Pax entered the basement to the SEVEN headquarters in Alexandria. As he navigated through the metal storage cabinets and bookcases, he carried a tray of covered food.
     This foolish quest of Alex’s ran the risk of running his men ragged even before exhausting his finances. But this quest went beyond his straightforward crusade. This had become personal. Pax knew better than to stand in Alex’s way. He liked his job too much to endanger it with some careless remark. He hated to think of himself as an enabler, but the man’s peace of mind meant a stable work environment. And if that called for Pax to remove Evonne from the equation, then he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.
     Pax found his boss at a long, cluttered table, asleep on some papers. He nudged a few papers to the side as he gently sat down the tray. Instead of waking him, Pax picked up the nearest folder and glanced over the papers inside. The old papers were aged considerably. Pax marveled at the penmanship on each one. Nowadays, people didn’t take pride in the art of good handwriting, whereas a few keystrokes on a computer, coupled with the right font, the fanciest of handwriting could be generated. But this handwriting was purely Alex’s.
     His attention turned to a cardboard box. Inside, he shuffled through more folders a papers, stopping when he saw a black and white photo. It was the estate. Pax guessed it be from the late 1800s. He found another photo from the same time period. This one shown Alex standing with a group of men. Pax instantly recognized them as hunters.
     Alex stirred awake.
     Pax quickly placed the photo back into the box.
     “I brought you your dinner.”
     “Thank you,” Alex said, uninterested. He began to restack papers before him.
     “What are you looking for?”
     “Information.”
     “I figured that much,” said Pax as he lifted the lid from the tray’s main dish. “Roast beast. The finest on the east coast, smothered in … some type of sauce. It’s good. I had a plate earlier. Samantha’s the best cook ever, I believe. That girl can make road kill taste like heaven.”
     Alex waved away the tray. “I’ll eat in a moment. I want to finish this box first.”
     With a shrug, Pax recovered the dish. “Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
     “A journal, dated from 1868 to 1874.”
     “Is it a naughty journal?” Pax asked as he leaned against the table, grinning.
     Alex ignored his attempted humor.
     “Alright,” the hunter gave in. “Where’s the 1800s section. I might as well help while I’m down here.”
     Alex motioned to the floor where more than a dozen boxes sat. “All around. Take your pick.”
     Grabbing one of the heavy boxes, Pax sat it on the table. He lifted the lid, shaking his head. “I’ve heard of packrats and hoarders before, but I believe we need a new word for someone like you.”
     “As new and wonderful as Watchtower can be,” Alex explained, setting a handful of papers to the side, “what I’m looking for was never made known.”
     Pax retrieved an interesting item from the box. He held up the leather necklace, gaining a better look at the charm it carried. The long tooth appeared to be made of silver and was tied the leather at the root.
     “Neat little artifact,” he said.
     Looking up, Alex asked to see it. Pax gladly handed it over, catching the slight change within his boss. The man looked at this simple tooth as though it were some great treasure misplaced and once forgotten.
     “The canine of a pureblood,” he explained, “coated in silver. It was a gift.”
     “Can I have it?”
     Alex’s eyes darted to him. “No.” He then rolled up the necklace and shoved it into his pocket.
     Pax shrugged it off. “I guess I’ll just have to make my own.” He continued to shuffle through the box. “Oh, speaking of werewolves…”
     “Jon told you all you need to know.”
     “That’s another thing,” said Pax, stopping to look at him. “What’s with all of these secrets?”
     “Jon is nothing more than a human with anger issues.”
     “No, he’s a half-breed. We hunt peltless wolves just as much as the others. I thought we had a policy here?”
     “We don’t kill half-breeds. You know that.”
     “We hunt and capture them, sure, and perhaps they can return to a normal life. But most are unpredictable. Just like a wolf/dog hybrid. They can turn without warning.”
     Alex finally look at the hunter. “I thought you had respect for Jon?”
     “I do.”
     “Then why question him now? You two have the same rank. You have nothing to gain here.”
     “I’m just… I was blindsided by all of this. I felt betrayed that I was never told.”
     “Now that you know, does it change things for you?”
     Pax thought for a moment. “Nope.” Picking up a book, he silently shown his boss that he was already past it all. “I found the financial log for 1898.” He scanned over its pages. “Wow. I’m glad I didn’t work for you then. These guys worked for peanuts.”
     “Can you help me without talking?”
     “Not sure, but I can try.”
     The room fell quiet as Pax struggled not to speak. The two continued their search, moving from one box to the next. Alex finally took a break as he finished sorting through a box, refilling it with old journals, books, and papers. He then pulled the dinner tray before him and began to eat.
     Pax took his searching to the floor as he grabbed a new box. He was having a hard time looking for this one journal. There were so many interesting things to look at within the boxes. He even found a stack of personal letters, all addressed to an Elizabeth Manfred. Curious, he opened one letter and fought to read through the elegant penmanship. The woman expressed concern over writing him, in fear that she would be found out by others.
     “Ooo!” Pax exclaimed. “You were a busy fellow back in the day. Who’s Elizabeth Manfred?”
     “You’re in a 1900s box,” Alex informed, not even looking up from his dinner.
     Pax checked the date written on the box. “Right box. Just some misplaced letters, I guess. So? Who was she?”
     “Just a woman.”
     “Come on. No secrets, now.”
     Alex took a few more bites before replying. “She was a member of Redthorn—from the Mallin family.”
     “Oh.” Pax looked at the old letters again, his interest changing. “What happened to her?”
     “She was killed. She tried to leave the family and sought my help to protect her. They got to her before I did.”
     “Some family.” His fingers trailed over the woman’s signature. With a small sigh, he placed the letters back in the box and moved onto the next one.
     The newest box before Pax offered a sea of interesting artifacts; more trinkets, letters, books, and photographs. One photo in particular stood out. Pax stared at the image. He spotted Alex again, standing by another group of people, four men and one woman. Pax’s jaw dropped.
     “Oh my God. Is this them?” He stood up and shown the photograph to Alex.
     Looking it over once, Alex went back to eating.
     “Yes,” he finally said.
     “Who’s who? I mean, Emily I can guess, but who’s the others?”
     Alex pointed them out. “Nathaniel, Stephen, Victor, Ethan, and of course, Emily.”
     Pax stared close at the woman pictured. “Emily. Not your typical 19th century gal, was she?”
     “No, she wasn’t.”
     “I bet you hooked up with her, you sly, old dog.”
     “I didn’t hook up with her,” said Alex, annoyed. “Are you going to help me or not?”
     “Okay, okay,” he gave in, crossing the floor to return to his seat. He glanced over the photo again. “That Nathaniel looked like an ass. I bet he—”
     “Pax! Back to work.”
     “Roger, roger.” He placed the photo into the box and continued his searching. “You really need to get all of this information added to Watchtower, or some new database. Perhaps a Watchtower 2.0 or—Oh! I have the perfect name. ‘Lighthouse.’ Seriously, whoever came up with the name ‘Watchtower’ needs to be shot. Such a blah name. You know, we need to take advantage of something stereotypical, something clichéd. How about ‘Book of the Night’ or ‘The Cave.’ Oh! I have the perfect name.” He paused for a dramatic effect. “ ‘The Graveyard.’ You know, since most of them listed are or will be killed at some point … probably.”
     “I like ‘Watchtower.’ It reminds me of Jimi Hendrix. I like Jimi.”
     Pax shot him an odd look. “Really? You listen to the Voodoo Man? I never would’ve guessed.”
     “I also listen to Metallica, but don’t tell anyone.”
     “Ah, gotcha. Our little secret.” He went back to the box. “From Mozart to Metallica, you’re an easy man to please.” Pax’s eyes widened as he lifted a thick book from the box. “Shazam! I think I found it!”
     Alex hurried over to him and grabbed the book. He sat on the floor, as well, fingers flipping through the old pages. Pax leaned over his shoulder, eyes scanning the many pages. Alex reached a section in the back of the journal set aside to the various werewolves and vampires he happened to cross. He turned to the pages set aside for Gabriel.
     “You see,” Pax said, still glancing at the book, “it’s information like this we need to add to Watchtower.” His eyes landed on a paragraph hinting towards Gabriel’s apparent involvement with Alex’s mission. “Wow. That’s a lot of silver.”
     Alex flipped the page and read fast. “Here! I knew I made a note of it. It was a conversation I had with him. He mentioned about a house he once owned. I thought it was odd since he made it known that he never stayed in one place too long. He also said that the house was cared for by others.”
     “Where is this house?”
     Alex excitement dropped. “He never told me. He actually avoided the question.”
     “Not really a dead end,” Pax pointed out as he leaned back and recovered the box. “Let’s say he did return there. If he once owned this house, then we just run a search for his name.”
     “The house could be anywhere. And what if he used a different name to purchase the property? Even if he hadn’t, we don’t know his last name.”
     Pax’s shoulders slumped. Dead end. Or… “Idea!” he almost shouted. “Okay, just hear me out on this. We’ll need to use Syd for this one.”
     Alex gave him a dangerous look. “No. Not him.”
     “I’m not finished! Syd, though his methods are a little unorthodox, even scares the shit out of me. Plus, he’s been wanting to face Gabriel for a long time. Now, we get Syd to speak with Gabe’s buddy, Derek. Derek can then be sent on his merry way to find Keelan. From here, we can do one of two things; capture and question Keelan, or follow Keelan as he runs to warn Gabriel.”
     Alex shook his head. “Bad idea. Too many variables. For one thing, I’m not getting a loose cannon like Syd involved. Two; Derek is remaining in our custody. And three; Keelan will not give us any information, or even run to his sire.”
     “Well, shit.” Pax chewed on the inside of his lip as he thought up another plan. “Perhaps it’s a vacation house in sunny California? We wouldn’t suspect that.”
     Still looking over the journal’s pages, Alex pointed out the obvious, “He wouldn’t have a house on his hunting grounds.”
     “How long has he been hunting in North America?”
     “Since the early 1700s, I believe. I remember him talking about a group of pirates he was hired to kill.”
     Pax saw the apparent joke and latched on. “Were they vampirates?”
     Again, Alex avoided the attempted humor. “You know he doesn’t hunt his own kind. What struck me odd about this hunt was that he didn’t act alone. He was a part of an assembled group. He and another hunter acted as the leaders.”
     “Where’s Gabriel from? Before he became a vampire.”
     “Europe,” Alex said, flipping through more pages. “Italy, perhaps. It’s said that the Elder, Demetrius, is his sire.”
     “Get your eyes checked. Our blond boy isn’t from Italy. Think with the mind and eyes of a historian. He looks Scandinavian. Maybe he was a Viking? We don’t know how old he really is.”
     “He wasn’t a Viking.” Alex stopped to think over the facts. “He’s always carried himself like a gentlemen.” His eyes reread a section in the journal. “He’s from England.”
     A light bulb went off in Pax’s head, as well. “By Jove, you maybe right. The weapons he’s made for you in the past; some of those resemble authentic English design.”
     “And chain mail,” said Alex, pointing at the journal’s page. “It was a request I made to help protect the hunters. They went over the neck and chest. I had some other designs drawn up, but our partnership didn’t last that long.”
     “Can I ask what happened?”
     “We had a difference of opinion.”
     Pax nodded at the answer. He could tell that Alex didn’t want to talk about it. “Shall I get the boys across the pond to do some checking for us?”
     Shaking his head, Alex turned down the offer. “I’ll make the call.”
     “What are you going to do if we find him… and her?”
     His eyes finally left the journal. “I just want her back. She’s all I have left.”
     “Had left. Deny it all you want, but the evidence is strong.”
     Alex looked at him sternly. “She’s still my daughter.”
     Pax took in a calming breath before he spoke. “Let’s look at this differently. Pretend she got married and moved away. So you don’t like the guy she married, big deal. You’re a father and fathers love their daughters very much. They just have to learn to let go. When she’s ready, she’ll return.”
     Pulling himself to his feet, Alex went back to the table and sat down.
     “I hope you don’t do something you’ll regret,” Pax almost begged. “Even after all that has happened, she still loves you. Perhaps they’re running because Gabriel believes that you’ll try to kill her.”
     Alex answered hatefully. “She’s mine to protect. Not his.”
     Heading to the table as well, Pax grabbed a chair and sat near Alex. He motioned to the tray. “You going to finish that?”
     “Go ahead,” he said, completely interested in the journal.
     Sliding the tray across the table, Pax began to eat. “You can look at the bright side to all of this,” he said in between bites. “Just like you, she’ll never age. You have all the time in the world to find her now.”