American Monster

2 - Justus

The second her plane touched down in my town I felt her, an electricity pulsing through every nerve ending, reanimating my once stalled heart. I was practically vibrating as she made her way closer to me, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end – my hackles raised. And then her eyes locked on mine, curious, but unknowing – void of the memories of us that plagued me for centuries.

My chest cracked with the familiar ache of being forgotten. But her gaze never wavered. Even if her mind didn't remember me, her heart did, sputtering frantically in her chest, calling to me to steady its pace or cease it from beating altogether. Luckily, I've had many years to learn to curb my insatiable appetite. But before I could quelch this need inside of me, I had to convince her she could trust me, which, from past experience has proven to be a daunting task.

I parked my Ducati on the cobblestone path outside of Cato's office, just off Briarwood Boulevard, and strolled inside. His secretary didn't bat an eye as I slid past her desk and into his office without knocking. His gaze never rose to meet mine as he sighed. "To what do I owe the honor, my liege?" he asked, clearly exasperated.

I rolled my eyes. "You asked me to stop by, remember?"

He glanced up at me, lost in thought before shaking his head. "Close the door."

I did before sinking down in the leather wingback chair across from him, my eyes dancing over the papers sprawled across his desk. "What's this?" I asked, picking up a paper to get a closer look at the image in the center of the flyer. "Missing student? When did she disappear?" I stared at the photoshopped image of Anya Tate before rolling my eyes. If they were looking for someone who looked like this, they would never find her.

"That is the end of my career," he rasped, scratching at his salt and peppered beard. "They haven't released it to the press yet. But when they do it will be a media firestorm."

"They can't blame this on you," I reassured him as I tossed the paper back on the pile.

"Can they blame it on you?" His hazel eyes bore into mine with a sudden clarity I'd only caught glimpses of in recent years.

"No," I bit out, clenching my jaw. "Some girl skipped a few classes. What's the big deal?" His question wasn't meant as an insult and given the limited knowledge about my kind, I didn't blame him for worrying.

"No one will want to send their children to a place that can't guarantee their safety. Not after what had happened –"

"Have you seen the news lately?" I quipped, earning myself a glare as he leaned forward in his chair. "I'm the least of your worries and no one is looking to past tragedy to protect the future."

"This isn't a joke, Justus."

"Am I fucking laughing?" I bit out and he cleared his throat, undeterred by my outburst. "I've been around long enough to know that men never learn."

"I've worked my entire life to be sitting here, and I won't have my legacy erased over something like this."

"Something like what?" I goaded, matching his posture as I closed the gap between us a few more inches. "Like...me?" I watched the column of his throat bob on a swallow. "This," I sneered, "is not your legacy. This is a waste of our time. And I've appeased you with your little passion project, but this isn't what you were meant to be."

"You forget how I found you?" he asked, shaking the thought from his mind. "I took you in, Justus, when I was just a student here myself. I took a chance on you. We both know what kind of –"

"Be careful how you finish that sentence, Cato. Have I not repaid your kindness?" I asked, pushing to my feet.

"This isn't about money –"