The Order’s headquarters were set in a big modern building of red brick and glass, surrounded by tasteful landscaping and a well lit sign bearing the company name of Whetstone Pharmaceuticals.
At that time of night there were few lights on in the above ground offices, but Bishop knew the lower levels would be buzzing with activity. Stowing away the Ducati in the parking garage, he took the elevator straight down to B-3 where the underground labs were.
Luck was with him, as Jenessa was in her office, the top of her pale braid visible as she bent over an assortment of hard bound books on her desk.
“You know, they have these amazing new things, they’re called computers…” Bishop teased from the doorway, having a soft spot in his heart for the doctor. In a sisterly way, he had no romantic designs on the pretty blonde.
“You more than anyone should know the temptation of books.” She gave him a radiant smile, leaning back from her studies. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Bishop. What brings you down to my level?”
“I thought maybe you could help me with a case I’m working on.” He withdrew the monitor from his pocket and set it on the corner of her desk.
“Is your scanner broken? You know Trick can fix that for you a lot faster than I can.”
“No, it’s not broken. I was wondering what you can tell me about the bloodline. Can you trace the genetic markers and help me pinpoint her origins?” It was a long shot, but technology continually surprised him in that day and age.
Jenessa picked up the device, studying the readings dubiously. “From this? I’m good, but I’m not that good. Can you get me a bigger sample?”
That would mean seeing Anja again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to call any more attention to her from the organization than strictly necessary. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Why do you need to know? I find it hard to believe you’re not capable of putting your considerable charms to use in getting the answer you want straight from the source.” She meant his skill with intimidation, not his charm, and Bishop shook his head.
“It’s sort of a… delicate situation. There isn’t a formal investigation going.”
“Oh, I see,” she nodded, handing over the scanner. “With a vampire that old, I can see how you’d want to proceed with care. But I can be discreet if need be. I won’t need to see her, just a sample of her blood if you can obtain it,” Jenessa offered.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” he nodded, pocketing the device and turning away, but her voice called him back.
“Bishop, are you alright?” Her head canted to one side as she studied him.
Did it show? He had to pull it together before he had every member of the team asking him about his feelings for chrissakes. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he shrugged, retreating before he did something else to set off her radar - or worse, sit down and tell her the whole disturbing business. Bishop managed to resist the urge to share, deciding he would take the rest of the night off to shake the unpleasant emotions free of his system instead of going out to hunt.
One step back in his apartment and he knew that was a mistake.
Anja’s subtle presence could still be felt in the apartment from the short time she’d stayed there. From the used glass in the sink, to the golden strands of hair on the back of the couch, and the rumpled sheets on his bed; even the air felt different. Lifting a pillow to his nose, he realized he could still smell her unique scent imprinted on the fabric… there would be no sleeping in that bed until he had a chance to strip the bedding.
Focusing on the things he could control, Bishop went through the chores of reclaiming his apartment. Stripping the bed, he set the sheets to wash and vacuumed off the back of the couch and under the cushions for good measure. He washed the single dirty glass and replaced it in the cupboard. There was still plenty of night left, so he methodically cleaned his array of weapons, whether they needed it or not, until he was satisfied with the results. It was too bad he couldn’t call Mason over to spar for a while. That would have been a good way to get rid of his excess energy, but then he’d have to explain why Anja wasn’t there. Even her absence intruded into his thoughts.
Accepting that no matter how he tried to fill the hours, his mind kept returning him to a certain young blonde, Bishop resolved to chase her memory away with another. Retrieving a carved cherrywood box from the top of his closet, he set it on the table, staring at the closed lid. Without opening it, he rose and poured himself a glass of wine, a deep burgundy from Lyon. Swirling the wine in the goblet, Bishop glanced at the small chest, unsure if he wanted to awaken that particular ghost of the past.
He found himself sitting in front of the grand piano, frowning at the bottom of his glass. It was impossible to think of Carys and not think of the music. He could see the light marks of fingers on the glossy piano - did Anja play? He knew she attended a school for fine arts, but not much more than that. Bishop opened the fallboard, revealing the keys. Even after all this time he could hear the music, and his fingers itched to play the way he had played for her. Would they still remember all the notes? Fingers arched, they found their home at middle C, hovering there for long seconds before the overwhelming sense of loss suffused him, and he closed the door to those memories before they could claim him again.