The Only Decent Thing
Grace had bought a couple of dozen books for Cory, along with a handheld video game and some separate cartridges to go with it, things to keep him occupied and quiet, after she removed him from Child Protective Services' care.
She might know jack about child-rearing and care even less, but she knew you had to keep kids busy or else they got loud and whiny. The last thing she'd needed at the start of this caper was for someone to start questioning why she had a seven-year-old boy in her hotel suite with her.
She started packing up the stuff she'd bought for the kid into a army duffel bag, along with his new extra clothes and two pairs of top-shelf shoes. Cory was in the bathroom or some damn thing, probably brushing his teeth since it was past ten. Bedtime for little guys like him. The vampire checked under the bed, found a small shirt and stuffed it into the bag, then closed it up.
"Hey, little dude, you didn't fall in and drown, did ya?" she asked, knocking lightly on the closed bathroom door. "Come on out, huh? I need to talk to you about somethin'."
Cory had just finished brushing his teeth – a habit he hated but did anyway after seeing little Jenny lose three teeth in two days while he stayed at Child Protective Services – and opened the door with a tentative smile. He didn’t really know Grace that well, but she seemed nice enough.
She broke him out of that building with the busy adults and the mean kids, and he was thankful for that. But the books and the Nintendo DS? Even if Grace had moments where she seemed really scary, she bought him toys.
So she was good.
“Do you know where mommy is?” Cory asked, though he wasn’t quite as sad about it as he’d been in weeks and months past. He was almost used to not being with his mother, instead being tossed around from person to person.
"We're going to see your mom right now, actually," Grace said, pointing towards the packed duffel bag and making sure to avoid the bathroom mirror. No need for the kid to freak out because she didn't have a reflection. "Your new mom, I mean. That's why I came to get you, you're gonna go to a new home with a really nice family and they're gonna take care of you."
The idea had come to her while she was on the way back from dispatching Epimetheus, feeling the damned scar twinge intermittently on her way up in the elevator. And there was a certain justice to it, even a certain beauty, when you thought about it. The kid needed someone to look after him, and the mothering sort she was not. And to keep him out of the hands of the Cult, that would require an uninvolved party in any of that shit.
"You've eaten, haven't you? Did you need a sandwich before we go? I don't want your new people to think I didn't feed you."
Cory nodded as he glanced at the duffel bag. “I ate a little while ago,” he said, wondering who he was going to be seeing now. For six years, all he knew was that Melinda Watkins was his mother and Gerald Watkins was his father. Then, Samantha Blanchard was his mother. Then he wound up in some big building with a bunch of other kids who didn’t like him.
So what now?
Cory didn’t mind Grace, and if he wound up staying with her, he figured it wouldn’t have been too bad. She fed him, she gave him toys … even if there was something a little odd about her, she was nice enough.
So if she said this new family would take care of him, Cory believed her.
"All right, we can go in a few minutes, then," the vampire said. "Just let me find my car keys."
She rummaged around amid the chaos of papers, phone books, maps, and flight information on the table nearest to the window, and the keys jingled as she picked them up. She took a look through the glass down towards the street. She'd have to mind the fucking stupid-ass curfew and not let those army boys find her out and about at this hour, but this was important. She was doing the Lord's work, for a change.
"You're gonna be okay, kid," she said, turning towards Cory where he stood, still half in and half out of the bathroom. "This is a good woman I'm takin' you to, and you'll be safe with her."
“Safe’s good,” Cory said in a meek tone, for the moment remembering Melinda. She hadn’t been safe, that much Cory knew, and more than wanting to be loved and cared for, the child wanted nothing more than to be safe.
Be away from the monsters. Keep the vampires away from him – even though he was actually in the presence of one.
“No vampires where we’re going?”
"None at all, you've got my word on that."
Grace gave Cory a half smile, thinking that if he could get through the next few years without therapy, he'd be doing good. Nice kid, really. And maybe she was the tiniest bit regretful that she'd never see him again after this, but the life she lived was no place for a child.
The keys to the Plymouth jingled again, and she shouldered the duffel bag and offered the boy her room-temperature hand.
"C'mon. I'll take ya home."
Cory took Grace’s hand, surprised by how cool it was. The child didn’t think anything of it, though, as he loaded himself into the car. Cory was too busy looking forward to this new home he was going to – no vampires, a loving family … maybe it would be like life back home in Pennsylvania.
Before the bad men with the bad teeth.
The house on 3682 Jackson Street was located in a suburb of Las Vegas, a ranch-style model at the end of the block. When the Plymouth pulled up to the curb in front of the house, there were only a few lights on inside. Grace looked at the modest abode, stared out at the silent neighborhood through the windshield, lit a smoke. A planned community, probably, with kids for Cory to play with and settle in comfortably. She looked over at the kid, then opened the driver's side door.
Inside the house, Michaela Starnes was avoiding going to bed and pretending the house needed cleaning up. The kids were asleep, she'd checked on them an hour ago and listened to their quiet breathing for several minutes before daring to leave them alone. It felt like she was like that a lot these days.
They'd buried Drew last week, amid little fanfare in the newspapers because of the explosion of the government's mess. Just as well, really. Ryan and Denise didn't need more trauma. Neither did she. The house seemed so empty without Drew in it. Large, jolly Drew, with his warm smile and cheerful manner. She hated the thought that he might have died angry with her.
She was sitting in the living room with a cup of black coffee in one hand, watching television and loathing the idea of getting into that big bed all by herself. It was going to be midnight soon, but who cared? Not like she was due at work tomorrow. She'd taken a leave from the department, possibly a permanent one. Couldn't work, couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. The kids were worried about her.
The knock startled her so badly that coffee spilled out of the cup, and she looked at the clock. Eleven forty five. No one ever knocks at eleven forty five with good news.
"Yes?" A weary, God-what-now voice, and Grace was solemn and a little uncomfortable when the mortal answered the door.
"Hello, Michaela."
Cory smiled when he saw Michaela open the door. He remembered her, saw the cop the first time when Melinda was killed in a Las Vegas hotel. Sure, the officer lady was a reminder of Cory’s late foster mother, Michaela had also been nice to him.
Was Michaela going to be his new mother?
“Hi, cop lady!” Cory beamed with a frantic wave.
Michaela looked down at the little boy standing on her porch, then lifted her gaze to stare at Agent Hutchinson - Grace - with a mixture of wariness and disbelief. She had heard that the child had disappeared from the temporary placement CPS had put him in, before that awful fire, but it hadn't occurred to her that the other woman would be the one to have pulled him out of there.
"Hi, Cory," she said, managing a smile for the boy, but most of her attention was on Grace. There was something ... unsettling about her. Something dangerous. Beyond dangerous.
Grace put the duffel bag down, laced her fingers together at the back of her neck. "Sorry about the hour," she said, still solemn, still uncomfortable, and not knowing why. "I've been takin' care of a friend during the day, so this was the only time I could come out."
She fell silent, and the two of them looked at one another as if waiting for some outside signal. The cop looked down at Cory again, noting that the child looked no worse for wear. But this meant that his mother ...
"Am I supposed to return him to the authorities?"
"Child Protective Services decided to release him into your care," Grace said carefully, looking straight at the detective and feeling itchy. "Your interest in the Watkins case and the subsequent investigation proves you've got his best interests at heart, and with his mother still missing he's got no immediate family left. I've seen his file, they were worried enough about him to suggest a psychiatrist. He needs a stable environment."
Samantha's missing, Grace's expression said. Let it stand, Michaela. You know no one could deal with her. She won't be any trouble to anyone anymore.
And I'm so sorry.
"They still haven't found her?" Michaela queried, her tone just as careful. "I would have thought with the presence of the military, someone would have ..."
"She's gone, Michaela," Grace said gently, wanting to make the lie stick, for the cop's sake and for the kid's. The cop was smart, but being smart also meant knowing when to not know certain things.
"The Feds think she left the state, possibly even the country. I don't know anything other than that."
Cory looked up at Grace with a quizzical glance. “Is Mommy in trouble?” he asked. “What did she do?”
The idea of his mother – well, his last mother – being in trouble worried the young tyke, but standing before Michaela for some reason helped Cory keep calm. Things were going awfully fast, and the boy wasn’t sure he could keep up.
Michaela reached out and touched the child, putting her hand on his shoulder, and Grace took a half step backwards. She was simply the delivery person, getting Cory out of harm's way. This was not meant to be her life.
"Your momma's fine," the vampire said quietly, touching his other shoulder for a brief moment. "She's not in trouble, we just don't know where she is. When we find her, it'll all get worked out." She withdrew her hand, stuffed it into a pocket. Looked at the cop full in the face.
"All you'll have to do is file the proper paperwork with the state," she said, and Michaela nodded. This whole thing had a dream-like quality to it, as if she'd fallen asleep after all and was just imagining this. But it also sounded surprisingly reasonable. The child needed a home, and she needed ... something to help staunch the bleeding, perhaps.
"I'll get in touch with someone from CPS tomorrow," she said, and an undefinable expression crossed Grace's face. Relief? Regret? Maybe a little of both? Such strangeness.
"Do you want to ..."
"It’s better if I don't," Grace said, forestalling the invitation she knew was about to escape from the cop's mouth. Bad enough she'd gotten this involved, this close. Time to extricate herself before the knots got even tighter. She rubbed the back of her neck, then crouched down to make eye contact with Cory.
"You be good for her, okay, little dude?"
Cory nodded before throwing his arms around Grace’s shoulders, hugging her tightly. “Thank you,” he said before letting go and returning his attention to Michaela. So this was his new mother – for some reason, Cory felt things were going to be alright.
“Can we have pasketti for dinner tomorrow?”
Michaela saw the look on Grace's face, and for one second the expression was so raw that she was a little embarrassed to have seen it. She looked down at Cory's expectant little face instead, offered the boy a wide smile. "'Pasketti'? Sure, I don't see why not. C'mon in, sweetie, we'll fix you up a bed in the spare room, then figure out something more permanent tomorrow."
When she looked at the other woman again, her expression was carefully blank and slightly remote. Both of them were more than a little grateful for that. "Thank you for coming, Agent Hutch - Grace. I'd been worried about his welfare before. You're right, he's going to need all the stability he can get."
"Well, I'm just doing the Lord's work," Grace replied evenly, and there was a curious hollowness in her gut. She wanted another smoke in the worst way. "You, ah, you take care of yourself and yours, Michaela. And I'd like to extend my condolences for your loss."
"Thank you." They looked at each other again, and Michaela reached out and offered Grace her hand. The vampire shook it briefly, then executed a strange sort of bow in Cory's direction, and her boots thumped loudly on the wooden stairs before she reached the concrete sidewalk.
Cory yawned as he waved to Grace, watching her get back in the car and drive away. The boy didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to get tired. Michaela seemed just as nice as the first time Cory met her, and the boy looked forward to the next day, starting over again and possibly meeting a few friends along the way.
Something he hadn’t had in a little over a year.
Michaela pulled the child into the house, then waited for a moment before shutting out the night with a quiet click. She was going to have to think about how to explain this to her kids. But somehow it felt like it was all going to be fine. For them and for this little boy.
It was going to be fine. She'd see to it.
Behind the wheel of her car, Grace had already pointed the vehicle back towards Vegas, thinking about nothing more complicated than which back roads to use to avoid the army boys. She'd done what she'd set out to do, and now it was all finished. She'd bagged a Slayer, and gotten a decent home for Samantha's son on top of that. She'd done the decent thing.
The vampire watched the red light she was sitting at, waiting impatiently for it to change, and if she wiped at her eyes before continuing on her journey, it was a thing she'd never admit to anyone. Like she needed a kid tagging after her for fuck knew how long.
She did get tired of wanting things she couldn't have, though. Things like family.