Path of the Vampire forum

Myk should have understood by now that some needs are optional and some are not. The Telepath could put off his cravings with lesser pleasures, but only for a time. Sleep was more a luxury than a necessity these nights, even if he was capable of tiring. Music was a beautiful motivator and cathartic influence too, but it could be drowned out by the serenading of the streets. Sexual satiation, even from the most arbitrary of places and people, was a fleeting escape and every tiny jewel that Myk could set his pewter eyes upon, quickly dulled with age and experience. These small things were mere distractions in the face of his desires, and inevitably, fatefully, Myk would always feel that hunger. It was that hunger, that growing ache that reached his innards and left him humming with fever and complaint, which Myk could never escape.

It was raining that night. The scent of life washed away with the pounding water, rinsing the world of its sins. From his silent stance beneath the stone overhang of a baroque archway, the Telepath relished the sights and sounds surrounding him. It was always a pleasant feeling to mix amongst these strange, oblivious folk. One of Myk’s favourite past-times was people watching and he often dressed purposely to stimulate responses. The Telepath’s wardrobe featured a wide range of outfits, from the damn-right terrifying, to mildly quirky, and occasionally normal, casual attire. Myk’s wardrobe had many styles as well, with Circus ware, Gothic-chic, Victorian themes, Steampunk, Kawaii, Cyberpunk, Fetish and Visual Kei featuring predominantly. Just as spontaneous and varied, was Myk’s selection of make-up, accessories, hair styles and shoes. As it happened, however, on this night Myk was absorbed in the shadows of reticence. The Telepath dressed plainly in stone-wash jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, his hair ironed flat in rivulets that poured down him like milk, and his features quiet; white foundation perfected his cashmere complexion, eye-liner and a single layer of mascara framed his pewter eyes.

Myk took in a breath as he closed his eyes; the oxygen wasn’t needed of course, but the habit was there. The inhale of damp, sweet air was also calming. The Telepath’s shoulders slumped and his back pressed against the wall. He could stay here for hours, undisturbed, unwatched and unwanted. Ordinarily these sentiments might have made the Vampire fret, but tonight, Myk needed to be alone. Yet, the comforting, clean scent of rain was soon dominated with blood, and the soothing patter of each heavy drop was drowned out by the beating of human hearts. The Telepath finally opened his eyes to gaze out at the city, pewter orbs full of contempt for any and all who dared to entreat on his attention.

Thump, thump, thump…

That sound. That all-encompassing sound was closer now.

Thump-thump-thump…

And quicker still.

Myk glared at those who scurried by him like frightened mice, but just like the lightning in the skies above, it all disappeared. All was silent once more, save for the rain, and the Telepath closed his eyes again.

The first sensation Myk could place as the dregs of a dreamless sleep crept away from him was the tug on his sleeve. Pewter eyes dripped down his own arm, crooning past ripped and stained fabric to the discrete, long-fingered hand that settled its weight on Myk’s elbow. The weight soon became a caustic pressure and the Telepath winced as the clasped hand became a fierce, tugging grip. Myk was turned sharply about and the force of the motion made his pewter eyes roll drunkenly in his skull. A high-pitched tone droned on in Myk’s ears, drowning out the voices of those around him. It was difficult to focus for a few moments, but Myk made out a prominent face amongst so much fog and darkness. Two piercing blue eyes pulled out of a roundish face, a square jaw hung low amid two boulder-sized shoulders. A torso, cloaked in a black and white uniform, lit up the part of Myk’s brain that recognised symbols. Pewter eyes, now clear and sharp, looked back to the policeman’s pug-like face.

“Whose blood is that?” the man barked.

Myk frowned, his movements sluggish and trembling and his mind bewildered. When he tried to remember the events of this night though, his memories scattered and floated away like paper scraps in an updraft. Myk snatched at the soaring memories, determined to remember, but he couldn’t collect enough to form a comprehensible picture. The first thing he could keep hold of was the memory of the rain and how he’d taken shelter beneath an archway near Cedar Court. He remembered the lightning flash and nothing more, nothing more than waking to this man leering at him and gripping his arm tight. Myk tried to pull away, pewter eyes closing slowly, but the policeman would not release him. The officer repeated his question and gave the Telepath a shake. Myk heard something rip. Impulse overcame hesitance and shock in that moment; Myk struck the Human with unpalatable force. The officer hit the ground with a slap and now shock, surprise and confusion ensnared a new victim. Pewter eyes stained with malice turned on the cowering mortal as Myk stepped forward. This armed police officer may have been twice the Vampire’s girth, but size never deterred him.

With a flicker of movement, Myk’s foot came down hard on the human’s wrist, trapping it between the floor and the sole of his combat boot. Sensing that the man might be reaching for a weapon, Myk felt he had no choice but to step in.

“Please don’t do that,” Myk hissed. “I know… I know you are just doing your job… But don’t shoot me… anymore…”

There was a strangled moan coming from the officer and he forced a hand under Myk’s boot to try and wrench the pressure off his wrist. Despite his willowy frame, however, Myk was stronger than he looked and the foot didn’t budge.

“If you promise…” Myk hissed again, rolling the words on his tongue as if savouring some sort of taste. “If you promise not to shoot me… I will let you go.”

The Telepath, unaware of his own appearance, was completely unaware of the world around him. The brick walls of the industrial buildings were only inches away from Myk’s shoulders, creating a narrow pathway that stretched on for metres; the concrete floor was damp, but drying; the sky was clouded over and it was no longer raining; yet Myk knew nothing of this. The Telepath was suspended in his own bubble, the world around him dark and blurry and unimportant. He remembered where he was, disregarded where he was now, and focused solely on the mortal writhing beneath his feet. The air around the Telepath was suddenly so much more predatory, as if the man was a tiger with the scent of injured prey thick in his nostrils. Myk’s once-white shirt, even his once-white hair was now blotched with dark crimson; drying blood spatters acting as the bands of this prowling tiger. Myk leant on that one foot pinning the Human to the ground and then snarled.

“Promise.”

The prompt, however, did not encourage a promise of safety. Knowing that he could not get his hand free, the police officer reached for the gun with his other, weaker hand, aimed and then fired. A howl carved down the alleyway as, ironically, a bullet punctured a lung. The Vampire staggered backward with a soundless gasp and subsequently continued to wheeze. Again, Myk didn’t need the oxygen, but basic instinct still told him to breathe and with each breath, the deflated sack of muscle pumped oxygen into his chest cavity. Obviously, basic instincts were stupid and so Myk refused to listen to the urge to fall down and succumb to suffocation. Instead, a hand applied itself to the wound’s entrance, damming the flow of cerise blood with fingertips alone. That 10mm bullet had done very little damage in spite of the proximity and in spite of the angle of penetration. The pellet had cut cleanly through from the chest and out of the highest rib on Myk’s back. Myk was lucky really. Had that gun been aimed but a fraction higher, that bullet would be lodged in his shoulder blade and would be very difficult to remove.

One cold, pale finger pushed through the opening in his shirt, in his flesh, and dug deep into his own chest. The officer on the ground stared in revulsion as the scene before him unravelled, not out of some terrible B Movie Horror Flick, but in flesh and blood standing right in front of him. Silence stretched as the seconds ticked past, all but the squelch of thick blood and some wet gasps invaded. The police officer began to crawl away, the scratch of metal on concrete as he dragged the gun with his hand made Myk stop. Pewter eyes shot forward, bloodied fingers pulling free from the opening in his chest. The retreating, vulnerable creature only encouraged the killer in Myk further, however. The sound pounding on the walls now was the drumming of this man’s heart – strong, loud, quick and terrified. Myk closed his eyes and stuck his nose into the air, breathing in the heat and pulse of it. His lower jaw hung loose at the joint, parting lips that were pale and clean mere hours ago but were now red and bruised, crusting and flaking away. A crimson route from his nostrils, to his cheeks, around his lips and to the foot of his neck was already evident, but what was less obvious was the tips of Myk’s sharp fangs that protruded just past his upper lip.

When the police officer had asked only moments ago whose blood covered Myk in that dramatic fashion, he must have supposed that his superior size would lead to the end of the butchery. Whether he believed that Myk was the victim or the butcher initially, however, no longer mattered. This white knight had made a grave error and he knew now that he was looking at death.

Cori heard the rain beating down upon the roof of the abandoned drug haven, in the slums. She had taken some time to collect some spare weapons that were strewn about and shoot the occasional gangster, if they crossed her path. She had avoided the police, this night… The police seemed to follow her everywhere she went. It was normal for them to be waiting for her when she exited a building, any building. It was time for her to get home..she dreaded walking the streets during a rainstorm. Tonight, she chose to go out the window to avoid any altercation with the police that stalked the slums. With bag in tow, chock full of broken weapon parts Cori exited the window of the den and headed to Veil Tower.

While Cori was human she was a up and coming attorney in one of the largest law firms in Connecticut. She had to converse with many a law enforcement officer, at varying levels. From beat cops to the Chief, she even called some of them friends. Since being turned, she had a different perspective of the police. Yes, they were here to protect and serve the city..but to her, they were the enemy. She did her best to avoid them, but it had become inevitable that they would follow her about...like dogs. She knew it was her fault...being so new to vampiric life, she had killed without thought..and sometimes, she had been careless. The life of a killer and she had chosen this path. As she walked through the rain soaked streets, the blood that had been spattered over her leather jacket washed away. She was soaked and tired and wanted to get back to the haven to shower and examine her bounty.

Almost home, she said to herself…

The rain had stopped and the noises of the city were beginning come alive, once again. Cori had been walking the streets for some time now... It was then that Cori heard a noise... It was a faint moaning sound and it was getting louder with each step Cori took. Coris curiosity always got the better of her. She made her way over to where the noise was coming from, wanting so badly to see what may have been making that moaning noise. With each step she took, the moaning noise got a bit louder..

Cori followed the moaning noises, that she heard over the rain… it is then that she saw him. It was Myk from Lancasters, he was standing over one of the boys in blue..stepping up in his throat. Cori smiled… not because she saw Myk, but because she saw an officer down on the ground. She had been shot by them enough to have developed a recent hatred. Cori approached with caution, as she did not want to disturb Myk. What she did want to do, is watch...watch and learn. She slowly approached the pair, coming at them from an angle...so that Myk was not surprised and could see it was her. All Cori could do in that moment was smile...

The sound that came from the back of Myk’s throat was not human, and the power and speed with which Myk used to pluck the officer from the floor and pin him to the wall was not particularly human either. Pewter eyes leered with the sharpness of diamonds at the man whose feet dangled precariously in the air. Instinct forced those large, warm hands to wind around those of the Vampire’s; Myk felt the tugging heat, the sharp bite of fingernails leaving red crescent marks and flaring lines on his hands, but he didn’t care. The sensations dulled under the immediate need to choke the life out of the officer, to squeeze the bulging trachea beneath the pads of his thumbs, to squash the Adam’s apple, to push and push until blood vessels burst and the skin tore. Still, there was no way of knowing how death would snatch this Human up; whether he would suffocate first or the pressure would pop his head clean off his shoulders. Myk considered the odds like a sickening wager, his thumbs pressing so deep that his manicured nails drew blood that trickled down his collar bones. As if this action may tip the scales some way toward the latter consequence, the Telepath smiled maniacally. The bloodier, the better…

Entranced as he was, Myk barely acknowledged the other Vampire looming in the alleyway beside him and if he had, he most certainly wouldn’t have recognised her as something to be wary of. The very nature of a Killer would surely approve of the sight before them; the savagery and the wanton disregard for consequences over the thrill of a squirming, weeping victim pulsating under one’s grip. That maddening scent of fear, permeating the mortal’s clothing like cigar smoke and curling around them both in lush, tickling tendrils as Myk pressured further, was too delicious to ignore. And the sounds the man made, this choking, gasping, wheezing gurgle of fight that broke out of him; Myk revelled in it. Pewter eyes stared at the small pink mouth opening for each morsel-breath, at the purplish-blue muscle that struck out at the air, eager for the taste of life. Myk dared to indulge it, weakening his grip just enough to allow oxygen to swell into the man’s lungs. The sweetness of life coursed through the mortal once more and Myk felt the throbbing soul in his hands so intensely that he was almost convinced that it was his own heartbeat. It was exquisite and intolerable; Myk’s hands closed around the officer’s throat once again.

The fragrance of the officer’s blood and desperation became so strong, so aromatic, that it filled the entire alleyway with its heady, alluring call. Myk could scarcely think around it, let alone focus on the other Vampire once he caught a glimpse of her in the darkness. With his hands clamped down, pewter eyes tore themselves off the mortal writhing against him and looked her way at last. He struck her a quizzical look at first, one that questioned why she was here, why she was watching him and what she wanted. He didn’t recognise any familiarity with the blonde Killer right away, so he kept his emotions as neutral as possible given the circumstances…

As Cori watched Myk, the man she had only recently met...her want to participate in what he was seemingly about to do was overshadowed by an intense feeling of dread. Cori was warned enough by Trahir… too many times actually. Not to make a scene, not to bring attention to our kind. As the white haired male stood in the alleyway with the struggling officer, Cori realized that Myk may not have this sense of dread.

The scent of fear and blood hit Cori, the thirst is almost too much to bare. She is hungry..and not just for blood. Cori has begun to love the thought of death, of killing another..it is her heroin. In that moment a brief flash goes off in her mind… Cori was crippled for a week for unknowingly breaking the masquerade...what would happen to Myk if he killed this officer in an alley where anyone could walk by. Cori had heard the noises, anyone within 200 feet could!!

Cori walked quickly up to the pewter eyed vampire… “Myk, it is Cori… we met the other night, you gave me your shoes,” she said in a low but firm tone. Cori walked up closer to the vampire and his human target… she placed both her hands upon Myk’s, the blood from the human trickled down between her fingers as she held Myk’s. “ Not here Myk, not with this one… we can find another, but not now.” Cori’s blue eyes showed a softness to them, a worry… she did not want her new friend to end up like she did...or even worse. “ Myk, let us clean this up and go somewhere, please.

Cori remained still, yet poised. She was a fighter and wanted to always be prepared… not that she thought that Myk would harm her, not at all. The thing is, Myk did not seem like the same man that she had met the other night...he was something quite different and she liked it, immensely

As the other Vampire approached, the Telepath visibly tensed. Instincts of a predator overcame any sense of rationality or humanity; pewter eyes leered at the incoming creature like this was not some street in Canada where people lived, but the jungles of Asia where tigers roamed. Myk’s lower jaw dropped enough to bare those wolfish teeth; the canines having extended in his jaw like dagger tips some minutes ago. He hadn’t been intending to use these fangs on another predator, but he was willing to defend his prey. This was his kill. If she wanted one, she should find herself some other morsel to pluck from the night. Why scavenge when food was plentiful? What a lazy, cowardly force he had come across tonight! These absurd judgements irritated the Telepath further and he was so caught up under this rising, fiery rage that he still couldn’t see her. The woman advancing on him had no face, she was merely a target. The Telepath closed his grip on the mortal, stopping the flow of oxygen completely as his eyes narrowed – the pupils becoming little more than feline slits in an ocean of liquid metal. Myk was about to overwhelm her mind with a barrage of confusing thoughts – a warning to back off, perhaps his opening attack – but all compulsions stopped at the sound of his own name being called.

With every injection of that name, sense and rationality flooded back to him. The fire and frustration calmed, there was no longer a thrashing of angst against his willpower. The metal in Myk’s eyes set into a soft stare as he looked the woman over. Cobalt blue eyes stood out to him first, frame by a face of Venus beauty. Cori… That was her name. Myk’s lips mouthed her name as he remembered the blonde Killer, as she wrapped her hands around his own and coaxed him out of his seething rage with honeyed words. On a sigh, Myk’s opened his fists, relieving the pressure on the man’s throat and life. The officer was, by now, already unconscious from a lack of air and so when Myk let him go, he sagged into the wall behind him and slid into a heap on the ground. The Telepath had to take a step back, a step away from under the weight of this man, this burden. Warm, pale hands were tugged away from Cori’s grasp as the Telepath moved away, aligning himself with the wall directly behind him so he could sag as well.

This was no time to sulk and lament, but the Telepath was helpless. The tiger had transformed into a kitten with the very mention of his name and now he was slumped against the brick wall of the alleyway, confused and distraught. His hand – coated in fresh blood from this officer and a dried caking from another, forgotten mortal – came up to palm his forehead before brushing through his hair. The smear of red and flakes of burgundy that it left behind didn’t look like blood, but more like paint. In fact, Myk’s entire appearance was reminiscent of a low-budget Zombie flick – not that he was aware of any of it. The last thing Myk did remember was walking in the rain, passing Humans that scurried by him like cockroaches, before everything went black. There were flashes of memories there when he blinked – green eyes that opened wide before a frost covered them – but Myk couldn’t fathom these images that assaulted him so infrequently, so less than linearly too. The Telepath’s eyes drift half shut, those grey irises shifting and swirling like storm clouds beneath long, dark lashes, his expression languid and accepting, as if he'd been drugged.

Cori saw the look in Myk’s eyes...it was the look of one that was lost in their own fury. The look was that of darkness that Cori assumed she had, while she was autopsying zombies underground. As if she was lost in the kill...as if the kill was hers and no-one would take it from her grasp. This was the look that Myk had. She said his name repeatedly and ensured that her tone was calm and monotone. Any sort of inflection to her voice, may have caused Myk to take her as an enemy...this was not the case, not at all.

Cori saw his eyes, they were not as she had recalled. He was looking at her as though she was unfamiliar, as if she was just an extension of the officer he was killing. “ Myk, it is Cori...please stop. Please just release him.” Cori did not lower her eyes to this older vampire, she stood her ground and prepared for what may come next. Myk was older, stronger and he had that mind ability...one she did not have. If he had wanted to, she could be his next target…

It was then, Cori felt his hands release form the officer...she also saw his eyes change back to that less than frightening gaze, that she had recalled. She had gotten through to him…

Cori watched as Myk slumped to the ground, as if he was coming to from some sort of trance or something… she wanted to comfort him and let him know that he had made the right choice. But, she realized that there was an unconscious police officer at her feet and she needed to do something about it.

Cori took the officer under the arms, from behind and raised his body from the ground. She needed to get him to a secure location, until she could figure out what the hell to do with him. Her gut instinct was to slice him up, herself and dispose of his body. That would certainly draw attention, attention that Cori did not want to bring upon herself or Myk. She spotted a secluded area behind a dumpster, that would be perfect for the time being. The officer was injured, badly..and would not be walking up anytime soon. After placing him in his designated spot, Cori went back to Myk.

“Myk, are you ok?” Cori went down to her knees, so that her face was parallel to the pewter eyed male. She took his hands, that were caked in dried blood, within hers and held them… “ Myk, I need you to talk to me...we need to do something with this officer.”

Myk blinked. Lost somewhere on the path between confusion and alarm, he felt submerged by his failings and suspended by the need to flee. Cori was there – he was aware of her now – but she moved at a pace he couldn’t keep track of. At one point she was there beside him, watching the show, and in the very next instant she was gone, only to reappear at his side within a blink of an eye. All too suddenly, Myk was aware of the Killer’s new proximity. Cori's scent, like dewy apple blossoms and cinnamon-spice tickled his nose; her voice, as smooth as syrup and very nearly as sweet stippled his hearing; her touch, blessedly cool and soft was holding his hands in an affectionate grasp; and when the Telepath looked up through his lashes, his field of vision was filled with Cori's beautiful face, blonde hair, and the darkness of her clothes... although they seemed a bit hazy. Pewter eyes dropped like stones to examine the contact of cold against his strangely warm body. It was then that he realised that his hands, his arms and his shirt, were covered in varying stages of drying blood. The Telepath stiffened, his back chaffing against the brickwork even despite the covering of his shirt. Myk drew his hands away from her and held them to his face for inspection.

Of course he knew his thumbs, his palms, might be bloody; Myk could still feel the tacky warmth of the fresh liquid on his nails, the pads of his thumbs, running down the muscle toward his wrists before aligning itself with the scars that spanned the length of his forearms. The caking of aged blood beneath this fresher coating, however, was startling. The appearance made those pewter eyes widen in shock and his lower jaw to drop, instigating a tiny, horrified gasp. It looked exactly like he had thrust his arms into someone’s chest cavity…

“What have I done?”

The Telepath kept this frightened thoughts to himself rather than project them into the minds of others – as many of his path were accidentally accustomed. Nevertheless, the sentiment was clear to anyone that was looking at him. With Cori being so close, so aware of the world around her, there was no doubt that even though Myk had said nothing, that Cori could read those thoughts like they were imprinted in the creases of his frown. She would have to be quick, though, for as soon as Myk’s sights had caught on his own hands, they were moved to inspect the alleyway.

“The officer…” Myk hissed.

The Telepath found the black sack of a figure dumped beside the trash can, looking no more conspicuous than the rest of the trash, but he knew that wouldn’t do. Myk wasn’t fully aware of how the body had gotten there, but he looked back to Cori with clarity once more beaming in his pewter eyes.

“We can’t leave it there. If it’s alive. It must be left someplace safe. If it’s dead… It has to disappear…”

While the Telepath wasn’t always capable of controlling his psychosis, he was careful to clean up the aftermath. There were many methods at his disposal, but Myk had to be more wary with his partner in crime than anything else. He knew Cori enough to like her, but he didn’t trust her. Myk trusted no one in actual fact. Her actions would reveal her intentions in time and in that time, Myk had some cleaning up to do. The Telepath used the brickwork behind to shimmy his way up to his feet, and once standing, Myk stepped carefully into the darkness toward his victim. Still several feet away, he could hear the officer’s slow, ragged breathing and the thump-thump-thump of a frightened heart. Alive, but unconscious, though just to be sure, Myk walked closer and gave the man a nudge with the toe of his boot. The body beneath jerked reflexively, but settled quickly.

“It’s alive…” Myk crooned, his voice sounding somewhat disappointed. “That’s annoying…”

Cori watched a transformation happen before her eyes. Myk was not like he was when they met in Lancasters..he was more carnal..more like a vampire. Cori hated to admit it to herself, because she liked the Myk she had met in the bar. He was warm and kind...he made her feel good and had offered to teach her things about his path. This person in front of her was so very different...but she liked it even more. Cori liked it so much that a rather large grin came over her face. Maybe he was like her..maybe she could tell him about her hobby in the sewers.

“ He is alive and we need to do something quickly, Myk. What do you have in mind. I really do not care what is done, as long as the issue at hand is taken care of.” Cori looked around at their surroundings...they were not hidden and she was concerned that at any moment they could be seen. Cori knew what could happen if they were spotted and reported. She had lived through the agony of a crippling wound for over a week..and she did not want to go through it again. She did not want Myk to endure that...in an odd way, she felt he would not be able to handle it..that it may change him in a way. That worry coupled with the fact that she had a need to protect him...made the urgency for them to do something with the officer crucial.


Cori watched as the pewter eyed vampire seemed to drift a bit… she moved so that she faced him directly. She took his hand in hers and felt the sticky remnants from his interaction with the officer. “ Myk, please...we need to do something NOW!” Cori’s tone was now elevated..she wanted him to understand the sense of urgency. She wanted to rid themselves of the issue that was behind the dumpster...

Pewter eyes may have been a bit lost as he considered his options, but they were as sharp as arrowheads when she took his hands and all but shouted at him. The jerk awake, while shocking, was what Myk truly needed. He’d been coming around slowly for the past ten minutes and now the clarity had struck him like a cold slap. Cori had confessed that she didn’t care what they did provided they did it now. Impulse turned Myk onto the idea of just burning the man up or dropping him in the river. Of course the Telepath had certain charms that could confuse or trick a dull mind into believing whatever he wanted them to, but he couldn’t erase their memories. If he could, the officer would wake with no memory of what happened here and an aching neck and wrist – a mundane pain that could be explained away by something as simple as sleeping funny. Of all the symptoms Myk could thrust upon another, unfortunately amnesia was not one of them. The best the Vampire could do was find a nice hotel room and put crazy thoughts into his head – events and experiences that would mask the ones he experienced tonight and make him believe he’d dreamt these ordeals. With the plan in mind, the Telepath nodded at the blonde.

“Grab his arm and put it over your shoulder,” Myk commanded as he took hold of the other arm. “We need to find a hotel room or motel or… whatever… I’ll sort the rest out from there.”

Since Myk couldn’t remember where they were, he was hoping that Cori could come up with a location suggestion. He didn’t care where they went provided it was close and the staff wouldn’t ask questions. They could masquerade as party goers – the police officer, the zombie and the… party girl? No one would really question what costume Cori was or wasn’t wearing because she was a female and would easily be able to smile and lie her way out of it. A little bit of cleavage never hurt either in extreme circumstances. While either one of the Vampires could carry the officer with a single arm, they had to pursue with Myk’s charade. It would look the part if they struggled to carry this man – this drunken and not unconscious man – with one shoulder each to a hotel room. Myk decided that – just in case – he would explain his plan to Cori and hoped she would be compliant.

“If anyone asks, he’s blind-drunk and we just came from a fancy dress party up town. It was a private party. Some friends of ours just turned 21…”

Myk paused to look the officer over. Those creases in his brow, around his eyes, wouldn’t allow him to pass for a youth. The Telepath sighed, realising he’d need a better cover story for their drunken friend. Maybe Cori and he could pass for young, but this male had to be in his late 30s.

“Well, I’m hoping no one will ask why we were at the party anyway. People aren’t always so inquisitive so we might just be fine. But we need to find somewhere we can leave this man. I’ll make him think this was all some horrible dream and then I’ll shower because I smell.”