Chapter 21

Weehawken, New Jersey, 1807

“Is this place always so damn foggy?” Jess whispered as he crouched down next to Christian in the shadows cast by the same row of trees they’d congregated beneath just a few years earlier. At the time, they’d all thought it insane to be out looking for trouble on a foggy morning. Now, they all thought it insane to be out looking for trouble on a foggy night. But when Aaron Burr had contacted each of them, requesting they return to the site where he’d killed Hamilton, they’d come. Even Moira, who looked at Christian with disgust as she stood several feet away next to Robert. He hadn’t bothered to speak to her, despite the fact that her breasts were even lovelier than he’d remembered. If only he could find a way to secretly photograph her. Then, he could stare at them without her ever knowing. That would be impossible with the current technology. It took so damn long to make a photo. He’d add ‘quicker photo taking’ to his list of devices he wanted to improve upon.

Burr had asked them all to assemble but hadn’t told them why. Crouching in the damp grass, waiting for him to reappear, Christian gazed up at the full moon. It seemed different somehow. Brighter, perhaps. It was a wonder he could even see it through the dense fog. There must be something particularly special happening for Burr to insist they all return to the place where he’d taken Hamilton’s life and ruined his own.

A few moments later, two younger men dressed in shabby clothing carried a coffin from Burr’s wagon and set it down on the ground in the same clearing where Hamilton had met his demise. Christian didn’t recognize the two laborers and imagined that they must be individuals paid by Burr. “Go back to the carriage, and do not pay any mind to what we are doing,” Burr insisted. The two of them did as they were told, at least so far as going back to the carriage, which was parked at a distance.

The moonlight reflected off of Burr’s bald head. He looked far different than the respected politician who had stood with them just a few years ago. Christian’s understanding was that the man had been abroad these past three years, searching for something. What it was exactly, he didn’t know, but he assumed it had to do with that question he’d asked the day Christian prepared to ride out. Had he ever heard of a portal?

Since his father had passed away, Christian had done some research, seeking out other Guardians, older, wiser Guardians. Was there any truth to the idea that a person might be brought back from beyond the grave? No one he spoke to held any hope of that being the case, but his search had led him to some books written hundreds of years ago. He’d read through them, familiarizing himself with the way their kind had lived for centuries, with the history of their species, with folk heroes from the past. It was all quite interesting to him, and for a while, he’d become so caught up in learning the stories of those who had come before him, he forgot he’d been looking for a way to bring back his father.

Now, with Burr standing near a coffin in a moonlit field, he had to wonder what in the world the Hunter had discovered.

Burr cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for assembling with me here this night. For nearly three years, I have been searching for a means to amend my unfortunate and unintentional ending of Alexander Hamilton’s life. My journey eventually led me to a small town some distance from London and to an ancient Guardian who estimated his age to be nearly 1800 years.” That information got some gasps. That would mean this person was alive in biblical times. Christian didn’t believe it. From his own research, the Ternion, that is, Hunters, Guardians, and Vampires, didn’t come to be until after Christ’s death and the unleashing of evil upon the world by Satan, but he would indulge Burr by letting him pass along the information as fact if it sped along his story.

“This person refused to give his name, but he told me there are worlds we have yet to understand, places and possibilities our near-human minds cannot yet comprehend. I begged him for an answer to my question. Was it possible for a Guardian to return from the dead as I had been told? After much discussion and manipulation, and seeing the fervor with which I went about my task, he finally admitted there was a way. It is called the Blue Moon Portal!”

Blue Moon--Christian looked up at the sky. Was this a blue moon? He hadn’t been paying careful attention to the almanac recently. He’d have to take Burr’s word for it.

“According to the sage, in order to open the portal, one must expose the remains of the deceased Guardian to the light of the blue moon. Then, the portal will open and one may communicate with the departed. If the deceased chooses to, he or she may rejoin the earthly sphere. He did warn that there are potential consequences to doing so, and he did not recommend it, but I felt it necessary to give the operation an opportunity.”

“What sort of consequences?” Moira asked, a thoughtful expression on her beautiful face.

Burr shrugged. “He said it may be possible the deceased could never return to the afterlife. He also said, when the portal opens here, it may open elsewhere as well, allowing others to pass through it. As I said, he was cryptic, not willing to divulge much information. He said he would never go forward with such an activity, that it was too risky, but as I’ve said to each of you before, not a day goes by that I am not haunted by what I have done to our dear friend, Alexander Hamilton. And so… it is my wish to attempt to open the Blue Moon portal and potentially bring him back.”

Christian bit back a laugh. It all sounded so ridiculous. Burr honestly thought that the moonlight would shine down on Hamilton’s decaying body and open some sort of a pathway so that he could just walk back into existence? Would he still be wounded? Would he be naked? Would he have to walk around in his decaying form? Perhaps this was one of the reasons some people believed in zombies, another ridiculous notion.

“Well, then, if you’re bound to do it, let’s have at it,” Jess suggested. “Some of us aren't getting any younger.”

His last remark got a chuckle from some. Christian wanted to remind him that, technically, none of them was getting any younger, but only a handful of them were not getting any older, so he let that go as well.

“Very well then,” Burr replied with a deep breath. He turned to the coffin, glancing up at the sky. “I only hope the fog doesn’t interfere.”

“Wouldn’t that be Hamilton’s luck?” Christian muttered. “Dies because of the fog. Can’t come back to life because of the fog.” He laughed, but no one else did. Perhaps it was a crass remark. He didn’t care. It was amusing to him, so he didn’t regret saying it.

It didn’t take long for Burr to get the lid off of the coffin. He pushed the rotting wood aside and then stepped away. The moon’s beams were cutting through the fog but not in such a way that the entire coffin lit up in a dazzle of light. They all stared, waiting.

A few minutes passed before the other woman, the one Christian could never name, asked, “What do we do now?”

“Wait, I suppose,” Stephen whispered back.

“How long?” she wanted to know.

Her response came from the coffin itself. Brilliant blue lights began to dance around the edges and then sprang up to fill the space above the coffin. They intensified as the light of the moon cut through the fog, dancing and moving, forming a circle, and then… there he was!