Logan folded his arms over his chest, shooting his editor a disgusted glare. “What do you think it means?” he shot back. “It means I’m not writing for this newspaper anymore.”
Gordon Stewart was not a happy man. He scratched his sweaty forehead, an unlit cigar clutched between his teeth. In the 30 years he’d spent as news editor of The Clark County Beacon, he’d never had an investigative reporter with the talent Logan possessed. He’d never seen a reporter so determined and with so many sources, so to hear the man say he was walking away was like a kick in the groin.
“But why?” the portly editor wondered. “We not payin’ you enough or something?”
The pay was fine. Between the paper and the Council, Logan made quite the comfortable living. He just couldn’t handle dealing with the endless assignments and how they would interfere with his other job. When Logan first joined the Beacon, he did so looking to assist his Watcherly duties.
Now, the paper was getting in the way of everything else. And while he was busy trying to keep track of Cory Blanchard, his mother was out killing anyone and everyone – including Detective Michaela Starnes’ husband.
Logan might as well have had blood on his hands because of the whole thing. Rupert Giles sent him to Las Vegas to watch Samantha and Cory, because of the Order of Zeus. Now, Cory was missing, Samantha was psycho and to Logan’s knowledge, at least five people needlessly died in the Slayer’s wake.
And oh yeah, someone let the cat out of the bag and told the whole world vampires and demons were real. That, along with vampires working for the United States government, was going over real well.
“You have any idea what’s going on out there, Gordon?” Logan asked, his voice weary and his eyes bloodshot. He hadn’t shaved in a little over a week, and he doubted he’d have the energy to pick up a razor any time soon.
“I watched a vampire talk to a detective who just lost her husband to one of the most gruesome murders I’ve ever heard about. I didn’t see Drew Starnes’ body, and from what I heard, I’m glad I didn’t. I can think of better things to do than look at some guy with his chest split open and his heart sitting on the desk.
“People are in a panic, because the government’s been capturing and working with vampires and demons. We’ve got Slayers out there fighting them all every night, and there aren’t enough of them. And I can’t write about them, because until now the whole vampire thing was a secret, and I had to look through doctored police reports in researching things.”
Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and removing his glasses. It was an annoying habit, one he picked up from Rupert, and as often as Logan swore he’d break it, he hadn’t yet.
“I can’t do this anymore, Gordon. I think I’m better off if I simply concentrate on being a Watcher. This undercover job is doing nothing for me.”
Gordon nodded, actually knowing of what Logan spoke. It wasn’t something he talked about often, but considering who told him several months back to give Logan this job, the revelations didn’t surprise him.
“You know why I gave you this job?” Gordon mused, rubbing his moustache. “Johnathan Saunderson referred me to you. Said you were the brightest journalistic mind he’d ever seen. I don’t respect the opinions of others when it comes to who I should or shouldn’t hire, but I take Saunderson’s word as gospel.
“If he said you were good enough, then goddammit, you were good enough.”
Gordon sighed, thinking of his old friend. He never shared Johnathan’s love for the supernatural, but Gordon never quelled his friend’s desire on the subject. Considering Logan came with his official seal of approval made hiring him easy – and losing him one of the hardest things Gordon ever had to deal with professionally.
“So I know all about what you’re talking about. Johnathan used to tell me I needed to do an investigative series on monsters. The fact that they exist, what they are, what they do, how to stop them … that sort of thing.
“My guess? He wanted you to write it.”
Logan took in a deep breath, standing his ground. He wasn’t going to let Gordon guilt-trip him into staying. Though it was somewhat touching to know his journalistic mentor – and the man who introduced him to this crazy, dangerous world – thought highly enough of him to get him this job, the Watcher was resolute.
“I appreciate that, sir,” Logan replied, his voice cracking a little. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get the image of a stone-faced Michaela Starnes out of his head, that emptiness in her eyes. A level of despair so deep not even tears could’ve filled it – Logan had seen some scary things in his day, and that ranked pretty high.
“But I feel I can better serve the Council right now.”
“Really,” Gordon said, pausing to light his cigar. He took a long puff, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He was going to have a hell of a time filling Logan’s position. The newspaper business was in dire straights as it was, and given the hoopla surrounding the revelation of monsters, he wasn’t sure anyone would even want the gig.
“You sure I can’t talk you out of it?” the editor pleaded. “There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”
Logan shook his head. “I’m sorry, Gordon. My mind’s made up.”
Gordon sighed and put out his half—smoke cigar. Suddenly, he no longer had the taste for it. Besides, he was fairly certain smoking wasn’t allowed in the building – though that never stopped the head of the advertising department from lighting up the occasional joint on his lunch break in the men’s room.
“It was a pleasure working with you, then, Logan,” Gordon said he stood, offering his hand. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to write a final farewell piece, sort of address the readers however you see fit. I’ll even see to it we get you an extra month’s pay.”
Logan nodded, shaking his editor’s hand. In a way, Gordon was Logan’s friend and the Watcher wasn’t entirely glad to be gone. The people who worked at the Beacon were good, by and large, and it was a shame what some of them had to deal with now.
But Logan couldn’t worry about that. He needed to help the Council, and do whatever he could to salvage the clusterfuck Samantha Blanchard’s situation had become.
“Thank you, Gordon,” Logan said before leaving his former editor’s office, wiping off a tear as he left the building. He’d clean out his office later; for now, the Watcher needed time to clear his head. He was in for a long road, regardless of what Rupert told him to do.
But no matter what, Logan wanted to make sure Samantha didn’t kill anyone else. Impossible as that sounded.