“Yep,” Stephen said, popping the P.
Kilian glared at him before turning his attention back to his mother. “If you want to help, then don't tell the Army we were here. We’ll be on our way.” He tried to detour around her, but there wasn’t room, and he wasn’t about to push his mother out of the way.
“Yeah, like they're not going to figure it out. I can only teleport us places where I feel an emotional connection. And since I was a giant loser with no life, that limits our possible landing spots to my house or the comic book section of the bookstore. That's not a wide search range,” Stephen said in a stage whisper.
Kilian glared at Stephen, who poked a finger into his chest. “Yeah, yeah, don't get all dramatic because my life sucked. Your life sucks even more at this precise second, so pity is not appropriate.”
“I don't pity you,” Kilian lied. He completely pitied Stephen, but it seemed unkind to say so.
“Kilian, surely they will help you if there is something supernatural attacking you,” his mother said.
Stephen answered before Kilian could compose a pretty deception. “Yeah, you'd think seeing as he's a Ranger hero and all, but surviving two team massacres makes everyone assume he's either the unluckiest bastard in the world or an asshole who abandoned his team to die.”
“Excuse me?” Kilian demanded.
“Demonically enhanced hearing.” Stephen tapped his ear. “Do you think I can't hear all those little werewolves in their bunks at night? Those assholes aren’t going to lift one finger to help you.”
“Language!”
“Sorry, Mrs. Kildare,” Stephen said. “But they are bodily orifices out of which processed food is expelled in solid form. They think Kilian must have abandoned his first team. Apparently, every other team member came out shredded into one-inch strips, and he got off easy with an evisceration and broken back. I don't think I've ever heard someone refer to evisceration as easy, but I suppose compared to getting ripped into one-inch chunks of meat, it's vaguely appropriate.”
“The dragon knocked me off a cliff before killing the rest of the team,” Kilian said. He hated reminders of that day. “I was out of his feeding zone because I had fallen far enough to escape his attention.”
Stephen nodded thoughtfully. “That explains it. Dragons are incredibly messy eaters. You’d think that something related to reptiles would be able to open its mouth bigger, but...” Stephen wrinkled his nose as though imagining how a dragon ate.
“The Lord spared you, and we wanted you to come home,” his mother said, tears making an appearance again.
Kilian was incredibly tired of the emotional bloodletting. “I can't keep having this conversation with you, Mom.”
“Nope, because when the Army catches up with us, they’re going to stand back while he gets turned into a pile of dust. So whatever conversation you want to have, have it now, have it quickly, and then Kilian and I need to run for our lives. Is that a fair summary?” Again, his smile did not match the darkness in his words.
“Could you lower the sarcasm levels?” Kilian begged.
Stephen clutched his chest. “Restraint would cause a catastrophic buildup of internal sarcasm that would make my brain fry.”
His mother shook her head fondly. “Oh Stevie, you haven't changed.”
He gave her a lop-sided grin. “Not really. And the sad thing is that the Army thinks it's the demon making me sarcastic. They don't respect the depth of my psychiatric disorders.”
“Don't say that,” Kilian's mom chided him. “You might have been a little eccentric, but you were always a nice boy. I never would've let Kilian babysit for you if you were the hellion people like to pretend. They wanted to point their fingers at a little boy who was loud and different so they didn’t have to look at their own children and admit that they were raising entitled brats.”
Stephen smiled. “That is hands down the nicest thing anyone has said to me in years.”
She rested her hand on Stephen’s cheek and jealousy hot and sharp lanced Kilian’s soul. “Only because your mother was slowly losing her mind. When you were young, you were the apple of her eye. I still remember when Mrs. Stevenson suggested that she have the priest look at you for possible possession. Your mother said Mrs. Stevenson needed to take her Angela down and have her checked by a psychologist for raging narcissism.” She smiled at the memory. “Susan then suggested Mrs. Stevenson might want to have the same psychologist do an evaluation on her, too.”
All Stephen’s masks fell away for a moment. “I didn’t know that,” he said.
Kilian’s mother sighed. “That's why I should have said something when your mother was suddenly so aggravated with you. I should've known something was wrong. That worthless father of yours wouldn’t have noticed if the rapture came. I should have. We all let you down, and I am truly sorry for that.”
Stephen’s gaze slid over to Kilian. “Make it up to me by not letting Kilian down. He's a good man facing a horrific end if we can't protect him. All we need is some form of transportation. I even have enough magic to get some rusty, old jalopy running and then we’ll be out of your hair.”
His mom frowned, clearly caught between the desire to help and her religious convictions. She chewed her lip. Maybe Kilian could give her a little push. “We’re heading to the Cathedral in Chicago.”
“The cathedral!” Her voice rose, and she cast a guilty look toward the door to the dining room before she asked in a quieter voice, “Why the Chicago cathedral?”
“Because that's where Silas is sleeping. When vampires need to rest, at least Judas vampires, we do it under cathedrals.” Which explained why Silas needed money. Catholic bishops liked Judas vamps as much as their parishioners, but money opened doors. Or in the case of Silas, bought space under the cathedral’s altar. His mom frowned.
“Judas vamps are the only supernaturals who come from a Christian background, and Christians are more likely to survive the turning,” Kilian explained. Kilian suspected that had more to do with certain denominations excelling in guilt, but he was trying to secure assistance, so he decided that was best left unsaid. Their conversation was going well, in part because he had learned to not say certain things that his eighteen-year-old self would have delighted in announcing.
