Meet Me by Dawn (By Dawn series book 1) ✓

Chapter 5

Edited

"What's up, Poison Ivy?" The nickname had stuck with me since they discovered my knack for concocting poisons and my skill in using them – a talent that had saved our missions countless times.

"Just setting up some surveillance around the house," I replied to Andrew. We weren't big on phone calls, he and I, but it seemed he and Jenny were eager to reach out, probably because I was here alone now.

"Well, is it working?"

"We shall wait and see," I muttered, struggling to balance on the ladder while holding a camera and its cable was in my mouth. "I have hardly walked through the doors of this house before you and Jenny are calling me before noon." Jenny woke me up this morning, stressing about living with Andrew. I understood that they didn't want to confess their undying love for each other, but at the same time, we cared for each other either way and would jump in front of a bullet for one another if needed. I contemplated telling Andrew that when I heard another throat clearing in the background. He wasn't alone. "Where are you anyways?" I asked.

"In the tech room," he replied, dryly. Andrew was the biggest computer and code nerd in the history of time, and I think Steve Jobs would be very impressed, may he rest in peace.

"Uh huh," I replied, my voice muffled as I carefully adjusted the camera with the cable almost falling out from between my teeth. I took the cable and sneared it into the hole, then made sure the camera wasn't visible. Suddenly, Andrew piped up.

"Oh, look at that."

"What?" I grumbled, the camera was visible, forcing me to redo it.

"Someone got caught, tortured, then dumped in a trash container. Em, if I ever end up in a dumpster dead, just let me be there. Embarrassing," he said, sounding a bit too entertained.

"I swear the devil pooped you out," I said.

"You know, comparing me to one of the heroes of your favorite book isn't an insult," Andrew retorted.

"The devil didn't exactly 'poop out' Dante; he and Virgil went up his ass," I replied, not sure if that was any better.

"And you say it's not a comedy," Andrew laughed. "Alright, talk later." We hung up, and I finally had some peace and quiet.

I'd spent the morning ordering furniture and other necessities online, given the limited options in town. A store in Galway had caught my eye, and everything would arrive in a few days. And the days passed quickly as deliveries flooded in – furniture, rugs, kitchen supplies, curtains, pillows. I ventured into town multiple times, always forgetting something. Decorating a house was a new experience for me, having never owned more than an apartment.

Upstairs a large four-poster bed awaited me every night, and a cozy brown velvet chesterfield sofa group adorned the living room, complete with a comfortable reading chair and lamp. Curtains now hung at the windows, and my bookshelves were filled. I'd created a study nook in the living room, in place of where a dining table would go. Finally, it felt like home, but my wardrobe was still on backorder. Now, I could focus on what I truly wanted – organize my kitchen and paint it green.

Taking a break from my organizing, I revisited the file I'd received back in London. Boredom had set in, and I had "A Foreigner's God" by Hozier blaring from a small speaker which was a result of my shopping spree. A particular individual had been on my mind since we'd met, and there he was – a picture of Atticus Emerson, labeled as a person of interest because he arrived Dark Falls exactly two years ago, but mostly because he was involved in the community, but how; it didn't say. The file also contained information on several other people, including Dana Mikaelson. Toward the end, I found a familiar name – Henry Salvatore. Jenny had thought he was hot, and I couldn't disagree. According to the file, he was a literature professor at the University, though it didn't specify if he would be my professor. Henry's photo showed a man with black hair and lifeless grey eyes, dressed in a black suit. I wondered what made him so gloomy, perhaps the weight of his thirty-one years.

Curiosity piqued, I decided to research the vanishings and the deaths. The Dark Falls Post brought up a long list of cases – animal attacks, unexplainable deaths, and disappearances. Many suspects had been questioned, but no one had ever been caught. It seemed like a trip to the police office was in order, albeit not during visiting hours.

After an hour on the phone with a moron at the tech department (Andrew was away for the day), I hung up, frustrated because he kept explaining the same thing over again instead of answering my actual questions. Silencing the alarm at the police station couldn't be that difficult, could it? I had already obtained the floor plans, a challenging task in itself. Closing the laptop, I decided to attempt hacking my way into their system, but first, I needed a run.

The cool night air filled my lungs as I dashed through the gravel-covered woodland. My hair was gathered in a bun, I wore black tights and a hoodie, and a Glock was holstered around my waist underneath my clothes. I rarely went anywhere without one; it was essential to be prepared for anything, especially after completing a mission. While we seldom reached the upper leaders, there was always another higher-up. But my organization didn't waste time chasing them. We preferred sabotaging their operations, hoping they'd give up and die alone in shame. Wishful thinking. It was not directly illegal what we did. The Madame, our leader, had connections with the government, which paid for our services, and they didn't ask questions. They didn't know that some of us had barely turned eighteen when we began missions, having started training even earlier. A week after my arrival at the Institution, I began training at the age of eight. They didn't care, as long as the public remained unaware. We eliminated our targets, either by putting a bullet in their head or poisoning their food when apprehending them was impossible. The next day, the headlines read, "Drug lord killed by their own."

I paused on a hill, gazing at the warm lights illuminating the sleeping town. The church's tower punctured the night sky like a needle. The air was chilly, but not quite autumn. I wondered about the beauty of Ireland in fall. I found a small trail leading to the town's center, where the river meandered, dividing the town in two. Old stone bridges dotted the town, making it easy to cross anywhere. At this hour, there weren't many people around.

I ran until I reached the police station, where all the windows were dark, except for one. That had to be the night guard. I knew I had to surpass him, but not tonight. I took out my work phone, strapped to my arm, and opened the program we used for infiltration into low-security surveillance and alarms, a tool Andrew had helped create. It scanned, picked up the network, unlocked it, found an open port, and began listing codes. Now, I just needed help from Andrew, not the incompetent person I had spoken with earlier. Someone came up behind me.

"Emilia Dandelion." I recognized his voice immediately.

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