Omnibus post: Parts 72-74


Copyright Margaret Turner
10th October 2008

Mike watched, thoughtful, as she pulled off her helmet and handed it to Whisper who was doing likewise. He couldn't make out much in the poor light except that her hair was short and mid-coloured, and her fringed leather jacket was designed more for looks than safety. Whisper laughed at something she said and Mike was relieved to see that his mood had lifted. He watched Whisper hang the helmets on the handlebars and wheel the bike around, still sitting astride it he wheeled the bike into the garage while the woman waited.

It took longer than Mike expected for Whisper to return, but when he did it was apparent it was because he had taken the time to change out of his leathers. He nudged the woman's shoulder when he reached her and she mock-staggered, laughing, the bright sound carrying only faintly up to Mike. He turned back to his room, giving himself a quick once over in the mirror. His shirt was a bit rumpled and dusty from his visit to the cellars and he quickly changed it for another before leaving the room and heading downstairs.

The sound of voices drew him along the corridor to the kitchen; Gavin's cheerful tones, Whisper's rough voice barely audible at a distance, and the high, clear pitch of the woman rising above them. The clink of crockery joined the sounds as Mike approached the door and he slowed his step, drifting quietly to the kitchen entrance.

The woman stood at the table extracting containers of food and setting them out, aided or more often hindered by Gavin who had a pile of plates and bowls in front of him and was sliding plates under the dishes to catch the drips whilst stealing the occasional wonton with his fingers.

Mike observed her unnoticed. She was average height and average build and she would have been anonymous if not for her very red hair and pixie-like face. She looked young, not much older than Gavin maybe, but she moved and spoke with the confidence of someone a bit older.

Whisper was by the kettle, his back to the other two as he made a pot of tea, lapsang souchong by the smell. That done he reached into a drawer and retrieved a handful of assorted cutlery. He turned back towards the others, but paused, seeing Mike in the doorway, "Chopsticks or fork, Mike?" he asked holding up the implements in question.

Mike felt oddly wrong-footed at becoming the sudden centre of attention. "Chopsticks," he decided and found his feet again when Whisper's mouth curved up slightly in a faint smile. He thought his relief must be as palpable to everyone else as it was to him that their growing friendship appeared to have regained its equilibrium.

He stepped into the room, hesitant in front of this new person. It was almost instinctive now to take a slow breath as he did; beneath the overlaying scents of Chinese food that made his stomach rumble embarrassingly Mike sorted Whisper and Gavin from what was left.

Floral perfume, light and cheerful, but it covered a natural scent that was to Whisper and Gavin's scents what dried flowers were to fresh. Flat, muted, almost stale, but not quite; the sudden antipathy it engendered surprised him with its strength and for a moment he fought to keep the expression of it from his face.

"Hey Mike," Gavin greeted, stepping aside and gesturing vaguely towards the woman, "This is-"

"Alison," Mike finished for him.

Alison smiled, "That would make you *Detective* Colefield then." There was no hostility in her tone and Mike struggled with his own instincts that wanted to take offense where none was meant.

Her smile shifted slightly when he didn't immediately respond and she stepped closer, extending her hand formally, "Nice to meet you, Mike."

Mike was conscious of eyes on him, Whisper's, Gavin's, hers, and he made himself reach out and take her hand. Her grip was firm but friendly, "You too."

She released him and stepped back, putting space between them as she crossed to the fridge and began to root around. It felt oddly like he'd passed some kind of test and off-balance Mike glanced at Whisper, looking for a cue.

The other man only smiled, passing him a pair of chopsticks, and gesturing for him to take a seat. Unsure, Mike obeyed and was quickly joined by Gavin and then the others, relieved to find himself opposite Alison rather than next to her.

There was a pause, everyone seated with empty bowls, chopsticks or forks in hand and all the dishes spread out before them, no-one wanting to make the first move. Alison suddenly snorted and rolled her eyes, reaching out for the nearest dish and offering it to Mike, "Wonton?"

Mike took one with a murmured thanks and as if that had been the signal, Whisper and Gavin simultaneously reached for the same dish, Whisper beating the teen by a whisker, and dinner was underway.

For the first ten minutes there were only the sounds of eating, then Whisper got up and poured the almost forgotten tea for everyone and conversation surfaced.

Alison nodded at Gavin, "So Gav, how's the course going?"

The teen rolled his eyes and stuffed a forkful of noodles into his mouth with an expression that conveyed his meaning well-enough.

"Whisper?" she begged clarification and the other man took a sip of tea before answering.

"He's doing well-enough," he replied, "It's just a bit more work than he thought it would be."

Alison laughed, Mike felt the bright sound was out of place, *she* was out of place. He fought down the hostility with effort, but her scent lingered at the back of his throat like a bad taste despite all the other smells before him. She'd done nothing that he could see, he knew next to nothing about her, yet the feeling persisted against all logic.

"Mike?" Alison's voice drew his unwilling attention. "Are you settled in okay? Got everything you need?"

Mike knew his tone sounded a bit flat, but it was better than the alternative, "Yeah. I could do with some shelves though."

Alison nodded, "Gavin probably pinched them all."

"Hey!" Gavin objected and Alison and Whisper grinned at him before Whisper turned to Mike.

"Help yourself to any you find in the spare rooms, or if you can't find any, let us know and we'll sort something."

Mike nodded and helped himself to another wonton; he was reaching capacity and nibbling now more because it was there than out of any hunger. Whisper had slowed, as had Alison, Gavin however was still going strong. He frowned, suddenly thoughtful.

"You can eat?" it was almost a demand. "Sorry," he added almost immediately, slightly ashamed of his tone, but Alison took no offense.

"Yeah," she shrugged and popped a prawn into her mouth. "I get no nutrition from it. I could gorge myself daily and still starve to death. Most don't bother to eat once they change, but personally I like the taste." She poured herself some more tea, "Plus, it's sociable. I enjoy sitting down with friends."

Mike felt ridiculously guilty for his hostility after her honesty and that seemed finally to be the cure for it. He relaxed a bit and sipped his tea, content to listen to the idle conversation that Alison restarted and marvel at the sheer quantity of food Gavin managed to put away.

Eventually the meal wound to a close and Whisper rose with a faint groan and began to gather up the empty dishes. Mike moved to help him and Alison joined a moment later, Gavin was still finishing off the wontons. Mike could see a dishwasher, but Whisper ran water into the sink instead and began to wash up. Alison grabbed a towel and began to dry things and Mike used the the excuse of putting things away to explore the various drawers and cupboards in the kitchen.

When the dishes were done they all turned, leaning against the worksurface to watch as Gavin mopped up the last of the sweet and sour with some fried rice.

"One day he'll burst," Alison said.

Whisper grinned, "As long as I don't have to clean it up."

Gavin gave them a mucky look and Whisper tossed a dishcloth at his head, "Tomorrow, you get dish duty."

"Whisper," it was a whine that made Mike grin, Alison too.

Whisper shook his head - no mercy. Then he turned to Mike and Alison, "TV?"

Mike blinked, "Ah, yeah?"

Alison shook her head, "Nah, I'll see you boys in a bit." She left the kitchen and a few minutes later Mike saw her outside, shrugging into her jacket. Whisper nudged his arm distracting him and Mike turned.

Whisper tilted his head towards the door and Mike took the hint, following the other man out. Whisper paused and turned back, pointing a threatening finger at Gavin, "And you-"

Gavin raised his hands in self-defense, "I know, I know. Geez!"

Mike caught sight of Whisper's grin as he turned away from the teen and left the room, and he felt his own smile appear as he followed.

The lounge was pretty much as Gavin had left it with half a bowl of popcorn on the table rapidly growing stale.

Whisper dropped onto the sofa gracefully, hand finding the remote and already beginning to flick through the channels. Mike hovered a little uncertainly then took a seat on the sofa as well, half a cushion's width between him and Whisper.

Whisper tilted his head, looking at Mike sidelong for a moment before his lips curved in a private smile that Mike tried not to notice too much.

"She really threw you didn't she - Alison." He said a propos of nothing in particular.

Mike looked at the screen, irritating adverts being easier to watch than Whisper's face, at least when they were on mute. "I..." Mike paused, not sure yet in his own head what exactly had happened. He had an idea what it was, but he needed more information first. He changed tack, "Back at my place last night, you knew the guard wasn't a vampire."

Whisper nodded, his own eyes also fixed on the screen when Mike glanced in his direction. Somehow it seemed easier to talk if they didn't have to look at each other. "Yeah?"

"You said vampires 'looked different'?" he queried, hoping he remembered it correctly.

Whisper nodded, "Yeah."

When he didn't elaborate further Mike scowled, knowing the other man was watching him surreptitiously as much as he was watching him by the way Whisper's lips curved into a broad grin.

Mike refused to ask again and after a moment Whisper relented, "Vampires have a lower body temperature than humans."

Mike considered, "You see in infrared?"

Now Whisper turned to him, one knee coming up onto the cushion between them; Mike tried not to notice that it was only a bare inch or two from his own leg.

"I don't explain this often Mike, so I hope you're taking notes."

Mike nodded, he was listening.

"Vampires are very specialised creatures, everything they are and can do is aimed at making them nocturnal hunters of mammals. It makes them exceptionally good at that and very good at a lot of other things, but it also puts certain things, like getting a tan, right out of reach. Humans on the other hand are, if nothing else, versatile and whatever genetic anomaly we possess makes us even more so. We're not vampires; we're not typical humans either, I guess, but that's more Jan's bailiwick than mine. The traits we adopt from vampiric 'infection' aren't necessarily the same as those that vampires develop. We're not - well for want of a better word to describe their state - dead. Our bodies adapt any traits to our use, instead of the traits changing us to accommodate them. Does that make sense?"

Mike frowned thoughtful, nothing Angie had ever told him about vampires had suggested they were victims of their own biology. It made a kind of sense though, they were like sharks: the most efficient killers in the sea, but they couldn't ever stop swimming or they'd die. He was aware of Whisper watching him intently, waiting for him to digest this information before continuing. "It's the difference between having something if you need it, and not being able to survive without it," he said, waiting for Whisper's nod to confirm he had understood the gist of it.

Whisper shifted a little and his knee brushed Mike's thigh, "The typical vampire sees the lower end of the spectrum right into the infrared, it makes them better hunters at night, but it's a trade-off against losing the higher end and UV actively damages them, obviously. I'm not a vampire; infrared is useful for me, but as a daylight creature I can't afford to rely on that alone." Whisper shifted again, then he switched the TV off and got up. Mike watched curiously as he crossed to the doorway and turned the dimmer switch right down until the next setting was off.

Whisper settled on the edge of the coffee table opposite Mike and leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. Mike felt the urge to shift uncomfortably, it grew exponentially as Whisper reached up and slipped his sunglasses off.

"I can see from one end of the spectrum to the other, Mike. Infrared to ultraviolet and everything in between, and I see it in far more shades than you can imagine." Whisper's voice was low and Mike resisted the urge to lean in to hear it better. There wasn't much distance between them as it was. Whisper's pale eyes were almost hypnotic, the pupils small even in the dim light. He looked vulnerable without the shield of his sunglasses.

Mike swallowed, various urges flitted through his mind, but he squashed them all. He needed another complication right now like he needed a hole in the head and he refused to let impulse wreck the friendship. His mouth felt dry when he spoke, "You did warn Vaughan's men."

If the apparent diversion fazed Whisper he gave no sign, just slid his sunglasses back into place. "Yeah, I got there just before them. The whole place was rigged with infrared trips; I could see the beams and I wasn't about to risk it."

Mike sat back on the sofa, "It must be useful."

Whisper tilted his head, "It is, but it makes choosing paint a bitch."

Mike snorted, caught off guard by his own laughter and Whisper grinned broadly before getting back up and turning the lights up again. He returned to the sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table, "But enough about me, Mike - how are you doing? Not feeling like buying sunblock in bulk or anything?" His tone was light, but the question was serious and Mike gave it due consideration.

"I'm fine," it sounded lame to his own ears, but Whisper seemed to take it at face value and Mike refused to look long enough to analyse the faint smile he was sure he saw. He stood, a little more abruptly than he meant to and Whisper looked up in surprise.

"I should finish unpacking," that was a lie, there was nothing else he could do tonight unless he wanted to go hunting through the spare rooms for a set of shelves.

Whisper nodded easily enough, "Okay - if you need anything..."

Mike refused to consider the possibilities inherent in that trailing offer and with a vague wave of his hand he fled the lounge.

Upstairs, out of Whisper's sphere of influence, Mike mentally kicked himself a dozen times. He'd never been ruled by his emotions, yet things kept bypassing his defenses with horrible ease. Alison was a prime example; he had reacted to her on pure instinct and nearly alienated the others as a result. Now with Whisper he was overcompensating for something he hadn't even realised he was doing until Vaughan had said. He was man enough to admit he was veering between tentative attraction and outright denial of the whole thing. It worried him that he couldn't seem to compartmentalise his feelings any more, it was like he'd been robbed of his foundations. Even in the face of Jack's betrayal he'd been able to think his way out and not allow his emotions to get in the way of the decisions he'd had to make. Now he felt uncertain and wary; he had the awful suspicion that as 'fine' as he said he was and for the most part felt, he was actually teetering on the edge of something he didn't want to face. What was worse was that he had the sneaking certainty that the others and most particularly Whisper, knew exactly what was going on.

TBC...