Chapter 11

AJ was sprawled across the concrete, his vision swimming. Faces appeared above him, mouths moving frantically, but their voices reached him as if through water; distant and distorted beneath the high, insistent whine that had swallowed all other sound.

I must be dead, right?

He felt a pair of strong arms half-lift him from the ground, and pull him out into the cool night air. His heels scraped tracks into the ash-covered ground, causing unpleasant vibrations to quiver through his body. The dagger pendant trembled against his palm; he tightened his grip without thinking.

I don’t actually feel too bad, he thought. Braced by the firefighter’s arms, he hauled himself up to his feet

“Oh! You’re… alright?” he asked, clearly shocked. AJ’s hearing had returned.

“Yeah, I don’t seem to be injured…”

“But you were on top of the ground when it…”

“AJ!” yelled Michael, running towards them, almost knocking over two other firemen in the process. “Are you OK? What happened?” He was frantic.

“I don’t know, there was something… the ground… where’s my phone?” he asked, “I probably have it recorded.”

“Find his phone!” Michael barked the order to a field agent in the vicinity. “Shit man, I’m glad you’re standing… Sofia…” his voice trailed off as his gaze settled on a nearby ambulance. The colour drained from AJ’s face, ice forming in his chest.

“Is she OK?” he asked, fearing the worst.

Michael's face contorted. "She's breathing, but..." His words faded as the ambulance doors slammed shut. The vehicle lurched away from the curb, its wailing sirens drowning out whatever else he might have said.

“God, she’s what?” urged AJ.

“They don’t know whether her legs will be saved…”

AJ’s knees buckled as the ground rose up to meet him. He felt the dagger burn cold in his glove. He wanted to follow the ambulance, to ask questions, to beg for forgiveness. Michael’s hand found his shoulder.

“Easy lad, she’ll live, that’s for damn certain,” Michael squeezed his arm. “What isn’t certain is how you managed to escape unharmed. Only the two of you survived….”

AJ shook his head. “I don’t know, I just felt the ground move… it was like a bomb or something, I don’t…”

“Sir, AJ’s phone!” called a voice. The agent approached, extending AJ's phone. AJ pulled himself to his feet and took it, his gloved thumb leaving a smudge of ash across the screen as he checked the display: 3:03 AM.

He tapped the video; the timestamp showed it frozen at 03:03. For a heartbeat a thin, high hiss cut through the air; not quite static but not radio either. The footage blurred, then the file list stuttered. When his phone restored the gallery, the footage was simply gone.

Trembling fingers navigated his video gallery. The warehouse footage wasn’t there. He tapped over to recently deleted, heart sinking as he scrolled through thumbnails of mundane moments, but nothing from tonight. The screen captures of those computer monitors had vanished too.

“Fuck,” AJ swore, “the videos have been deleted?”

“Deleted?” echoed Michael, “how is that possible?”

“No clue. I was definitely recording. Oh fuck the footage…” 

“What footage?” Michael urged.

The footage where I got jumped by a Vampire… and the pictures of the jammer, they’re gone!

“Oh, no it’s still there,” AJ lied, gesturing to a random video on his phone. Michael nodded.

AJ looked up towards the warehouse. “It’s probably still there though.” He started walking, before being stopped by Michael’s firm grasp.

“What’s still there?” he interrogated.

“There was high grade circuitry, and glass balls, like you’d see in a glassblowing place.”

“There was nothing like that reported when they were pulling you out,” Michael said flatly.

“Impossible, that’s what I wanted Sofi to see,” he started walking over to the warehouse again with Michael in tow. The area was teeming with agents, and what looked to be a bomb disposal team. The agent at the entrance held a hand up, but Michael dismissed it with his own, walking straight past. 

As they reached the area of the explosion, AJ realised Michael was correct. All that was left was the blackened crater. No wiring, no circuitry, no glass.

“It was definitely there, that’s why we were in this corner!” AJ yelled, frustration creeping in.

“AJ I believe you,” Michael said, offering another consoling arm on the shoulder. “These Type-V places have a habit of doing this kind of stuff; playing with your head, making you see shit.”

“I didn’t just see it, it was there,” AJ bit back, “where could it be…”

“Explosions are definitely a new one. Makes me think you might’ve been on to something…” Michael trailed off, his eyes scanning AJ. “You need to get home. Rest, sleep, etcetera. Take a day off tomorrow and I’ll see you at work on Tuesday, provided you don’t start showing any weird symptoms.”

AJ laughed. “Like fangs?” he joked.

“Exactly,” winked Michael. “Come on, I’ll get you into one of the cop cars, they’ll take you home. In the meantime, go into that tent and remove your hazmat.”

AJ followed the order and walked into a medical tent that had been erected nearby.

He peeled off his helmet and froze. A jagged puncture gaped where the back of his skull should have been protected, edges curled like burned paper. Whatever hit him should’ve killed him.

Helmets save lives, even in Vampire related scenarios…

He ripped the suit and the gloves from his body; the dagger pendant fell out onto the floor. He swallowed, picking it up, then slid it deep into his jacket pocket. He would sort this out with Eliza. He had to.

His phone buzzed.

Speak of the devil… or the Vampire in this case…

“I’m nearby, I sensed you in peril.” He read the message and checked his watch. 6.02 AM.

“Isn’t the sun coming up soon?”

“Got an hour or so. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, mostly. I probably should be dead.” The three dots on the screen appeared then disappeared a few times.

“I need to see you. Please.”

“Hang on, I’ll send you the pin to my flat. I’m getting a lift with the police.” He located his Maps app and copied the location into the chat.

“Thanks, I’ll see you there xxx”

“Cars outside,” Michael's voice cut through AJ's concentration, making him fumble the phone between startled fingers.

“Jesus… thanks, I’m coming.”

“Good. Remember, I don’t wanna see you ‘til Tuesday.” Michael exited the tent. AJ followed behind, turning away towards the police car parked nearby.

—

Upon reaching his flat, he threw his coat at the peg, missing the hook. Heaving himself to his desk, he slipped off his watch and kara, letting both clatter onto the wooden surface. The steel band; which he'd worn faithfully since before he could remember, suddenly felt like it was weighing his arm down to the floor.

Sorry, God, I’ll put it back on after I’ve showered.

A knock at the door caused his ears to prick.

Eliza. It’s like I can feel her.

He dragged himself to the door, each step heavier than the last. The lock clicked open under his fingers. Before he could even register the blur of pale skin and auburn hair in the hallway, Eliza collided with him; a cold, desperate mass sending him staggering backward.

His shoulders hit the floor with a dull thud that knocked the wind from his lungs. She clung to him, her slender fingers digging into his shoulders, her face buried against his neck. The wetness of her tears shocked him.She wasn’t fragile; not Eliza; but something in her had cracked tonight, and it bled through her poise.

Vampires are surely not meant to cry this much - he thought, yet here she was, trembling against him, her dark mascara leaving charcoal streaks down ivory cheeks.

“Shut up,” she whispered, her voice muffled against him.

“You know the sun rises in 49 minutes…” he joked.

“Yeah, that’s why I can’t stay long,” she said, removing her face from his neck and wiping tears on her sleeve.

“Bad day?” AJ joked again. Eliza hit him, a smile creeping across her face.

“You could say that. Tell me what happened.”

AJ hauled himself up from the floor, pushed the door shut with his heel, and began telling her everything that had happened, as fully as possible.

“…and that brings us to you jumping me like a deranged tiger,” he concluded, noting Eliza had chosen to ignore his last sentence.

“I’ve never heard of phones doing that,” she said, “or a Haven having any kind of technology really. What about the necklace, did you look?”

“Oh, yeah I found it, here.” He went to his jacket ,which was still on the floor, and pulled the pendant out from the inner pocket. “It’s pretty, I can see why…” his voice trailed off as Eliza's expression crumpled, her eyes fixed on the pendant.

“So she finally met the Final End,” Eliza muttered, more to herself than anything.

“Who? Someone you were close to?” AJ asked. Eliza shook her head, her expression lifting. She reached for the necklace and pocketed it.

“Story for another day,” she checked her phone for the time. “I haven’t got long. The Praetor has tasked me to find out what happened, as he was explicitly forbidden from doing so himself. I have to see the site myself…”

“There’s OUSR everywhere,” AJ interjected.

“He rudely interrupted. You’re the first mortal I’ve found that my power didn’t really work the first time, and I’ve used it a lot. Since I’ve beat those odds once, I think I can charm my way in without an issue.”

“Sorry,” AJ apologised, nodding at her explanation. 

“I need you there.”

“Why?”

“Weird shit happens around you for some reason.”

“Tell me about it.”

“And you’re good at spotting things.”

She swiveled toward the door, but AJ caught her wrist. Their eyes met as he pulled her back, and in the space of a heartbeat, his lips found hers.

“Getting confident now, eh?” she said as they parted.

His voice caught. "When I saw that hole in my helmet..." He touched the back of his head instinctively. "Life's too short to hesitate. Even shorter in your world, apparently."

“Eloquence. Nice. I got news for you baby, It’s your world too.” She leaned in again and met his lips with hers. “Oh, and AJ?”

He lifted his chin in silent question.

“Make sure you bring that portable sun you fried Radha with. I haven’t forgotten, we still need to talk about that.”

A sound escaped him; not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh; something caught between relief and resignation.

“You got it.”

“I’ll message you when I’m up,” she said, slipping into the hallway with a final glance over her shoulder.

AJ pushed the door shut and let his back rest against it, his legs giving way beneath him until he found himself on the floor. Exhaustion claimed him before he could even think about making it to bed.

As his eyes closed, he thought he heard it again; three low pulses beneath the city’s breath.

–

Morning broke over the River Aire like a reluctant confession. The sky was the colour of tin and dishwater; the kind of light that flattened everything beneath it. In a penthouse on the waterfront, heavy blackout curtains kept that light at bay.

The only illumination came from a television screen, its glow reflected in the curve of a cut-glass tumbler beside an untouched ashtray. Mr. Grey sat in a high-backed leather chair, cigarette balanced between his fingers, the smoke rising in disciplined ribbons toward the air-filtration vent. His eyes were half-lidded, fixed on the morning news.

A familiar jingle played, followed by the bright cheer of a breakfast-show host doing their best to sound upbeat about disaster.

“This morning we’re joined by Peter Hall from the Leeds Branch of the Office of Urban Safety and Resilience, and activist and journalist Naomi Price, who says the government owes us answers about last night’s warehouse fire in Holbeck…”

On screen, the two figures sat at opposite ends of the studio sofa. Peter Hall, an OUSR press officer with the stiff smile of a man who hadn’t slept, gestured politely as Naomi spoke over him. They talked for a few minutes before it got heated.

“With respect, Peter,” she said, her tone sharp enough to cut the studio’s forced warmth, “there’s no reason your department should have been at that site. This isn’t urban planning, it’s something else. My readers have been sending footage… vans marked OUSR arriving before the fire crews, drones over the scene before anyone knew there was a blaze…”

Hall interjected with a practised chuckle. “We monitor public safety. That’s our job. Leeds has extensive urban-sensing networks…”

“Urban sensing,” Naomi repeated, her eyebrows arching. “That’s a very friendly term for constant surveillance. But I’m not talking about cameras, I’m talking about what witnesses described; a buzzing before the explosion. Vibrations underfoot. Lights flickering. You people keep saying it was a gas leak, but none of that explains why half the footage from that district just… vanished from public feeds overnight.”

Hall’s smile faltered. “Data corruption. Infrastructure failure. You know as well as I do, our systems…”

“Or something you didn’t want seen,” Naomi said, leaning forward. “Maybe your office isn’t just watching the city… maybe you’re experimenting on it. There are rumours, Peter. People saying the OUSR’s not about safety at all, that it’s about containment.”

The host’s voice cut in too brightly. “We’ll have to leave it there! Thank you both for…”

Mr. Grey muted the television. The silence that followed was vast.

He leaned back, exhaling smoke through his nose, watching the tendrils coil like phantom handwriting in the air. The muted presenters continued their pantomime, mouths moving without sound.

“Containment,” he murmured, tasting the word. “How close you are, Miss Price.”

The cigarette burned low. He crushed it delicately in the ashtray, then reached for the remote. The screen went black, leaving only the thin hum of the refrigerator and the faint hiss of the river against the quay below.

Grey rose, adjusting the cuff of his shirt. In the darkness, the faint reflection of the city lights traced across the glass wall of the apartment; a web of fire and circuitry.

“The world’s waking up,” he said to no one. “Best not to let it see too much.”