The Watcher

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.