22

here were many things in this world that Pax guarded with a tenacity all his own. One was the sanctity of his convictions centered around what he saw as corrupt and vile within the world. The second was his undeniable love for a thick, Angus hamburger. And rounding off the top three was his devotion to certain man and his laughable dream—a mission not even the devils of the night could rip from him. Pax was more than happy to join the fight at his side. But now that very fire within Alex smoldered into pathetic embers, all because of one brainless girl.
Pax walked past the door to Evonne’s room, carrying one of Alex’s bags. The planned trip to England came as a shock to Jonathan, who tried many fruitless times to talk his boss out of it. His main point of argument, as valid as it was, rested in their lack of evidence, a theory with nothing concrete to back it up. Alex agreed, but added, “If he is so desperate to hide, then he will be there.”
On the other hand, Pax didn’t second guess Alex’s decision. He knew there would be nothing to say that could change his stubborn mind once an idea had taken root. But if they happened to find them, then Pax’s next stop would a convenience store to buy lottery tickets.
Pax entered Evonne’s room and sat the bag on the bed. The bedroom hadn’t been touched since that night. He didn’t know what he hoped to find, but if there was anything he could use against her: a journal, a picture, or even a stuffed animal, anything he could use to gain a foothold, then he was willing to use it. The girl wasn’t thinking straight when she left, so if he could find a small pebble to crack through that shell of hers, then Alex’s task of bringing her back would seem a less daunting. The plan was weak at best, but it would be a piece in Pax’s arsenal.
Looking through the dresser drawers and closet, Pax saw the proof of her planned escape. The missing clothes and duffle bag shown that she went willingly. But the largest piece of evidence was visible on the security footage. Gabriel was in and out of the house in less than five minutes, most of that time spent confronting Alex as he tried to leave. There was no way she could have packed the bag in the allotted time. But how did she know?
Pax sat down at the desk and turned on the computer. As the machine loaded, he glanced through each drawer and thumbed through every scrap of paper, looking anything of interest. The girl had nothing. It was sad, actually. Most teens and young adults had photos of friends or even a scrapbook filled with useless memorabilia. But this room had nothing of the sort.
The computer’s monitor displayed an image of a dragon battling a knight, followed by a slew of icons. Evonne’s room may have been kept organized but her computer was a mess. Pax began a quick search of the internet’s history, half hoping to find an online journal or any email accounts still logged in. He was wishing now that Alex had listened to him and installed the spyware. But the foolish man saw it as an invasion of her privacy, one of the few things he never compromised on.
Pax clicked on a list of the computer’s programs. Though there were a few pirated items, nothing stood out. He clicked back to the desktop and noticed one odd icon. The shortcut’s image was a yellow smiley face wearing sunglasses with the words “Say Cheese” underneath. He double clicked the icon.
A familiar loading screen greeted him.
“Son-ova-bitch!”
Pax tore himself from the chair and hurried down the hall to Alex’s personal study. He found Alex in the adjoining bedroom, packing his last bag.
“Sir,” he began, remaining in the study’s doorway. He tried not to stumble over his words. “We may have another serious problem on our hands.”
Alex continued packing as he replied, “What is it?”
“I was looking around on Evonne’s computer and found a copy of the Watchtower client.”
Alex looked up, understanding the seriousness in his voice. He left his bedroom and entered the study, his focus on the portrait. Glancing behind it he found the flash drive missing. Alex then headed for Evonne’s bedroom with Pax following. He sat down at the desk and looked at the prompt screen. He typed in the entry codes used by his computer. The program came online.
“Your computer is off, right?”
Alex answered as he looked through the client’s recent searches. “I turned it off this morning.”
“Good,” he said, leaning over Alex’s shoulder, “cause I don’t want to hear Maurice go on about false alarms and junk.”
Typing in a few commands, a list of searches appeared on the screen.
“How did she know about this?” asked Alex, seeing a few familiar names.
“My guess is David. I told you the boy went native.” Standing straight, Pax crossed his arms. “This could explain the reports of the abandoned havens.”
“I’ll inform SEVEN to add more security to the database. That’s all I can do for now.”
“Two times. Two times we’ve had a breach in security involving Watchtower. We need to redo the system.”
Alex rubbed the tension away from his face. “We can worry about it later.” He exited the program and stood up to leave the room. Nearing the door he stopped as he remembered something else. “What were you doing in here in the first place?”
Pax gave a shrug, hiding his nervousness. “Trying to see if there’s anything we overlooked.”
Alex grew distant. “The van’s already out front. Let’s finish loading it up, shall we?”
With his lips curled in a smug look, Pax watched him leave the room. “Aye, aye, Captain,” he muttered.

In the back seat, Pax listened in on Alex’s phone call, while Jonathan steered the van away from the manor. Like any seasoned traveler, Pax knew how to pack light. Jonathan and Alex, however, carried six suitcases between them, most of the items based on “what if” scenarios. What if they had engine trouble out in the field? Jonathan knew the pain of grease on clothing all too well. Or what if they were splatter with the blood of some stray vampire or werewolf? Again, Jonathan detested thought of any stains on his clothes. Or what if the SEVEN headquarters in London called for a last minute meeting? Armani be damned if Alex entered the room in department-casual. Pax rolled his eyes at the possible excuses.
“Thomas and Will are in charge until I return,” Alex said into the cell phone. “It’s business, of course… All right. If you need me, you know how to reach me.” He hung up the phone as the van passed through the front gate.
Pax noticed Alex’s eyes glancing at the side mirror and at the shrinking image of the gate. The man hid his emotions well, but in the reflection of the small mirror, Pax could see the endless pit he tried to cover. He took in a deep breath and stretched his arms before folding them behind his head. “I don’t know about you guys,” he said, “but this is exciting! I’ve never been away from the States before.”
“Like Alex said,” reminded Jonathan, “it’s business, not pleasure.”
“As long as I get some souvenirs, you’ll hear no complaints from me.”
Alex opened a leather bound case from between the seats and removed a dark folder stuffed with papers, information faxed to him from London.
Pax continued talking. “You’re originally from England, right? Any chance of seeing your hometown?”
Keeping his eyes on the papers, Alex spoke to Jonathan. “Turn on the radio, please.”
Jonathan did as he was told.
Slumping in his seat, Pax made a painful observation. “This is going to be a long trip.”

After an hour on the winding roads, the small airport came into view. Though Pax believed it would’ve been faster to take the helicopter, Alex’s word was final.
“We must give no indication of our urgency.”
Pax looked on the bright side. The trees were beginning to show their fall colors, something people came from miles to see. And he had to agree with them. The scenery wasn’t all that bad once you took the time to appreciate it.
The van pulled onto the tarmac where a fueled jet and a handful of people waited. Jonathan stopped the van as a dark haired woman approached. Pax instantly beamed upon seeing her. He stepped out of the van, refusing to shield his happiness.
“Miss Sophie J. Bromley, looking lovelier every day.” He smiled.
The woman returned the smile. “Nice to see you too, Paxton.”
Sophie once worked with Pax in Los Angeles, and had been the epitome of beauty in his eyes ever since. Like everyone who came to work for SEVEN or Alex, their stories were saturated with misfortune. Sophie’s life was no different. Her mother’s family came from the country of Vietnam, while her father’s family had a rich history in Hawaii. But she never knew her parents outside the stories she was told. At the age of four, Sophie lived in San Francisco with her godmother and took the last name Bromley. It was an incident fifteen years ago that sent Sophie on the path to become one of SEVEN’s elite.
Pax couldn’t pick out what he liked the most about this woman. She wasn’t a girly-girl, or clamored over the latest fashion craze; she actually hated wearing skirts or dresses. But when she was decked out in her hunter’s garb, with rifle in hand, he realized there was something tangible to his admiration. And even looking at her now, dressed in casual clothes and black, steel-toed boots, he hated the fact that he was leaving the country.
“Sporting your first battle scar proudly, I see,” said Pax, nodding at the scar on her neck, a present given to her by Gabriel over a month ago.
“More than I can say about you,” Sophie shot back. She buried her hands in her pockets against the gust of cold air. “Ever plan on breaking your skin for the cause?”
“Who says I haven’t?”
Alex, with leather case in hand, stepped from the van as Jonathan began to grab their bags. Alex looked at Sophie and repeated the orders given to her earlier over the phone. “I want to keep this visit off the record. Only a select few will know of this trip, and I want to keep it that way.”
“Of course, sir,” she said.
Jonathan carried two suitcases as he followed Alex to the plane where the crew waited to greet them. Sophie went to the back of the van and helped Pax with the remaining bags.
“Is it true what I hear?” she asked, her voice low.
“Depends on what you’ve heard,” he said. “If it’s what I think you’re talking about, then yes, it is the biggest on the east coast. Why do you think I was shipped all the way out here from LA? They were too intimidated by me.”
“Ah, no. That’s not it. I’ve seen your”—she glanced below his waist—“and it’s nothing to brag about.” She grinned.
“Ouch. You cut me deep.”
Sophie grew serious. “It’s about his daughter.”
Pax lowered his voice as he saw Jonathan returning. “We’re not hundred percent on that.”
“Well, how sure are you?”
He lowered his voice even further. “Ninety-nine point nine percent.”
Sophie shook her head. “Stupid girl.”
“Reckless, not stupid,” he corrected, grabbing the last bag.
“Pax!” snapped Jonathan. “Quiet.”
“It’s Sophie, man,” he defended. “Inner circle here.”
She smiled at the inclusion. “Nice to know.”
Jonathan grabbed two more bags and headed back to the plane, his body language showing his eagerness to be off the ground before the sunset.
Sophie watched Pax for a moment before speaking. She tried her best to read his body language, as well. But the man had proven many times in the past that he could mask anything, whether it was a splinter under a fingernail, a broken bone, or a shattered ego, he let nothing outwardly show unless he allowed it.
“I highly doubt you’ll stand by and let Alex self-destruct like this,” she said, her eyes on the activity around the airplane. “People are starting to talk.”
Pax closed the van’s doors. “A delicate situation. But I’ve made my peace with what needs to be done.”
Sophie looked at him, the first signs of concern showing. “He’ll kill you, you know.”
“Alex knows I trust him. He won’t kill me.”
“But are you sure you can kill her?”
“I can kill anything with fur or fangs. The key is not to dwell on it.”
Spotting Jonathan as he walked toward them, Sophie picked up a bag. “Watch yourself. She’s not alone.”
Picking up his own bag, Pax followed Jonathan and Sophie to the plane. He handed his bag to a crew member as they finished securing the luggage. On board, he saw Alex already in his set, still looking over the papers. The jet was much nicer than the one he used to come here from California. He even spotted a table, kitchenette, and a mini-bar.
“Well, children,” Sophie said, standing by the front of the cabin, “Be good boys and play nice over there. We don’t want to fuel any of those crazy American stereotypes, now do we?” She looked at Alex and nodded. “I’ll head to Eden and await your return. Have a safe trip.”
As she left the plane, a crew member closed the door and returned to the cockpit.
Alex’s eyes settled back on the papers. “I wish people would stop calling it that,” he mumbled. Though the estate was never given a proper name, many liked to argue that Eden was a perfect name.
“You think she likes me?” Pax wondered out loud as he took his seat.
Jonathan looked at him, genuinely interested in the question. “Who? Sophie?”
“Yeah, I think she likes me. But I’m not sure if she’s ready for that next level.”
“I thought she had a girlfriend.”
A smile graced Pax’s lips. “Rumors, my friend. Designed to keep the fellas at bay.”
“Or work extra hard to ‘convert’ her,” Jonathan pointed out.
Pax turned to Alex, honestly confessing, “I didn’t start those rumors, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Alex answered without looking up. “They’re not rumors.”
A look of confusion trickled over Pax. “Explain.”
“She started seeing Denise, then ended things as she started seeing Ryan.”
Pax’s lips contorted at the gossip. “Is Ryan another girl?”
“A guy. Sophie plays for both teams.”
Leaning forward, Pax’s confusion flipped into perversion. “Really? Cause I’m getting some serious X-rated thoughts right now.”
Giving in, Jonathan pleaded with Alex. “Quit screwin’ with him.”
Pax’s eyes went from one man to the other. “What? What?”
Alex finally looked at him and explained, “The three ‘S’s, my boy. She’s single, straight, and celibate.”
Taking in his words, Pax relaxed back in his seat. “Oh… Wait a second. ‘Celibate’ starts with a ‘C.’ ”
“Do you break land-speed records with that brain of yours?” Jonathan joked.
Pax brushed off the insult as he cracked his knuckles in a dramatic pose. “She doesn’t know it yet, but that girl has become my Holy Grail.”
Avoiding where the conversation was heading, Alex placed a series of pages on the table, piecing them together like a puzzle. Jonathan changed seats to gain a better view of the map the pages formed. Pax left his seat to see the map, as well.
“The werewolf territories of Great Britain,” informed Alex. “Their history goes back centuries before the discovery of the New World. And their structure seems to have more political tones—a welcomed, yet sometimes hated trait given to them by the humans. If Gabriel is there, he will most likely be within one of these territories.”
“Clever, I’ll give him that,” admitted Pax.
“We just need to narrow down our search. We need to look at houses built around the 1700s.”
“Or not,” corrected Jonathan. “He could’ve bought the house.”
Alex turned down the idea. “Not for that time period. He would’ve had the house constructed.”
Pax crossed his arms as he stared down at the map. “So, it’s a house built in the 1700s and renovated in 18-something.”
“We also need to look at family owned property,” Alex pointed out. “He many have an ongoing contract with them—people to take care of the house while he is away.”
Pax looked at his boss, an eyebrow raising. “You should work for the FBI.”
“This territory here: Summet,” Jonathan said, pointing at the western side of the map. “That looks like a good place to start.”
“Or,” said Pax, scanning over the information, “we could go for the largest and most powerful”—he leaned down to read the name—“Theodore.”
Again, Alex turned down the idea. “The oldest and most stable seems like a better candidate.”
For the sake of his own sanity, Pax chose not to argue. “Ya know, I’m always that guy that says, ‘I told you so.’ But you know what else? It never gets old.”
“You were the one who wanted to bring him along,” Jonathan reminded Alex. His boss glance at him but didn’t reply.
“Like you didn’t want me to come along,” said Pax, returning to his seat. Swiveling the other seat around, he propped up his feet. He heard the papers shuffling as Alex cleared the table. An amusing thought struck him as he sat there, waiting for the jet to begin taxiing. “Boy, won’t David be pissed when he finds out that you crossed an ocean for her but didn’t lift a finger for him.”
Alex felt that certain nerve being tested once more. The hunter never knew when to shut up. But as much as his words sounded rude, they were the truth, and Alex chose not to scold him for it. But the situation with David was different. It was Saros who stole him away. Going after an Original was next to impossible. And he belonged to her now. At least with Evonne, he had a good chance at locating her, and even bringing her home. But was this really the case? If David had been taken by another, would he had gone after him? The possible answer sickened him. At times he once thought of David as a son. But now, the tether once prominent between them felt more like tissue paper when compared to the steel chain holding him to Evonne.