Andrelle and Red sat at an otherwise empty table, enjoying the fine food of the five star restaurant. Andrelle sliced into her steak, the juices from the meat shot out onto her hand as she did so. She slowly raised her hand to her mouth, and looked at Red, who was staring at her with a face of half disgust. She slowly sucked the juices from her hand, seductively looking into Red’s eyes.

He put down his silverware and scooted his chair back, “I think I lost my appetite.”

Andrelle chuckled to herself, “What? You don’t like steak?”

Red shook his head, “No, it’s not that.” Red rubbed his neck, “How can you suck the blood out of people and not be disgusted?”

Andrelle raised her head and looked Red directly in the eyes, “After a while, you enjoy it.” She licked her lips. She enjoyed tormenting the psychic; as it seemed to be his fate with all women.

Red scooted back and put his hand over his mouth. “I need to go to the bathroom.” He stood and walked off to the stairway that they climbed earlier. As he was about to descend he took one last look at Andrelle.

She smiled and called over to him, “You would so enjoy being one of us!” She turned back to her steak and laughed. The man was easily frightened, but she thought he was kind of cute.

Red swallowed hard and took off towards the bathroom. He descended to the main floor and asked a waiter where the restroom was. The only restroom was located out of the dining room and in the lobby. So Red trekked back to the lobby once more.

Ra’ul was still behind the desk seating the customers. Red looked off to the far side of the lobby and saw the restroom sign. He pushed his way past a group of three men in trench coats. “Sorry sir,” he looked up to the one nearest him.

The man smiled, revealing two long fangs at the sides of his mouth. “Don’t worry about it.” The man turned back to his comrades and joined in their conversation.

Red stood thinking for a second, and then he scurried to the restroom. The man looked familiar, almost like the vampire at the warehouse. He had not stayed to see if all the vamps were killed. Joseph and Andrelle didn’t confirm that all the vampires were taken care of either. They tried to get out of the warehouse rather quickly. Red walked up to the sink and rinsed his hands, looking up in the mirror with sudden realization.

The man in the lobby was the vampire from the warehouse.

Agent Flaurence sat in a large chair overlooking the surveillance room. He was looking out onto a large wall of monitors. The room was located right off of the restaurant on the main floor. Several other men in various suits and street clothes sat around monitoring the screens as well, stopping occasionally to make notes about suspicious people. It looked more like an evil villain’s lair of henchmen, than a room of security guards.

Mr. Tentin sat beside Agent Flaurence answering the questions that Joseph brought forward. The restaurant was quite large and held many security cameras, most of which seemed to be placed on the outside of the building. Joseph could see the fountains and road out in front of the restaurant. Several alleys and a parking garage were visible on some of the cameras. Then a few more were in the lobby and dining room. One more caught Joe’s eye. It was an office with several glass displays full of ancient artifacts.

Mr. Tentin spoke up and pointed to a monitor that showed several couples eating “See that man there,” He pointed to a gentleman in a plaid coat.

“Yes. What about him?” Agent Flaurence was puzzled about why this man was pointed out.

“He is a sleeper agent. We have several in the restaurant dining right now.”

Agent Flaurence leaned back in his chair. “So this place really is safe, huh?” Safe. A word Joseph hardly used in conversation.

Mr. Tentin grinned at the comment, “For the most part. Mr. Bartlett keeps a tight watch on things, in case anything unnatural comes in.”

Agent Flaurence was puzzled at the comment, “So you know all about the things that go bump in the night?” Hardly anyone knew that their nightmares were actually true, and they lurked around every corner.

Mr. Tentin smiled, he was quite happy that Agent Flaurence underestimated the restaurant’s security so much, “Yes, we all do here.” He leaned back in his chair. “Everyone is trained to spot and kill anything unnatural that enters here.” Mr. Tentin chuckled to himself, “Only humans allowed.”

A monitor then showed to the table Joseph had been dining at. Andrelle sat there with Red. They seemed to be enjoying themselves.

“Except for your friend there,” Mr. Tentin pointed at Andrelle, “She’s been allowed in by Mr. Bartlett.”

Agent Flaurence nodded. “How many men are stationed here at the restaurant?”

Mr. Tentin pulled up a clipboard with a chart held on it, “Well,” he looked it over for a quick second before speaking again. “It looks like there are fifty-four here tonight.” He flipped over the page and scanned it with his finger, “There are thirty-four on duty and twenty off duty, probably on the guard’s floor sleeping or relaxing.”

Agent Flaurence rubbed his head, realizing that this was probably the safest place on the Earth, if they could trust Mr. Bartlett. “You have a small army here, is what you’re saying?”

Mr. Tentin put his clipboard down and stood. “Yeah just about. Mr. Bartlett likes it that way. He keeps us updated with the latest equipment, and we keep his assets secure.” He walked over to the nearest guard and chatted with him for a second.

Joseph looked up at the monitor. Andrelle was talking to Red, who then stood and started walking away toward the stairs. She must have said something to disgust him, with the look on his face. He didn’t seem pleased.

Mr. Tentin came back to his seat next to Joseph, “This place isn’t just a restaurant either. The basement holds some very powerful, dangerous stuff.”

Joseph leaned forward at the comment. “Like what?”

Mr. Tentin smiled, “That is quite a secret. Not even I know that.” Mr. Tentin then looked back to the monitors, “Mr. B keeps the stuff off the streets, and several organizations pay him handsomely.”

“Tentin! I have something in the lobby.” The guard turned a large portion of the monitors to the lobby cameras. Joseph saw Red entering the lobby.

Mr. Tentin stared at the monitors for a moment, and then spoke. “What am I looking at, Folesom?”

Joseph could see Red walking towards a group of three men.

The guard spoke up again, “These three men here.” Joseph watched as Red bumped into one on accident.

Mr. Tentin watched the screen intently, “What about them? They look like dinner guests.”

Folesom spoke up again, “That’s what I thought, until they arrived in a white van. The windows were blacked out.” Folesom them flipped a switch that turned the screen blue. The guest all showed up as red blobs, giving off heat signatures the camera was picking up. “Then I thermal scanned them.”

The three men didn’t show up on the monitors. They blended in seamlessly with the blue screen. “You see what I see, Sir?”

Mr. Tentin whispered to himself, “Vampires. I hate vampires.” Mr. Tentin stood and walked over to Folesom, “Keep an eye on them. If anything out of the ordinary happens, evacuate the guests and neutralize the vamps.”

Folesome nodded and pulled up a headset. He started speaking into the microphone.

Joseph stood. He was puzzled at what was happening, “I thought only humans were allowed in here?”

Mr. Tentin joined Joseph’s side again. “Yes that’s true. Folesom is putting out an alert.”

Folesome soon spoke up, “Orders from Mr. B. He said to let them in.” Mr. Tentin nodded in acknowledgement.

Joseph watched the screen as it turned back to normal. Red turned to a vampire with long flowing hair, and a fresh scar across his face, and said something. The vamp smiled and said something back, which made Red hurry to what looked like the bathroom.

Joseph realized it was the vampire that got away from Andrelle and him at the warehouse. He forgot to tell his partners at the docks what had happened and now they were followed here. He swallowed hard, “What’s next?”

Mr. Tentin grinned, “The good part.” He sat back down. “We wait for their move.”

Sam sat in the uncomfortable silence of the elevator. Mr. Bartlett was standing beside her slightly smiling and occasionally glancing at her, but he had not said a word since they got on the elevator. She looked down at her bag, thinking of the odd talisman he had given her all those years ago, when she thought the world was safe. Three unlikely heroes had saved her life four years ago, and then in a year, they were gone, with the exception of Eddie, of course.

She still kept in touch with Eddie at the Institute, but she had no clue what happened to the charmer, Brockly. He just took off after a dispute with Breaburn, and she never saw him since.

After Mr. Bartlett had found her a job at the Institute, he then shortly disappeared without a trace, disappearing from her life completely without an explanation. Apparently he was building a restaurant all this time.

She had always regretted the nights she spent with Mr. Bartlett in the past. She wanted to save herself for when she got married, but when she was around him, she couldn’t help herself but want to be with him. He had taken her around the world, teaching her to fight, teaching her how to kill. She had spent nights with him tucked away in a warm bed on sandy beaches and frozen mountain tops. Sam had regretted everything when he left, but when she was near him now, she didn’t regret a thing. She had so many questions to ask him, but she couldn’t think of where to start. Mr. Bartlett was so mysterious she hardly knew anything about him, and yet, she couldn’t stop thinking of him all these years.

She glanced up at the small glass panel in the corner of the elevator. They had just passed the third floor and were moving to the fourth. The elevator soon stopped and the doors opened up.

In front of Sam was a large glass window that encompassed two walls of the room.

Mr. Bartlett stepped off the elevator loosening his tie. He looked back at Sam who was still looking out the great window, “Close your mouth, you’re drooling.”

Sam snapped out of her reverie and looked at Mr. Bartlett. She wiped her mouth looking down at her dry sleeve.

Mr. Bartlett smiled and turned to his desk in the only corner of the room not encompassed in glass. “I was joking you know.”

Sam turned, looking around as she did so. She stepped up to the glass window, looking down upon the patrons of the restaurant far below. She turned and looked at Mr. Bartlett who was pouring himself a drink on his large desk.

He walked around the desk, leaning his cane on the side of it. He entered a small closet behind his desk, flipping on the light inside the room.

He pulled off his tie and coat, placing them neatly on a small shelf. He reached up to a rack full of similar coats and ties, and pulled off a new pair, and put them on. Mr. Bartlett shut the light to the small room off and took a seat.

He pointed to the glass he just poured, “Would you like some? It’s twenty year old scotch, good stuff, but expensive.”

Sam looked at the glass and took a sip. Whether it was the spirits or she just couldn’t hold it in any longer, she asked the question that burned in her mind all these years. “Is this what you’ve been up to while you’ve been gone?” She looked around the room. Small antiques of tribal masks and crafted jewels sat all around on pedestals, covered in glass. She shied away, feeling embarrassed at her bluntness she changed the subject. “Quite impressive I have to say?” She took another sip and set the glass down.

Mr. Bartlett leaned back in his chair, admiring Sam, “Yes, it’s quite impressive,” a slight smile came upon his face, “But not as impressive as you.”

Sam blushed a little and turned away to a small section of the wall not made of glass. A few photographs hung in a neat fashion. Sam walked over to them and looked the pictures over. They were yellowed and faded; most of them seemed to be taken in a jungle. She stopped at one of Mr. Bartlett holding a little girl in his arms. Several men with grass skirts and bone jewelry surrounded him, smiling at the camera. Their faces were painted and exotic feathers of blue, yellow, purple, decorated their heads.

Sam’s eyes furrowed, “Is this you?”

Mr. Bartlett nodded, “Yes, that is an old photo of me.”

A feeling in Sam’s gut told her not to ask the next question, but she did anyway, “Is this your daughter?”

Mr. Bartlett looked away for a second, sitting in silence. Sam felt uncomfortable for asking a personal question to the man.

After a moment, he spoke, “That was my daughter. She is not with us today.”

Sam turned away, “I’m sorry.”

Mr. Bartlett quickly cut her off, “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Don’t be sorry.”

Sam felt sorry for the man. Losing a child should be something no one should have to deal with. This was the first time he had opened up to her since she had known him, and she wished it would have been a happier affair than this.

“May I ask what happened?” She took the photo down and examined it closely, “This picture seems too old to be of you though.”

Mr. Bartlett let out a small cough and took a sip of the drink Sam had set down, “There are many things you don’t know about me, Sam, things that should probably stay hidden from the world.”

Mr. Bartlett stood and walked over to Sam, “This picture was taken in nineteen twenty-two.” He took the picture from Sam and hung it back on the wall. He stared for a moment, wiping his one good eye. “The institute was young back then, only a few members here or there.” He walked back over to his desk, finishing off the drink, “I was one of them. I was young back then.”

Sam frowned in confusion, “You were alive back then?”

Mr. Bartlett nodded and poured some more scotch into his glass, “Quite so. You know a man one hundred and nineteen years old.”

Sam slowly nodded. She wasn’t sure if he was lying, but then again, she had seen stranger things in her life.

“I was sent down to Haiti by the Institute, to investigate a case that had come up. Some shamans had brought over some old magic from Africa, when they were transported as slaves. They passed down the magic through the generations of Haitian people.”

Mr. Bartlett took a seat at his desk again, gesturing Sam to take a seat in the chair in front of the desk. She walked over slowly, clutching her bag tight, not knowing where the story would go. She took a seat, placing the bag in her lap as she did so.

“They passed down the old magic to their children and so on. Down to the very shamans I was supposed to investigate. I brought my daughter along with me because her mother had died shortly before. I couldn’t bear to leave her alone.”

Mr. Bartlett looked over at his cane, “At this time, America had occupied Haiti and they were not kind to the Haitian people. The Haitians were suppressed and not given liberty of their own island. Christianity was also sweeping the nation, calling their old voodoo religion satanic. So, to free their people from any more overlords, the last of the shaman’s bloodline had used a powerful spell to summon an old powerful spirit, to free the Haitians from any more foreign invaders.”

Mr. Bartlett then looked at Sam, “The spirit went on a bloodthirsty rampage. It murdered hundreds of innocent Americans, but that was nothing compared to the damage the spirit had dealt to the natives. Thousands of Haitians were murdered as well. Women, children, the spirit didn’t care what it killed. Even the shamans that summoned it were killed on the spot. The spirit killed many people, including my daughter.” Mr. Bartlett paused for a moment and turned away. He composed himself and turned back to Sam. “I was out of town researching the origins of the ancient spirit when it came to the town I was staying in. My daughter was being watched by my neighbors and their kids when it swept into town, slaughtering everyone. I was torn apart when I found out it took her. She was my world, my everything, and she was taken away in an instant. I became bent on revenge, so much that it clouded my judgment. I rushed out into the jungle after it and it trapped me. I thought it was going to kill me like all the rest.”

Mr. Bartlett stood up and walked over to a small glass case holding a painted voodoo mask from the ancient civilization, “The spirit surprised me with an offer. It said I could either let it possess me, or I could die right there. My head was clouded by the death of my daughter. I couldn’t die and let her death go un-avenged, so I let the spirit possess me, in hopes that I could then take my own life, ending the evil once and for all.”

Mr. Bartlett stared off into the air, “Some say the Institute’s Boss picks the perfect person for the job. I wonder if he knew this would happen to me.”

Sam too thought of the mysterious Boss. He had total control of the institute, yet no one had ever seen him. On some of her past missions, she had been just lucky enough to escape certain death. Maybe it wasn’t luck after all. Maybe the Boss knew she had the certain skills to make it out alive, and that’s why he sent her on those missions.

Mr. Bartlett snapped from his thoughts and turned back to Sam, continuing his story.

Mr. Bartlett reached up and adjusted his eye patch, “But it was soon a part of me. The spirit didn’t tell me what would happen, and before I knew it, it ripped my eye from its socket. The spirit flowed into my body through the empty eye socket, and it resides here even today.” He turned back to Sam, “That talisman on your axe was one of its artifacts. It allows the wearer to kill anything.”

Sam had always wondered why Mr. Bartlett was so secretive. She had never expected anything this big. Then she thought of the talisman he had given her, “It can kill anything?”

Mr. Bartlett answered her thoughts, “Don’t worry, I already tried. It doesn’t work on me.”

Sam looked back at the picture on the wall; his daughter must have been about eight years old. She stood and walked over to him, “I’m sorry for your loss. I really am.”

Mr. Bartlett smiled, “Thank you, and don’t worry, the spirit is under my control as long as I give it earthly pleasures, hence the restaurant. It’s quite greedy.”

Sam smiled at Mr. Bartlett. He always knew when to lighten the mood. She looked up into his green eye. She leaned forward, moving her face close to his. She was about to kiss the man she had lost so long ago. Then the phone on the desk rang.

Sam leaned back and rubbed her arm, her face blushing. “You better get that.”

Mr. Bartlett nodded and smiled as he picked up his phone.

Sam looked around at all the little Mayan statues and voodoo artifacts that sat around in Mr. Bartlett’s office.

Mr. Bartlett talked in the background with a series of short answers, “Yes, thank you Scott, and bring her up.”

Sam turned to Mr. Bartlett. “Is that Starr? Is she alright?”

Mr. Bartlett hung up the phone. “Yes, she is fine. Scott has given her some new clothes and something to eat in the kitchen, made special by our head chef.”

Sam nodded and sighed. She hadn’t seen Starr for a good amount of time. The mysterious girl had saved her life with some sort of flash down at the docks. No one had dared talk about it before, not knowing what would happen to Starr. The group of agents agreed not to share this detail until they knew they could trust the contact at the restaurant.

Now that Sam was alone with Mr. Bartlett she might be able to find out some information he hadn’t related before, “Is there something you aren’t telling me about Starr?”

Mr. Bartlett paused for a second; he looked around the room and checked his watch. Sam was puzzled why he did so.

“Yes,” he bluntly answered her question.

“What is it then?”

Mr. Bartlett went behind his desk and pulled out a small file. He waved Sam over as he set it down, “So far, this is all I know about the mission you and the others are on.” He opened the file, revealing several small photos and a few papers.

Sam picked up the photos and examined them carefully. A small object was photographed moving through the sky towards the ground. Another picture showed a crash site, and the last revealed several metallic pieces broken off form the main object. “What is this?” Sam picked up the papers and started looking through them for some answers.

“This thing, whatever it is, was seen flying over a field, far from here. It came crashing down in a blaze of glory, so to speak. There was a flare up of Institute communications, they seemed to respond the quickest, and they mobilized, and grabbed whatever this object was, and hid it away. All talk about it died out about three months ago.”

Mr. Bartlett flipped some pages of the paper in Sam’s hands, “About a week or so after the object crashed, all of the underworld creature organizations, the vampire clans, werewolf packs, the mutant under cities, the west cults, even some of the east cults, started looking for whatever it was, but with no luck. The Institute hides things well.”

Mr. Bartlett flipped a few more pages. “Here, about a day before you picked Starr up, information leaked from the Institute, and all this info about the flying object was up for grabs by anyone equipped enough to decipher the information. That’s probably why you ran into the vampires and the mutants at the warehouse.” Mr. Bartlett then stepped back, “Then you guys brought in Starr, and I had to wonder if she was the falling object, or at least part of it.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, “So they all want Starr? What for?”

Mr. Bartlett shrugged and took his seat, “I’m not sure why, or if they even want her. I held this information back in case any of your friends are not as loyal as you think.”

Sam quickly looked to Mr. Bartlett, “You think so?”

“A day before your mission, word leaked out from the Institute, probably from one of its members. It had to be from someone on the inside.”

Sam started thinking about what Mr. Bartlett said. She didn’t think of any of her teammates were disloyal, but it was a possibility.

“Keep what you’ve heard secret. If one of your team is a spy, then you will alert them to your knowledge. Who knows what they will do.”

Sam nodded as a ding from the elevator sounded off.

Starr jumped out of the elevator and landed on both feet inside the room. “Sam!” She saw Sam first and ran up to her jumping and latching onto her.

Sam noticed the girl wore a new pair of jeans with a yellow shirt and black shoes. She was still wearing Sam’s coat, “How are you, Starr?”

Starr looked up at Sam, “Great!” She shouted as Scott walked over to Mr. Bartlett and started whispering into his ear.

Sam stared at the two men and wondered what they were saying. She looked back down at Starr and forgot about them for a moment. “What did you do?”

Starr’s eyes lit up, “Mr. Scott is very nice. He got me these new clothes and took me into the kitchen. There were people running all over everywhere, cooking food and fire jumping up in the air out of their pans. I met Dan, the head chef and he made me some gourmet mac ‘n’ cheese. It was amazing.” Starr was grinning the entire time.

This was the most she had ever talked to Sam. She had even learned to speak English as well as an adult. Sam knew if those pictures Mr. Bartlett had shown her were real, then this girl was something more than human. Even so, Sam realized she was childish at heart, but the act at the docks showed Sam that Starr was quite capable of taking care of herself, “Sounds fun, Starr.”

Mr. Bartlett and Scott moved to the large window overlooking the restaurant. She overheard Mr. Bartlett talking to Scott, “Get the remaining guests out, refund them their money to make them happy. We don’t need any casualties if things get rough, and notify the guards to let our special guests in.”

Sam was curious of what casualties he was talking about, “What’s this about casualties? What’s going on?” She held Starr a little closer.

Mr. Bartlett smiled deviously, “You are about to find out, love.”