Jeanne Stein - The Watcher

"We get to the cemetery. I tell the media I want privacy. The car takes me to the grave site. I get out, walk to the grave and wait for The Ghost to shoot me. Did I miss anything?"

He stiffens beside me. "You are not going to be shot. We have sharpshooters covering every angle. They've been in position since early this morning. They may even have the guy by the time we get there. You are not going to be in any danger."

He doesn't mention the "vampires can't be killed by bullets" thing. I suppose that's for our driver's benefit.

We reach the highway turnoff. The driver takes it and steers toward the cemetery. As predicted, there are a half dozen media vans waiting at the entrance. I climb out and Williams joins me. He holds up a hand and the reporters gather around us. Williams signals for them to be quiet. He makes a few remarks about hoping they'll respect my privacy and I echo that sentiment and promise to talk to them when I return. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. I don't know when I started to cry or why.

Williams walks me back to the car. He opens the door and I slide inside. Concern shadows his eyes. "Anna, are you sure you're all right?"

The tears are what have him alarmed. I wipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand and cover with a sarcastic "Good touch, don't you think?"

I'm not sure he buys the sentiment but the attitude is familiar enough to spark relief. "I'll see you back here when it's over," he says. "I'll make sure no one follows you."

He closes the door, taps the roof with the palm of his hand, and the car whispers away from the curb.

Showtime.

I HATE CEMETERIES ALMOST AS MUCH AS I HATE hospitals, even one as beautifully manicured and landscaped as Mt. Hope. The reason is as obvious as the marble tributes we pass. Symbols of man's mortality. Since becoming vampire, all I've thought about is how different my reality has become. Being here emphasizes the difference in a tangible way. I'll see my parents in a place like this, even Trish and her children's children, and I'll go on until an accident or a Revenger ends it. Then, my body will disappear, just like Avery's, and there will be nothing, not a marker, not a name on a wall, nothing to note my having been here at all.

Despair, almost too painful to endure, floods over me. My brother is buried here, on the other side of the cemetery. The desire to jump out of the car and flee is strong. Somehow for a vampire to be here is a desecration of holy ground.

The car is slowing. I look out to see that we've crested the top of a gentle rise. There are trees here, big, old trees. Trees that predate men claiming the area as a repository for their dead. Mt. Hope dates back to the early California Mission days, and this is the oldest part of the cemetery. I understand why Williams chose it. Tall box hedges surround the perimeter and though I can't see what's behind them, I know it's where the police wait. I feel eyes on me.

The cop in front asks if he should come with me. He doesn't turn around to look at me when he speaks, but his eyes are focused on scanning the area. I figure he's probably a member of SWAT, too, which would explain why Williams chose him to accompany me.

I tell him no and climb out of the car. As quickly as it descended, the despair lifts. There's nothing now. No panic, no alarm, no heightened sense of danger. The quiet within is as complete as the quiet that surrounds me on the hilltop. Only the occasional whisper of wind in the treetops breaks the spell. Maybe it's the spirit of my brother come to offer solace. I've learned in the last few months that anything is possible.

Williams showed me on a map which grave site was supposed to be David's. The earth is freshly tilled and covered with sod. No stone has been erected and I wonder idly whose grave he commandeered for our purposes. Would the family have had to give permission?

I start toward the grave. Nothing happens, no one steps from behind one of the huge tree trunks to confront me. No shots ring out. Williams had thought to bring flowers for me to put on the grave and I have them in my hand. In the bag on my shoulder is a gun. If all goes as planned, I won't have to use it. Any minute now, I should hear the scuffle as the police apprehend our "Ghost" character and the charade will be over. David can reclaim his life and we can try to sort out all that's gone wrong between us. I realize I want that most of all.

The simplicity of it astounds me. I know what I want. I want to go back to chasing bad guys. Human bad guys. Williams doesn't know it yet, but my rogue hunting days are over. Killing is getting too easy. The Watchers will have to get along without me.

I'm at the grave site now and getting antsy. How long do I have to stand here? I stoop to place the flowers at the foot of the grave. I remain in that position for a couple of minutes, surreptitiously looking around.

Nothing. No movement. No sound. I can't stay here forever. Irritated, I straighten up. Williams' great plan is a bust. For all we know, The Ghost is long gone, satisfied that claiming one of us was enough. I turn on my heels and head for the car. Now what? What's David going to do now? Christ, what was Williams thinking when he put this stupid plan into effect?

The cop is still seated behind the wheel of the car when I get in and slam the door closed. "Let's get out of here," I snap.

This time, he turns in the seat to look at me. His cap is pulled low on his forehead and his blond hair is cut short and just touches the collar of his uniform. He has a neatly trimmed moustache the same color as his hair.

He smiles and his eyes give him away.

MANY THOUGHTS PASS THROUGH MY HEAD Simultaneously. I wonder how he managed to pull this off, how remarkably different he looks with just a change of hair style and color, how long he's known that David was alive.

The smile on his face broadens. "Welcome back, Anna," The Ghost says. "I've been waiting for you."

"I'll bet. So what happens now?"

He reaches across the seat and snags my bag with one hand. "We go back to the hospital. I know a back way out of this place, a service road. It will take a while for the police to figure out that Elvis has left the building. By that time, I'll have finished what I set out to do. The next time you and your partner visit this place, the circumstances will be different."

He says it like I should tremble at his words. But he doesn't wait to see if I am. He is confident that it could be no other way. He is used to inspiring fear. So, he turns away from me and starts the engine.

I have a number of options open to me. I can jump out of the car now, signal the police, and let them take care of him. I can reach across the seat and snap his neck the way I did Marta's. I can let him think he's won and allow him a few more minutes to gloat before I show him what fear really is.

He adjusts the rearview mirror to keep me in sight. It doesn't work, of course, and he gives up finally, mumbling that the damned mirror must be broken. He tells me to move over to the right side of the seat so he can see me as he drives.

"Would you like me to get into the front seat with you? You could keep a closer eye on me that way."

He reacts with surprise to the way I address him. He pulls the car over and reaches over the seat to backhand me. My head snaps back, and blood flows from a cut on my lip. I smile and touch the cut with my tongue, let the blood pool and lick at it. "Is that the best you can do?"

He doesn't answer. He's looking at me, wondering why I'm not acting the way he expects. His eyes don't reflect real curiosity, there'd have to be some shred of humanity for that. Idle, bored speculation is the most he can muster. "Do you know who I am?"