This Side of the Grave (#5 Night Huntress)

settled more comfortably into the seat. I’d wait an hour or so before I called Bones. It was eleven o’clock at night; he was probably just arriving at
whatever was the latest Ohio hotspot with Denise and Spade.
We were a few miles away from the airport when a blast of energy hit the car like an invisible bomb. I instinctively reached for my sleeves,
forgetting I didn’t have knives strapped to my arms, when I realized it was just Mencheres dropping his shields.
“Next time, how about a heads-up before you do that?” I said, exasperated. “Thought we were being attacked.”
“My apologies,” he replied at once, folding his aura back in until it no longer felt like an explosive. “I didn’t mean to alarm you.”
You’ve alarmed me ever since we first met, oh ancient spooky one was my sardonic thought, but I didn’t say it out loud and he couldn’t read it
from my mind anymore. Just one of many reasons why I was glad I made the switch from half human to mostly dead.
Then, just as abruptly as his power had struck me moments ago, guilt slapped me. Mencheres’s extraordinary power, age, and visions of the
future had always creeped me out, but he couldn’t help being the way he was. Just like I couldn’t help being a half-breed before, or feeding from
vampires and absorbing their powers now. On the weird scale, I probably outranked Mencheres, yet I was still letting my discomfort about his
unusualness affect the way I thought of him.
If Bones lived a few more thousand years—and God knew I hoped he did—he might end up with many of Mencheres’s unusual abilities, too.
Mencheres shared his power legacy with Bones, giving him mind reading and a strength upgrade overnight, and we didn’t know how many more
things might crop up over time. How would I like it if people treated Bones suspiciously because his powers made him different from most other
vampires? Even the thought made anger burn in me. Yeah, I knew how I’d like it; I’d want to kick their asses all over the place.
“I’m the one who owes you an apology,” I said, staring at Mencheres’s drastically altered profile. “Even before I was mad at you for not telling me
that you’d wiped out a month of my life when I was sixteen, you always made me uneasy, and it was mostly because I was being a hypocrite.”
He glanced over at me with the strangest expression on his face. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Cat.”
“Apollyon’s minions aren’t the only ones who’re guilty of being afraid of someone just because they’re different,” I replied softly. “You’d think with
how I grew up, I would’ve known better, but I still ended up doing the same thing with you. I’m sorry, Mencheres. You deserved better than that.”
The car decelerated as he pulled over to the side of the road, waiting until we were stopped before meeting my gaze fully.
“You owe me no apology.” Each word was enunciated as though it were its own sentence. “By neither word nor deed have you ever exploited me
for your own gain, and I cannot say the same about my actions with you.”
Eight months ago, I might have snapped, “That’s right, buddy!” but a lot of things had changed since then.
“I don’t know what it’s like to hold a huge supernatural line together for over four millennia. The most I did at my old job was lead a team of sixty
soldiers for about five years. Even though there’s no comparison between the two, I still had to make some ‘greater good’ decisions that were really
tough, so while I was pissed at you over what you did, some part of me still understood. Besides”—I smiled wryly—“since your manipulating brought
Bones and me together, it’s kind of hard for me to justify still holding a grudge.”
Mencheres took my hand and brushed it against his forehead in an oddly formal gesture. “You honor me with your forgiveness.”
“And you can honor me by accepting my apology, because no matter what you did, I was still wrong, too,” I countered.
He let go of my hand, an expression of amusement flitting over his features before they became impenetrable again.
“You are a very stubborn woman. Apology accepted.”
“Thank you.” Then I cracked a small, self-conscious smile. “Okay, enough with the intimate confessions, right? Let’s go find some bigoted ghouls
and pummel them into taking us to their leader.”
Mencheres’s faux azure gaze glinted with a hint of the frighteningly lethal ass kicker he was beneath his soft-spoken, proper demeanor.
“Yes,” he said, drawing out the word. “Let’s. Ed and Scratch have already arrived in the city. Vlad will meet us tonight at the town house I’m
renting. Once we are all here, we will begin the hunt.”
Of our group, Dave was the first to strike pay dirt in Memphis. A week after we arrived, he reported through Fabian that he’d made contact with
some ghouls who had a definite bias against vampires. We weren’t sure if they were directly affiliated with Apollyon, or just some knockoff bigots,
but according to Dave, he’d spent a fun-filled evening listening to them rant about how ghouls and vampires should live separate, unmixed lives.
That inter-dating/marrying was a contamination of the species, and only through separatism could real “strength and purity” be attained.
Sounded like the sort of bullshit Apollyon’s minions would preach, considering he was like an undead version of a KKK Grand Dragon. Dave had
a tentative meeting with the same group tomorrow night, and I wasn’t going to interfere. No need to tip our hand by being impatient and grabbing
the pawns if waiting meant we could get our hands on the king instead. I hoped after a couple more meetings, Dave would be trusted enough to be
let deeper into the ghouls’ twisted group.
As for Vlad, Mencheres, and me, we were batting zero. Timmie’s sources pointed to some odd activity at bars, plus I’d run the information past
Tate and he’d verified that the crime rate had ticked up in Memphis recently, also adding credence that this was the area Apollyon was most likely
centered in. But even though we’d hit local bars looking for suspects in the past seven days, we’d come up with nothing but an appreciation for the