Not Your Sweetheart

“Ezra will help me – if I can find him.” Daniel left it at that, unsure if he should elaborate. For all he knew, Ezra could’ve been cast from heaven, done by an archangel themselves to punish the angel for helping a Kromer – a damned Kromer, at that. Daniel still had a vague amount of hope that the angel would answer him. He was by far not a praying man, but fuck he had tried. 

At the mention of his father, Daniel stiffened, like he relived the moment itself. “I’m glad he’s dead,” he said slowly, looking at his palm once more. “I let him die, Charlotte. I didn’t try to save him. It was either him or me – and I was fuckin’ – I said let it be him.” That was really what it amounted down to. Bryan Kromer expected nothing less of his son; he’d lived his life, Daniel, while in his 30′s, still had longer to live. And what a miserable existence it was. There’d been a time it was better; with Charlotte, and a love he hadn’t let himself feel in far too long. Now, he felt like a stranger. He had gotten over not having a soul – it’d have been far too stained at this point, anyway. It was deserving. “His funeral was a fucking mess. It rained – not ‘cause the sky was weeping, but I’m pretty sure it was just taking a dump on whoever decided to show up.”

Daniel ran a hand over his face, “A lot of shit, Charlotte,” the Kromer trailed off, leaving it at that as he stood. “Can I use your shower?” he asked finally, downing the rest of the coffee. “I ain’t gonna slide into your bed without using the shower,” he joked, running a hand down his face again. “I don’t sleep at night,” he reminded her, pacing back and forth instead of heading towards the bathroom. He waved a hand towards her, “Yeah – ain’t none of my business, I get it.” He wasn’t sure if he had any clothes left at Charlotte’s house, or if she kept any. Nevertheless, he was fine sleeping in nothing, if he had to. It was nothing Charlotte had never seen before. 

Resting was enough for him, even as he made his way back towards the bedroom. “Feel free to join me,” he called over his shoulder, having no shame to his game as he pushed open the door to the bathroom, tugging his shirt off in the process. 

Charlotte provided little response to Daniel’s guarantee that Ezra would help, save a glance in the opposite direction.  The woman could think of little that was less likely to occur than an angel knowingly dabbling in the affairs of a demon, but perhaps it could happen.  Perhaps the bond between Kromer and angel were stronger than she suspected.  Still, she didn’t hold her breath.

The sudden tenseness in Daniel’s posture and shift in the room’s atmosphere didn’t go unnoticed by Charlotte.  She listened to him explain how he had left his father to die both knowingly and willingly.  She wasn’t sure if Daniel regret it or felt guilt over it, but she knew what it meant to be backed into that same corner.  The woman met his eye and remained quiet for a moment carefully selecting her words. “You don’t owe me an explanation for it,” Charlotte finally responded.  “I’m not sure if you’re trying to explain it to yourself, or justify it to me, or you’re looking for some sort of forgiveness from someone.  It doesn’t exist in situations like that,” she added quietly.  She was still looking toward Daniel, though her eyes seemed to be looking beyond her as she recalled the faces of the dozens of individuals she’d chose her own life over.  “No greater good or lesser evil when it’s done,” she mumbled, her eyes focusing on Daniel’s again. “Only our choices.”

Charlotte offered little in response to Daniel’s observations about Bryan’s service.  “I would have come, if you’d asked.” She wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not, wasn’t sure if she would have been allowed by Evangeline to actually arrive--but she would have gone.

Something cold flooded Charlotte’s veins when Daniel chose to withhold the answer to the question she’d asked about the scar.  She peered up at him when he stood, her only response to his request being her lifted arm gesturing back toward where he would find the shower.  She didn’t seem to find the joke terribly amusing.  “It’s not that there’s just… too much to do tonight and too much to tell,” Charlotte tried to explain.  The woman caught his hand when he waved it toward her, beckoning him closer by slightly pulling his hand toward her.  “Try to sleep tonight.  I’m on a novena for Saint Nicholas of Tolentino, but I’ll pray it to Saint Giles instead tonight. If that doesn’t work I’ll wake you.”  She released his hand not really waiting for him to argue with her, before prompting him to go.

By the time Daniel had looked back toward Charlotte trying to tempt her into joining him, she was set up with a small pamphlet and something beaded clasp firmly in her other hand.  “Sorry, love,” she excused herself, holding the beaded object up revealing it as a rosary and as if to say she was obligated to her prayer rather than keeping him company.  “Times they are a’changing.”

However, the noise of the shower had barely begun before she found her mind trailing away from her nightly prayer.  It was the same plea night after night calling out to whatever patron saint she could think of or begging the Virgin Mary for favor with no response.  Her exhaustion and months and months of pining for Daniel left her mind wandering from her Hail Marys to the hot spray of water and warm body just feet from where she sat.  Fifty-some novenas since Daniel had left, and not an ounce of favor amongst the sainthood… but Daniel walking back into her life felt like the answer to every last prayer. 

Daniel’s smile stayed in place. The joy he got from the questions was obvious; he was far too enthralled with Charlotte, and a part of him wondered how much deeper he could dig this hole he was getting the both of them into. He wasn’t on the right side of the law, and that alone was enough to spell disaster for the both of them. Even if he acted on what he thought he felt, there was no reason to believe it was reciprocated. Nevertheless, a good time was what he was there for – and one day he’d go down in a gun fight before he allowed anyone to put him behind bars. In a way, he knew it connected him and Charlotte. She’d rather die as well then go in metaphorical chains back to her “Alexander.” “Definitely a daddy’s girl,” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her approach the horses.

“Honor ain’t always the same honor yer thinkin’ of,” he pointed out to Charlotte, raising an eyebrow as she went for the tall brown gelding. “Stole him from a sheriff out past Mexico. Prettiest damn horse they had in the stable.” He gave a half smile when she mentioned not wanting to name the horse, before he just nodded as she spoke. “Right. Them housewives are real good at horse racin’,” he joked, taking his hat off and setting it down on a saddle. 

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to get some of the dust out. It was probably time for a haircut, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that yet. Daniel picked up another saddle, bringing it over to the horse and tossing it onto its back. The horse did little but shift its weight, and Daniel looked over at Charlotte, waiting for her to come closer. “Let me show ya how this is done. Now, if we’re ambushed by god knows what, yer only gonna get about ten seconds to tack this guy up. Y’don’t want it loose – you’ll go flyin’ off the minute he takes off into’a gallop.” 

Daniel took her hand, placing himself behind her as he looked down over her shoulder, “Y’take this right here, loop it through the hook. S’called a girth,” he moved her hand with his, pulling on the girth to tighten it around the horse. “See – they like to puff out their bellies, so when they release their breath, s’looser on ‘em. That’s just cause they’re stubborn – it ain’t hurtin’ them.” He tugged it again, tightening it once more. “Then y’pull it through this here buckle, ‘n make sure it’s good ‘n tight. Then th’last thing yer gonna do is tie this on the same buckle. ‘N then y’drop the stirrups. Once you ride ‘em, you can put ‘em to a good length for ya. Ya won’t ever have to worry about fixin’ them again. So that when y’can swing on, grab the horn of the saddle and pull yourself up. Y’ain’t gonna hurt him. He can handle the tug, ‘n if the saddle is on right, it ain’t gonna go nowhere.” He released her hand after placing it against the horse’s shoulder, resting his cheek against the side of her head, “Then you’re all ready t’go.”

Charlotte turned on her heel when he backed his belief she was a daddy’s girl and took a few steps toward the horses backwards, her eyes locked on his.  “Well, sir, if I’m such a daddy’s girl then explain to me why I’m stuck out here slumming it with you ‘til you get me the hell out of dodge instead of running home in tears to my daddy?” she challenged, turning on her heel again and walking toward the horses.  

When Daniel corrected her about her misguided use of the phrase, Charlotte paused and looked up at him, a glint of curiosity hinting itself behind her eyes. “What does honor mean to you then?” she questioned. 

Charlotte watched the man lop the saddle onto the horses back, something in the back of her mind marking the ease with which he had done so.  It was fairly likely the saddle weighed about as much as she did--she wasn’t a big woman.  She took his silent direction and came over to where Daniel was standing, listening in silence instead of mouthing off for once in her life. 

The woman almost flinched when he grabbed her hand, but she didn’t protest. She made a mental note of what he was explaining to her, hoping she’d be able to do it herself if the time ever came. She had been listening intently enough that she hadn’t noticed her body easing backward slightly until her back rest flush against his chest, her head just below Daniel’s.  She pressed her hand against the horse’s shoulder wondering if some sort of magical connection with the animal was supposed to occur when she felt the weight of his cheek resting against her head, which in turn only made her realize how close she was to the man.  It made her excited, made her heart knock hard against her chest.

Daniel wrapped his hands around Charlotte’s, watching her features as she begged for some kind of promise. What hope could he give her? She was British, he was American. Their love story had been doomed from the starter. Either way, marrying her in London would only put her on a list to get back to the United States. Immigration was rough, despite how open it was to Great Britain. The most were allowed to enter the US from London, but even then it was a gamble that Daniel wasn’t sure he even had enough to bet on. 

“I promise…that I will do everything I can to make it home to you,” he said slowly, like that was the only thing keeping him sane during the war. Their planes had been battered, the battalions picked off by German anti-air. Hearing the distress calls of the soldiers patching through on their radio was sickening enough. “And whether that home is New York or London…I’ll do my best,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to their joined hands before he released them. He gave a lopsided grin, “Oh – you are my sweetheart,” he teased, flashing her a wink before he sat back against the metal headboard of the cot, making room for Charlotte to sit beside him. 

He picked up the picture – the portrait of Charlotte all done up and stunning. Daniel cleared his throat, running his finger over Charlotte’s face in the picture, “You know you’re the damn near prettiest woman I’ve ever met, right?” he said slowly, letting out the breath he’d been holding as he turned to look at her. He ran the back of his hand down her soft cheek, wondering how long they had until the war or life simply drew them apart. He couldn’t imagine going home; marrying someone else and carrying on with his life like he had never met Charlotte out in Europe. What kind of life would he be living if that were the case?

The letter made him raise an eyebrow, and he tried not to laugh at the look on her face. Instead, Daniel just gave a small nod, moving to set the letter down in his bag instead. The record made him pause, turning it over to see her perfect handwriting on the front of it. He only looked over as she began to talk, faster and faster until she was sending out an apology instead. “Hey – Hey,” his voice got slightly more firm, putting his fingers against her chin and turning her face towards him. “It’s okay,” he smiled, pulling her closer so he could fit her on his lap, brushing his thumb over her cheek, “I love it. I do. They got record players somewhere – I’ll find one. If this isn’t the best Christmas I’ve had in a while, I don’t know what is,” he grinned. Daniel put the record down as well, pulling her closer, “How long do I have you for?”

Charlotte nodded as Daniel made his promise to her, and for the moment she was satisfied because she knew given the circumstances it was the best he could do.  “Even if this doesn’t work out,” Charlotte responded quietly, referring to their little romance, “I’m going to want to know you’re okay when the war ends.  I need to.”  She was bold enough to steal a quick kiss from his lips before he let go of her hands.  

“You probably say that to all the girls,” she protested, the color in her cheeks rising as she looked away from Daniel.  Charlotte caught his motion for her to join him at the head of the bed from the corner of her eye.  She settled in and leaned heavily against his side wanting to soak up every moment she could with the man. 

When the man mentioned how pretty he found her, Charlotte looked up at him.  She held stock still as he stroked the back of his hand against her cheek feeling her heart swell a bit at the long overdue gratification for all the nights she’d thought about his touch but been unable to feel it.  “Dixie helped me with all that,” she explained, pointing at the hair and overall presentation of herself in the picture.  “I can’t do all that on my own.” 

Charlotte clearly hadn’t factored running into Daniel directly when she had written him a rather forward and considerably naughty letter.  To say the woman was grateful he was willing to put off reading the letter for another day would be putting it mildly. 

The quick paced rambling was put to an end the moment Daniel took hold of Charlotte.  She calmed instantly as her eyes locked with his as he told her it was okay.  Charlotte slid into his lap when pulled her closer, and she rest her head against his shoulder for a moment.  “Someday the record player will be a moot point, any time you want to hear a song I’ll simply sing it to you, that easy,” she promised, though there was a bit of sadness that even such a simple task seemed like a lofty vow.  

“Ya daddy’s little girl then?” Daniel shot back, raising an eyebrow simply to be sassy as she continued to speak. Her face spoke volumes, far more than she had as she tried to fight her laughter. Daniel’s smirk was evident at the mental picture he’d painted for her, unashamed after it all. It was still funny to him. “Lawless,” he drawled, echoing her sentiment after a moment. “I suppose. We have our own laws. Take what we want from those who don’t want to share,” he gave a lopsided smile, “And kill those who get in our way, darlin’.” Daniel had no qualms about most of this, already certain Charlotte wasn’t going to go to the law any time soon. 

“You want me to teach you?” he grinned at the thought, already picturing the look on all the men’s faces as he taught the woman to shoot. Sure, he knew plenty of female gunslingers, and plenty of female shooters, but little Charlotte? That was something he had to see for himself of course. “Fine. Reckon I can teach ya. We can start tomorrow. Bright ‘n early with some cans.”

Daniel hummed a little, leaning back to rest on his palms. “Y’know, your hankerin’ t’die ain’t brave. I ain’t too sure what you’re tryin’ to accomplish by offin’ yourself at the first chance y’get. Maybe it ain’t about bein’ brave, but it sure ain’t gonna prove anything to anyone else. You’d just make Alexander’s job a helluva lot easier. ‘N lettin’ him win seems like it’s the last thing y’wanna do,” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “And I already told ya, none of us here are gonna do ya the favor of helpin’ ya out, too. We’d rather take ya t’the train station instead,” he looked away, instead looking back towards the stream where they’d came from. 

He waited for her to continue, though when she stopped, he didn’t press her words. Daniel stood up as well, brushing the dust off of his pants as he headed back towards their makeshift camp. “Well, I ain’t too sure what y’can do. How good are ya at horse racin’?” he asked curiously, making his way towards his horse. Daniel couldn’t remember if he’d offered one to Charlotte yet, motioning towards the few extra horses they had. “Them there are nobodies at the moment. The grey one is a mare, the black, the palo, ‘n the brown ‘r geldings.” He gave a slight smile, “If you’re gonna be with us, might as well use on of them there horses. If ya fancy one, I’ll show ya how t’tack ‘em up. I like to think the horse picks you, not the other way around. Go choose one ‘n call it what you like.”

The look Charlotte sent Daniel’s way when he asked if she was a daddy’s girl was unamused and annoyed at best. The woman couldn’t help but wonder what she was supposed to do with the assertion. Daniel was certainly willing to be vocal about how ornery he found the woman, and that was when she recently owed him her life. She almost smiled at the thought of what he might have called her if he knew how surly she was with her father in the face of their cumulative fights and unhappiness. With her family the blow to her initial captor’s face, the refusal to speak, the name calling and subsequent kicking and screaming were nothing. With her family Charlotte’s behavior was another animal altogether. “What do you think?” she questioned in return slowly turning the question back over to him.

Charlotte kept her eyes on the man’s smile. She found it sly, almost playful and it kindled a little fire in her chest. After placing her new hat back on her head, she clasped her hands behind her back and tilted her head to watch Daniel from the corners of her eyes as she slowly circled him. “Lawless,” she confirmed again, the word dripping from her lips and curling them into a smile. “Or, then again, maybe not… What’s that old cliché? Honor amongst thieves?” Charlotte paused for a moment, the coy little expression on her face receding. She looked at Daniel directly, dressed up and far from home. She wasn’t one of them, wasn’t like Daniel, but she wasn’t like anyone where she had come from either. Her face stoned over slightly, her mood effectively dampened by the sensation of being alone.

“Yes, I would like for you to teach me,” she answered quietly. The voice was automatic, polite and soft. Her eyes were still staring out at nothing from the moment before, her mind too preoccupied with the thought of being alone to care much about what she looked at in the moment. Charlotte straightened herself after a moment, looking off toward the dim glow of the camp fire. “Well, won’t that be something…”

“Never claimed to be brave, did I?” she asked. Charlotte looked back at the man, locking eyes with him. It was as honest as she could stand to be with the man, with any living thing, when she told him, “You said I could go back to town if I wanted? But I’m not, and it’s not just because I’m biding my time here ‘til you’re willing to send me back. I’m hiding, and hiding ain’t ever been brave. It’s not about brave. It’s about being too scared of the way I know I’ll suffer.” She shrugged her shoulders, pulling her gaze away from him before adding, “He doesn’t win if I take away all the satisfaction, now does he?”

Charlotte did not want to admit that she was perhaps just as scared of what might await her after disembarking from a train. Yes, it was the better option, she couldn’t argue that, but it still frightened her. She felt like she would suffocate if she went back home, even if Alexander was eliminated from the equation, if he had never entered her life in the first place. Who was to say it would be different in any other town the New World had to offer her. Her eyes flickered from Daniel to the stream to the untouched wild around them. It was the first time she could remember feeling like she could actual fucking breathe. Charlotte didn’t welcome the idea of giving that up. She was about to apologize for fighting Daniel every step of the way before he shifted from his position.

Daniel gave Charlotte a half amused look, “I just said that,” he reminded her, knowing full well his only back up was gone. Almost like he’d never planned on coming back. The Kromer couldn’t blame the angel for that, either. “Because you know every angel in existence, don’t you?” he mused, pointing out the fact just to be an asshole about it. There wasn’t time for petty arguments like this one could turn into, but they were good at this, anyway. “Demons aren’t well liked even among those bound to Hell.” 

Daniel set his coffee down, giving Charlotte a look when she went back on what she had offered just moments before. He hadn’t meant it like that, but he could tell how she’d taken his words. Maybe it was better if she had the idea in her head that she was now rejecting him, but Daniel was far from nice about things. “You know that’s not what I meant. But okay then, don’t worry about it.” He furrowed his eyebrows, not looking forward to going to his boarded up house. He’d already mentioned having to break into it, which meant he’d spent the next few hours fixing the door he’d broken down. Life was a dream in Camden. 

The hunter looked at his hand, turning it over to look at his scarred up palm. There were zigzagging lines going back and forth, like a mass that hadn’t done anything but heal and get cut repeatedly. “There were fifteen vampires when I got there. I knew what I was getting into, I just wasn’t afraid to die,” he shrugged his shoulders, wondering when Charlotte had also gotten to that point. He knew she had – but they’d found each other once more, and if her reason to want to live was him, then he could do the same. She was the only thing he loved; there were none like her. “I told Ezra I had to do this. This vampire killed my mom. Used her fucking credit card because she knew I’d be there in a heartbeat. It was set up for me – and I walked in anyway.”

It hadn’t been Daniel’s greatest plan, but it’d been his only plan. There was no getting around the coven. They’d been there, waiting. “The sire’s name was Lydia. I learned that later. She was from the 1700′s, had to have been. She’d turned all these people into her fucking slaves. Vampires that only knew death and whatever else they had come across in their life. She knew I’d come. Turns out the whole thing hadn’t even been her plan. I took out eight of her vampires before the demon stepped in. Didn’t expect him.” Daniel glanced at Charlotte, wondering if he should continue or not. Either way, the Kromer was almost done, and he’d hoped it’d explain his desire for vengeance better than anything else would. “He told them to get as much information out as possible, then kill me. That was it. But they did it…vampire blood heals you. You ingest it, you’re healed in a couple of minutes. You die with it in your blood, you turn. And that requires something like…a shot to the head, or your heart ripped from your chest.”

Daniel grimaced before he picked up his coffee, humming, “So each time they did something, they’d heal me. Scars don’t heal, though. Everything turned into a scar. From the fucking K they carved into the back of my shoulder to the one on my chest, it’s there. They wanted to turn me until they realized I had no soul. I wasn’t worth anything without. Guess that’s what saved my life. I don’t know how long I was there. Long enough that my fucking father tried to help – but he’s dead. The demon, Aaron, made sure I knew that. Ezra showed up in time, though. Against Heaven’s orders, is what he’d tell me. No interference in a mortal’s life and dealings with Hell. He let me do it. Killed him with the blade he gave me. So now I’m here, because Lydia fled here. And I’m going to find her, and I’m going to fucking kill her with this blade Ezra gave me, and it’s going to fucking hurt.”

Charlotte met Daniel’s look in her peripheral with cut eyes. “I know the ones in Camden,” she responded, “and I know what they think of me. Even Ezra doesn’t like like me, even if he was here and able to help us.”  She kept her gaze on Daniel as he commented about demons and their supposed lack of popularity. Charlotte was well aware demons were always popular amongst one another, Ashton had made that clear over time, but she knew better to trust her ever-failing luck with any other associates of hell. “So are you proposing an alliance with something other than an angel, or pointing out we’re on our own if we go through with this?”

An incredibly fickle temper prompted Charlotte to lash out at Daniel that she didn’t care how he meant it, but it would have been pointless. It would have thrown the two of them into another sparring match that neither had the time for at the moment. Best case scenario, they’d have a long and happy life to throw jabs and bicker at one another during. Worst case, and much more likely, such an argument would consume the majority of the time the two had together. Charlotte was able to swallow the urge to start the fight, but the sting of the perceived rejection wasn’t shaken so easily.

Charlotte stood in front of Daniel, stock still even as he told his story with her arms crossed and her knuckles pressed flush against her lips. She lectured him internally for his stupid and reckless choices, all things she was sure didn’t need to be spoken, none of them any worse than what he must have thought to himself. She didn’t want to think of the sheer strength and rage somewhere under Daniel’s skin that had made him capable of taking out eight vampires all against him at once. He’d never raised so much as a finger to her. If their lives weren’t in such ruins she might have been able to forget who and what he was for a moment.

Her mind wandered from the store for a few moments wondering what sort of secrets or information they had wanted to extract from the hunter, her hunter. Information about their demi-godlike lineage, or information about the whereabouts of the rest of his family. Some of this was information Charlotte knew thanks to her proximity to Daniel and a few other members of the hunting family, information she doubted she’d be able to keep to herself the way she crumbled so easily when faced with pain. She wondered briefly why he had never mentioned the healing properties of the blood.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Charlotte responded quietly. She knew the relationship between the two had been extremely strained at best, but loss was loss. She had more questions than she thought she would have. Was Lydia alone now, or had he crossed more of her underlings? In a city like Camden she knew it was likely Lydia had plenty of wayward souls to choose from. Charlotte instantly decided it was too dangerous to be seen somewhere with Daniel, if they hadn’t been already, her paranoia kicking in full force and fast. But he still hadn’t answered her question. It was enough to push her past the precipice she had been standing at. Charlotte lifted a hand, the side of her thumb running over the scar tissue at his temple, eyes set intently on the raised skin. “What did he do to you?” she asked again.

Daniel took her words with a grain of salt for the time being. Anyone he didn’t know ranked very, very low on his list of people he gave a shit about. There were those he was willing to go the extra mile for, and this boy was not one of them. Even if Charlotte liked him. In fact, the Kromer wondered if she just felt sorry for him or if there was an actual sense of loyalty. He wasn’t going to question it at the moment, and instead dropped the subject of nameless other human.

“Yes,” he answered, somewhat slowly. “I was with Ezra, back in the States. He left here with me; came back to…I don’t know. He had promised me that he’d watch my back. Call it a favor for a really old friend of mine. Before I met you. She was uhm…a guardian angel,” he clarified, giving a half smile as he remembered her. “She left before I could thank her. Guardian angels were humans once, y’know that?” he found something odd in the idea of redemption for a human. To become an angel, though not a fully fledged one, was not exactly enticing to someone like him. He wasn’t sure how anyone could do it, really. “So it was…good. For a little bit.”

Nothing was ever good. Daniel would rather have Charlotte believe he was happy outside of Camden, but nothing had ever been the same. He had no soul; a hollow, empty feeling in his chest that had been left behind back in Camden with Charlotte. “I’ll uhm…think about it,” he said finally, unsure if she would still want him around with the fact that he wasn’t going to be in the place very much at all. “I’m hardly here, Charlotte,” he warned, looking at his mug yet again. “I can’t sleep at night. I get four hours in the middle of the day every now and then. I’m out and back and forth until the bleeding stops. If you’re serious I’ll…you know I would,” he ended it with that, leaving the decision ultimately up to her. He’d feel better being with her, but would he really be with her? Daniel had no idea what her schedule was like, and his hunt was far from over. His revenge was going to be precise and drawn out. It was nothing he could accomplish in a night. 

Daniel wasn’t sure why Charlotte now refused to come near him, and he managed to make a joke about it, “It’s the scar, huh? Ain’t as pretty as usual?” he offered, leaning back in the chair and keeping her gaze. “I know – ‘n you know that you’ll always have me, right? I just…Ezra ain’t here and I haven’t been able to get a hold of him. But we did it before – killed a demon. Son of a bitch was holed up in New Orleans. And better yet, I wasn’t even there for him.” Daniel finished off the coffee again, setting the mug down and pushing it away. 

“He’s dead. But the vampires aren’t. And fuck, Charlotte. What happened down there was a shit show. I don’t know if it’ll happen again unless I take care of them all.”

The Kromer took a risk at looking her again, unsure what questions she might have. He pointed back to his scar, “Demon of wrath – he was an asshole.”

Charlotte’s face was focused as he answered her question, her brows drawn together slightly. She handed him a towel having noticed she just poured coffee directly onto his hand, her eyes scanning his skin for any hint of burns or blisters. He seemed fine. “Ezra isn’t here, Daniel,” she responded quietly. It wasn’t a warning or a reminder, and it didn’t come out as so. Instead, her tone of voice sounded fearful and cornered. Ezra wasn’t there for her, and neither was anyone aligned God or powerful enough to do the job that would help her.

The look on Charlotte’s face steeled when he mentioned the guardian angel, a defensive look flickering in them from somewhere in the back of her mind. “The angels aren’t on my side, Daniel,” she said quietly “They’d sooner see me dead than their former sister.” Charlotte looked confident in her conviction, the fact had been said to her fact often enough.

Daniel could have tried to convince Charlotte his life in the Untied States was better for the next hour, but she wouldn’t believe him. He was changed since he had lost his soul. He could have lived in some vampire-less paradise and still feel his job wasn’t yet done and still feel that empty space where the core of his existence had been ripped out. She felt suddenly as if something precious had been ripped from her own chest all over again, her heart aching for Daniel’s lighthearted smile or a laugh. She turned away from him for a moment trying not to let him see that she felt so affected by the lie.

She glanced back at him, her expression clearly reading the sharp sting of rejection. Charlotte didn’t keep her gaze on him long knowing he would read the expression in an instant. For a moment she almost offered an argument, a small plea to convince him to stay: I could stop the bleeding, patch you up and send you back out. It wasn’t true. Instead she took in a deep breath, mentally resetting herself, her body becoming rigid. “No,” she said sternly, her voice cutting back into the conversation before she turned and looked at him again, a cold and empty look from before she had ever gotten to know him, before he’d broken through the tough exterior. “I would just be a distraction.”

Charlotte was pretty sure Daniel was beckoning her closer, but she stayed still as ever for a few breathes. “Still handsome,” she conceded quietly. She nodded her head even though it felt like she hadn’t had Daniel for a long time, for years. But that didn’t stop her from believing him now. She took the few steps to cross the space between them slowly, but didn’t make it quite all the way to him. She looked to the side of him, hesitant and clenched; gun shy with a finger on the trigger clearly longing.

It felt for a moment that Daniel was bragging some accomplishment to Charlotte. She didn’t know what to do for a moment, it felt like unfamiliar territory. Her eyes flickered from him to one random spot in the room to another. She felt the exhaustion hit her in a new wave as she tried to keep up with what he was telling her. It was getting harder and harder to put off sleeping, but she knew she had to muscle down another night with Daniel in the house. Her eyes were shut and she was leaning against the edge of the table again, her hands white knuckling the edge of it. “How many are there?” she asked. She couldn’t bring her suspicions about Alexander to his attention, especially since they were still only suspicions at this point.

Daniel managed a barely there smile at the idea of Margaret. All parents thought their children had brought Hell with them. It was a sobering thought for their conversation, but the Kromer wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He blinked a few times as he turned to look at Charlotte, the touch surprising him. He wasn’t expecting her to say this about the new guy, but it wasn’t about to change Daniel’s mind. “He’ll thank you later; when he’s not in Hell,” he said finally, figuring he wouldn’t pursue if Charlotte got to the other guy first. But if Daniel found him? He’d kill him.

He couldn’t even remember if he’d had his phone when she was possibly in a situation to call him. His life was messy back in the states, and he was going to have to explain that here soon. The topic of her soul got Daniel’s focus once more, raising an eyebrow as he remembered Ashton. Ah, Ashton. He’d renewed the demon’s life support subscription before he’d left, an easier time, at least. The Kromer liked to remember things like that, but they’d all but faded back into his memory like nothing. “Huh. Soul tracking…I should’ve known that was a thing,” he mused, looking at his empty coffee mug before Charlotte seemed to read his mind. He blinked as the coffee missed its mark, the hot liquid splashing onto his hand. It didn’t seem to even phase him, and he glanced at his hand, licking off the spilled coffee before wiping it on his shirt. Real classy. 

“Yes, kill her,” he repeated, though the Kromer only had a vague idea on how to do so. He wasn’t an expert, but long conversations with an angel managed to give him a few tips and tricks. Daniel watched Charlotte turn from him, seemingly thinking over what he had offered. Her question made him furrow his eyebrows, “Staying where? Here?” he asked, figuring that was what she had meant. He was obviously staying in Camden for the time being. His month had gone by too quickly, but now he was sure that the days were going to drag while he stressed over Charlotte’s well being.

Daniel rested his chin in his hand, staring forward and at the far end of the table. He was obviously considering it, but her final question had him meeting her gaze once more. He knew the difference. The sad, painful feeling of loving someone, but not enough to give all of themselves over. “You always have been,” he said finally, keeping his gaze on hers even as he finished talking. To him, it seemed like so little of her had changed. While there were the obvious differences, he knew his Charlotte was in there. The snark and the love was there, but it was buried. Much like his own personality. Maybe he’d find it, somewhere with Charlotte. 

“I ain’t got a lot left, Char,” he said quietly, rubbing his hand over his face, “What I’ve done…it’s not…nothin’ a Kromer ever should have done. And this coven I’m after…been after them for years.”

Charlotte personally thought that the likelihood of her being thanked later was nonexistent. If ideas had been put into her head by those around her, she would most likely see him in hell with her. A few people in town were apt to tell her that hell was what awaited her and what she deserved every chance they got. She didn’t express it, though, it wasn’t worth an argument even if she believed him. “He understands in part what disobeying Evangeline meant,” Charlotte replied quietly, hinting there was some sort of tangible or physical punishment that had come with her refusal to act. “And he won’t stand in my way because of it. He does what she says, but there’s loyalty between the two of us. And whether it’s me, Evangeline, or someone else… I want him to live.”

Charlotte shrugged her shoulders slightly. Soul tracking didn’t seem to really cover it for her. Evangeline had managed to sink her claws into Charlotte’s mind. It went beyond seeking her out, it controlled her actions, it overrode her consciousness. Fear began to twist her the pit of her stomach. Had she lost time before that she didn’t know about under Evangeline’s influence? For all she knew Evangeline could slip back under her skin that night, snuff Daniel out as he slept. His comment about killing Evangeline had pulled her out of that fearful train of thought.

“Is that even possible?” she whispered, her eyes narrowing on Daniel’s face. If it was, it was practically suicidal. She was human, a weak one at that, and Daniel was a demi-god of the wind and see, hero of men, and women--not a girl guy thing.

“If you wanted,” she replied, the offer sounding more reserved and quiet than the first time, as if she expected him to laugh at it or shoot the idea down.

There was a flicker of understanding in Charlotte’s eyes as she listened to Daniel’s answer. She gave a small nod, a fat little tear sitting in the corner of each eye. She didn’t move though, just stood there in front of him staring back at him with an obvious sense of longing in her eyes. This was what she’d become over the past three years, constantly wanting but scared into inaction. Every time she had failed to act, she felt a piece of her heart had become ice, her body following suit. The tips of her fingers twitched slightly, her mind screaming at her to move or touch or hold, but her body held completely still. Even the words she wanted to say were suddenly caught in her throat. He was inches away and felt she had been turned to stone.

Daniel’s irritation flared about having to repeat himself once more, taking a deep breath in through his nose and out so she couldn’t see how easy it was to piss him off. His grip never faltered on her hand, however, and he turned to look at her, “Yes, this. This,” he motioned to them then the room, “Everything about this fucking city. I can’t get it out of my fucking mind, Charlotte. It fuckin’ haunts me wherever I go. It’s…it’s what I fucking imagine hell to be, just more torture,” he mused, taking another sip from his coffee. There wasn’t much he wanted to know first. In fact, not knowing would’ve saved him more anger, but he couldn’t do that, not anymore. Ignoring something could be the difference between life and death, and he wasn’t ready to face that.

“Anything you wish to tell,” he finally answered her, looking down at his mug much like he was sure she was doing. Daniel wasn’t going to pry, but he needed to know what he was going to be up against. 

Her story kept him quiet. The Kromer’s gaze would land on her during certain parts, flickering away as anger rose to the surface. He was able to quell it fairly quickly, but only because there would be time to refocus his anger. His free hand ran over his face for a second, and he let out a the breath he was holding, processing everything she had said. “There’s another person?” he furrowed his eyebrows, thinking about what that could mean. Taking someone out; a frail human, if that’s what the guy was, would be simple enough for him. If he’d had more backup, that’d be something else. His frown curved a little more at the thought, but his attention was diverted back to Charlotte again as he squeezed her hand, “I ain’t gonna let you die,” he said finally. 

“I don’t…All of this fucking shit,” he breathed, taking his mug and finishing off the coffee. “Even if you’d called me I couldn’t of…fuck.” Daniel laughed, though it was void of any humor. “She’s going to find you – always will unless we kill her,” he said finally. There was no reason to beat around the bush at this point. “Hiding with me won’t work, either. I’m barely at the place. I never sold it. Boarded that fucking apartment up and left it. I had to break into my own house when I was back cause I gave the key to Daphne and she fucking lost it. Shocking. She swears she never misplaces anything.” Daniel picked at the table once more, simply out of habit of needing to do something.

Maybe the feelings section of the entire conversation was something Daniel was ready to skip over. Sure, he was sitting there holding her hand. She’d admitted not wanting to die because she’d found him. He was sure that he came across as apathetic, like her presence didn’t affect him. The Kromer always tried to be as calloused as he was raised to be, but Charlotte had found a place in his heart, and it couldn’t be carved out even if someone like Evangeline tried. “I’m…I’m glad I…no, that’s a fucking lie. I’m not glad that I came back, not even for a fucking second. But if it means that I’m…” he had no train of thought that made a since sense to him. Scatterbrained, Daniel instead turned his green eyes to meet her brown, “I love you. I always fucking have, you know that. If I can get you out, get you safe and….I will. Because you’re my Charlotte.”

Charlotte wasn’t sure if Daniel though he was concealing every hint of his anger, but she knew him well enough to be able to sense it in him even if he buried his aggression and emotion in the same moment he felt it. She could have apologized for asking for clarification, or defended her request for clarification, but it wouldn’t have helped anything. Instead, she looked at their hands together—a place his anger never managed to reach when he was touching her—and tried to think of something to say. “My mother used to say for all we know, the whole world is hell,” she commented quietly. It was the only thing she could think to say. “Although I think being tasked with raising me might have contributed to that theory.”

Daniel was listening, mostly to things she knew he didn’t want to hear, but he was listening. She hadn’t even cracked the surface if she was being honest. She was up against more deadly immortals in Camden than she had acquaintances or friends at this point, the majority of whom were powerless to help her even if that had felt an undying sense of loyalty toward her.

Her head bobbed slowly, confirming Evangeline’s newly recruited help. Charlotte could tell he was running a list of scenarios through his head, assessing threats, theorizing potential solutions. In an attempt to pull him out of it, she placed her free hand on the back of his hand. “Daniel,” she said quietly, trying to redirect his attention. She shook her head, a mixture of guilt and protectiveness in her eyes. “He’s not a threat. He was young too, it happened a lot like the way she found me. She sent me after him and he… He was so young. I couldn’t do it.” She bit her bottom lip and looked away. “I wanted to protect him and now he’s just as fucked as I am. He doesn’t see it, he thinks I did him a mercy…” The guilt and protectiveness had faded, replaced by anger and shame.

When she heard Daniel’s voice again, Charlotte looked back at him. He couldn’t seem to quite vocalize a full idea at first, and she didn’t blame him really. She had put a lot on him, and honestly wondered if she ought to let the rest wait until the next day, or the next whatever. She had no idea if he’d stay or if he planned to send someone else to her aid. It would still be making good on his promise if he did. She nodded slowly, knowing the powerless Daniel must have been feeling at the moment quite well herself. “I was going to call you, every time, once I got there… And I never made it far enough.”

“Ashton told me it’s my soul,” she responded when Daniel commented she’d always be found. “As long as I have a soul, she has a direct trace to me. I think that’s how she found me, and how I got back every time, but I don’t know. Whenever I try to remember… it’s all black.” She had gotten up and retrieved the pot of coffee. Both of their mugs needed attention at this point. Charlotte was pouring into Daniel’s mug when he suggested killing Evangeline. The color drained from Charlotte’s face at the suggestion, her eyes flickering to his face, the stream of coffee missing the mug by an inch or so. “Kill…her?”

“Shit,” she hissed below her breath noticing. Charlotte set the coffee pot down, turning away and pressing her fingers to her lips with her eyes shut, clearly trying to decide if she wanted to say something to Daniel or not. “Would you…” she began, her words selective, slow, and deliberate. She hadn’t opened her eyes yet but she had dropped her hand. “Would you considering staying here?”

Daniel turned his hand over to accept Charlotte’s, leaving the innocent table alone as he allowed their fingers to intertwine. He furrowed his eyebrows at her question, letting out a sigh, “I already thought about this, before.” He shrugged his shoulders haphazardly, releasing her hand when she stood up.

He waited until she took a seat once more, his hand still in the same place, waiting for her to take it once more. The Kromer let out a breath through his nose, wondering if he was going to have to pick and choose what was asked. That wouldn’t help their cause, however. It was like a hunt – but his own personal agenda was going to get in the way, and he wasn’t sure what could be pushed back. If he could do things at the same time, that’d be different. He could send Charlotte off on a plane to a house in Boston, one of his last stands. “Everything,” he mumbled, taking a sip of the coffee gratefully. “Routines, expectations…shit that had inaccuracies, stall points. Whatever you have. How did you try and leave before? I can’t even…I can’t even have someone whisk you away because of this damn place. If I’m getting you out of here, it has to be fuckin’ fool proof.” 

Charlotte watched Daniel’s fingers at play with her own rather than looking at his face. She wasn’t sure what he meant even still. It could have been a lot of things. What he’d say to her if he ever saw her again, if he could still love her after the way she had turned her back on the sound reason of leaving by his side, about the state he might find her in when he came back, whether or not she was worth the effort of trying to do what she should have let him do in the first place? She looked at him and shook her head, signaling she still didn’t understand. “This?” she asked quietly. She didn’t want to press him too hard to answer if he didn’t want to, though she itched with curiosity.

It took Charlotte a few moments to notice Daniel’s hand was still waiting on the table. She messed awkwardly with the things she had on the table, shutting her laptop, stacking it with the books, before his outstretched hand caught her eye. She moved her chair closer to him so that she wouldn’t have to lean so far across the table to reach him and strummed her fingertips across the rough skin of his palm. She wondered, now that she had made the physical contact with him, if she could force herself to stop. His hand wasn’t enough, she wanted to crawl into his lap, sink in against his chest, feel the tight pressure and head of his hands on her and his arms around her. But it was better to respect the boundaries the both of them would probably be tiptoeing around setting for the next who knew how long.

“Oh,” Charlotte mumbled, looking at Daniel as he drank his coffee. She didn’t really know what else to respond with since he had misinterpreted her question. Charlotte lacked the energy it would take to lie or withhold information from him the way she had in the past. And she didn’t want to anyway. “I more so meant to ask what you wanted to know first.” With her free hand, Charlotte lazily traced her pinky along the wide rim of her cup of coffee.

Charlotte wore a look of obvious shock at his last statement. If I’m getting you out of here… He was two years into a hunt, one she had honestly doubted he would abandon for anything, and potentially he still wouldn’t walk away from. And she hadn’t asked him to get her out of Camden, hadn’t outright asked him for help. She sat quietly for a few moments before decided where she ought to begin.

“The first time I tried to leave, you had been gone for four weeks,” she began quietly, settling into the story. “I wanted to go sooner, but I waited until Evangeline had an assignment for me out of of the country. When I landed I bought a ticket to the United States, the first flight there was room for me on and planned to find you somehow when I got there. Michael was going to send Diesel later. I don’t know how she found me, and I don’t remember how I got back to Camden any of the times I tried to run.” Charlotte paused for a moment curling her feet under her as the memory of her first punishment flashed into her mind, she felt the residual pain. “The first time, she whipped the bottom of my feet. I guess it has Biblical precedent, Proverbs and Leviticus, meant to keep someone who isn’t meant to leave from straying.”  She explained the second time, that led to the loss of Diesel, how she’d cut every credit card, phone line, and anything else that could track her before she left in an attempt to erase herself from the grid to no avail. The third time she explained had been pure instinct, a snap decision to cut and run with no forethought, preparation, or indicators to Evangeline. Charlotte did not mention her punishment for her third attempt at freedom, though she had paused in intervals for Daniel to ask questions, request more information as she had spoken to him.

It was easier now than before to understand Charlotte’s thought process. She had chosen this, he wasn’t at fault. Daniel could feel regret for many things, like maybe how he hadn’t thrown her over his shoulder and carried her away instead. He could’ve done that – she would’ve thanked him for it later. Instead, he was sitting at her dining room table three and half years later, no more closer to his goal than he had been when he’d left.

“Don’t say that. Maybe you will,” he said finally, picking at the wood now with his finger. Daniel lifted his gaze, as heavy as it was, settling on Charlotte’s features once more. “I already–” he cut off, remembering how she wanted to save the conversation for the morning. While his body was tired, his mind was racing. There would be little sleep for him, lest he wake up in the throes of another nightmare. Sleeping was a chore, and Daniel was almost sure, judging by the coffee in Charlotte’s hand, that it was the same for the woman. Staying up all night with her would not hurt, but avoiding any further questions would. “If I’m going to…if I’m going to try, Charlotte, I need to know everything.”

The look Charlotte gave Daniel in response was one of a gentle reprimand, partially because the realist in her knew holding onto false hope that she’d find Diesel was only hurting her in the end, and partially because he was picking at her kitchen table. She leaned forward, slipping her hand under his nervous fingers, tangling her fingers in with hers and stroking the backs of them with the pad of her thumb. 

“Already what?” she pressed quietly. 

Instead of beginning any sort of story or providing any sort of explanation Charlotte stared at Daniel for a few minutes. Finally, rather than speaking to him, she stood and padded over to her cabinet. Charlotte had to reach to a higher shelf to reach her mugs, one foot on the tips of her toes and one foot lifted off the ground from the strain of trying to reach so high. The soles of both feet were corded with thick, raised scar tissues wisping up around her ankles in pink, painful remnants of slices into her flesh. Her hand wrapped around a mug that she set in front of Daniel. 

Daniel took the offer for its face value, not commenting on it any further. He would see how she felt in the morning, when they decided if this was healthy or not. Or even probably, more likely. Their lives were tragic and dangerous; what good would come from this? Daniel wasn’t sure, nor was he sure if he was willing to find out if it meant Charlotte was in any more pain.

The story wasn’t surprising, but the sadness Daniel felt was. He could say time and time again how he didn’t care for the damn thing, but it had helped him sleep at night thinking there was one other protector that loved Charlotte just as fiercely as he did. It was another reason, however, that Daniel found he’d be searching for throughout his time in Camden. Though he doubted he’d ever find Diesel, at least he’d try. “I’m sorry,” he frowned, staring at the table once again. He was fixated on a single spot, finding it easier to stare than look around. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t have tried to come for him, bide her time here until he ultimately returned. He couldn’t fault her, however. “Of course she did. I don’t know if fuckin’ demons stoop as low as animal abuse, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Why did you try to follow me?”

Charlotte knew Daniel had never cared for Diesel. The dog hadn’t been particularly friendly or cuddly toward anyone but her, but it had been loyal and protective. She found Daniel’s apology to be genuine, though she felt badly that he was making it. “It isn’t your fault,” she responded quietly. “She was angry and when she learned doing something to me wasn’t deterring me, she took something instead.”

The fact that Daniel wasn’t looking at Charlotte felt like a small blessing. She might have cracked under the weight of his gaze, no doubt filled with pity. Charlotte wasn’t sure if pity was what she wanted from him. It wasn’t going to help her or make her feel better for him to feel badly. “I’ll probably ever find him,” Charlotte agreed quietly.

Her offer was dismissed almost as quickly as it had come, but Daniel stayed silent for a few more heartbeats, giving her the decency of acting like he was considering it. Of course he had a name, but he wasn’t dragging her into his own personal vendetta. It meant she would be an easy target, and he wasn’t about to put more on his list of revenge. “No,” he said finally, “I’ve been working at this for a while, but names don’t mean anything to vampires,” he murmured, tapping his fingers on the table. 

“I don’t need anymore help,” his tone was dismissive, despite the fact that his only help had been gone for two years as well. Daniel didn’t want to think about his failures and shortcomings for this hunt, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t faced with it each time he looked in a mirror. The hunt was his burden alone, and maybe he’d tell Charlotte about it once it was complete. He hoped it wouldn’t take him into Charlotte’s path, or vice versa. Demons were fickle, and Hell was even worse. He had no soul to lose; that was his only edge in the game that Hell liked to play.

The searchings on the screen only reminded Daniel that she had a dog. He didn’t necessarily forget, but once the mutt hadn’t showed up, it was easy for the man to dismiss the idea that he was ever there. 

“What happened to him?”

Charlotte nodded, accepting the answer she had honestly expected to get from him. She felt calmer now about his calling than she ever had before, even though she knew if he was two years into an operative it was probably much more dangerous than she could have anticipated. “Well, if you ever need stitches or your boots cleaned...” Was that an invitation for him to show up at her door another night? She wasn’t sure if she would mean it by the time he left tomorrow. Charlotte had no idea if he ever wanted to see her again after tonight. 

Daniel set the fork down, clasping his fingers together as he leaned on his elbows, resting them on the table. He watched her set everything up, wondering if she was humoring herself by writing a book. That’d be a good one. It almost reminded him of school work, but he wasn’t going to bother her about. He had a feeling that if she wanted to tell him, she would tell him. There was no sense in him prying about every single thing just yet. 

Her question was expected, but he thought she’d hold out longer than that. Daniel knew there was always a double standard when it came to their questioning. There was an expected obligation to answer, but there was also a stubbornness that meant any questions asked in return were ignored. The hunter only looked back down at his plate, pursing his lips. That was too long of a story, so he settled for the cliff notes version, “It was just a hunt that went wrong,” he said finally, the frown still on his face as he looked up at her. Daniel had expected more questions in the morning, but if she wished to dive in at the dinner table, he wasn’t sure how much he could tell. 

“It’s all I’ve done. All these years. I’ve been on this hunt for the past…two years,” he said finally, tapping the spot she had traced just a moment before. In fact, he preferred her gentle touch than his own, “There’s…a coven here. Part of one that I found back home. I’m not leaving until I kill all of them, the hard part is finding the original one who created the coven. Kill him, the rest is history,” he murmured, picking up the knife beside his plate and staring at it for a second, “One got lucky. Never happened again.”

He set the utensil down, instead heaving a sigh as he turned back towards her computer, glancing over the screen then looking at her features, “You make fun of these boxers, but you kept them for a reason, so now I get to laugh at you.”

Charlotte could feel Daniel’s watching eyes as she set up her work station. She wanted him to sleep, so most likely she’d end up dragging half of it into the bedroom with her if she managed to convince him to lay down for the night. She was careful to make sure she set the books down with their spines and titles facing away from him, knowing they would likely lead to a conversation she wanted to avoid for the time being. 

Out of curtesy for the fact that she’d declined to answer his questions quite yet, Charlotte didn’t press the issue, and waited quietly for Daniel to answer what he wanted to share. His answer didn’t give her any new information, if he’d been injured of course something had gone wrong. She wondered for a moment what sort of vampire he must have been up against that it was able to leave a permanent mark on him. The unfortunate vampire he’d come across tonight was dead before it even discovered Daniel’s presence. 

Her body tensed visibly when Daniel mentioned that the head of a coven of vampires lurked somewhere in Camden. She wondered if it could be Alexander, but as she thought about it it seemed unlikely. Alexander struck her as a cruel master who preferred the company on one vulnerable, dependent hostage and rooms stuffed with finery and opulence. Charlotte wondered if it was even fair to inform Daniel of her suspicions and fears when he was two years deep into a mission of his own. Would a fleeting suspicion hold a flame to several years of determination? 

“Do you have a name?” she asked, lifting her mug again and taking a long drink, but her eyes remained poised on him. She flicked he gaze to the knife in his hand for a brief moment. “There are people I could ask, people who might be able to help if you need it.”

“I told you, I never opened the drawer. For all I knew it was empty.”