walk with me through the shifting sands
of centuries, rolling in a constant ebb and flow.
time, itself, irrelevant except to burn the twilight
with the light of day, but in the night…

… in the night, you and i are gods.

strolling through the cavalcade of humanity,
hand in hand with the world around us
a place and time to be recorded in
memories yet being penned, to be penned…

… forever, lover… page after page in our story.

dancing with you, arms wrapped tight around
the one thing i shall ever want or need.
feeling you close to me, breathless moments
with lips brushing against lips, closing eyes…

… to kiss you. rob my breath and take my life.

i beg you. yours, each day, yours to capture
completed are we, two pieces of a puzzle,
sewn together into a tapestry.
yours, unending symphony, enthralled by you…

… immortal lover mine, my soul’s delight.

walk with me through passing scenery
and fill us both with the enchantment
i can only find in you. walk with me and i
shall be by your side, come what may…

… your eternal companion…

… your poet, bound and true…

… a constant star inside the night sky
we possess and claim as our own
through shifting sands and rising tides
now, lover, and forevermore.

the poet etches words onto a paper
indelible words, with indelible sentiments
spoken in the deepest portions of the
deepest channels within a river running
through the very soul.

what could be said more than the
languages invented by men?
fickle, the sentences, often written
to lay the foundation of houses built on sand.
i watched the tide come in once.
it swept away the firmament.

tell me what conveys truth deeper
than these falllible tools?

would droplets of blood upon a canvas
do the work of a hundred sorcerers
casting a hundred spells to make these
small and simple phrases
lift from the page and bleed into the
cracks and fissures of your heart?

would the whispers of angels
in the ears of gods on thrones above
lace the ink spilled on the parchment
with such magic, the truth could not
be spoken any more sincere?

bound to the earth, i am.

the spells and whispers, the drops of blood,
all of these things yet find their footing
on those castles made of clay
laid down by servants of the master of deceit.

the written word, the double-edged sword,
slices through the marrow, but not often
to mend or bring the peace which
simply knowing often brings.

instead the truth resides within
not the tools… not the pen and ink before me,
but within the soul of he who writes them.
the heart of he whose fingertips
hold the instrument within their grip.

the poet speaks his very life
within the shaky breath and the
weak knees, the tears and soft caresses,
imparted one upon the other.
love, like a river flowing,
soul to soul and heart to heart.

such is the cadence of words
presented with hands outstretched before you.
let eyes meet eyes and hands meet hands
and therein lies the truth.

all i ever wanted,
lover mine,
the feel of your breath
on my skin, the shivers,
the tingles, running up
and down my spine
as though bolts of
electicity, attempting to
restart a stilled heart
with your touch.

all i ever needed,
my eternal maestro,
the feel of your arms
wrapped around me
presence so close,
a whisper passing
between us within the
still of night, so blessed.
kiss me again and
dance with me in dreams.

and i shall find you
in the spaces in-between
and i shall find you
in the moments spaced
like breadcrumbs leading
me back to your heart.
keep me locked there
so i can be free,
keep me immersed there
so i can drown in you.

all i ever longed for
my fallen angel,
the sense of completion
the quiet, the tranquility,
a mind at rest and a
body settled against
mine, i kiss you
once more and pray
to whatever gods listen
to keep us this way forever.

i gaze into the portal of self
whenever i am close to you, my lover.
you lead me to the doorway and
invite me into the corridors of truth.

such volumes; so many stories of
the way things were and the way
things could be. i look to the future
and think of chapters yet to come.

so many winding, twisting paths,
how much i wish my young heart
were a trifle older so i could say
i shared those experiences with you.

but there are words yet to be written,
ideas yet to be penned and
symphonies yet to be composed
by the skilled hands which lead me onward.

there are dreams yet to be dreamt
and lives yet to be acted out
on life’s grand stage; shall we
play our parts, oh maestro mine?

speak with me and i shall
speak with you. share your thoughts
with me and i promise to be the
open book you plumb eternally.

so many things await inside a
future yet to be determined.
tell me of your past, my lover
and we shall forge our future together.

stilled breaths settle in the air between us
as silent hearts beat forth a steady cadence,
hanging from the precipice, taking the plunge
falling to the depths, i come alive.

kiss my lips again and tell me
all your sacred secrets.

tell me your thoughts, lover, while i inquire
on the matters of soul to soul,
how two beings can be so tightly woven
into such a work of art as we.

touch my face and tell me
who you are inside.

reveal to me the things which tempt me
ascending to the heights, 
my want, my need, my symphony,
arm in arm, we sing of one accord.

come to me and we shall
dance under the moonlight.

i catch my breath, as though the need to
breathe consumes my very core.
i bite my tongue to taste the blood and
sense you in the crimson flow.

eternal one, my heart soars and my
knees bend in admiration of you.
take my hand and sink with me in passion,
my maestro, lover mine,
my fire and ice forever more.

Celeste,

I am going to disappoint you with this. I just know it.

As I sit here at my desk, writing out this letter, I do not know what the future will bring. I realize all of the ramifications of telling you what I am about to tell you, but we have come to the crossroads of inevitability and I have to make a decision now. I knew the day would come when the assassin forced my hand and the day has visited itself upon us with all the gloom of a dark harbinger.

Celeste… Celeste… I am going to disappoint you, I just know it.

My hands are shaky as I attempt to type this out to you, because I can see you already, standing there with this cold, impersonal piece of paper your only source of comfort, nothing to shield you against the words they contain. I know how much you love Flynn and how much you mean to him as well, but things have finally come to a head. His behavior the other day, out on the veranda, has proved to me I cannot trust him with the lives of those I hold dear.

You know what happened, because you were there, watching it in horror as the events transpired. After telling Flynn repeatedly to keep his hands off Victor, I brought Flynn to the surface, only for him to turn the tables on me and use this as an excuse for an attack. I can only thank the Fates he did not have a blade on hand and that Victor was able to subdue him. Still, I know his thoughts because I had to listen to them. He wanted Victor’s death. I cannot allow this to happen. I am only sorry because I know this will disappoint you, but do not apologize for protecting somebody I love.

So, this marks the end of the assassin. I am locking him away in the deepest box with the tightest locks and forgetting his name if I have to. He will not be allowed out to the surface. He will not be allowed to exist any longer. Please understand all this, Celeste. Losing Victor would have devastated me, especially if it was by my own hand. Let Flynn find his own body if he wants to come out. He is now restricted from using mine.

I wish I could let you say goodbye, but I am afraid I cannot even risk that much.

My apologies for doing this to you. I love you.
Peter

hold me while i rest, my love
teach me tender words and lullabies
sung from your lips as, in your arms
i find my refuge in the storm.

cling tight to me, and me to you.
spilling secrets deeper than the
darkest corners of my soul,
i lie myself upon your feet
and beg of you to claim
what you find before you.

i love you; i love you.
darling beloved,
i adore you and i need you.
i want you; i want you.
ever present beside me
in each day which passes,
in each month and year,
be near me and hold me.

teach me tender words and gift me
with the solace of a soul mate
in your presence.
i need you; how i need you.
and shall forever more, my love.

Four Years Later
————————–
“Autumn to winter,
winter into spring,
Spring into summer,
summer into fall,–
So rolls the changing year,
and so we change;
Motion so swift,
we know not that we move.”
- Dinah Maria Mulock

Chapter Nine

Only The Fates knew how much I hated when people kept me waiting.

My fingers turned an unlit cigarette around several times before raising it to my mouth and inserting it between my lips. I dug into my coat for my lighter, flipping the top open and igniting it with one swift motion that might have impressed somebody had they been watching while I did it. The end of the cigarette glowed orange and smoke rose while I thrust my lighter back into my pocket. Blue eyes gazed through the obstruction of sunglasses and cigarette smoke, looking for my target.

I should have never allowed him to live. Each day I permitted him to continue his pitiful existence, I was risking both my neck and my reputation, possibly suggesting that the assassin might be growing soft and merciful while such was not the case. As much as I pondered this paradox myself – if holding my hand indicated a latent weakness rising to the surface – the compulsion which caused me to spare his life dispelled such myths by whispering the reasons why again.

He had ways of locating desired items that left all the seven covens in awe over his scavenging abilities. As such, when Sabrina touched my ear with her cool lips and whispered his name as my next target, I knew I had to use this moment to its fullest before the fires of hell pulled Anthony into damnation. My mistress left for New York and the window of opportunity remained opened for three days. This was the last day, however. The time had come to settle debts with a man living on borrowed time.
I drew from the cigarette again and peered through the smoke for the garishly dressed immortal who enjoyed frequenting this club. Loud music played around me and a thick crowd of mortals choked me with the stench of humanity, causing me to sneer from my position in the shadows, hopeful the vile scent of their sweat would wash off my clothing. With a sigh, I lowered my cigarette from my mouth. My eyes continued to scan the crowd while my thoughts drifted to matters of questioning my sanity once more.

Four years had passed, ticking their interminable minutes and registering one more day following the one prior until the months began to stack up. Time itself held no significance but to count one more stroke upon the wall. One more day elapsed; one more year winding to a close. Such seemed to be the unbroken melody that made up my existence, punctuated by the plethora of concerns one who called themselves an assassin could be expected to face. Robin’s forewarning that my peaceful existence as a neophyte was to perish could not have been more apropos. I sensed it as I rose each evening.

I was a shadow and, yet, I was infamous. All who gazed upon my countenance knew their time was through and nobody saw me whom I did not wish. All knew the name of Flynn, though, and the name possessed enough of a reputation to send shivers down every immortal spine within the city. I relished it, savoring even the plots formed against my life by conspirators who all met their end by my hand in time. Death saturated my life with crimson-colored decadence.

It evoked the slightest bit of unease, that I had become this monster after only five years.

“Losing your bloody edge,” I muttered, dismissing the thought of unease just as quickly as it surfaced. I knew what caused this instability within – a dream that still taunted me even after several weeks had elapsed since I woke with its images fresh in my mind. I relieved it each time I considered what placed me on my current course. The unconscious ruminations were hardly random; they formed a memory from my mortal days I had never regained. And to recall a long lost experience after five years was nothing short of a miracle. I sighed at the notion and glanced at my watch, focusing my attention on the task at hand again.

Just then, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

My head rose and my eyes changed focus. Through the crowd, I spotted him strolling across the dance floor, a stark contrast to the men and women dressed in shiny, modern material. He donned a crushed velvet suit. I rolled my eyes in response, stealing a moment to observe how often our kind indulged in the most garish fashions possible. His pale skin nearly glowing from the combination of dark clothing and strobe lights, Anthony seemed ready to add a flashing sign advertising what he was to his ensemble. The woman holding onto his arm added to the absurdity with her too-thick makeup and promiscuous attire.

Anthony kissed her hand as she slid onto a chair. Mortal woman. I stepped from the shadows and leaned against a post, drawing from my cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke large enough to give myself away. The movement and the puff of white worked its magic. Anthony turned his head, spotting me, while I shot him an impatient glare.

“Excuse me, my dear,” Anthony said to his companion. “A little business to attend to.” He winked and she watched while he nodded at me and cocked his head toward the back. I stood straight, pivoting to stroll for the door to the alleyway running behind this godforsaken establishment. Not a moment too soon. Had I been forced to wait any longer, I might have had to murder somebody.

Once outside, a rush of cold air hit me and felt reborn again. The door shut, drowning out the noise from inside, and blessed peace wrapped its soothing arms around me, stilling my disgust, if just for a moment. I strolled to the other side of the vacant street and leaned against an adjacent building, finishing my cigarette and flicking its remnant onto the pavement. No sooner did the depleted nicotine stick smash into the macadam in a display of sparks and ash did the door swing upon once more, bringing with it a painful reminder of the music and the stench from inside.

Anthony looked at me and smiled while the door clucked shut behind him. I breathed a sigh of relief as the night became still once more. “Flynn!” Anthony said, the tone of his voice making it sound as though we were long-lost friends. “I didn’t realize you were to return so shortly! You certainly don’t waste time, do you?”

“I told you two nights, Anthony,” I said, without moving from my position. “And you agreed. It has been two nights and here I am.”

“And I should have known Flynn is a man of his word.” Anthony adjusted a puffed-out scarf tied around his neck, another embellishment making his entire outfit look all the more idiotic. “I trust the arrangement we agreed upon is still favorable?”

My facial expression remained stoic. “Were you able to find it?”

Anthony chuckled. “I am able to find anything, given enough persuasion. I spent the better part of last evening interrogating mortals and bleeding them dry to find its current owner. One of my more daunting challenges… But, I found it.”

“Let me see it.”

“Ut… ut… ut…” Anthony lifted a finger, wagging it back and forth in a gesture which threatened to make me lose my self-restraint. I ignored it, but only for the time being. “First the answer to my question. You told me that if I procured your trinket, you would offer me protection from Sabrina. Is this agreement still favorable?”

“I have not indicated otherwise.” I glared as much as possible through the dark lenses of my sunglasses. Stepping forward a pace, I folded my arms across my chest, feeling the hilt of one of my knives press against my body from its position underneath my heavy wool coat. “Now, allow me to see it. My end of the agreement is contingent upon this being the item I requested.”

“Oh, it is,” he said, slipping his hand in his jacket and producing a wallet. “I recognized it instantly from your description.” I watched him open the billfold, about to break into a sweat over seeing this item I sold in haste return after four years. The action of leather unfolding took on painful slowness. Anthony reached inside, but then paused. I could have spat acid when he closed the wallet again.

“You know, Flynn,” he said, placing the hand holding the wallet on his hip and reaching into his coat again with his other hand. A pack of cigarettes emerged from within. One wound up perched between his lips while he fumbled for his lighter. “I still find it queer that an immortal with your reputation asked for something like this. I have fielded some fairly unusual requests and discovered a great deal about other vampires as a result, but when you told me you wanted something…” He chuckled, exhaling smoke through his nostrils while pocketing his lighter. “… so feminine, I was taken aback. I thought, if anything, you would desire some sort of weapon.”

Drawing a deep breath inward, I held it long enough to steady my anger. “Anthony, as I told you before, this is none of your fucking business.”

“Oh come now, Flynn. Indulge me.” He smiled. “Tell me of its relevance.”

“I…” The word emerged through the precarious hold I maintained on my own rage. My sharp tone of voice turned vitriolic. “… would sooner slit your throat and take your wallet while you choke on a puddle of your own blood. Now…” I cocked my head toward the wallet. “Let us finish our business with one another before I change my mind.”

Anthony huffed a chuckle, shaking his head. “Now, now, now. No need to get snarky; it’s a simple question.”

“And my response a simple answer. Leave it the fuck alone.”

“You know what your problem is.” With one hand, Anthony slid the wallet back into his coat. The other hand pointed his cigarette at me while he spoke. “You’re too intense, Flynn, for such a young immortal. You take your job too seriously and became reclusive and arrogant as a result. I can assure you, this will earn you no friends amongst the vampire collective as a whole.”

“As if I desired such a thing.” My arms fell to my sides. I began to step around Anthony, itching to instill the fear of God in him. “You are all pompous bastards – the lot of you – and your ways irritate me. I could not care less about the opinions of such impotent mortal lovers.”

“What did you call me?” Anthony’s eyes widened first, then narrowed.

The corner of my mouth curled in a grin. Parting enough to show teeth. “I called you a motherfucking mortal lover. What do you have to say about that?”

Anthony gritted his teeth, tossing aside his cigarette. “I would say that if being something other than the monster you are makes me a mortal lover, then being Sabrina’s trained pet makes you little more than the same brand of trash she is. Refuse.” He scoffed. “Utter refuse. Chosen son of an inferior coven! You have yours coming to you someday, I can promise you that.”

“Is this a threat?”

“More than a threat, it is a fact. Even I see the jealousy your brethren harbor for you and such jealousy can only be allowed to fester for so long. They’ll surrender your head on a platter the first moment somebody offers thirty pieces of silver.” He smiled. “You may have the exterior of a warrior, but you have the heart of a lap dog. And I will not be insulted by such a subordinate creature.”

“You’ll see the teeth of this lap dog soon enough if you fail to produce that which you promised me, Anthony.” Two pointed eyeteeth emerged from their slumber as I ceased pacing, balling my gloved hands into fists. “Or need I run through to prove my point?”

Anthony hissed, his own fangs slipping out and his eyes shooting figurative flames of wrath. “Bare your teeth at me will you? I was eating the flesh of children before you were suckling on your mother’s breast.”

“And I have slain immortals for less arrogance than that.” Faster than the action of lighting a cigarette, I slipped both hands under the folds of my coat and drew a set of blades, holding out both knives for Anthony to see. “Eager to die?” I asked. “Do you have any notion of how quickly I could make you dust on the pavement?”

Anthony sneered. “Where other men fight with fists, Flynn carries knives.”

“Better a blade than a stake.” I lunged with a knife, but missed on purpose. Anthony dodged out of the way, his grin turning smug while I held back any facial response. Including the sadistic grin that wished to emerge from toying with him. “I find stakes idiotic,” I continued. “Don’t you?”

“Over-inflated mythological devises, much like yourself.”

I lunged again, this time cutting into his jacket, forcing him to retreat a few paces. Anthony’s eyes darted to the cut and back to me as if afraid to allow me out of his sight. I smirked. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” I asked. “Coming from a vampire who dresses like the ringmaster of a circus and takes the company of mortals to cover for his inadequacies? I hope to heaven that if I am as pitiful of a creature at your age, somebody does me the favor of sending me to hell.”

He hissed once more. This time, as he dove for me, I dodged the attack and punched him to the ground. He spilled out and moaned, but rose to his feet. Anthony charged for me. I anticipated the action, though, and kicked him in the chest with such force that he flew against the building. His head impacted with the concrete; a solid thud preceded a long, pain-laden groan.

Springing toward him, I closed the distance between us and plunged a dagger deep into his stomach. Anthony screamed and I stepped back, watching him struggle, but only injure himself more in the process. The hilt of my knife jutted from his abdomen. I had him pinned.

I turned the other knife around in my hand, surveying the ruins of a vampire with my sadistic smirk only growing more devious the longer I beheld him. “My, what an uncomfortable position to be in,” I said, shaking my head. “And to think, I have another knife here that… ah yes, wait…” I held up a finger and lifted the blade close to my ear. “Yes, yes, I do believe this one says it wishes to know how black your heart is, Anthony. I am powerless to resist when these blades become adamant. I do not know if I will be able to stop it…”

“Alright!” Anthony yelled. He moaned once more and gritted his teeth, eyes clenching in a grimace. “Alright, I won’t ask any more bloody questions, Flynn. Just let me down.”

“I beg your pardon?” I lowered the knife, twirling it around once before slipping it back into his sheath and adjusting my coat. “I believe you forgot to say please.”

“Please! Please, please, please… Bloody hell, let me down. I’m begging you.”

“That is more like it.” Walking closer to Anthony, I wrapped my fingers around the knife’s hilt, but leaned forward and made certain to bare fangs again as I spoke. “Remember who you are trifling with. I would slice you from neck to stomach and leave you bleeding on the street to watch the sun rise. I suggest, when I remove this blade, you give me what I came for quickly and stop wasting my fucking time.”

I ripped the knife from his body before he had the chance to answer and watched with an apathetic air as he crumpled to the gritty pavement again. Strolling away from the wounded vampire, I produced a cloth from my pocket and wiped the blade clean, my eyes raising toward the sky to gage the time. I frowned and sheathed this blade as well. “Some time before dawn, please,” I said. “It is not getting any earlier.”

“Fuck,” Anthony muttered while clutching onto the building and coming to a tentative stand. Pausing to touch his wound, he winced and raised his crimson-coated fingers up to his line of vision. “I had best make this our last encounter. Just ruined a perfectly good suit.”

I said nothing in return. Anthony rummaged through his coat again and unfolded his wallet without hesitation. As he opened it, that sense of time standing still drifted from the creases of the leather and his bloody fingers held my attention captive while they reached inside. A gold chain gradually came to view, but as he raised his hand, I saw the pendant emerge from its hiding place and fought the urge to draw a sharp breath inward at the sight of what he held.

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “Is this what you requested?” he asked.

I strolled forward with more confidence in my gait than I possessed at the moment and snatched the necklace away. “Yes,” I said, my voice subdued in such a queer manner, it struck even me as odd. I cleared my throat to mask the slip in composure and stared at the pendant as with one gloved hand opened, I lowered it into my palm. Allowing my thoughts to drift, I visited another time and place. Back to when my name was Peter and I possessed the pulse of a mortal man.

It was supposed to be an engagement ring. That was why I withdrew several hundred dollars from the trust fund my aunt established before she succumbed to cancer. The money from my parents’ life insurance policies and the profits from selling my father’s farm, all meant to sustain me through college and medical school, but as my residency began to draw to a close, I found myself fixated on the future and came to the conclusion that the time was right to propose to my beloved Lydia. That was why I found myself at the jewelry store.

I emerged with something other than a ring, however.

On this side of my dance with immortality, I could not recall why I purchased the necklace for her until visited by the dream. Then all at once, this calloused heart felt a chill cross over its grave and relived the memory as though it had some relevance to the grander scheme of things. I recalled the jeweler looking across the counter at an indecisive young man, watching as I studied several diamond rings and rejected each one. Finally, he huffed and said, “Mr. Dawes, if you’re not sure about this, then it’s probably not the best time to propose to her, is it?”

Looking up at him, I furrowed my brow and frowned, glancing from his face to the counter and back again. I frowned at my hesitation, yet allowed myself to peruse the rest of his wares until my eyes settled on it. Gilded and Gothic, it fit her personality better than the cut pieces of stone I had been studying anyway. “Well, I need to get something for her,” I said to the crotchety old bastard. “It’s her birthday in a few days.”

My eyes continued to admire the pendant, taking in all of its intricacies. Two hearts, one on top of the other, with a rose draped across the two and one the rose’s thorns pricking the hearts. It was something so intricate and yet, so macabre and at once I knew Lydia was meant to have it. It was a perfect emblem for her.

I recalled purchasing it. And I recalled giving it to her. That was another memory causing me some degree of…

“Flynn?”

Shaking myself from my thoughts, my eyes lifted to engage Anthony’s once more. He clutched his stomach and scowled at me. “Is this what you were looking for?”

“Yes.” I nodded and thrust the necklace into my pocket. “You’re a clever bastard, I will give you that.”

“Good. Then our agreement is intact?”

“Oh yes, yes. I shall ensure Sabrina does not touch a hair upon your head.”

“Praise be to the Fates.” Anthony sighed, glancing at his blood-soaked hand. “I feared when we first met that she had ordered you to do me in. Believe me, Flynn, I’ll not be crossing your path again, except on accid…”

As he looked at me again, I reached underneath my coat and drew a knife. The handle left my palm after no more than two seconds cradled there. With a deft flick of my wrist, I whipped it toward Anthony, whose eyes became wide as the blade plunged deep into his chest.

I grinned. “No, Anthony. Not even on accident.”

What had once been Anthony burned into dust and descended onto the ground as ash and discarded clothing. My knife bounced off the pavement with a clank and came to settle next to his remains while a gust of wind begun carrying his remnant off into the nether. I strolled toward the blade, exhaling a breath I did not know I was holding, and paused to clean my weapon again before I slipped it into its sheath. My eyes remained set upon his ashes, though. “I said Sabrina would not. I did not guarantee the same for me.”

With a quick adjustment of my coat and a moment stolen to run my fingers through my spiky locks, I set out with my pearl of great price. As I headed back for my coven, though, I knew I had just played a dangerous game and could yet face wrath for the indulgence. Sabrina’s eyes beheld more those days, seeing through a network of spies who usually worked to my benefit. In this singular action, though, they became my bane. I had to do it, though; one memory hinted at other secrets lying in wait without telling me just what existed behind the veil. All I knew was I wanted to unravel it. I wanted to know just who I was at long last.

So, I lit another cigarette, then slipped into the shadows to seek a proper victim before retiring for the day. And I hoped this small measure of insubordination would not come back to haunt me the next day.

Story Beginning | Chapter Ten

“You are going to fill the airplane with smoke, beloved.”

The sudden voice broke me from my thoughts and directed my attention toward its source. Looking at her caused an instantaneous smile to surface on my face, something she mirrored within seconds when her eyes met mine. Flawless. That is the only way I could describe Celeste. Everything from her raven hair to her alabaster skin and her sensual figure had been shaped by the gods themselves.

Celeste leaned her elbow on the arm of her chair, crossing her legs and hitching the hem of her skirt up her thigh in the process. I admired the view until she cleared her throat in a deliberate manner. “What were you thinking about?” she asked, eyebrow perked and smile indelibly fixed on her face.

I chuckled, shifting in my seat to face her. The plush interior of her airbus came into view once more. I ignored the humming of the jet’s engines as I spoke. “Are you certain you wish to know, beloved?”

“In for a penny, in for a pound.” She nodded. “Go on and tell me. I imagine I know what anyway.”

“Then why do you want me to say it?” I asked.

“I just do.”

We continued looking at each other. I nodded. “We both have missed him, have we not?”

“Yes.” She spoke the word as though it had been resting on her tongue, waiting to spring forth. “I want our house in order again.”

“So do I.” I sighed, glancing away. “So do I.”

A tense silence settled between us, my thoughts wandering to several days ago when Victor stood on our porch steps, glancing back at us while Jacob waited in the car. The limosine idled and time stood still long enough for Celeste to settle in my arms and both of us to take one lingering glance at the man we affectionately called Maestro. From his short, dark hair to his polished shoes, he stood with his posture just as upright as ever. In his eyes, I detected a sadness, though.

Especially when they settled on the woman I held in my arms.

She tensed in response. We both frowned and he mirrored our expression before he turned and closed the distance between him and the car. The door closing echoed in the stillness. Or, so it seemed to in my thoughts, anyway. Celeste and I disappeared inside our Shreveport home, sparing ourselves the sight of the tailights growing distant in the dark.

“He has been doing fine without us,” I said, as much to fill the silence as to reassure myself.

“Oui,” Celeste said. My eyes returned to her in time to catch her wiping at her eyes. “Oh, I know he has. You know how Victor is. He takes everything in stride.”

“Strong and stalwart is our maestro.”

“Indeed.” She sighed.

I sighed as well. “But have we?” I asked after some seconds passed.

“Have we what?”

“Been doing fine without him.” I perked an eyebrow.

Celeste scoffed, standing. “Well, of course we have,” she said. “Don’t you think so?”

“Oh yes, well, of course.” I nodded. “I mean, Flynn had chance to spend some time with you, and I know he has missed you a great deal.” Smirking on impulse, I suppressed a chuckle at the timing of Flynn’s emergence. He did so hate to share Celeste.

Celeste grinned as though reading my thoughts. “Mmm… Diablo.” The shiver that ran over her struck me as an erotic caress, with Celeste’s hands touching her own body in response. “I always enjoy when the assassin emerges.”

My alter ego lifted his head within my psyche. I shoved it back down, reminding him this was my night. “Rest assured the sentiment is mutual, beloved. He purred like a kitten when you said his name.”

She laughed and allowed her hands to drift to her sides. I followed her path to the wet bar on the plane before speaking again. “And I have enjoyed being able to spend some time alone with you as well.”

Her eyes shifted to mine, a soft smile hinting at the corners of her mouth. “Je t’aime, mon coeur.”

“Et toi aussi, ma belle femme.”

Celeste winked. I grinned at being able to say the words once more as they meant more to us than merely being playful bits of French shared from one to the other. Ma femme – my wife – and the last name she had taken to using these days, my own, Dawes; I continued to be held captive by seeing her clad in my family colors. Still, a part of me wondered if the name Madden did not belong to her as well.

The moment his name surfaced again, so did my memories.

So many of them private recollections. So many of them shared experiences. Things Celeste and I could exchange and chuckle about as we remembered the little things encompassing each snapshot. How he earned the nickname ‘zen master’. How he preened with the slightest ego boost. How his eyes glinted each time we devised something decadent to round out our enchanted evenings. Nary a corner of Shreveport did not contain some memory which could be conjured like a witch’s spell.

Things Celeste kept locked inside her heart. Private gardens she would stroll through whenever she paused to think of Victor. Those things I never dared speak aloud, which I kept hidden inside as well. We understood, Celeste and I did, and never forced the other to disclose everything surrounding those private moments. So long as everything remained right between us.

And as I looked at Celeste, I saw nothing but beauty and promise framed in the woman who walked up to me.

Holding two drinks in her hands, she placed both on a table beside me and sat on my lap, curling close to me and nuzzling at my neck while my arms wrapped tight around her. I kissed her head and whispered to her how much I loved her while relishing these final moments before we were to land in Vegas. The window beside me treated us to a panoramic view of Sin City and she and I shared a grin while our minds spun dizzy with prospects. Tours of the city. Hunts late at night surrounded by the lights of casinos and strip clubs. As the plane made its final approach, however, both of us thought of one thing only.

Being reunited with Victor.