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to look at Ian, ask the question on his tongue, but he was afraid to open his mouth.  
    They sat in silence for several minutes.
    The car began to roll backwards.   When they reached the main road, Ian turned them in the right direction.   They were headed for home.   The car’s dark interior was suffocating.   Jack rolled the window down and leaned his head out.   The warm air blew his hair out of his eyes.   He gulped it in and took strength from it.
    Ian’s deep voice rumbled above the sound of the engine.   “When we first met, I had trouble looking at you without hating every fiber of your being.   Do you know why that is?”
    Jack reluctantly pulled his head back inside the car.   “I have no idea.”
    “You remind me of my father.”   Ian sneered.   “I loathed everything about the man from the second I was born.   If I had the power, I would kill him without hesitation.”
    Jack’s eyes widened.   He couldn’t remember hearing anyone talk about killing a person with such vehemence, especially not their own father.   And what did Ian mean about not having enough power?   How much worse could his father be?
    “My father is a right nasty piece of work, Jack.”   Ian answered the silent question.   Could he read minds, too?   Jack hoped not.   Ian continued, “He is the most powerful warlock in this world.   If I told you his name, you would know exactly who I was speaking of.   He’s that infamous.   However, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to say it.   Silly superstition I know, but there are people who think my father can zoom in on anyone who speaks his name, and maybe they’re right.”
    A name came to Jack’s mind, someone he’d heard of, a horrible man with terrible powers.   Stunned, he said, “I thought he was a myth.”
    Ian laughed, the low rumble burdened with rage.   “Everything you heard is true.   He is without compassion, without mercy, without a single positive trait of any kind.   Although I’ve tried not to become him, tried hard not to develop my powers, I still have them.   I’ve refused to study magic.   I have never used a spell in my life.   All the same, I can kill werewolves with a touch.   It’s a gift and a curse.”
    “Why did you bring a bag of weapons when you were just going to burn the werewolves with your hand?”
    “Those weapons weren’t for me,” Ian said.   “They were for you.   I’m a cautious man.   If they got past me, you would have needed those weapons.”
    Was he planning on using the power on Billy?
    “I won’t let you kill my brother.”
    “You do have a one track mind, don’t you?”
    Ian dragged his gaze from the dark road to look at Jack for a second.   There seemed to be a silent apology in his eyes.   “There’s nothing you can do to stop me from putting him down.   You have to understand your brother is gone.   Billy Creed no longer exists.   He’s a monster now, like the werewolf who stabbed you, like my father.”
    “No!”   Jack remembered the first conversation he’d had with Billy after his own return to mortality.   They’d discussed his life with fangs over a ton of food.   He remembered the way Billy had looked at him.   “That’s the same thing people thought about me when I was a vampire, but I was still me on the inside.   Hunters wanted to kill me, hunters like Billy and like you.   I wasn’t a bad guy though.   I didn’t kill anyone.   When I needed blood, I used animals or stole from blood banks or took on willing donors.”
    “I am more happy than I can say that you returned to a human state, but you were a monster when you were a vampire, and if I’d come across you back then, I would have killed you on the spot.”
    It was finally out in the open.   Ian Carver wanted every creature of the night to die.   It didn’t matter to him if they were related or if they were pure of heart.   Couldn’t he see things weren’t always black and white?
    “There are