When we arrived back at our apartment building, I walked Angel and Christi to their door and waited while they got what they would need for the next few days. Once they had enough clothes and all of Christi’s dance things, we went to the elevator to ascend to the top floor to my apartment. I opened the door and let them in to put their stuff in my extra rooms and get settled in.
“I need to go get some groceries since you guys will be staying with me for the foreseeable future. Angel, can you make me a list of everything you will need? I can’t wait to see what kind of delicious food you can make on my budget. Do not hold back this is a chance for you to go wild and make whatever you want, and I get to eat all of it!” I said to Angel thinking of all the different homemade meals I could get now.
“Miss Mara, you don’t have to pay for our food. I can pay for our part of the groceries; you are already doing enough just letting us stay here and protecting us.” Angel replied. “No, you will pay for nothing. I want to see what you can do with unlimited ingredients. I already know what you can do with the budget you normally have to deal with, which is already amazing. I want to treat you and Christi while you are here, and if I can get some good homemade heavenly food from my Angel while I am at it, all the better. Now make me a list, and I will head out to the store while you two settle in and watch some tv.” I said to her, not allowing any objections.
Sighing, Angel picked up the notepad I kept by my phone and began writing down a list of groceries. After about fifteen minutes of asking Christi and me what we wanted to eat and figuring out the stuff she would need, Angel finally tore off the sheet of paper and passed it to me. “That should be everything,” Angel said. “Christi, what is your favorite kind of ice cream?” I asked. Christi’s head perked up, and she said, “Cookies and Cream with hot fudge and whip cream!” I jotted it down and said, “You got it. Now that is everything.” and winked at Angel on my way to the door.
I took the elevator to the basement parking garage that required my master key. My cars were parked on one side, and on the other side were my armory and sanctuary. I decided to take the Trailblazer for the cargo space and pulled out of the garage a few minutes later. Driving to the store took about 20 minutes, and finding a parking spot felt like it took even longer, but it likely only took about 5 minutes at the superstore I hate.
I started the long trek from the parking lot to the automatic doors under the blue and yellow sign when I noticed a tingling sensation that meant I was being watched. I don’t know if it is an ability or just from thousands of years of experience, but I can always tell when I am being followed or watched. I usually would just let whoever was following me ambush me when they decided it was a good time to die. Still, this time, I was going into a crowded store, and that was the last place I wanted to confront a dangerous supernatural. So I stopped and looked around for whoever it was and spotted them almost immediately.
He was about a hundred yards away from me, but I knew he could hear when I said, “Hello there, Tigger. What do you want now? And before you start yapping, purring, meowing? I can’t hear you from here, so either come here or go away before I get annoyed.” So Damon, the big tough weretiger, started jogging towards me with his hands to his sides, showing he wasn’t armed and didn’t have his claws out.
When he finally reached me, he started with, “My name is Damon, not Tigger. I am the..” I interrupted, “Leader of the eastern blah blah of the yada yada Covenant Council. I told you I don’t care about that, and it has no authority over me. I am sure you heard that when you mentioned meeting me to your superiors or the other council members.” Visibly angry, Damon just nodded.
“So what do you want with me, and why are you following me around? If you are doing some sort of weird were mating ritual, I am not interested in you or any male, female, or otherwise.” I questioned him. Damon looked taken aback but said, “No, you aren't my type. The council wants me to make a connection with you. I am the one that got volunteered to be the representative who is supposed to liaison between you and the council. I need to give you my number and get yours if you are willing, and I did my job. I told them you want to be left alone, but they didn’t want to hear it because you have been off the grid for a couple of hundred years, and they don’t want to lose you again.”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“What exactly is in it for me if I give you my number? The council is just a bunch of politicians, barely better than human politics. I am the most powerful being on the planet unless you have heard of something new that I haven't seen in over ten thousand years, and I have no need for politics in my life.” I said.
“We have resources that could be available to you, and we want to protect humans the same as you do,” Damon said. “Resources? I have more money and resources than some governments. You only protect humans to protect yourselves and to keep your existence secret. I protect them because they are innocent and don't deserve to be preyed upon by monsters.” I countered.
“If you don’t want to give me your number, don't. Will you at least take mine? Then, if you end up needing me for something, I will prove that we can be an asset to you, and it won't be one-sided.” He pleaded. I was about to refuse entirely, but then I remembered the situation with Angel, and an idea struck me. “What do you know about cambions? Victor Moore is becoming a nuisance to me, and I want to know what he is involved in before I decide how to handle him. You find out what you can about him and his business, and if it’s impressive enough, I will give you guys access to my actual number. For now, here is my business answering service number. I will check my messages periodically and get back to you.” I handed him a business card with my answering service phone number.
“That is better than I expected, honestly. Do you have a cell phone? I can give you my number to text or call me when you decide you are willing to do business with us.” he said. I pulled out my Droid and had him tap his name and number into the contact info. “That is settled; now I have to go back to my grocery shopping. I have hungry people waiting for me at my house. From now on, don’t act like such a fuckin creeper. I know you are a cat, but I was getting ready to decapitate you when I realized it was you.” I said, giving him the side-eye. Damon just huffed and walked away without another word.
I got the shopping done as quickly as possible and went through the checkout line with two carts overflowing with groceries. Checkout took forever because of the thirty lanes; only four were open. Finally done with the store, I went to the parking lot, loaded everything in my truck, got back on the road, and headed home.
When I parked in the garage, I grabbed a large cart in my armory for moving weapons and ammo around, loaded it up with groceries, and pushed it to the elevator. In only one trip, I got all the groceries to my front door and opened it to Christi and Angel in the kitchen cooking something that smelled delicious. “FOOD! That smells amazing. I am going to put all of this away at my speed. Just a heads up.” I stepped around the cart and started moving at top speed, unloading and putting away groceries. Angel and Christi looked like they were standing still as I blurred around the kitchen, putting everything away in just a few seconds until I finally finished sitting at the island across from Angel on the barstool, looking at the big pot of chili she was making. “All done… Cornbread?” I asked.
“Of course, I made cornbread Miss Mara. Two big pans are in the oven right now. It will be about another half hour before it is done.” Angel said, laughing at me. “That’s fine. I need to finish editing my article on the missing girls from the club and submit it to the Conservator website to get published.” I hopped down from the barstool, walked over to my laptop, and started up my computer to finish my work.
Just as I submitted my article, I received an email from an anonymous email address. Inside the email was an attachment with a video of someone I thought died ten thousand years ago. Braman stood in the center of the frame as an adult with a group of kids in chains. He was directing someone off-screen to take the kids to the auction stage before turning around and looking at the camera, and smiling before it cut off. I rewatched it a few more times and realized that all the kids were supernaturals.
Braman was alive, and he was running a child slave trade.