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Authors: Christopher Golden
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origins, so that she
could hunt without feeling for her prey.
She would not allow it. Peter Octavian had overcome that same encroaching numbness, and he was her blood-father after all.
Now, as Alexandra made preparations for their departure and eventual rendezvous with Hannibal at the Austrian border, Meaghan stepped out of the “T” station at Government Center and
began to walk toward Fanueil Hall. Though she could have flown and simply landed in the middle of Quincy Market, it had become etiquette for her kind not to do so. Such a display instilled fear and
awe, and attracted a lot of unwanted attention. Though melodramatic by nature, she had determined that her people must refrain from such showboating, even if to do so made life more difficult.
The city block between Government Center and Boston Harbor was called Quincy Market, a group of buildings filled with shopping and food and, outdoors, merchants’ carts filled with
everything from Harvard University T-shirts to fresh-squeezed lemonade. Visitors and locals alike tended to refer to the marketplace as Fanueil Hall, the name of a colonial era meeting house at the
front of Quincy Market. George Marcopoulos had never confused the two. Though they were going to have lunch inside Quincy Market, he met Meaghan where he always did, outside Faneuil Hall.
Meaghan loved George Marcopoulos like a father—her own had died when she was quite young—and he returned the affection.
“Hello, darling,” he said, and bent slightly to kiss her cheek as she hugged him. George was an old man, or so he constantly told himself, and he knew that people began to shrink
with age. But Meaghan had once been significantly shorter than him. He had not shrunk that much, he knew. She had grown. It was just one more in an endless series of fascinating discoveries he and
the world were making about the shadows.
But as usual, he kept it to himself. Let the rest of them find out on their own, and not badger his loved ones.
“Mr. Ambassador,” Meaghan answered, with a smile that reached her eyes. “How are you today?”
“Worried,” he answered, his own smile disappearing. “But let’s discuss it over lunch.”
George offered Meaghan his arm and she took it. They walked, linked in that manner, across the cobblestones of Quincy Market, examining the wares of the merchant carts. The noonday sun beat down
on them, though the ocean breeze made it bearable, and Meaghan squinted against the glare. They passed a vendor selling flowers, and their myriad scents joined into one, overpowering bouquet.
Powerful smells also wafted out of other establishments, including the hypnotically sweet, commanding smell of chocolate chip cookies from the Boston Chipyard. Finally they reached Cityside, a
café which boasted the “best burger in Boston.” Although red meat was definitely not in his diet, and Valerie would scream if she knew, George was dying for a cheeseburger . . .
and damn the fat content!
“How’s Alexandra?” he asked as they waited to be seated.
“Like the rest of us, scared. But the funny thing is that she’s mainly scared for Will. It wasn’t so many years ago that she wanted Will Cody dead, but now she’s even
more worried about him than I am. I never figured her for the mother hen type, but there it is.”
“And how are things between you?” he asked, sincerely.
“Wonderful,” Meaghan answered, and meant it. She was glad George was so comfortable when it came to her relationship with Alex. Most people his age wouldn’t have been.
But then, the whole world had changed, and George had been through the changes firsthand. He had been forced to accept a lot of things in light of which her relationship with Alex appeared as
normal as she and Alex knew it to be. Life went on, love went on, and George had a kind heart. They would miss him when he died. Meaghan, Alex and Cody had all offered him the gift of life, the
Revenant Transformation, more than once,
could hunt without feeling for her prey.
She would not allow it. Peter Octavian had overcome that same encroaching numbness, and he was her blood-father after all.
Now, as Alexandra made preparations for their departure and eventual rendezvous with Hannibal at the Austrian border, Meaghan stepped out of the “T” station at Government Center and
began to walk toward Fanueil Hall. Though she could have flown and simply landed in the middle of Quincy Market, it had become etiquette for her kind not to do so. Such a display instilled fear and
awe, and attracted a lot of unwanted attention. Though melodramatic by nature, she had determined that her people must refrain from such showboating, even if to do so made life more difficult.
The city block between Government Center and Boston Harbor was called Quincy Market, a group of buildings filled with shopping and food and, outdoors, merchants’ carts filled with
everything from Harvard University T-shirts to fresh-squeezed lemonade. Visitors and locals alike tended to refer to the marketplace as Fanueil Hall, the name of a colonial era meeting house at the
front of Quincy Market. George Marcopoulos had never confused the two. Though they were going to have lunch inside Quincy Market, he met Meaghan where he always did, outside Faneuil Hall.
Meaghan loved George Marcopoulos like a father—her own had died when she was quite young—and he returned the affection.
“Hello, darling,” he said, and bent slightly to kiss her cheek as she hugged him. George was an old man, or so he constantly told himself, and he knew that people began to shrink
with age. But Meaghan had once been significantly shorter than him. He had not shrunk that much, he knew. She had grown. It was just one more in an endless series of fascinating discoveries he and
the world were making about the shadows.
But as usual, he kept it to himself. Let the rest of them find out on their own, and not badger his loved ones.
“Mr. Ambassador,” Meaghan answered, with a smile that reached her eyes. “How are you today?”
“Worried,” he answered, his own smile disappearing. “But let’s discuss it over lunch.”
George offered Meaghan his arm and she took it. They walked, linked in that manner, across the cobblestones of Quincy Market, examining the wares of the merchant carts. The noonday sun beat down
on them, though the ocean breeze made it bearable, and Meaghan squinted against the glare. They passed a vendor selling flowers, and their myriad scents joined into one, overpowering bouquet.
Powerful smells also wafted out of other establishments, including the hypnotically sweet, commanding smell of chocolate chip cookies from the Boston Chipyard. Finally they reached Cityside, a
café which boasted the “best burger in Boston.” Although red meat was definitely not in his diet, and Valerie would scream if she knew, George was dying for a cheeseburger . . .
and damn the fat content!
“How’s Alexandra?” he asked as they waited to be seated.
“Like the rest of us, scared. But the funny thing is that she’s mainly scared for Will. It wasn’t so many years ago that she wanted Will Cody dead, but now she’s even
more worried about him than I am. I never figured her for the mother hen type, but there it is.”
“And how are things between you?” he asked, sincerely.
“Wonderful,” Meaghan answered, and meant it. She was glad George was so comfortable when it came to her relationship with Alex. Most people his age wouldn’t have been.
But then, the whole world had changed, and George had been through the changes firsthand. He had been forced to accept a lot of things in light of which her relationship with Alex appeared as
normal as she and Alex knew it to be. Life went on, love went on, and George had a kind heart. They would miss him when he died. Meaghan, Alex and Cody had all offered him the gift of life, the
Revenant Transformation, more than once,
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