Darkest Night

“What about you?” he said. “Do you still miss Shaun?”

Kate grimaced, but gave a brief nod. “Every day,” she said. “Being here makes it harder, to be honest. When people lose somebody out there, they grieve for as long as it takes and then they get to forget about them. I know that sounds bad, and I don’t mean they never think about the person again, but they forget enough to be able to carry on. I get reminded of Shaun every day. Every single day. I see his dad, or one of his friends, or I find myself somewhere we had a conversation. It’s like I’m not allowed to move on.”

Jamie’s heart ached for his friend as she spoke, and he was momentarily furious with Shaun Turner for leaving her like this, trapped by his memory, unable to mourn him and let him go. But it wasn’t Shaun’s fault; he hadn’t asked to have his neck broken by Valeri Rusmanov, hadn’t done anything to deserve the fate that had befallen him apart from fight bravely against almost overwhelming odds.

“I’m sorry,” said Jamie. He picked up his beer, found it empty, and took a long drink from his fourth bottle. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m really sorry, Kate.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, and gave him a fierce smile. “But thank you for saying it.”

“No worries,” he said. “I was going to ask you about your dad, but maybe we’ve spent enough time discussing friends and family?”

Kate’s smile curdled into a frown. “Oh, on the contrary,” she said. “I’m happy to talk about him. I assume you read that stupid website interview?”

“I read it,” said Jamie. “I take it you weren’t thrilled?”

“That would be putting it very, very mildly,” said Kate, a slight edge to her voice. “I mean, I get that SSL is him trying to make a difference, and I suppose I’m proud of him for that, but I’ll never understand why he decided to tell the whole world that Matt and I work for the Department. Not only was it a crime, given that they both signed the Official Secrets Act, but it was just such a stupidly dangerous thing to do. If SSL hasn’t already made them targets to the people that hate anyone who seems like they’re on the side of the vamps, what do they think announcing that they’re related to serving Blacklight Operators is going to do? What happens when the next psycho with a grudge against the Department decides they can get to me and Matt by hurting our dads? And what if I can’t protect him if that happens? It’s ridiculous, Jamie. It’s absolutely ridiculous. I’m so angry with him.”

Jamie leant forward. “That’s all fair,” he said. “Are Surveillance keeping an eye on him?”

“Yes,” she said. The colour that had risen in her cheeks as she spoke was starting to recede. “There’s a standing watch on him and Greg. But watching is one thing. Dealing with anything that happens is something else.”

“Right.”

“Anyway,” said Kate, “I’m doing what I can from Security. I just have to trust the two of them not to get themselves into any trouble.”

Jamie smiled. “How are you getting on with that?”

Kate laughed. “Pretty badly,” she said. “I sometimes forget which one of us is the parent.”

Jamie nodded, and drained his beer. His body felt pleasantly loose, his head warm and fuzzy.

“God,” said Kate, holding her own empty bottle up to the light. “I’m going to regret this when my alarm goes off tomorrow, but I really don’t care right now. This has been nice, Jamie. I think I needed it.”

“Me too,” said Jamie. “Although what I really need right now is to lie down.”

“Good plan,” said Kate, and smiled at him. “Let’s call it a night.”

Jamie got to his feet, and immediately realised that he was quite a bit drunker than he had thought; he felt unsteady on his feet, as though he was swaying gently from side to side. He looked at Kate and grinned; the expression on her face told him that she had made exactly the same discovery as him. She giggled as she noticed him staring at her, and shook her head.

“This isn’t fair,” she said. “You can just sober up whenever you want. I’m stuck like this.”

Jamie recoiled. “I can do what?”

“Your vampire side sobers you up. Larissa found out in Las Vegas. Don’t you remember?”

“Shit,” said Jamie. “That is seriously tempting. But you’re right, it wouldn’t be fair. I’ll suffer with you.”

“Solidarity,” said Kate. “I respect that. Let’s get out of here.”

Jamie followed her across the mess, concentrating hard on walking in a straight line. He nodded at Operators he knew as he passed their tables, forcing what he hoped was a sober-looking expression on to his face, and walked stiffly through the door. Kate was waiting for him in the corridor, her face red with suppressed laughter, and they cracked up as they staggered towards the lift, giggling and loudly shushing each other.

The two Operators got out on Level B and made their way along the curved corridor that, under normal circumstances, housed much of the active roster. Several of the rooms were currently empty; their occupants had been lost during the battle with Dracula at Château Dauncy, and had not yet been replaced, despite the Department’s subsequent recruitment drive. The Loop, as a result, did not feel full; the corridors seemed too empty, the canteen too sparsely populated, like a physical reminder of the ultimate price that had been paid by so many.

They stopped outside the door to Kate’s quarters. Jamie smiled at his friend, suddenly very aware of how close they were standing to one another. His hands were at his sides, but he would barely have to move them to take hold of her waist. Kate was looking back at him with an even, clear-eyed expression, but there were patches of delicate pink high on her cheeks. Silent seconds passed as they stared at each other, a tension between them that Jamie had never felt before.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Kate. She placed her hands gently on his shoulders, and kissed him. He kissed her back urgently, his eyes closing, his hands sliding up her back and neck and finding her hair, waiting for his stomach to spin, for the same dizzying abandon he had felt whenever he kissed Larissa.

Nothing happened.

After a long, awkward moment, he gently broke the kiss. Kate was looking at him with an expression of great affection, but the colour had faded from her face, and he suspected she was trying not to laugh.

“That didn’t really work, did it?” she said.

“No,” said Jamie, grinning at her. “It didn’t. My mum will be so disappointed.”

Kate laughed, and shook her head. “I love you, Jamie,” she said. “You’re my best friend.”

“I love you too,” he said. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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Paul Turner was reading through a requisitions order from the Security Division for fifty new MP7s and fifteen thousand rounds of ammunition when somebody hammered on his door.

He frowned, and pushed the form to one side. An unscheduled knock on his door was highly unusual; anyone who wanted to see him was required to send a message first, and a Security Operator was stationed outside his quarters for the express purpose of preventing people from turning up unannounced. Turner reached out and pressed the TALK button on the intercom that connected him to his protection detail.

“Gregg?” he said. “Report in.”

There was a burst of static, and then the Security Operator’s voice appeared; the young American sounded out of breath, as though he had just finished a long run.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Gregg. “They pushed past me, but I have the situation under control.”

Turner’s frown deepened. “Who pushed past you?”

“Karlsson and Browning, sir,” said Gregg. “I told them you weren’t available, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Browning jumped me from behind, the little shit. I’m waiting for Security to come and collect them, sir.”

“For pity’s sake, Operator,” said Turner, getting up from his desk and walking across the room. “Your enthusiasm is admirable, but do you really think that arresting two senior members of the Lazarus Project is in the best interests of this Department?”

There was a long pause. “I don’t know, sir,” said Gregg, eventually. “It was a clear breach of protocol.”

Turner rolled his eyes. “Call off your alert and go back to your post, Operator. I’ll see Karlsson and Browning now.”

“Yes, sir,” said Gregg, instantly. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine,” said Turner, and pressed his ID card against the black panel beside the door. The heavy locks disengaged, and he pulled the thick metal hatch inwards to reveal Matt Browning and Robert Karlsson standing in the corridor outside. Both looked dishevelled, and Browning was bright red in the face. Beyond them, he could see Tom Gregg peering along the corridor, a nervous look on his face.

“Gentlemen,” said Turner, “Operator Gregg was right, this is a breach of protocol. You couldn’t have sent a message telling me you needed to see me?”