tall as me, strong, with beautiful dark skin and eyes that offered a hint of pity when she looked at me. She knew, and so did I, that I would spend some time at juvy for my offense. She was there to pick me up when I was released from juvy three months later. She took me home with her and feed me dinner alongside her own sons. I could tell it was not the first time their mom had brought home a stray. Human or otherwise. Her boys had a strange collection of pets. Dogs, cats, lizard, and a pigeon. Why would anyone want a rat with wings? They are a menace. And they carried nasty diseases on top of that.
I never forgot her kindness. Or the arrest. I made sure I would never be caught again.
What does this have to do with me now? Nothing. I just wanted to tell the story without anyone hearing it. Without anyone judging it.
AAK
January 7
A promise broken, yes, but it was a promise I never should have made. It was also one Sara should have never asked of me.
When I think back on it I can not help feeling she knew something was going to happen. A six sense? Premonition of danger? Either way it was a warning that the hunt would not be business as usual.
The case involved missing children and at first I believed that is what caused Sara’s odd reaction. She has a young son, my godson, Aiden. Was it simply a mother’s instinct or worry? Regardless, I started gathering all the data I could about the six young boys between the ages of three and six years old. No familial connection between them that I could find, no physical resemblance that would indicate a pattern, and no geographic center point. All the boys were simply gone. They went to bed at home and when the parents or in one case grandparents went to wake them the next morning their beds were empty. The only thing missing besides the child was a small toy. A small red fire truck, a sock puppet, and a stuffed alligator were listed for the first three boys. The next three had an action figure, a plastic turtle, and a toy bow and set. The last one struck me as odd since it was actually two pieces and significantly larger than the other toys.
For this reason I decided to start my search with him. Devon Renner, aged five. A sturdy looking boy with solemn blue eyes and a mop of brown curls. His father said Devon had complained the night before of someone watching him from the closet. The father thought it was a childish dream or an attempt to get permission to sleep in the boy’s older brother’s room. Devon had told the story for the last four nights and the father had grown tired of it. At first the empty bed had been thought of as a child hiding from his parents. But soon enough it was clear the boy was not in the house or the surrounding area. The police were called, a search party formed, and hours then days spent searching for him without any signs. The police interrogated the parents for days until they were forced to admit they had nothing to do with the little boy’s disappearance. The parent’s anger over the treatment is understandable but everyone knows the police look at the parent’s first.
But I am rambling on again. Let me start over. Six young boys disappear. No human cause has been found so I decided to look for a supernatural My first thought would be a coven of witches. (Forgive me, Sara) There are spells that use blood of the innocent, their hearts, and even the bones. Taking a child younger than six would guarantee the innocence needed for the work. I did research and found two covens in the area of the disappearances. One a small ground of fourteen hereditary witches, most of them related by blood, who willingly talked to me about the search for the children and offered to help with it. Now this could be seen as a sign of innocence or as a very clever trap to pull me in, find out everything I know, and work to destroy any evidence that I might have. Since I had nothing of any significant importance to offer I felt safe enough talking to them about the boys. The leader, a woman named Turi, invited me into her home then offered to do a location spell on the child. I was able to offer a small pair of dinosaur pajamas that I kept in a plastic ziploc bag. Devon’s mother had given it to me when the search dogs had been called off. (I conveniently forgot to return it) Three other women of the coven joined us for the meeting. I thought it was a bit of overkill for the simplicity of the spell but Turi explained they would be searching the spirit world as well as the physical plane. At the time I made a mental note to ask Sara about this later. Long story short the witches concluded that Devon had already crossed over but his body could be found less than forty miles from his home. The youngest witch was able to sketch a crude map of the area. After eating a simple meal of bread, wine, cheese, and salt I took my leave of them. Sara would kill me if she knew I shared bread and salt with them Now they believe they have a link with me. Do I believe it? No, I do not.
The second coven of witches was a group of three kitchen witches. Well meaning women who offered their healing skills to those in need. Not the people I was looking for but the older one did give me a piece of advice. It is not relevant to the case so I will be keeping it to myself.
I wish I had taken the time to write down all of this when it happened. In attempting to recall the details I have gone on about the non-important stuff too much. I used the map to find Devon’s body at exactly the location the witches had mentioned. There were four other sets of bones which I knew had to belong to a child. Because of the size. This means there is one boy left and hopefully still alive. This brought me out of my anger long enough to notice two clues that would later prove to be vital to solving the case. It also reminded me of one thing I had forgotten. Do not let your emotions rule you. But with children who can keep themselves from feeling anger and rage? The same with animals. Not with spiders.
Max and I need to take a walk so I will continue this later.
AAK
January 9
I have lost track of the multiple lies I have told in the last three days. Lies of omission. Lies meant to deceive. More than one lie told to protect the people I care about. Would they forgive me if they knew how often I lie to them? I wouldn’t. I hate to be deceived. Maybe it’s because I have to lie so often? Could it be the reason I hate to be lied to?
I am sitting here writing about deception while drinking a cold cup of coffee. I need a refill of fresh coffee and a change of subject, I think. No. I know I need fresh coffee. The subject will still be here when I get back from the kitchen. Unfortunately so.
Deception comes easy to me these days. I have been doing it for so long it has become second nature to me. I started lying shortly before my seventeenth birthday. When I left home. I have even started to believe the lies myself. I am an ordinary photographer, a business owner, and a proud pet owner. Nothing else.
Except that it a lie.
Some people hide behind the mask of the ordinary. Appearing to be ordinary is the best camouflage, no one notices the common man. It's a lesson that has served me well in personal and professional life.
It reminds me of a poem I read somewhere. I don’t remember all of it but it went something like this: Faces shown to friends and lovers see closer but never discover the person only I see.
That is the lesson I learned on my first solo hunt over seventeen years ago. I killed a Rugaru by burning him alive in an abandoned farmhouse in Nebraska. He was a perfectly ordinary looking man until his skin started to change when the hunger for human flesh overtook him. HIs eyes went black and matched the veins starting to run up the side of his neck.
Even the name he was using at the time was unremarkable. David Maxwell. No one would have guessed he was responsible for death of three men. But I did. There were clues if you knew where to look. JAnd I played udge, jury, and executioner.
After a day of observation I made the decision he had to die. If he had shown any sign of remorse or regret I might have gone easier on him when I killed him His death costs me two broken fingers on my left hand, three cracked ribs, and the first scar I earned since becoming a hunter. How many more have I earned? I lost count years ago.
Another lie. I know exactly how many scars I have. I could tell you the story of each and everyone of them.
It also taught me to hide in plain sight. A useful skill that has served me well over the years. Even the photograph I took of the burning building is deceptively ordinary. It seems to be nothing more than a snapshot of an old farmhouse at the end of its life. In truth it is a trophy of sorts. Documentation of the monster’s death. Of vengeance for the dead.
I am an ordinary man who is also a killer, thief, and liar.
Another poem comes to mind:
Of Myself
I have become a prisoner
Who
For all the struggle mounted against
The walls of my existence
Will never be free
For not only am I the prisoner
I am the guard.
I wish I could remember who wrote it. Or where I read it.
AAK
January 10
*Mary S. age 27, apparent suicide
*Kimberly M. age 25, accidental overdose
*Maggie H. age 32, drowning
*Alison K. age 26, strangled
*Jeannie O. age 34, apparent suicide
*Olivia N. age 35, undetermined
*Kathy R. age 37, apparent suicide
It took me three hours of research to find the connection between all the dead women. I would be it would take Sherlock Holmes less than half an hour to find it but I do not have the connections with the police that he has. Or the arrogance. Or John Watson.
Each woman had bought a gift from a vendor in the Camden market. Two of them had paid in cash and rest with credit cards. I researched the shop and found it sold knick knacks and curios. Not the cheap kind, no, it was a step above that. The business had been there for eight months and before that it was based in Liverpool. I did not find anything tied to the business before Liverpool even after hours of searching.
Rachel M. age 37, drowning
Megan Mc age 25, apparent suicide
Sarah W age 27, apparent suicide
Juliana A age 41, accidental overdose
Tara B age 22, drowning
Mariah H age 19, accidental overdose
Illeana M age 43, drowning
Another few hours of research on my laptop and I found another seven women who died under strange circumstances. Suicides without a note are rare enough for women that the police made note of it in each case. A pattern that was easy to find if one started looking deep enough and had the right motivation. It was time for me to visit the store. Max objected to my plan, of course. He was ready to curl up and sleep instead. He was right. It was too late to go tonight and frankly I was still sore from my work out. Damn, I am getting old. Or maybe soft? Either way, It will wait one more day.
AAk
January 11
I went to the Camden curio shop last night and….I do not know what the fuck it was. It was not human, I am sure of that. It seemed like a cross between a wraith and a veleta. Is that even possible? I need to research it. Later. Right now I am sitting at my desk with an ice pack on my knee and heating pad on my right shoulder. The creature was strong as hell and it was an effort to subdue it. I was sure the sounds of our struggle would alert the police but no one showed up. I was able to break off one of the spikes coming out of the back of the monster’s hand. It screamed in pain and was distracted enough for me to stick a dagger into his throat. The dagger was bronze. ( I keep track of the smallest details to help with my research. You never know when they will come in handy.) The gurgling made my stomach turn as did the black blood oozing from the wound in its throat.
What the fuck was it?
It took half an hour to clean up the signs of the fight and each moment felt like an hour. I would stop and listen for any hint of the police or a curious neighbor, thinking I would have to make a quick escape. But tonight I was lucky. I made my way home and had a plate of cold leftover spaghetti with Max. He loves the meatballs and I gave him two as a special treat. I finished off the last of a bottle of red wine before going to bed.
AAK
January 12
John Watson told me once that Sherlock shot holes in the wall when he was bored. At the time I thought it was an extreme reaction but right now? I would make a pattern on my office wall. Maybe an outline of a tree? Or a bird? No, a wolf. I love them with their fierce nature. Yet they are also protective of their pack and the young. Not to mention they are gorgeous creatures. In action and laying in wait for their prey.
Max and I often watch nature documentaries after work. For both of us it is a way to relax and to spend time together. Wild animals are easier to understand than humans, in most cases. At times we both envy the animals their freedom.
I need to do something soon or I will be arrested for shooting my damn wall.
3.45
No note, no drugs in the victim’s bloodstream, and no alcohol. It would be clear to anyone, if they bothered to look, that it was a suicide. A single car accident with no brake marks to indicate the victim tried to stop as the car hurdled towards the embankment. No seat belt was used to prevent injuries, the car had been serviced two days before and no mechanical defaults were found. The intention was clear so why did the police call it an accident? Was there some sort of connection between the man and the police? Or was the man who killed himself someone of importance? I will need to do more research on him. Maybe it is all an elaborate ruse. No one was actually hurt in the accident. It was an attempt to “disappear” a witness to an important case. Keep him hidden ad. It worked, sort of, for Sherlock Holmes. At least that is what I have read in the papers. I haven’t talked to John Watson in years. I know they are back together again. The gossip rags say they are raising John’s daughter together at Baker Street. To me this proves my interest in John was misplaced. Becoming a father or even a step father is not what I want out of life. I love my godson Aiden and would do anything for him but I have no interest in raising him. Unless something happened to Jax and Sara then I would take care of both of their children without hesitation. Family is family, after all. Sara is the only family I have. Harper Grace is blood but we haven’t seen each other in years. She was six when I left. Sara has been my friend and family for years. And here I am again wandering off topic again. It means I should go back to bed. Max is keeping my side of the bed warm for me. I hope.
AAK
January 13
I can take one thing off my bucket list as of today. I went parasailing. Considered it a late Christmas gift to myself. It was exhilarating! Almost as exciting as the hunt for the Veleta I went on last year. The freedom is hard to describe. Impossible for me, I think.
This leaves five more items on my list:
Going back to college.
Learning to play the piano.
Road trip across America with Max.
Learning a second language.
Being James Bond for a day. Isn’t that a song?
Some of the items are within reach. I could afford the trip to America and going back to college is easy enough if I commit to making the time for study. Learning a second language would be a challenge for me. I can only remember a few of the Italian words Izzy taught me. Not her fault, it is mine. I did not pay enough attention to it. I thought she would always be there to teach me. And I was too focused on learning about food. To my child's mind learning how to make fresh pasta was more important than the correct pronunciation of famiglia. I had a healthy appetite even back then.
Being James Bond for a day? Now that one is completely out of the question. Unless I put on my tuxedo and play pretend. Or do it on Halloween? No one would question it if I did. And I do look good in a tuxedo.
Max would make a terrible villain. He is too playful and sweet to be a bad guy. And who could a get to play the part of the Bond boy? The sexy new neighbor? I have had too many glasses of wine tonight. It is obvious by that last comment. I need to say good night before I start writing down my other fantasies about the new neighbor? I have had more than one about him. There is something about the way the man moves that makes me want to watch him, to see his muscles move without the clothes. I would like to explore his skin, taste it, see what makes the man tick.
AAK
January 15
Busy couple of days so I haven’t had time to finish my story about the missing boys. I wish I had been able to give Devon’s family good news but there was still hope for the one family. I had to focus on helping them. I went over the site where the bones had been found and noticed the dead bugs. Lots of them along with straw from what looked to be a make shift bed. I knew immediately what it meant. I was wrong. Witches were not involved. It was a Rakshasa. A particularly nasty shapeshifter who eats human flesh. But there were still questions. Why did it take the children instead of eating them and their families in their homes? And why the sudden hunger for children.? They would need to eat dozens of them to make up for their lack of size. The second thing I noticed was the tire tracks. Too narrow to be a truck so a small car. The back passenger tired left an odd impression in the dirt. A crescent moon? Strange but useful. It would make identifying the car easier.
I have spent too much time writing about this. It is starting irritate even me. What I eventually found out that it was in fact a Rakshasa. But it was being aided by a human. For the human it was simple case of greed, if you can call it that. He was willing to let others die to feed his own desire for money. The human could get into the house to take the children and the Rakshasa could impersonate anyone the human needed him to. It was the fourth boy taken who was still alive, by the way. Chris Baker. Both monsters were killed. One with a bronze knife and the other with a bullet between the eyes.
Eventually.
I took my time “talking” with him. If the talk involved blood, pain, and a lot of screaming no one would care. Except for Sara. She is afraid I am turning into Gideon. (His voice will haunt me until the day I die.) I know I am not but I am using the techniques he used on me to my advantage. No one can say I am not a fast learner. Do I get a certain amount of pleasure from listening to his screams. Yes. I consider it payback for the tears of the heartbroken parents. Blood for blood. Sara does not need to worry about it. I was still in control of the situation. My rage was kept in check the entire time. When it was all over I placed a call to the police and told them where they could find Chris. I watched him from a distance to make sure he was safe and that I would not be recognized. It was to protect both of us.
I left out too many small details that would make this story interesting to others. But I am the only person who will read it so it works out in the end.
AAK
January 18
I ran into an old friend today. Cameron Devereaux is in town for a language conference and happened to be at the hotel where I was meeting a possible client for lunch. Cameron wears glasses now and they look good on him. I can finally understand the term sexy librarian. My client was amused by my momentary distraction and told me to leave him alone to make a phone call. If he decides to sign with the studio I am going to give him a discount.
Cameron and I spent ten minutes talking before I had to get back to my client. We agreed to meet back at the hotel at six for dinner. Even after all the years apart I remembered what he liked.
We did not split up because of my job or his. Or lies told between us. It simply came down to the fact he wanted children and a husband and I did not. I would have kept our relationship going but Cameron drew a line in the sand. I refused to move from my side and so did he.
I took Max out for an early walk after feeding him. I explained that I would be home late or early depending how the night went. Max did not seem interested in the conversation at all. I left him on the sofa and went to my bedroom, whistling off key as I looked in the closet. I hoped that the evening would end with us going back to his hotel room so I took great care in shaving and picking out suit I knew Cameron would approve of. When I finally left Max was still asleep on the sofa and I did not wake him.
Dinner was successful. We discussed our lives and what we had been doing since the last time we spoke. He told me about how his brother Mason had lost his wife and the man’s flirtation with alcoholism. I had met Mason a few times and enjoyed his company and his easy going manner. I asked Cameron to pass on my sympathy and the conversation moved onto another topic. We drank and flirted, both of us clearly aware of where we would be ending up at the end of the date.
And we did end up in his hotel room. We spent most of the night getting caught up with each other without using any words. The sex was as good as I remembered and we made plans to see each other again before he left town. I left around four in the morning and came home to find Max asleep by my office door. I had forgotten to leave the bedroom door open so he could go to bed. I offered an apology and Max wagged his tail to show there were no hard feelings. He is waiting for me now so I should sign off and get to bed.
AAK
February 3
Max is in love. A friendly A friendly little blonde cocker spaniel caught his attention at the park today. Her name is Flossy and her owner’s name is Jules. Good looking man with blonde hair and bright blue eyes who clearly adores his dog almost as much as I love my Max. They must be new to the area because I had not seen them at this part before. I shared my lunch with him while our dogs played in the park. By the time we left the park Max was exhausted and I had Jules’ number. If our dogs are in love we have to keep in touch, don’t we?
My dog has a better love life than I do. I am sure it doesn’t surprise anyone. Max has a better personality than I do.
AAK
February 8
I am too damn sober to deal with this shit. Mrs Ferguson does not understand that I am not a miracle worker. I can not turn a piece of coal into a diamond. I should not be so harsh on her. She is a lovely woman but doesn’t see it. I have talked to Mrs Ferguson about this before. Multiple times. Last Christmas, her birthday, her anniversary. I do not photoshop my work. If she wants airbrushing to make her face look thinner she should hire someone else. I can not alter the photos to make her look thirty pounds lighter. What I can do is show the laugh lines that her husband adores or capture the look of affection she displays every time she talks about her twins.
Photographing abandoned buildings never caused me this much stress. I never had to argue with an old car about the correct lighting techniques. My job would be easier if the people who hired me would trust me.
And they did not talk.
AAK
February 9 7.50 pm
My hand is shaking as I write this entry. Not with fear, with excitement. I had a meeting with a new client today. Mr Owen Lawrence. He hired me to photograph sites related to his family’s history. He wants me to travel to Portugal, Spain, Germany, and four other countries. I would get to travel across Europe and get paid for it. Strike that. I would get paid extremely well for it. The perfect job! Only problem is it starts next week. I will have to do a lot of juggling with my schedule to clear up the time. But with the money i’d make I wouldn’t have to worry about expenses for a few months. The man is made of money and does not mind spending it.
I asked him why he did not travel himself then felt like kicking myself. What if he changed his mind? Instead, a look of sorrow appeared on his face. His mother has early onset Alzheimer’s disease. He wants to be able to show her the photographs before she forgets who he is.
Christ, I’m getting soft in my old age. My first impulse was to offer to do the job for free. The more cynical side of me decided to do a little research and see if he is telling the truth. Then I can offer a discount if he’s being honest.
I will ask Sully to do a background check tonight.
AAK
February 9 8.45 pm
Second journal entry for the night. Mrs Ferguson left a message for me at the studio. She apologized for her comments and said she thought about it and appreciated my honesty. This made me laugh and I had to listen to the message again because I missed part of her comments. She wants to reschedule for another session and this time swears she will follow my advice instead of ignoring it. I would bet a tenner she keeps her promise for ten minutes.
People surprise me all the damn time.
AAK
February 10
Sully sent me the background check and my client checks out. His mother is sick just as he said and the deadline is possible. I will send him the itinerary tomorrow for the final approval.
Max looked for his friend Flossy at the park today. When he could not find them he spent time playing with an English bulldog named Bruno but his heart wasn’t in it. I told him Jules and Flossy would be coming to dinner in two days and he seemed to cheer up.
I realize that I talk about Max as if he is a real person. There is a limit to my insanity.
Also, I have a new neighbor. Tall, fit, attractive, and from the way he moves he spent time in the military. Max thinks we should welcome him to the neighborhood. At least that is what he told me last night. I am fluent in dog speak, you know. Yes, I am blaming the idea on my dog. He is my best friend, he won’t mind.
AAK
February 12
Tonight I cooked dinner for Jules while his dog Flossy visited with Max. Fresh pasta, sheep’s milk ricotta, seasonal vegetables, and meat seasoned with peppercorns and herbs fresh from the market. I spent hours preparing the antipasto platter with it’s green and black olives, artichokes, four different kinds of sliced cheese, salami and three other types of dried meat. A wild greens salad with olive oil was made at the last minute because I wanted to make sure there was enough food.. The bread was fresh from my favorite bakery along with a variety of pastries for dessert. Including my favorite lemon tart. Jules provided the wine. He has excellent taste in wine due to his family background. The vineyard his grandparents own is in France. Shame because I avoid the country since Margo’s death two years ago. I still feel guilty. I avenged her but…
I had to take a break from writing earlier. The memories are hard for me to deal with at times. It is easier to get up and take Max for a walk than it is to see how I failed my friend.
Jules and I talked about our childhoods, of school, and our ambitions for the future. He has a plan for wine bar but is still working on the financing of the project. His mother seems to be a stumbling block for the financing of the bar. I wanted to ask more about it but the subject was changed when the dogs wanted to go for a walk.
Flossy and Max enjoyed their trip to the park and their owners did as well. At least I did. The conversation wasn’t as personal as it had been in the flat. Jules is interested in an Australian who does not seem to recognize or return his interest. We both seem to be in the same situation. Interested in men who aren’t interested in return.
AAK
February 13
Mrs Ferguson’s appointment was today. We were twenty minutes into the session when she started to second guess me. All I had to do is put down my camera and start walking away. She stopped and laughed nervously before apologizing. She admitted that she does that frequently and I am one of the few people who calls her own it. Oddly enough, I think she respects me for it.
I could tell she wanted to ask questions on more than one occasion but she kept her word and did not interrupt me again. When the session ended we sat down and then I listened to her concerns. It helped both of us, I think.
I think she will be happy with the photographs.
AAK
February 14
Valentine’s Day. I am single and without a date. On purpose. Mostly. I went to the Blue Post of a drink and one of Marco’s specials. I didn’t know what he would be serving but I knew it would be good. Maroc has a knack with pub food. And Malcolm, the bartender and owner, is smart enough to take advantage of it. He allows Marco to plan all the meals and the weekly specials. Malcolm then comes up with a cocktail that goes along with special. Tonight’s cocktail was a Broken Heart. Bit too sweet for my taste and I quickly switched back to drinking beer. Malcolm chatted when he could but business was brisk.
Malcolm was playing off the idea of single people on Valentine’s Day. The broken hearted, the lonely, but not the ones who were looking for love. It was not a party to look for a date. Or a hook up.
AAK
February 19
(The next week will be spent traveling. I will journal when I can.)
I am leaving today for Portugal and working on the Lawrence project. The first stop is one of the volcanic islands, Angra do Heroismo. It is nine hundred miles from the mainland. I had planned on visiting on my second day but Mr Lawrence requested I start on the island. Since he is paying the bills I could not argue.
The town hall was located in the central square. There were dozens of alleys and roads that branched off from the square. It seemed to me that each one ended with a church or fort. Or a palace. It was amazing and I spent hours taking photos before moving on to photograph the cliffs and the bright blue of the sea that surrounded the island.
My next stop in Portugal was Guimarães. It’s known for its extraordinary architecture and the role it played in forming the history of Portugal. Some of the buildings go back to the sixteenth century. I spend an hour photographing one the castles. I had the impression I could reach out and touch the history. It was in the air. There were Goth castles as well but I spent little time with them. Mr Lawrence was clear about which ones needed my attention.
I went to the Praça de Santiago for lunch and a cup of coffee. It was a long leisurely lunch and the food was delicious. I spent much of the time chatting with other visitors who wanted to talk to an American about what was happening in America at the time. Fortunately or not, I was not able to give them first hand information but I did pass on what I had heard from Sara and Jax. I answered their questions about how Trump could be taken seriously enough to be elected. It was not a pretty picture but it was honest. We parted ways since I had to catch a train.
The train ride back to the city was uneventful. I listened to music and watched people.
AAK
February 20
I visited Spain today. Specifically the town of Seville. Mr Lawrence wanted photographs of Alcazar castle and the bullring built in the eighteenth century, Plaza de Toros de la Maestranza. I spent about three hours taking the photographs before spending the rest of the day exploring other parts of the city. The tomb of Christopher Columbus was intriguing to me. I thought of the history we were taught in school and how different it was from the actual truth of the situation.
Then I visited the medieval Jewish section of Santa Cruz. The orange lined streets and the cobblestoned alleys were stunning. Another place where it was possible to smell the history of the area. Or maybe it was the trees? I need to stop writing and work on the email for Mr Lawrence. While drinking a bottle of the red wine I picked up last week.
Tomorrow I leave for Germany. I will be spending several days there since Mr Lawrence’s family has a long history there. I am hoping to spend a little time doing sight seeing on my own.
AAK
February 21 3.45
God damn flight was delayed for four hours. I hate flying but I realized today that sitting on a tarmac for four hours is worse. You can not leave your seat because the plane might be called to leave at any moment. No crying babies but there were several very cranky businessmen who did not hesitate to let their displeasure known. To everyone. More than once I was tempted to have a talk with one or two of them about treating people with respect. Since it was a working trip I couldn’t start drinking yet. But I would. If the damn plane would ever get off the ground.
I need to put away my journal now. The old woman next to me keeps trying to look over my shoulder to see what I am writing. Good luck with that, ma’am. My handwriting is worse than a doctor’s.
9.15
I was finally able to get checked into the hotel and shower. Christ, I would give anything (except Max) to be able to teleport instead of flying. I needed to get the stench of the airplane off my skin before I could even start my day of work. After two hours of relaxing I took off with my trusty camera. My first stop was the reconstructed Altstadt (Old Town) which is the site of Römerberg, a square that hosts an annual Christmas market. I would love to see it during the holiday season. Photographs were taken and I did a little shopping for souvenirs as well. I found a carved wooden cat to add to Adriana’s collection. I had the cat sent to her boat. I didn’t trust the airlines not to lose it.
The next stop was the Goethe house and museum. I honestly did not have any interest in this stop but it was required. I made sure my photos did not reflect my personal feelings for the place. Mrs Lawrence as fan, apparently. Maybe I would have enjoyed it more if I knew more about Goethe when I started.
Cathedral of St Bartholomew. What can I say about it? Gorgeous. Awe inspiring? I admit I spent too long at the site before continuing on to St Paul’s Church. I did not find it as intriguing as the Cathedral. But I took enough photos to keep the client happy, I hope.. After the churches I went to the Hauptwache in the historic district of the city. I had a beer in the outdoor shopping center along with a quick meal of sausages and potatoes.
I made five other stops before heading back to my hotel. Instead of eating in the restaurant I ordered room service. I was too tired to deal with conversation and quite frankly I was missing Max. I called Caleb and he sent me a photo of Max asleep on the sofa with his son. Caleb’s son, not Max’s. Damn, I need sleep.
AAK
February 22
Romer. I started out the day at the city hall. I believe it was founded in 1405? The typical Hessian half-timbered houses is definitely a must-see for tourists, that was clear. The place was already crowded by the time I arrived. There was a plaque that told how half the historic buildings had been restored after the bombings during World War Two. I visited the museum before making my way to one of the shops and picking up a souvenir for Adriana. It was a postcard of Romer square painted by a famous artist.
The rest of the day was spent checking off items off the list Mr Lawrence had provided for me. Some of them more interesting than other. The cathedrals and churches were my favorite followed closely by the history museum.
The night was my own so I went to a local bierhaus and joined in with the drinking and eating. If I ended up going back to my hotel with a fellow American named Caine, well, it is not something Mr Lawrence needs to know about.
We went for a second round before he left sometime around three in the morning. Talent mouth. I gave him my business card and told him to call if he ever made it to London.
AAK
February 23
Today I will be taking the train to Munich. Mr Lawrence had a relative who participated in the Olympics there. Fortunately, not one of the many who were killed in 1972. If I had time there are several places I would like to visit on my own. The Olympic Stadium and Park, BMW museum, The English Park and its beer garden and sunbathers. Also, the Jewish museum since I would love to learn more about the history. The Beer museum because, well, it is beer. Who doesn't love beer? Good beer, not the crap my fellow Americans call beer.
And how could I forget the zoo? I could spend hours exploring it if I had the time. I could take pictures of the penguins for Aiden.
Nymphenburg Palace (summer home of the Bavarian monarchs)
Neues Rathaus (the new town hall)
The fairy tale castle (too lazy to look up the spelling)
Museum of Modern Art
Church of St Peter
Three other churches.
The Dachau Memorial
Long day and I ended the evening at Hofbrauhaus, a famous Bavarian restaurant. It was worth every penny I charged to Mr Lawrence’s account. I get to sleep late tomorrow before catching my flight to Denmark.
AAK
February 24
Endelave Island. Population one eighty five. I could easily run the length of the entire island. It is only five miles. The only things of interest are the gardens and harbour. Except for the rabbits, seals, and birds. The beaches were unremarkable compared to ones I had seen elsewhere. Perhaps my own personal feelings are influencing the way I view the island.
I should say there are no historical buildings to photograph instead. I am still not sure why Mr Lawrence wanted photos of the ships at sunset. But I do not need to know, do I? He is paying the bills.
I was airsick on the way to the island. Sara would be hysterical with laughter if she knew. The little four seater plane was hell. Turbulence made it even worse. I would swear the landing strip ended a foot from plane. Never again.
Never again is defined as half a million or more. In cash. In advance.
I spent the rest of the day traveling by ferry to the neighboring islands. Some of them were truly spectacular. I plan on keeping several of the photographs I took today for myself. I sent a quick email to Adriana and asked her if she missed me. No answer before I went to bed so I will check in the morning.
AAK
February 25
It would have made sense to go to France first but I was secretly grateful that Mr Lawrence insisted on visiting Portugal first. I have avoided France for a very good reason. Too many memories of two lives I was unable to save. Brutal honesty would make me admit I was not in the country when the murders happened. Realistically I could not have stopped Margo’s murder. Or her body guard. But I still feel responsible for them.
I did receive a letter from Margo after her funeral. The psychic knew she would die if she went to Paris. She knew and went anyway. She saved a life and lost her own. But if you think about it she cost two lives. Hers and the bodyguard. He had loved her for years so it seems that he knew and was willing to die by her side.
Christ, I am rambling again. I haven’t even been drinking. I blame it on the city. It is time for me to shut up and face reality of the situation even if I do not want to.
I did it. I photographed all the sites Mr Lawrence requested along with half a dozen more. I can not say I enjoyed any of it. Except for the pastries. That would be the one thing I approve of in the city. I sent a cell phone picture of the pastry selection to Adriana.. She sent an emoji of someone crying. Or maybe it was drool? I really do not understand them. Or text speak. Too old for it.
I will be leaving France in the morning. After today I deserve a bottle of wine along with my dinner.
AAK
February 26
I arrived back to the flat hot and cranky and ready for bed. The first thing I did was text Caleb to let him know I was home. The second was to take a shower. Fifteen minutes later I fell into bed barely dry and naked. Three hours later I hear knocking at my door and familiar bark. With a yell I jumped out of bed and pulled on the closest pair of jeans. When I opened the door Max came close to knocking me down in his excitement. Caleb just stood there and laughed at our antics. I did not care. I missed my best friend and it was clear that he missed me too. It took a good twenty minutes for Max to calm down enough so Caleb and I could talk about the trip.
Tomorrow I plan on putting together the portfolio for Mr Lawrence. Tonight all I want is to relax with Max and eat something homemade. Pasta is quick and easy. Or maybe grilled cheese with soup. It depends on what I have in the kitchen. The fridge is not stocked since I was out of town for the week. I will have to do the shopping tomorrow. I can work on a list after Max and I go for our morning run.
I will need to skip my regular Saturday cheat day. I gained six pounds on this trip and my jeans a little tighter than I like. I think Max gained at least three pounds from all the treats Caleb’s kids feed him and has painted toe nails. Green. Caleb’s girls even braided his hair. He did not seem to mind but I took the braids out anyway. I do not want the other dogs laughing at him tomorrow. Especially Flossy.
AAK
February 28 11.27
I will be meeting with Mr Lawrence and his mother this afternoon. Is it bragging to say it is one of my best works? If it is no one will know. No one reads my journal except for me. Not even Sara. Damn, I lost track of time. I need to call Adriana before I leave for the Lawrence’s house.
4.35
A bonus. A fucking twenty percent bonus. Mr Lawrence was thrilled with my work and decided I deserved it. Unfortunately, his mother was rather confused by the entire situation. We spent longer than I expected talking about the photos and my impression of the cities. Mrs Lawrence was charmed by my accent and my story telling. Hunters are natural born storytellers. by the way. We have to be. The three of us parted ways after sharing an afternoon tea. Mr Lawrence said he would recommend my studio to his business partners. I will be a very happy man if they pay as well as Mr Lawrence.
On the way home I bought Max a bag of his favorite treats (not new shoes), Indian take out, and a bottle of whiskey. The new neighbor was outside and I came close to asking him to join us for dinner. He does look good in jeans. And he carries himself with a certain arrogance that suggests he would know how to take care of himself in any situation. Dead sexy is what it is really. See? I can use slang too.
Maybe next time.
I need to come up with a name for him. Mr M? It stands for Mister Mysterious. Or Mr H? Handsome?
AAK
March 1
There was a photo of Miguel Rios in one of the magazines at the vet’s office. A fancy art magazine left behind by a distracted patient? Or was Max’s vet a fan of abstract art? It does not matter really. I am still in shock. I have not seen Miguel since New York City. He still looks good. Black hair with just a hint of grey and the flashing brown eyes that I loved so much. I was seventeen when we met and was about to turn eighteen when we split up. He was sexy as hell at eighteen, full of vibrant energy and passion. That is what caught my eye, well, that and his hands. They could work magic with a paintbrush or a can of spray paint. I was smitten (to use my grandmother’s words) from the second time we spoke. I look back on it now and realize it was my first real experience with attraction to another man. What I mean is I knew I was sexually attracted to me, this was the first time I acted on it.
We spend most of our time together and it wasn’t long until kisses turned to hand jobs in the back room of the diner where Miguel worked. He lived there too, sleeping by the desk in the owner’s office. Three months later we had anal sex for the first time. It was slightly painful, awkward, and it was months before I was willing to be on the receiving end again. I never enjoyed it as much as I did topping but I wanted to be fair to Miguel.
Looking back on it I realize that part of my nervousness was about losing my virginity in an abandoned church. I had been raised in the church after all and some of the guilt is still alive. And I learned to use more lube. Important lesson.
Miguel did well for himself. He is showing his art at a gallery here in London. I am tempted to go see him. I mean his work. Miguel would not recognize me after all this time. I’m sure of it.
But I will have my suit pressed. Just in case. And hit the gym a few extra times for the next two or three weeks.
AAK
March 2 9.25 pm
I had the dream again tonight. The fourth time in the last three months. The one with Gideon and his “friends’ in the warehouse. Three demons, low level ones.
Even after all these years I dream about it. Doubt I will ever stop. But that is normal, isn’t it? A trauma that you can’t deal with so your mind keeps playing the details over and over again.
In my dream I can smell the metallic coppery scent of blood mixed with the scent of my own fear and sweat. The dust added another layer to the smell. It is hard to describe it. Yet I would recognize it instantly. I can hear the screams too. My voice was husky due to the pain, the fear. A scream doesn’t have an accent. Strange thing to think about, I know. Gideon enjoyed the screams, I could tell by his laughter.
And the familiarity of the laughter is the thing that drove me mad that night. It was Daniel’s laughter. It was a sound I heard growing up and I had once loved hearing the sound of my brother’s laughter. Now it terrifies me. Torments me. Gideon knew it too. I swear I could see the demon who was using my brother’s body. Demons do that. Take over a person’s body to torment the original host’s loved ones. In this case, my brother’s hand was the one that left all the scars on my back. It caused the scars along my wrists and hands. It was his voice that I heard when Gideon whispered into my ears about his plans to drive me insane. Psychological torture combined with sexual assault. -He leans over and dry heaves into the trash can. The words had never been spoken aloud or written down. When he picks up the pen again his hand is still shaking, making the writing even harder to read.-
In my dream I was still tied to table with my back exposed. I could still feel the knife against my skin, hear Gideon telling me what his next move would be. Rape. Using my brother’s body to do it. I knew I could survive rape. But would not be able what Gideon had planned. It would destroy the memories of my brother and my sanity. So I did the first thing that came to mind. I pushed back against the knife, using the last of my strength. I remember feeling the searing pain along with a sense of triumph. Gideon would not win. He was not able to defeat me or drive me crazy. I remember hearing his screams before everything faded to darkness.
I found out later I had damaged my right kidney and came close to bleeding to death. Actually, I did die. How they saved me? No idea. A miracle? Or someone looking out for me, I don’t know. But I lived.
That’s how I met Royale too. I was out of my mind when I came to in the hospital and they contacted Sara who in turn sent Royale to my bedside. Have I written about it before? At the moment I can’t remember.
I did not want to live at times but it seemed to be out of my hands. I have been rambling again but in all honesty I am afraid to go back to bed. I doubt even Max’s warmth could keep me from being cold and scared tonight. Or stop the dreams.
12.25 am
Max and I took a walk to the park. Not the one by our flat because I did not want to run into anyone from our neighborhood. I thought the fresh air would help and it did for all of twinty twenty minutes. I stopped by and got bought a bottle of whiskey. Not the best quality because all I wanted to do is get blind drukn drunk. Drunk enough so I could fall asleep and stay that way until morning. I don’t care about the hangover I will have tomorrow. I have deelt dealt with them before and I am sure I will have to agian again.
I want a dreamless sleep. I need it and so does Max. I can tell he is upset by the way he is whining. He won’t leave my side either. I know he is afraid and that makes everything worse. Max’s fear fills me with guilt. How can I help him when I am afraid two too?
AAK
March 3
The new neighbor keeps odd hours just like I do. I noticed him when I came home from the studio last night. I am not sure if he spotted me or not. If he did I did not see any signs of it. I tell myself I’m not a stalker. I’m only looking out for my neighborhood, right? I could leave it up to Mrs Rhee, of course. She would love the chance to gossip. But why deny myself the chance to admire the man’s body? I’m only human.
And he is hot as fuck
AAK
March 5
The little boy was ice cold. At most he was three years old. His little body still had the signs of baby fat. I looked into his blue eyes and thought at one point they must have been filled with mischievous delight. His blonde curly locks reminded me of my own godson Aiden and I felt a tear run down my face. I wiped it away then checked the back of his neck. As I suspected there was a small puncture wound at the base of the little boy’s skull. A wraith had killed him just as it had killed two others in the small town. A man in his mid thirties and a young mother in her twenties. But this case was different. Wraiths rarely attack children so young. They feed on the memories of their victims. How many clear memories could a child of three have? I don’t remember anything from that age. I can ask Caleb about it too. Later.
My eyes are tired and I keep rubbing them. Maybe I am trying to erase the image of the little boy? I keep thinking about how much he looks like Aiden. I have had three glasses of whiskey so far and the memory still won’t go away. It is burned into my eyes, I think.
I wanted to kill it. Even more I wanted to make sure it suffered. To break off the creature’s spike, knowing how painful it would be until it grew back hours later. I wanted to watch it scream in pain as I broke off the spike for a second time. Then the third, fourth, fifth… And keep breaking them until all the rage passed and I could finally stick the spike into its own heart and watch it fall apart.
And that is exactly what I did when I managed to track it down four hours later and dealt with an attack in progress. It, it appeared to be male, was in the process of attacking another woman. She looked to be at least six months pregnant and fighting for two lives instead of just one. I was able to subdue the creature. Then I had to comfort the woman who was now crying after the adrenaline wore off. I could not and would not try to convince her she had dreamed the whole encounter so I told her the truth. I would not be fair to her. I think she was still in shock when the ambulance arrived. I hoped the baby would be alright.
There are times I hate what I do. Really honest to god hate it. Tonight was one of them. I would give almost anything to be able to forget the sight of the little boy’s dead body. I don’t even know his name. It’s another thing that will haunt my dreams for weeks to come. It is time for me to empty another bottle of whiskey. I won’t stop the dreams but it does make things fuzzy.
AAK
March 10
Max and I are staying at one of my hideaways for a few days. A hunt went south and one of the shapeshifters caught wind of my scent. I was wearing my juju charm but it seems to be in need of an update on the charms. If I had not killed its mate, it would not be chasing me right now. But it killed first and I did what had to be done.
I do not want it following me into my neighborhood. I can not put the others at risk. The flat has enough protection charms to confuse its sense of smell so I know he won’t find it on his own. If I go back, it will.
This place is a dump. It reeks of rotting food and stale cigarettes. Mold in the bathroom, three different layers of peeling wallpaper. Who designed that shit? One of them looks like cabbage on steroids with some kind of bird sitting on it. Orange feathers? The man who designed it must have been taking drugs when he thought of the idea for the wallpaper. On the other hand why did the person who lived here last pick it? Maybe I should be asking what drugs they took instead.
The bed is...I can not even call it a bed. It is a cot with one flattened pillow on it. I would not even let Max sleep on it. It is covered wit suspicious stains and smells of used litter boxes. I lived on the streets for three years and rarely smelled anything that bad. We decided to sleep on the sofa instead and tried to ignore the spring sticking into my back. As I tried to get comfortable it came to me that I could clean the place up. But why bother? I do not want to bring any attention to the place. It’s supposed to be a hideout and not a home.
Both of us will need baths when we get home. Delousing too. But at least the dump is safe. I have placed sigils around every possible entrance to ward off all but the most powerful of creatures.
Two more days. I hope we survive. Mentally, I mean. The filth might drive me insane.
And that Mrs Rhee does not catch us when we go home. I would never be able to stop her from gossiping about it to all the neighbors.
I wonder what Mr M is doing tonight? Probably sleeping better than I am.
AAK
March 12
I think it is time for me to write the story of the Djinn. It involves my old friend Agatha and a friend of hers. A sniper. I can not call him my friend although I have tried to be friendly with him. But he does not make it easy. He is surly, abrasive, and rude. Smart as hell. Good looking too. Completely uninterested in me, unfortunately. I would love to see if he is lying when he talks about a few of his abilities.
If I had to take a drink every time I thought about it I would be an alcoholic by now.
I drove to Scotland at the request of my old friend Abraham. Not really a friend but calling him a frenemy seems too weird. Too childish. We tolerate each other on the best of days. He briefed me on the situation. A pair of Veleta had been hunting in the area and needed to be taken out. Abraham was unable to do it on his own. An injury from a hunt earlier that year had healed badly and he wasn’t able to hunt anymore. Abraham was more than a little angry about this but was starting to deal with it. Proof? He called me.
On the second day I stumbled upon a Djinn in an abandoned warehouse. Or at least I thought it was one Djinn. Those bastards are hard to kill but I managed. I was in the process of clearing the area when its mate surprised me. I felt a searing pain in my shoulder and faint blue glow.
That is when the dream started. If you do not understand how Djinns work the next part of my story will not make sense. They infect you then feed of off the person’s energy. It can last for years since the infected individual never knows they are being destroyed. To them time is passing normally. The infection causes the person to enter a dream state which they see as reality.
In my reality I was a police detective in New York City. Agatha was my sister. She was married and was about to give birth to her first child. Her doctor was named Jacob and the attraction I felt was immediate. My awkward attempts to ask him out amused Aggie and her husband. Eventually the two of them set us up on a date. Three years after we met Jacob asked me to marry him in the cafeteria of the hospital. Aggie was less than impressed with proposal but was too distracted by her newborn son to bother Jacob with her complaints.
The wedding was simple. Again Aggie protested but was satisfied by my suggestion she plan the honeymoon. We went to Hawaii for a week. Jacob gave me valium for the flight and I spent the first night asleep while Jacob watched reruns on the television. Not the sexiest of times but we did laugh about it for years. We returned home days later. Both of sunburned and relaxed.
We bought a house together. We adjusted to married life. A police detective and a doctor. Our schedules were insane. So what did we do? We adopted a shelter dog and a week later added another dog to the family. Whiskey and Rye. A secret joke between the two of us. People thought we were being clever but it was really a nod to the first time we had sex. After three years of marriage Jacob brought up the idea of adopting. Within two years we had two children, Daniel and Abigail. A stray cat named Clyde eventually joined our strange little family.
We decided to buy a bigger house when we decided to adopt a third child, another daughter.
And that is when I woke up. Not on my own or even willingly. I was happy. No hunting, no danger, no death following me everywhere I went. Aggie and her friend had rescued me from the Djinn. Using a knife covered in the blood of a lamb they killed the monster. To me they also killed my husband and my family. It took months for me to deal with the depression that came after their deaths. My relationship with Agatha was never the same.
I remember her friend carrying me over his shoulder and calling me sleeping beauty. What a strange man.
AAK
March 16
Jax arrived in London this morning. He decided to make London the first stop on his business trip so we could see each other and have a business lunch. It was probably Sara’s idea. I decided to pick him up at the airport to give us more time to talk. While I waited I indulged in one of my favorite hobbies. I people watch. Then I make up stories to go along with the image they leave in my mind.
The kid playing Candy Crush at full volume on his iPad is doing it to get the attention of his father. His old man ignores him ninety percent of the time. The remaining ten percent? It’s when his father is annoyed with him. Some attention is better than none in the kid’s mind. Someday he will grow up and have children of his own. He decides to be a stay at home father to spend time with his own sons.
The one man bogarting the only two electrical outlets in the area by charging his phone, iPod, Kindle, laptop, microwave oven, and three big screen TVs. It’s an exaggeration, sort of. But the man is about to be murdered. I spotted a young hipster, two businessman, and grungy looking man with a beard banding together to kill him. They kept moving closer to him and I half expected to hear growling coming from their throats.
There was a man pacing the floor holding a giant bouquet of red roses and glancing at his watch. I decided he would be proposing to his long term girlfriend when she finally arrives. She has been gone for three weeks on an assignment in Germany. His pacing drew the attention of airport security and they would be escorting him to a room any minute. He would miss his girlfriend’s arrival and she would go home to their flat in tears.
I had just started a story about the haggard looking young mother when Jax’s flight finally arrived. We hugged and exchanged small talk as we waited for his luggage. I noticed the woman and more than one man watching Jax. He is one of the best looking men I have ever seen. If Sara hadn’t found him first…Oops. I managed to wake Max up. Guess I shouldn’t laugh so loud.
He showed me a picture of the kids as we went to my borrowed car. (I really need to buy one.) Nia’s neon green car with its various dents did not impress my friend. With a great deal of reluctance Jax got into the car and we made our way to my studio. He walked around the studio for over an hour before speaking again. Jax can be dramatic, obviously. When he finished he suggested a few changes then told me how much he admired my work. He also ordered a print of the Aiden photo. I will send him a bill for it too. Since he made fun of Nia’s car.
Jax insisted on taking me to dinner at Marcus’ which required another stop at my flat to change into a suit. The blue one was clean and Max hadn’t eaten the shoes that goes with it.
I hadn’t been to to the restaurant before and I was impressed the by the bright simplicity of the decorations. There was a potato and fennel bread serves with bright yellow butter. It had to be Irish. I had the quail starter with skin that was perfectly crispy. I had the Galloway beef. Jax had scallops topped with little purple flowers. Odd combination but he seemed to enjoy it. We both had chocolate for dessert. The meal was perfect and it did distract me from Jax’s subtle interrogation about my life in London. Sara wanted me to move back to New York City. I told him it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. I was happy. Max was happy. I was putting down roots in the city.
We skipped the tourist spots since Jax had seen them before. The rest of the day was spent talking business and I agreed to one more book before officially retiring from the business. I know he believes he could talk me into continuing or that Sara could. He is probably right about Sara but I have no intention of telling him that. I need some sort of leverage when we negotiate our next contract. I dropped Jax off at the Ritz and headed home to Max. He let me know I had been gone too long by pointedly ignoring me when I walked in the door. Usually, he jumps up with his tail wagging wildly. Tonight, he gave me the doggie equivalent of the cold shoulder. It cost me three treats to earn his forgiveness.
And an extra twenty minutes in the park.
Mr M was walking past too. Max tried to catch his attention. He is a loyal wingman, isn’t he? But the man did not seem to notice either of us.
AAK
March 18
I’m not Irish. Scottish is not the same. Just ask any Irishman. But close enough so I did not feel too guilty about drinking three people under the table yesterday. Adriana was not one of them, of course. For a small thing she can drink an amazing amount of alcohol, I would be declaring my love for Daniel Craig if I drank half as much as she did last night. Her expressions get even more pronounced as drinks too. I took a few pictures of her last night. I swear they aren’t for blackmail purposes. But I do have a few parking tickets I need taken care of. That is an old joke and I do not really need for her to fix the tickets. Or the library late fees.
AAK
March 19
Today is Darcy Jane’s birthday. My oldest sister and the second born Kincaid child. I do not know why I thought of her today. Our mutual dislike went back a long way. From birth would be a good guess, my birth not hers. I do not remember how it started. It was just part of us. Daniel tried to get her to be nicer to me but it turned out to be a waste of his time. Maybe she thought the family was perfect before I came along? Or she was more like our father than I liked or felt comfortable with.. She was cold, cynical, and arrogant even as a child. She found no value in the stories I told or the games I wanted to play. Daniel did. That is one of the reasons he was my favorite. So did Harper Grace, the youngest Kincaid.
Before he died Daniel told me she was trying to take over the family business. His vote and my proxy stopped her. I doubt she would forgive me if she knew I how much of the stock I had purchased over the years. Add it to the stock Izzy left me in my trust fund I owned a large portion of the company. The dividends from the were used to expand my stock portfolio. Jax handles all the details so I did not have to have any direct contact with my sister.
AAK
March 20
Yesterday I mentioned Grandma Izzy and the trust fund. It made me think of how lucky I am. If I hadn’t been snooping through my father’s desk and found the papers I would have never known about the fund. I was fourteen when it happened. Isobella Rossi was a wealthy woman before she married the man who would be my grandfather. They both added to the wealth and left all of it to be divided equally between their four grandchildren when they turn thirty. Until then all the interest from the trust funds were funnelled back into the accounts. None of it could be touched by my parents. If it had been all of it would be in my father’s bank accounts.
My fourteen year old self was shocked by the amount of money. Of course, at fourteen fifty dollars seemed like a fortune to me. Grandma Izzy lived simply and showed no sign of being wealthy. To this day I still remember the lawyer who drew up the trust funds. Who could forget a name like Beauregard Levin? It served me well later.
When I turned thirty I contacted the lawyer’s firm and was able to prove my identity. The money was added to my accounts with Jax’s assistance. When Daniel died (he was murdered. do not pretty it up for the sake of the journal) I inherited his share of the trust fund. Until then I never realized he had added me to his will. Why did he do it? He could have left all the money to either one of our siblings.
I bet it pissed off Darcy Jane. I am honest enough, at the moment, to say this pleases me. I do not like her and the feeling is entirely mutual.
Now I am getting angry at myself for even thinking about Darcy Jane. She never wasted a moment thinking about me and now I have wasted two journal entries talking about that person. Why am I doing this?
AAK
March 21
It was a shitty day from start to finish. Someone tried to break into the studio but the alarm system scared them away. The cameras picks up three men (?) but the images were not clear enough to make any sort of identification. The damage was minimal but the paperwork involved was enough to piss me off. It will also raise my premium and that is the last thing I want or need.
Then another dog attacked Max. Why the bastard wasn’t on a leash is something I intend to find out. I took Max to his vet and my best friend had to get stitches in his left leg. They shaved it! I was shaking with anger and more than one assistant gave me a strange look as I paced the hallways waiting for Max. Hurting Max is one of the things I can never forgive. Or forget. Tomorrow I will be hunting down the owner of that damn poodle. Who the hell has poodles anyway? Annoying twats.
Two clients canceled. Both of them were business accounts, not just portraits. I was grateful at the time but I won’t be when it comes time to pay the bills next month. My lunch order was wrong. Cold coffee. No lemon tarts. I gave up and took Max home, intending to stay in for the rest of the night. We could curl up on the sofa and watch nature documentaries. Max loves the rabbits, bears, and tigers I prefer the wolves.
But the best laid plans, right? Caleb called to tell me his brother had been injured and he needed my help. I had enough time to apologize to Max and shower before Caleb arrived at the doorway.
Six hours later I come home to find a note from Mrs Rhee and Max chewing on my yoga mat. He was unhappy and so was I. I planned on going to bed without reading the letter or cleaning up the mess. Please let tomorrow be a better day.
AAK
March 22
Caleb called me today. There was a tone in his voice that I had never heard before. Fear mixed with desperation. If I did not know better I would say my old friend had been crying. His problem involved his children. Caleb and Theresa have five children. The twin girls and the youngest, a boy, are his biological children. The oldest and third child are Caleb’s nieces. They were adopted after the death of his older brother and his wife. It is not commonly known, hell, it was two years before I realized they were adopted. Caleb considers them his children and would be furious if anyone suggested otherwise to him or his wife.
Mention it to his children and the unfortunate person might find himself with a broken bone or three. Caleb is a quiet man but fierce in his love for his family.
Today a lawyer called to inform him that the children’s grandparents have decided to seek custody. Why they waited years to do it is one point Caleb’s lawyer will need to address if it goes to court. Theresa has locked herself away in their bedroom and refuses to come out. Caleb said he could hear her crying through the door. The kids were scared. I listened to him rant for over an hour. It was the only thing I could do. I do not have any legal experience other than what I have seen on the TV. Old Matlock reruns and Law and Order.
In the end I went over to their house and cooked dinner for all of the kids while Caleb talked with Theresa. Max helped entertain the kids. He does not see it as a chore and loves all of the attention. And I loved playing uncle to the little ones. I miss my godson and this helped with the sense of loss.
I do not know what will happen with the kids. If I believed in god I would pray. Since I do not all I can do is be Caleb’s friend. And listen to him.
And be prepared to help him flee the country with the kids if he has to. I would do it. Without hesitation.
AAK
March 23
I have been thinking of Harper Grace a lot this week. She was so young when I left. Does she remember me? Does she remember me reading to her at night? Does she remember the stories I told her while braiding her hair on the front porch? Or the fact I was always her favorite. I was the one person who was able to get her to sleep at night or to calm down after she skinned her knees. She looked the most like our father with her red hair and freckles but she was more like Grandma Izzy than any of the rest of us. Warm heart and love for everything, everyone. She even named the rolly pollies we caught as children. Why I remember Rosie and Rachel? It’s one of the odd memories I have of my family.
After thinking about it all day I decided to hire someone to find her. I need to know if she is safe, if she is happy. Jax gave me a recommendation and I placed a call to the detective this morning. We agreed on a price and he said he would contact me with any news. I would have to dig into my savings account to afford him but it would be worth it. I hope.
Am I doing the right thing?
AAK
March 29
It must be the full moon. Too many strange things happened to do that I can not explain any other way. Not bad. Not dangerous. But just odd. It started at the park when a strange dog started running with us. It kept perfect pace with us as we circled the park. But Max did not seem to notice it or care that the dog was running on my left side. Traditionally that is the side Max runs on. The other odd thing is that no one claimed the dog. It was there and then it simply wasn’t. I shook off the feeling of oddness and headed back to the flat with Max following along, his tail wagging indicating his happiness.
On the way to the studio I was stopped three times by pedestrians and handed a golden token. Not that it was really gold, it could not be. But the coins were interesting and had a strange feel to them. A slight hum would be the best way to describe it. When I tried to question the people I was given a smile and a friendly wave before they walked away. The last one, an elderly woman with wild grey hair and purple floral dress, wished me luck. I thought for a second that it must be some sort of elaborate practical joke but I could not think of anyone who would want to pull off this sort of thing. Caleb, if he would pull off a prank, would be far less subtle. Sara knows how much I hate surprises and would never consider this kind of stunt. Adriana was clever enough but why would she do it? Anyway, I pocketed the coins and went up to the studio.
Everything inside seemed off. As if everything has been moved two inches to the left and turned around twice. Nothing was destroyed, thankfully. I would have killed if someone had been tampering with my work. Not literally. Okay, maybe not literally. A few of the prints I consider priceless and would be furious if they were destroyed. None of the equipment seems to be tampered with and after realizing this I sighed in relief. I didn’t want to replace any of the equipment. Insurance would cover the cost but not the sentimental value of it all. I spent hours, days even, researching just the right cameras, lens, and lighting for the studio. To replace it would seem to wipe away all the work I put into it. Stupid idea but I have been accused of having a few of them in my time.
On the way home another man, this one dressed in an odd assortment of vintage clothing, approached me. His coat was something straight out of Doctor Who and his accent was something just as odd. I have traveled across most of the country but this is one that I was not able to place. He offered me a small box wrapped in pale blue and silver print. I tried to ask him questions but he just gave me a jaunty salute and took off without a word of explanation.
When I arrived at the flat I halfway expected something strange to happen but it was only Max who greeted me when I opened the door. We settled in the have a simple dinner of leftover goat cheese pizza and a salad. I went to bed wondering if the enter day was some sort of joke or a really bad dream.
AAK
March 30
The dreams are always more intense this time of year. I have a suspicion as to why but I have never gone past thinking about it. Each year the memory of the dreams starts to pass once the month is over. I still dream the rest of the year but they are not the same sort of dreams. In other dreams I have felt as if I was living a different life, in a different time. In this dream I was dying.
It was a stupid way to die. My rueful laugh turned into a raspy cough before I spit up a mouthful of blood onto the ground next to me. I was started to forget the cold seeping into my skin from the gravestone I leaned against. Or maybe the cold was a sign death was near. For me.
I died in my prime saving an idiot who wanted to die. She was actively trying to become one the monsters I hunted. If I had known that from the start I would have let her die instead of running into a vampire’s den to save her. Not literally, even I am not that reckless or stupid. I carefully planned it. All except the part where the victim turns out to be on the side of the undead. When I tried to get her out she turned around and stabbed me in the gut. The shock sent me reeling and barely managed to escape and to find a hiding spot. In the cemetery. Not the most logical place to pick but my mind screamed for the quiet and peaceful. The old cemetery was silent in the middle of the night. I knew I would not last until the first visitor arrived in the morning. My cell phone had been lost in my struggle to escape and no one was expecting me back until later then next day. Maybe I didn’t plan as well as I thought?
I thought back to all the people I helped, the people I saved, and the people I have loved over the years. The flashbacks were in vivid color at first then gradually fading to a faded sepia as I grew colder. It really was a stupid way to die. Alone, cold, and wrong.
It was the feeling of wrongness that woke me from the dream. It seems that even in my sleep I hate the idea of being wrong. I did not want to bother Max so I got out of bed and went to my office. It is easier to face reality here. I can drink my coffee and stare at the laptop. Or at Gideon’s skull that sits on the corner of one shelf. It is in stark contrast to the picture of Aiden, Riley, and Sara that sits on the other side. Life and death. Exactly what my dream had been about. Trying to save a life and it only ends in death.
I need to get this off my mind. Writing it down helps but not enough. I think it is time to go for a run. If that works I plan on going back to bed. If it doesn’t I will be back here rambling on about a different subject to keep my mind off of my own death.
AAK
April 3
The Dixon Detective Agency called me today. They were able to track down Harper Grace and Darcy Jane. My parents were also located but I felt little interest in them. I wanted to know about my little sister. But when Mr Dixon sent me the file of information I put it in a drawer. I admit I was afraid of what I would find out. Was she dead? Was her life miserable? Was she happy? Had she turned out like our father? Or like Grandma Izzy? I have so many questions but I am too chicken shit to read the damn report. Daniel would be ashamed of me. Izzy too.
I will try to read the report tomorrow.
Maybe.
AAK
April 9
The report is still in my desk drawer. Unread. Unopened.
I have been tempted to talk to Adriana about the situation. She has good instincts and is one of the few people I would trust with the information. But it would not be fair to put her in an awkward situation. If something went wrong I do not want anyone to be hurt by it. If I am hurt I can deal with it. But I value Adriana’s friendship too much to risk it.
Max barked at Mr M today. It surprised the man and I gave him a smile followed by a quick wave before entering my flat. Someday I will get around to asking the man over for a drink.
Max and I spent the evening working on the next chapter of my book. Meaning, I wrote while Max kept my feet warm. His snoring became background noise to the sound of my typing. When I write professionally I type but when I write for myself it is with an old black pen and a journal. Weird.
AAK
April 10
Another salt and burn tonight. I can not help but laugh at the situation. Not at the man’s death certainly. But the fact he was haunting a bakery. The man’s name was Seth Goldman and he died suddenly three months ago. He started haunting the bakery he owned within a week of his burial. Small things would suddenly be across the room, flour would be thrown at a lazy apprentice baker, and a cookbook would be opened to his favorite recipe at random times of the day. Or night. His partner set up security cameras in an attempt to find out what was happening. No sign of anyone but there were signs of cold spots when he observed the other bakers shivering in the middle of the room. After six weeks of dealing with the odd occurrences he finally contacted a friend of a friend who gave him my name. It took him another three weeks before he gathered the courage to call me.
We met over lunch and he briefed me on the facts of the case and I made notes of where Seth had been buried. It seemed simple enough to arrange to have access to the graveyard and dig up the grave. When I opened the coffin I noticed a picture of a cookbook and an apron. It seemed odd and the memory stayed with me.
I burned the body then reburied the coffin. When I got home I thought the job was done.
I was wrong.
At four in the morning I get a call from Seth’s partner saying the alarms had gone off at the bakery when flour, eggs, and various other baking ingredients were thrown about the bakery. The place was a mess and he was angry. I agreed to meet him at the bakery and left Max asleep on the bed. On the way there I remembered the odd photograph and almost yelled in triumph. There had to be a connection between the two items that caused Seth to stay on this side of the veil instead of crossing over. A lock of hair, drops of blood, or even a stray toenail could prevent the salt and burn from working properly. When I arrived at the bakery I asked to see the items and Seth’s partner flat out refused to let me destroy them. I told him Seth’s spirit would continue to haunt the bakery and would get more and more violent over time. He raged for what seemed like hours but was only thirty minutes until we finally arrived at a compromise. I would burn the apron first to see if the haunting stops. It did not take long to destroy the apron and as I was cleaning up the mess the morning shift started and I headed home with a fresh cup of hot coffee and an apple turnover. Max greeted me with an annoyed look then turned around three times and went back to sleep. On my pillow.
I will find out tomorrow if it worked.
AAK
April 11
It did not work. If anything the ghosts behaviour was even worse. This time it actually aimed for and hit two of the bakers. Seth’s partner agreed to meet me with the cookbook. He dropped the book as he was handing it to me and a faded letter fell out. It was addressed to the man’s partner and his face paled when he read it. He did not share the information with me and I did not ask. He just handed me the book and asked me to destroy it. Half an hour later the deed was done. I never heard from the man again and there were no rumors of a haunted bakery so I consider the hunt a success. It is my belief that Seth wanted his partner to have the letter and that is why he refused to cross over. It is one of the things I find difficult to deal with during a hunt. The fact that answers are not always final. There are doubts and questions that will never really be resolved.
The rest of the day was unremarkable. No clients were scheduled so I took Max to the park. We spent hours playing catch and I took more photos than I care to admit of my dog. Some people might say I am a bit too fond of my Max. He is my best friend, of course, I love him. Everyone does. He is curious, friendly, and frankly the best dog I know. No offense to Adriana’s feline friends but dog do rule. Don’t tell her I said that, Max. She will give me one of her looks again.
It was a quiet night at home too. I turned on Robert Johnson and sang off key while I chopped vegetables for the night’s dinner. Part of them went for minestrone soup and the rest were thrown into a spaghetti sauce. I was not following any of the recipes I memorized over the years. I was just using what I had and playing off the flavors that I enjoy. Soon the scent of garlic and onion filled the kitchen and my mouth started to water. Max would look up occasionally and check on me. I think he was hoping I would “accidently” drop something on the floor for him to clean up. Instead, I gave him one of his doggy treats and he seemed happy enough. While the sauce was bubbling on the stove I started making fresh pasta for it. I made a well of the flour and carefully added the eggs to its center then began the process of mixing the two together. When it was at the right consistency I ran it through the pasta machine a few times until I had fresh spaghetti. Nothing beats having fresh pasta with a homemade sauce. Unless you can add fresh cheese to the top of it. Unfortunately, I do not have any and I will have to make due with cheese from the grocery store. I opened a bottle of red wine to let it breath while the sauce continued to cook. I wanted to cook off some of the sharp flavor of the tomatoes, leaving only the sweetness behind. I tasted the sauce and added a pinch of dried basil to it before giving it another stir. Then the smell told me I had the sauce exactly right. Finally. I made a simple bruschetta of roasted garlic, tomatoes, and mozzarella before setting the table with a bowl of salad and a glass of wine. The salty water finally boils and I toss the spaghetti in and let it cook until al dente. Ten minutes later I sit at the table with a perfectly cooked me and then it hits me that I did all of this for myself. That I am alone again instead of having someone I love to cook for. It put a damper on the meal but I am not one to turn away food unless I am sick. The music changes to an old Jonny Lang song and I closed my eyes for moment as the words washed over me. I love his older music, the newer stuff had a religious slant to it that did not sit well with me. I have not been to a church since I left Moss Point. No, that is not true. Miguel and I often used the old abandoned church as a meeting place when we were together in New York City. I should say instead that I have not been to a sermon since I left home all those years ago. The food was great, the wine perfection as was the bruschetta, the only problem was being alone. I love Max but there are times I would like to have a two sided conversation instead of talking with my dog. I am sure there are times when Max wants to spend time with other dogs instead of just me.
I filled two pages of this journal with random thoughts. I know I do this when the loneliness hits. The words do nothing but emphasize the fact I don’t have anyone to talk to. I need to get out more. Max and I are going to take a walk and then go to bed.
AAK
April 13
I was wrong. I did hear from Seth’s partner again. When I arrived at the studio today there was a box at the building manager’s office. I took it upstairs with a wide grin. I could tell immediately what was in the box. I could smell the cinnamon, the chocolate , and the lemon from the pastries inside it. It was one of the best ways to start the day. All I needed was a hot cup of coffee and I would be a very happy man.
I did share a few of the pastries with my first client. She seemed to take my generosity for flirtation and I made sure to keep the rest of the pastries for myself. No reason I should have to put up with flirtation from another client. The rest of the day passed quickly. It was one of the those days when I had back to back clients and not a few moment to myself until after five. By then I was starving and extremely grateful for the pastries. I left the box at the studio to keep myself from eating all of them in one day and headed home to Max. I felt less lonely today after the kindness of the bakery owner. Strange how even the smallest things can help a person’s mood.
I will try to remember it.
Max and I sat on the sofa together and he rested his head on my lap as I ate warmed up soup and watched an episode of Star Trek. Simple life but tonight I was happy with it.
AAK
May 7
Max ate one of Theo’s shoes last night. A cheap pair of sneakers, thankfully. I will have to replace them and I am going to take it out of Max’s treat budget.
I think it’s his revenge for being thrown out of bed and being forced to sleep on the sofa. He still has not warmed up to Theo and my friend does nothing to help the situation. He treats Max as a dog while I treat him like a person. Maybe that’s the problem? Part of me still thinks it’s the ridiculous man bun that Theo wears. I have been tempted to cut it off myself.
Max does not dislike him but he does not treat Theo with the same affection that he shows to Adriana or even Caleb. There is just the sniff then the slightest waggle of his tail before he Max jumps on the sofa and ignores both of us.
It is not jealousy. It can not be jealousy. Theo is a temporary distraction. A friend who spends the night when he is in town. Alright, it might be more than one night. Five maximum. A few drinks, dinner, and bed. When he leaves the flat my life goes back to normal. With Max.
Would he react the same way if another man spent the night?
Mr M was leaving his flat when Theo left mine. Did he notice? I really need to talk to him.
AAK
May 8
Theo doesn’t mind my obsession with blood. We both know there is an element of danger to it. The risk of infections from the cuts are minimal since I keep the knives clean and disinfect them after every use. Disease would be the real risk but both of us are careful with our sexual partners. Condoms every damn time, without question. Gloves too.
The simple truth is that I like to see the blood on my partner’s chest. I enjoy running my fingers through it and tracing patterns with it on their bodies. The warmth of it on my hands, even the smell adds to the act of sex for me. Theo knows I record our sessions together, at least the ones involving a knife. He is vain enough to be flattered by the idea. And I am arrogant enough not to mind it.
I do not know what it says about me that I love knife play. Especially after what happened with Gideon. He left scars all over me and now I revel in leaving scars on my partner’s. Royale might be able to answer the question but there are things I can not discuss with her. Even if she is my shrink.
The scar I left on Theo’s back is an anti-possession tattoo. He knows what it means and seemed intrigued by it. Theo is curious about what I do but never pushes the subject past my comfort zone.
AAK
May 12
I miss the stars. Don’t get me wrong I love London with all its excitement and history. But the lights are too bright tonight. The signs, the buildings, all of it is distracting from the starlight. I need the stillness and silence of the New Mexico mountains. The skies are brighter there than anywhere else. I have visited more than half the states in the continental US and none of them can compare with the mountains around Santa Fe.
I sound like a damn travel brochure tonight. I know it happens at times. My ties to the states will always be part of me. I love my country as much as I hate what is happening to it right now.
Sara would say I have a connection with the stars or something like that. I do not understand all of her beliefs but if she says it I believe it.
Maybe a trip back to the States would be good for me. Not to the City. But to the country. But how can I explain a trip to the States without stopping to see Sara and Jax? Short answer is that I can’t. I will have to make a stop in New York City to see them even if it is only for one night.
Max would have to stay with Caleb and his girls would love to take care of him. Again.
AAK
May 13
Sara and I skyped earlier and we talked about a visit to the States. The idea of me coming to visit thrilled her and I could hear Aiden in the background yelling about Uncle Kincaid coming to visit him. He said I could have the top bunk. A generous offer but one I wanted to decline. Sleeping on one of the twin beds wasn’t my idea of a good time. My legs are too damn long for such a short bed. And Aiden talked in his sleep. Loudly.
I told her I would check my schedule and then we could talk again. She held up Riley so I could see how much the little girl had grown since the last time we talked. I said hello and Riley waved back. She doesn’t talk much. Or at all, really.
Mr M was at the grocery store. He was in line behind me and rather obviously checked me out. Progress is being made.
AAk
May 17
Max does not, in fact, react the same way to another man spending the night. Caine was in town last night. He said it was for business and I did not ask too many questions about it. Boundaries have to be respected. After we spent a day playing tourist he came back to the flat. Max greeted him with interest, sniffing him for several minutes before licking his hand. When we settled on the sofa with our beers in hand Max rested his head on Caine’s leg and looked up to him, waiting for the petting he deserves. I couldn’t help laughing at how surprised Caine was since I had warned him that Max might be standoffish.
When we went to bed Max did not seem to mind being left behind on the sofa with one of my old shirts. Caine’s shoes survived the night and so did his duffel bag. He is going to stay for three days. We will see what happens.
So why doesn't Max like Theo? It has to be the man bun.
AAK
May 22
There is not a Missed Connections for hunters. Like the one on Craig’s List?(Except without all the dick pics.) There should be. I would write a post about the man I briefly talked to yesterday. It wasn’t love at first sight but it was something. Lust? Maybe. Admiration, absolutely. I had been hunting a rogue shifter for two days when I stumbled across the other hunter. Every move he made was efficient, purposeful. He killed with a graceful elegance that left me speechless. We worked together to destroy the evidence of his actions then parted ways with a brief handshake and an exchange of names.
Leahy.
Six foot two, green eyes, blonde hair. Built like a runner. Scar over his left eye. Wearing blue jeans and black leather jacket over a red shirt.
He made an impression on me alright. Enough about him. I need to get up and stretch my legs. Max agrees. It is time for a walk.
AAK
May 23
I could tell by the way the kid was standing he had something to hide. The tight-lipped smile, hands in the pockets of his torn blue jeans, and the way he would look down and then away. I don’t know why he approached me outside of the studio. Was it for a job? An offer for a quickie in exchange for cash? If so why would he look so secretive. I wanted to see if he was one of the supernatural but he would move away every time I moved closer to him. That would rule out the offer for sex or drugs, wouldn’t it?
I would be able to recognize him again if he approaches me again. If couldn’t I would be a failure as both a hunter and as a photographer. Besides, there was something about him that made him memorable. It was not his looks. He was average in height and on the skinny side with shaggy dark hair. Blue eyes behind a pair of hipster glasses. A t shirt but no jacket, a hat but no socks. The quality of his clothes showed that money had not been a problem at one point in his life.
He never said a word to me but we stood staring at each other for several minutes before he walked away. No, not walked, bounded. It struck me then that I wish Max had been with me. I trust his instincts and something was telling me this kid was not what he appeared to be.
The smell is the other thing I remember about him. It was a mix of freshly ground peppercorns, fennel, and oddly enough honey. With the faintest scent of cigar smoke. I don’t think the smoke was part of his natural scent. Do not ask me why because it is nothing more than a gut feeling. But I have learned to listen to my feelings. And in this case, my nose. It told me there was something unusual about him. Was he even human?
It might be time to dig out Mike’s journals. See if there is any mention of creatures who ensnare their victims by using pheromones.
10.27
Reading Mike’s old journals really took me back. I think that is how the saying goes anyway. It brought back so many memories of Mike and all the training he put me through all those years ago. He was a hard ass with training but a soft touch when it came to other things. There was not a homeless person he could pass without handing him or her a handful of cash, a stray cat he would not feed, or lost teenage boy he would not save from a vampire attack. That is how he found me. I owe it to others now to save who I can, when I can. But the kid I mentioned earlier? I am not sure he wanted or needed to be saved. Maybe I will need saving from him?
I did not find any information that helped. It might be time to talk to Abraham. He is older than the dinosaurs and knew more about monsters than anyone else I know. I will have to bite the bullet tomorrow and give the cranky bastard a call.
AAK
May 24
Mrs Rhee told me she had seen a stranger outside my door. He did not leave a package or a note. My security system did not show andy signs of tampering. If he was supernatural the sigils around the door would be triggered and man (?) would not be allowed entry into the flat. The magic would have stopped him cold.
Still, I will have Sully update my security system. Then I will add a few extra sigils to the doorway of the building.
Mrs Rhee also told me her grandson would be visiting tomorrow night. She says he is very attractive and has a good job. This is, I think, the fifth time she has tried to fix me up with him. At least she is open minded about it. Someday I might take her up on it. But not tomorrow night.
8.14
I talked to Abraham. Well, he hung up on me once then I kept calling until he picked up the phone again. He really dislikes me for being an American. I told him it was an accident of birth but he did not buy it. Somehow it was my fault. But I eventually got him to agree to help me. How? I appealed to his vanity. I told him he was my first choice because I knew he was the most informed of all the hunters. If anyone could solve the puzzle of my mysterious visitor it would be him. I could hear the smugness in his voice as he agreed with me. He walked right into the trap and I felt a surge of pride in my ability to manipulate the old bastard. Mike would be proud.
Abraham said he would get back to me by the end of the week and hung up without another word.
AAK
May 25
This is the kind of job I hate. The boring corporate photo with all the managers smiling stiffly at the camera. None of the dared to show an ounce of emotion in their expressions. Each of their suits a cookie cutter copy of the next. Even the woman were dressed in crisp blue suits. The only difference was the height of their heels. Was this how they dressed and acted at home? I hoped not.
The only upside of the job was the paycheck. I needed the infusion of cash to cover the expense of repainting the studio and expanding my dark room.. I could take money out of my trust fund, yes. But it felt wrong. The studio was my baby, my business and I wanted the money for the renovation to come from me. Kincaid, you are an idiot. It is a matter of pride for me. Pride might be my downfall some day but it would not be today.
I also need to hire someone to answer the phones on the days I am not at the studio. Maybe an answering service would work but it lacks the personal touch I want the business to portray. Seems weird to be talking about all of this. I forget sometimes that I am actually a business owner.
AAK
May 27
Adriana came over for dinner tonight. We had homemade pizza topped with fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil. We shared a bottle of red wine while she told me about a case she was working on. Just general details since it involved some rather well known people in the city. But it was enough to peak my interest in the case. I asked if I would read about it in the papers some day and she shook her head. It would be covered up. Damn, I hate unanswered questions. Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back.
I remember Mr Carr would say that all the time during science class. I could ask her for the details but i do not want to get her in trouble or for her to risk her job. Not for me.
Max showed off his newest trick of playing dead. Adriana would randomly shoot him and he would fall over dramatically, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. I won’t tell her how long it took me to teach him the trick or how many treats I had to give him. Even I think I went overboard with the costs. But Max is worth every penny spent.
We put on a movie (something with a superhero) but neither one of us paid much attention to it. The easy conversation and laughter was what we were really interested in. I showed her the new prints I brought home from the studio. There was one print that appealed to her and I offered it to her but she would only take it if she paid for it. I said she could watch Max the next time I go out of town and we would be even. We shook hands and the deal was made.
Adriana received a phone call halfway through the movie and quickly grabbed her coat and gave Max a absent-minded pet goodbye. An emergency at work was her explanation and she rushed out the door.
We finished the movie without her and then I went to bed.
AAK
May 28 7.21 am
I am not getting sick. I keep telling myself that as I sneeze and cough hard enough to bruise my ribs. It is the wrong season to get a damn cold anyway. Isn’t it? I feel like shit. But going to a doctor is out of the question so I call Sara. She told me the what herbs I needed and how to blend them into a tea. I knew I had two of the ingredients on hand but would need to go shopping for the others. I decided to leave Max at home while I did the shopping.
11.37 am
The tea is steeping in the kitchen. I decided to get a little bit of work done while I wait but I can not focus on anything. So picked up my pen again. Writing the journal is becoming a habit I can see why Royale recommend it to me. Most of the time it does help me focus on the events of the day. Other times, like today, I use it to ramble on about nothing in particular. It might be the fever talking but my handwriting looks worse than usual. Almost blurry.
8.49
I slept for hours. Would have slept through the night but Max woke me up. The paw on my chest told me he needed to go outside. It took every bit of energy I had to get up and take him outside. On the way back we ran into Mr M. Of course it happened today. I looked and felt like shit so that is when he looks at me. Fuck my life.
AAK
May 29 10.38
Max woke me up again this morning needing to go outside. He wanted to eat too but going outside was his priority. I did not had the have the energy to take him to the park so I left him in his garden while I mixed his food and gave him fresh water. A scratching on a door woke me up again and I realized that I had fallen asleep at the kitchen table. I let Max in and went straight back to bed. He could find me when he was done. Poor guy. I should call Caleb and ask him to take Max until I get better.
3.17 I made another cup of tea, took Max out to his garden, and had a bowl of soup. It almost killed me.
4.15 Someone knocked on the door but I did not make it to the door in time. By the door there was a container of chicken soup and note from Mrs Rhee. How the hell did she know I was sick? Should I have Sully go over the flat and check for bugs again? I put the soup in the fridge and went back to bed.
9.47 Why am I writing this shit down? It is boring even to me. But I have to do something to help keep my mind working. Or it will end up a puddle of mush. Hell, it might be mulch mush already and I don’t know it.
AAK
May 30
I am finally feeling human again. Max is happy about it, I can tell. He had been worried about me the last few days. I can vaguely remember hearing him whining in my ear last night. I must have taken him out again last night because I woke up this morning with my shoes on and I was sleeping on my sofa instead of my bed. I hope nothing else happened. A run in with Mr M would have been embarrassing.
Max did not chew up my shoes or have an accident so I will consider the last few days a success. I know there is a better word to use but my mind can not come up with it right now.
I am going back to bed.
AAK
June 2
Royale called me today. The last time we talked it was on the anniversary of my release from the hospital. That was two years ago. I am not sure how she found my new number. Maybe she called Sara?I was there under my own name and I did have her listed as my next of kin. In the end it doesn't really matter, does it? I recognized my psychiatrist's voice instantly. She was with me during the first six weeks of hell. Not the literal hell, of course. I haven’t been there yet. No, I mean the time spent recovering from the torture Gideon and his “friends” inflicted on me. The mental and physical scars he left behind. Losing a kidney turned out to be the easiest thing to recover from. I still have the scar but rarely let it concern me. The scars on my back are a different story. I am keenly aware of them every time I take off my shirt to exercise or take a new lover.
I am getting off track again.
Royale called me today to tell me the warehouse had burned down. The place of my nightmares was taken down by something as simple and random as a lightening strike. No one was injured. The city had condemned the site after my “accident”. The police never closed the case and the ambulance driver still questions my survival, Royale says. I should have died before they even arrived on site. Hell, I did die on the operating table. Dead for four minutes thirty-nine seconds. Not that I was counting but someone did. Part of their job, I assume. Accurate records to avoid being sued by the grieving family? Perhaps I am being too cynical.
It does not matter now. I survived. With Royale’s help. I owe her.
I evaded her questions about nightmares and thanked her for the call. Offered my help if she ever needed it then cut the call short. A voice from the past is not what I needed tonight. A warm body and bottle of whiskey should be enough to get through it.
AAK
June 4
Tessa went into labor at the diner. Three weeks early. She handled it well but her husband had a panic attack in the kitchen. Tessa said she wished she had caught it on tape. She would use it against him for years if she had a chance. I believe her. She is one of the strongest women I know. She insisted on finishing lunch service. Will called me to help with dinner service. Just the basics would be served. It has been years since I worked in a professional kitchen but I went anyway. Tessa has given me enough free meals to feed an army over the years. I owe her.
So I left Max at home and headed out the the diner. A quick tour of the kitchen then of the pantry happened before I sat down with the waiters and went over the menu. My way of running a kitchen is different than Tessa’s and I wanted them to understand the proper procedures. Proper for me anyway.
Will was right about the menu. It was not anything I could not handle. The desserts were the problem. Tessa usually baked all the pastries and she was in the hospital. I decided early on to send James to the local bakery and pick up whatever they had left. The dinner service went off without any major problems. By the time we closed up and cleaned the kitchen Tessa had given birth to a fat baby boy. They had not picked out a name yet. I told her Adam was out of the question and she laughed at the idea. I bet they will go with Will’s choice. NIcholas.
I have to be back at five to open the diner so it is an early night for me. And Max.
AAK
June 5
They picked Cameron Nicholas for their son. It is a name that brings back memories for me but mentioning it to them seemed to be a bad idea. Rude even. Will showed me a picture of him and he looks like Tessa except for having Will’s nose. Tessa wanted to come back to work and only Will’s insistence stopped her. She takes her work seriously. I understand her dedication since I am the same way about my job. All of them. But going back to work the day after giving birth is pushing it. Especially if there is someone who can handle the job for her. Not to brag but I am a damn good cook and her diner was in good hands. We made the same deal with the bakery and I set the menu.
There was only one issue but the waiter, James, explained the gentleman in question pulls the same stunt at least once a week. He says Tessa comps his meal every time he does it and it has become a running joke with the employees.
I can not run the dinner tomorrow so Tessa’s cousin will be stepping in tomorrow. I think her name is Lorena? I will be able to take over again the next day. I can not neglect my studio or my client tomorrow and Tessa understands this. I have bills to pay too.
AAK
June 10
Adriana came over for dinner again tonight. I told her it was Max’s idea but we both know it was mine. She reminds me of Sara. Curious, funny, sharp. I made a total fool of myself at yesterday’s baking class and Adriana just laughed off my mistakes. It’s good to have a friend like her.
Max and Adriana were playing with an old shoe when it happened. Max was excited and knocked over one of my bowls of crystals. The stones scattered all over the floor while Adriana looked on. That look she gets when she is flustered took about thirty seconds to appear then disappear again as she picked up the rocks. Jet Stone, Jasper, Fluorite, Tourmalinated Quartz, Fire Agate, Black Tourmaline, Black Obsidian, Amethyst, and Smokey Quartz were carefully placed on the table. I explained the purpose of each one and their combined effect on the home. The crystals protect you from psychic attacks and negative energy according to Sara. This aroused her curiosity and she spent forty five minutes exploring the other combinations of stones I keep around the house. Some are carefully placed in the four corners of the flat while others placed in pots of herbs I keep by the windows. The herbs have their own purpose too. Some add flavor to food or fragrance to the place while others are used for protection. Holly (protection for the home) and Ivy (protection against negative energy and deters unwanted visitors) have been hung above the windows.
Black onyx (protection against dark magic) and quartz crystals (protection against curses) are placed strategically throughout the flat as well.. Adriana accepted all of the information and asked over a dozen questions. Some I could answer and others I had to plead ignorance. Or tell her they were for decorations. She accepted this with only a slight narrowing of her eyes before changing the subject.
I know she had questions. She knew I had answers that I was not giving her. But she accepted the limits. I also know she was keeping a list of questions and patiently waiting for the right time to ask them.
She’s a good friend. We’re lucky to have her.
Next week we are trying to make a cake. I hope the flat survives.
AAK
June 12
The kid appeared outside my studio again today. I have not been able to determine what he is and even Abraham drew a blank with his research. I do not sense danger from him or think he is a threat to me or to my Max. He was wearing the same set of clothes as the last time he was here but the glasses were different. This time they were a set of aviator glasses. Like the one Tom Cruise wore in Top Gun. I did not get close enough to smell him this time. I wish I had. I wanted to know if I had imagined the scent last time he was here. It is odd how vividly I remember it. He stood and watched me for about five minutes before disappearing. One minute he was there, I blinked and he was gone. It was that fast.
If I had not been expecting a client I would have gone after him. But I need the money right now more than I need to solve the puzzle of my mysterious visitor. At least that is what I told myself as I went upstairs to my studio.
It occurred to me later. Why did he only appear on days when Max was not with me? Was he afraid of my dog? Or afraid Max would be able to sense what he really is?
I ran into Mr M on my way home. This time he smiled at me and I grinned back. Progress is being made on Operation:: Seduce the Neighbor.
Slowly being made. Slower than molasses in January slow.
AAK
June 13
Mr M said hello as he passed me in the park. It was a good way to start the day. Max seems interested in him too.
Jules and I are having dinner again tonight. This time we are leaving the dogs at my flat and going out in public. It isn’t a date really. He has seemed sad lately. It has to do with a man in his past, he did tell me that much the last time we talked. I am not sure if going out will help or just remind him of what he lost but at least he isn’t at home moping around drinking wine by himself. Flossy can only offer a certain amount of comfort to him.
And it give me an excuse to do something different. To wear my new suit and spend time with people who aren’t looking to hire me. Christ, that makes me sound like I am for sale. I meant professionally. As a photographer. Tonight I am going out to have fun, to hopefully talk Jules into going dancing with me. I will make it clear I don’t consider it a date. That may ease his mind a bit.
My blue suit is pressed, shoes shined, and the flat is clean. Max has been feed and walked and he is eagerly waiting for his girlfriend to arrive. He has been sitting by the front door for twenty minutes already. Poor dog, he has it bad for Flossy. I hope she doesn’t break his heart.
I need to shower and shave so I am signing off now. I will update you later tonight or if the night goes well I will do it tomorrow morning.
AAk
June 17
The flat survived our attempt at making a lemon cake. However, it’s a mess. There is flour everywhere and at least two eggs on the flour. I blame Adriana for the flour explosion. I dropped the eggs, I admit. Max was banned from the kitchen after the first one broke and he attempted to clean the floor for me. It’s a chore he eagerly performed before and he is not happy that I stopped him this time. . I can see him giving Adriana the same broken hearted look he gives me when I catch him chewing on one of my shoes. I warn her not to fall for it but she is soft hearted when it comes to my dog.
After the mess was cleaned up we finally got around to finishing the cake. The best thing I can say is that we did not die of food poisoning. It was lopsided and the drizzle tasted more like household cleaner than lemon. Even Max turned up his nose at it. I should have taken a picture of it.
I should face reality. (I can’t help laughing at that comment.) I am a damn good cook but will never be a baker. Next on our to do list is brownies. I suggested buying a box mix and Adriana awarded me with THE look. She has an amazing selection of looks. Each one of them is capable of telling a story, I think. She should be an actress. She could easily win an Oscar or two.
Or maybe a con artist? She is one already, is not she? Cops con people all the time. For a good reason, of course. My point is that Adriana is very expressive. We have been friends long enough for her to be comfortable expressing her opinion without hesitation.
AAK
June 18
A simple salt and burn almost lead to a disaster tonight. It wasn’t my hunt but I managed to stumble onto the site while working another case. Why the fuck the other hunter did not check the area before starting to burn the bones is, well, the blunt truth is that it was simple arrogance. He was a young man, early twenties, and clearly thought he knew everything there is to know about hunting. No one does. The moment you think you know it all is the moment you sign your own death sentence. It is stupidity, plain and simple.
When you start a job get all the details. Acting impulsively will come back to bite you in the ass.
Mr M waved and I was too distracted to wave back. Operation: Seduce the Neighbor suffered a defeat today. A slight one. Next time I see him I will apologize.
AAK
June 19
Mr M was around today. With a strikingly beautiful blonde woman. They were clearly very comfortable with each other. It made me hesitate before waving but only for a moment. He gave me a nod before entering his flat.
Work went by fast today. I did not have any time to think about the neighbor and his friend. Hell, I barely had time to have lunch. Tessa sent James over with a couple of sandwiches and a cold pasta salad for me. She did that for me once in a while since I am one of her favorite people. And I tip well. I ended up giving Max of the sandwiches to hold him over until we could get home.
11.57
I did not think today would ever end. Too many projects due on the same day and the phone would not stop ringing. Not all of the calls were for business but I did not have time to deal with them. I really need to hire someone to answer the damn phone. I have said it before, I know. I even interviewed someone last week but they only stayed for one day. My fault. I snapped at her when she bumped into the table and almost knocked over my camera. Then she ignored Max. Bad move on her part. If you can not be nice to my dog then there is no reason for you to stay. She left right after lunch.
Now I am rambling again. I know it is a bad habit. I do not even remember why I started this entry. But right now I do not care at all. I am too damn tired to deal with anything or anyone’s bullshit.
AAK
June 20
I slept late today. So did Max so I did not have to feel guilty about it. I had a cup of coffee while Max visited his garden. Our run would have to wait until tonight. Max did not seem to mind. In fact, he jumped on the sofa and was snoring when I left the flat for work.
The day was spent getting caught up on various projects and setting up meetings with clients. Max and I were going on vacation in a couple of days I need everything to be in order before I leave. Coming back to an unorganized mess would ruin my mood in seconds flat. Clutter bothers me. Even as a child I kept all of my toys organized by type and purpose. My coloring books were arranged neatly on the bookshelf by topic. No broken colors or peeled labels in my coloring box. Daniel would tease me about it then the next day ask me help him organize his room. Even as a child I was neater than my brother. Daniel was my hero but he was also a slob.
Harper Grace took after Daniel., unfortunately. Chaos was the best description of her pink and white bedroom. I don’t know how such a tiny little girl could make such a mess. Darcy Jane, unfortunately, was like me. Or unfortunately I was like her? Except for our hazel eyes the only thing we had in common was or obsession with organization. It is something we both got from our father. Donovan Kincaid made my obsession with neatness look like child’s play. Even his food had to be beaten into submission. Nothing could touch. Mashed potatoes had to be separated from the carrots, meat could not touch the peas. That was on days Izzy didn’t cook. I think she secretly took delight in mixing the food together to annoy my father him. It is hard to take apart lasagna after all. Or minestrone soup. I can imagine him picking out all the parts and lining them up on the table.
I don’t know why I am talking about all of this shit. But my mind seems to be wandering all over the place tonight. The main point of all of this is that everything has to be ready for our camping trip. Max is going with me this time. No staying behind with Caleb and his kids. Four days without work, a phone, or any other contact sounds like heaven to me.
June 22
Max and I went camping for four days. I borrowed Nia’s car and packed up everything we needed to survive for five days. Packing for an extra day is something Daniel taught me long ago when we went for day trips to the lake. Always be prepared, take plenty of water, tell someone where you are going, and more. Being a boy scout wasn’t for me but Daniel loved it. And it paid off for me more than once.
The one thing I left behind is my phone. We needed time to -He sits back and looks at the messy writing while he tries to find the right word. In the end he settles for the easiest.- de-stress. To get away from the crowd of London and spend time alone. Writer’s block had me on edge for weeks and a vacation might give me a new perspective. At least that was my hope. We left early in the morning after our run. I spotted the neighbor returning home looking worn out. According to the gossip he claims to be a teacher but I suspect he is more than that.
We passed the time in the car singing. I sang. Max howled along. He’s a good friend. No judgement about my off key singing. East Sussex campgrounds was our destinations. The Beech Estate specifically. I booked one of the faraway tents to give us privacy. We had our own campfire and was as close as I could get to true off the grid camping. We did have to walk into the main camping area for a shower. Since it was only Max and I I could skip the shower for a few days and avoid people.
They had flush toilets for people who are offended by the smell of an outhouse. Imagine going camping and insisting on a flush toilet. People are crazy. And spoiled by modern technology. Would you consider a toilet technology? I’ll research it later.
The trails were beautiful and the silence was just what we needed. We walked every morning instead of running. Max was in heaven with all the new smells and the occasional rabbit to chase. My boy has a strange obsession with the fluffy creatures. He does not want to hurt them just chase them. At night we made a campfire and I introduced Max to the s’more. Without the chocolate. I was generous enough to eat that part for him.
It was almost like old times with my camera. I took pictures of things that caught my interest instead of things I’m paid to. Never realized how much I missed that sort of freedom. Now I have pictures of Max rolling in leaves, sniffing at trees with his tail wagging in excitement. Pictures of odd shadows, old rotting trees, and new growth are part of the collection too. I might show one or two of the photos to Adriana but the rest will remain a secret. An unseen postcard of our trip.
On the last day I rented a dirt bike. Max ran alongside of it as we explored the trails. Neither of us wanted to leave but work was waiting for me in London. Packing up took longer than unpacking and the drive home seemed to take twice the time.
But it was one of the best times we’ve spent together in a long time. Just the two of us.
AAK
June 25
Sara asked me to fly in for Jax’s birthday party. It is supposed to be a surprise so Jax would not be handling the flights, Sara would. She knows how I feel about flying so I know she will handle everything right. There isn’t time to buy a gift and have it shipped so I will need to buy something when I get to New York. Sara has a few ideas for me and we spent half an hour going over them.
It took me two hours to reschedule all of my appointments at the studio. I had to offer Mrs Morgan a discount in exchange for moving her appointment back a day. But it will be worth it. Caleb will be taking Max again. I am lucky to have someone Max trusts and who I trust in return.
The flight leaves on June thirtieth and I plan on taking a car to their country home after I pick up a gift for him. Everyone else will be arriving the next morning. I think she said thirty people will be attending the party for Jax. Sara has someone catering the event but I will make something for the breakfast buffet. Sara has a chef’s kitchen and she can not expect me to be in the house and not use it. It is impossible, at least for me. I would give my big toe or someone else’s entire foot to have a kitchen like that one. I could fit half my flat into it and still have room left. I might be exaggerating but not by much. This kitchen would make any chef drool.
AAK
June 26
Today I did something I rarely do. I turned down a contract with a potential client. It was for an ad agency. I still don’t know how they got my number or why they picked my studio to do the photography work. At first I was excited about the potential income but then I listened to the sales pitch and noticed an odd trend in the selection of models. The two. They did not add up. Young boys did not belong in this ad, in my opinion. It seemed to me they were trying to sexualize the kids to sell a product. Since it is my business and I get the final decision I turned down the job. You might see the advert eventually but it won’t include any of my photographs. I doubt I will regret my choice.
Max was waiting for me by the door when I finally made it home. My hands were full of groceries and he followed me to the kitchen, sniffing my jeans as I went. I wonder what he smelled? Tobacco smoke, I know, but what else? I had been around strangers all day so it must feel like a feast of scents for him. Feast is not the right word but I can not think of another right now. I have not had caffeine in hours and my mind is slowing down without it. Even making dinner seems to be too much work tonight. Max suggested catching a rabbit but I decided it was too much work. Calling for Chinese food was easier and less expensive. To catch a rabbit we would have to rent a car, pay for gas, drive to the country, and I need to shut up and go to bed. My rambling starting to go off the damn rails. Say goodnight, Kincaid.
AAK
JUne 28 7.41 am
Sara is going to kill me. I can hear her already. Asking how I managed to get a black eye right before the party. Not to mention five stitches on my right bicep. But that I can keep hidden. No one will see it under my suit.
I would like to say it was a heroic deed that caused the injury. But it was nothing more than stopping a garden variety mugging. I worked late and decided to go to the pub after finishing up a particularly difficult project. Not to the Blue Post but to a different pub, one I had not visited before. A bad decision on my part but lucky for the person I helped later. The food at the pub was not as good as Marco’s cooking and I was regretting my choice when I left the pub. I heard a scuffle and decided to investigate because once again my curiosity was trying to get me killed.
I turned the corner and felt a fist hit my face before I even realized someone was that close. I cursed and grabbed the man’s hand as he went to hit me again. We fought briefly and my arm was cut after being pushed against a piece of broken glass. The sting of pain was enough to make me grunt but not enough for me to release my grip on the man. The victim at this point finally decided to make his presence known and ask me to let the man go. He had reasons for avoiding the police and only wanted his wallet back. I nodded and took the wallet back then let the man go. I had my own reasons for avoiding the police too, after all. I did not want Adriana to find out about the incident either.
I had a few drinks after getting home and cleaning up the wound. I knew it would need stitches and wanted to numb the pain before I sewed up the cut. It would not be the first nor the last time I sewed up a cut. No reason to go to the doctor who would only ask questions I did not want to answer.
Max and I spent the rest of the night listening to music before we decided it was time to go to bed. I think he knew I was in pain and he stayed close to me, protecting me.
And comforting me.
AAK
June 29
Sara knows how to throw a party. The country house was decorated to the nines and it was something out of movie set. I took dozens of pictures for her and plan on putting together a digital album for Jax as soon as I can. All the food had been catered by Jax’s favorite restaurant and waiters dressed in white jackets passed around the appetizers while two bartenders served drinks. There had to be at least fifty people there and Sara managed to talk to everyone and made everyone feel welcome. It’s a skill. One I don’t have but she has in spades.
The decorations were all black, gold, and white. It should have seemed cliche but Sara somehow made it work. She was stunning in a simple gold dress with her hair curling down her back. She would never be called beautiful but she was the most striking woman in the room. Jax was dressed in a fitted black tuxedo, of course, and was still the best looking man I have ever seen in my life. At six foot four he towered over most of the men in the room and he used it to his advantage. He knows how to work a room. I give him credit for it. It is a skill I never had or even try to cultivate. I can be friendly and polite but I would never be a diplomat like Jax. The kids were upstairs with a nanny and I considered sneaking upstairs but Sara somehow sensed my intent and cornered me before I could get up the stairs. She wanted to introduce me to one of Jax’s friends and I relented and allowed her to. James seemed, I can think of no other word to use, was nice. Good looking in a wholesome American way. Blue eyes, blonde hair, and a crisp blue suit. He was taking cooking classes as a way to deal with stress and we chatted for half an hour before dinner was called. He asked for my number and I gave it to him. But I had no intention of going on a date with him. There was no spark and I knew it. I could have arranged for a casual hook up but my heart was not interested in it. Neither was my cock.
Dinner was perfectly prepared and drinks flowed. People seemed to be having fun and yet I was counting the minutes until I could escape. Sara gave Jax a toast and was followed by three of his co workers. I was lucky enough to escape this task and I silently thanked Sara for it. No gifts were opened during the party. That would happen the next day, it seemed. Tomorrow would be the day to spend with just family and I was looking forward to it. I would rather get stitches without drugs than go to another formal dinner.
I was finally allowed to escape around midnight and went upstairs to kiss my godson and his sister before going to the guest room. I love Sara and Jax. That is the only reason I attended instead of just sending a gift.
AAK
July 1
Sara lied to me. She fucking lied to me. She is the one person I trusted to always tell me the truth. We were family, not by blood of course, but because we loved and counted on each other. We knew each other’s flaws and weaknesses and loved each other anyway. I am the godfather to her children, I dated her brother Ethan Moore for two years. I held her hand as we burned his body. Yet she lied. Worse, she messed with my fucking mind.
I only found out by accident. It was the day after Jax’s birthday party. This year the celebration was held at their home in upstate New York. I was cleaning the living room when The Lord of The Rings came on one of the old movie channels. I moved to quickly turn off the television and Sara burst into laughter. The movie never failed to put me to sleep. In fact, I would be asleep within fifteen minutes of hearing the music for it. Even if I am in the middle of cleaning the kitchen or on a date. I was damn awkward. It could be dangerous too if anyone who wanted to hurt me found out about the odd weakness.
“It still works?” I wasn’t sure what she was talking about and admitted my confusion. Sara seemed surprised. “Royale and I hypnotized you after...Gideon. You couldn’t sleep even with all the pain medication, remember? We thought it would help.” Sara went on to explain she believed the suggestion would wear off in time. I’ve never seen her so upset. Not since Ethan was killed, actually but I could see how guilty she felt but was too angry to care. Why the fuck didn’t she tell me about this sooner? It would have saved me years of frustration. I demanded to know how to remove the hypnotic suggestion and she quietly told me how. I nodded then left without another word. I had to walk into town to get to the train station, leaving behind everything but my camera bag, wallet, and passport. The clothes would have to be replaced later. I loved the tuxedo but had no interest in going back to Sara’s at this point.
For the first time I left her home without saying goodbye to the children. Aiden would be hurt but I hoped my godson would be able to forgive me someday. I flew back to London on my own dime and picked up Max from Caleb’s in the middle of the night. I know I owe his wife an apology and I will give it to her tomorrow.
I do not know if I can forgive Sara.. If I should.
AAK
July 3
Max had a play date with Flossy today. My boy loves spending time with her in the park. They chase a ball while Jules and I would talk about the wine bar or how my day went at the studio. I brought along a few sandwiches and a salad made of tomatoes, feta, and olives along with a fresh spinach leaves. . Nothing fancy but it did taste good. We enjoy each other’s company but I do not see a relationship in the future. Too bad. I do like the man. But he made it clear there was no chemistry between us. Not with words but actions. I did try to flirt and he quickly changed the subject to gardening. Again.
It is probably for the best. When we break up Max would lose Flossy and I do not want him to suffer through that heartbreak.
AAK
July 4
The place was Monroe, Louisiana. I was twenty-five years old and had been wandering the state for a few weeks feeling out of sorts and working a few odd jobs to pay the bills. Why? It was one of the odd feelings I get at times. That something is about to happen or that I need to do something. Writing it down is even worse since I can not find the word to express the feeling. I can not explain them adequately, not even to myself.
Working in the Cracker Barrel on just off the main highway took up most of my day. I was not my dream job but it was one I was qualified for. After all, I am a highschool drop out without any type of formal training. Except hunting and I can not put that on a resume even if I wanted to. No one would believe it.
Anyway, I was sneaking a smoke (I started smoking again after a run in with a wendigo and hadn’t stopped smoking yet. But I will.) by the trash cans when I hear a woman’s low voice speaking in Latin. I was not fluent in the language by any means but I do know enough to recognize she was performing magic. A healing spell? At least that was my first impression. I carefully made my way past the trash cans and into the wooded area behind them. Kneeling by a short haired dog was a blonde woman with blood on her hands. I knew it wasn’t hers. I could see the injury on the dog. Had it been hit by a car? The woman was average looking, the kind you would barely notice until she smiles. Then her whole face lights up. She swayed slightly and I rushed over to help her but she told me to stop. Her voice held an edge that told me that I should not argue with her. So I remained in place and watched her. Fifteen minutes later the dog gets up, shaking but able to walk without assistance. I could not say the same for the woman. She collapsed and this time I did run to her. She was heavier than she looked and I grunted when I picked her up and carried her back to my car. I left her there while I went inside to explain I wasn’t feeling well and needed to go home for the day.
The dump I was staying at was three miles away and we made it there before she woke up. I carried her inside without waking her and placed her on the bed. She looked out of place in the dump. Faded green and yellow bedspread, curtains that had once been white, and shag carpet straight out of the seventies. At least it smelled clean even if it didn’t look it. I pulled up a chair and waited for her to come to. I remember thinking I hope she doesn’t put a hex on me.
I didn’t need to worry. When she did wake up she was admittedly confused but not angry. She explained her name was Sara Mason and her family lived in the area. If I could give her a ride back to her car she would give me enough cash to cover my lost wages for the day. I felt insulted and told her so before leaving the room to get her a cold 7 UP from the vending machine in the lobby. While I was gone my new “friend” look through my duffel bag and found Mike’s journal. When I returned she was sitting cross legged on the bed, deep in thought. I cleared my throat and she asked me how long I had been a hunter.
And that is how we met. Next time I will tell you more but for now I am tired and need food. I always think better when I have a full stomach.
AAK
July 5
Within six months Sara and I had worked on three cases together and were thick as thieves as the saying goes. An actual thief on my part but Sara was adamant about remaining on the right side of the law when we could My idea about law breaking was more lenient than hers. I believe laws were there to help protect you but needed to be broken when the failed to do their jobs. There are other reasons laws should be broken but no reason to go into them all know. I know which ones to break and when to do it. Like speeding. It’s easy to obey the law but what fun would be had if you did? Driving fast is a thrill.
July 7
She has called everyday. There are fifteen unread emails from her and two from Jax. Over a dozen messages on my cell phone from Sara. I can not deal with it yet. She knows what Gideon did to me. The games he played with my mind, the damage he did to my soul. My mind. Yet she still manipulated me. Even if she did it believing she was helping me how can I trust her again? Why should I trust her again? I loved her. She was my sister and she lied to me. I would expect Darcy Jane betrayal but never expected Sara’s.
Royale left a message too. I ignored it. I plan on ignoring it for a very long time.
AAK
July 11
I answered the phone today when Sara called just so the phone would stop ringing. It was driving me crazy. . Before she could speak I told her to stop calling. I will call you when I am ready, I told her. I could hear her crying when I hung up the phone and the low rumble of Jax’s voice.. This hurt me as much as it hurt her but I could not forgive her yet. Or forget it. Why should I? She put me in danger with the stunt. Even with the best of intentions, it doesn’t matter. She took away my control and I can’t forgive her for that. Or her betrayal of my trust.
I considered her my sister. Now that is in the past.
1215
It just occured to me. How would Jax react to the rift between me and his wife? I expect him to side with Sara. He should since they have been married to years. Will I have to find a new editor as well as a new best friend?
AAK
July 12
Max and his damn barking woke me up this morning. At three in the fucking morning. I was not a happy person and I would bet my neighbors weren’t thrilled either. I checked the security system and it showed no sign of tampering. The cameras did not reveal any clues either. Whatever it was that set Max off wasn’t something I could see or sense. Max is too well trained to bark at nothing. He was trying to warn me about something. I checked all of the protection spells before heading back to bed. It took half an hour for the hair on Max’s back to calm down again.
8.25 am
I did find something odd when I opened the front door. A stone the size of a chicken egg. It was blue, gold, and a stray streak of black around it. It was warm, solid instead of hollow. I laughed at myself when I came up with the random idea of it being a dragon’s egg. Obviously I had been reading too much Harry Potter recently. Max smelled it and his tail went crazy, going in circles. I have never seen him act that way and it caused my interest to double. I wrapped the stone in a kitchen towel and took it with me to the studio. I did not want to leave it in the flat with Max. Not until I knew what it was. I did not have to worry about clients today so the studio was the safest choice for me.
I could research it online. I thought of sending a photo of it to Sara but stopped myself at the last minute. We still weren’t past the lying or the pain she caused me. Not yet. But she was the first person I thought of when I had a problem. That does say something, doesn’t it?
11.25 pm
I did not have any luck with the stone. It looked like Beryl but was too hard and the black streak also ruled it out. Was it a man made stone? If so, why had they left it on my doorway. I have too many questions but I can’t get the answers tonight. I need sleep. So does Max. He has refused to leave my side since I got home from the studio. He isn’t scared but he is watchful. It is strange to see him acting this way.
AAK
July 13
He needs a name. The visitor who keeps appearing outside of my studio. Something unusual but not too unusual. After all he is an ordinary looking kid. Something like a puzzle would suit him because of his strange visits. An enigma? That does sound better than a puzzle. So a name that starts with an E.
Ezekiel?
Eric?
Emmanuel?
No, I know what it is. Ezra. From the strange looking kid in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
AAK
July 18
I was in the middle of printing out an invoice for Mr Baker when I realized what today was. The anniversary of Mike’s funeral. I don’t know how I managed to forget it. That day was one of the hardest of my life up to that point. Leaving Moss Point was hard but with Grandma Izzy gone and Daniel off at college the only person holding me there was Harper Grace. I would not miss my father, mother, or Darcy Jane. I doubt any of them would even think of me again.
But Mike was different. He saw something in me worth saving. Something that was not damaged beyond repair. Mike became my mentor, my friend, and at time father confessor. He did not go easy on me because of my past, not at all. He expected me to work hard, to study. It was never a free ride with him and I respected him for it. I never wanted or sought his pity. If he had offered it I think our friendship would have been damaged. He could be gentle when the situation called for it and his heart was kind. But he knew that I did not want gentleness.
Losing my second father in such a random way was tragic. I never thought something as simple as a car accident would take out Mike Richardson. In my eyes he was the strongest man I knew and I was sure that he would go out is some type of heroic blaze of glory. A battle with a dozen of the supernatural monsters he taught me to fight. Or saving a family from some calamity or disaster. Instead it was an icy road combined with an inexperienced teenaged driver that caused his death. His daughter refused to claim the body so it fell to me to take care of it. I made sure Mike had a simple black headstone near one of the many willow trees in the cemetery. He didn’t want anything fancy and I made sure his wishes were fulfilled.
Weeks later I found out he left me money in his will along with a plot of land and the car he called Sheila. There were separate instructions about what to do if his daughter, Jasmine, ever wanted to claim the money or had a child of her own. If Mike’s daughter had a child I would be able to access another account for the grandchild. If after ten years there was no child the money would become mine. It was an odd situation and my first impulse was to give all the money to her right away. But Mike’s letter convinced me not to.
I roamed around the country for a while after Mike’s death. Looking back on it I think I was looking for the person I was meant to save like Mike saved me. I never found him or her. But I never stopped looking. Even after I moved to London. I feel I owe it to Mike to save some other lost soul, paying it forward in his honor.
After work I went to the Blue Post and had a drink with Malcolm. He is a man who understands loss. He listened to me and poured a drink for Mike, giving everyone in the pub a free round in honor of a brave man. He is a good man even if he likes cats more than dogs.
Max didn’t seem to understand my mood tonight. He lays next to me and gives me a sorrowful look. He knows something is wrong but not how to fix it. Neither do I.
How long does it take to recover from losing someone so important to you? First Grandma Izzy, then Mike, Ethan, and then Daniel. Losing the people I love seems to be my fate in life.
It is probably better for everyone that I do not fall in love again. Or get close to anyone. It is too dangerous for them. Death follows me around like a shadow. Taking everyone and leaving only heartache.
AAK
July 19
Yesterday’s entry made me think. What I came up with is that I am fucking lonely. Not all the time but often enough that I use this journal as a substitute for human interaction. I can not fall in love again. It is too dangerous for both of us. But I still crave the closeness of a partner. Caleb and Adriana are friends and I could not ask for better ones but it isn’t the same as having someone who is mine.
I can’t stand anymore of this dribble. Max and I are going to the park Afterwards we are going to pick up Chinese food and go home to watch Skyfall. Again.
Good thing I have Max.
AAK
July 24
Max and I had dinner with Jules and Flossy tonight. I cooked seafood and we shared a bottle of wine while the dogs napped in the living room. He is a smart man, attractive too but interested in someone else. Damn shame. But I can always use a new friend. We talked about his plans for the wine bar again and about my interest in going back to school and planting a cherry tree in the garden. I plan on planting herbs in Max’s garden. Ones safe for dogs, of course.
I wanted to ask Jules if he had come up with a name for his wine bar yet or have a business plan yet. But we were distracted by the talk of a garden. Next time I will ask about it.
Max seemed depressed when they left. To cheer him up I gave him one of my old shoes. It’s a cheap form of therapy for him. Shoes are cheaper to replace than sofas.
AAK
August 1
There was an photo of a haunted house in one of the magazines at the vet’s office. The story was torn out but the photo remained. It reminded me of the haunted house in Alabama. It was not really haunted but it certainly advertised itself as such., But it really was a con run by an woman and her son. They wanted money and created a clever scheme to make it off the people gullible enough to believe their tale.
The house looked haunted with its faded and cracked paint, the squeaky porch step leading up to the dark doorway. They had rigged the door to swing open when anyone stepped on the third board of the porch. A fan would blow cold air on the people who entered, causing them to shiver and adding to the spooky feel of the place. The dust covered furniture, the moldy smell of decay, and the recorded sound of a child’s crying was enough to fool most of the visitors. Only a few would dare to go past the curved stairway and into the kitchen where sounds of chopping could be heard. What was being chopped? Who wielded the clever? Was it the cook? Was she responsible for the crying child? Another cold spot was by the kitchen door and caused hesitation in every visitor. The mother and son even used a primitive type of pulley system to open the closet doors then have them slam whenever someone would walk past.
People would pay to spend the night in the house in an attempt to prove it was a fake. If they made it through the entire night, from seven to seven, then their money would be returned. If not, the owners of the house kept it.
It was a profitable business for the two of them for a couple of years. At least until one of the supernatural creatures I hunt got wind of it and decided to take advantage of the stories. All the fear was too much for it to resist and it soon became part of the show, willingly, of course. Now there was a team of three that had to be taken out. One with violence and the others with a showy reveal of their elaborate fraud. I have to admit I am still proud of how I pulled it off.
Some of my best work.
AAK
August 3
I went out to dinner with Jules again tonight. Not a date but we did get dressed up in our best suits. We both needed a break from real life. He didn’t talk about it much but I do know it had something to do with his mother and the family winery in France. He has a tell. When he thinks about his mother there is the faintest trace of a frown right between his eyebrows. The average person might not notice it but noticing details is part of my job. Jules talked about Flossy and work he is having done at his flat.
Max and I still haven’t been to it. Seems odd but maybe he doesn’t trust us enough yet.
I needed a break because of something I read in the paper. I am not ready to discuss it, not even here because it shook me to my roots. I barely remember coming home after reading it. Good thing Max was with me. I think he guided me home.
So when Jules called I said yes without hesitation then asked if I could pick the restaurant. Staying at home brooding did not sound like a good idea to me. I would start drinking again and memories would keep me awake all night. I needed to be alert for tomorrow’s meeting with one of Mr Lawrence’s co-workers.
We decided to go to I made reservation for us at Perilla. It was in the Stoke Newington area and serves Anglo-European food with top notch ingredients. It had an open airy feeling with it’s wooden furniture and exposed beams. The candles on the table might have sent the wrong message to Jules but I pointed out that every table had them. He handled it well enough but I did catch him giving me an odd look or two before the wine was served.
I had the venison and mushroom pie for the main with seaweed bread s/with brown butter. JUles had the Osso Bucco braised with wine and roasted kale. We both had the creamed white onion soup to start. We decided to skip dessert at the restaurant and pick up pastries at the little shop near my flat. The evening seemed to be going well until we arrived home. My home, not his. Max and Flossy were sound asleep on the sofa and after seeing this Jules’ expression changed. I believe it was sadness but I could be wrong. Whatever it was caused him to leave without the pastries and only a quick goodbye to Max and me. I thought about calling him but decided against it. I will let him call me when he is ready to.
Max was unhappy about the situation and sat looking at me for several minutes. I think he blamed me for the abrupt departure of his girl friend. We split one of the raspberry cream tarts then settled on the sofa to watch some mindless television until bedtime.
AAK
August 15
Flossy was at the park today with Jules but did not come over to say hello. Not sure what happened but I have to admit I am a little angry for Max’s sake. He seems heartbroken but eventually he did start playing with the English bulldog again. I know he did not enjoy it as much as he does playing with the little blonde cocker spaniel.
I decided to take Max to work with me today. Probably overthinking it but I did not want him to be alone at the flat today. I didn’t think my shoes would survive it. He seemed to enjoy the time at the studio, sleeping on the blue sofa or curling up by one of the big windows if a client was present. When it was just the two of us the music played loudly and we tossed a ball around the gallery. Professional to the core, I am.
I startled Max by laughing at my own joke. At least someone laughs.
The only other thing of note that happened today was a letter from Missouri. It took me back to my last visit there and the memory was not a happy one. The letter was from a hunter I knew from my days working with Mike. She had worked a case in Missouri and came across a mention of the warehouse and its possible ties to satan worshipping. For some odd reason she thought I would get a kick out of it. I didn’t. Until that moment I didn’t realize how well known my experience with Gideon was in the hunter community. Not all the details were known but they did know I survived. It took me a minute to figure out how she found my address before I remembered she knew Sara and probably got the address from her.
The letter put me in foul mood and I left Max at home to hit the gym. Working out would be the best and safest way to work off my anger and aggression.. I ran on the treadmill for five miles then worked with the weights until my arms screamed at me to stop. I did listen eventually and decided the best thing to do was sit in the sauna to sweat off the rest of my anger. One of the other gym members tried to chat me up but gave up when I responded with only yes or no answers. The last thing I wanted to do is to talk to anyone about anything.
It wasn’t until after I arrived home and showered that I noticed there was a message from Jules. I decided to ignore it until tomorrow. I can not deal with anything else tonight. I gave Max fresh water then poured myself a glass of wine. Writing in this journal is how I plan to end this day.
AAK
August 16
I don’t know what to make of JUles message from yesterday. He apologized for walking out on us and for ignoring us that day in the park. Apparently the scene at my flat reminded him of something from his past. It made him realize he wasn’t ready to risk his heart again and that he was still hurting from the past relationship. It makes me feel guilty because I did not realize that I had been pressuring him for more than friendship. I did flirt in the beginning but stopped when I realized he wasn’t interested. Or did I? Was I flirting with him without realizing it? I can be awkward, even I can admit it. I will call him later and apologize. But not tonight. Work was rough and I can not handle anymore complications today.
AAK
September 27
He said his name was John. I knew it was a lie by the way his eye twitched every time I called him by that name. Did I care about being lied to? At the time, no. I was bored and horny enough that I pushed aside my distaste for liars. He had blue eyes and a sarcastic wit that appealed to me.That kind of thing always does. After a few drinks we went back to his place. It was walking distance from the Blue Post so why not?
That’s when I made a mistake. Clothes landed on the floor before the lights went off. John noticed one scar then the next and the next. Some of the scars were easy to explain. Falling out of tree when I was eight left a scar on my left arm, the surgery scar from losing my right kidney. The possession tattoo and the sigil on my shoulders were explained away by saying they were tribal. It was an easy lie.
John was smart enough to recognize the knife scars and the two bullet wounds. The mood changed when his fingers touched the scars left behind by Gideon. I could see the questions in his eyes. Was I an abused child? Into BDSM? When he finally asked about the marks of torture on my back I did what came naturally to me. I lied.
Then I left. Went home to a bottle of whiskey and Max. My dog never asked questions and alcohol always had the answers.
Until the next morning. Then the alcohol felt more like a curse. Trust me on this.
AAK
November 7
Today is Daniel’s birthday.
I can not do this today.
AAK
November 8
My brother was my hero. My protector. My tormentor on a few memorable occasions. Trying to paint the roof red so Santa could find our house? I was six. A broken left arm was the result of the prank. Daniel felt guilty and gave me all of the candy from his Christmas stocking. Two years later he tried to convince me the Easter Bunny would change my candy into gold if I caught him in a trap made of twine and carrots from our neighbors garden. I did not fall for it. Why would I want gold when I could have chocolate?
Daniel taught me how to drive on the dusty back roads of Mississippi. Gave me my first beer. Held my head when I vomited after drinking three of them. I have a higher tolerance now.
He was the first person I told when I realized I was gay. No, that’s not right. He was the first person I told after realizing there was a term for what I was. Before that I thought I was a freak.
My brother was murdered because of me. I found him, made contact after years of being apart. If I had ignored the impulse to track down my brother he would still be alive. Happily married to his teacher girlfriend and father of half a dozen kids. My shrink said I shouldn’t blame myself. I told her she is a fool.
Gideon targeted him to hurt me. My hands are coated in his blood. Literally.
My plan for the rest of the evening involves a bottle of Irish Whiskey and leftover lasagna. Forget about a glass, tonight I will be drinking straight from the bottle.
AAK
October 2
Strange day. It seemed like I was out of step with the world today or that time was moving faster than I could, that I could not keep up with the movement of the earth. Whatever it was it affected every aspect of my day. Our regular run in the park ended with a sense of failure. Neither one of us could focus on what we needed to do so we went home and got ready for work while Max settled on the sofa to sleep. At work I made stupid mistakes, none that would cost me a client, but ones that put me behind schedule. I went to the store after work and realized I had left the grocery list on my desk. This was odd because I live for lists, even I can admit it. I arrived home only to realize once again I had forgotten something. At this point I had to just laugh and poured myself a drink. Max and I are going to try to go for a walk (one without issues) and if anything remarkable happens I will continue with another entry.
2.45 am
Max isn’t speaking to me right now. Apparently, I woke him up when I screamed. In my defense I was sound asleep when I started screaming. It was all part of the dream. Not my usual dreams of blood and pain, either. This one was different, more vivid. If I believed in it I would say it was a memory of a past life.
It was the day after my seventeenth birthday. August 8, 1764 when I left England to start a new life in America. I was the second son of a merchant and the life of a second son had little appeal to me. I craved adventure and the freedom of my father’s strict rules. Daniel would inherit the family fortune and business and I was considered nothing more than a backup in case something happened to Daniel. I could enter the priesthood or set out on my own. And that I why I boarded The Chance and set sail for the American colonies.
I could smell the salt in the air, the wind blowing across my face, and a vague sense of queasiness as the ship moved across the waves. I also felt the excitement of starting with only the money in my pocket and the bag on my back. There was more in the ship’s hold but that would dampen the sense of romance and adventure, wouldn’t it? I made my way to America and worked hard to start my own business. When the War for Independence started I fought on the side of my adopted country rather than the country of my birth.. I took a bullet in the shoulder during the war and that is when I screamed, tasting the blood and feeling the searing pain of the lead bullet entering my flesh.
I wish I could go back to the dream, to find out what happened to me after the battle. Was I happy? Did I have a family, friends? It left me with a sense of yearning for knowledge that I haven’t felt in years. It might be time to do some research into my own family's history. I know more about the Rossi side of the family than I do the KIncaid. I can guess the reason why. I did not want to be like my father and so avoided anything that would tie me to him. It seems a bit childish now but I was only a child when I left home. At sixteen I thought I was half grown but as an adult I see that I was still a youngster when I left Moss Point. It is a fucking miracle I survived with as few scars as I did. Looking back I feel that I was lucky, almost as if there was someone looking out for me. Making sure I was in the right place at the right time. LIke meeting Mike Richardson. Then later meeting Sara Mason and Jackson Alexander. Was it fate? I always say that fate is nothing more than coincidence but I could be wrong about it. I have been wrong before. I fell in love with Ethan and that was almost fatal for me. It killed my ability to trust anyone for years. I walked away from relationships because of the scars Ethan caused. Jesus, it is almost four in the morning. No wonder I am rambling on like this. I will forget half of this by tomorrow morning.
AAK
October 7
I have been hiding away from the world for the last three days. I leave the house to take Max to the park and to pick up food. The rest of the time I have spent in my home office working on the book. The words have poured out of me lately and I could do little except sit in front of my laptop and let the words almost magically appear on the screen. I am honest enough to admit that the words will need editing. But the story is there, the facts are right, and the plot is clear. It will be one of my best, I believe. It is different than my usual supernatural or haunted stories. I am not going to say any more about it now. It would feel like I am jinxing myself if I do.
Right now I need to get up and shower. I can smell myself and it isn’t pleasant. Then I am going to take my dog for a walk then send the rough draft to Jax. Then wait for Jax to give me his feedback on the story. If he likes it it will be published. If not, I will keep it hidden away until I decide what to do with it. Publish it under another name? I am not sure if that would even be legal since I do have a contract with Jax’s publishing company. Another item to add to my list of questions.
AAk
October 10
Caleb set me up with a blind date. Or rather his wife Theresa did but Caleb talked me into it. I agreed to it in a moment of weakness or maybe it was loneliness. I agreed to meet Trevor at the Dishroom for dinner at six and a movie after if we both seem interested. I did a bit of research on the restaurant. It was styled after Irani cafes in the twentieth century Bombay. I had no idea what that meant but it did catch my interest. I also read that you could eat in the basement section of the cafe and watch the chefs create their dishes. If Trevor agreed to that part then it would be a sign the date might be a success.
I arrived on time, which for me is ten minutes early, and gave the hostess my name. The place felt good, the vibe it gave off seemed to draw you in and relax you. I asked the hostess if there was room in the basement section and she put my name down for a table. I ordered a drink and waited for Trevor to arrive. When he did arrive I can’t say I was disappointed. He was a very good looking man. Not as tall as me but a few pounds heavier. His walk said he was confident and so did his green eyes when he smiled at me. For god’s sake the man even had dimples. Again, not a complaint from me. He introduced himself and agreed to having the meal in the basement. Good choice. When he ordered the Debonair I broke out into laughter. It was the same drink I had ordered earlier. Vodka, orange, star anise, ginger, bitters, and orange cream soda. Sweet and bitter at the same time. We shared starters of calamari and far far. He had the Masala prawns and I had the Awadhi lamb with rice. We talked over dinner about movies, music, and our shared interest in motorcycles. I was silently thanking Theresa for setting up the date. He seemed to be enjoying himself just as much. Over dessert of velvette fogg we agreed to go to a theatre to see a movie marathon that Trevor was excited to see. Horror movies. I have never had a probably with them, obviously, because of my job.
I should have known it was too good to be true. As soon as read the title of the movies I knew there was going to be trouble. Hallowed Grounds, Rise of the Scarecrows, and Night Creatures. If there was a situation designed to make me uncomfortable this would be it. Sitting in the dark with a bunch of strangers with scarecrows killing people? Nope. There was nothing on this earth worth going into that theatre. Not even a night with Daniel Craig, Karl Urban, and Ezra Miller. The damn things have terrified me since birth or shortly after it. I break out in a cold sweat just seeing them on the television so seeing them on a big screen would send me into cardiac arrest. I had to come up with an excuse and left Trevor standing at the theatre looking confused. I will text him tomorrow and let him know the truth. But looking into his eyes and telling him I was afraid was impossible and humiliating. Would I get a second date? Probably not.
I went to the Blue Post and had a few drinks before heading home to Max. He was surprised to see me. Why? Because he was watching the neighbor’s cat from his garden window, plotting his escape. I think he wanted to make a new friend, at least that is what I hoped.
AAK
October 21
Adriana asked me today if I still have my first camera. I do. My old Canon is broken now but still sits at a place of honor on my shelf. How could I toss it away when it saved me from going insane?
I picked it up in a pawn shop in Chicago. Seventy five dollars. It was the last of the money I made from my job at the truck stop diner. I did not need the camera. Food and shelter should have been my priority. But the camera called to me. Sara would say it was fate. I would say it was a brief moment of weakness.
I started taking pictures of items people threw away. The forgotten, left behind things people no longer wanted or needed. These things spoke to me in a way I’ve never admitted to anyone.But it wouldn’t take a shrink to figure it out.
During my breaks from cooking I would read the photography book I nicked from the local library. I learned about f stops, lens, how to develop my own prints. But the most important thing about photography I learned months later. After I met Mike Richardson.
I learned it was an escape. It let me put a barrier between the ugliness I witnessed and my own feelings. It helped me focus. And it helped me see the truth. People, normal people, did this on a daily basis without the aid of a camera. They blind themselves to the world around them. Only seeing what is convenient for them. They walk among the supernatural on a daily basis but fail to see. The odd tingling or cold draft? The house is not old, it is haunted.
The sudden rise to power of an incompetent politician? The work of a demon.. The nightmarish dreams could be the work of a wraith.
I need another beer and Max looks like he wants another treat. How can I say no to that face?
I have lost track of the purpose of this entry. I started off talking about my camera and ended up talking about demons. It is fitting in a way, is not it? Since my camera was destroyed by a vampire. Or rather I destroyed it when I used it to knock out a friend who was temporarily a vampire.
Christ, if anyone read these journal entries they would think I’m insane. My shrink assures me that I’m not. She’s also the one who told me to write in the journal at least once a damn week. Why I am still doing it years later is a mystery to me. Maybe it helps, maybe not. But I do it. One journal is filled each year. Then I burn the journal before starting a new one in the new year.
Back to destroying my first camera. A former friend of mine, John Watson, was bitten by a vampire while helping me exterminate a den of six. I was able to prevent him from feeding on anyone. I obtained the cure and forced it down John’s throat. The cure was not instantaneous, unfortunately. I had to fight him off and It only cost me a cracked rib and half a dozen bruises. (It eventually cost me John’s friendship but there is no need to go over the details again.)
And it cost me my camera. I used it to knock him out before he could bite my neck. I had to do it. If he feed John would become a monster and I would have killed him. Then Sherlock would kill me. So my camera saved us both. I still keep it on the shelf next to Gideon’s skull.
can not believe I can write Gideon’s name without getting sick. After St Louis I would take a drink every time I even thought his name. Or when I took off my shirt. Or had a nightmare about the blood and screams. I drank a lot. Enough for my doctors to worry about my health and sanity. Even Sara worried enough to fly out to see me and talk to Royale.
Royale is unusual. She is part of the hunter community by birth yet part of the scientific world because of her training. How Sara found her and had her assigned to my case is something I need to discuss with her some day soon.
I have rambled on about this long enough. My trusty old Canon is broken and battered but I will always keep it. End of story.
AAK
October 23
Be not so sorry for what you've done
You must forget them now, it's done
And when you wake up you will find you can run
Be not so sorry for what you've done
Be Not So Fearful by A.C. Newman
I killed a young woman today. Mid-thirties, trim build, red hair.
I cut her throat with one quick movement and watched as blood ran down her chest. Did I feel guilt? No. Sorrow? Yes, but not for me. For her. For who she used to be before the monster took control. The demon who possessed her had destroyed her soul long before I cut her throat. It is one of the many reasons that cause me to hate demons more than any other supernatural creature. The take control of the human body and leave the soul behind to witness the horrors. Murder, mutilation, manipulation.
How do I come to terms with killing someone? I do not. Not completely. But I have learned to disassociate myself from my actions. My actions as a hunter are separate from my life as Adam Kincaid. I keep enough of Hunter in my life to protect myself and others when I’m off the job. I can not allow Kincaid to be vulnerable.
There are times I feel like I have more than one personality. One for the hunter and one for the photographer. But it isn’t as simple as that. The two Kincaid’s coexist and even work together when they have to. But the hunter Kincaid also protects photographer Kincaid. Shields him from ugliness of the hunts, keeps him safe from the dangers that he faces in everyday life.
Christ, I sound insane. No one can ever read this without thinking I am nuts. I need a cup of coffee and a shower.
AAK
October 27
No, I don’t want a pumpkin spiced latte. Or a pumpkin cookie. Why the hell is everyone obsessed with this stuff? Give me a cup of hot, black coffee and don’t talk to me again until I finish it. Why the hell Caleb wanted to meet here is beyond me. I hate places like this. All the hipsters with their mustaches and belief they are being original. Or the businessmen who are rude to the waitstaff. A pet peeve of mine. Treat everyone with respect, damn it. There is one person who seems interesting. A young woman with green hair. She seems to be sketching the patrons of the shop. Clearly it is amusing her because she will burst into giggles at strange times.
Damn, she caught me watching her. But instead of getting mad she held up her sketch pad and showed me her work. It made me laugh. She had sketched the rude businessman being attacked by half a dozen cats along with the comment “Eat the Rude.” Not sure why she wrote it but I like her thought process. I was about to go over to her table but Caleb came in and I lost track of the young woman.
Caleb wants to know if I can stay with the kids while he and Theresa go to court tomorrow. I said yes without any hesitation. Max can help me keep an eye on them.
AAK
October 28
Caleb and Theresa won the case. It was actually dismissed but I prefer to think of it as a win for the good guys. The judge was given information about the couple suing them for custody. I was surprised by this, honestly. Who would do something like that? Finding the real reason the couple wanted the kids and giving the evidence to the man who would ultimately make the decision? It must have been someone who really wanted to the children to stay with Caleb and his wife.
Max says I should admit to doing it. But ,no, Caleb does not need to know. Why? Because he frankly doesn't care how it happened or why. He gets to keep his kids and that is the only thing that matters to the man. If my friend is happy that is enough for me.
That and him paying for the shirt his youngest ruined when she poured paint down my back. That kid is sneaky as hell. She will make a fantastic hunter someday but she wants to be an artist. In space. Creative and clever. Caleb and Theresa are going to have their hands full with her. The baby slept most of the day so he wasn’t much trouble. A couple of diaper changes and a bottle and he was happy. The oldest three kept themselves entertained with Max and video games. I offered to stay with them so Caleb and Theresa could go out to dinner to celebrate but they wanted to be with their family. So we ordered pizza, popped popcorn and watched Zootopia. It was surprisingly fun. Max and I made it home after midnight and curled up on the sofa to sleep.
AAK
October 31
Monsters are real. But people do not see them. Most choose not to because it would upset their sense of superiority. Humans are the top of the food chain in their minds and it would destroy them to find out there are creatures who are stronger, faster, and even smarter. The streets would flowing with blood, The world would become a slaughterhouse with each species trying to become the dominant race. I am not overstating it.
The creatures, or most of them,, depend on the humans deliberate blindness. Their numbers are smaller than that of homo sapiens. If they were discovered they would be slaughtered. On the other hand, vampires would love to bring the fight into the daylight. So to speak since sunlight will give them a nasty case of sunburn within minutes. They would no longer have to keep their numbers low to avoid humans noticing their feeding habits. Vampires would relish the blood being spilled in the fight.
So would demons. Especially the red eyed crossroads demons. They would no longer have to wait for the truly desperate to come to them in some deal made on a dusty road. Like the blues player Robert Johnson. He was from my home state of Mississippi. We all heard about his deal with the devil in exchange for being the best blues guitarist of all time. But most see it as a legend. Hunters know the truth of it. If demons could operate in the open can you imagine the types of deals we would see? Christ, I do not even want to think about it. I’m still not convinced Trump did not sign a deal. But it is better than thinking my former homeland is full of racist bigots.
Raugaru, ghosts, werewolves, shifters, shapeshifters, women in white, demons, skinwalkers, wendigo, ghouls, jinn (this one almost killed me and I did not even care. Interesting story), shtriga, vetela. I have hunted all of them and killed them without hesitation. Except the Jinn.
The story about that one is something I should write down before I forget all the details of it.
The point of the entry is monsters are real. If your skin crawls and that voice in the back of your mind says run? RUN. RUN FAST.
AAK
November 6
This entry is going to be a long one I can tell. I will try to cover everything that has happened in the last five days but some details will be skipped to keep the entry as short as possible. And so I can get some sleep tonight. I know I could write for hours about the hunt but no, I need sleep more.
I guess I should start with a few basic facts about vampires. They do not sparkle no matter how hard Hollywood has worked to make them sexy. They are not afraid of garlic or crosses and the sun will only give the older ones a bad sunburn. Asking before entering a private residence? A myth. If they have ingested enough human blood they can heal from almost any wound. They are called vrykolakas in Greece or strigol. They have sharp, retractable teeth. Multiple ones, not just two. They can see in pitch black darkness and can smell humans from a great distance.
And they mate for life.
This point is important to this case. While in Exter I killed a vampire named William Harris. He was a tall, thin man of about twenty years old. I caught him by surprise as he attempted to feed from a French tourist. I say attempted because it was clear the vampire had been injured recently which is the only reason the tourist was able to hold him off for even a moment. I stabbed him in the shoulder and he turned, hissing in anger and frustration. The tourist very wisely decided to escape while he could. It gave me the time I needed to take off the man’s head. I keep saying man but he was not human. I can not let myself forget that. He looks human but stopped being one the first time he feed on human blood. I thought was the end of it since there had only been the one report of vampire attacks in the area. Believers in the supernatural have their own network which is how I heard about the tall blond vampire. I went back to the hotel without bothering to take more than the most basic of precautions. My mistake almost killed me and lead to the events of the next four days. If I had taken the time to burn sulfur or skunk weed and rub the ashes on my clothes most of this would have been avoided. Or all of it. I should not waste time second guessing myself but I have a bad habit of doing that very thing.
The next day I spent the time photographing the area. Why not take advantage of the situation. Of the dozens of pictures I took I believe three of them would be good enough for the book I am working on. The others are good but not publishing in a book good. I think Jax would agree with me.
The moment I opened the hotel room I knew there was something wrong. I pulled my blade from its sheath what felt like seconds later but I still was not fast enough to avoid being pinned to the wall by a furious vampire with cold blue eyes and fire red hair. My pulse was racing as she leaned close and took a deeply sniffed my neck. She told me I had been the one to kill her husband. My gut dropped to my feet as her words sunk in. I knew what that meant. She wanted my blood. Literally. It was clear from her tone and the expression on her face. The bathroom door opening drew my attention away from her gaze. Standing by the doorway was a short dark skinned man who appeared to be in his late twenties. But he could have been five or even ten times that. Vampires can live for a very long time if they feed properly and don’t lose their heads. The man called her Olivia with a voice that would give Morgan Freeman or James Earl Jones a run for their money. I now knew the name of the woman who wanted to kill me. She snapped back at him and called him Marcus, instructing him to gather my things since they would be taking me back to the nest. This was not good news for me. It meant there were others since vampires who create a nest travel in groups of four to eight. The more established ones are made up of mated couples. If Olivia’s nest is made up of couples I could kiss my chance of a quick death goodbye. They would not act impulsively like newborn vampires. They would know how and enjoy the torture before they killed me. I had no doubt that was Olivia’s plan. I felt a sharp pain in the side of my head and the next thing I know I am waking up in the back of a van.
I recognized Olivia’s voice and could see the man named Marcus driving the van. I didn’t know the strange woman whose foot was kicking me in the ribs. I must have groaned or made some kind of noise because Olivia moved quickly to my side. She explained that she was Olivia Greene aged two hundred and twenty-seven years old. I interrupted her to say she didn’t look a day over twenty-three and was rewarded with a swift kick to my balls by the strange curly haired woman. After that it was several minutes before I could concentrate on what Olivia was saying. She was explaining how she had found and mated with William when she was one hundred and ninety-three years old. Olivia had waited years to find the right one and her hatred of me was intense. In an odd way I could sympathize with her. If I had waited over a hundred years to find my mate only to have him killed? I would want blood too. I am not going to detail the things she said she was going to do. Honestly, I want to forget them. I must have aged thirty years just listening to her coldly list them all. Marcus called back to Lauren (Miss Curly Hair) and told her they would stopping because of an accident on the road. She was in charge of keeping me quiet and from attempting to escape, it seems. Until that moment I had no real hope of escape but if the accident distracted them? I might be able to get away. Or at the very least get them to kill me quickly instead of draining me of my blood. I still had a knife in my boot, coated as it usually was with a faint amount of dead man’s blood. It would certainly slow one of them down. It’s poison to them and would delay their healing abilities for several hours. Now my only problem was how to get to it. Someone must have been looking out for me because ten minutes later, it could have been longer, the van hit a bump and both of the women looked away long enough for me to reach into my boot to grab my knife. The years of training with a knife came into use when I threw the knife and hit Lauren in the throat. A gurgle escaped her at the same time Olivia screeched at me. Marcus roared. There is no other way to describe the sound coming from him. It seems I had once again managed to injure a mated pair of vampires. Olivia barked a command when Marcus turned to bare his teeth at me. He was told to drive to their home now. Lauren would heal, she said, when she feed off of one of their prisoners. At this I knew my plans to escape the van would have to be put aside. I could not leave innocent people behind to be killed by these monsters. When Olivia approached me I didn’t resist, letting her knock me out again. If I survived this I would have one hell of a concussion and more than one bruise. So far no bones had been broken so I will count that in my favor.
The smell of mildew and fear woke me. Some people might tell you that you can not smell fear but they just haven't realized it yet. Stale sweat combined with an acrid odor that will cause your nose to burn. Once you smell it you will never forget it. I could hear two, no, three voices. One man, two women. I blinked a few time to adjust to the darkness and gingerly sat up. They had been held at the nest for three days. One of their group had already disappeared upstairs. A day and a half later and he still had not returned. I knew what it meant but they could only offer a few crazy ideas. None of them were the truth. We spent less than an hour talking before the man Marcus came downstairs with another vampire. This one was unusual. I had never seen an albino in person much less an albino vampire. His voice was oddly musical, even hypnotic. He introduced himself at Fletcher and inspected each of us with his strange eyes. Fletcher decided to take the other human man with him and between him and Marcus there was nothing I could do to stop it. Yet another thing I will feel guilty about for the rest of my life. I am going to skip what happened next for my own sake. I can be a selfish bastard I want to protect myself from the memory of their screams.
The next morning I was brought upstairs to have an audience with Olivia. Marcus was with his mate, Lauren. She was not healing fast enough even with the man’s blood and Marcus had no interest in anything but his mate. Fletcher was watching from a chair by the window. He remained silent the entire time, the only sign of life was the way his eyes would flicker between me and Olivia. A vague suspicion started to form in my mind. Did the strange one have feelings for the group leader? He had to know she would never return the feelings. Maybe he was more unusual than I first suspected. A plan started to form at that very moment.
Another day passed and another one of the victims disappeared upstairs. I knew she would be feed to Lauren in an attempt to save the vampire’s life. The other woman, Molly, was starting to lose hope of survival. I could see it in her expression and the way she moved. The plan would have to start tonight. When Fletcher came down to bring us food and water (They needed to keep us alive after all) I started talking, suggesting. There was no sense in fighting at the time. I knew I could never win against him in my condition. The interview with Olivia had left me with a sprained wrist and two broken fingers. My ribs felt suspiciously bruised and I could only hope they were not broken. By the time Fletcher went upstairs I could see a change in him. It might be enough to save both of us. The humans, not the vampires. They will be dead as soon as I can do it.
It worked. Sort of. One of the vampires did manage to escape. Fletcher, the odd albino with the musical voice, is still walking the earth. He has my scent now and would be able to find me at anytime if he wanted to. It is my hope that he is too busy making his own nest to track me down. Marcus, Lauren, and Olivia are dead. They will never harm another human. The woman who survived, Molly, will never be the same. Something broke in her that night. It happens that way, doesn’t it? You either break or you become stronger. I didn’t break and the only thing I made stronger was the walls between Hunter and Kincaid. I made arrangements for Molly to be seen by a shrink familiar with the supernatural. I call to Royale had taken care of that loose end. I asked him to keep me updated but I am not sure if he will do it. Patient client confidentiality does apply here.
Max has lost the fight against sleep and is snoring peacefully at my feet. I knew this would be a long entry but did not expect it to go on for pages and pages. I should cut down part of it but not tonight. I need to shower then go to bed. Thankfully, I do not have to work tomorrow so Max and I can be as lazy as we want to be. I plan on paying back Max’s patience with an extra long walk in the park and a stop at the bakery that makes his favorite doggy biscuits. I am not sure what I did to deserve such a loyal friend like Max.
AAK
November 17
A client asked me an interesting question today while I was taking their picture for their holiday cards. She wanted to know about my worst Christmas memory. Did she think I had some sort of tragic backstory? Or was she having a terrible year and wanted to make herself feel better by listening to someone else’s trouble? Maybe I am over thinking it and she was simply bored.
I told her it was the year my Grandmother Izzy died. Izzy did all of the holiday cooking for the family and the year she died was miserable. My mother had the meal catered that year. The food was traditionally American instead of the Italian feast Izzy made every year. There is nothing wrong with turkey and dressing but my fifteen year old self missed the lasagna. My client was suitably heartbroken by the tale. After she left i thought about it. Was it my worst Christmas? No.
I have half a dozen Christmases that could be considered the worst. The year I left home, my second year living on the streets, Mike’s death and then Daniel’s, Gideon and St Louis. All of them were bad. None of them compared to the one I spent in Wyoming. I do not want to talk about. Not here. Not to anyone.
My best Christmas is easy. It was the year I got Max. My yellow lab was a gift from my friend Agatha. I never planned on having a pet but I loved the furry guy from the first time I held him. He licked my nose and my fate was sealed. I was a doggy parent.
The story of how I picked his name is an amusing one. I will write it down next week. For now I am off to have dinner with my new neighbor.
AAK
November 20
Gabriel (The archangel)
Maxwell (I like the name)
Dresden (From the novels by Jim Butcher)
Alton (From the cooking show)
Bowie (David, obviously)
Bones (Doctor McCoy)
It took me over a week to come up with a list of names for my new puppy. I would call him a different name every day in an effort to find the one that suited him.. I am lucky he does not have problems with multiple personalities. I took notes of the pup’s characteristics to see if any of the names fit him perfectly. Right away I knew Bones wouldn’t do. My dog did not have a cranky bone in his body. Bowie did not fit either. He wasn’t outrageous enough for the name. He was as smart as Alton and chewing on my new shoes ruled out the name Gabriel. Destroying a three hundred dollar pair of shoes was less than angelic.
By the end of the week it was a toss up between Dresden and Maxwell. Dresden would work on two levels. The name would represent my hunter side and remind me of one of my favorite book series. The wizard is a badass who still manages to be awkward at times. This struck a familiar chord with me.
After Agatha asked me his name for the fifteenth time I wrote both of the names on a slip of paper and picked the name out of a hat. I picked Dresden first then tossed it back in the hat. Why? The name wasn’t perfect. Then selected the slip with the name Maxwell and repeated the process three damn times before giving up in frustration. My dog would have three names.
And that is how Maxwell Dresden Kincaid was named.
And after all of that no one calls him anything but Max.
AAK
November 23
Today was the anniversary of my Grandpa Camden’s death. I don’t talk about him as much as I do Grandma Izzy but I loved him just as much. I was twelve when he died. We woke up Thanksgiving morning and he was gone. He died in his sleep, a peaceful end to his life. He was a good man. Kind and warm hearted, polite but not afraid to speak his mind when he needed to. He was the type of grandfather every little boy wants. He taught me how to whittle and would spend hours playing soldiers with me. I had a set of tin soldiers, real ones, not the cheap plastic ones you see nowadays. He did not care if we were battling the Red Coats or aliens from the planet Draxa. It would all depend on my mood and he would be a willing accomplice to my stories.
When I was ten years old he took me and Daniel camping in Frog Hollow for four days. It was one of the best times of my young life at the time. We camped out in a tent, didn’t shower for days, swam in the creek, caught fish. Generally lived wild and without too many rules. Even at ten my mother’s rules grated my nerves and being away from home for four days was a taste of freedom I never forgot. Grandpa Camden gave us our first taste of camping and it was a love Daniel and I shared until he died.
Grandpa Camden also played the piano. Not often because there seemed to be some bad memories attached to it but when he played it was magical. I could close my eyes now and still hear him playing. It was mostly religious songs but I still loved hearing them. When my own father told me only women played the piano I questioned him because I knew Camden played. My father refused to answer the question. It was the first time I questioned my father’s authority but it would not be the last time. I think my father blamed Grandpa Camden for my quiet rebellion.
Years later that rebellion would cause me to leave home at sixteen. It was also Camden’s teaching that gave me the strength to stand by my convictions. He was loved by me even if I don’t talk about him everyday. I realize too that I let Harper Grace down by not telling her about her Grandfather. She was too young to remember him properly. It is too much to hope that Darcy Jane did it. Maybe Daniel did it? I hope so.
AAK
November 25
Can a killer be a good man?
I read somewhere that the answer is no. Or maybe I heard it? I am not sure. That killing, even if self defense, is a sin against God. The only time it is not a sin is in the field of battle. So only God gets to set the rules? He wasn’t there, I was. If I remember my Sunday school lessons God once wiped out an entire nation because of his petty jealous? I would research it but reading the Bible again seems like an unnecessary punishment at this time.
Personally, I’m not too concerned about offending him. I stopped believing in him when I was nine years old. But that is a story for a different time.
I told him about the first man I killed. The him is not important to the story, only the fact I talked to someone about it. To him it was a clear case of self defense, not murder. But even seventeen years later I wondered if I could have handled it differently. Talk my way out of it? Or try to create a distraction? But at the time, I made the split second decision of cutting his throat rather than being raped and left for dead in that filthy alley in New York City. It was a week before my eighteenth birthday and I wanted to live.
Six years later I killed again. Her death wasn’t an accident or in defense of my own life. Did she deserve to die? Without a doubt, yes. What she did to deserve my wrath is something I will never reveal, the details are locked away forever. I can not, no won’t, write them down even here. This is a secret that dies with me.
The third death on my hands was that of an innocent man. I did not know his name at the time but I clearly remember the faded green of his eyes and the quiet look of acceptance in them as I raised my khukuri. We both knew that it was only a matter of time before he killed, the vampire venom was already changing him. I couldn’t save him but I could show my respect for his decision to die instead of turning into a monster. I gave him the Hunter’s funeral that he deserved. Eventually I tracked down his family and left his possessions with them. I told them what I could then left, feeling regret for not being able to save him at the time. Years later I found there was a cure for vampire venom but it wouldn’t have helped him. I did not know who sired him and I did not have enough time to find him before the man feed on human blood.
Revenge. Cold, calculated revenge. From the moment I discovered what Nathaniel O'Hare had done to my friend Elizabeth I knew he would die. I planned it down to the final second of his life. From the ropes I used to bind him, the blade I used to slice into his skin, to the music I played as he died every detail was deliberately chosen. Some might consider it murder. Others would call it justice but I knew what it was. Do I have any regrets for my actions? Not a damn one. I would do it again in a heartbeat.
Now you know the story of the human deaths at my hands. Would you still consider me a good man?
A.AK
November 26
I can no longer use the Nick Webber ID. He was a thirty year old single man and a restaurant owner from Washington State. Or that is what the paperwork said. It does not matter now. I can not use it on a hunt. Or the Michael Brennan identity, a thirty-three year old, married with two kids, salesman from the Midwest.
Ethan Thorne, a thirty-four year old, divorced man with no children, works as a financial consultant from New York. This identification card is still good and it is the one I plan on using this weekend when I travel to Brighton. The hunt is a simple one, or as simple as it gets in this business. I still need to be careful since mistakes can still be made no matter how careful I am with my planning.
November 27
It wasn't the drive itself that was bad. After all, I had once driven twelve hours to investigate a case that turned out to be nothing more than a college prank gone horribly wrong. No, it was the quiet that was getting to me Too much time to think of things I would rather not deal with. No matter how loudly I play the music or how badly I sang along, I could not get the thoughts out of my head.
The simple truth was that I was bored. I have been spending more time at desk writing or behind the camera than I was hunting down an interesting case. My life had become routine, ordinary. I went for a run everyday, not because I was chasing something or someone but because I needed the exercise. I could not remember the last time I went out for pint much less the last time I had a decent shag.
AAK
November 28
Most hunters are natural born storytellers. I know I have said it before but that does not mean it is wrong. We use our skills to insert ourselves into official police investigations, to talk to family and friends, to get information we normally would not have access to as private citizens.
It gets us out of sticky situations too. I have used my ability to tell a story to get out of arrests, tickets, and on one memorable time a bank vault. Now that is a story but one I will not tell now. It is better after I have had a few drinks. If I use my Midwestern accent to tell it, well, it is even better.
I use my story telling in my books too. I take a photograph and make up a story to go with it. Now the readers do not know if the story is true or not. It gives them the power. My power is the ability to make them consider what is true and what is false. To make them doubt reality if only for a moment. I wish I had the ability to find out how many of the people guess the correct answer.
Mike would tell me the perfect man for me would have the ability to tell when I am lying. He would not put up with my bullshit and this made him perfect? Mike had some strange ideas about love. I would say the perfect man for me would look like Daniel Craig, fight like him too, and make me laugh. He would have to be able to put up with my job and know that I will have secrets even from him. He would have to be, fuck this, I will never find the perfect man. I thought I had twice and each time ended in my heart being torn apart. Not literally, of course. But that might be less painful that betrayal of someone you love. After Ethan I gave up trying to find love. Then I met John Watson and fell in love with him. He was kind to me but I realized later that was all it was. There are times I consider telling him what I have learned but why bring up something that might embarrass both of us. I do not believe it is possible for him to love anyone but Sherlock Holmes. John needs someone outrageous, bigger than life, someone to revolve around. I am not that person. I live my life quietly by choice and by design. Being a hunter means living in the shadows, not the spotlight. John needed to be standing next to the man in the light. I stay in the darkness.
I read over the last sentence and laughed to myself. I am not batman. He has always been my least favorite of the superheroes. Yet I stay in the darkness does sound like something the Dark Knight would say.
I need to stop writing. I drank too much and now my words are starting to blur, rambling on and on and on.
AAK
December 2
Caleb and I had to hunt down a runaway today. A human one, not supernatural. It brought back more memories than I felt comfortable talking about. Even with Caleb. But here? I can write it all down without fear of judgement. After all, I know how crazy I am and learned to accept it years ago.
In every country, in every city there is a room like that one. A room used by the abandoned, the lost, and the forgotten. I looked around at the graffiti covered walls, the filthy mattress on the floor, and the ripe smell of stale sweat, sex, and urine.
The smell reminds me of a time when I was just another body, another lost soul in a room filled with the desperate. I was sixteen the first time I stumbled upon a room like this one. New York City had plenty of places like it and more kids like me than anywhere else in the world. It was in a room like this where I learned that sleep made you vulnerable, an easy target for the predators who prowled the area looking for the weak.
I was not as strong as the others but I was faster. I ran when I could, fought when I had to, and learned how to play the game. In time I found my skill set, my quick hands providing me with a way to survive that did not involve selling drugs or my body. I learned to pick a pocket, to pick a lock, and the art of bartering to get what i needed. The skills served me well later. Lying was another skill I learned and I use it to this day.
If I had stayed in Moss Point I would have learned to lie too but the lies would be of a different sort. I would be lying to co-workers, to family, and to the few friends I had in my hometown. The only way my family would have let me stay is if I stopped being gay. Which is impossible for my reasons. But my family viewed it as a choice, one meant to hurt them. They never considered how it would be from my point of view. Who in their right mind would choose to be gay? We suffer because of it, emotionally and sometimes physically because of the way we were born. I couldn’t do it. The one time I was unwilling to lie changed the course of my entire life. Ironic, is it not?
Would I become a photographer if I stayed? Would I still be a businessman, and author, or an owner of a dog? Would I have friends like Caleb and Adriana? Tessa and Will? Would I know the truth about the supernatural or would I still be living in denial of the other world around me? Would I find love in my small home town? Or would I be alone with only one night stands when I travel to bigger cities and was able to find a hook up?
I am asking a lot of questions tonight. But curiosity has always been one of my flaws. I can not resist finding the answers. Even if they caused me pain. I know going back to Moss Point would cause me pain but it would also give me a chance to say goodbye to my past. I would be able to visit Izzy’s grave and my grandfather’s too. I could put daisies on both. Izzy loved them. I would pick them for her as a kid and she would put them in an old Mason jar on the kitchen table. My mother thought they were tacky but Grandma Izzy would ignore her daughter’s snobbery in a way I never learned how to do. I know they are mother and daughter but they have nothing in common except blood and dark hair.
Max is snoring at my feet now and it is getting louder by the minute. I believe he is ready to go to bed and is trying to hint that it is past my bedtime too. He is probably right about that since I have to get up early for a business meeting. But on night’s like this my mind wanders and it is hard to put down my pen.
AAK
December 4
Max had an appointment at the vet’s today. Routine shots and I wanted to talk to Dr Lloyd about getting Max fixed. I know I have put it off for too long already. The doctor would give me that look again, I know. But this time I will schedule the appointment and keep it this time.
Max laid at my feet while we waited for our appointment. He snored and I watched the other dog and cat owners. I can honestly say it was more entertaining than half of the television shows I have watched recently.
There was the grey haired woman in a royal purple dress arguing about with the receptionist about the breed of her dog. She was sure the dog was pure breed but it was a mix of a poodle and a, well, I’m not sure what. I had trouble understanding the receptionist over the woman’s screeching. The woman left in a rage, vowing to find a vet who would appreciate how special her dog was.
Then there was the woman who came in to get her cat’s shots. Without her cats. When the receptionist asked about them the ditzy woman said she didn’t know she had to bring them with her. Someone needs a doctor and I don’t think it is the cats.
Archibald Lancaster Downing the Third. I am not making this shit up. Someone actually named their dog that. Why? It was a small, rat like dog. Maybe they call it Archie?
A young man was at the desk arguing about the bill. He completely ignored the large sign that said payment was due at the time of service. Or he could not read it. Or see it. I think his orange hair was down to his knees. And he had a familiar odor to him. Someone had smoked a joint before he visited the vet. The sickly sweet smell was making the receptionist gag and she was holding her nose to avoid inhaling it.
But my favorite was an old man who wanted to buy fake balls for his dog. He was worried about his dog’s confidence after he had been fixed. He was afraid the other dogs would laugh at his Rudy. I laughed then looked down at Max. I told him as much as I loved him I would not spend a penny on fake balls for him.
Dr Lloyd gave Max his shots and we scheduled Max’s surgery for next year.
When we left the old woman was back with her poodle mix and was demanding to be seen. I thought Max deserved a treat after the long day so we went to the park and I bought him an ice cream cone.
AAK
December 5
Ezra was waiting by the studio door when I arrived at work this morning. He had acquired a navy blue jacket and orange scarf since the last time he visited. The hat really caught my attention though. The best way to describe it was a pile of leaves. On anyone else it would look ridiculous but he managed to carry it off. I half expected him to take off again when I approached but he remained still, his eyes locked on mine. The expression behind his glasses seemed wary but curious at the same time. When I was an arms length away I noticed the smell again. Honey, peppercorns, and fennel. They should not work together but the do. I noticed I was breathing deeply and took a step back which caused Ezra to frown.
I could tell he was about to bolt so I held out my hand and asked him to wait. He tilted his head and looked at me for several seconds for nodding. A gust of wind reminded me of how cold it was that day and I shivered. I asked him to come inside so we can talk and he agreed. Not verbally but he did look at the door and then at me so I took it as a yes. I avoided going into the lift. Can’t say why but we took the stairs to the studio. All the while I kept up a running commentary about the studio, the warehouse, anything I could think of at the time.
After opening the studio door and turned off the alarm, intentionally leaving the camera rolling. I wanted to be able to review the film to see if the cameras noticed something that I missed. I gestured towards the blue sofa in the waiting area and told him to have a seat.
A brief emotion flashed in his eyes, so quickly I could not identify it. He took a seat but not on the sofa. Instead, he sat on the floor and crossed his legs into a lotus position. When he spoke I could not hide my surprise. I had been expecting a light almost musical voice. But his voice sounded like he had been chewing gravel for decades. Deep, rough, and powerful.
His words surprised me too. He asked if I approved of his offering and I realized he had left the stone. There was a deeper meaning to it, this I knew instinctively so I was careful to avoid giving him my approval. I told him I had received a gift but had not been sure who left it.
Our conversation was interrupted by my first client and I cursed Mrs Morgan’s habit of being early. In this case, half an hour early. Ezra was gone and half way down the stairs before I was able to catch up with him.
Hopefully he will come back.
AAK
December 7
Sara called me again today. This time I did talk to her about what happened this summer. It was not easy and there were several long moments of silence as we both struggled to come up with the right words. We each other well enough after all these years that we each understood the reason for the silence. I missed her and I told her so but also said that I was still having trouble forgiving her for what she had done to me.
I know it sounds like something from a self help book or an episode of Dr Phil. I would bet Royale would be proud of me for recognizing and discussing the trouble I was having with forgiveness. Holding a grudge is easy for me. Seeking revenge is even easier. Forgiveness is something new to me. I never have forgiven my parents or Darcy Jane. Pushed it to the back of my mind, yes. Accepted how they treated me? Again, yes. But there is still anger there and pain. It will happen when I am ready. Sara told me she had sent a package with my gifts from Aiden and Riley. It should be arriving by the end of the week. My gifts to the kids had been ordered and set for delivery weeks ago. Being overly organized can be a blessing and a curse at times. We hung up the phone after a few more minutes of small talk. I will call her again before the holidays end.
I still have not found the perfect gift for Adriana. It is turning out to be harder than I expected. I could buy gifts for her three cats but that seems to be too easy. A book? A print of one of my photos? No, I have already given her two of them. I sent her wooden cats from Germany so that would not work either. I don’t have long to come up with a gift. She deserves something special.
Caleb and Theresa’s gift has been wrapped and placed under the tree. A separate gift for the children is sitting beside it. Both gifts are on the extravagant side but Caleb has been through a lot this year and I wanted to make this Christmas special for all of them. Look at me playing Santa Claus. I have a gift for Jules too but I am not sure if he will want it. We are talking again but our times of having casual dinners together stopped months ago. Max has a gift for Flossy. A soft blanket the same golden shade as her fur. It will be a warm place for her to curl up on. I think she will like it.
I even have a gift for Mrs Rhee. It is a project for her to work on. She mentioned wanting to trace her ancestry and the history of her family. I ordered the test for her and gift certificate for a year of free access to the company’s database. I did ask her grandson about it before purchasing it. He agreed that she would love it. She would also love the fact we are planning on getting together for coffee this weekend. Mrs Rhee was right about one thing. He is very attractive.
Max’s present is hidden in my closet. I picked him up a new collar and leash made of leather with protective sigils burned into it. He will be stylish and safe at the dog park. There is also a box of his favorite treats, a stuffed wolf, and copy of his favorite nature documentary about rabbits.
I was generous with my own gifts as well. A new leather jacket, a set of silver daggers from a little shop I found while exploring the city, and a new case for my camera. I thought about buying a car and went as far as researching them. But when it came to it I hesitated to spend the money on myself. Plus I thought of the practical things. Parking was a bitch in London and paying extra insurance for a car I would only drive once or twice a week did not seem practical. I have my bike and the tube. If I need a car I can borrow Nia’s. She grumbles about it but never hesitates to offer it when it is needed. Good woman. I hope things work out with her new man. I had Sully check him out. He is clean, no signs of anything supernatural either. Sam is happy too. I still meet with him once a week to work on his training as a hunter. But I don’t think his heart is really into it. I think he will be using the information to write a book or two. Non-fiction, of course, since everyone knows monsters are not real.
I made Max jump when I laughed at that one. He had been snoring so I do not feel bad about it. We should be going to bed anyway. Hopefully his snoring won’t keep me awake tonight. Tomorrow will be another busy day.
AAK
December 8
I was right about today. It was brutal. I work well under pressure but this was insane even for me. It was my own fault, of course. I have been scheduling everything early so I could take a few days off between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. I wanted to take Max to the country to let him run around in the snow. I think he would enjoy it. There might not be rabbits to chase but I would be willing to let him chase me around in the snow. The exercise and fresh air would be good for both of us.
Mr Morgan’s prints were delivered late and the wrong size. Mrs Ferguson dropped by for an unscheduled visit and wanted to chat about the dinner party she was hosting for her husband’s family. I don’t know why she now considers me her friend but it is better than how it was before.
I needed to have the final draft of my book sent in by the end of the day too. I know Jax would give me an extension but I do not want to take advantage of our friendship. We had been able to maintain our working relationship during the hard times with Sara but barely. I can not ruin it now by being late.
By the time I was able to leave the studio I was already exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go home and have a drink. But I had to pay my respects to the dead first. I went to the graveyard and placed a stone of the grave of someone I could not save. Years had past since her death but I still do this every year. It is a reminder and a punishment. One I deserved. I know she would argue and even chastise me for my insistence on visiting her grave every year. She believed her spirit would move on after her death and there was no need to visit the husk of her body. But I long ago realized that I am doing this for me more than I am for her. I feel guilt, she feels nothing. Harsh but accurate, isn’t it? She would understand but disapprove of the idea. I need to stop writing about this now. It is making a rough day even worse.
I stopped at the Blue Post for Marco’s fish and chips and a chat with Malcolm. He is quieter than usual. I know he is seeing someone and maybe they are having problems. I did not push but offered a listening ear. Is that a thing? Or was the phrasing wrong? I offered to listen, he declined, and I went home with a bag of bones Marco had saved for Max. My dog has a way of charming anyone who spends time with him. I put half the bones in the freezer for later. I do not want to spoil Max any more than he already is. Right now
Max is chewing on one of the bones while I write. When he is done we are going to take a long late night walk then go to bed and sleep for at least twelve hours. More like eight but I can hope for the best.
AAK
December 17
Adriana called this morning and asked if we could have dinner tonight. My evening was free so we agreed to meet at my flat at seven. By the time I finished with work it was already five so I was running late. I could go on about all the work I did throughout the day but no one cares and I would rather forget about it until the bills are paid. I let Max play in his garden will I showered and shaved. Dinners with Adriana are usually casual so I dressed in jeans and one of my favorite green sweaters. Jumpers, I should say, but the word seems strange to me even though I have lived here for years. To me jumpers sounds likes someone standing on top of a tall building, ready to end it all.
Damn, where did that come from? Maybe I need more coffee.
I put together a simple dinner of homemade pappardelle pasta with a basic meat ragu sauce, mozzarella and tomato salad, and crusty garlic bread. While the wine was breathing I put the plates on the table and generally tidied up the flat. Max’s toys went in the basket by the door. I knew it was of time since Max would take out every toy to show to Adriana. He was smitten with my friend and I believe the feeling is mutual. If something were to happen me I think Adriana would be willing to take Max. But I would never ask her to. The boat is too small for three cats and a rowdy dog. Caleb would be a better fit for Max. I know Caleb would let Adriana visit him.
Adriana was half an hour late and seemed distracted. Even playing with Max could not erase the small frown on her face. When I asked her what was wrong she tugged at her ear and changed the subject. I knew this meant she was uncomfortable so I changed the subject to one of my clients. I told her how the woman in question made her three sons and husband wear matching pajamas for their holiday card. Seems harmless enough, until I told her that the pajamas were covered in cats wearing santa’s hat. This brought the first genuine smile to her face and she quizzed me about it. She thought I was making it up but I crossed my heart and told her scout’s honor. It was real.
I had only been a scout for a week but she doesn’t have to know that. She seemed to relax about halfway through the meal. I could see it in the way she held her shoulders. We talked about our plans for the holidays and I told her I would be spending the day at the flat with Max. No plans to see Sara but I would go to Caleb’s later in the week. Their house would be crowded with all of his family and Theresa’s. And the small bulldog Caleb planned on giving the kids for Christmas.
I invited her over to the flat for a traditional Italian-American Christmas meal but she was not sure about what her plans would be for the day. I still don’t know why she asked to have dinner tonight. Was Laurence out of town? Or was she just feeling lonely? It doesn’t matter in the end. We enjoy her company. The evening ended after a short walk to the park and back and she promised to get in touch with me before Christmas. We hugged goodnight and she caught a cab. We went inside and I felt like I missed something important.
AAK
December 20
Today I continued with a personal holiday tradition. It isn’t one I discuss with anyone. Not Sara, Caleb, or even Adriana. I think she would appreciate what I do but the tradition is for me, not for anyone else. I remember how it felt when I left home and spent my first Christmas alone and living on the streets. How cold I was, how alone I felt, and how badly I missed all the traditions of the Kincaid Christmas celebrations. So now that I am an adult and can afford it I throw a Christmas party at the local teen homeless shelter. It isn’t fancy by any means. But there is great food and at least one gift for every resident of the shelter. Along with the gift I make sure they get a new jacket, hat, and scarf. It isn’t much but even the smallest thing can brighten a person’s mood. It is something I learned from experience. Then in April I was reminded by a grateful bakery owner. Tessa donates the food. I don’t know how she found out about the tradition but she made it her goal to give the kids a great meal that they will remember on the cold nights. I know she also donates the leftovers from the diner throughout the rest of the year. She is a good woman. Her husband isn’t bad either.
I give a cash donation to another program too. One that helps the homeless find work and places to live. It isn’t much but I try to help how I can. I wish I could say I did this when I lived in the States but I didn’t. The tradition started when I moved to London. A fresh start and new tradition. Not a bad idea, right? This year I decided to add a new element to it and honor Max at the same time. We made a donation to an animal clinic in Max’s name. The money would be put in a fund to help pay for medical bills for animals whose owners could not afford it. Animals deserve help as much as people do. Probably more since people tend to forget about the four legged creatures during the holidays. We also brought by a basket full of chew toys for the dogs and catnip filled toys for the cats. This was to honor Adriana’s cats. Stolen Goods, Scoundrel, and Eyepatch. I should have bought gifts for the more exotic animals but I had no idea what to get them. Mice? Insects? Maybe next year.
My first Christmas on the streets was lonely. I have said it before, I know. But it helps me to remember all the good things that has come my way since then. I have an extended family with Sara and Jax. Loyal friends with Caleb and Adriana. New friends with Jules and Flossy. I have a flat I love, a studio that I love going to everyday, and more than enough food and clothes to keep myself warm and full. I don’t have a special man to share it with but that will come in time. Or at least that is what I have been told more than once. Stop looking and love will find you. I don’t believe it but I would not mind being wrong in this instance. Having someone special to share the holiday with would be great.
I did steal a box of Christmas cookies that first year. Gingerbread men. And a red scarf with white stripes. I wonder what happened to it? I know I kept if for two years but after that? I lost track of it. Probably gave it to someone who needed it more. At least I would like to think so.
Max and I discussed it and we are going to make the Feast of the Seven Fishes this year. I will do all the cooking and Max will supervise. Jules will receive an invitation and it will be up to him if he wants to stop by for dinner. I asked Adriana to share my holiday feast too but I would bet she wants to spend the holiday with her tall, dark, and dangerous man. I don’t blame her. I would want to spend my holiday with a loved one if I had the chance.
AAK
December 21
Ezra was at the studio again. He was waiting for me on the sofa when I entered the studio. I don’t know how he got past the security system without setting it off. I know the system was working. I had Sully test it for me just last week. I nodded to the young man and started a pot of coffee without speaking. I could feel him watching me but I felt no sense of danger or of potential threats. The smell coming from him was different today. In addition to the honey, fennel, and peppercorn there was the faintest hint of lemon. It was a decidedly odd combination but it worked for him. It made me want to stand closer, to breath in the scent to discover its secrets. For this very reason I made sure to stay an arm's length away from Ezra. I did not trust the scent even though I found it intoxicating or maybe because I did. I placed a cup of coffee on the small table in front of the sofa then took a seat at my desk. There was ten minutes of silence before the young man spoke. He apologized for disappearing the last time he visited, explaining he was uncomfortable around strangers. I was a stranger but he seemed fine with being around me. He responded with words no man wants to hear. I am not a threat. Not to him or his family. They trusted me. I asked for more details and he changed the subject by taking a sip of the coffee and promptly spitting it out. After I cleaned up the mess I tried again and Ezra explained that his family had been watching me for months, wanting my help but unsure how to approach me with their concerns. Now it was my turn to frown. Someone had been watching me for months and I didn’t know it? I knew about Ezra and the strange rock but did not suspect any other people were involved. My mood went from curious to outraged in a matter of seconds and Ezra noticed. There was a tightens in his expression that I had not seen before. He struggled for several seconds before finally blurting out an apology. Oddly enough, I believed that he was truly sorry. When I finally spoke again I asked a question that had been on my mind since the first time I spotted him outside of the studio. Are you human?
Ezra’s answer was yes then no quickly followed by a musical laugh. I was once again reminded of the myths told about the Fae Folk and woodland fairies. There was human blood in his ancestry but distantly. As in hundreds of years ago. I didn’t think that would matter but Ezra explained that for his people a hundred years would mean his grandfather was human. This stumped me and I admit to pouring a shot of whiskey into my coffee. Ezra’s eyes lit up when he spotted the bottle but I put it back in the drawer and locked. The last thing I need was to get a teenage creature drunk and have his family come after me. If he was a teenager? Hell, he was probably older than I am if his words were true. My instinct says there were true.
He explain he was not a fairy, not fully. That he was more of an offshoot of the Fae Folk. They were being hunted by vampires because of the effect of drinking their blood had on the vampires. When a vampire drank their blood he or she would be able to walk in the daylight without even the faintest a burn. If the vampires could walk in the sunlight it could be devastating to the human population. And to the Fae whose blood they needed.
Humans, even if they didn’t believe in vampires, had an instinctive fear of the creatures of the night and avoided the dead of night when vampires liked to feed. If a vampire could approach a human in the middle of the day the human’s instincts would fail to warn them of the danger. It could become a bloodbath within hours. What it would do to the Fae folk was also apparent. They would be hunted down and drained of their magical blood. What I did not know was how in the hell I would be able to help with. There was no question that I would. My hatred of vampires is second only to my revulsion at the thought of demons. Vampires need, in my opinion, to be destroyed without question. I have heard rumors the Winchesters considered a vampire a friend but I can not believe they would be so naive. They need blood and would kill anyone to get it. Plain and simple. I did not realize how much of my feelings I had expressed without words. But Ezra was able to tell from my expression that I would be willing to go against the vampires. It was not so much as siding with the Fae as it was siding against the vampires. A vampire attack led to me becoming a hunter, it destroyed my friendship with John Watson, and making them pay seemed like a good idea at the time. I might regret it later but I asked Ezra what I could do to help.
Every instinct I had screamed at me after hearing his idea. It could be nothing but a trap my mind screamed at me, warning me to ignore Ezra’s plea for help. Danger Will Robinson. I can picture the robot yelling at me just like it did at the impulsive kid on an alien planet. But it didn’t stop me from working out plans with the young man. Except he was not young. He was older than me by about forty years. But looked twenty years younger. Good genes or magic? Either way I made my choice that day. On December 31 I will be going with Ezra into his realm, leaving behind Max and everyone else I know. If it works out as we planned I will be back before a week passes in our time. If not, I could be stuck there until the following New Year’s Eve.
I will talk to Adriana before I go and tell her I am off for a business trip. She does not know about the hunting and it is safer to keep it that way. Caleb will have to be told the truth since he is keeping Max for me. Sara and Jax will be told so they can look after my business interests in case something goes wrong while I am off with Ezra. Jax has a copy of my will and knows exactly what should happen if I fail to appear within a year and a day of my disappearance. It seems an odd arrangement but it is well thought out and all the details are covered. I had two lawyers check out the details to make sure everything is legal.
There are other details I will need to work out. For the hunt, not what comes after. I need to find the right sword and then a combination of herbs and spices that Ezra provided. I am not familiar with all of them but I know the right person to ask. I also need the right clothes and supplies. Food could become a problem if I am not careful. Ezra says the food will be compatible with my system but the more of it I eat the more I am tied to his realm. I do not want to get stuck there forever.
I am going to include a separate letter detailing the plan and all the steps I have taken in case something does go wrong. This entry has gone on for days and I do need to get some sleep. The letter will be kept with Gideon’s skull and my photograph of Daniel. If anyone reads this they will know where to find it.
AAK
December 24
It’s Christmas Eve and Max is excited. Not because of the holiday but because of all the food. I have been cooking all day. Feast of the Fishes will be served tonight at the Kincaid household. It’s traditional Italian-American menu with a twist. To start I made a lemony smoked trout dip with crispy Vermentino bread. It’s best to start out the meal with something light yet salty. Nothing too heavy since there are six more courses to serve. The second course is a cold salad with pan seared squid and lemon aioli. I could eat the sauce all by myself so I put it away so there would be some for my guests. The third course breaks with tradition slightly since I am not making a hearty soup. Instead it is a lobster pot pie with a golden brown crispy crust.
Pasta has to be the next course. I finally settled on a simple homemade spaghetti with clam sauce. I’m going to add a bit of peperoncini to spice it up a bit. Serve it with a hearty white wine and it should be perfection. I’ve spent a small fortune on wine for this meal along with all of the ingredients. I’m hoping everyone will show up on time.
A seafood stew is next on the menu. Spicy sausage is added to give it my own twist. The next course is one of the two courses that I did not make from scratch. Limoncello gelato to clean the palate The last course came from my favorite Italian bakery. Who doesn’t love cannoli? Serve it with freshly ground and brewed coffee and it will be heavenly. I hope.
The table is set for eight. I had to borrow a few chairs from Mrs Rhee and it only cost me thirty minutes of listening to the latest neighborhood gossip. How does she know what Mr Reed paid for his wife’s Christmas gift? Does she secretly work for some shadow government agency? It would not surprise me at all. She is the best detective I know. Sherlock Holmes would have competition, I think, if she ever decided to go into business.
I will keep you updated. Right now I need to shave and shower. I can’t greet my guests in a pair of holy jeans and faded Lynard Skynyrd T shirt I “borrowed” from someone years ago. I turned down the music I had been listening and singing to so Max could enjoy his afternoon nap on the sofa in peace and quiet. I need to take him out for a walk before my guests arrive too. Added to my list of things to do.
It struck me during our afternoon walk that some of my guests might not like seafood. I stood still in the middle of the park until Max turned around to look at me and barked once to get my attention. I absent-mindedly apologized to my dog and started walking again. I was mentally going over the contents of my fridge and trying to find something suitable for a non-fish eater. I had the stuff to make stuffed peppers and the colors would add a nice contrast to the other dishes. With the decision made I was able to relax and enjoy the walk with Max.
This time I turned on something more upbeat as I prepared the last minute addition to the menu. Max was sitting in the middle of the kitchen and waiting for me to “accidentally” drop something for him to snack on. As any good friend would I gave him a sample of the night’s feast. His tail showed his excitement and the way the food disappeared showed his approval for the taste. Half an hour before my guests were supposed to arrive I double checked the seating and the dish placement. It looked good enough to photograph. Don’t tell anyone but I did take a few pictures of it.
Then I got dressed in a pair of black jeans and a comfortable sweater made of light grey cashmere with the faintest trace of violet threads. It was not something I would have bought for myself but it had been a gift from a friend. Now there is nothing to do but to wait for my guests to arrive.
Adriana and Laurance.
Jules (and Flossy)
Will and Tessa
Caleb and Theresa
Mr M (I left a note for him on his door. If he shows I would be surprised.)
December 25
Christmas day finally arrived. Max and I skipped the five mile run and settled for only two miles. I will need to pick up the pace again later but I want to enjoy my holiday even if I am spending it alone with Max. When we got back to the flat I had a plate full of leftovers from the Feast of the Seven Fishes while Max ate his own mixture of dog food. I gave him some of the leftover bread as a treat. Not much of it since the garlic might upset his stomach. The last thing I want to do is make an emergency trip to the vet. Max likes him but I don’t like to see the bill or to see Max suffer. After breakfast we are going open presents. I hope Max likes his gifts.
10.20
Max gave me a fantastic book on photography and a new pair of shoes along with the promise not to chew on them. I am going to trust him to keep his word this time. He is honest about everything except for his shoe obsession. But everyone has a weakness. Mine is for food and a great bottle of wine. Lemon tarts could reasonably be added to that list. There was a painting from Aiden with a simple black frame. It looks vaguely like Chewbacca. I plan on hanging it on the wall of my office next to his first portrait. The curly hair haired moppet is still one of my favorite photographs. Simple, casual, and perfectly captures Aiden’s charm. There is a picture of Riley too, of course. She is a quieter personality, more serious but just a lovable. Sara sent three gifts. A box set of the Lord of RIngs, a doctor’s phone number, and a new supply of herbal remedies and charms. Grown by her and hand made. Jax’s gift was a leather jacket with a black lining. Probably cost more than I made in one month at my first job. Maybe two months. I loved it instantly. I wore it while I opened the gifts I had bought myself. Then it was too hot and I carefully hung it by the front door.
There were gifts from Adriana but I would open those later when she stopped by to pick up hers. Both of them. One is a photograph of her boat, the Galene. The other is less serious. A set of bakeware along with a certificate for another course of baking class.
Caleb’s kids sent Max a large box of treats and me a box of cannoli that they helped their mother make and decorate. I shared a purple sprinkle covered one with Max. He was impressed with it, I think.
I forgot to mention how dinner went on Christmas Eve. It was awkward at first as I attempted to meld both parts of my life together. But after the first two courses and a couple of bottles of wine everyone relaxed enough to enjoy the meal. Max and Flossy spent most of the time in his garden. Both were content to be with each other. They also knew better than to beg at the table. I would consider it a success. Mr M did not show up for dinner but I realized it was for the best. It would have meant I would be paired up with him or Jules. I am familiar enough with Jules and he with me that we were able to deal with the situation comfortably. He knew it was not a date and so did I. It was a dinner with friends, great food, good wine, and relaxing conversation.
It is also something I never expect to have.
AAK
December 25 Part Two
I realized in the middle of the night that I had hosted a dinner party just like my damn parents. Except people laughed and enjoyed themselves at mine. It wasn’t just business for me.
AAK
December 30
Feel like my soul has
Turned into steel
I’ve still got the scars
That the sun didn’t heal.
Sometimes my burden
Is more than I can bare
It’s not dark yet
But it’s getting there.
Every nerve in my body
Is so naked and numb
I can’t even remember what it was
I came here to get away from.
Dylan.
That song described the Kincaid who arrived in London years ago. Am I the same man now? I don’t know. I can smile more now. At first smiling was something I forced, laughter was something I barely remembered. When I laughed it seemed brittle, hollow. The idea of telling a joke seemed as foreign to me as the idea that one day I would travel to Mars or own my own golden dragon. (I still want a dragon but maybe a fire lizard would be better?)
Part of me was dead when I moved here. Another part only wanted to live long enough to see Gideon punished for the damage he did to my family and to Sara’s. The need for revenge kept me alive the first few years. Then I slowly started to smile again. Real smiles, not the fake ones I use to charm someone for information or to get out of trouble. I believe Max had something to do with it. Being loved unconditionally and returning that love helped heal me. Christ, now I am starting to sound like Sara. But in this case she is right. But I will never tell her. Max’s playfulness and love brought out a side of me I barely remembered. But I was young and eager once but that was more years ago than I care to admit even to my journal.
John Watson helped too. His kindness and willingness to trust was exactly what I needed at the time. I, unfortunately, thought it meant more than it was. But I can see clearly now that it was his friendship I needed at the time, not romance. Agatha helped. Red helped. But it was mostly Max.
Starting the studio gave me confidence and helped erase the words of my father saying I would never be a success without him. Publishing a series of books enforced that idea even more. The petty part of me wants to tell him of my success but why give him the chance to claim it was all his teachings that helped me. Why give him the opportunity to claim all the credit my own hard work deserved? Fuck him. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.
Making a home of my flat was another step in my healing process. For years I traveled with only my camera and my trusty Sheila. Now I have a home. Furniture I picked out, walls that I painted with my own hands, sheets that have never belonged to anyone but me. A kitchen that would be the envy of several chefs that I know. Even a garden for my dog. I guess the whole point of this long winded entry is that I am no longer the same man that moved here years ago. The sun has shined and the scars have started to heal. I can remember what I moved here to forget and have dealt with the ghosts from the past. Most of them, anyway.
I still have the scars Gideon left on my body and soul. But during the daylight I can find ways to forget about them. Royale would say I am on my way to truly healing. Maybe this will be the last year I need to keep a journal. I should talk to her about it the next time we talk. We have been able to reach a truce about what she helped Sara to do to my mind. It is easier to forgive her since I never considered her family, a sister. Royale was my doctor then later became a friend. Someday I might be able to fully forgive her for everything but for now the truce is holding in place.
See what happens when I drink too much red wine and I am at home alone? I get mushy and emotional without the embarrassment of others having to be a witness to it. Max sees it but I trust him to never tell anyone. Not even Flossy. If they were talking to us, I mean. They still send the occasional text but it isn’t the same. Wish I could invent a time turner but I will never be smart enough for something like that. I think they only exist in the Harry Potter universe anyway. Maybe I could call out for the Doctor and use the Tardis.
Max just growled at me for waking him up with my laughter. I am going to take that as a sign to put down the wine glass and the pen. It is time to go to bed. My head will hate me for this tomorrow. Not for writing, for the wine. I will hate myself for spilling my guts all over the pages later. Not literally. I am not suicidal, just a bit drunk.
AAK
December 31
Tonight is the night I meet with Ezra. I have left letters for my friends and for my lawyers in case something goes wrong. Caleb and I came to blows when I explained the plan. He throws a mean right hook and I made no attempt to block it. I owed him that much. He suggested going with me and it was my turn to argue. There is no way I would allow him to risk his life and desert his children to help me. I would never forgive myself if something happened to him under my watch. Besides that Theresa would kill me. She’s a nurse. I know she would be capable of making me suffer first.
Sara had a few choice words as well. She even threatened to fly out here to stop me but Jax talked her out of it. He was able to explain to her better than I could why it would be a bad idea. Or he used the same ideas but different tactics? By the end of the day she agreed that coming to London was not a good idea. But she did send me a care package of items I might need for the job. When I opened it I had to laugh. She had included a small package of goo goo clusters It brought me back to our first meeting in Monroe. I ate both pieces standing there going through the box of supplies. I wasn’t sure what some of them would be used for but if Sara suggested them I would take them with me. We have problems but there is no one I would trust more with herbs and charms.
Adriana took me at my word and wished me luck on my business trip. I hope I come back to see her again. She is a good friend and Max loves her too. I’m not going to see her today. It would be too hard to look her in the eye and lie to her again. Someday I will have to tell her the truth about what I do. I know she suspects something.
So my bag is packed and Max is with Caleb and his family. I will meet with Ezra in two hours. You know what I would like to do right now? I would like to see if Mr M is any good in bed. One last tumble before I die. Daniel Craig isn’t available so I’m going to pick Mr M.
I am going next door to see him. If he is interested then this will be the last journal entry of the year. If not? It will still be my last one. If I make it back I will burn this one as is my tradition. Then start a new one on the first of next year. I have one ready and it is sitting next to Gideon’s skull.
I killed a young woman today. Mid-thirties, trim build, red hair.
I cut her throat with one quick movement and watched as blood ran down her chest. Did I feel guilt? No. Sorrow? Yes, but not for me. For her. For who she used to be before the monster took control. The demon who possessed her had destroyed her soul long before I cut her throat. It is one of the many reasons that cause me to hate demons more than any other supernatural creature. The take control of the human body and leave the soul behind to witness the horrors. Murder, mutilation, manipulation.
How do I come to terms with killing someone? I do not. Not completely. But I have learned to disassociate myself from my actions. My actions as a hunter are separate from my life as Adam Kincaid. I keep enough of Hunter in my life to protect myself and others when I’m off the job. I can not allow Kincaid to be vulnerable.
There are times I feel like I have more than one personality. One for the hunter and one for the photographer. But it isn’t as simple as that. The two Kincaid’s coexist and even work together when they have to. But the hunter Kincaid also protects photographer Kincaid. Shields him from ugliness of the hunts, keeps him safe from the dangers that he faces in everyday life.
Christ, I sound insane. No one can ever read this without thinking I am nuts. I need a cup of coffee and a shower.
I have lost track of the multiple lies I have told in the last three days. Lies of omission. Lies meant to deceive. More than one lie told to protect the people I care about. Would they forgive me if they knew how often I lie to them? I wouldn’t. I hate to be deceived. Maybe it’s because I have to lie so often? Could it be the reason I hate to be lied to?
I am sitting here writing about deception while drinking a cold cup of coffee. I need a refill of fresh coffee and a change of subject, I think. No. I know I need fresh coffee. The subject will still be here when I get back from the kitchen. Unfortunately so.
Deception comes easy to me these days. I have been doing it for so long it has become second nature to me. I started lying shortly before my seventeenth birthday. When I left home. I have even started to believe the lies myself. I am an ordinary photographer, a business owner, and a proud pet owner. Nothing else.
Except that it a lie.
Some people hide behind the mask of the ordinary. Appearing to be ordinary is the best camouflage, no one notices the common man. It's a lesson that has served me well in personal and professional life.
It reminds me of a poem I read somewhere. I don’t remember all of it but it went something like this: Faces shown to friends and lovers see closer but never discover the person only I see.
That is the lesson I learned on my first solo hunt over seventeen years ago. I killed a Rugaru by burning him alive in an abandoned farmhouse in Nebraska. He was a perfectly ordinary looking man until his skin started to change when the hunger for human flesh overtook him. HIs eyes went black and matched the veins starting to run up the side of his neck.
Even the name he was using at the time was unremarkable. David Maxwell. No one would have guessed he was responsible for death of three men. But I did. There were clues if you knew where to look. JAnd I played udge, jury, and executioner.
After a day of observation I made the decision he had to die. If he had shown any sign of remorse or regret I might have gone easier on him when I killed him His death costs me two broken fingers on my left hand, three cracked ribs, and the first scar I earned since becoming a hunter. How many more have I earned? I lost count years ago.
Another lie. I know exactly how many scars I have. I could tell you the story of each and everyone of them.
It also taught me to hide in plain sight. A useful skill that has served me well over the years. Even the photograph I took of the burning building is deceptively ordinary. It seems to be nothing more than a snapshot of an old farmhouse at the end of its life. In truth it is a trophy of sorts. Documentation of the monster’s death. Of vengeance for the dead.
I am an ordinary man who is also a killer, thief, and liar.
Another poem comes to mind:
Of Myself
I have become a prisoner
Who
For all the struggle mounted against
The walls of my existence
Will never be free
For not only am I the prisoner
I am the guard.
I wish I could remember who wrote it. Or where I read it.
Today I continued with a personal holiday tradition. It isn’t one I discuss with anyone. Not Sara, Caleb, or even Adriana. I think she would appreciate what I do but the tradition is for me, not for anyone else. I remember how it felt when I left home and spent my first Christmas alone and living on the streets. How cold I was, how alone I felt, and how badly I missed all the traditions of the Kincaid Christmas celebrations. So now that I am an adult and can afford it I throw a Christmas party at the local teen homeless shelter. It isn’t fancy by any means. But there is great food and at least one gift for every resident of the shelter. Along with the gift I make sure they get a new jacket, hat, and scarf. It isn’t much but even the smallest thing can brighten a person’s mood. It is something I learned from experience. Then in April I was reminded by a grateful bakery owner. Tessa donates the food. I don’t know how she found out about the tradition but she made it her goal to give the kids a great meal that they will remember on the cold nights. I know she also donates the leftovers from the diner though out the rest of the year. She is a good woman. Her husband isn’t bad either.
I give a cash donation to another program too. One that helps the homeless find work and places to live. It isn’t much but I try to help how I can. I wish I could say I did this when I lived in the States but I didn’t. The tradition started when I moved to London. A fresh start and new tradition. Not a bad idea, right? This year I decided to add a new element to it and honor Max at the same time. We made a donation to an animal clinic in Max’s name. The money would be put in a fund to help pay for medical bills for animals whose owners could not afford it. Animals deserve help as much as people do. Probably more since people tend to forget about the four legged creatures during the holidays. We also brought by a basket full of chew toys for the dogs and catnip filled toys for the cats. This was to honor Adriana’s cats. Stolen Goods, Scoundrel, and Eyepatch. I should have bought gifts for the more exotic animals but I had no idea what to get them. Mice? Insects? Maybe next year.
My first Christmas on the streets was lonely. I have said it before, I know. But it helps me to remember all the good things that has come my way since then. I have an extended family with Sara and Jax. Loyal friends with Caleb and Adriana. New friends with Jules and Flossy. I have a flat I love, a studio that I love going to everyday, and more than enough food and clothes to keep myself warm and full. I don’t have a special man to share it with but that will come in time. Or at least that is what I have been told more than once. Stop looking and love will find you. I don’t believe it but I would not mind being wrong in this instance. Having someone special to share the holiday with would be great.
I did steal a box of Christmas cookies that first year. Gingerbread men. And a red scarf with white stripes. I wonder what happened to it? I know I kept if for two years but after that? I lost track of it. Probably gave it to someone who needed it more. At least I would like to think so.
Max and I discussed it and we are going to make the Feast of the Seven Fishes this year. I will do all the cooking and Max will supervise. Jules will receive an invitation and it will be up to him if he wants to stop by for dinner. I asked Adriana to share my holiday feast too but I would bet she wants to spend the holiday with her tall, dark, and dangerous man. I don’t blame her. I would want to spend my holiday with a loved one if I had the chance.
I take it for granted now. Eating homemade meals with fresh ingredients. Ripe tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, freshly chopped basil, and homemade pasta covered with grated parmesan reggiano. Meals with flavor with an aroma delicious enough to make your mouth water. The tangy bite of citrus in a perfectly made lemon tart. Throw in a bottle of wine and I am a happy man. On the surface.
I am the same way with my clothes. Not my hunting clothes. Those are in a different category altogether. I am talking about my business clothes. Spending three hundred dollars on a pair of shoes once seemed to be an extravagance and a foolish one at that. Now I have three pair that I keep at the top of my closet to keep Max from eating them. I have a tuxedo and suits. I could wear a suit every day of the week without repeating one. They are tailored by a very strange man who lives near Baker Street. Christ, if i am not careful I will have as many suits as my father.
Ironic, isn’t it? The last thing I want is to turn into my father yet I seem to have inherited his love of good suits. And expensive shoes. I already have his fondness for a good glass of Scotch.
Once upon a time I was a homeless, broke, hungry, and scared kid from a small town with no idea how to protect myself or how to survive on my own.. Now I live comfortably in a two bedroom flat in London and I own my own business.. Did I ever think it would be possible? No, is the easy answer. Yes would be accurate to an extent that I knew I would not stay on the streets forever. What did I think I would do? Cooking. It was the one useful skill I had besides stealing. Cooking a meal for someone is legal, picking his pocket might get you sent to jail. If you get caught. I did get caught once. Officer Barbara Penrose. No relation to the cop I met in London. Rupert Penrose who told me I could call him Roo. I declined that offer. It reminded me too much of the kangaroo from Winnie the Pooh.
I would you bet you that he thought I was feeding him a line when I told him the story about my Penrose experience. I wasn’t. Why would I? I had been interested in a possible friendship, not a con job. It still bothers me to this day. I do have pride after all.
Officer Barbara Penrose was an amazon of a woman. As tall as me, strong, with beautiful dark skin and eyes that offered a hint of pity when she looked at me. She knew, and so did I, that I would spend some time at juvy for my offense. She was there to pick me up when I was released from juvy three months later. She took me home with her and feed me dinner alongside her own sons. I could tell it was not the first time their mom had brought home a stray. Human or otherwise. Her boys had a strange collection of pets. Dogs, cats, lizard, and a pigeon. Why would anyone want a rat with wings? They are a menace. And they carried nasty diseases on top of that.
I never forgot her kindness. Or the arrest. I made sure I would never be caught again.
What does this have to do with me now? Nothing. I just wanted to tell the story without anyone hearing it. Without anyone judging it.
I could tell by the way the kid was standing he had something to hide. The tight-lipped smile, hands in the pockets of his torn blue jeans, and the way he would look down and then away. I don’t know why he approached me outside of the studio. Was it for a job? An offer for a quickie in exchange for cash? If so why would he look so secretive. I wanted to see if he was one of the supernatural but he would move away every time I moved closer to him. That would rule out the offer for sex or drugs, wouldn’t it?
I would be able to recognize him again if he approaches me again. If couldn’t I would be a failure as both a hunter and as a photographer. Besides, there was something about him that made him memorable. It was not his looks. He was average in height and on the skinny side with shaggy dark hair. Blue eyes behind a pair of hipster glasses. A t shirt but no jacket, a hat but no socks. The quality of his clothes showed that money had not been a problem at one point in his life.
He never said a word to me but we stood staring at each other for several minutes before he walked away. No, not walked, bounded. It struck me then that I wish Max had been with me. I trust his instincts and something was telling me this kid was not what he appeared to be.
The smell is the other thing I remember about him. It was a mix of freshly ground peppercorns, fennel, and oddly enough honey. With the faintest scent of cigar smoke. I don’t think the smoke was part of his natural scent. Do not ask me why because it is nothing more than a gut feeling. But I have learned to listen to my feelings. And in this case, my nose. It told me there was something unusual about him. Was he even human?
It might be time to dig out Mike’s journals. See if there is any mention of creatures who ensnare their victims by using pheromones.
10.27
Reading Mike’s old journals really took me back. I think that is how the saying goes anyway. It brought back so many memories of Mike and all the training he put me through all those years ago. He was a hard ass with training but a soft touch when it came to other things. There was not a homeless person he could pass without handing him or her a handful of cash, a stray cat he would not feed, or lost teenage boy he would not save from a vampire attack. That is how he found me. I owe it to others now to save who I can, when I can. But the kid I mentioned earlier? I am not sure he wanted or needed to be saved. Maybe I will need saving from him?
I didn’t find any information that helped. It might be time to talk to Abraham. He is older than the dinosaurs and knew more about monsters than anyone else I know. I will have to bite the bullet tomorrow and give the cranky bastard a call.
Every hunter I know has a tragic backstory. No one in their right mind would give up the joys of a normal life and live the life of a nomad hunting creatures that ninety-nine percent of the population does not believe in. My own story is not as interesting as others nor as tragic. At least not until Gideon showed up in my life. The start of my life was a simple story of an odd child desperately looking for love from his family. Then it moved on to a young man standing his ground and leaving behind the ones who could, would never accept him for what he was. The next three years tell a story of survival and hard lessons learned. At nineteen the true purpose of my life was found and I focused almost all of my attention on it until the death murder of my brother Daniel. Those years would be considered tragic but now? Now my life is good. The only tragedy in my life is the stuff I let into it. Not exactly a tragic backstory now, I know. But I do have to deal with the tragedy in other’s lives.
Take the story of McKenzie Jones. A twenty-seven year old hunter with brilliant green eyes, shiny black hair and porcelain skin free of any blemishes. She was a curvy woman of five foot six inches. I am not writing all of this down because I have a sexual interest in her, far from it. But as a reminder of someone who seemed to have it all going for them then in a moment of heartbreak becomes an example of tragic consequences of reckless and vengeful actions. She came from a family of hunters. Her great great grandmother the one starting the family tradition after the death of her youngest son at the hands of a woman in white. She spent years researching and training before finally killing the murderous spirit.
Mac was different. She became a hunter out of family obligation, out of dedication to the traditions her ancestors started. She was not motivated out of hate for the first twenty six years of her life. It was a demon that changed that for her. Mac was to be married to Devon Mcallister and was already expecting their first child when everything changed for her. The demon responsible was no mere red eyed demon, no, it was one of the white eyed ones who destroy someone who is destined to greatness. (That isn’t the word exactly but it is close enough for now. I don’t want to get obsessed with finding the right word and forget about the story I am trying to tell.) The demon, who uses a symbol instead of a name, killed Devon. Not cleanly or simply. But brutally and bloody. When Mac found out she went into shock then three days later gave birth to a stillborn daughter. She was named Devon Rose and was buried next to her father.
By that afternoon Mac had made a deal with a red-eyed demon. This one had taken the body of a short,stout, grey-haired man of about sixty years of age. If she would do a simple task for him the demon would give her the name of the white-eyed demon who killed her husband to be. And where she could find him. Ten deaths for one name? To Mac the deal was something she could live with for a while. She intended to die after she took her revenge. If ten others had to die for her to achieve it? She could live with it.
Would I have made the same kind of deal to find Daniel’s killer? I don’t know.
She killed four hunters before I managed to track her down in Scotland. The first was strangled and branded in Ireland. The second, also in Ireland, had been branded and decapitated. The third left with a carved stake through his heart, the brand left on his forehead. The fourth still surprises me. The brutal way she was killed and left for her young children to find. Mac inspired a new set of hunters that day, unfortunately. But they might turn out to hunt the hunters. I will need to keep an eye on those boys. If I don’t there could be problems later.
It was the brands that helped me catch up with Mac. When I did she had changed. Her hair was greasy and hanging limply down her back. The once bright green eyes had dulled to a cold, dead emerald gaze. The only sign of emotion I found in her eyes was a hint of relieved madness. She didn’t fight me or even attempt to run. Mac was not the type to beg either. She sat there calmly, surrounded by trees, explaining why she did what she did to the other hunters. It was clear that some of the madness of vengeance had left her system but she felt compelled to follow through with the pact. It was the only thing keeping her alive at the time. She needed to avenge Devon before she could die. I knew and I think part of her did too that I could not let her continue with the revenge quest. Going to prison would serve no purpose. The demon would get her out so she could complete the assigned task. Death was the only option. I gave her the choice of how she wanted to die. By her own hand or by mine. I thought she would choose to die by her own hand but she surprised me. She could not end her life until the demon was dead but she also did not want to go on killing. She had one request of me and it was one I could grant without a moment of hesitation. When the time came I ended her life quickly and as painlessly as possible. Then took her body home and had her buried next to her two Devons. The people she loved most. It was her last wish. I stood there with her remaining family and grieved along with them. For the loss of her life and the possibilities denied to her. For the loss of four hunters and their families.
Abraham had passed along a letter to me and it finally arrived today. It was from Mac’s oldest brother Dylan. He wanted me to know they had taken the two young sons of the hunter Mac had killed. Their way of atoning for her sins, I assume. But one I was grateful to hear about. They were still searching for the demon who was originally responsible for the madness but had no luck so far. They asked that I keep them updated since they knew I would be working the case too. They were right. I am not going to stop until I find the white-eyed demon but I am not going to let it control me like it did with Mac. I have worked to hard to get where I am to give up everything for revenge. Unless it was for Sara or Aiden. Then I would leave everything behind in a heartbeat. Family has nothing to do with blood in this case. It has everything to do with what is in my heart.
I sent a letter to Dylan thanking him for the information and asking him to keep me updated. If he needed anything he could count on me to be there. I included my cell-phone number so it would be easier for him to reach me. A letter could take too much time to reach me if it was an emergency.
It took me over a week to come up with a list of names for my new puppy. I would call him a different name every day in an effort to find the one that suited him.. I am lucky he does not have problems with multiple personalities. I took notes of the pup’s characteristics to see if any of the names fit him perfectly. Right away I knew Bones wouldn’t do. My dog did not have a cranky bone in his body. Bowie did not fit either. He wasn’t outrageous enough for the name. He was as smart as Alton and chewing on my new shoes ruled out the name Gabriel. Destroying a three hundred dollar pair of shoes was less than angelic.
By the end of the week it was a toss up between Dresden and Maxwell. Dresden would work on two levels. The name would represent my hunter side and remind me of one of my favorite book series. The wizard is a badass who still manages to be awkward at times. This struck a familiar chord with me.
After Agatha asked me his name for the fifteenth time I wrote both of the names on a slip of paper and picked the name out of a hat. I picked Dresden first then tossed it back in the hat. Why? The name wasn’t perfect. Then selected the slip with the name Maxwell and repeated the process three damn times before giving up in frustration. My dog would have three names.
And that is how Maxwell Dresden Kincaid was named.
And after all of that no one calls him anything but Max.
AAK
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