Wanted (In More Ways Than One)

An Explosive Meet-up

The sharp trill of the phone cut through Michael’s focus like an unexpected bullet. He plucked the receiver from its stand with a sigh.

“D.I. Michael Wyles here.”

“I’ve got a caller asking to be transferred to you,” said Cunliffe, sounding rather bewildered. 

“Who is it?” Michael asked curiously, glancing at his boss’ office and wondering what could be causing the man to sound so... shocked.

“Ezra Romero.”

Michael’s eyes widened before narrowing into slits. “Put him through and trace the call.”

There was a short beep and Michael knew that his boss was still listening to the line despite the new connection to Romero.

“How’s my favourite detective doing?” Ezra asked and Michael could already picture his infuriating smirk.

“Great until you called.”

“Ouch,” hummed Ezra, a chuckle falling from his lips. “Come, now, detective. I’ve called to help. You’re not going to turn me away, are you? After all, it’s not the first time you’ve needed me, is it?”

Michael grit his teeth and hoped that the tracing machine wouldn’t fail. “What do you want?” he growled.

“Not much of a conversationalist, are you?”

“I’m in no mood for games, Romero,” Michael warned. “Get on with it.”

Ezra gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine. If you don’t want my help, I won’t offer it.”

The line suddenly went dead and Michael blinked at the receiver for a moment as he realised that the vampire had hung up. He hadn’t expected Ezra to cut the call and now he wasn’t sure what to do.

After a few minutes of silence, Michael slowly placed the receiver back on the hook and raised his gaze to his boss’ office. He looked away sheepishly when he noticed Cunliffe staring at him with wide, surprised eyes.

The phone rang.

Michael snatched it up and Ezra’s voice lilted through the speaker. “Now, how about we try this again?” hummed the vampire, casually. “This time without the tracer?”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “How did you get this line and if you already had the number, why did you go through my boss first?”

There was a soft chuckle. “I have my sources. Now, are you going to tell your boss to stop the trace he’s just started, or do I have to hang up again? If you stop the trace, I’ll tell you something important about Lime Street station.”

Mouth drawing into a thin line but curiosity winning out, Michael growled down the line, “Hold.” Then, he called his boss.

“He says stop the trace or he’ll hang up.”

“And you’re entertaining him?” Cunliffe asked, surprise filtering through his tone.

“He has something important to tell me, apparently. About Lime Street station.”

“How will he know if I stop the trace or not?”

Michael mused over the question for a moment before deciding to try his luck. “Keep it running.” He switched over to Ezra once more.

Ezra tutted disapprovingly over the line before hanging up. A minute later, he called back and Michael ground his teeth together.

“So,” Ezra chirped playfully. “What have we learned?”

Michael rolled his eyes and transferred to Cunliffe once more, ordering him to stop the third trace. Cunliffe reluctantly agreed and Michael returned his attention to the irritating vampire.

“You got what you wanted,” grumbled Michael. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”

Ezra chuckled again and Michael could picture his smug smirk. The mental image annoyed him to no end.

Finally, Ezra sobered and his voice lowered into something more sombre. “At five o’clock, a man is going to head downstairs to the green line platform. He’ll get on a train to Liverpool Central and leave a laptop bag in one carriage, then immediately exit the train via a different carriage. The laptop bag contains a bomb and is set to go off at four minutes past five.” He sounded more urgent now. “People are going to get hurt.”

Michael bristled. “How do you know all of this? Are you the one placing the bag?”

“Why would I call you if I was the one placing the bag?” Ezra snapped, sounding genuinely angry. “What reason would I have to hurt innocent people? Haven’t I proved myself enough that I’m trying to help?”

Michael almost felt guilty for the accusation, but Ezra was still a vampire and Michael still didn’t trust him – with good reason, considering his steadily growing list of crimes.

“How do I know that this isn’t a trick? For all I know, you could be pranking me,” Michael muttered, not entirely convinced that Ezra wasn’t trying to make a fool of him and have him waste his time at a busy train station without reason. It certainly seemed like his sense of humour.

He winced when Ezra suddenly snarled down the phone, “People are going to die if you don’t get off your arse and do something!”

Finally, Michael dared to believe him.

“What will the man look like?” Michael asked quietly as he began to scribble down details in his notebook.

“I... I don’t know,” Ezra admitted, and he sounded uneasy by that fact, frustrated even. “All I’ve got is a time and a place.”

Michael hesitated. “How do you know about this?” he asked, finally.

Ezra sighed and remained quiet for a long while, but when Michael thought that he wouldn’t answer, the vampire spoke. “I thought they were my friends. I overheard them talking about ‘making someone pay’. I don’t know who they were talking about or what happened, but they were discussing plans to blow the train up this afternoon. They didn’t know I was there and I didn’t speak to them, but I’m pretty sure they’ve hired someone to do the job.”

Michael scowled, scribbling more notes. “You know the people who set it all up? Give me their names.”

Once again, Ezra hesitated and Michael narrowed his eyes impatiently. “Whose side are you on here, Romero?”

“It’s not that simple,” Ezra snapped. “You don’t understand; these guys are my friends. They helped me when I needed it most and I can’t... I can’t just throw them to the wolves. Literally.”

Gripping his pen tighter, Michael lowered his voice. “They’re willing to murder innocent people. Families. Children. Now, you said that you wanted to help – that you didn’t want to hurt anyone. Protecting your so-called ‘friends’ is going to get people hurt. Give me their names and the police will handle it.”

“I’ve given you the details,” Ezra whispered after a long moment. “You can catch the guy carrying the bomb. You don’t need to know anything else.”

“Romero, don’t you dare! So far, you’ve been a mildly irritating thief and vandal. Do you really want to add ‘accessory to murder’ to your list?” Michael barked, gaining the attention of some nearby officers. He glared at them and they turned away with eye rolls and quiet mutters.

“...You can’t do that.” 

He almost sounded afraid, thought Michael. Good.

“That’s how the courts will see it. It’ll go down in your file forever. I’ll give them all the evidence they need to lock you up.”

“You know I’m not a murderer,” Ezra growled, but his cocky facade was slipping and Michael knew that he had his claws in deep.

“Prove it.”

“They’re the closest thing to a nest I have,” Ezra exclaimed desperately. “I can’t! I need them!”

Michael frowned as a thought dawned on him. “They’re vampires?”

“Yes,” hissed Ezra. “Yes, and they’ve helped me out too many times for me to betray them. I’m sorry, but I’ve given you all the information I can.”

“Wait-”

“Goodbye, Michael.”

“Ezra, don’t-”

The line went dead and Michael swore under his breath as he slammed the phone down. He knew that he couldn’t trust the vampire, but for a moment there, he’d almost believed...

Obviously, Ezra was just as much a filthy criminal as he’d initially deemed him. If there was one thing in Michael’s life that stayed constant, it was that vampires were cruel and evil and they didn’t deserve to live. Ezra was just as selfish and sadistic as the rest of his kind.

Next time he saw the vampire, he would lock him away for as long as the courts would allow.

* * *

The underground platform was cold and dimly lit. People shuffled about it with their hands stuffed in their pockets and their noses buried in their phone screens, avoiding eye contact wherever possible. Usually, the people of Liverpool were friendly and willing to chat but when five o’clock struck, everyone rushed out of work, wanting nothing more than to go home and forget about the tedium of the daily grind.

Michael surveyed the platform carefully, looking for the man that Ezra had described, but there were dozens of people with laptop bags and any one of them could have been waiting to plant a bomb.

Upstairs, Cunliffe was frantically trying to get in touch with the station’s management in order to stop the green line trains from running. However, since Ezra had only called at four o’clock, they hadn’t had much time to notify Lime Street and now Michael was starting to sweat. There had to be at least one hundred people on the platform and there was no way that Michael could search through that many people, even with Ishani’s help on the opposite side of the platform.

He glanced at the platform clock and its blocky orange digits. They glowed ominously at the bottom of the black screen.

16:58

There was a loud screech and a flicker of headlamps and Michael’s pulse accelerated as the train slowly pulled into the platform. It was a garish yellow and decorated with advertisements from Liverpool’s many universities. The doors alarmed as they opened and passengers dispersed from the carriages before the people on the platform began to filter on. 

He still had no idea who was carrying the bomb and, judging by Ishani’s wide-eyed expression, neither did she.

17:00

Michael swallowed nervously and made his way towards the train. There wasn’t time to vacate the train and platform. Why hadn’t the station master stopped all journeys? Had Cunliffe not been able to get in touch with him?

17:01

Michael looked between the carriages frantically. There was no way he would be able to find the perpetrator in time.

“Everyone off the train immediately!” he yelled. “Police! There’s a bomb!”

The passengers were slow to react due to the cacophony of noise of too many people talking at once. Some people bolted off the train, but others merely sent him curious glances, straining to hear what he was saying, with some showing complete disinterest.

“Bomb!” Michael roared and whilst many people launched into action, there were still a few that glanced to one another in confusion, unable to hear. The next carriage remained seated, blissfully unaware of Michael’s shouts.

17:02

There was a tap on his shoulder and Michael whirled around, wide-eyed and frantic. 

Ezra stared back, gaze slightly wild. He grabbed Michael’s arm and dragged him into the next carriage as passengers sprinted off the train. It appeared that Ishani was emptying the first carriage and working her way backwards.

Ezra looked around hurriedly and suddenly pointed at a man jostling to get off the train. He was young, with black hair, thin-rimmed glasses, and a charcoal suit. He looked a lot like a student, although he carried no laptop case and at first, Michael was confused, but then he saw Ezra reaching for an unattended bag below one of the seats and he quickly understood.

He launched after the young man and pushed himself faster than humanly possible. He tackled the man to the ground and pinned him down, glancing over his shoulder to see Ezra sprinting down the railway at vampire speed with the laptop bag clasped in his fist.

17:04

The explosion echoed through the tunnel, followed by the sound of crumbling bricks. Passengers screamed even though the platform remained untouched and some ducked for cover whilst others scrambled over one another in their haste to climb the stairs.

Michael’s heart thundered in his chest as his sensitive ears rang with white noise. The man beneath him cursed and struggled against him, but Michael held firm, barely restraining a growl. 

“You’re under arrest for terrorism,” Michael snarled amidst the chaos of screaming and crying passengers. He was thankful that the man appeared to be human – he wasn’t sure if he could have prevented himself from transforming had he been facing a vampire and, amongst so many terrified humans, that would have been quite the disaster.

He recited the rest of the spiel as Ishani attempted to calm everyone and he noticed his boss and a few other officers jogging downstairs to help with damage control. He dragged the criminal to his feet none too gently and shoved him towards the stairs. On his way, however, he found himself glancing into the tunnel, searching for a familiar face.

He began to think the worst had happened when suddenly, a tiny white bat soared towards the platform ceiling. It landed on a small grate and clung to it as it turned to regard Michael. It looked a little dirty and exhausted, but it squeaked at Michael upon seeing him and Michael found himself oddly relieved as he marched the human upstairs and into the police car.

* * *

The station was practically empty, save for the few night crew, and Michael was just about to turn the lights off when his desk phone rang.

Curious, he meandered over and lifted the receiver. “Hello?”

“So, today was fun. We should do it again some time,” purred a familiar voice.

A small smile graced Michael’s lips. “You saved a lot of people today. Thank you.”

There was an amused huff. “Nah. You saved them. Couldn’t have got that case off the train without you.”

Michael lowered himself gracefully into his chair. “We wouldn’t have even known about the bomb if you hadn’t told us.”

Ezra hummed in contemplation. “True. Still, you’re the one who caught the guy. I just lobbed a bag into a tunnel and caused structural damage.”

“You saved lives,” Michael pointed out. “You’re practically a hero.”

“Thought I was an accessory to murder?” Ezra replied airily and Michael frowned.

“Well... no one died, so... I suppose you’re in the clear.” He hesitated. “However, it would be really helpful if you could give the names of the people who organised it. They shouldn’t be gifted the opportunity to try again.”

Ezra’s voice hardened. “No, Michael. I won’t rat them out. Besides, apparently, there was a Hunter on that train – a Hunter that shot one of my friends in the shoulder. That’s who they were targeting.”

“So that makes it okay to kill all those other innocent people?” Michael demanded, temper rising. “Dozens of people dead over one Hunter?”

Ezra huffed in irritation and Michael grit his teeth. The vampire couldn’t possibly agree that it was ok to murder innocent humans for the sake of a non-lethal shot, could he? Surely, he wasn’t that morally corrupted?

“It’s not okay,” Ezra mumbled finally, “but we are talking about a Hunter, here. They’re evil. They don’t care who they kill as long as it’s not human. He shot my friend, so he deserves to be punished.”

“And you’re willing to sacrifice innocent lives in order to do that?” Michael asked, knuckles turning white. “And here I was, thinking you were different. Thinking you were better than the rest of your kind.”

He could hear the anger bleeding through Ezra’s tone. “My kind? Right, because your lot are any better. You wolves hunt those who are alone and terrified. You hunt in packs. How many vampires have you killed, detective? How many of us have you cut down without a thought to our families and friends?”

“Not enough,” snarled Michael viciously, memories returning to his own slaughtered family. In truth, he had never actually killed anyone, but he had certainly injured a fair number of vampires who had attacked him first. “Clearly not enough if you have friends who are happy to blow up a station!”

“You’re just like the Hunters,” Ezra snapped furiously. “You’re just as cruel and sadistic! Well, I’ll never give you the names of my friends. Never. Label me whatever you like, but I’ll never tell you anything.”

Michael wanted to argue, but something in Ezra’s tone made him pause. The vampire sounded fierce and emotional and Michael wondered if he had hit a fragile nerve. He mused over the situation carefully; Ezra had given up his friends’ plans, so he clearly didn’t agree with them hurting innocent people despite his current behaviour. Yet, he was obviously protective over his friends in the same way that a werewolf was protective over his pack. He had a strong opinion of Hunters – far stronger than Michael’s opinion – suggesting that Ezra had first-hand experience with them.

“How old are you, Ezra?” Michael asked neutrally, making Ezra pause in surprise.

“...Twenty-two,” the vampire replied suspiciously.

Michael leaned back in his chair. “Do you have a job?”

“Now, why would I give you that information?” Ezra asked, exasperated.

“What do your parents think of this unlawful hobby of yours? Thieving, vandalising, breaking into people’s homes and livelihoods...?”

Ezra’s tone was icy. “I don’t have parents. Not anymore. Not after the Hunters found us.”

Michael fell silent as his suspicions proved correct. Ezra had lost his nest to Hunters in much the same way that Michael had lost his pack to vampires.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said softly after a few moments and Ezra fell quiet.

“No, you’re not,” Ezra whispered bitterly. “You hate vampires. You’re probably glad.”

Michael shook his head, heart aching at the accusation. “I lost my parents when I was ten,” he offered.

“...How?”

“Vampires broke in to our farm and slaughtered them. My sister too.” His chest hurt and he closed his eyes to stop them from watering. He had never really learned to talk about his pack and therapy wasn’t particularly appealing to him since no human understood what it meant to be part of a pack. His grandparents had taken care of him as best they could, but they were distraught at losing their daughter and they died a few years later – most likely due to broken hearts rather than any of the other ailments the doctors recorded. Werewolf pack bonds were stronger than humans could understand.

It was sheer determination and willpower that had stopped Michael from succumbing to a similar fate.

There was a sharp inhale from Ezra as the pieces clicked together. “Michael, I... I’m sorry. I didn’t know. No wonder you hate me...”

Wasn’t that interesting? Ezra sounded genuinely apologetic; sincere in a way he had no reason to be. Michael’s brows pinched together in confusion.

“It was a long time ago,” Michael huffed.

“It still hurts though, doesn’t it?” Ezra whispered; voice pained in a way that spoke of experience. “Every time you think of them. Every time someone says something that reminds you of them. It’s like a piece of you is missing and your heart hurts and your head aches and you can’t focus on anything around you for those few seconds because you miss them so much and you want them back, but you know you’ll never see them again.”

Michael swallowed, pressing the phone closer to his ear. It was an accurate description. “You can’t breathe,” he whispered after a moment. “Your chest gets too tight and everything feels hot and you have to squeeze your eyes shut so no one sees how much you’re breaking.”

“And when people ask how you are, you tell them that you’re fine because no one really cares,” Ezra whimpered. “And it’s so exhausting having to explain that your parents are gone to every new person who asks. And they offer a single line of condolence and that’s the end of the matter – as though your whole life hasn’t changed. As though it’s something in the past that shouldn’t affect you anymore. As though you don’t spend every waking moment of your life missing the parents you didn’t even get to say goodbye to.”

Michael brushed away the tear rolling down his cheek and exhaled shakily. He could hear Ezra’s breaths trembling down the line and found himself clinging to the receiver. “I was once told to keep my feelings hidden because people get bored of you when you’re sad.”

Ezra huffed a broken laugh. “Yeah. My friends said that if I was still upset after a year, people would think there was something wrong with my brain – that if anyone found out I still cried over my parents, they would throw me into a psychiatric ward.”

“The same friends from today?” Michael demanded.

“Yes.”

Michael growled, strangely angry. “Ignore them. They’re wrong. There’s nothing wrong with grieving. Why are you still friends with them?”

“I didn’t know who else to go to and they took me in,” Ezra murmured. “I didn’t want to go to a home and I didn’t have any other family left. The Hunters killed my entire nest.”

Rage simmered low in Michael’s gut and he blinked at himself in surprise, not expecting the out-of-character feelings.

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen. Barely remember anything about that year. Everything felt... broken. I was a shell.”

Michael let his eyes slide shut. “I went off the rails,” he admitted. “Got into fights. Ran away from home. My grandparents were furious and the school didn’t know what to do with a broken ten-year-old. They offered anger management and I got kicked out for throwing a chair at a teacher. They tried a therapist and I just refused to speak. I even hospitalised my best friend. That was the final straw. I told myself that I couldn't ever allow my emotions to get the better of me again, otherwise I was no better than the vampires that had slaughtered my pack."

It felt... satisfying to finally tell someone about everything; as though a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. Michael relaxed into his chair.

“So, you keep your emotions bottled up?” Ezra asked carefully and Michael could picture his frown. “That’s... not healthy.”

“But hospitalising my best friend was?” Michael scoffed. “It’s better this way. Better than feeling too much.”

“Can’t you talk to your friends about it?” Ezra asked. “Surely, talking to them about your grief is better than you keeping it to yourself?”

Michael snorted and shook his head. “I try to keep my distance. I don’t want another incident occurring now that I’m bigger and can inflict more damage.”

“Wait, so you don’t have any friends?” Ezra asked, sounding almost alarmed. “Michael, that’s... that’s not healthy at all. You need someone to talk to.”

“And how do your friends take it when you tell them about your emotions? Does it actually help you? Or do you feel worse after having gone to them?” Michael challenged.

Ezra was quiet for a long moment. “...I’ve stopped telling them,” he confessed softly and Michael huffed bitterly.

“See? People don’t care. Once a few weeks have passed, it’s old news and everyone’s looking for the next piece of gossip. They pretend to care for a while and then, they give up the act.”

“That’s not true,” Ezra said in a small voice. 

Michael scoffed.

“I care.”

Michael frowned. “...Excuse me?”

“I care,” Ezra said firmly. “About the things you’ve told me. About you bottling everything up. I probably shouldn’t care, considering that you’re trying to arrest me, but I can’t help it.”

Michael stared at the receiver. “Why?” he settled on, completely dumbfounded.

“Don’t know,” Ezra mumbled. “Makes me upset to think you’re suffering alone, I guess. I know what it feels like to lose someone important and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

Michael licked his lips and tried to remember the last time anyone had admitted to caring about him. His grandparents possibly? Back when they were alive?

He held the phone tighter as his chest constricted. Had he always felt this lonely? What was he supposed to say now?

“It’s nice being able to talk to someone like this,” Ezra murmured, saving him the embarrassment of scrambling for a response. “It’s... nice to know I’m not the only one who feels this way.”

Michael did what he did best when he felt as though his emotions were gaining too much control; he clamped his mouth shut.

“I know this must be hard for you – talking so openly to a vampire, I mean. I understand now why you’re so against my kind. I’m the same way with Hunters, I guess.” Ezra was thinking aloud now, Michael could tell. He was happy to listen though, because he had nowhere else to be and his house would be empty once he got home.

“Would’ve been nice to meet up. Have a chat over a coffee or a walk in the park.” Ezra’s voice lowered. “I’m so tired of being alone all the time; of having no one to talk to. I’m always the joker, the funny ‘kid’, and I... I just need...” A weary sigh. “I want my mum and dad back.”

Michael’s heart ached. He might have enjoyed a meet-up, but sadly, Ezra was on the wrong side of the law and Michael couldn’t allow it.

However, he did have Ezra on the phone now, so he could make use of what he had. There was nothing stopping him from comforting the vampire and Michael was as good a listener as Kali.

“Tell me about them.”

“What?”

“It might help. You can tell me anything you like.”

Ezra was quiet for half a minute before he began to tell a story about his parents and a Christmas trip to France, where they had been locked inside their hotel room for an entire day because someone had decorated the door with a cross.

Michael settled into his seat with a smile.