Observers - Sierra Aguirre-Stoker, Shane Barrett

This place is going to feature in Sierra’s nightmares. She really hates these kind of raids, when it’s worse than they assumed from their investigations.   These are some of the worst operations to come out of the newly public vampire world. People who’ve realized that there’s a new loophole in human rights legislation about human test subjects. It had been happening to the fae for years, but now vampires are a target too. And sick creeps like this, promising victims they’re working on finding a cure, only to imprison them and use them as lab rats, really make her skin crawl.
It’s been just as tough on her team. She saw how tight Wren was fastening cuffs, the greenish tint to Pete’s face in the dim light, the white-knuckled grip Saanvi had on her katar, the cold emptiness in Shay’s eyes when they got to the tiny, cramped cages lining the lab.
Saanvi and Pete have been taking the survivors up to transport vehicles, while Sierra and Shay finish clearing the lab. Once they’ve confirmed there are no stragglers hiding in the specimen freezer or the mop closet, they turn back to make their way out. And not a moment too soon for Sierra’s liking.
They’re almost through the main lab when Shay’s head whips around, attention caught by something Sierra’s senses aren’t sharp enough to see, hear, or smell.
She moves around to flank him, reaching for her gun, elbow brushing his arm with how crowded they are in the space, thanks to the tables and various pieces of horrifying equipment. “What…”
She’s startled him. The realization catches up at the same moment his hand swipes across her arm, drawing fresh blood. An inhuman snarl rips out of his throat, and he lunges toward her, eyes cold and icy blue.
He might have gotten one lucky hit in, but Sierra hasn’t trained this long to fight vampires for nothing. She blocks the next strike and catches Shay’s arm, pinning it away from her. She knows how he fights. She isn’t afraid for herself as much as she is for him.
This is her fault, but hunter internal affairs may not think so. All they’re going to see is a vampire liaison gone feral for no apparent reason. They’ll be lucky if the only repercussion is him being cut from the team.
“Shay. Stop.” She hopes she can snap him back. She’d prefer not to have to forcibly subdue him. She might still be able to get away with this, her team is the ones monitoring any continuing surveillance feed, and the whole arrest was so chaotic she can probably tell medical she got injured during that. The lab is full of broken glass and sharp edges. He continues struggling, and she winces as he twists sideways, trying to break her grip, slamming her hip into a steel exam table.
He feels trapped. Let go.
It goes against all logic, but somehow she knows it’s right. She releases her grip, lets him spin away from her in some macabre imitation of the way they danced at the hunters’ gala just last month. The ice in his eyes melts, eyes turning back to the cool grey of a spring lake.
“Sierra?” He looks down at her arm. “I…I’m sorry.”
She grabs a discarded lab coat from the back of a chair and wraps it around the cuts, making sure the inside is pressed against the wounds.
“I did that.” His voice is raw. And it’s not a question.
“I shouldn’t have startled you.” She shakes her head. “I know better.”
“I…” He turns away, and she can see his shoulders shaking.
“What did you see?”
He shakes his head. “Just a reflection. Damn it, it was just us.” He picks up a tool that looks something like a pair of pliers from a counter and flings it at the darkly shiny surface of what was once an exam lamp that could be swung over one of the tables. Glass shatters and jingles across the floor.
“It’s like I’m watching someone else. Whatever dark monster lives under my skin, lashing out.” He looks at the bloodstained floor, not at her. “I know it’s happening, I can see myself doing it, but I can’t make it stop.” There’s a choked sound to his voice, and if he was looking at her she’s sure she’d see tears shining in his eyes. “I was supposed to have a grip on it. If I don’t, I’m putting all of you in danger.”
“You’ve only been a vampire for three years. There’s still plenty of time to figure it out.”
“That could have been me,” He says softly, nodding toward the cages. “I might have believed them when they said they were trying to cure us. But I probably would just have been desperate enough to make this stop that it wouldn’t really have mattered if it was true.”
Sierra says nothing. If she was him, she’d probably feel the same way.
“I’m going to be like this forever.” He stares down at his hands. “It’s already been so long, I don’t know what parts of me are me and what parts are…this.”
“It’s all you. The you you are now.” Sierra says quietly.
Vampires may be undead, but some part of them really has died. The person they were, in some sense, is gone forever, replaced by a shadow copy with a darker nature. There are pieces of the past Shane Barrett inside the one she knows, but this is someone new.
“I hate it,” he whispers quietly.
“I don’t.” Maybe she would have, once, but she doesn’t see only an enemy when she looks at vampires anymore. This is the only version of him she’s ever met, and she doesn’t know what he was like before being bitten.
She’d tell him he’s not a monster, but that’s a lie. The truth is, they both are. In the end, everyone is. Somehow, some way. Everyone’s walking around with blood on their hands, some of it is just more visible than others.
And they have to live…and die…with that reality.
Sometimes she thinks monsters like Shay are the better people. At least they’re honest. At least with them, you know what you’re facing.
“I’ve never been all that good at knowing when to run.” Sierra puts a hand on his arm. “And when I do, I run toward the danger, not away from it.” He turns toward her. “We’re gonna do some damage. You because there is something inside you that defies control, me because I go in swinging when I’m confronted with anything to fight. I’ll go after the darkness and you’ll end up collateral damage, sometimes.”
“How exactly is this supposed to make me feel better?”
“Maybe we’re not the best people for each other. But we’re what we’ve got. And we’re willing to keep fighting, to keep trying. This is a colossally bad idea, we both know it, and we’re still here.”
They’re scarred. Damaged. And still standing.
Living and undead proof that sometimes, not knowing when to quit can be an asset.