*** July 1 2006 around 10am -- Oceanside Ramada Inn
The well-dressed man retrieved his credit card from the desk clerk. She smiled at him but there was no emotion in it, only good customer service. "That's one meeting room for the day. No lunch. Will there be anything else today, Mr. Freeman?"
Gordon Freeman smiled back politely, "No thank you, Miss. I'll let you know if we need anything else."
He picked up his briefcase and walked calmly into the conference room. The wooden conference table was well lit from the ocean side windows. Light flooded every corner. Four chairs sat empty around the table. Mr. Freeman set his briefcase on the table and seated himself calmly in the nearby seat.
Slowly his face relaxed and his breathing slowed to maintenance levels. He blinked regularly but a slow trickle of drool ran from one corner of his mouth.
*** July 1, 2006 -- 12 midnight Sharp. Narcosis
Alice stood in the shadows scoping for danger. Unless you considered a smouldering Ford pickup truck in the fenced-off cement lot across the street dangerous, it was clear. It was always clear. The only vehicle in evidence was the white Lincoln Town Car parked near the door.
"Sparky, you going to start that car or do we have to push it all the way across town?" Alice shouted at the huge bald and tattooed human standing next to it. Clearly a Vin Deisel fan.
Paul stepped out with a vampette on his arm. She had a balloon butt that made Alice think that her own butt felt flat. Paul exchanged little light kisses with the undead as they entered the car. Alice closed the door and slipped into the shotgun seat.
Paul and his latest toy were oblivious in each other's arms, but Alice was awake and alert. She saw headlights round the corner of the block as they pulled away. Without hesitation she shouted "Down!" at Paul, and "Gun it Curly!" at the driver. As they shot away Paul was trying to ask questions from the floor of the car.
"What? Who?"
Alice had her guns out and was peering behind them. "Not sure, but when was the last time you saw a brand new Viper drive down this street?"
Paul laughed even as baldy was letting off the gas, "You are paranoid, Bunny, but that's what I pay you for."
*** July 1 2006, 12 Noon, Oceanside Ramada Inn
A dissheveled person looking mostly homeless and smelling worse stumbled into the lobby of the Oceanside Ramada Inn. The woman behind the desk picked up the phone to dial 9-1-1 and the security guard rushed forward to turn the bum around.
The man turned at the guard and roared. The wild and mindless scream made the guard reach for his pepper spray. Mr. Freeman stepped out of the conference room. He strolled purposefully down the hallway until he was standing in the lobby.
"Mr. Johnson, I presume?" he said in even emotionless tones.
The pale wildman whirled to face the suit who had addressed him, "Gahhh!" it screamed then shuffled toward him.
Mr. Freeman calmly turned to the woman holding the phone limply, "Miss, please cancel the call to the Police, Mr. Johnson - my associate - will behave himself. I guarantee it."
The two wandered back down the hall to the conference room and closed the door. When the desk woman approached it later it was locked and there were no sounds coming from within.
*** July 1, 2006 - 12:02am Narcosis
The shiny black Viper powered down the street while a window glided down and a body was flung from the car. It rolled a few times and came to rest against a nearby palm tree.
The creature at the front door might have been considered human if he wasn't green and covered with blue spikes all over. He watched the body flop, roll and stop without much emotion. He waited a few minutes longer and started to walk away when an alarmed sound came from the body.
"MMmmMM!"
The Brachen demon stopped in mid-turn. That sound was familiar. "Fred? Is that you?"
He walked over to the body and rolled it back so he could see it better. It was Fred all right. But the Brachen demon ran back into Narcosis with wide eyes once he got a good look.
*** July 1, 2006, 3pm, Oceanside Ramada Inn
The Testarossa screamed into the parking lot and came to an abrupt halt. The pounding music that hung around the car like a smokey aura suddenly ceased as the engine cut off. A man dressed in light and bright clothing rolled from the car and strolled into the Ramada. He passed the counter without a second glance.
But the eyes at the counter watched him. Those deep brown eyes of the cute clerk followed his every move. In the back of her mind she thought "mrwoww..." and imagined him in a thong cleaning the pool there at the Ramada. Glistening brown skin and fit muscles rippling...
He opened the conference room door without knocking and her fantasies evaporated. *Not if he is hanging with those weirdos,* she rationalized.
Inside the conference room Mr. Johnson and Mr. Freeman sat silently at the table. Mr Johnson's eyes rolled back to focus on the new arrival. A tasteful slurp as Mr Johnson swallowed his trickle of drool preceeded his greeting.
"We have been waiting, Mr. Harper."
Harper shrugged as he whipped off his shades, dropped into a seat and swung his sockless feet onto the conference table. "Johnson's not getting any fresher, I can smell," said Harper, "But you aren't getting any older either Freeman."
"True, Harper, but we cannot proceed until we are all here," said Freeman glaring at the latest arrival through pale blue eyes.
Harper laughed, "How can you stand to wait in here with this meat puppet?" he pointed at Johnson.
"One adjusts to the duties one performs," said Freeman.
Harper sniffed and regretted it, "So who are we getting for Valerian? Has he replaced Butler?" he said changing the unpleasant subject.
*** July 1, 12:10am, Narcosis
There was a small crowd around Fred. He thrashed on the floor of the club because he could not stand with his legs bound together as they were. His arms had been stitched across his chest in a parody of a corpse at rest. His mouth was sewn closed with coarse thread. His eyes were wide open becasue their lids had been hacked off. He looked like shit.
Most people would have died if subjected to such torture but Fred wasn't human, he was a vampire. Fugue had come over and was examining (or was it admiring) the work. He touched the embroidery and marveled at the strength it must have taken to pull tight the stitches against Fred's struggles.
Judging from the distended stomach, Fred must have had his innards removed and then replaced with something. Well, except for the heart.
"MMMMMM! MM! M!" said Fred.
*And lungs,* thought Fugue.
Fugue liked surprises. They made an otherwise mudane existence exciting for brief periods of time before allowing things to return to normal. Sometimes they were very dangerous and frightening; but ultimately, temporary.
Fugue poked at Fred a few times then pulled out a huge folding knife. A few of the surrunding junkies and vampires started a slight buzz about what he was planning. Fred started to wiggle and make a lot of noise.
Fugue placed a hand on Fred's forehead and poked the knife into his football-laced gut. The point hit something hard, and Fred started to weep. *That was an interesting reaction,* thought Fugue.
Ten heads and two pseudopods leaned forward in anticipation. They had the best view of the blossoming fireball that started from Fred's gut and mushroomed outwards from there.
Narcosis burned with rolling black clouds of burned flesh smells until sunrise.
*** July 1, 2005 5pm -- Oceanside Ramada Inn
The oriental woman strode past the counter and went unchallenged; her bearing and manner were clearly beyond interruption from the path they were pursuing like a celestial orbit. She stopped before the conference room door and it opened as if by her command and she entered with brisk steps and took her place at the table.
Johnson spoke a slow ponderous word, "Vaaaaa lllllleeeeerrrr iiiiiii annnnnn."
The woman bowed to the company, "I am Ms Yu. My master Lord Valerian has sent me to meet with you."
Harper snorted, "Lord Valerian?"
Even Freeman raised a cold eyebrow, "It would seem that our collegue has acquired a new title."
Ms Yu bowed deeper, "My apologies, gentlemen, I am new at these sorts of dealings, Lor... er... Valerian's status to me should not be spoken here. I will endeavor to..."
Her wordy apology was cut short as she stood upright and her head flew backwards. Her table mates, too, stood and their heads tilted back with mouths agape.
"The Rook is established. The business begins," intoned a ghostly voice that emitted from Harper's slack face and open mouth. Harper's mouth did not move.
"At last. I thought for certain I would be bored to death again if I had to watch another second of that mundane exchange," came a crisp and sharp voice from the rigid Freeman.
"Business, gentlemen, we don't have long. Dathan, what have you done? Your little stunt this morning will draw undue attention to us," the strange male voice of Valerian scolded from within Ms Yu's body.
Johnson's wild man voice became impossibly deep and menacing, "Valerian, you kept us waiting for hours. You have no right to scold me! Fop! Dandy! You parade in front of the mortals like a target waiting for them to attack you! Why don't you..."
"Silence!" came the voice from Harper, "This is pointless. Dathan may have struck a blow but no-one can trace it back to him. It serves as a fine starting place. Surely the bickering to place blame will serve as ample distraction for our needs."
"Agreed," said the Freeman-voice, "I calculate that this will also serve to group the lesser ones into alliances that will make them easier to eliminate."
"Pah!," said the rumble of Johnson, "Plan, calulate, talk, talk, talk, talk. You waste centuries wih talk. The best plan is on the battlefield... KILL!" he roared.
Valerian's dulcet tones drifted from Yu's open mouth, "Soon, Dathan. Let us aim you then you may kill as you do so well. What of the Slayer?"
There was a momentary silence. A reverence. "She is active here as our oracles had foretold," came the Freeman voice.
"Krispin, I always knew your far-planning would pay off one day," said the Harper voice.
"Thank you, Nicholas," said Krispin's voice, "But you uncovered the prophecy that set this in motion."
Nicholas' voice was dripping with honey, "But our dear young Valerian found the clues we needed to decipher it, didn't you?"
Dathan cut in, "Shut up! More talk. Wasted time with meaningless ego. Find that slayer. Kill her! Turn her!"
Valerian cleared his throat, an strange sound coming disembodied as it was from Ms Yu, "Yes. Find her and Kill her. Find her. Kill her. Turn her. Use her. We are agreed, then."
Four heads as one dropped to the table. Slowly - one by one - as they had arrived the four attendants left. They dragged and limped and coughed quietly as they exited the hotel.
"Have a nice evening!" said the new girl at the counter with a professional smile.
Ms. Yu looked down her spectacles at the girl and made her shrink back slightly from the menace, "I sincerely doubt it," she said.
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Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Monday, 24 July 2006
Nikolai’s Apartment
11:32am
Introducing Denis Leary as Damen “Trigger” Kirk
It still seemed unreal to her.
Zoë looked around the apartment, surveying the furniture. There were so many memories she was fond of. There, she was sitting down the first time Nikolai invited her into his apartment. Off in the sun room, just sitting with him and hearing Alexander Nevsky. Everything was the same from the first time she’d come over to let herself in.
A small meow caught her attention, Tolstoy looking up at her with a questioning look. He knew something was wrong, although Zoë came over to feed him. A couple of nights, she stopped by with Ben to give the cat human attention… and to hope that Nikolai would be there. Or had returned home.
“I don’t know what happened either,” she said, scooping up the cat into her arms. She needed to take the day off work, to be with herself while Ben was off at summer camp. Needed to think, wonder what happened to Nikolai. Still holding the cat, she walked around the apartment.
*What am I doing?* she wondered offhandedly. Mostly it was reminiscing in memories the man she had fallen for, and had witnessed vanish in a light show that would have taxed even the best studios to reproduce. That was one event she was not likely to forget, even if she spent a good amount of time trying to rationalise what went on.
Tolstoy meowed and shifted without warning. “Ok, ok,” Zoë said, letting the cat down. He immediately bounded off for the sun room again, probably to nap in his favourite spot once again. There had always seemed to be something mysterious about her Kolya, something hinted at but left unsaid. But even he had seemed surprised by the events that went on.
Slowly, she looked around the apartment. There was that vague hope in her that maybe her really did have a clue what was going on, that she could find some hint as to where he could have gone. Part of her still regretted that last day, the fight they’d had.
Zoë had meant what she said. She had fairly liberal political views, and didn’t see why anyone who was a law abiding citizen should even need a gun for personal protection. Kolya knew her feelings on the matter from a few offhand remarks she’d made. No wonder he hadn’t brought it up. Still, she pushed the guilt from her mind at the moment.
After a half hour of looking around, she was convinced that Nikolai was not the type to be easily stereotyped. There wasn’t much to find, really. He was a fan of science fiction and had a number of the classics on his shelves, including the Foundation series and Dune. In a couple of cases, she noted that he had both English and Russian copies – the Russian ones older and more worn.
When she had at last reached the bedroom, trying to find something, anything that could help her find him, she stopped cold in her tracks. She slowly sat down on the bed and cried softly.
She looked up several minutes later at the sound of knocking on the door. That should could hear it all the way back here probably meant that whoever was out there was being quite loud and had been there for some time. Zoë steadied herself, wiping her eyes dry. Who could it be knocking so urgently at this time? Certainly not their landlord, who was out of town at the moment.
Looking out the view portal, she saw a man she didn’t know standing there. He had short cut light hair and wore shades. Dark coloured jeans and a black leather jacket hung over his frame, exuding an aura of confidence. There was a feeling about him that this man would take no nonsense.
Outside, Damen Kirk swore. “Jesus Christ, answer the goddamn door,” he said quietly, getting ready to bang on it again. Trying to find a man you owed a favour to was a difficult proposition at best when he vanished and didn’t want to be found. What kind of fucking name was Nikolai Makarov, anyway? The man should have stuck with Andropov Andreievich.
Finally the door opened a crack, with the chain hooked in the door. He could make out some of the features of the woman who answered it – long blonde hair, and fairly plain looking though with a certain something about her that still made her attractive. She was obviously dressing down today, and her eyes looked red, like she had just been crying.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Damen was not very surprised to see the woman answer the door. It figured that Nikolai would find someone to shack up with now that the man was ‘retired.’ He felt sorry for her. Nikolai probably shacked up with a ‘civilian’ and word on the street was that the guy after him had a real hate going. “I’m trying to find Mr. Makarov,” he said simply, “I’m an old business associate of his. It’s urgent.”
Zoë wondered what exactly that had to mean. Business? But he’d already told her that he was involved some with the Committee of State Security and Organised Crime after the fall of the Soviet Union. But he’d gotten out of that, hadn’t he? *Or maybe he didn’t,* she thought, *Maybe he’s still in… Someone was threatening him, and that’s why he vanished. It was a way to leave without a trace.*
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, “but Kolya is not here.”
“What?” Damen said. Trust him to be gone at a time like this! It couldn’t be possible that the other had already reached him, was it? “What the fuck do you mean he’s not here? Hey, Kolya, get your ass out here! It’s Trigger!” Everyone knew him by the nickname, earned for his tendency to shoot first and try to ask a question after everyone was dead. Especially when he was pissed off, which was most of the time.
“I’m telling you, he’s not here,” she said, a little worried. Partly it was because of the loud, boisterous man in front of her. Mostly it was genuine worry for Nikolai. “He… he… disappeared a week ago.” *Not that I would tell a guy calling himself ‘Trigger’ where he went,* she thought.
Damen’s voice was full of shock and mild annoyance. “Disappeared? That’s just fucking great. He’ll probably turn up dead now.” He noticed a look of worry pass across the woman’s face. The word on the street came back to him. “You two close?”
The woman nodded at that.
“Let me give you some free advice: you see Kolya, you tell him to bug out, and the sooner the better, you know what I’m saying? You two make like ghosts and disappear, all right?” Only he couldn’t quite accept that his old friend and companion was already gone; he had to be around here somewhere. When he left, he didn’t know that he had just increased the woman’s worry and curiosity.
Though he was resolved to let the former hitman know what was going on. It was the least he could do.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Monday, 24th July 2006 - 6am
Without a thought, Maggie jumped down and strong arms lifted her gently to the floor of the sewers. Janey frowned, then with a glance behind her at the shrinking shadows she followed her sister. The drain cover slid back into place as the sunlight hit the edge.
“What have we here then?” a low gentle voice asked.
Maggie only smiled; she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Janey. “Thank you ever so much for your kindness. May the gods smile upon you.”
Maggie frowned at her sister’s out of place comments but began to laugh when Janey took up both of the stranger's hands, and vigorously shook them up and down.
“What!? I thought that was what one does in polite society!”
The stranger laughed with Maggie, “I’m not sure if we’re polite here!“ and she warmed to him instantly.
Janey, bashful, said, “So, er, what is your name?”
“James.” He turned and walked away, calling behind him, “Follow me.”
Maggie smiled. *A game of chase,* she thought, *Now this is interesting.*
Janey marched closer to her twin. “Maggie, who is this man?”
“A man. An attractive man. Do you need to know more?”
Janey sighed in disgust. “Where is he taking us?”
“Somewhere without sunlight!”
“But why?”
“Because we die if we go into the sun!”
“No - why did he rescue us?”
“Because he was being kind! I don’t know. Look - we must be nearly there!”
“We must be WHERE?”
Maggie shrugged and Janey gave up. Maggie climbed through the small door and entered a large airy room - a crypt.
“Ladies, if you would like to leave your stuff in this room. Don’t look so concerned. You don’t have to stay. I’m just trying to help. I remember when I was first changed. Hard Times. If it wasn’t for Black Jem and the Black Veins, I don’t know where I’d be.”
Maggie went inside and dropped her large designer carrier bags beside one of the twin beds. Janey followed far more warily, and closed the door behind her. Maggie immediately pulled off her t-shirt. “What a hot guy!”
“A hot guy? Is that all you have to say?”
"No. You’re right. He’s a hot guy, with a perfect crypt, and a knack for saving damsels in distress.”
“Oh, you’re impossible! We are in a strange city, with strange clothes, in a strange sewer, with a strange man!”
“Janey! Calm down! Ooooh, I hope he has something to eat, I’m starving!” Maggie stood posing at Janey in a very short skirt, her new Jimmy Choo sandals, and a Versace gypsy top. “How do I look?” she giggled, as her poses got more and more ridiculous.
Janey laughed at her sister. Pausing, she sighed, “Gorgeous,” (The answer she knew Maggie wanted and the truth in one word.) “But I hope you aren’t planning to go out like that. People will see most of your legs!!!!”
Maggie smiled and walked out of their room, leaving Janey sitting on a bed shaking her head. Maggie heard noises from the adjoining room and James came out, holding two steaming cups.
“Coffee?” she queried.
He smiled. “Fresh. Hot. Blood.”
She shivered and took the outstretched cup. Their cold fingers brushed each other and for a moment she looked up into his face, deep into his eyes. And she thought flickeringly that it was time to enjoy herself – for the first time in decades.
* * *
“We were sun goddesses, after we were turned.”
“Goddesses?” James asked, frowning, “Of the sun? The one thing that is most fatal to us - isn’t that a bit ironic?”
Janey smiled, relaxing slightly. “Very, but people can escape facts that are right under their nose if they want. They chose what they wanted to believe.”
James nodded at Janey, but his eyes never left Maggie’s face. Maggie nodded. “When Peru was first invaded by the Europeans or something, we were hidden - and only raised - what? about a hundred years ago now. And we’ve been here ever since.”
Janey shivered and drifted away from the conversation, from the present, to shadowed and painful memories.
She felt herself moving, although she remained in a deep sleep. Awed silences hung around her as she lay in state, alone with her sister. Her senses were alert, even though her body was asleep. When the lid of her coffin was removed, excited voices roused her. As she began to stir, she heard chanting. Chanting in her own, ancient language. A chant to raise the dead. Her senses stirred and she felt her sister awaken beside her. The two girls took their first deep breaths as one, and sat up. At once, the chant began more excited, frantic and louder.
Jicaques stared around her in horror, seeing only the huge candles and burning fires lit all around the room. She forgot who she was as the terror of fire rose up inside her. She heard a panic-filled screaming. And only realised as her harsh unused voice echoed around the warehouse, that it was her own. Mendiela was beside her, face darkly looming vampiric, full of fear and ready to kill to defend them both from the flames. Jicaques moved with her as they dragged people to them, bit down and drank.
The circle broke as those who had sought to resurrect the goddess scattered in panic. Screaming their terrible anger and fear, they moved with deadly ease, killing for the first time, bloodlust and terror driving them. A massacre; in a frenzy of hunger, terror and panic she and her sister killed all their would-be servants. The flames which had once been contained, were now spreading through the abandoned warehouse. Jicaques took her sister's arm and they ran.
“What about you, James? Tell me, us, about you.”
Janey stirred and opened her eyes to see her sister leaning across the table to James. Uh-oh.
James recounted to the twins his rebirth, blessed upon him by his best friend. His first terrifying six months as a vampire alone and lost in LA. And finally how he met Black Jem and became a Black Vein. He was surprised by Maggie’s keenness to find out about Black Jem and her gang.
*Maybe,* he thought smugly to himself, *maybe she isn’t really interested in the Black Veins at all. Maybe she’s just interested in me.*
“So, how would a new vampire join this ‘gang’?” Janey asked eagerly.
Maggie was surprised, she didn’t realise her twin might have the same ambitious drive she did. She was surprised her idea had even occurred to Janey. She smiled; glad to be in LA, glad to be with her sister. And glad to have met James.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Tuesday 25th July late afternoon
Maria poked a finger in the liquid and stirred. She had borrowed a large glass bowl, filled it with water and sprinkled dust on top. She watched the patterns they formed and consulted one of the many books she had found lying around. She was getting better at what she had found out were only little magicks. She could read tarot to a certain extent - Mantheana had helped for that one. I Ching was both complicated and confusing and Maria had not been inspired to continue. But tea leaf reading had caught her attention. It was not very accurate, or informative, but was helpful to the keen observer. Already she could see when the doorbell was about to ring and was one step ahead when Yasha felt the need to tackle her. She had dabbled in other things too. Things her mother didn't need to know about.
Maria had plans. She wanted a life, and she wanted Mantheana to be a part of it. But Mantheana was too often stuck in the past. Things needed to be brought to surface and dealt with. Maria had it planned - or did she? At the back of her mind there was worry. She did not fully understand everything, but she felt that she knew enough. However, she had sparked off events that she could not control. She didn't know if things would work out. She gazed once more into the dust patterns. They blurred before her eyes. Her emotions clouded he truth. Now no matter how hard she stared, she could not see things.
Maria snapped out of the trance and started to clear things away. She tipped the bowl's contents down the toilet and tidied away her dolls. She put her materials into their correct boxes and closed the door to her doll's house. It was not needed for now.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Day Two – G’rnatha
Late Morning
Victor sat heavily in the cave and waved to the others to come forward. His alien features were inscrutable to the others but his body language was not mistakable. He was burdened with guilt and responsibility. His clenched fists spoke to his rage at the Creators for placing him in this situation. "We need a plan of action, folks. I am open to suggestions on how we can all get to the Temple of Ghortab."
"Well, it seems a nice day to walk across an alien planet," Nikolai said only half jokingly. He figured this would be the way that they actually had to do it. Though his mind was still repeating that mantra from earlier: *Not a roach, not a roach...* in an attempt to keep breakfast down, which so far was working.
Ever since she'd first heard how far the group had to travel, she knew that taking it all on by foot was not something they'd be able to tackle with ease. If at all. Almost as an instinctive reaction, she'd begun conceiving a better alternative, but with what she had come up with in mind, she didn't really know much about. Withdrawing her dagger to subconsciously pick out the dirt between her nails, she turned her purposeful eyes up to Victor.
"That Monitor thing we encountered yesterday: what exactly is its artillery and defences like?"
Victor didn't have a mouth to frown with but his tone conveyed his unhappiness. "Monitors are nearly as well defended as I am with respect to armor. They have an energy field that protects them against attacks as well.
"For attacking, Monitors use a special slime that is corrosive and neutralizes the slime of Battle Fiends as well as reducing them to goo. But the most dangerous things that Monitors can do is communicate through the thought net to other Monitors and to squadrons of Battle Fiends."
Victor let his statements hang in the air a few moments as he remembered his run-ins with the Monitors outside the Temple of Ghortab as he was escaping and his fear of being eliminated as defective like all the Battle Fiends pounding at the door of the Temple. He shivered involuntarily as he contemplated the unlikelihood of his survival given those odds. *What are the odds of survival for this group?* he pondered.
Victor mused aloud, "Monitors only have one weakness and that is they don't reason well outside battle conditions. They tend to accept orders without question or analysis."
That got Tash thinking about what she and Victor had spoken about earlier that morning. He’d asked her about calling Z’thrukaht directly. That wouldn’t work because she had no way to access him without alerting the rest of the Creators, but she hadn’t considered the possibility of contacting a Monitor.
Darian looked ready to speak, but Tash’s thoughtful “Hmmmm” caused him to turn and look at her with a raised eyebrow. She glanced quickly at everyone else, her eyes bouncing quickly from Nikolai’s increasingly blue-streaked orbs and finally settling on Victor’s red demon eyes.
“I’m not sure how or even if it would work, but I can at least sense the Monitors through this thought net. Maybe I could contact one…?” She let the sentence hang as a question in the air.
“Even if you manage to call a Monitor, how are we supposed to get it to bring us to the temple?” Darian said, raising the question that was likely on everyone’s mind. “If it’s got a force field, our fists aren’t really going to do very much”.
The fae sighed exasperatedly before opening his mouth to continue. However, the words never came. The others looked on confused, as Darian seemed to suddenly become distracted for a few moments. “Uhhh, yeah,” he said, somewhat unfocused, “That’s really what I… I have to say.”
It's a machine. Reprogram it," Reah shrugged, sighing as she curled up her fingers to examine them, "At least I'm assuming it's a machine and not some machine looking biological organism. Either way, it's not invincible."
She paused, redirecting her focus to address Darian alone, "Of course, if you really prefer to, you can walk the 2000 miles."
Nodding for emphasis, Tash chimed in, “Reah’s quite right, Darian. There’s no need to attack one. If I can contact one, it will assume I’m a Creator and accept my orders. I’ll just tell it to pick up five biologicals and one Battle Fiend and it should do just that. The trick will be to make sure it doesn’t get different orders from a real Creator, and to stop it from broadcasting what it’s doing.”
She turned to face Victor, “And I have no idea how to stop that instant playback you spoke of. As soon as the Creators ‘hear’ what that particular Monitor is doing, we’ll be in deep shit.”
"What about Zathras?" Nikolai asked, trying to think through everything with the limited knowledge he had available - and still not getting the name right. A plan was starting to form in his mind. If worst came to worst, it might be possible to bluff the Creator into co-operating.
"Comrade Creator must be intelligent enough to realise we have to reach the factory first. If he can just keep that instant playback from informing his fellow Creators..." The thought continued to form. He wondered just how vital Victor was to the Creator's plans. If he was indispensable, that could prove useful.
“Well I guess we don’t really have much of a choice in the matter then do we,” Darian cut in. “And no, I don’t feel like walking,” he added to Reah, somewhat annoyed at her constant sarcastic remarks. It was bad enough to be stuck in some weird dimension, but to be stuck in it with a chick with attitude, now that was just horrible.
Brushing off his feelings of irritation, Darian turned to Tash, “So you think you’re up to this?”
“I won’t be able to do it without Z’thrukaht’s help,” Tash admitted, “Right now if I tried to contact a Monitor I’d likely be sending thoughts to everything on the planet. But the Creators must have some way of accessing individual units.” She shook her head. Dammit, she was starting to talk like Z’thrukaht now.
Sighing, she continued doggedly, “It seems apparent from yesterday’s exchange with him,” she cast a sidelong glance at Victor, “that he doesn’t want to expose himself unnecessarily. But I’m sure he could be persuaded to give me lessons on basic Monitor handling.”
She glanced at Alice and shared a significant look with Victor. Getting to the Temple and therefore off this planet in the shortest possible time was imperative, not just to minimise the risks to all their lives, but to ensure Alice's survival.
"You are right that he won't expose himself. He won't even lift a finger to help us unless it is so clandestine he won't have to get his hands dirty," Victor’s vitriol at Z'thrukaht was apparent. He had no love lost for his Creator.
"The bottom line: we have a deadline to meet. The longer we stay here the less likely we can ever get home. If we have to wrangle a Monitor to carry us then we do that. They aren't meant to be passenger transports but we have limited options. Unless we want to try to modify Nikolai's car into an off-road cart I'd say that is our best option."
"There is a way we might force him to act," Nikolai said, noting the look Tash gave him. She had probably picked up bits and pieces of his idea. She might not like it, but things might very well come to that. "Victor, just how important are you to Comrade Creator's plans?"
"In who-knows-how-many years and models similar to me I am the only one to get this far. I'd say that makes me irreplaceable. Of course the bug is in the system already and there may be others but Z'thrukaht and the other loyalists to Ghortab are playing a losing game. Sooner or later, unless something changes, they are going to wind up out of time."
Victor stated the facts bluntly. The others were quite clear that this was an all-or-nothing deal. If Victor didn't succeed, Z'thrukaht had no reason to help them. They were dispensable in the mission that had been imposed. But Victor was not, and that lent some hope and leverage to their side.
Nikolai considered the position carefully. His plan could still be used, but it would be risky. "Since you are indispensable, then, I have a risky proposition. If Comrade Creator wants to succeed, he'll have to risk his exposure sooner or later."
From the look Tash was giving him, he knew that she had just picked up on the plan, and was ready to say something. He cut her off before she could. "I know how you feel for him, but it may come to that. If it looks like we're dead either way, we make it clear to Comrade Creator that he loses: we kill Victor if he doesn't at least give some assistance."
Reah nodded slowly in agreement to Nikolai's suggestion with a silently impressed expression drawn on her features.
Tash leant forward, hands on her knees and her eyes cold as they bored into Nikolai’s disturbingly altered irises. In a quiet, controlled voice she said, “First, we find out if the Creator is willing to help with the control of a Monitor before we do anything stupid. Second, if we ever get in a situation so desperate that you need to make that bluff, we might consider it but not before then. Third, I have a rule – I don’t kill humans. But I might make an exception in your case if you harm Victor in any way. Are we clear, Kolya?”
“Tash, you don’t have to worry about that. In that case I’ll kill him for you,” Alice said with unmistakable menace.
“I agree with Tash - there is no need to put any of us in any more danger than we’re already in,” Darian said quietly, trying to ease the mounting tension in the room. “We might as well stick with the first idea about controlling the Monitor. At least like that, if it doesn’t work, we’ll all be in the same sinking ship.”
"Bloody hell! What a pansy," muttered Reah, barely audible or comprehensible under her breath, all the while staring at Darian in bewilderment with a furrowed brow.
Tash turned her cold eyes to Darian, and watched him watching her as the icy fire slowly died in them and she nodded. When she glanced back at Nikolai, though, a spark of warning flared briefly again before subsiding.
Nikolai kept a defiant look on his face at Tash's warning. She knew too damn well the way he thought, and that he wouldn't consider it a bluff. With luck things would not come to that. "And if we do not have the access codes, what do you propose we do?" Russian pessimism began to come to the forefront again. "An armed assault will get Battle Fiends coming down on us. I doubt we will be able to do much without the ability, as Tasha put it, to access an individual unit."
"As I said, Kolya, we'll cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, let's work on the assumption that Z'thrukaht will at least help us that much. It doesn't expose him to risk at all, so I see no reason for him to refuse. He does want us to succeed, after all. Victor has made it clear that he won't do squat without our safety being guaranteed. That alone should be leverage enough." Tash glared at both Nikolai and Reah, "There's no need to sacrifice Victor on any altar just yet."
Reah raised a hand in her defence, keeping emotion tucked far away from clouding her judgments, "Tash, I'm sorry if it looks like I'm willing or, of all things, eager to have harm fall on Victor. I know him too; he's a great friend! He's one of the beings here I'd least like to see harm befall!"
She kept her gaze steady and unmoving as Tash's eyes glared daggers, "I'm willing to wait and see what the Johnson guy says, but if it comes down to it... We're not going to kill, or severely harm him, if we harm him at all. I'm hoping we don't have to. However things unfold: we're all part of the same team, and there's nothing I value more than those I work with and fight alongside."
Victor's head swivelled side to side during the debate, focusing on each person's thoughts and feelings. He broke into the conversation, "I am touched by all the love here, but I have to agree with Nikolai. If all else fails, one sacrifice to save the rest is acceptable. Wouldn't you rather it was a willing sacrifice?"
Alice and Tash made sounds in their throats that made it clear that that would not be an option.
Alice stood up and began to gather a few essentials, "Well, love to stay and chat but I am tired of sitting on my cotton-tailed ass. We need to get going. I don't know where to find a Monitor, water, more food, or anything, but I know damn sure it isn't here."
"Alice is right. I’m getting tired of waiting here for something to happen; it's time we do something," Darian added.
Tash looked at Alice and Darian gratefully. “Absolutely,” she agreed, “There’s no point in jumping the gun and discussing a contingency that’s unlikely to ever eventuate.” She glanced meaningfully at Nikolai, Reah and Victor at that.
“I’m at the stage where I can sense the nearby Monitors, but I don’t dare contact them until I’ve had a chance to talk with Z’thrukaht. For that we have to wait until he contacts me again. I can’t contact him without tipping off all the other Creators. In the meantime, we need to collect more water. Now that we know where there’s a handy steam vent, why don’t we send a party to get more water? This stuff is almost gone,” Tash indicated the nearly-empty water containers that surrounded them.
It was clear from the hurt feelings and sour expressions that a common enemy wasn't enough to keep their band together yet. Alice was leaving the cave. Victor pointed at Darian, "Go with her, and keep an eye out for closer steam vents on the way. Take whatever you can carry for containers and be careful."
Tash looked at the remaining people. Nikolai was throwing evil looks her way and she stood, muttering, “Think I need some fresh air,” as she gathered containers with Darian and hastened out of the cave.
Victor watched Nikolai sulk as Tash grabbed a few makeshift containers that the others had cobbled together from bits of leather and Battle Fiend shells. He understood how she felt - he wished he could be anywhere but here as well. But fate had put them all here and if there was one thing Victor had learned in over 2000 years it was that fate did not mess around.
Victor waited for her to turn around to face him, but she kept her back to all of them as she made haste to exit the cave. “Take care, love,” he said to her retreating back.
Tash paused and nodded briefly, still not looking back as she faced the wild and windswept G’rnathan day.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Day Two - G’rnatha
Late Afternoon
Reah hurled a small rock forcefully into the vast landscape, sending it skittering across the harsh fractured ground and cracking into the surrounding boulders and crevices, before sweeping up another and hurling that far off into the distance as well.
"That was a good one," Victor said behind her. He raised his taloned hand to his gem-like eyes and scanned the landscape, "There was never any shortage of the damn things when I was living here and now I can't see any from here to the horizon."
Victor looked over at Tash who was looking sceptical at best and at Nikolai who had gotten past scared and was approaching pissed off. He looked back at the next rock Reah hurled into the distance and watched as it bounced a few times before disappearing into a crevice.
Victor was a little sceptical himself, *Of course Tash is willing to try it; she'd do anything for me. But how much have you done for her on this trip? You've been distant and unavailable to her.*
"So, anyone see a Monitor?" Victor turned to Darian, "The big flying saucers," he explained.
He walked over to where Tash was standing. He placed an armored hand around her waist and quietly murmured to her, "Any more word?"
Tash looked at Victor balefully, "It's him, you know. He's keeping them away from this whole area, after our 'chat'."
When Tash and Darian had returned - Aliceless - from the water gathering, Tash had told them of Z'thrukaht's latest contact. She'd been bent over a puddle near a steam vent, trying not to get steam in her face when that pressure had started in her brain. Z'thrukaht's ring tone, as she liked to think of it. When she'd put forward their thoughts about using a Monitor as transport he'd been very dismissive, despite her cajoling. He'd been worried that if he showed her how to control a Monitor she might not be able to maintain it and if she slipped up Z'thrukaht would be exposed.
"Damn weasely shithead that he is," she added under her breath.
Nikolai was more than slightly annoyed at the Creator. He personally blamed Darian’s ineptness for the entire fiasco. Come to think of it, he suspected much of what went wrong would be Darian’s fault. Nothing the man had done inspired much confidence in him at the moment.
Which was when an idea began to form. “Perhaps if the Monitors will not come by this area, we should set out looking for them? Or try to get one’s attention?”
He turned to Victor, watching his mandibles subconsciously move back and forth. Despite spending time with him, he still couldn’t believe that Tash had married a giant roach. “Is there anything we can do that is like making a small noise to get a lone guard to check out something, but is not likely severe enough to require notification of others what he is doing?”
"Perhaps," Victor mused thoughtfully, "The steam vent has never been cleaned up since it exploded. It only just exploded yesterday. A Monitor would have been dispatched to investigate the scene. If there was sufficient 'raw material' lying around it would call a small squad of Battle Fiends to collect the debris."
Victor turned and looked back at Darian, "You’ve been there twice, did you see any 'flying saucers' while you were there?"
“Nothing. Haven’t seen one since we first arrived,” Darian replied to the large insect, “Either we’ve been really lucky staying out of view, or maybe the guy in Tash’s brain is doing something so we don’t get caught.” Frustrated at the futile attempts they had been making, the fae haphazardly kicked some rocks in front of him. “There has got to be a quicker way of getting these guys’ attention.”
Nikolai thought over that for a minute. If no Monitor had been in the area, perhaps an investigation was due. Tash said she thought that the Creator was keeping Monitors away from them, and he’d contacted her outside the steam vent. Years of assassination kicked in. The same principles of a hit applied; it’s just that the job was bigger.
“We could try looking for one at the steam vent then,” he suggested, “If the target does not frequent an area, you will not even get a bad shot.”
”Yeah, of course," Tash nodded, "If one should have been checking out that vent Z'thrukaht might have been holding it back while we talked."
She looked around at the five of them standing there, then looked up at Victor, "But Alice isn't back yet - shouldn't we wait for her before we go?"
"You should be careful. They might think you missed me," Alice chuckled as she appeared from behind a rise. Alice dropped her pack on the ground and, kneeling down, she pulled some small stones from the pouches. "This should work."
Tash beamed, “Great. Look, we were about to head off to the steam vent. Victor has told us that Monitors are sent to investigate newly exploded ones, so we might find one now. After Z’thrukaht pooh-poohed our idea of me using the net to control one we thought we’d try getting one anyway and be damned. But you’ll need to eat first.”
She looked around at the rest of the party. “Maybe we could wait a little while for Alice to see if she can make heat to boil water for soup? We’ve all eaten, but she hasn’t for nearly two days now.”
Darian turned and walked over to Alice and Tash, a sympathetic look plastered across his face. “I’ll wait. Its better that you get your strength back now, before anything potentially dangerous happens,” he said to Alice reassuringly.
"Hun, I haven’t lost any strength yet and besides, Victor thinks I’m getting a little hippy - for him anyway. I can stand to lose some water weight." Alice crushed two of the rocks in her hand. "I can pound these on the way."
Tash raised an eyebrow at Victor. “Hippy?” Turning back to Alice, she nodded reluctantly, "If you're sure..."
At Alice's confirming nod she shrugged. “Ok, then. How exactly do we plan to get a Monitor without being killed?”
Victor started to say "Call me crazy, but..." then thought better of it with this crowd.
"I have an idea that we just lay around the hole looking like bodies. Just pile a few pieces of carapace on top of us then the Monitor will come in and broadcast local commands to see if it gets any response."
He nodded at Tash, "That would give you a chance to access it directly without having to use the thought net." He then looked back at the others, "We should have a physical contingency plan for dealing with it. I doubt it will cruise more than 30 or 40 feet off the ground if it is scouting."
The fae looked thoughtful for a second before finally addressing what was on his mind to Victor. “If it’s flying at 30 feet, I could maybe reach it by jumping, and try to somehow get it to crash land, that is however if we found a way to stop the force field you said it had.”
Reah kept silent and just listened to the plan the group was conjuring. She gazed thoughtfully towards the scorched skies while drawing one of her Ares Predators, then aimed at nothing. Accurately determining the 30 feet, she sniffed, *I could clear about fifteen feet easily. Twenty-two feet, if I stretched and levered myself.* Chuckling cynically, she reholstered her pistol and smiled at Darian, *Oh well, I suppose we could spare the cannon fodder.*
For some reason, Nikolai doubted that the man could jump 30 feet, let alone force one of the large Monitors to land. The tactician went to work. "It's risky, but just the fact that an attack on one is happening should get ZZ Top's attention," he still lacked the patience to try to pronounce the name, "which means he will either have to aid us and risk exposure, or let the attack fail, be exposed, and see Victor's mission fail."
Victor agreed and with the beginnings of a plan they set off together for the steam vent. A little over an hour and a half later they were approaching the vent and in the distance they could see the ominous circling shape of a small monitor. The flattened teardrop shape hovered above the ground and performed a slow spiral search. It was obvious that it would be upon them quickly. It was fortunate they had had time to discuss the particulars of their plan because without much ado they dropped to the ground and waited.
The shadow of the Monitor slid over them and Tash emitted a soft moan as the powerful telepathic broadcast of the Monitors gave her an instant headache. Without warning Victor stood bolt upright and spoke aloud, "Reportin... shit."
Victor hoarsely whispered to the group, "I am reporting a malfunction that is under repair but it won't take that excuse for long. Do something!"
The shadow of the four-metre long flying shape was cold and lifeless as it slowly eclipsed the band of travellers. Tash did her best to play dead despite the sudden pounding headache. She moaned softly in reply to Victor, "I'm sorry, darling, I don't think I can do anything for a minute..."
In a blink of an eye, Darian was on his feet, abandoning the ‘dead’ position. *I’ve got to do something before it figures out what we’re doing,* he thought as he began to run into an adequate spot to execute his plan. Once he made it to a location that wasn’t directly under the huge flying contraption he bent low for an instant, and than sprang high into the air.
*Great plan Darian,* the fae thought to himself once he had landed atop the Monitor, *How am I supposed to get this behemoth down?* Darian started to pound frantically on the black exterior. Despite his superhuman strength, the beast did not seem to be the slightest bit damaged by the annoying gnat on its back.
Despite the size of the thing, Nikolai took a gamble that he knew one thing that might just get its attention. Once it had passed overhead he drew his pistol simultaneously with Reah, crouched up on one knee and took aim. Against a target of this size it wasn't likely to do anything more than serve as a light pat if anything. Still, it might just get its attention. Steadying his aim, he fired two rounds at the centre of the flying Monitor.
The Monitor’s alarms were rocketing through Tash’s head, but although they were much louder than Z’thrukaht’s messages they were also much simpler. Each call for help was accompanied by a string of numbers and letters, which she was slowly deciphering as its designation and location codes. “Maybe…” she muttered quietly to herself as she lay on the ground.
Overhead, the Monitor was beginning a barrel roll, trying to dislodge the biological unit on its back, meanwhile blaring its distress call throughout the thought net. The bullets zinging towards it were being repulsed by its forcefield, sending them flying in random directions. Ignoring the small missiles, it continued its barrel roll in an attempt to crush the organism that was irritating its shell.
Noting the little effect Nikolai's attack was making, Reah released the loaded clip and slammed in her explosive rounds. She fired a couple of shots in succession dead centre at the distressed target, though she knew well the effect would be minimal if anything at all.
On top of the Monitor, Darian was now crouching low, trying to keep his balance. *Bloody thing is going to try and smash me into the ground and…* his train of thought was instantly cut off by a whizzing bullet flying dangerously close to his figure, followed by a couple of blasts. *Idiotic Russian! I’d swear he is trying to hit me as much as he is this stupid monster,* he thought casting a quick grimace down below.
Reah caught Darian's eye with a slight smirk as she reholstered her pistol, winking when the realisation of where the explosive rounds had been discharged, flashed in his baleful eyes as she proceeded to loosen her sword in its sheath, waiting for a more opportune and effective moment.
Darian had no more time to give it any thought as his flying base came dangerously close to the ground. *Have to make sure I wait long enough so it doesn’t have time to turn back.* Staying poised till the very last second, Darian pushed off the Monitor seconds before it turned over completely and smashed into the ground. Unfortunately however, the fae had waited too long, and did not have good footing to perform a graceful landing. Although he fell clear of the Monitor, he tumbled painfully to the ground and rolled for several feet before finally coming to a stop.
Victor suddenly turned and bolted at a dead run towards Darian. His eyes flashed with red light as he brought his claws forward in a full on charge. Darian barely had time to roll into a defensive ball before Victor reached him and launched through the air over Darian's head and onto the side of the wallowing Monitor.
His claws gouged into the armored surface so similar to his own carapace. Victor climbed the behemoth. He turned back to the group from the top of it as the beast began to rise into the air once more. "Hurry," he shouted, "we may still have time to get on top!"
Alice rolled out from under some rocks on Victor’s command. She darted to the side of the beast and put her hands together, nodding to Tash and Nikolai, "I’m not going to stand here all day."
Nikolai used the proffered help to scramble aboard the creature, while Reah’s claws glinted in the diffuse G’rnathan light before she thrust them into the side of the Monitor as it began to rise into the air. Tash was looking a little dazed and distracted, still trying to decipher the Monitor’s thought patterns, but she shot Alice a smile of thanks as she used the leverage of her cupped hands to bounce onto its back. Victor and Nikolai both reached down to help her up, then the three of them turned to hoist Alice in the air.
“Hurry, Darian,” Tash called, noticing he was barely struggling to his feet some little distance away.
The Monitor was rising higher and Darian looked up, panic showing briefly in his eyes before it was replaced with determination. Although he was limping, he ran a few steps and launched himself at the now rapidly-rising Monitor, grunting with the effort of the 30-foot leap in his damaged state. His outstretched fingertips met two firm, grasping hands –- one belonging to Tash, the other to Nikolai. They dragged him the rest of the way where he lay, gasping his thanks.
Tash gripped tightly and concentrated on the patterns she had sensed from the leviathan. She tentatively sent out a tendril of thought, hoping to make initial contact and perhaps control this thing despite Z’thrukaht’s lack of support. Her brow furrowed in concentration. The Monitor was a simpler creature than the Creator - that was certain. But it also expected a particular type of contact. Still, Tash tried to reflect back what she’d received as its call sign.
The Monitor, meanwhile, was now rising steadily into the air. It was no longer sending its distress call out, having heard the soothing commands of a Creator. Tash felt the Monitor’s alarm ease and smiled in satisfaction.
That same Creator then blasted his way into Tash’s mind.
”You are most troublesome,” Z’thrukaht thought at her, ”You jeopardise the mission of the VTK unit by creating alarms on the MTR unit. Your blatant recklessness has caused suspicion among the Creators. I am not inclined to continue in this manner.”
"Fine," Tash muttered, "Don't continue then. We'll just bloody pack up and go home. Forget your damn mission." Her voice began to grow louder, "You need us you sanctimonious bastard, and if you'd listened to me earlier we'd have got this Monitor without alarms. You were so damn worried about being exposed; well you're damn well exposed now. You've got two choices. Kill us all - in which case no more mission, 'cause I guarantee Victor will do shit for you if we're dead - or actually help us for a change!" By the time she reached the end, she was practically shouting.
Victor's face couldn't grin but the mirth was clear in his voice, "You tell him, hon!"
Nikolai shook his head slowly. Obviously the Creator was objecting, once again, to the proposition of his exposure. "Tasha," he called out, loud enough to be heard, "Remind Comrade Creator that some level of risk is a part of any operation which has a chance at actually being successful." *Damn stupid aliens,* he thought to himself, probably louder than intended.
Z'thrukaht took over Tash's vocal chords without her permission as evidenced by her exasperated expression. "You biologicals need to understand one thing. I don't care for you or your existence. You are disposable and, frankly, a hazard to yourselves and the mission. If the VTK unit will not perform without your presence then perhaps I should consider the Unit flawed and therefore unsuitable to derive a template."
Nikolai was about ready to lose it. He didn't mind being called expendable; it was just the utter unwillingness of Z'thrukaht to understand even the most basic military tactics that was pissing him off.
"Comrade Creator," he said, raising his voice while trying to remain dignified, "You must realise that we are the best help of assuring your plan's success. How long did it take this unit to develop its function, and how can you be certain another will do so in the right time? By helping us, by taking a calculated risk to yourself you increase greatly the chance of the mission succeeding. Both our goals are served." Maybe, just maybe, the Creator would actually listen to reason. And hopefully Victor wouldn't snap at it again.
Z'thrukaht addressed Nikolai directly, "You are a subservient unit to the Tash biological. Your opinion is not required. Matters will not improve as long as you continue to act wilfully and counter to your own survival. Therefore it will become necessary to allow the Tash unit control of the MTR Unit. This will require training and further delays of the mission. You have forced this course of action and there are no alternatives. This is not satisfactory but it is now unavoidable."
"Unsatisfactory my arse," Reah muttered under her breath, cursing mentally with her irritation at the Mr. Johnson, *Even with the training, we just cut a shit load of time off travelling.*
Alice made a little sing-song, "Why yes we are very pleased with ourselves, thank you."
The G'rnathan sun burned red in the sky as the light faded below the horizon and the Monitor with its six passengers glided across the broken surface.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Day Three – G’rnatha
Early Morning
Nikolai woke up earlier than everyone else had in the morning, and wandered slightly off on his own to watch the horizon. Tash had shown a remarkable natural aptitude for controlling the Monitor, despite the concerns of the Creator that she wouldn’t be able to. They had made it a point late last night to stop for rest, since anyone sleeping on the back of the thing was liable to fall off. A quick swing by a nearby active steam vent had permitted them to finish collecting supplies before they found an old one suitable for camping. He suspected that food would be the same: steamed G’rnathan Battle Fiend, which he had finally reached the point of no longer having to chant *not a roach* to eat.
His thoughts turned to that Creator again. The arrogant, sanctimonious bastard was far worse than any of the moralists. Being called ‘expendable’ didn’t irk Nikolai; seeing it completely unwilling to lift a finger unless forced to did. Still, looking at the barren landscape reminded Nikolai of what a desolate place this was.
Tash stirred in her sleep and inhaled deeply as she opened her eyes. Blood-red light tinged the cave wall she was facing and she rolled over to see what had disturbed her. Victor was nowhere to be seen and the others were all still asleep, except for Nikolai who stood in the cave mouth gazing out at the sunrise. Sitting up, she lifted a precious container of water to her lips and sipped before she snagged a couple of pieces of steamed G’rnathan Battle Fiend and joined Nikolai.
“We seem to be the first up again,” she observed inanely as she held out the second piece of meat to him.
Nikolai gratefully accepted the steamed Battle Fiend, though he wondered just how long they could survive on a diet of only Battle Fiend. “Spaseba,” he said. The skies were burning again, though the sight was slightly less impressive and more normal at this point. “I swear, it’s like they went over this world with a fine tooth comb to ensure that nothing survived except themselves.”
Tash shivered, “What I’ve gathered from Victor is that that’s almost exactly what they did. The Creators started engineering Battle Fiends and Monitors hundreds of thousands of years ago, and used up most the resources of this planet doing so. What life remained was destroyed when the other Creators ousted Ghortab and there was a civil war between the Battle Fiends. Now the GBF’s basically go out to conquer other worlds to obtain more resources to make more GBF’s… It’s a vicious cycle.”
She scanned the horizon, looking for signs of Victor but finding none. All she could see was the Monitor resting just where she’d told it to the previous night – inert until it received a fresh command. Z’thrukaht had shown her how to access the control stream of the thought net, while he ensured that he was the only one who received the Monitor’s automatic reporting. Shutting that facility down would have been too risky, according to the Creator.
Finishing her scan to face Nikolai again, Tash shrugged, “It seems that Z’thrukaht is one of the more enlightened Creators. I’d hate to meet one of the old-school ones.”
"No doubt they would get along well with the Gitlerites," he replied, some of the accent slipping in again. He would have to watch that, he thought. Though ‘vicious cycle’ was right, and he figured that any race able to move between worlds would eventually have to engage in war, there only being a finite amount of resources available for consumption.
He turned to face her. "You understand with what I said yesterday, that I mean that only as a very last resort? Even when proposing it." It was about as close as he could actually come to an apology, and felt it needed to be said.
Tash stared frankly into Nikolai’s blue-streaked eyes – and frowned. His expression grew a little sad and she realised he thought she wasn’t going to forgive him. She smoothed the frown and said, “Yes, yes I do. Now. At the time it seemed you were proposing we do that from the get-go, but when we were discussing our options with the Monitor it was obvious you were willing to explore other options first.”
Her expression hardened again, “If it does get to the point where Z’thrukaht withholds vital aid from us then maybe we can use that threat. But I also meant what I said yesterday – I’d consider it a bluff only. I know you don’t, but for you to get to Victor you’d have to go through me first.”
What drew her attention, however, and had caused her initial frown, were his eyes. His brown irises were almost entirely obscured by solid pale blue, faint streaks of the bluish tinge fading in the whites. She lifted a hand slightly as if to touch the side of his face.
When her hand started up, his first thought was that she wanted to access his mind more directly - as though seeing her memories would help her understand him. Though she was wearing the gloves, he forgot she needed skin to skin contact.
“Don't," he said, catching her arm at the elbow, "You don't want my memories. You're too much an idealist to want to see humanity at its worst."
Tash had to switch off her hunter reflexes – for a moment as Nikolai grabbed her arm she was about to go into full combat mode. But for only a moment, then she shook her head as his words sank in. “No, Kolya, I wasn’t trying to access your memories. And you would be amazed at what I’ve seen – I seriously doubt that you’re humanity at its worst. You’ve got a long way to go to beat Ohenewaa…”
Nikolai was about to ask what she was talking about when he held up a hand to stop the explanation before it began. "Please, don't explain. I'm suffering from information overload as it is."
It gave him enough time to think, however, and to remember what she'd commented on the previous morning. His eyes had been changing colour. "Have they gotten worse?" he asked.
Pursing her lips, Tash nodded. “You could say that. The whites are almost white again, but the blue is all centred in your irises now. I can barely see any brown in there.” She looked at her arm, “And I don’t suppose you’d mind letting go?” she asked sweetly.
"Apologies," was his simple reply, releasing her arm before turning back to the horizon. This was certainly turning out to be a fun trip. A group of competent fighters (with one incompetent) stuck on an alien world, and he was turning into god knows what just from being on the planet. This was obviously not just a bad dream.
“Next thing you know, I'll be sprouting horns or wings!"
“Kolya,” Tash laid a hand lightly on his shoulder as she faced the horizon with him, “I can’t tell you it’ll be all right, because I don’t know that it will. But I can tell you that I’ll be here for you and I’ll do whatever is in my power to help.”
"Thank you." His eyes never left the view outside, even as he moved to sit down. It was almost automatic: waiting patiently, silently for the moment of action to come. In this case, it was wondering if the Creator would screw up and allow something else to fly by.
“You’re welcome,” Tash responded, remaining standing as Nikolai sat on the rocky ground. She glanced over her shoulder at the figures inside the cave, “But really it’s not just me being nice to you, although I am a nice person,” she grinned.
At Nikolai’s raised eyebrow she continued, “Look at us – six beings trapped on a hostile world facing a seemingly impossible mission in order to get back home. If we don’t all look out for each other, what chance do we have?”
Nikolai smiled at that. "You certainly do have the makings of a tactician about you - just what I would expect from a hunter."
Tash looked at the ground and then squatted next to Nikolai, to match eye-levels. “I was taught by one of the best,” she said quietly, her voice so soft that Nikolai had to strain to hear her, “I’ve been hunting vampires for fourteen years now. They’re fast, they’re strong, some of them are really smart. You don’t survive that long by being a fool.”
She paused a moment, reflecting on what she’d just said, “And last year when I was a fool, I had friends to help me out. Back when I’d been a loner, I would have just self-destructed after… well, let’s just say I had a lot to deal with last year.”
Nikolai could understand that a great deal. The life of an assassin was another field not conducive to making friends - and if you had a broader reach in operating area, to not having many to help you out.
"I spent over a decade on my own," he said at last, "You eventually get used to having to rely on yourself, and on the few occasions where there is someone else around, you almost always go your separate ways right away."
The two sat in companionable silence for a few moments. Besides Victor, with whom she’d shared her soul, and other vampire hunters like Sorrow and Reah, Tash rarely felt like anyone really understood what it meant to be a hunter. But this man - who until a couple of days ago had never had an inkling the supernatural even existed - this man understood her on a level few others did.
“We are very alike in many ways, Kolya. Vampires may not have existed in your world, but we have much in common.”
"I imagine that many of the same principles of the hunt must apply," he said, still honestly sceptical about the existence of vampires. While dimensional travel could possibly be explained by the laws of physics, vampires, as far as he knew, could not.
Tash looked askance at Nikolai. *Great, here I am getting all deep and meaningful and he wants to discuss tracking techniques,* she thought in disgust, *Maybe I was being premature in thinking he understands me?* She laughed softly and shook her head, refusing to explain the joke to Nikolai.
“I’m not sure about the specifics. I get the feeling your version is a little less down and dirty than mine. You can’t kill a vampire with a bullet from a high-powered rifle.”
"You probably could, with a large enough calibre," he half-joked. Then he turned reflective, as he considered what she had said. "But yes. It is a lonely existence, though things do not often end well. I got lucky to be able to 'retire' and know it. Criminals usually don't have pension plans without being elected to political office."
“Except you’re sick of retirement, aren’t you? Just the other day you were talking about starting up again. I really meant it when I said we could put your energies to use hunting demons and vamps, you know.” She held up a gloved hand, “Yes, yes, I know. ‘There’s no such thing as vampires.’ That’s ok. I’ll take you out with me when we get back and show you one up close and personal.”
"That sounds like an interesting proposition, though I may already have a hunting partner," Nikolai replied, his thoughts turning to Reah. Particularly her odd claws she had displayed the day before, and made a mental note to ask her about them. Even if he could understand Tash, there was a definite value gap between them. She simply wasn't a mercenary.
"Actually, I'm a little nervous about that. One of the only times I've ever worked with someone else was this job in Sicily.... wound up having to save him and eliminate the target." And what a string of invective had been unleashed after that mission!
“I’ve only worked with a partner a few times, but we are both vampire hunters so we seem to work well together. Usually I only manage three or four on a good night, but together Sorrow and I can take out quite a few more.”
Tash eyed Nikolai and spoke carefully, “I know you’re used to killing people, but if it’s the excitement you miss, I guarantee that vampires and demons will get your blood pumping. And you don’t have to worry so much about the moral ambiguity. Not all demons are bad, of course, but I’ve not met a good vampire yet.”
She paused for breath, then pressed on, "And if the excitement alone isn't enough, the Foundation would be more than willing to reward you handsomely for your services."
Nikolai snorted, "I don't think moral ambiguity is a problem. People tend to do what they want to do, I've noticed, and 'morals' are just a way to talk yourself out of it." The thought of money was certainly an attractive offer, though he had to wonder if there was still artistry or professionalism to be found in vampires and demons - or if it was just kill any you came across. He decided to ask Tash as much.
“Well, that very much depends on the hunter,” she replied. “Personally I like to keep it simple and straightforward. But I have my telepathy to help me determine who the vampires are – without that, you have to use guile to weed them out from normal humans. Act as bait on the streets, or hang out in the vampire haunts waiting to be picked up as food. The trick comes with actually killing them.
“They can only be destroyed by a wooden stake through the heart, by decapitation or by fire – but only if it consumes them utterly. I’ve seen vampires survive fire. They’re vulnerable to sunlight, crosses and holy water, but in their favour they’ve got superior speed and strength and natural weaponry. Vampires using guns is not unheard of, either. I’ve been stabbed and shot by vampires as many times as I’ve been bitten.”
She looked down at herself before meeting Nikolai’s gaze again, her expression sheepish. “I’d show you the scars as proof, but last year some weird interdimensional beastie ‘stole’ them in order to impersonate me… it’s a long story. Remind me to tell you about it later, maybe it’ll pass the time while we’re flying. Victor, Alice and Reah were there at the final battle with it.”
Nikolai smiled. They certainly sounded physically challenging, but it was not the thrill of combat he was missing. "In some ways, Tasha, we are more different than you realise," he said. "That wasn't exactly the artistry I was referring to. My usual prey required far different methods. A target usually had some form of security that had to be penetrated unobserved, sometimes by killing a guard and wearing whatever the standard uniform was. Not everyone knows each other by sight, thank God, and you can get around for a short time undetected that way. Actual elimination of the target with a minimal of peripheral kills, then escaping undetected. That's a real challenge."
Indeed, he had developed a great deal of pride in his work - so much so that he considered more than one or two peripheral kills sloppy. "In any event, I think that everyone else will be awakening soon. We'll have to discuss business if we get back to Earth."
“We shall,” Tash smiled, “Though to answer your point, I think you’ll find it just as much of a challenge to kill only the vampires and keep their human victims alive.”
She discarded the empty shell of the Battle Fiend she’d been munching on for breakfast and rose, dusting off the back of her jeans. Sounds of movement issued from within the cave, but Tash was busy gazing outward. “They’re waking up. It’ll be time to go before long – Victor had better get his arse back soon."
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
G’rnatha - Day Four
Early Morning
For once, Nikolai noted, he wasn’t the first one awake. And the other person awake with him wasn’t Tash. Spending time on this planet with its 30-hour days was definitely playing hell with his sleep cycle, among other things.
His eyes were still a matter of concern, and their changing nature. Nikolai moved as silently as possible to pick up one of the mirrors from the car to look into it. He stopped and stared. There was no hiding it now. While there was no more blue in the whites of his eyes, he was sure everyone else would notice. They were now a glowing soft, light blue.
Placing the mirror away, he decided to move outside of the steam vent for some privacy, try to think of how to explain this to the others. Which quickly made it apparent that he would not be accorded that luxury when he found that Reah was already awake, outside, and exercising. At the moment, she was engaging in sit-ups, and was able to notice him rather quickly.
“Z’dravichye,” he said. *I hope she doesn’t mention the eyes.*
"Hey blue eyes," Reah casually greeted him back as she rounded off her hundredth set and rolled over, straight into her push-ups. She had wondered about his eyes, but put it down to the blatant fact that they were in an alien dimension. Was probably some chemical reaction of a sort, but thought better than to press the matter: he was obviously already well aware of it, and likely didn't want to dwell on the matter. "Sleep well?"
“Believe it or not, hard rock beats soft snow any day,” he replied, only half-joking. He felt that he really had found a kindred spirit in the young blonde. She probably would have been one of the best in the business if she’d worked in the same area he had. “How about you?”
“Depends on how you look at it. In terms of peaceful?” She puffed in time with her mental counting, reaching twenty, “Exhaustion accompanied by a rock jabbing into your spine, numbing all feeling: babies don’t sleep this good.”
Grinning cynically, she transferred her weight onto one hand. “So, what has you up this early? Fresh air?”
"Truthfully, I was hoping to get time to think about how to explain these fucking eyes. Tasha's been a bit worried, and...." he stopped, aware that he didn't have to point out that they were now glowing.
Absently, he picked up a rock and chucked it out on the open plains. There was still something he'd been wondering about. "Reah, there's something I wanted to ask you about. You said that you knew what I was going through... what did you mean by that?"
Reah shrugged the shoulder of her free arm she’d slung behind her back, “I meant what I said! I knew what you were going through. But considering the fact that you don’t even believe in vampires, I doubt you’re ready to even begin contemplating that which is more commonly known as my complicated life.”
Nikolai laughed, despite himself. Trust another mercenary to regard life as complicated. Which it could get at times, depending on who hired you to do what and when. "Fair enough. Though I had also given thought to the idea of doing team work when we get back to Earth. Wanted to let you know that I would certainly be up to it." Whether or not vampires actually were real, which he was beginning to wonder if they were. Reah and Tash seemed so damned sincere about their existence.
Splitting her eyes away from the cracked ground to peer at Nikolai’s profiled face around the edge of her vision, she turning them away again just as subtly that he didn’t even notice, *It’s him all right.*
“Yes... partnership.” Reah sighed, shaking her head, “Of course, that, along with all other plans we may have, will be put off until we get back.”
Lowering herself out of her last set she straightened up, dusting the grime off her hands, and proceeded to kick her leg up and hold it stretched in a perfect vertical line. “It’ll be good once I get back into regular business again.”
"That it will. Life has been far too boring the past few years." No matter how many guys he knew would think of her current stretch as a good shot to admire a woman, he had to inwardly wince. That had to hurt. “What did you usually do? Most of my work has been simple assassination - usually involving infiltration of well-protected targets.”
Also usually involving just humans, although… he did remember one guy who he shot and got right back up. Maybe he wasn’t really wearing a bullet proof vest? What if he actually had encountered a vampire?
“Along those lines, I suppose you could’ve considered me as a mercenary, slash assassin. Really depended on what the job involved,” she said, then slowly lowered her leg without even the slightest waver and alternated it with her other, “As far as my day job goes, when I’m not playing dead I’m an arms dealer. But I’ve already told you that, I’m sure.” A wicked smirk unveiled itself as she made note of his cringing, and increased it by pushing her leg to its limit, past 180 degrees.
“Ouch,” he finally said out loud at Reah’s stretching. He half expected her leg to simply snap at the sheer amount of stretching that had to be done to bend that far. Nikolai turned his mind towards logistics, working out the situation.
There was someone else who might be interested. “You know, I should check with one of my friends when we get back - he might be willing to work with us. Though he does have a bad temper.”
“Is he a vain Minotaur that’s had one too many dints put in his armoured monster truck?”
"No, he's human," he said, wondering at just who she had to know. "Maybe you met him - everyone calls him Trigger. Ah, yes, and Tasha is making an offer for the Foundation to pay us for eliminating vampires and demons."
Reah smiled, lowering her leg again, “Well, welcome to the frontline. It’s supposed to be good when your job is also your hobby. I guess I can count myself lucky. As you may have noticed, I’m literally made for my job in more ways than one.” At Nikolai’s expression, she quirked her head considering, “Or perhaps you were too distracted to notice what I’m actually referring to. Oh well!”
After casually walking over to her propped up sword, Reah returned and commenced running through some forms, starting with the basics. “So what’s you’re weapon or method of choice?”
Nikolai was extremely impressed with the sword motions - something he would probably have to learn to use at some point, he figured. "It varies, actually. Knives, scoped rifles... my first job I used cyanide laced medical supplies. Though the most brutal was this guy in Uzbekistan - he actually wanted this one bastard ground up into hamburger and fed to his dogs."
Reah chuckled softly in her throat, “Some beings do like a thorough job done, don’t they?” she said more as a passing comment than question, “And others are just plain bastards. I can think of tons of examples.
“This one guy,” Reah started to explain, “was a good friend of one of my team-mates. We heard he’d been murdered and went around to investigate. It was an assassination job taken out while he was… on the internet.” She paused momentarily, careful not to say ‘jacked into the matrix’, though certain points of how he was killed had to be side-stepped around so they sounded like they were carried out physically, rather than it actually being lethal virus in the matrix that was projected at him through his physical connection.
“He was trying to hack into some corps mainframe. Needless to say, when we walked into his study, the air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh. You couldn’t really tell it was him; he looked perfectly fine, physically, aside from the expression of mortal torment twisting his features. It was when we went up closer to him and touched his skin…” She thought for a moment, but not emotionally, or in any way disturbed; she was just trying to think of the best analogy, “Have you ever toasted marshmallows on a stick?”
Nikolai nodded silently. It sounded neither pleasant nor enjoyable, not to mention very painful to boot. Burned alive. "There are some ways nobody should have to die," he said lightly. Not, he figured, without some form of retribution being taken.
“Of course, in our industry, it’s not half unexpected that we’ll be killed. The main drive that really got to us was more the fact that it was carried out in his home study while his wife and eight year old daughter were at home. He couldn’t scream though, not in his state. It was his daughter bringing him a cup of tea that discovered him first, and went running to her mum.”
Reah shook her head, then smiled wickedly, “We got our own back though. We traced all the leads we could find then chased it all the way back to the source, finding another couple of corpses like our friend along the way.” She manoeuvred about with her sword, accentuating points.
“We basically cleaned the place out with a full artillery of slice and dice, mini-guns, grenade launchers, just about anything we could get our hands on, eventually blowing the entire place to hell.” *With a satellite strike,* she smirked inwardly.
“But before we did that, we hunted down the man who ordered the assassination on our friend, crucified him, injected some Fireleshin666 directly into his heart, waited around thirty seconds, then spun him upside-down.” At Nikolai’s curious expression, she explained, “Fireleshin666 was basically a special substance my team and I had specially created for the occasion. It was a lethal combination of some poison and a corrosive acid, designed in such a way that’d draw out the death for at least ten minutes.” She paused thoughtfully, blissful satisfaction soothing her expression, “Its first trial proved most successful.”
Nikolai's eyes went wide at that, partly in shock - though he found himself sympathising more with Reah's team. The man had arranged for large numbers of people to suffer a horrible death by burning. He deserved to suffer. "And I thought Trigger had a temper," he said.
Reah was many things, he decided: cute, dangerous, and someone you definitely did not want pissed off at you. The next thing he knew, he was swapping stories of old times with the woman as though they had known each other for a long time.
“You wouldn’t believe Trigger,” he was saying, “The man is famous for his temper - he’s shot people for bringing him the wrong drink on a day when he’s really pissed off. Anyway, it was some time in July of 2000, one of our last jobs together before I retired.
“We were up in New York, and Trigger might have had a temper but he always had a soft spot for the ladies. Well, we’re meeting with this drug dealer out of Harlem who does a little pimping on the side and one of his girls was there. She was all cut up, obviously by him since the blood was still fresh.
“Trigger takes one look at this guy, the razor in his hand, and blows his kneecaps out. Right on the spot, doesn’t even want to hear about the job any more. That followed by picking up a baseball bat to put him in the hospital a month, and tells the guy when it’s over, ‘You fucking asshole, you do that to another woman again, I’m going to fucking blow your brains out’.”
Nikolai got lost in the thought of what had happened next. He was almost afraid of what Trigger would have done had the girl been younger than she was. “This hooker is sitting there beaming at him like he’s a some kind of Holy Knight, till the pimp went for a gun. Then Trigger emptied the clip into his belly and let him bleed out. It was gruesome.”
Reah nodded, “It gets a bit like that sometimes. But,” she shrugged, “’tis all part of the job. I’d have to say the most interesting point is when you are that one bleeding uncontrollably on the ground, struggling for consciousness while battle continues to rage overhead.
“Before you know it you’re discussing rum balls with Death as he guides you towards your fate. Then out of the blue, you thank him for the pleasant conversation, turn about, and head back to your now pain-freed body.”
"Thankfully, that is a position I've not had to be in," Nikolai said. There were a few close calls, even a few times shot, but no seeing of light and hearing dead relatives beckon. Reah had an 'uh oh' expression on her face, looking at someone behind them.
He turned to face the newcomer, turning those glowing blue eyes to face him directly.
Reah grinned, rounding off her last form, she hailed the newcomer, "Hey Darian. How’s life?”
"We were just talking about old times back on Earth," Nikolai said. "Care to join us, tovarisch?"
A stern disapproving grimace flashed upon the fae's visage. Although Darian wasn't one to usually judge people, he could not help but finding himself disliking Reah and Nikolai - a feeling that just grew after overhearing their conversation.
“My life story would be really interesting. I'm afraid I can’t swap murder stories like the two of you," he replied coldly as he began to walk away.
“Murder stories?” Reah cut in, halting his departure, “Excuse me, but I’m no murderer, despite what you may think,” she said, stating matter-of factly.
"Murder implies that you're killing an innocent person," Nikolai added in her further defence.
Darian stopped and turned to face Reah and Nikolai. "And I suppose you two are capable of judging who is innocent and who isn’t? How fucking arrogant is that?" Once again, Darian turned to leave, disgusted that the two would even try and defend their past lines of work.
Nikolai shook his head slowly. "And I suppose that the drug dealer who sells to children, or someone who has people burned alive are saints who must be protected at all costs." Even Tash hadn't been quite so blunt with her disapproval of his work. She, at least, was willing to allow that they followed their own peculiar brand of morality, grounded in the reality of the streets.
Once again Darian's stride came to a halt as he turned to address the Russian. "Those people commit human crimes, and should be punished by man's law. It is not up to you to become executioner."
“…And the world will be a better place, blah di blah blah blah!” Reah stared blatantly unimpressed at Darian and his irritating morals of purity. “Don’t think that I do what I do because I’m taking the law into my own hands, because I’m not! Whether you like it or not, people are going to be their own downfall. They are their own executioners. It was, after all, a bunch of people who got together to write up the law, taking it upon themselves to decide the fate of others based on the actions that they make in accordance to what they decided was right. Do you think that the people who uphold these laws aren’t manipulating events from behind drawn curtains?
“You live in some fairy tale land where bad people who do bad things will be punished and the good people will be able to continue being good without fear. News flash pretty boy: the world’s not black and white, there is no such thing as a good person or a bad person, only good deeds and bad deeds. And even that’s based on a matter of opinion.”
"You know what, you're right," the 'pretty boy' snapped back. "Just because there are a few corrupt people in power, we might as well all become vigilantes. No matter how you justify it to yourselves, human life is sacred and there is no excuse for intentionally taking it away."
"Oh please," Nikolai said, feeling a bit disgusted, though he'd had the 'human life is sacred' discussion before. "It's not just the people in power. Everyone is corrupt and decent people are an extremely rare thing. Most people, the only thing that stops them from acting on their regular impulses is fear of being caught. Without that fear, we'd pretty much all be bastards, because that's the way humanity is hardwired.”
“We are the people that they hire to take care of their own dirty work,” Reah continued the lecture, “If we weren't here, THEY would be doing it instead. And in some situations, they do!”
She paused dramatically, inclining her head towards Darian, “Ever heard of the death sentence?”
Darian just stood for a second stunned that she could compare the death sentence to assassinations. "I've been around longer than both of you combined, and you're right, the world isn’t some fairy tale land; but it’s also not some dead world like this one. If you can’t find the good in it and its people than I pity both of you." And with that, the fae turned to leave for the third time since the argument started.
“Funny that, because pity is for the weak.” Reah’s eyes gazed dispassionately at his retreating back, her last thoughts flowing over her lips, “I believe it is I who pities you.”
"Yes, it is rather delusional to suggest that there is much good to be found," Nikolai added, growing even more tired of Darian now. He just had to moralistic as well as incompetent!
Reah sniffed, muttering low under her breath, "It's nearly a shame your bullet didn't miss the monitor, Nik."
Reah's last comment was too much for even Darian to ignore. Furiously he whirled around and flashed the blonde haired woman a dangerous look. The fae's eyes began to shimmer and darken, the usual light purple hue being replaced with an almost black/indigo mix.
"You should really be careful who you mouth off to girl," he warned. What was more shocking than his sudden outburst of aggression however, was the fact that his voice had a sinister echo to it, as if someone else was speaking the words at the same time.
Nikolai found the eye colour change and deepening of Darian's voice to be a bit surprising. What the hell was up with this guy? "That reminds me, I wanted to ask you about those," Nikolai said, at seeing Reah’s claws.
He turned back to Darian, "As for you, Reah's worth more to us alive than you are. Try anything, I will shoot you without a second thought."
An unnatural wind began to blow fiercely from behind the fae as his eyes blackened more, and his voice became increasingly serpentine. "Bring it on, human."
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Day Four – G’rnatha
Morning
Hordes of Battle Fiends were tearing at her, trying to keep her from getting to Victor. She could hear him calling her name, but was unable to reach him. Frantically she struggled against the tide of grasping limbs that held her.
The Battle Fiends disappeared, but she was still unable to move. Nikolai’s face wavered in front of her, saying, “But they deserved to die, Tasha. It was my job and they were weak. Survival of the strongest, you know…”
Reah and Darian joined Nikolai, and they were all singing “Happy Birthday” to her, but then started arguing over who was going to give her the birthday present they’d got together. The brightly-wrapped box flew across the room and into the wall where it shattered in tiny glass fragments while her three friends stood face to face shouting at each other…
Opening her eyes, Tash rolled over to shake off the disturbing dream images. But in her head she felt that argument was still raging. Puzzled, she stumbled to her feet and noticed that Victor was deep in the recesses of the cave, brooding, and Alice was only just beginning to stir from her own slumber. The others were missing.
With a sense of foreboding Tash peered out of the cave and was met with a tableau distressingly similar to that in her dream. Except there was no birthday present, she noted.
Reah and Nikolai were turned mostly away from her, but it was obvious they were glaring at Darian, who glared right back with dark fury in his eyes. Reah’s claws were unsheathed and Nikolai’s hand hovered over his gun. Darian’s fists were clenched and his jaw set. Tash knew both Nikolai and Reah thought he was useless, but she’d fought Darian and knew better.
Putting on a false cheery voice, as though she were seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she called out, “Good morning! How is everyone this fine G’rnathan day?”
Reah's stare lay stone cold on Darian as she spared the slightest reply to Tash's approach, "Well, I'm positively peachy! Darian, on the other hand, has broken a nail and discovered a split end," she shrugged, "That, or his pretty features are something else and he really has PMS."
An observer may have thought that Tash’s arrival went unnoticed to the fae since his body did not move an inch from its defensive position. However, for a brief instant the dark pools of anger that were now his eyes roamed slightly to cast her a menacing ‘don’t get involved’ glance, before setting them back on Nikolai and Reah. As Darian stood unmoving, the fierce breeze that had strangely appeared was growing increasingly wilder. What was really bizarre was that the strange wind seemed to carry with it a very faint and odd voice. Hayaasss raathhhalaaaa.
Tash approached the trio slowly, the nape of her neck prickling at the overflow of energy from Darian. Keeping her eyes on him alone she spoke softly, “Reah, Kolya, why don’t you put away the aggressive postures and back off a little? I’m sure whatever you’ve been arguing about is not worth getting into a brawl over. Have you already forgotten where we are and what we’re up against? We all need each other here.
“As for you, Darian, whatever the provocation, I thought you knew better than to listen to,” she gave him a meaningful look, “what others might whisper to you. Get control of yourself.”
"She's right, Darian," Reah's tone suddenly became agreeable to Tash's advice, while her gaze continued to remain cold, "Besides, is there supposed to be some rank smell accompanying your wind? Cos so far it doesn't appear to be doing much beyond 'blowing'."
Darian remained stationary, his coldly dark eyes boring into Reah’s. Tash had reached the three by now, and reached to gently enclose one of Reah’s wrists. Beyond Reah Nikolai stood fuming. His blue eyes were now glowing, Tash noted briefly before focusing on the more immediate problem.
“Reah,” she said quietly but with an undertone of menace, “I said to back off. Retract those things,” she waggled the wrist she was holding, Reah’s claws extending beyond her fingertips.
Although Darian was now over her right shoulder, Tash could still feel the peril in those deep black eyes. Growing ever more furious but not wanting to have the situation escalate further, Tash continued to speak in a low, tightly controlled voice.
“I know neither of you think much of Darian, but trust me he’s handy in a fight. We need each other here and what we don’t need is for you two to gang up on someone and start petty squabbles. So button that lip, Reah, and give Darian some space before he gets nasty.”
Reah opened her mouth but Tash interrupted, “I don’t care who started it. Be woman enough to stop it.”
Sighing in resignation, Reah turned apologetic eyes to Tash and retracted her blades, “Sorry, I know.”
Peeling her eyes away, she gently pulled out of the other woman’s grasp, and casually made her way back towards the cave, sparing a brief glance at Darian as she slowly approached to pass by him, “It just really gets on my nerves, sometimes when people make certain assumptions about me.”
The darkness in the fae’s eyes began to lighten slightly as the wind simply vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “St… stt... stop,” Darian struggled to mumble as his face winced in pain. Although Tash, Reah and Nikolai could not see it, inside Darian was fighting for control of his body.
“Ahhhhhh,” he cried out again, his face contorted as he dropped to his knees, his hands shooting up to squeeze his temples. A second later the pain stopped and Darian was once again in the driver’s seat. “I… I…” he muttered, as if thinking what to say.
“I’ve got to be alone now,” was all he could manage before he ran off away from the cave’s entrance.
Nikolai looked more than a bit shocked at what had transpired and muttered something in Russian to the effect of him being both mentally unstable and in all probability a liability. Still, he had to wonder if Darian was all right or getting ready to go completely bonkers.
Tash rounded on him, taking in Reah as well. “You fools!” she hissed, then pointed at Nikolai’s eyes, “You think you’re the only one affected by being here?”
She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Darian’s already distant form, “He’s half-fae, but not in the normal sense. His soul was bound with that of a dark fae, giving him the powers but leaving his human side in control. Something about coming through the portal has weakened his dominance of the fae’s personality. That wasn’t Darian you were talking to just now.
“I don’t know what you were arguing about and I don’t care. Keep the snide comments to yourselves. Even if Darian wasn’t struggling with possession, he’s not the incompetent weakling you seem to think he is. I can’t believe he’s put up with you two for so long already. We are stuck on this benighted planet and unless we all work together we may wind up staying here for the rest of our lives. I, for one, don’t intend to live out my life in a goddam cave!”
Reah’s eyes lingered after the departed fae, only worry creasing her forehead now, the confusion since been lifted.
“Well perhaps,” she hissed lowly, gradually craning her neck around to gaze back at Tash’s ‘motherly stern’ expression, “he should have informed us of it! I, also do not plan on living here for the rest of my life. I don‘t want to have friction within the group any more than you do.” *Bloody hell. If there's one thing I hate more, it's being told off for something I wasn't even bloody aware of!*
*This just keeps getting better and better,* Nikolai thought to himself, though his own anger had hardly subsided. Even if Darian was less incompetent than he initially thought, and was struggling to remain sane, there were certain things he was not prepared to take. One of them was someone getting morally judgmental in a world where there quite frankly was no justice.
Nikolai turned those glowing eyes towards Tash, hoping that they would prove at least mildly useful in driving home the point. “Nor I, but I will not sit idly by while a ZanOHshiveye marahlist tries to lecture me on morality.” From the scorn he heaped into that word, he clearly believed that there was no such creature. It really was, as Reah had suggested, all relative.
He held up a hand to cut Tash off. “Nyet. Reah is right, that this is information which it would have been very prudent to share. I will work with him, but this does not mean I must be fond of him, or treat him like a newborn baby. Do you think that I don’t know what it will take to survive here? I am ignorant of certain things, but not stupid.
“And it was Darian who started it, with his moralizing. Before you start assigning blame and lecturing us, remember that you yourself have known about this. He did not tell us, you did not tell us. A prudent man does not push back hard at someone when he actually knows the man is a schizophrenic. Give us blame if you like, but realize that he is at fault as well.”
Tash sighed and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, as if staving off a headache. “No, I’m not assigning blame. And I didn’t tell anyone about Darian because he asked me not to, though I warned him I’d keep an eye on him and would if things got worse. Well, they have so I’m telling you now.”
Her eyes bored into Nikolai’s, unflinching, “And I would have thought that since you aren’t stupid that you would not have let that argument escalate the way it did, whatever the provocation. So far as I’m concerned, all three of you are to blame in that fiasco I just witnessed.”
"I never denied my role in what happened," he replied steadily, not removing his gaze from hers. "In the future, I will keep that in mind. Just do not expect me to like him."
“You don't have to like him. Just don't bait each other any more. Please?"
Tash looked over her shoulder. Darian was nowhere in sight. "And don't think I won't be having a long talk with Darian, either. I've got words to say to him and all."
"No problems here!" Reah declared, gesturing openly with her hands before letting them drop to her sides, "I don't even have a problem with making a friend of him! He just needs to make sure he doesn't go around being a sticky beak, then butt in and accuse me of being a murderer." She shook her head regretfully that they'd been banished into the wasteland with such a high believing moralist, "But I am sorry." *Maybe if he didn't sleep three quarters of the day away and would at least talk to us he mightn't be so irritable.*
Tash looked sharply at Nikolai, then back at Reah. “Accused of being a murderer? Let me guess, then – you were talking shop? And he overheard and talked about how wrong it is to kill people in cold blood, etcetera. Kolya, we ourselves have had that conversation and it never came to blows.” Tash sighed, “Though I suppose at least I never called you a murderer.”
She could see from their reactions that she was right. “Ok, so he doesn’t think much of what you do, and you don’t think much of his moral stance. Fine. Once we’re back on Earth you guys can duke it out to your heart’s content. And I know neither of you will let him get to you again like this – his comments caught you off-guard, yes? Next time you’ll be prepared. But I’ll do my best to make sure he understands there will be no next time.”
Reah nodded her thanks to Tash and reclaimed her sword, preciously laid on the ground when Darian had first approached. "Sorry to put you out like this, Tash. Especially so early in the morning... On Grr'land."
She sniffed, a slightly amused smirk smothering her face. "I feel like I should call you Mum or something," she added, chuckling lightly.
"Or the Lady Jessica, Bene Gesserit Witch," Nikolai could not resist joking. Not with Dune eyes, which by all rights would probably get a more SF oriented friend calling him Muad'dib, "But thank you."
Tash chuckled, “Don’t call me that - between your eyes and the scarcity of water, this planet is too much like Dune as it is. You might jinx it and we’ll find spice worms too.” Her expression sobered and she inclined her head to Reah, acknowledging what she’d said, “But I’m sorry I had to be Mum here. Come, you guys go inside and get breakfast. I’ll see if I can’t find Darian.”
Reah chuckled, playing along, she then moaned and dragged her feet, "Yeeees Muuuum!"
Smiling one last time at Tash as the woman caught up and overtook her, she then turned towards Nikolai, inclining her head, “I have to ask: Could you teach me some Russian? Might come in handy one day.”
Nikolai smiled. That would come in handy, especially if they were working together - he liked having more than one language to be able to converse in with someone he worked with. "Da. Though you'll have to tell me about those claws of yours at some point."
Tash watched the two re-enter the cave and smiled tightly. At least things hadn't ended too badly. Except...
She turned her back to the cave and cast out her senses in the direction Darian had disappeared. "Damn him," she muttered to herself, "I bloody well should have made him talk to Alice right at the start." Growling under her breath she set off, hoping to catch him quickly.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Day Four - G'rnatha
Morning
The rocky ground shifted underfoot, wisps of fog curling around Tash’s feet as she picked her way carefully through the treacherous terrain. As she passed the inert Monitor she shivered. Despite the day and a half they’d spent sprawled on the creature’s back it still gave her the creeps. Maybe that was because when she was in contact with it via the thought net she had a very clear idea of just how lethal it could be.
Thoughts of the Monitor quickly fled, however, as she picked up a trace of the essence she was searching for. Darian must have found a place to hole up, she reasoned, for it grew stronger the further from the cave she walked. Sure enough, rounding a clump of boulders nestled against a crag she found Darian on the far side. He was sitting on a flattish rock, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around himself. Tash wasn’t sure if he heard her approach, for if he did he gave no sign of it.
She gently cleared her throat, “Ahem, Darian. How you doing?”
"I don’t know, I don’t know..." he replied after a moment, as much to himself as it was to Tash.
Tash sighed inwardly. *This could be a looong session,* she thought. Hunkering down next to the stricken fae, she tried something simpler.
"Is Evexus gone?" She could tell from his aura that the dark fae was once more buried beneath layers of Darian, but how deeply she couldn't tell. Not without doing something invasive, anyway.
"I think so," he replied quietly, barely above a whisper, "I know how it happened. I mean, one minute I overheard Nikolai and Reah talking about something I didn’t agree with, and the next minute something inside me was urging me to pick a fight with them. I guess I didn’t realize what was going on before it was too late."
He sighed, drawing his legs in closer, "Had you not come when you did, who knows what could have happened."
Tash’s frustration at the whole situation still bubbled under the surface, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “So maybe now you’ll agree that you should make your circumstances known to everyone else? It’s still possible that Alice might be able to help you.”
Darian looked up at Tash with an expression of fear in his eyes. However, as much as he didn’t want to upset people more than they already were, he knew the time had come to let the cat out of the bag. "Yeah, I think now is about time to tell people," he said.
There was an awkward moment of silence between the two before Darian spoke up once again. "What if I... What if I can’t control him even with Alice's magic? Maybe it’s just safer if I leave you guys and try and find my own way home. I can’t put all of you at risk 24/7."
Tash’s steely gaze met Darian’s fearful one, “Two things, Darian. One – Yes, it’s bloody high time you told the rest. I was a fool for agreeing to keep it secret for you in the first place. We’re just lucky that it stopped at a mere argument and ruffled feathers.
“Two – Until we try, we’ll have no idea how much Alice can help, or whether there are other resources available. I never give up without at least trying, and as for you going off alone, I’m damned if I’m going to go home with fewer than six people. We came with six, we’re damn well going home with six. Clear?”
Darian's expression brightened slightly. He couldn’t help but feel an amazing amount of respect and admiration for this woman who was practically single handedly keeping their group together. "I’m clear." As he stood up to leave, he turned to gaze in the direction of the cave. "I guess I’d better apologize to Reah and Nikolai for what I said. I’m in no position to judge anyone."
“None of us are. Not you, and not them either,” Tash replied softly, helping Darian to his feet, “I don’t expect the three of you will become bosom buddies, but they’re also aware that they pushed the situation. I do expect that they’ll accept your apology gracefully.”
She squeezed his hand and smiled ruefully, “I’m glad you were able to regain control – I didn’t want to have to hurt you. But I’m sure you’re aware that I will if I have to. Let’s just hope that we can push Evexus back where he belongs before he does any more damage.”
"Yeah," the fae replied, "And if Alice’s magic doesn’t work, we can always count on Nikolai or Reah to shoot me dead," he said winking.
Tash’s laughter pealed out over the wasteland, “No, if you pull something like that again I’ll shoot you myself.”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Day Four - G'rnatha
Morning
Darian walked quietly into the mouth of the cave where the rest of the rag tag team were resting. After what had happened, he knew that everyone would have to know about what he was fighting inside and there was no point hiding away out of embarrassment. However, he also had something else on his mind - Reah and Nikolai. Tash was right in saying that everyone needed to stick together, and up to this point Darian hadn't made a great effort to be friendly with them. Taking a deep breath, Darian walked towards the two who were sitting together, Nikolai trying to teach Reah alittle Russian.
"Hey, I don't wanna interrupt or anything," he started, his voice rather timid, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened earlier. I shouldn't have said what I did. Lord knows I've done enough things in my life that would strike me from being a saint."
Nikolai looked up from his Battle Roach as he came to think of it, towards the fae. Or... whatever. He was giving up on supernatural classifications, and let out a small bit of Russian before switching to English. "A proverb - 'The sun will shine into our yard too.' Apolpgy accepted, though I should probably not have been quite so... forceful."
Reah craned her neck so she could peer up at Darian from where she sat, and smiled comfortingly, “Yeah, look, don’t worry about it too much. I think we all possibly just went a tad overboard. Just a tad.” She grinned, squinting on her sarcastic emphasis, before adding more genuinely, “We’re supposed to be a team right?”
"Supposedly," Darian answered back with a smile.
After a moment, however, his joyous exterior faded into somewhat of a saddened expression. "I also have to tell you guys something. I don't know if Tash told you, but," he paused a moment, "Well I'm not sure how to explain this."
Reah held up her hand to stop him, shrugging in visual acceptance of what she knew. “Darian, don’t worry. You wouldn’t be the first person I know who’s possessed,” she stated openly, sparing him a wink.
Darian stood still for a moment, then opened his mouth to reply only to be cut off, “And before you say anything, it wasn’t that hard to figure out. If the voice wasn’t a dead giveaway, the fact you were channelling magics was. Remember? I asked you the first day here, and you said you could only sense magic. Not work it.” She smiled.
"Oh right. Well then, I guess all that's left to say is if ever anything happens to me and I get all... well you know, evil, you guys have to stop me before it's too late. If ever the fae inside takes total control, I don't know if you guys could stop him."
Reah chuckled, giving him a confident smirk as she nodded her assurance, "We'll survive, I'm sure. I've also faced many a possesive spirit."
I just hope you're right," Darian said. Realizing that it was the best place to end the conversation, Darian excused himself, and Reah and Nikolai went back to practicing Russian. *I really hope she is right.*
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Day Four - G'rnatha
Afternoon
Alice sat on the flying whale carefully adding dot after dot of her dry ink, a powder made up of the flare and some local crushed rocks. Alice's hand adjusted for each of Tash's attempts to control the beast. Slowly her tattoo began to take shape.
"Hey Alice," Darian said above the violent sound of the wind. Carefully making his way over, Darian took a seat next to Alice. "I've got a problem I was hoping you could help me with."
*****
Day Four - G'rnatha
Late Evening
Darian rested on his stomach as he patiently waited for Alice to start the magic they hoped would lock away Evexus once again. Although the stone of the ground was cold against his topless stomach, Darian's forehead was sweating. "Let's just hope all goes well," he said with a smile in an attempt to cover up his anxiety.
Alice painted the mixture she made at Darian's request. "I’m not too sure how well this will work.”
Alice’s fingers continued to gently trace the rune across Darian’s strong back. "Mmm. You know hun, this might need redoing. I don't have all the stuff I need here, but if you're ever in my neighborhood, I’ve got a soft bed where we can do this in comfort."
"Uhhh, how long does the magic take before it starts activating?" he replied, trying to ignore the woman's indiscreet comment.
Alice leaned close almost on his back. Her hands slid down to Darian’s sides. She spoke softly, "Close your eyes."
Alice whispered some arcane words Darian didn’t understand, and then a sharp pain filled his back; like someone had set him on fire. She then placed her hand on the back of his neck and held him down as his powerful body jumped and twisted to free itself.
Instantly, his eyes dulled back to the eerie blackish colour and his agonized cries were replaced with a high pitched unworldly shrieking. "You stupid witch! HOW DARE YOU!" Although the words fell from his lips, the voice was not Darian's.
"You will pay for this!" he howled as he managed to break free of Alice's grip, turned onto his back, and violently threw her off. The fae struggled for a moment, but finally managed to get to his feet.
"You dare to try and lock us away again?" the voice threatened.
However, a moment later, his hate-filled face was replaced with one full of pain and the voice was once again his. "AhhhhhHHHH!!!" he screamed, falling to one knee.
"Stupid, wretched, sniveling BITCH," he barked, the serpentine speaker once again returning.
From a corner of the cave Tash was watching the proceedings with concern for the safety of her friends. Alice had told everyone not to interrupt her work, but at Darian's violent struggles with Evexus she lunged forward instinctively to help.
Alice looked up gratefully. "Grab a leg," she ordered.
Tash obliged, throwing herself across the half-kneeling fae and forcing his legs flat. Alice caught Darian's shoulders and together they wrestled the alternately resisting and whimpering man to the ground.
"Get your filthy hands off us, humans!" the faery hissed as he thrashed about trying to free himself again.
"NO! I'm not going to let you hurt anyone!" Darian's voice returned, through gasps of air, "Ahhh, oh God it burns!" His whole body was now sweating and trembling uncontrollably under the combined pressure of the spell and resisting the monster inside.
"All right. Now out with the bad air," Alice said, touching the rune with her palm. Darian's skin began to darken as a shadow slowly made its way to the rune, turning it black.
A kind of quiet peace moved over Darian’s face as he passed out. Alice and Tash released their captive and got off.
"Will he be ok?" Tash asked.
"For now."
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Thursday, 3 August 2006
Bob’s Bar
9:27pm
The fun thing, Damen decided, was not trying to find out what had happened to Nikolai. It was trying to decide what story to believe. In a world where the word on the street was one of the few things solid, the word was clear: we don’t have a clue what happened on the 16th of July.
Only half the people actually claimed that outright, but there were a few consistencies. A stone circle sat in a parking lot. A very impressive lightshow ensued, leaving no trace of anyone caught inside the circle – a circle which now left a ‘hole’ in the ground of sorts. Aside from that, the stories were all wildly conflicting and speculative. Though a couple of promises of money should hopefully let him know if Nikolai showed up. Hopefully before the other did.
So he shifted tactics.
Even if he couldn’t find out what happened to Nikolai, he could at least try to find out exactly who wanted to whack him. And how. All he knew so far was that the person supposed to kill Nikolai was rumoured to be a ghost.
Which lead to the current situation, where the man known as Bob the Snitch was looking quite nervous. He’d gotten used to a number of people who came in looking for information to do more than just ask. “Yeah, what can I get you?” he’d asked when Damen showed up.
Damen leaned on the side of the bar, ordering a shot of whiskey before he started. “Some information as well. You ever hear the name Makarov?”
“That depends, should I have?” Bob asked, hoping that this didn’t go where he thought it was, “My memory is a little fuzzy.”
Damen sighed and withdrew two twenty dollar bills. They deftly disappeared from the table when his drink was delivered. “Who’s got the contract on him?” he asked.
“Makarov, Makarov,” Bob mused in thought. $40 was not quite the amount that he was looking for to give that piece of information. “Yeah, I think I heard something. It’s starting to come back to me.”
“Look, you’re a snitch, you either heard something or know someone who did.” Damen was in no mood to mess around, then settled himself down. No. That was not the way things were done where he came from, even with his temper. A fifty vanished from the table this time.
Bob mentioned a name.
“Yeah, pal, I already know who put the fucking contract out on his life!” he snapped. Now Damen was upset. “Did I miss a fucking meeting on snitches or something? This is how it works: I ask a question, you say something about maybe hearing something but your memory ain’t good. I put down money until your memory clears up, and you spill on what I ask you, ok?”
“All right, all right, geez,” Bob replied, but rather relieved that fists were not yet flying. “Look, I’ll level with you. I haven’t got a clue who took the contract. Your man is keeping that under tight wraps.”
Damen nodded. That made sense, if the person hired to do the job was actually alive, but didn’t want anyone to know. It was the perfect deal: eliminate this person, and I’ll make sure they still think you’re dead. Which would probably result in the contract holder making his hireling into a real ghost.
“Ok then, Bobby boy. Who does know?” Bob remained silent. “Look, pal. There are what, three, four total joints like this in the city?”
“I think I may be the last one,” Bob confessed. The bombing of Narcosis and the events at After Dark had trickled out here – bringing more clients, and the fear that Bob’s Bar was the next target on the guys cleaning out the vampires. That was why the demons started to show up and forcefully eject the vampires from the place: they didn’t want to have to find another place to drink.
“Right.” Damen looked around the bar, surveying the group of humans and demons present. The place really had changed since stuff had started going down. Things that Damen had only heard about in rumours so far. “Since you’re the only guy left, this means you either know something, or you know someone who does.”
“Well, that’s also possible,” Bob hinted.
Damen stared at him for a minute, hoping to intimidate the bar owner into talking. He finally lost his patience and reached for another bill. “Better than a fuckin’ bank robber,” he muttered.
“Illana Toren,” Bob said as the final bill skillfully disappeared from the bar. He poured out another whiskey for the man sitting at the bar. “On the house.”
“God damn right it is, after that,” replied Damen, knocking it back. You just needed something to remove the pain of the rates that information could go for some days. Before Bob made another snide remark, he slapped more money on the bar.
“What’s this for?” Bob asked in mock confusion.
“Do not make me spell it out for you.”
Bob scribbled an address on a napkin, handing it to Damen along with a third drink. This one he passed on, opting to leave instead.
Bob made his way to the next customer. *Wow,* he thought, *Someone who knows how to do it right. Give the money, get the info, don’t beat up the contact.*
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Thursday 3rd August - late night
“Maggie, I’d like to take you out.” James announced, adding as an afterthought, “And you Janey.”
Maggie shrieked in delight, already wondering what she would wear, and dragged Janey towards their bedroom, giggling.
James smiled secretly to himself, anticipating Maggie next to him; her scent, the rustle of her dress as she moved against him to sensuous rhythms.
Hours later, Janey called to her sister, “ Maggie are you ready? We’re waiting!”
Maggie’s entrance was superb; Janey gasped in horror and James breathed out slowly in appreciation. Maggie smiled coyly at them both, smoothed her backless red Gucci minidress and asked innocently, “Is this ok?”
James nodded vigorously. Janey shook her head, wide eyed.
James suddenly had a wicked thought. “How are you gonna walk through the sewers in those shoes?” he asked.
Maggie’s eyes’ grew wide, “ I don’t know. Oh no - now I’ll have to change.”
To James this was precisely what he wanted to hear and he smiled, suggesting calmly, “I could carry you.” He had decided not to mention the other exit, this was far to good an opportunity to pass up.
“Oh James, thank you!” Maggie put her arms round his neck and he scooped her up into his arms. *Such a romantic pose,* Maggie thought, *Picture perfect.*
Janey tapped her foot, the trick her sister had used only her two nights before. She knew Maggie had counted on the shoes being an invitation of closeness to James, and of James planning their romance in the sewers. Courtship, she decided, was infinitely complex. Not to mention disgusting. Twenty minutes later James put Maggie on the first rung of the ladder, and eventually all three made their way into the club.
“Hey, Mags!” a slightly drunk vampire called from the bar, “Lemme have a slice of the action!”
“Fred, no. Go home to your girlfriend, you drunken idiot!” Instead she left her partner at the bar and smiled invitingly at a young guy and led him to the dance-floor. He introduced himself then carried on talking, telling her about his life.
“Ethan, honey,” she interrupted, “ That’s great, but yeah, shut up.”
Ignoring his protests that his name wasn’t Ethan, she turned her head and found James’ eyes. She slowed her movements; began to dance more sexily. She pressed herself to Not-Ethan and yet never once broke eye contact with James.
“Do you want another drink?” Janey asked but James shook his head - his attention was elsewhere. He got up and slowly made his way over to Maggie.
She broke from Ethan, James took her in his arms and they didn’t separate until they had to leave. They held hands as they left the bar, their eyes staring into the other's, completely unaware of Janey trailing miserably behind them.
James carried Maggie through the sewers, but did not put her down when they returned home. Cradled in his arms, she disappeared into his bedroom. Janey sighed and went to bed silently, and alone.
James brushed Maggie’s hair from her face and kissed her forehead. He sat, a red rose pricking his hands, and watched her sleep. He marvelled at how beautiful she was. Against the scarlet of the sheets her black hair fanned out from her small pale face, relaxed in sleep. Her lips were stretched into a small, secretive smile. A cat-that’s-got-the-cream smile. Under the crimson sheet her small frame was still. She turned over and began to stir.
As she opened her large green eyes, all she said was, “James.”
She sat up and he leaned over and kissed her. Their kiss was long, tender and passionate, and they parted, each smiling blissfully.
She giggled and, wrapped in the crimson bed sheets, wandered towards the room where her sister was sleeping.
Janey did not appreciate being woken up. “Its five o’clock! It’s not even fully dark yet!” she complained.
Maggie only sighed, smiling. “How amazing was last night?” she asked, eager for her sister to share her joy.
Janey shrugged, “Ok, I guess.”
“Ok?” Maggie stared at her sister in wonder, “That was the first night we’ve spent around other people, around our kind!”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean obviously, even though you only noticed one person all night. I suppose it was ‘cool’ to be around other vampires!”
Maggie giggled. She was ecstatically happy. *Everything is perfect,* she thought.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Saturday 5th August 2006
You stop in one of those handy shadowed doorways that are always so conveniently placed in L.A. You lower your head over cupped hands and the lighter clicks. And again. The red glow of the cigarette briefly sparks in your eyes, deep glowing red pits in the blackness. Then you shake out of it. It’s been years since you pulled that stunt.
Two shadowy figures march down the road past you, but you don’t really take them in. You’re not that kind of punter. Then - a reeling drunk, bottle in hand, skirt up around her knees. Used goods. Ah, better.
A single hand reaches out and you bring her easily to you. Her scent is warm, enticingly human. You stroke matted hair back from alcohol-dulled eyes. She doesn’t even have the senses to protest as you come closer.
In all your time in the human world, you have never experienced anything as sensual and erotic as the ultimate fiery thrill of the kill.
And then you drop her with a silence that sweeps, loud against the clamour of human life, across the city. Death, creeping quiet, claims another, but the pissed are never missed.
And you slip silently into the darkness. The pissed are never missed. Yes - that’s quite good.
***
Maggie turned around sharply. “Fresh blood. Blood has been spilled here.”
Janey shrugged, almost scornfully. “This is L.A. Blood is spilled every minute here,” she looked curiously across at her sister, “And I wouldn’t have thought that would bother you.”
Maggie was still unnerved, looking back over her shoulder. “The devil himself walks the streets here.”
Janey snorted inelegantly. “Evil? You superstitious fool - I thought we’d put all that mysticism behind us!”
“Yeah - well - oh sorry, forget I said anything. Let’s go eat.”
***
The twins turned a sharp corner and finally reached the club James had told them about. Maggie smiled toothily; she smelt fresh blood. Inside, she surveyed the room. One guy in particular caught her eye. Blonde hair hung just over his eyes; his big, beautiful blue eyes. Janey peered over her shoulder and Maggie nodded in his direction. He swayed on the dance floor, and as he turned she noticed another figure attached to him.
Janey sighed, “No, Maggie, choose someone else.”
Maggie shot her sister a look, meaning ‘I can do it.’
Later that evening the blonde, blue eyed man sat at the bar. Maggie perched on the bar stool next to him. “Drink?”
He looked her up and down, while The Pest looked at her icily.
“Beer,” he nodded.
She smiled. Maggie caught the barman’s eye, and he came over.
“I’ll have a Bloody Mary,” The Pest exclaimed in an irritatingly squeaky voice.
Maggie smiled, “Two beers and one Bloody Mary - can she have a lot of laxatives in that? Thanks,” Maggie whispered.
The barman nodded and scurried away. After a second round of ‘same again’, The Pest excused herself and wasn’t seen again that evening. Maggie and Chad headed for the dance floor, and after a while he bent his head down to hers and kissed her roughly. When he came up for air, Maggie signalled to her sister that it was time. Sighing, Janey dragged herself outside to watch for problems.
As soon as Maggie and Chad reached the alley, Chad became very keen. Maggie, giggling and kissing his neck, whispered. “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt a bit!”
She licked from his collar bone to his ear, and as she did so, her face changed. As she bit down on his neck and drank deep she heard him gasp, and the thrill of the kill ran through her. She shivered as she continued to drink until he fell limp in her arms. She called her twin over, Janey drank her fill and they headed back to the sewers, arm in arm.
“Maggie? What about -” Janey began cautiously.
“Don’t,” her twin interrupted, slipping out of Janey’s grasp. There was a note of anger, a warning not to go further in her voice. “I was feeding, Janey, eating. James is my… my, well I guess he’s my boyfriend.”
She smiled. *James, so unquestioningly sweet, so extremely hot, so completely devoted. I haven’t seen people in over 200 years, I was bored and hungry. I deserve some fun.*
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
***Flashback. Urm... 6 years ago? Then it skips around alot and I'm far to 'engrossed' in my Enlglish essay to work out the times. Sorry.***
Mantheana picked up the herbs and scattered them around her. She started to trace the symbols that she read from the book: The Mortality and Immortality of Coldlings, Vol IV: Ending. She was really going to do it. End it all. This was the last time he would leave her. She had cried so hard that she thought that the tears would scour great glacial ravines in her face. She was numb now though. None of it hurt her. And it wouldn’t ever again. The wailing had stopped. It had to stop. Mantheana would make it stop. She'd had enough of eternity after less than two hundred years.
It wasn't like anyone would miss her. Her family died long ago, in the knowledge that she was had either died or run away. They didn't care. They were dead. Maybe she would see them on the other side. The only person who really knew her had left again. Again. Come along and screw with you. Literally. Nothing new there. Except this feeling.
Crimson fingernails scratched numeral after numeral in the various magical ingredients she had so carefully prepared. Two to go. She looked back into the endlessly battered pages of the book and her stomach lurched. It had done that, since he left. It never did that before. Flipping and turning in the morning, until she had to pass up the last thing she ate. And the feeling that she was burning from the inside. Not painfully, but she felt it all the same. A tiny flame, more intense than she'd felt in years. What had the Abandoner done to her now? She had felt the world crumble around her before, but never inside her before.
Shakily, she traced a symbol. One left now. Mantheana started, but was stopped as she retched violently. She was knocked off balance and smudged half of her work out, along with the spray of vomit that had tainted the potion.
"Chort!" she cursed loudly, throwing the book down and storming off to the bathroom to be sick. Whilst holding her hair back from over the sink, she decided something. Mantheana was going to France. She was going to the doctor's. Head or body, she didn't mind. She wanted to be better.
******
Mantheana sat in the bath. It was baking hot. Or as hot as she dared, now. The doctor said that if it was too hot then it might damage the baby. She craved the blistering feeling on her skin, but now that same feeling was inside her. Her shape was changing. She knew she wouldn't stay slender for long. The bump was forming. Her child was growing. Inside her. A small but feisty flame. She wasn't going to be alone now. Mantheana was getting better. She had a reason now. A reason to go on. She sniggered a little at how the cruel man had unintentionally given her freedom from the dirty, emotional cage he kept her in. Now she felt like a bird that had been freed. She drew rings round her navel with a fingernail. Things were going to be fine now.
******
Mantheana wandered round the store. English convenience stores. Who would have them? A load of youngsters in stripy uniforms thinking they know how to price tag something. Mantheana wasn't too sure about price tagging herself, but that was far from the point. She walked down the isle looking for something cold and chocolatey. *Stupid cravings.* A man smiled at her. She turned to look at him and was only slightly dismayed at the response she got to him seeing her current state. The bulge of her pregnant belly was covered by a loose and flowing black dress. She clutched at it and went back to her browsing.
She picked up a choc-ice from the freezer-box. She was still another hour's journey away from her flat. At the counter, another teen prodigy of a till worker smiled brightly at her. Mantheana could see her eyes straining to look at her stomach.
"When is it due?" she crooned.
"Soon. Very soon." Mantheana raised an eyebrow, but kept her polite smile. This was not a road she intended on going down.
Mantheana handed over the change and was waiting for the till worker to open the till, when she felt it. Hot liquid poured down her inner leg. Confused she stepped back revealing a puddle. Her waters had broken. The old lady in the line behind her gasped and dropped her groceries. Mantheana was shaking. *Not here. Not now. I was almost there.*
"Madam?" Spoke the girl at the check out. "Madam, do you need some help? Would you like me to call an ambulance?"
But Mantheana wasn't listening. She turned away from the girl, and started to run as best she could.
She could barely hear the distant calling of 'Madam!' and no longer cared, as she ran to the motel she had stayed the night at. This was it.
******
Sweet sixteen. Mantheana moved gracefully across the stage on points, mentally blocking out the pain in her toes and smiling fixedly. Twinkling on points she built suspense before she leaped elegantly into her partner's arms. His built arms supported Mantheana at the waist while she moved her legs into different poses, setting off the dancers at the sides of the display. His muscles flexed as he threw Mantheana to the side, and she landed lightly with not sound, giving the illusion of her weightlessness. Little did the audience know of the precision timing needed to pull of this stunt.
Mantheana pirouetted dutifully and raised her hand, slipping it routinely into her partner's as they stood for the applause. She could see her father and mother in the audience, and Maria Romanov had come to see too. They sat in the high box at the very centre, able to see everything on stage. She almost wished she were watching as she loved to go to the ballet almost as much as she loved to perform it.
A man in the neighbouring box also looked down, admiring the young girl who had been dancing the lead. A supple body, lithe and athletic. Skin that looked soft to the touch. Chest small with youth. All this quite visible in the white leotard she wore. She had grown since their last encounter.
Of course, she needed maturing, that was for sure. Sixteen was just a tad too young. But she had life in her. And was obviously well bred by the way she held herself. He would come back for her soon. When she was ready, and he needed something new.
******
The swirling colour of dresses and eveningwear ran fluidly around Mantheana. At the grand table were her mother and father, talking about some highly important matter. For a second, she eyed a dancing couple jealously. Maria and her new courter. So the princess had a boyfriend. Mantheana did not. She wasn't jealous. Just simply worried. Yes, worried, that was it. Her father wanted her married to some rich toff. And it wasn't that the rich toffs weren't attractive and full of money. That was all part and parcel of being a rich toff. It was just that none of them really seemed interested in her. More the fact that her family name was indeed Alashkov, and that she had a pretty face and could bear many children.
Children were not on the cards for Mantheana right now. She didn't mind children. But the thought of childbirth seemed most undignified, lying on one's back with doctors commentating on the happenings between one's legs. [/I]Most[/I] undignified. Mantheana shot a glance back at Maria. She was still dancing.
"Care to dance?"
Mantheana was startled a little, as she had completely lost track of this going on around her. A tall gentleman stood before her, hand outstretched, waiting to help her to her feet. She blushed a little and stood up. The mysterious stranger took her hands and led her onto the dance floor. Almost at once, they stepped into the rhythm, moving to the waltz he held her side with one hand and her hand with the other.
His hands were cold. Mantheana wondered whether he had been standing out on the balcony or some such thing, as his frozen flesh was quite contrasting with the ball's stuffy atmosphere. Mantheana looked up at the stranger's face to find him looking directly back into hers. She smiled, blushed, and looked away.
"Do that again." His Russian was spoken softly to her in a way that was just hard to refuse.
"What?"
"That smile. Do it again." Mantheana did, and the gentlemen watched with unabashed enjoyment.
"Who are you?" Mantheana ventured a question.
"Apologies Miss, in my awe I quite forgot to introduce myself. I am Count Mikhail Trankski. And you are the beautiful Mantheana Alashkov, am I correct?"
"Yes Sir."
"Mikhail, please."
Mantheana was pleasantly surprised at this. She had known girls who had married and had children and still referred to their husbands as 'Sir'.
"Where did you come from Cou- Mikhail?" Mantheana was curious about the Count whose arrival had not been announced.
"I was born in Moscow some time ago; a beautiful city it is. Russia is beautiful. But it is only one country among so many. I have been all over the world. There are so many beauties to behold. I came back to Russia and discovered…" He paused and let Mantheana spin in time to the music, and recommenced as the waltz continued. "There is still beauty left in Russia." He smiled brilliantly as Mantheana's white skin flushed red at the cheeks.
The music drew to a finish, and Mikhail led Mantheana by the hand to a seat. His eyes moved over her and he found that he really did like what they saw. In the four years since he had seen her at the ballet, she had become less of a girl and more of a young woman, but no less innocent. She was as pure as snow, and her astounding maroon eyes contrasting with her milky skin could not help but make him think of blood on snow, or blood on silk. The dress that she wore tonight put her in a completely different light from the white leotard.
The snow fell outside as everyone sat down for the meal.
Mantheana sat down next to her father. She smiled politely and his severe expressions subsided a little. Mantheana could work wonders with her smile.
On her other side Mikhail sat down, displaying his affection and possessiveness over Mantheana. He looked at Count Alashkov and immediately knew the type. The sort of father who was over-protective for the wrong reasons. All Mikhail had to do was impress.
"Ah, Count Alashkov! I have just been dying to meet you! Your exquisite daughter has told me so much about you!"
Count Alashkov raised a cynical eyebrow - a habit Mantheana subconsciously took up many years later. "Who are you? You were not announced earlier, I noticed."
Mikhail smiled, "I am Count Trankski. Of the Moscow Trankskis."
"An old lineage."
"Of course. And a Noble one at that. But a family line does not continue by itself."
"I see. And what do you do? How do you upkeep the family name?"
"I," Mikhail paused for dramatic effect, "am an artist. I paint. Your daughter… tell me, does she model? Would she model? I do so enjoy beautiful things."
Count Alashkov continued his sizing up of Mikhail throughout the meal. Mantheana was the perfect young lady; trained for many years, she knew exactly which knife to use for which course and what to say to whom. She talked politely to everyone at the table. When the meal was finished, Mikhail launched into the tales of his travels, telling of France, England, Germany, India and China. The furthest Mantheana had ever been was from St Petersburg to Moscow with Maria when she was fourteen, and even then she had been ushered quickly between carriages and rooms. To her, these stories of the outside world were amazing. So long had she wished to break the confines of the life she lead.
Later there was more dancing, and much enjoying of fine wines and conversation. It was noisy and cramped. Mikhail took Mantheana outside. They sat out on the balcony in the snow, the delicate flakes melting on her skin and settling on his.
"Oh, it really is cold out here." Mantheana rubbed her hands briskly over her arms.
"It is indeed. You enjoy the warmth then?" He drew her closer to himself, feeling the radiation of her body heat near his skin.
"Of course. Who doesn't?"
"Ah, but could you live without it?" Mikhail smiled mischievously as if this question had some hidden meaning that Mantheana was thus far unaware of.
"Well, I suppose… it is always cold here, I guess I'm used to it and…" Mantheana was silenced by a kiss. She had never been kissed by a man before, and she found it was a pleasant experience. She felt like a lost child that had been found, and somewhere inside her a void was filled. In the moment that it lasted she wondered what effect this would have on her future, whether her father approved of the mysterious Mikhail, and whether all men had lips as cold as he did.
They parted and Mantheana smiled in an embarrassed sort of way. She let out a sigh and it hung in the air, a wisp of vapour.
Finally, Mikhail spoke, "Would you give it up? For me? To live for ever - we can do it, just you and me, but you'd have to be willing to give it up."
"I…"
"Do you want to live for ever? Will you live for ever with me?"
"Well, I suppose, if my father…"
"No. He has no part in us. We were meant to be together, and if you let me, I can make it an eternity. Don't you want that? An eternity with me? Just let me bring you into my world and I'll take you away with me."
"I…" Mantheana blinked and pursed her deep red lips. "Yes. That is what I want."
Mikhail nodded solemnly and picked up her hand, bringing it towards his lips. First it seemed like her might kiss the back of her hand, but he flicked it over, baring her inner wrist, a far more intimate place. Mantheana felt cold lips against her flesh, and all of a sudden, sharp teeth. She whimpered loudly as the blood began to trickle down her arm.
"You feel it?" Mikhail asked, his voice radiating strength. "It's warm. Are you going to give it up?"
Mantheana winced and nodded, trying hard not to feel the pain and the throb of blood let loose. Mikhail licked her wrist clean and laid his hand on Mantheana's chest, feeling for her beating heart. Then out of his mouth came words. Old words, syllables rarely heard in this age. At the end of this chant Mantheana heard, "To the Cold Lordess, she surrenders, give her Thy reward!"
Then the world changed.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Saturday 15th July, 2006
Birch Street, Alhambra, Los Angeles
6:10am
Galen awoke with a start. Beads of sweat trickled down his feverish brow and his heart pounded within his chest as the remainders of the nightmare he had just endured began to fade. It had been many months since their battle against the demon goddess Mariah, yet Galen still suffered terrible nightmares of being devoured alive by the ancient sea monster. As Galen’s breathing returned to normal he turned to the other side of the bed to find it empty, the sheets crumpled but still warm.
***
Galen paused in the nursery doorway. The dusky morning light had just begun to filter its way in through the curtains of the newly decorated room highlighting the figures of two people there within. The two most important people in Galen’s life. He walked over to the chair where Kate slumped with their baby daughter Emma cradled in her arms, and placed his hand gently on her shoulder. Kate tiredly opened her eyes and glanced up at him before turning her gaze upon the still-sleeping form of their daughter in her arms.
“I only closed my eyes for a few minutes,” whispered Kate as she stroked her fingers though the baby soft crop of dark red hair, a serene look of complete happiness in her tired eyes. “I still can’t get over how beautiful she is.”
Galen carefully stroked the baby’s fine hair, leaning over Kate. “She’s beautiful all right,” he turned to look at Kate and smiled, “she obviously gets it from her mom.”
Kate laughed lightly and smiled again as she rose to her feet, holding Emma close and rocking her gently in her arms. “She’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen, I still can’t believe she’s ours… that we made her.” Kate looked up as Galen walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, “Sometimes when I wake up and I check in on her… I just feel like it’s all a dream. That I couldn’t possibly be as happy as I am right now.”
As she carefully lay Emma back in her crib Galen pulled Kate in closer and gently nuzzled the crook of her neck. “I can’t remember a time when the two of you weren’t the most important people in my life.”
Kate turned around and wrapped her arms around Galen’s neck and pulled him in close to kiss him. As they parted Galen looked steadily into her dark blue eyes. “I never want that to change.”
“Neither do I.” Kate snuggled into Galen’s arms and he held her closer, running his fingers contentedly through her long hair.
“Kate… I need to talk to you about something.”
Kate grimaced for a moment. “You don’t have to, I know what you’re going to say.”
Galen frowned and looked down at Kate, “You do? … of course you do…”
“Yeah, well I suppose I can understand and I agree in a way, but I’ve really liked getting to know Jack these past few months while he’s been living with us. It’s given us time to really form a bond and he’s been so good with Emma… but I understand if you’d rather he moved out, I mean…”
Galen suddenly pulled back from Kate so that he could look her in the eyes. “I don’t have a problem with your father. I like Jack. He’s a stand-up sorta guy. That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
“It isn’t?”
“And you call yourself a telepath,” chuckled Galen.
“Well I could sense anxiety, nervousness a certain amount of apprehension… I just figured…”
“This has nothing to do with your father, it’s about us.” Galen glanced over at the crib and the tiny baby inside fast asleep and sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Maybe this isn’t the best time. I wanted to find the right time, the perfect time…”
Kate took hold of Galen’s hand, steadying him. “Now is as good a time as any for whatever it is you have to say.”
Galen led Kate to the other side of the room and sat her down. Kate frowned at Galen’s awkward behaviour and was about to speak when he suddenly took her hand and kneeled by her side. “Marry me.”
Kate sat in stunned silence for a moment before she could speak. “Um, er, wh-what did um, what did you say?”
Galen smiled awkwardly, squeezing Kate’s hand gently. “I asked you to marry me. I, I told you I was waiting for the perfect time… I’ve wanted to ask you for months but I… well. I didn’t want you to think this was just because of Emma, why I’m asking… proposing. I mean, it’s because I love you and I couldn’t imagine spending a day on this earth without you.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” continued Galen as he suddenly stood up and dashed out of the room, leaving Kate looking perplexed and confused. Minutes later he returned and resumed his position by her side. “You think this is a spur of the moment thing, that I haven’t thought it through, but I have.” Galen opened his hand to reveal a beautiful band of white gold with a sparkling diamond set in the middle.
Kate hesitated for a moment before speaking. “You’ve had that…”
“For a long time now,” said Galen, completing Kate’s sentence. “I told you I was serious.”
“Oh Galen… you know I love you. I love you so much it hurts… and we have a beautiful, perfect daughter together…”
Galen frowned and drew his hand back warily. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming here…?”
Kate took both his hands in hers again and held on to them tightly. “It’s not what you think. Things are going so great for us right now, these last few months… I can’t remember a time when I was so happy, so content. I just think… why change things, why spoil what we already have?”
“I wouldn’t consider marrying you to be spoiling anything Kate. I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Call me old-fashioned if you like but I just want everything to be right. I want you and Emma and me to be a proper, normal family…”
Kate shook her head in dismay. “We’ll never be a ‘normal’ family Galen.”
“You know what I mean. I want that stability… I want everybody to know just how much I love you.”
Kate looked steadily into Galen’s eyes, and gently caressed the side of his cheek. “I want that too. I’d like nothing more than to be your wife, to have you… to have you as my husband but…”
“But what?”
“But what if it ruins things for us, we’ve been through so much together in such a short time. What if it's tempting fate.”
“I don’t believe in fate,” Galen moved in closer and held Kate firmly in his arms. “I believe in us, I believe that we love each other enough to work through whatever life throws at us. I don’t know what the future has in store for us but I do know that whatever it is I want to face it with you by my side.”
Galen pulled Kate closer into his arms so that their lips were almost touching. “Emma is just our first, I want to fill this house with children.”
Kate smiled slightly, “It’s a big house.”
“I know,” grinned Galen as he pressed his lips against Kate’s in a long, lingering kiss. He slowly pulled away. “Say yes,” he whispered, kissing her again, “Say yes to me.”
Kate sighed breathlessly as Galen brushed back her hair and trailed kisses down her neck and shoulders. “Yes,” she spoke breathlessly and then smiled happily. “Yes.”
Galen suddenly halted his attentions and looked Kate in the eyes again. “You said ‘yes’…”
Kate mirrored Galen’s sober expression. “Yes. Yes I will marry you.”
Galen grinned widely as he cupped Kate’s cheeks in his hands and kissed her again before fumbling for the ring as he pushed it onto Kate’s trembling finger. Galen held her hand tightly and kissed it fervently.
“I don’t want to wait,” said Kate quickly.
Galen looked up, a confused frown spreading across his face. “What? … I just had to convince you that this whole marriage thing was a good idea.”
“I know,” continued Kate, “but if we’re getting married Galen, I want it to be now, I don’t want to leave anything up to fate. I want to marry you as soon as possible. You have a few days off work … we could go to Vegas, I know a High Priest there who could effect the union.”
Galen laughed. “A High Priest? In Vegas?”
“Sure,” grinned Kate, “he works the blackjack tables at Caesar’s Palace.”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
July 25th,
11:45pm
Watching the fight from a rooftop, Nicholas studied the combatants. The vampire was faster, stronger, tougher. Naturally the human facing him should be hard-pressed to win, if not only forestalling inevitable death. That was such the case with many. They were weak and pitiful. Death was what awaited them all.
But this one was different. Had Nicholas not known before anyway, he could have instantly been able to tell from just watching him these last few minutes. The human fought with both a demonic savagery and an unconscious skill that was unusual to say the least. Nicholas had seen it before, of course; in a Slayer for example or even some vampires, but in a mortal it was a rare occurrence.
Still, he had the explanation behind it. It was intriguing, and he had spent some hours playing with this fool over the last year, misguiding him here and there. But enough was enough. He was getting too close for comfort and, whilst the human didn’t threaten the ancient vampire in his current state, there was always the possibility; the chance, if you will. Dathan had decreed this, and the others had quickly agreed.
So, the risk would have to be eliminated. A pity, really. He could have become such a powerful ally to the Brotherhood. He had been in the past. But should the mortal remember… Nicholas refused to finish the thought. A powerful ally he might become, a dangerous enemy is almost a certainty. And now more than ever they couldn’t afford to take the chance.
And Dathan didn’t like to take chances. Nor, for that matter, did Nicholas.
“Him,” the Elder breathed, indicating the human as he staked his assailant, “That’s the one.”
The vampire behind Nicholas breathed in deeply with, Nicholas noticed, a great deal of effort. “Gonna be tough.” Earrings that covered both ears jingled slightly as he shook his head, “Went up against him a couple of nights ago, he and a vampire we were after. There was more of us then and he still got away.”
“He and the vampire have no real connection, Zacherus,” Nicholas said, studying the man. Neither vampire was worried they would be discovered. The Elder had already explained that the human’s sixth sense was poor. “And even if they did it will do him no good. That is being taken care of. You will just have to deal with him.”
He looked back at the other creature of the night, “I hope I am not misplacing my trust?”
“No worries,” Zacherus - or Zach, Nicholas believed he shortened it to - replied with a smile, “We can take out one guy.”
“Don’t underestimate him,” Nicholas corrected in a stern voice, looking away again.
“Whatever you say, boss.”
“Don’t call me boss. This is a temporary arrangement and no more.” *Because you might be dead before the week is out,* Nicholas added in his head, but didn’t say aloud. Zacherus did not need to know that little piece of information just yet. “Now, go. We both have work to do.”
“Sure thing boss-uh, sir.” Zacherus turned and took a few steps away, then paused. He half turned back, frowning. “Uh… I was just wondering. Well, um, why don’t you take care of this yourself? What with being all high and mighty and all?”
Nicholas didn’t reply. Instead he just smiled as he watched Chance climb on his bike.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Wednesday, 9th August 2006
Introducing Skin (lead singer of erst-while Skunk Anansie) as Max-as-in-like-Maxine
Maggie rolled over and stared up at him, and smiled gently, playfully. It seemed she never stopped smiling now. She’d tried - but life was perfect. At first, she’d wanted to know where the catch was, but there wasn’t one. Just blissful happiness with a man she... loved?
Maybe.
But all she knew for sure was that for the first time in her life - for the first time in over five hundred years - she was absolutely content. And reaching up, she pulled him down towards her and giggled, “Well it’s not dark yet-”
There was one who did not share her bliss. Janey walked up and down her bedroom; the bedroom she slept in alone now. A bedroom that was beginning to feel like a cell. She heard her sister’s giggle from next door and frowned, embarrassed to have to be here again for that. Taking her coat she reached for the door, unlocked it and shut it very quietly behind her.
She had no wish for company. Solitude - something she had never really experienced in her lifetime - was a bitter, savage joy. For she felt the loss of her sister like a tear somewhere deep down. A part of her had been ripped away and she felt aimless, disjointed. At night she felt them together in the back of her head, and she woke frightened of jealousy, frightened of being alone. The big bad world had swallowed up her sister, and she felt empty. Just empty - an aching nothingness.
So she went to familiar extremes to find something to make her feel once more. And she found alcohol. And she loved it. For with the bottle comes companionship; voices in your head you never knew had residency up there. In Janey’s case; Ronnie, Clarence and Boris. So regularly Janey went to find something she’d lost at the bottom of a vodka bottle - a sister, and a sister’s undivided love.
“If you pleazze good zzzir, I would like anozzer of zezz wonderfulconcuctionz.”
“Another Bloody Mary then?”
“Abzzolutely... hic.”
“There you are.”
“Now, I’ve been zzitting here all evening, good zzir, and I zink itz time you know...”
“Yes?”
“My name izz not Bloody Mary. I have juzzt been humouring you becauze....”
“Yes?”
“Do you know I’m rrreally rrrather intoxizated. Hic.”
“Really?”
“Trrrrrruly - in fact -”
The barman watched her topple off her stool with a certain amount of detached interest, polishing a beer mug as was expected. And then he watched the man who had been sitting in the shadows come and bend over her.
“Ah, now, my pretty little girl -”
Janey’s head just rolled uselessly.
“You know ‘er then sir?”
The man straightened up to look at the barkeeper. Beneath his darkly shadowy hood his eyes were in darkness, but a snake-like tongue appeared to rasp across his lips. “No. But we shall soon be intimately acquainted.”
Janey looked up curiously to see a head, snake’s tongue sticking out, go rolling across the floor. “Oh dear,” she murmured vaguely, some lost sensibility very deep down suggesting that maybe his head wasn’t supposed to be detachable like that.
She squinted up. A figure stood there, impressive against the aura of absolute silence that comes from just calmly taking out one of the Snake Demons on a Monday night. “Glad to make your acquaintance,” Janey said mildly, still eyeing the head of her would-be attacker dubiously, the snake tongue still hissing slightly. Janey, concentrating very hard on trying to make the world stop wobbling, didn’t notice her saviour roll her eyes.
The barman did however. “Right one you got here,” he commented dryly as the Mysterious Saviour hoisted the drunken vampire over her shoulder. Then leaning confidentially across the bar he whispered, “Got issues.”
The Mysterious Saviour frowned contemptuously over her shoulder, “Who hasn’t?”
A man slid into the seat Janey had recently vacated. “Who was that Max left with?” he asked casually.
The barman raised an indiscreet eyebrow, and held the beer mug up to the light. “A damsel in distress.”
The man raised his glass in a drunken toast. “Here’s to Max - and her latest lover.”
Flopping over her Mysterious Saviour’s back, Janey rolled in and out of consciousness. The first time to vomit conspicuously into the street and the second to ask, bleary-eyed, where she was being taken. Not that she was really that interested in the answer.
“I’m taking you back to my place.”
“Why?”
“To clean you up.”
“Why?”
“’Cos you a mess, sister.”
“Why?”
“’Cos you pissed outta your head.”
“Why?”
“How’d I know? That’s your deal.”
“Why?”
“You got a real limited vocabulary, y’know.”
“Wh - hey, I don’t have a limited vocab...vocabulalalalee.”
“Vocabulary.”
“’s what I said.”
“Yeah, tell that to the doctor.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“Nope. I don’t hold no shit with doctors.”
“No - shit - doctor.”
“Yeah, that right.”
“Who are you?”
“Max. Who are you?”
“An Evilly-Blood-Sucking-Vampire. Used to be an Aztec-Sun-God-Princess, but I had a career change.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, Mr. Max Man.”
“Nuh-nuh-nuh - Max, as in like Maxine.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, no shitting you.”
“No - shit - me.”
“Yeah, that right.”
“Max-as-in-like-Maxine, why are you carrying me over your shoulder?”
“’Cos you ain’t even able t’walk, let alone in any straight line.”
“No - I mean why have you got me at all?”
“You wanna be dead shit?”
“I - no, I don’t think so.”
“Well then, that why I picked you up outta that bar.”
“Oh.”
And she lay passively down against her Mysterious Saviour, Max-as-in-like-Maxine’s back. There really wasn’t anything more to say.
*****
Maggie flung open her sister's door, “Janey, I -” she stopped and stared around the room frowning. Turning she called, “James? James, she’s not here.”
On receiving no answer, Maggie began to feel quite alone. Shivering, she flounced into the kitchen and yanked open the fridge door. She found the one thing she desired, and drank. Using her most seductive voice, she called, “James, are you hungry?”
When there was still no answer, she slammed the door shut and threw herself upon her bed. *Where could they be?* she wondered, *Not in the bathroom, either of the bedrooms, nor the living area. Unless they’ve both gone out and left me behind.*
Tears of rage blurred her vision. Suddenly something fell on top of her, laughing. It tried to kiss her. On realizing it was a person, she pounded his chest with her fists. He pinned her hands down, one each side of her head. He bent down and kissed her throughout her struggles. Using one hand he held on to her wrists, the other began to undo the shirt she wore.
“Hold still!”
She struggled all the more, then she began to laugh, "I’m sorry, James. I just can’t.” Giggling, they kissed some more.
Maggie lay cuddled up to James, and in the back of her mind she couldn’t help but wonder where her sister was. Knowing she was safe did nothing to ebb the flow of curiosity. *She is ok; I’d know if something was wrong. We know things like that. I wonder where she is. She shouldn’t have gone out and not told either of us. At least I know she’s ok, because I would definitely know if something was wrong. Wouldn’t I?*
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Later that night after the fight - 24th July 2006
((just a small post ))
James looked towards his grandsire and spoke, "Hey Krispy, wher...?"
Krispin backhanded James across the chest, sending him sprawling across the floor. “Never call me Krispy!”
Krispin then held out his hand which James duly accepted.
They finally stopped walking when they came to a room. Krispin opened the door, pushed James in and slammed the door hard behind him. The room was covered in crosses.
James could hear Krispin's words echoing outside, “This is the test of your mental stability."
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
July 27th,
7:33pm
Chance raised the phone to his ear, placing the card on top of the battered box. The booth itself wasn’t much to write home about; graffiti covered the dented and grazed plastic, paint had been scratched and, in one place, burnt off.
He paused before he put in the change. This was probably going to be a long shot, but he was running out of options. And what was the point of being owed a favour if you never called it in? Chance slotted the money, heard the click and then the dialling tone. Checking the number on the card, he dialled.
After five rings, somebody picked up.
"Hello-" Chance began, only to realise the voice that answered him was programmed.
“Hello,” said the answering machine. It sure sounded like the guy he met, though to be honest it was somewhat less stressed, “You have reached James Connor. Sorry, but I’m not available at the moment. Please leave your name, number and a message, and I’ll get right back to you.”
Chance swore. He couldn’t well leave a number without camping outside the booth for god-knows-how-long.
He waited for the beep. “James, it’s Chance. Remember the fight the other night? Good. Well, I kinda need that favour you owe me. I’m looking for someone who, shall we say, hasn’t had a tan in a long time. A very long time. I can’t leave my number, I’m at a public phone, but if you could meet me down at Bob’s tomorrow night, that’d be ace. Okay? Damn, gotta go. Money’s about to run out. See ya.”
He hung up just before the last cent dropped and pushed his way out, making sure he picked up the card as he did so. It might come in handy again. Glancing up, Chance decided he had more than enough time to get back to his place before the sun went down and go out on patrol.
Who knows, maybe tomorrow he might get lucky.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
July 28th,
8:16pm
Bob checked over his shoulder again awkwardly as he swaggered down a forlorn street. The last rays of sunlight from that day were fleeing from the growing shadows and didn’t reveal anything to him. That, of course, didn’t stop him from checking anyway. He of all people knew what hid in the dark. He served them on a regular basis.
The owner of Bob’s Bar halted in front of a shattered carcass of a building. It was typical of those others that surrounded it. Most of them were abandoned. Some, like this, weren’t. He served most of those who occupied places like this, too.
Squinting against the fading light, Bob made sure this was the place he was looking for, then stepped into it. No dust rose to greet him, which meant he was definitely in the right building. For a few moments, Bob just stood there. He had no real idea what to do, other than be told to come here if he had information.
He went further into the two-storied building, treading lightly and fearing that every step could cause the floor to collapse. With every creak, which came often, he froze fearing for his life. It was a normal feeling, so it didn’t make him run out of the building as fast as he could, like others less used to being afraid might have done.
Ahead of him a staircase loomed unwelcomely out of the darkness to greet him. Had they even looked safe instead of half-collapsed and ready to fall apart in a strong wind Bob wouldn’t have set foot on them. He had heard stories of people falling through stairs in places like these. One time he had heard on the news about this girl in a little town just outside of LA who had been running up the stairs of an abandoned factory when they collapsed and she became impaled on a large spike-
A muscular arm whipped round his neck from behind and Bob felt a sharp point jutting into his back. Instantly he tensed and his arms grabbed onto the arm, but it was like a vice and with his struggling tightened even further.
“Stop squirming or I might have to hurt you,” came a calm voice whispering in his ear. Bob tried a little more for appearances sake then gave up. It was futile anyway. Who would care if he struggled before he was killed? More importantly, who would tend to the bar?
“Okay, pal. You got it.”
“Bob? Is that you? What the hell are you doing here? What are you doing out the bar?” It took a few moments before Bob recognised the voice of that Chance. So this was the right place. And he'd called his bar a dump!
“Came to find you, pal. You know, like what you said about finding out about something you might find interesting,” he paused, “And I don’t live there, y’know.”
The arm was removed and he felt the object, which must have been a stake, disappear. Bob turned to find Chance standing with arms folded, one eyebrow raised and wearing that red jacket that he was always wearing yet never seemed damaged. For once, Chance was sporting no bruises or gashes, which was a first for Bob.
“Well? You better not be lying to me or talkin’ out yer arse, Bob, or I’ll-“
“No need, no need,” Bob cut him off, raising both hands in surrender and taking a step back, “This is the absolute truth.”
Chance paused for a moment. Whilst he was thinking it over, Bob was becoming increasingly nervous. *What if he doesn’t believe me? What happens then?* He tried to hide his edginess by fidgeting.
“Okay. Go ahead. I’ll listen to whatever it is and decide then.”
Bob smiled to himself as he sighed. *This is going to be easier than I thought!* “Okay, I was serving a guy last night. Not one of my usual people. Well, I say people - I mean vampires. Anyway, he’s one of them Fascionists. Know of them?” Chance shook his head, frowning. “Never mind. Basically they’re vampires who try to-"
But Chance gave him a dismissive wave, “I’m not interested.”
“No. Right. Course not. Who would? Okay.” Bob took a breath and continued on, “Well he tells me that this place they go to, a bar for vamps and humans, it got trashed a short while ago.”
“Boo hoo,” Chance said, impassive.
“Yeah I know. Real shame,” Bob replied, voice laced with both sarcasm and feeling. Narcosis, After Dark… it could easily be his place next. But, although the vamps were getting skittish, it brought in the demons. And business was business. To draw Chance’s attention away, he continued on, “Anyway, when I say trashed I mean trashed. Every vamp in there was killed. ALL of them. Any humans were told to get out fast. I guess they didn't take much convincing."
“Gangs? Demons?” Chance said, not really sounding too bothered.
“Naw,” Bob answered, “Something else. Vampires. A vampire, to be exact.
“One vampire? One vampire trashed a whole building full of ‘em?” And Bob knew that Chance was hooked. Inside his head he was laughing, but outwardly he had to keep him now that he had him.
“Yeah, so I heard. Just the one. But it gets better, listen to this: y’know those vamps I told you about? Well, he was one of ‘em. An Elder.”
“An Elder,” Chance breathed.
“An Elder,” Bob confirmed, “And there’s more. The place is run by a vampire who could’ve probably, maybe, stood up against him. But she was kept away and distracted by another Elder.”
“Two? Two Elders in LA?”
“Apparently so.”
“Names. I need names.”
“Don’t know ‘em, can’t tell ya. But this was what you wanted, right?”
“Yes, it is.” Chance reached into his pocket, and Bob tensed again, worried he would pull out a weapon and this would all have been in vain. But it wasn’t. Instead Chance offered Bob the most unlikely thing he would expect this particular vampire hunter to hand out. Money. “Here. For your troubles.”
*$50 dollars! Jeez, this just gets better and better!* “Thanks, pal,” Bob managed to mutter, quickly grabbing the note and checking it before secreting it about his person. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was more than he ever expected to get out of Chance. He made to leave, pushing past Chance, but he got no further than two paces before the man whirled.
“Wait! Where is this bar? Where did it happen?”
*I nearly forgot!* Bob swore to himself. “I can do better than tell you. I can show you.”
Minutes later they were on Chance’s bike speeding through the streets. The sun was down now, and the moon was rising whilst Chance questioned to himself the wisdom of bringing Bob along, but from the complexity of the directions the bartender was shouting in his ear it seemed necessary. Of course, he could just be making the journey longer to make his presence needed so as to sell anything that happened along, but he might not.
If Bob could be trusted, if there was some clue at this bar. If one of the two Elders was who he was looking for, then coming to LA might not have been in vain after all. If, if, if. At least this time Bob sounded honest. And he hadn’t actually gone out and lied to Chance yet. Sure he had been mistaken, but not actually dishonest. At least, not to Chance’s knowledge.
‘Old and powerful’ he had been told. *Well, they don’t call ‘em Elders for nothing, so that’s gotta count for something. And if just one can take out a building full of vampires… yeah I’d say that’s powerful.* For a moment, just the tiniest fraction of a moment, he wondered if he was way out of his league, just like the Vagabond said. But then he recalled the bodies of his parents, and a firm resolve set in.
“Here!” Bob yelled, and Chance came to a halt, looking at a building gutted by fire and taped up from here to Kingdom Come with police lines. So far so good.
“This the place?” he asked, studying Bob’s face for any signs of deception. But there was none.
Yeah, here,” the bartender said, as Chance leapt off the bike. Bob followed suit and began heading towards the ravaged club.
“Bob,” he began, “when exactly did this happen?”
“Well, uh, I’m not quite sure, really…” Chance simply waited. “Ok, ok, it was the 16th."
“That was almost two weeks ago!” he yelled, “Why take so long to tell me?”
“Um…y’see, I only just found out meself. Yeah, that’s it.” Picking up his pace, Bob pushed ahead of Chance, quickly changing the subject. “You can’t get in round the front, but there’s a way in round back. You do want to get in, right?” he queried, pausing to look back.
“Sure. But don’t you think you should wait out here?” Chance suggested, not wanting whatever he found inside being relayed across half the underworld over a pint. Besides, he had a feeling the bartender was up to something. Waiting this long to tell him, showing him where it was in person…
“No way. I’m as curious as you,” Bob replied, already moving off into a side alley. Chance sighed and jogged to catch up. Obviously he wasn’t getting rid of him, and had no way of guessing what Bob was up to. That he was up to something Chance was certain, but, hey, it’s not like he was getting anywhere. Keeping the vamp population of LA down was probably all he was accomplishing these days. And having a favour with someone only got you so far if you could contact him.
They crossed the mouth of the alley. Chance grimaced as they went deeper into the piss-smelling darkness. After about two dozen more steps, Bob lit a cigarette and handed offered it to him. “Smoke?”
“Sure. Why not?” Chance took it and raised it to his lips. Another few steps. Then he noticed something odd.
Bob hadn’t taken a cigarette for himself. A small thing, but it didn’t really add up considering he carried them around and had offered one.
He turned to look at Bob, ready to ask why he wasn’t smoking. But Bob was backing away and raising a gun out of his pocket. A gun! When he saw him notice the weapon, he tried to draw it even quicker, but it was too late and Chance was able to kick it out of his hand. Bob swore, grabbing his hand as the gun clattered to the ground and spun into the darkness.
Chance advanced on him, fists balled. “Bob, you back-stabbing son of a bitch! What the fuck is this? No, I don’t care! Say hi to the devil for me.” He brought both hands together and made ready to pummel the cowering figure before him.
“You can tell him yourself,” came a voice that was both threatening and menacing; a pair that together Chance knew was never good. As the owner stepped into the moonlight, he guessed that the voice fit the speaker: tall, bald and with both ears full of earrings. Another joined him. And another. And another. Soon there were nearly two dozen figures around him.
Chance eyed each one carefully. “What the hell is going on?”
“Can’t you tell?” said Bob in a mocking tone from behind him. Chance whirled on him. “I’m fed up with you types barging in, throwing around punches like you own the place, taking free drinks and threatening me. Well, it’s time to get even. Little revenge from me. He’s all yours boys.” The bartender stepped in close, “I’m going to look forward to seeing you ripped apart.”
“Pity, you’re going to miss it.” Chance hit him hard. He watched uncaring as Bob went down, unconscious. He turned back to the others and grimaced again. But this time it wasn’t with the smell. All of them had shifted into vamp mode. *Wait a minute, aren’t they the ones from the other night? Oh, great. This just gets better and better…* “Look, guys, whatever Bob’s giving you to do this, I can assure you he ain’t gonna come through after he wakes up-"
Earrings gave a disturbing laugh. Chance didn’t find it very funny, and he had an interesting sense of humour. The others laughed as well. “Bob isn’t giving us anything. We got him to help us. Seems some people in high places are fed up with you sticking your nose in places it doesn’t belong. So we’re going to take it off. Besides, we don’t let those who stake out friends get away with it.”
People in high places, Chance thought, but didn’t have time to dwell on it for too long. The more prominent thought was, *Guess they must have been recruiting.* He thrust his hands into his jacket pockets, coming out with a stake and crucifix.
“Yeah? Well what about the other guy? Oh, and you’re welcome to try,” Chance said, waiting for the first strike. A vamp on his left kept looking nervously between him and Earrings, as if awaiting some signal. *Twelve! Twelve vampires! Surrounding me. No escape route, no hope of getting to my bike. Good bye, cruel world…*
“I intend to,” the vampire rumbled, a smile spreading across his features as he gave a mock salute. Apparently that was the signal, for sure enough Nervous Vamp came at him, whipping a bike chain over his head. Chance ducked it and dropped to the ground, kicking out. Nervous Vamp flew over Chance into another bloodsucker coming from behind. They both fell into a tangled heap.
Chance was back up on his feet, but caught a blow to the chest as he did so. A hard blow that probably bruised some ribs. He stumbled back, winded, held up the crucifix to ward off three of them, and then a vampire punched twice in his chest. The first he couldn’t block, but the second he batted to one side. Chance followed this up with a quick kick and the creature retreated a step.
He was just about to press on when two of them rushed him from behind. They slammed into his back and he toppled to the ground, managing to keep hold on the stake but the crucifix went flying. Rolling to avoid a foot that would have stopped him from having kids, if he lived long enough to have them, Chance collided with somebody’s leg. A shocked vampire fell across him, landing right on his stake. The creature exploded into dust with the same look of surprise Chance wore. Not stopping to think about it too long, he pushed himself up and spat some of the dust out his mouth. A foot, from out of nowhere, hit him in the face and knocked him on his back. Blood began to trickle out his nose. He blacked out for a second or two, and when he came round a vamp was leering over him. In desperation, Chance kicked up, but it grabbed his leg and spun him onto his front. He followed the twist through to roll away, then scrambled to his feet.
Chance narrowly missed a blow that would have knocked him unconscious completely and kneed his attacker in the groin. Its eyes bulged in pain, and the vamp even let out an almost-human whimper. A quick punch in the face, then the stake did its work. Chance was nearly sorry he had put the creature out of its misery.
Gaining a brief respite, Chance took a deep breath. His chest rattled as he breathed in, and his ribs were getting sore. This was not fun. There was no skill to fighting like this, just how Chance liked it. It was street fighting; brawling. How most vampires he came across fought. Oh sure, there were the odd few skilled in martial arts and that, but for the most part it was no more than fisticuffs. And you didn’t hunt vampires as long as he had without picking up a few tricks along the way. That was all he had on his side, he just prayed it was enough.
A vamp with no hair except a braided ponytail at the back came in at him fast, delivering two swift punches to Chance’s face that had him reeling. He was sure that at least one spilt his lip open. The third shot, though, he caught and then shoved the stake up through the arm. It passed through the muscle and out the other side. Twisting it free, Chance ignored the vampire’s screams as he then plunged the wood into Ponytail’s chest. It exploded. Chance dashed through the collapsing dust cloud and leapt, delivering a flying kick square into another one’s chest. It relented under the assault and he pressed on with a series of punches. He would have staked it too, had it not been for a particularly ugly vampire that grabbed his stake-hand. Chance looked up at it and wished he hadn’t when he saw the gruesome sight.
It smiled at him, a smile that only made it look even more ugly, and wrenched. He cried out as his arm bent in a way it was never meant to and the stake clattered to the floor. He repaid the ugly vamp with a kick to the side of its knee that had it roaring in pain. Its leg collapsed and it dropped onto one knee. Chance backhanded it and the vampire let go of his arm as it hit the floor. But the backhand was with the one that had just been twisted. He could feel it throbbing with pain and start to swell. There might be something broken. Chance looked around for the stake.
But before he could retrieve his fallen weapon three firm punches to the gut came in quick succession from a vamp covered in tattoos and had him gasping for breath. Fighting for air, Chance let the vampire think it had the best of him, which quite honestly it almost had, then grabbed one of its punches in both hands before it could connect and swung in passed its guard. Keeping one hand on the outstretched arm, Chance delivered an elbow into the vampire’s stomach then backhanded it in the face. It took a step back and Chance kicked it in the knees. The undead creature roared as it fell to the floor, more in anger and frustration than in pain, lashing out at the same time with his foot. Scything Chance’s legs out from underneath him, he toppled to the floor with a thud. He was back up quickly, but surrounded again.
The surviving vampires, all nine of them, gathered around him, looks of pure hatred etched on their features. And something else as well. Anticipation. They were waiting to feed. Chance was bouncing on the balls of his feet. Three down, nine to go. He was panting now, sweat mixing with blood, which was pouring freely from multiple wounds on his face. He could already feel the bruises forming.
Chance’s head darted from side to side, but these vampires looked more experienced and did nothing to give away any form of attack. In fact, the only thing they did do was grin evilly. And so it was that three came at him from behind, silent as the grave, and caught him unawares. In an eyeblink hands were on his arms in vice-like grips and a knife at his throat, drawing a small sliver of blood. He desperately tried to fight them off, but he was too tired and battered to resist, and they were too strong. It was all over.
“You put up a good fight,” Earrings said, suddenly right in front of him, grinning evilly. It clasped its meaty hand around his neck and raised him off the floor. Legs dangling, arms scrabbling at the vampire’s arm, Chance’s vision slowly began to swim. “But not good enough.”
In the corner of his eyes, the world slowly started to turn to black. Barely, he could see more figures emerging from the darkness, more vampires. Soon all he could make out was the vampire’s two shining teeth drawing closer and closer…
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
24th July 2006 - 5am
James sat crosslegged in the middle of the small room which was coverd in holy icons. He sat and contemplated what got him into this whole situation, then he recalled the first time he had ever met dear Ebonia.
*****
James’ first week in Peru had been a very eventful one; befriended by some orphan children, easy lunch of course, and attacked by a Slayer who turned out to be the carer of the children. The vampire had never fought a Slayer before but had heard stories… they were all true. He gave as good as got but in the end he barely escaped with his life.
“The next time will be different,” James said out loud, entering the large ballroom. He was overwhelmed by the smell of expensive perfume and cigars, but no matter how well the rich hid their scent James could always smell their dirty money. As he scanned the room he began to notice the main players. Francis Eatten, a lowly English business man who was very influential in the local matters. Human, of course, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have some serious backup. Then there was Karsh the Warlord, the vampire even vampires feared. He was pretty old even by vampire terms, almost 600 years old. He was the man who James was here to kill, not because he was being paid to do so, just because he wanted to test himself. The Slayer had been a big enough test and he had begun to doubt that he would be able to kill Karsh because of her.
Ebony sniggered. She loved to watch the living world. It was something as distant to her as the undead world. It was entertainment. She watched the eager-faced young people enjoying themselves and loving one another and hating one another and it filled her with glee.
Tonight was going to be fun.
"Jemmmmm…" She tugged on Jem's sleeve, "Are we goin' to 'ave fun? You said we could an' it's been so long since I've 'ad fun." She grinned with her pixie face. Her hair was straight these days, and a dark, dark brown. Her skin was pallid and unhealthy, like her state of mind. Dark lips pouted comically and dark eyes were glazed and far away.
Jem frowned upon her friend and then her expression melted. "Sure Ebs. I'm hungry. And I heard there's a Slayer among these parts. Not exactly a classy place though… Peru? I mean come on!" She stopped talking and flashed a smile at another dark character in the crowd. Chris smiled back and moved over to talk to them. He had been out earlier, feeding, and this was their chosen meeting spot. He took Jem's arm, and the three of them mingled with the crowd.
James circulated among the crowd watching Karsh, intently planning on making his move. He didn’t doubt that most of the people here were guilty of some crime or another, that’s why he took pleasure in what he was about. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her… the Slayer. She was floating around the ballroom looking extravagant in her dress. Although she hadn’t seen him yet, James had to wonder how God could create a creature so beautiful yet so deadly. He knew she was not here for him. Karsh perhaps?
Starting to walk over to her, James sensed them. Turning his head quickly he saw three vampires. Just by the way they acted around the humans - confidently graceful, just like any other predator around prey - he knew they were vampires. He changed direction and headed towards them, pushing through the crowds of gentlemen and ladies. When he finally got there he introduced himself.
“Good evening ladies and sir, my name is James Connor.” James took the hands of Jessica and Ebony and kissed them. As he did so he looked deep into their eyes, which the man took great displeasure in seeing him do. “And may I ask what your names are, my ladies?”
"Jemima." Jem looked at this new vampire. She was in a cynical mood - and hungry too. "My partner Chris," she motioned and Chris gave a scowl of acknowledgment.
"And this is," she grabbed Ebony's arm, as Ebony had started to wander, "this is Ebony. Ebony, smile for the vampire."
Ebony's eyes suddenly focused on the face in front of her, as if only just noticing the stranger. She cocked her head to the side and hugged her ribs.
"Hello James." Her raw-liver coloured lips produced a smile with no concentration behind it. Strange thoughts reflected in the chocolate of her eyes. She looked at a couple standing by a table and shuddered briefly. "Killed a lot then, have you?" she spoke to James and looked through him, as if to the back of his skull, "Lots and lots?"
James smiled at the pretty-faced young vampire. “Care to dance?” James held out his hand and slightly expected her to walk away. But she took his offer and they began to dance. He held her closely by her waist as they began to dance, staring deeply into her eyes. There was something different about this girl, he knew, and as they danced James noticed Karsh and the Slayer off in the distance. He gave Ebony a wicked grin.
“Do you know what's so special about her over there?” James said, motioning towards the Slayer and hoping for the right answer.
Ebony's eyes filled with tears for a split second, before a blink cleared them. She rested her head on her dance partner's chest as if suddenly tired. "Special? Not in the tasting… but in the bite and bark," she smiled, "Not so special that I haven't tasted her kind before… but special from the world… until she dies… and then she is plain again…"
Ebony looked, for the first time, at James, "Have you come here for her, luvie? Here for the chance to break her special neck and make it plain again?" She licked her lips.
James smiled, “I’m not here for her. I want some other neck.” He pointed towards Karsh .The song changed and as did partners. Ebony went to some rich Peruvian and James to some petite English woman. When the music started up again the carnage began. The first scream came from the Peruvian man Ebony was with. His scream was quickly squelched by the noise of bone breaking.
James took his cue from Ebony and he snapped the neck of the English woman. He felt her body fall limply to the floor in is arms. He grabbed an ice pick from the ice bucket the vampire headed towards Karsh and the Slayer.
A large man headed towards James and threw a punch at him, which he easily deflected and retaliated with the ice pick, plunging into the man's jugular. Arterial blood began to spurt from his neck covering the scampering guests.
Ebony was at this moment occupied with the blood that had gotten all over her. She wiped it from her face, and the colour of her lips did not change. Childishly she wiped her hands down her skirts, leaving dark blotches on the already black fabric. Satisfied, she looked over at Chris and Jem, who were devouring a guest together. The plan had been to wait until after, or pick people off in some place slightly less public, but the plan had changed when things had got interesting. Chris and Jem were kissing now, their victim crumpled at their feet and blood on their faces, havoc happening around them.
She stared at them with the same unabashed nature of a small child who does not understand the nature or context of kissing. Then a stumbling human ran into her and she was knocked to the floor. She sat up, hair a state of disarray, and wrinkled her nose in distaste.
And she watched the chaos.
James had gotten to Karsh and the fight had begun. They started trading blows; Karsh was stronger than James but he was faster. Every punch Karsh got into him, he stabbed Karsh with the ice pick three times. Karsh slammed his elbow into James’ jaw, knocking him off his feet. He looked up to see Karsh fighting with the Slayer and fairing baldly.
“OK, Karsh. Temporary cease fire.” He got to his feet, ice pick still in hand, and attacked the Slayer. She was fast and strong, blocking attacks from them both with relative ease. She tried to spring kick Karsh but James caught her leg. The other vampire took this signal to kick the Slayer the face. The Slayer sailed through the air and slammed hard into a table causing it to buckle under her weight. No sooner had the table collapsed than James was on her, stabbing the ice pick into her jaw.
It snapped in hand and he felt a pain in his chest. Looking down to see what happened James saw a large piece of wood sticking out of his chest, just missing his heart. The Slayer was bleeding profusely but was still strong enough to get up and try and finish the job off.
Ebony was still watching. Slowly, she hoisted her little body from the ground and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. Jem and Chris were watching the fight with bemused smiles, wondering who would win. She, however, did not. Such things did not really interest her, but she knew all the same. It was pretty obvious. After all, if you paid enough attention to the Slayer's technique and those of the demon and James, and how they interacted, you would not be paying any attention to Ebony, who was wandering closer and closer to the fight.
The Slayer was fighting with venom now, and though her heart was failing, it just served to push her further and drive her to the strength and fury of a cornered animal. Blood and saliva oozed down her wrecked face, and she wielded her weapons; a knife from one of the food tables and a piece of jagged wood, with reckless daring and menace.
Screaming wildly, she beat upon her opposition, as only a dying Slayer could. Blood and sweat sprayed in all directions and suddenly there was no fight. Even Jem had only just noticed Ebony's presence. It was well known to those who knew Ebony that she liked special things. She gazed into the Slayer's eyes, and tears sprung from her own. She placed a cold hand on the gaping wound that was the Slayer's cheek.
Breaking from Ebony's hypnotic trance, the Slayer struggled, but Ebony merely aided the Slayer's hands back down to her sides, and she dropped her weapons. The Slayer was crying too now, unsure of what was happening.
"Shhh…" Ebony spoke softly, "No need to cry." She smiled and the Slayer, to everyone's surprise, smiled back. The fight seemed long ago and forgotten. "No need to cry." Ebony stood up on her tip toes and kissed the Slayer on her gory cheek, red lips on red, broken flesh. Then it was the Slayers neck that was broken, and the fact that Ebony's hands were around her neck was suddenly noticeable. The Slayer slumped forward into Ebony's receiving arms, like friends embracing.
Slowly Ebony sat down, cradling the Slayer's head in her lap and stroking her fingers through the matted and bloody hair. Her one special toy was now plain and would rot and turn to earth like everything else did. The Slayer's tears were now lost in blood, and Ebony lost in incomprehensible thought. The rest of the room came back to its senses.
James slowly tore out the piece of wood that was sticking out of his chest, his attention quickly coming towards Karsh who was badly beaten and bleeding. The vampire pointed at Karsh, “Another time, when we are both in better shape.”
As James started to walk towards Ebony he stopped half way. “Screw it.” He turned sharply round and tossed the piece of wood at Karsh. It hit him in the heart causing him to turn to dust.
The vampire looked intently at Ebony and Jemina. “Looks like I found myself some new playmates.”
By this time, Jem had picked up Ebony off the floor and set her on her feet again. Ebony was staring intently at the Slayer's corpse as if waiting for something, but Jem took her by one arm and Chris by the other. With chaos behind them and a clear night ahead, it really could be said that they had had some good fun tonight.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Melbourne Grammar, Melbourne
Tuesday the 25th July, 2006
12:24EST
Quin’s feet landed lightly, half-heartedly pulling their weight up the stairs of Melbourne Grammar as she gradually made her way to class. Eyes downcast, she missed any looks from the random stragglers out of class spotting the corridor alongside the tall lockers, as she meekly passed them all by, ignoring the whispers she knew she could hear.
“So, who can tell me how to find the length of the opposite side of this triangle using COS?” The words of her Maths Methods teacher flowed out through the door, increasing in volume as she opened the door to enter her class.
“Ah, Quin. So nice of you to join us this morning,” Mrs. Jennals said, and then made a show of checking her watch, “Five minutes before our class ends.”
Quin just soundlessly propped herself down in the closest spare seat, dropping her bag to rest at her legs. This gained a disapproving glance from her teacher, but she didn’t say anything.
“Hey wow! Five minutes this time? That’s got to be a new record, doesn’t it?” said one of the many boys in the class. Although Melbourne Grammar was a co-ed school, it was only a couple of years beforehand that the decision to cater for both boys and girls in the middle and senior years had been cleared.
“Yeah,” chuckled Cas, another student in the class who twisted around in her seat to try and face Quin’s evasive eyes, “So how was your holiday this time, death girl?” She waited for a retort of some sort from Quin, but only continued to receive the silence that’d become something of a trend this morning. “What, no clever come back?” Cas taunted with a cruel smile that slowly faded as Quin’s acknowledgement of her continued its non-existence.
Cas sniffed, upper lip curled and spun back around to the front, muttering, “Slut.”
Quin’s eyes darted up momentarily, then sighing inwardly, she lowered her gaze back to the desk.
“I’m not going to be interrupting you if I start talking now, am I Cassandra?” Mrs. Jennals said with raised eyebrows. Turning back to the whiteboard, she started to answer the trigonometric question with her favoured blue marker, “We should feel honoured that Quin has decided to take the time out of her busy schedule to join us. And I, for one, am going to celebrate by trying to cover as much as I can in these remaining few minutes, and set three exercises for her homework.”
Mrs. Jennals twisted her body around, pointing at Quin with her pen, “I’ll want to see you after the bell, before you disappear to lunch, as well.” Turning her back to the class again, she muttered sarcastically under her breath, “A well earned break, too, I’m sure.”
***
“Hey babe. What’s up?” Trent asked as he seated himself down on the grass, facing Quin who’d propped herself up against the trunk of a tree. She was fiddling with some of the dropped foliage, delicately tearing along the intricate veins of a leaf.
“Hey, c’mon, aren’t you going to talk to me either?” He sighed, leaning across to pull some of her straggling hairs back behind her ears, “I heard about what happened in your class this morning. They’re all dicks, though. Don’t let them get to you.”
There was a long, lingering pause that pulled Trent right to the edge with concern, “Say something, please?”
“I’m sorry,” Quin sighed meekly.
Trent could only sit there staring, a shiver raking down his spine. He half wished she hadn’t said anything then. Her words were so disjointed and mechanical, he got queasy as they replayed themselves in his mind.
He was worried for her. Sure, she’d had her moments of depression before, but this time just took the cake: it was as though she wasn’t even there! Like the vessel that was her body was present, but the mind and spirit that it was supposed to carry had just vanished into thin air.
“Hey, look, babe.” He shuffled himself across the ground to sit close at her side. Hooking an arm around her, he pulled her in. Leaning her head against his chest, he rested his chin on her head as he cradled her indifferent body. “Quin. I’m here for you. Whatever’s up, you can tell me.” Giving her a gentle squeeze, he planted a sympathetic kiss on her hair, “When you’re ready though. I don’t want to pressure you.”
Quin let the mangled leaf drop from her hands. Sighing, she closed her tearing eyes against the strain of her world and lost herself to the comfort of her boyfriend's nurturing arms. Trent hugged her closer when her body suddenly shuddered with a subdued sob she choked back. Burrowing her head deeper into his arms, she tried to lock the rest of the world out.
“Shh… it’s all right,” Trent reassured softly, stroking her trembling back as he kept an eye out for patrolling teachers.
Homecoming ups and downs
*** Monday, July 17, 2006 10 am ***
Sitting behind her desk in her office at Bibliophile, Daye calculated payroll while juggling the telephone receiver on her shoulder. On the other side of the phone Maia gurgled happily to her nanny, a very unsure and timid Mr. Samuel Aubrey. This was Daye’s first official day back at the shop, and so far she’d spent almost an hour of it fielding calls from Sam.
“That’s fine,” Daye said to Sam for what seemed like the hundredth time this call alone, “It’s perfectly normal for it to be that color, Sam. She had spinach for dinner last night.”
"Ok… but… uhm… do you think maybe I should save it for you to see?” Sam’s voice was hesitant.
Daye sighed, “No, Sam, I promise, I don’t need to see that. Why don’t you just take the stroller out and walk Maia to that play group? You’re both supposed to be there in an hour.”
"Yeah… er… well,” Sam stammered, "I’m not sure about that. Do you think I should take her out? Do you think I’m ready for that?”
Daye rolled her eyes. She’d decided in Ireland, before she’d even come home, that Sam was the right person to take care of Maia while she worked, and not just for Maia’s sake. Ever since Mariah’s destruction, Sam had been lost and unsure. Daye had talked to him many times while she was in Ireland and she hadn’t liked what she’d heard. Sam had told her a lot about his past; about his father, and his wife, about the people he’d met in L.A. and the strange things that had happened to him since arriving there. Daye realized that the events in Sam’s life had left him with an almost nonexistent self image. Sam didn’t realize his own value. Daye wanted so much to change all that.
Daye recognized strength and power within Sam that he wasn’t even aware he possessed. She knew that he was a worthy person, and that he deserved more than life had so far given him. Daye was determined to make sure Sam eventually realized his own value. To that end, she had decided to offer him a job, to offer him the most important job she could think of really. Daye had decided to ask Sam to be Maia’s caretaker.
Of course, at first Sam had balked. He’d wanted to do it, Daye could tell, but he’d been unwilling to accept. Sam didn’t think he was the right person for the job. He didn’t think he was smart enough, or capable enough to care for Maia. He’d said so. Daye had convinced him though. She’d simply told him that she believed in him, and that she cared about him, and that really Maia was as much his child as hers. And of course, the clincher had been that Maia wanted him to take care of her. Sam couldn’t refuse Maia. He was too crazy about her.
The only problem with this arrangement that Daye could see was that Sam was still so unsure that he second guessed his every move. He called Daye constantly for reassurance and at some point she was going to have to tell him to stop, before it became too much of a habit.
“I know you’re ready for that,” Daye replied, “Sam, you’re doing fine. Go and have some fun with Maia. Don’t call me again. You don’t need me to tell you what to do.”
"I… uh… right,”Sam still sounded so scared, "I’m sorry if I’m being a pest, Amanda. I know you’re working. I know you’re busy. I just… I don’t know if this was the right decision.”
“Sam, you know how I know you’re the right person for this job?” Daye asked.
”Uh… no… how?”Sam replied.
“I can still hear Maia laughing right now,” Daye said, “She loves you, Sam. Go play with her.”
"Oh… right… I guess you’re right,”Sam sounded surprised. "Thanks, Amanda.”
“Ok, Sam. I’ll be home in a couple of hours,” Daye said, “You can go ahead and go home early tonight. Drew is coming over after he gets done at his parents'. He’s going to watch Maia for me so I can come back and close the shop up tonight. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
"Okay,”Sam said, "I’ll see you in a little while. Bye, Amanda.”
“Bye, Sam.”
Daye hung up the phone, feeling a bit better. If she just kept at it, soon enough Sam would begin to see that she meant what she said. He was a really special person and he was the best thing in the world for Maia, just like she was for him.
After hanging up the phone, Daye returned her full attention to the payroll, putting thoughts of Sam and Maia out of her mind. She focused on the spreadsheets and numbers before her, entering and organizing the information. She was totally engrossed in the task when her office door opened to admit Alicia Wyldling with a man in tow.
Daye glanced up from the computer screen when Mrs. Wyldling came into the room. Standing behind her was a 20-something Asian man with a familiar smile on his face. Rising from her desk, Daye came around, staring at the man.
“Amanda?” the man reached out to take hold of Daye’s hands. “You look lovely.”
“Jimmy?” Daye asked, “Jimmy Han? Is that really you?”
“Sure is, Irish,” Jimmy said, smiling cheekily at her.
Daye couldn’t contain her grin. Jimmy Han had been a student at the English compound at the same time she was. They’d been good friends, and not just because they were the only two students at the time among the handful there that both spoke English. Jimmy’s parents were in the import/export business and owned one of the largest trading companies in Hong Kong. Jimmy had been raised, however, in America - right here in California actually. He was witty and charming, and just a bit too cocky for Daye’s taste. That’s why they’d only ever been friends, although he liked to joke about them being more all the time.
“Tell me you’re delighted to see me, Irish,” Jimmy quipped, dropping into the chair in front of Daye’s desk.
“I would, but then how would you ever get your head back through the office door?” Daye replied, laughing.
Jimmy laughed as well. “Ah, but I know you love me, darling,” he said, “Any day now you’ll profess your adoration and we’ll run away together.”
Daye snorted. “What are you doing here? I thought you were working in Costa Rica or Haiti or something.”
Jimmy tried to look serious, but his eyes sparkled with merriment. “It was actually Barbados,” he said, “I spent almost two years with a clan of voodoo witch doctors. Really interesting stuff, if you want know the truth. I have to say, witch doctors totally know how to party.”
Jimmy said the last with a lecherous wink. Daye laughed again. It was so good to see her friend.
“Ok, fine, you’ve been partying with voodoo practitioners for two years,” she repeated, “Still, why are you here in L.A. now?”
“Actually, I’m in between things,” Jimmy said, “The Council wants me to stick around here for a while and wait for a new assignment. I have some research I’d like to do anyway, so it all works out.”
*** Monday, July 17, 2006 around 11 pm ***
Daye double checked to make sure everything was ready for the morning and then walked to the back room where Jimmy sat at a table, books and papers spread out in a disorganized pile before him. He had a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose and his black hair was mussed. He’d obviously shoved his hands through it more than once as he worked.
“You okay?” Daye asked, coming round the table to stand behind him and glance at his work over his shoulder.
Jimmy looked up, throwing an arm across the notepad he’d been scribbling on. “Yeah, fine,” he replied, “Sorry, this is just a bit more complicated than I had realized. I guess it’s a good thing I haven’t gotten a new assignment yet. This may take me weeks to work out.”
“Do you need any help?” Daye offered.
“No, no,” Jimmy protested, looking a bit panicked, “I should take care of this on my own. Thanks anyway.”
Daye thought her old friend was acting a bit odd, almost as if he didn’t trust her. Still, what could she do? She wasn’t going to pry. Maybe the Council had instructed him to keep his work hush-hush. She wasn’t about to grill him. Each member of the Watchers' Council was entitled to their privacy, and besides, she wasn’t exactly an open book herself. Daye had secrets galore from the Council and even from those members she considered friends, like Mrs. Wyldling.
“Ok, well, if you change your mind I’m sure you can find me,” Daye said, “I’m closing up the shop now, but I’ll leave you the alarm code and the key. Try not to stay up all night, okay?”
“Actually, I was thinking I might just crash here on the sofa,” Jimmy replied, gesturing towards the sofa a few feet away that the employees used while on break.
“No place to stay, huh?” Daye guessed.
Jimmy smiled sheepishly. “No cash, either,” he said.
“What did you do with the stipend?” Daye asked, frowning. Watchers on assignment were always provided with money to secure lodgings and basic necessities. Anything else had to be requisitioned.
“I sort of gambled it away on this boat,” Jimmy grinned, “I never realized how long it takes to sail from Barbados to Los Angeles.”
Daye sighed. “Well, you know if you need a loan, I’ll be happy to help you out.”
“I’m good, Irish,” Jimmy replied, “I got a line on something. Don’t fret about me. I’ll sleep here and I’ll be off on assignment before you know it.”
“Okay, if you want,” Daye agreed. She placed the key and a slip of paper with the alarm code on the table. “Take these in case you need to get in or out after hours. My home number too,” she added, scribbling it on the paper, “If you need anything call.”
“Thanks,” Jimmy stood and followed her to the door, locking it behind her.
*** Wednesday, August 9, 2006 early afternoon ***
“Just leave it there,” Daye instructed the movers. She watched carefully as they set down an antique mirror she’d brought back from Ireland with her. The mirror along with a few other items were her heritage, the objects that had once belonged to the Blaise family and now were left in her care, like the cottage and the castle and the sweet 10-month-old infant pulling herself to her feet using the end table shoved in the corner of the room. Daye smiled fondly at Maia and then at Sam who hovered nearby, looking anxious and proud at the same time. Sam was finally at the point where he could care for the baby and feel competent doing so. That was good for Daye, and for Drew, because they both had jobs to do and they both trusted very few people to care for such a special child.
“You’re not carrying anything, baby,” Drew’s voice crooned in Daye’s ear. She spun around, finding him standing behind her, leaning over a very heavy looking box. He was grinning.
“Sorry,” Daye replied, “I was wool gathering.”
Drew leaned forward and kissed Daye gently before turning to set the box down on one of the few remaining areas of clear space left on the floor. “We’re almost done,” he said.
“Right,” Daye nodded, as the movers came through with the last of the furniture and she pointed out which room to set it in. “And then we can spend the next three months unpacking."
Drew laughed ruefully. “No, love, that’s why we both took the week off,” he said. “So, we can actually have this place set up before we have to head back to work.”
“It won’t take us that long,” Sam piped up from the corner where he was scooping Maia up off the floor, “We’ll have the house in tip top shape before you know it.”
“Sam, I believe it,” Drew said, coming over to take the baby from the other man, “You work like a demon.”
“A… a… what?” Sam’s eyes had grown wide at Drew’s words.
Drew guffawed. “Don’t worry, Sam. Just a figure of speech.”
“Ma… ma… ma… ma…,” Maia struggled in Drew’s arms, reaching for Daye. Daye smiled and took her, cooing at the little girl. Her large dark eyes watched the men as they began to move boxes and furniture around, setting the place to rights. Daye stroked the baby’s red gold curls and directed Drew and Sam around the house.
This new house would become a home for Maia, and for the rest of them as well. Daye had always wanted a family and now by some miracle she had one. She had Maia, her beautiful, special daughter, and Drew, the man she loved as much for his willingness to accept Maia as for his love and acceptance of Daye herself, and Sam, dear sweet Sam, the brother she’s never had, but was always meant to.
The house had been a necessity, because Daye’s two bedroom Alhambra apartment had grown too small as soon as they had come home from Ireland. Drew hadn’t understood why Daye wanted Sam to continue to live with them. He hadn’t seen any reason why Daye felt connected to Sam, but he’d wanted to understand, been willing to try and make it work. Drew and Sam were both wary of each other at first, but now they had become friends, although tentative ones.
Daye was proud of this little family she’d built. She and Drew were closer than ever, and Sam was gaining confidence every day. Now, with the house, they would all be comfortable too. Soon everything would be unpacked and they might even have a day or two to relax before going back to work on Monday. Daye couldn’t wait. For the first time since losing her mother, she really had a home.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
26th July 2006 - 3pm
Ripper lay curled up into a small ball dreaming of someone else’s life...
The fire-blackened bones cracked and crumbled underneath his boot, and Ripper twisted his heel a little, just to savour the sound. The acrid smell of burned flesh hung in the air, along with a rapidly dissipating haze of smoke. He inhaled it deeply, tasting it on his tongue, and his lips curled back over his white, even teeth in a feral grin. His name had been Morgan, or Mortigan, or some other ridiculous thing along those lines. His name didn't really matter, anyway, not now. He'd been a Kailiff demon. Tall, strong, dark skinned, with thick little horns and knobs jutting proudly from his face. Thick lips, irises so dark brown that they appeared black. Better than the last one. Harder to kill, and he'd put up a valiant struggle. But the Kailiff demon hadn't really stood a chance, because he'd taken something that belonged to Ripper.
The vampire cocked his head slightly, listening intently to the sounds in the woods surrounding the Kailiff's home. Somewhere to the south - no, southwest - a twig snapped, and something rustled through the trees. Ripper's eyes, well adjusted to the black nights of the remote wilderness, caught a flash of white, nude skin, and then it was gone again, the pale face vanishing back into the cover of the forest.
"You can't run forever, Kate," Ripper called out, directing his voice toward the trees. It echoed and came back to him as a whispered promise of destruction.
To the southwest there was sound, like a deer sprinting away from the frightening sound of his voice. Ripper smiled as he slipped off his coat, pulled his t-shirt over his head, kicked off his boots and flung his socks after them. He bounced once, lightly, on the bare balls of his feet, curled and quickly unfurled his fists, and then sprinted toward the tree line where he'd seen her face.
The darkness was deep, and it seemed there were infinite hours still remaining in the night. Somewhere in the cover of the trees, a pale, naked deer fled from the smell of burned flesh, and not far behind her, the wolf pursued.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Friday July 28th
1:00 pm
Introducing Jenna Elfman as Elise Hunt.
“I hope you listen to this… well, hmm… This is Ernie here, Alessa, please don’t try to contact your niece until I talk to you. Come to see me as soon as you can. I have something to tell you.”
Alessa frowned as she pushed the “repeat” button to listen for the second time to her friend’s voice on the answering machine. The message had been waiting for her when she got home from school. It was most unusual for Ernie to call her like this and the distress in his voice was obvious. Sitting down she pondered what could have happened for him to have asked her to go to his place on such short notice. Sighing, she proceeded to change her clothes and get something to eat. She would travel to Ernie’s after lunch.
******
“What!?” Alessa asked of Ernie with her eyes wide open, “She’s a what!?”
“A Hunter. Your niece is a Hunter; well a Huntress, really.” Ernie sighed as he watched his friend's worried face. He had known since he had first seen Elise Hunt’s picture that there was something strange with that woman. His Watcher’s instinct had proven trustworthy in the past so he had continued investigating her. He had not been mistaken - he had discovered a few interesting things about Elise Hunt, and some others that he didn’t want to tell the woman in front of him.
They were walking along the beach in front of Ernie’s house. The day was beautiful and Alessa had taken her shoes off and was mid-calf into the ocean’s water. However, at Ernie’s words she had stopped and was watching him with puzzled eyes.
“Come girl,” he said, leading her and sitting on the dry sand. He closed his eyes and tiredly opened them again. “Have you ever heard of the Society of Ulle?”
“No…”
“Well, they aren’t very well known and they value their privacy so it’s not surprising that you haven’t. The Society of Ulle is a "Hunters' Society" formed back in the 15th century, during the Spanish Inquisition. Although they really are a very loose alliance that preys mostly on 'supernatural' beings.” He paused a moment, letting her digest the news. “That’s why I wanted you to know.”
“And you say that Elise is one of them?” she babbled, “But why? I thought she and her brother were 'normal' people…”
Ernie laughed at that. “Well dear, the Society hunters consider themselves 'normal' people... As to why, I understand these hunters vary in their reasons to join the Society, but in your niece’s case I think I can bet on her motives.” Alessa watched him with inquiring eyes and Ernie sighed before answering, “Her parents were killed by vampires when she was a child.”
“Vampires…” she said with hatred. Again these creatures had managed to get into her life. She dismissed the thought with a shake of her head. She had to consider this new information; if her niece was a huntress that preyed on supernatural beings she wouldn’t welcome a half demon aunt. She would have to think in a whole new approach to the problem of contacting her - because she still wanted to contact the girl. She wouldn’t let something like that prevent her from meeting her kin.
“Well, Ernie, thank you for the information, but I still want to contact her. I’ll have to think about a new approach though.”
“There’s something more, Alessa.” The man paused in doubt but continued talking. His brown eyes were full of concern for the woman in front of him. “Those vampires - the ones who killed your niece and nephew’s parents - well, they are still around in L.A. It seems that Elise is driven by revenge.”
“And do you blame her?” the woman said fiercely, “If my father had been killed by vampires I would have done the same. I spent years looking for the vampires that killed Morris.”
“You see, that’s the second thing that I wanted to tell you,” he interrupted, “Elise and Alec’s grandfather was your father’s younger brother, right?” At Alessa’s nod, Ernie continued, “Apparently he was the target of the vampires’ attack, the rest of the family were only casualties. The children were saved because they were on a fair with their grandmother. Elise was eight and Alec two.”
Alessa made some maths in her head, “That would be 22 years ago, about the same time Morris got killed… do you imply they were killed by the same vampires?”
“Not really,” Ernie continued, “reports tell me that the leader of the gang was a mature-looking vampire, with terrible burn scars. He seemed to be mad.” Ernie waited silently while the news sank in her, but she was shaking her head in denial.
“No, it can't be. I saw Morris' body, he was killed that night. And anyway, what reason could he have for killing my family? No, it can't be,” she repeated still shaking her head.
Ernie sighed, “I’m not telling you that it was Morris that night. I find it extremely strange not to have heard of him ever since if that was so. It’s just that coincidences bother me, and the thought crossed my mind.” He paused a moment, deep in thought. “However, you say that you saw his body that night. Are you sure it was him?”
This time Alessa had to admit he had a point. She hadn’t been able to recognize Morris’ body. It had been burnt beyond recognition but she had assumed it was him because he was the only one in their cabin that night. Alessa closed her eyes and remembered.
*****
Iguazú Rain forest.
(in the border between Paraguay, Brazil and Argentina)
22 years ago.
Introducing Harrison Ford as Morris Giles
She was running, the light of the fire in front of her calling her like a beacon light. *Morris. I’ve got to get to Morris,* was all she could think as the branches of the bushes around her hit her face and arms. She was taking a shortcut across the rainforest so she could get home faster. Maniac laughter sounded in her keen ears, but she knew there was a long way to run yet. Their cabin was in the edge of the rainforest, facing the Iguazú falls and she had been deep down the forest under the waterfalls, with her kind.
She had been training in her shape shifting skills until she had been interrupted by Shongu, her grandfather. He had told her Morris was in danger and had set her on her way to the cabin. He hadn’t offered his help though, and Alessa hadn’t wanted to ask for any. She knew that the Verbati had survived that long because they were almost unknown to the outside world. For many years she had regretted that decision, and the bitterness she had felt for Shongu had taken long to erase. If only her kind would have helped her…
When she got to the edge of the forest the scene that waited her was straight from hell. The cabin was burning and she could hear to Morris’ screams inside. She had rushed to help him but was interrupted by a vampire, and almost without thinking she had fought him but she wasn’t prepared. There were no vampires in the jungle and she didn’t have any stakes on her. Soon they overwhelmed her and she became frantic as sounds from the cabin ceased to reach her. Without effort she took her kind’s form. She could see the look in her enemies' eyes and delighted in it. Verbatii were big ugly hairy demons. *Now the odds are even,* she thought as she charged again.
However by the time she had finally dusted most of them and scared the rest away, the cabin had became a living hell. She had crouched to her knees between vampire dust piles, and watched it be eaten to the ground by the fire, no longer hopeful of finding her lover alive. In the morning, she had sorted out the remnants of the once beautiful wooden cabin and under the debris she had found a charred body. Rain mingled with her tears as she buried him in the cliff’s edge, facing the view he had loved so much.
********
Coming back to the present, she looked into the warm eyes of his friend, and bowed her head.
“No,” she answered, “I cannot be completely sure he was Morris - but I can’t believe he was turned that night.” She shook her head and looked into his eyes. “As you said, we would have heard something in all these years.”
“Stranger things have happened,” was Ernie’s answer. At that, Alessa had to agree.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
28th July, 2006 - 9:09pm
WWWWWWWUUUUUUSHHHHHHH
Before the vamp could make a tasty treat out of Chance, a red blinding light began to emanate from his beaten body and suddenly exploded outwards, knocking the surrounding bloodsuckers back.
Although he was breathing heavy from the strain of the spell, Cole Matthews did not hesitate a second before running through the crowd of vampires now getting back to their feet and making his way next to Chance, lying on the ground.
“Aw shit buddy, wake up!” Cole urged as he took another deep breath in preparation for his next spell.
Closing his eyes, the young teen raised his arms high into the air, while his fingers began tracing glowing glyphs in the air. As his Sumerian chanting grew louder, the floating sigils began to radiate even brighter, until they were now surrounding every direction around Chance and himself. Turning once again to the fallen man, he was now frantically trying to bring him back to consciousness.
“Dude, you have to wake up!” - hard nudge - “Please, just wake up!” - harder nudge. Fear was beginning to painfully lodge itself in Cole’s stomach. He knew the more time it took for the man to come around, the more time the vamps had to beat on his wards of protection.
"Fuck, WAKE UP!"
Chance groaned. He groaned again. And, as if just to prove that everything does come in threes, he groaned once more.
A large gash on his head was gushing blood from where he hit his head on the floor. The darkness had begun to fade, but his vision was still spinning like a drunken sailor and so could return at any moment.
He looked up at his… well, savoir would be an accurate description. At first he thought he must be hallucinating, but, no. He was right. It was a kid. Of all things, a kid! No more than 16 he guessed, if that, not even old enough to be out of school. Grungy clothes hung from his body and, to be honest, he smelt almost as bad as the alley.
Had Chance been more conscious, he would probably have been thinking something along the lines of ‘Jesus, is this the level I’ve fallen to; being rescued by some kid?’ As it was, most of his mind was devoted to the fairies and lights that were dancing in front of his eyes.
Despite the situation, Chance smiled. Then he heard a voice, as if from far away, calling to him to wake up. The more he focused on it, the stronger it became, until he could hear quite clearly: “Wake up! C’mon, c’mon! Wake up!”
Chance giggled. He was awake, wasn’t he? He thought so. But it appeared the kid couldn’t read his mind, so he attempted to speak.
“Blurg,” was all that came out. Odd, his tongue felt like a sponge and his mouth wasn’t answering his brain. He tried again. “Flurlewurgle! Fleeblehoopy!”
After many babbling attempts, Chance managed to regain control of his voice, and, in success, promptly shouted the first thing that came to mind, “Look at all the pretty fairies!”
The kid took a moment out of casting a spell to glare at Chance with a look that wondered whether he was sane or not. Chance didn’t care. He had already fallen unconscious with a smile on his lips that suggested he was away with the fairies.
“Damnit!” Cole screamed as he saw Chance fall once again into blissful darkness. Even if he could manage another spell to somehow clear a path long enough, he was by no means strong enough to lift the ‘damsel in distress’ and carry him to safety. To make matters worse, the bloodsuckers were now beginning to pound relentlessly on his barrier, each hit causing a blinding pain in Cole’s head.
“Great, I’m going to die right now, saving some idiot who doesn’t even have the decency to wake up and thank me for trying to save his sorry ass.”
Vincent watched the chaos unfold from across the street, leaning against a lamppost and pondering whether to stay back and watch how it ended or go help. James had been missing for days now and yesterday this guy called Chance phones up and asks for James’ help. *So Skippy, in his divine wisdom, sends me out alone to meet this guy and now he’s getting his ass kicked by ten-something vamps.*
Vincent made his way over to the vampires slowly with his hands in his 700-dollar suit. “Hey, vamp boy!” he called.
As the vampires turned their heads Vincent drew a pistol and aimed it at one, who began to laugh, “Aw, come on kid. You know we are vamps, you should at lest know guns don’t work."
Vincent gave a boyish grin and opened fire. The bullets missed the vampire's body by a mile and hit his legs, “But I know you can’t heal the wounds instantly.“ He discarded the weapon and reached inside his suit to pull out an electrified spring baton and began for them.
That would be a good distraction, Alessa thought as she watched the young man head towards the bunch of vampires. They had forgotten about their previous prey in their rage at somebody daring to attack them. She could see from where she stood that the boy was straining with the magic barrier, or whatever he had forged, to protect himself and the fainted man from the vampires. She knew the vampires would not see her - she now was pitch black, only her green eyes shining in her dark face, so she ran towards the two men.
As she reached the invisible barrier, she put a hand towards it. It felt soft but it didn’t yield. It was like touching iron cotton. As soon as she touched the stuff, she saw the boy inside turn towards her with a hand raised in defence.
He was pale and his lips were white with the strain, but there was a look of fierce determination in his eyes that changed into puzzlement as he saw her crouching besides his magical wall.
*Where the hell did she come from?* Cole wondered. One minute nothing but shadows, then this odd woman with odd eyes. Not to mention the guy waving the gun and stun baton around. This was getting weird.
Cole raised his arms, already working on another spell. It wouldn’t be easy; he was already worn out from the barrier and he would have a major hangover the next morning, and that wouldn’t be fun. If keeping off a bunch of vampires wasn’t enough, now he had to deal with this chick, whoever or whatever she was. Looking down at the guy, Cole wondered just how deep in the shit he was.
His dry mouth breathed the words, and his heavy and sluggish hands went through the motions. Already Cole’s head was pounding, and it could only get worse.
No, not gonna be fun at all.
Vincent flew in to the fray, swinging the baton wildly at the vampire’s heads, hitting them with precision; each strike sent the vampires sprawling across the street.
As he headed towards the two guys he noticed a woman heading towards them. This momentary lapse in concentration allowed a vampire to get behind Vincent and punch him in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground hard. He turned to see the vampire who struck him from behind and saw a boot coming down towards his face. Vincent raised his hand in defence, stopping the vampire's boot a foot from his face. He sent a telekinetic blast, slamming off the vampire’s left kneecap and blowing out his knee. The vampire fell limply to the ground curling up into a ball holding his knee.
Alessa could tell by the look in the boy’s eyes that he had dismissed her. Annoyed, she punched the barrier with all her strength, and the boy grimaced in pain. *Good, I’ve got your attention now,* Alessa thought. She didn’t want to shout or the vampires could notice her.
“I want to help,” she said voicelessly, modulating her lips for the boy to understand her anyway.
She could see that he didn’t know what to do. He looked to the unconscious man at his feet and at her, his dilemma was obvious.
*Help? She wants to help? Okay… getting weirder,* Cole thought. What he said was, “Uhh… fine.” He looked at the other guy going toe-to-toe with the vampires, now conveniently distracted from both him and Unconscious Guy, who had ceased his mumbling and looked to be well away. The woman continued to look at him, as if he was in charge or something. This was so not what he signed up for.
“Yeah. I’ll get him out of here,” Cole said, gently kicking Unconscious Guy with his foot, “If you can keep these vamps off my ass-“
“No problem,” the woman said, cutting him off and already moving towards the fight.
Cole shook his head and reached down towards the guy, but he was too heavy for him to lift on his own, not with the strain of maintaining the barrier. So he put his trust into two strangers, one who Cole vaguely recognised from high school.
No longer forced to put his effort into the spell, Cole was able to pick the guy up by the shoulders and drag him a few feet. It soon became clear they were not going anywhere fast. At least, not fast enough to get away from the vamps.
*Ok, so you are more worried about the vampires, ha?* Alessa thought, assessing the fight with trained eyes, *Well, you should.* The young man was having a very uneven fight there. He had managed to hamper some of the vamps but they were too many and they were closing on him. *Ok, let’s go to work,* she thought as she took her well-trusted wooden stake in her hand. Silently she stood up and approached the bunch of vampires.
With non-human speed she approached the closest vamp and without him even noticing her she punched her stake through his heart. The vamp exploded in dust, making her eyes water like it always did; she didn’t let it stop her and she advanced towards the next creature, trying to use the most of her element of surprise before they noticed her.
*Well, element of surprise finished,* she thought as a very mean looking vampire turned to face her. She saw surprise in his malformed eyes, and hesitation. She took advantage of that as she kicked him in the middle of the chest, sending him flying backwards. In that moment another vamp approached her from the left. Alessa didn’t even look at him while she hit him with her stake. *Another one bites the dust,* she chanted to herself, and jumped forward to attack yet another.
Vincent got to his feet and rapidly reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a rather large spring-loaded throwing glave. He tossed it towards the nearest vampire and used his telekinesis to guide it to its target, taking off the vampire’s head. As the glave headed towards the next vampire it exploded in mid air. Vincent turned to find himself facing a massive posse of demons all sporting tattoos earrings and leather. Definitely not a good mix.
She was so absorbed in her fighting that Alessa hadn’t noticed that they were being circled by a bunch of strange looking creatures. As the last vampire she was fighting with dissolved into dust, she saw them. *Oh, mother,* she thought, fear clutching her heart.
Cole gave up trying to carry Unconscious Guy the minute he first saw the vampires. This was getting worse with every passing second, and there was no sign of it getting better. Straightening himself, he prepared for another spell. It would hurt like hell but, looking on the bright side, he could be dead pretty damned soon.
Out of the crowd of vampires, demons and what appeared to be humans a small Asian figure emerged. The vampire looked up and smiled at Vincent, "Hey, kid. Looks like you could use a hand."
Vincent looked into the eyes of the Asian vampire and gave a boyish grin. "Ajuvee, could you take care of these Lost Boys rejects for me? I have to talk to that guy over there," he pointed towards the knocked out Chance.
Alessa heard clearly in the now silent street. A small Asian-looking vampire was talking to the young man she had been helping. Obviously they knew each other. Relieved, she heard the man speak in a friendly manner to the Asian vampire.
Vincent turned and made his way towards Chance. Behind him mass amounts of Harbingers were attacking the ‘Lost Boys rejects’. When Vincent reached the woman he spoke, "It would be wise for us to all make a hasty retreat."
It was with some amazement Cole watched as the two gangs fell into a bitter and bloody vampire civil war or something. Not ground was spared, and they fought tooth and claw. He stood almost paralysed as he watched, and it wasn’t until the woman and the guy he swore he knew from school approached him that he was able to snap out of it.
The sound of the fight behind them was calming; as long as the vampires were battling each other they would not come for them. Alessa impatiently shoved apart the men and boy who were trying to carry the unconscious man, and without effort she hauled him and put him onto her shoulder.
“Where should we be going?” she asked the two open-mouthed men.
“We’ve gotta get him out of here, that’s for sure,” Cole said, his voice hurried and nervous. He knew something was up with that woman. But it wasn’t just her supernatural strength that had him worried, more to do with the vampire war.
Vincent nodded, his boyish features twisted into a frown. “You’re right. Somebody’s gunning for him, and he might be able to help… a friend of mine. We can’t take him back to mine or his place, somebody’s going to be watching, so we’re gonna have to go somewhere else.”
“Probably not best to give him to me. I… have a room mate and I won’t be able to protect both of them,” Cole said.
The two paused for a minute, looked at each other, then turned to Alessa.
Obviously they didn’t want to go to their places. Well, she didn’t want to go to hers either, but she agreed with the boy that they needed to get out of there. The battle behind them was enough for now to keep the vamps occupied but it wouldn’t last forever. She shifted the burden on her shoulder and looked down to the unconscious man’s face. He looked terrible. He was bleeding from a big slash in his forehead and his eyes were swollen and already getting purple. He moaned and she made up her mind.
“Let’s go to my place,” she said, “I’m new around here and nobody knows me.” And looked the men in the eye.
She noticed that the older one watched her with knowing eyes. She had seen him use some kind of telekinetic power and wondered if he had some kind of telepathy too. She looked at him even in the eye and after a while he nodded.
*Ok,* she thought, *there goes my new “normal” life.* After coming to LA she had promised to herself that she wouldn’t get involved in any kind of supernatural trouble, she had wanted to live a normal life. However, when she had heard the sounds of the fight, she hadn’t been able to prevent herself from investigating. Her always present hatred for vampires winning over her resolutions, she had rushed to help the humans. And here she was now, leading three unknown men – well, two overgrown boys and a fainted man was more accurate - to her place.
Alessa set off at a steady pace between a jog and a walk. Cole and Vincent easily kept up, scanning for danger or looking over their shoulders back towards the fight.
“Name's Cole, by the way. Cole Matthews,” Cole said after they had gone a block and were somewhat safer than beforehand.
“Alessa. Nice to fight with you, Cole,” she said with a smile.
“Vincent,” he simply said, never taking his eyes off the shadows.
“Any idea who he is?” Cole said, nodding at Unconscious Guy.
Alessa looked over her shoulder at him, caught between concern and amusement. “You mean you don’t know? But you were with him…”
Cole looked uncomfortable and shrugged, “Uhh… naw not really. I just kinda, helped y’know?”
She nodded and turned back.
“His name is Chance,” Vincent said after a minute.
Cole smiled, “Chance. What name is that?”
But Alessa said, “How do you know him, Vincent?”
“He knows my… friend, who’s gone missing. I’m hoping he’ll know where he is,” Vincent said without looking at her.
“Fair enough,” she said.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Cole asked Vincent after a few more feet, “I mean, don’t you go to my school?”
Vincent turned to him and looked him over twice. “Yeah, maybe,” he said, rubbing his chin, “Small world isn’t it?”
Cole sniggered, “Lucky for him it is.” He pointed at Chance.
They moved on in silence, Alessa leading and carrying Chance without signs of much effort. Her apartment was about a dozen blocks from Bob’s, she had told them. Cole didn’t know where that was, but he’d heard of it in passing. Vincent knew exactly where it was, and became even more alert.
But, despite his misgivings, it was a nice place. Spanish style, the two rows of apartments had a swimming pool in the centre. Vincent raised his eyebrows and Cole looked down at himself, trying to imagine what a resident here would think of a scruffy kid like him. Alessa didn’t seem to care what anybody thought of her carrying an unconscious man to her room with the ease somebody might do a cat and leading two kids, one dirty one clean, behind her.
At her door, she leaned Chance against a wall and reached into her pocket for the keys. Opening it, she looked at Cole and Vincent. “You coming or going?”
Vincent shook his head. “Going. I’ve got other things to do than baby-sit him. I’ll drop round in the morning though. We need to talk.”
Alessa nodded, “Sure, ok. What about you, Cole?”
The kid chewed his lip for a minute whilst indecisive. “Staying. You never know, somebody might have followed us. And two have better odds rather than one.”
“Well, looks like it’s going to be a party. Come on in.” She stood aside to let him in, then bent down to pick up Chance, “It was nice meeting you Vincent. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yeah, see you,” Cole said from inside.
Vincent nodded. “Be careful,” he said, then walked off down the corridor. Alessa carried Chance inside then shut the door.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Day Five – G’rnatha
Several hours before G'rnathan Dawn
The massive crater a few hundred yards distant wasn't so imposing as it had been from several hundred feet in the air. It gently steamed like a boiling cauldron. *Which I suppose it is,* thought Victor, *The pit where all G'rnathan Battle Fiends end their existences. A Dantean Hell with only one sin. Soullessness.*
He wandered over to the ridge that dropped away into the mists on the other side. Victor peered over the edge into the swirl of fog that ended at a magma-fueled furnace that would reduce any matter thrown into it into raw materials to be recycled. Gaping maws like these had reduced hundreds of worlds to slag and component minerals.
He glanced back over his shoulder at the sleeping group. Dawn would come soon and they would find his note. He shuddered at how Tash would react. *I am sorry, my love,* he thought at her. He hoped that her telepathy would register it in her dreams.
Looking back into the maw, he stepped over the edge and began to slide down the shale and gravel slopes into the mists below. He was headed to the core of the world where the Creators hid beneath layers of debris, armies and factories. He was going back to where he had started millennia ago.
*****
Day Five – G’rnatha
Dawn
Once more Tash rolled over to find Victor no longer by her side. Every night she went to sleep wrapped in his arms – being careful now not to impale herself on any of his spikes – and every morning she woke alone. She glanced around the cave quickly in case he was deep in meditation at the back, as he had been some mornings.
There was no sign of him, so she made her way to the mouth of this night’s cave to peer out. Something – some fragment of dream, perhaps – made her wonder this morning where he was, more so than other mornings. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
The others were still sleeping soundly, the gentle susurration of multi-toned snores echoing through the rocky interior. Tash shrugged and moved to what they jokingly termed the ‘breakfast nook’. It was nothing more than a depression in the rock where they had rested their filled water containers and what pieces of G’rnathan meat they had scavenged. As she reached out for one of the containers a corner of paper caught her eye. It was a roadmap of Los Angeles, but she recognised Victor’s scrawl on the back.
A minute later the other occupants of the cave were rudely awakened by Tash’s screech. “That stupid, bloody bastard! Of all the idiotic, moronic… Aarrrrggghhh!” she ended wordlessly in frustration.
Rubbing the sleep tiredly from her eyes, Reah directed her gaze to Tash, vision changing from thermographic as she did so. “Yeah, morning Tash. I take it you had a good sleep?” she moaned, struggling around a yawn.
Darian was quicker to get up than his blonde haired companion. Rising to his feet, the fae rushed over to Tash's side. "Tash, what’s wrong?" he asked worriedly.
Tash was too furious to speak, instead waving the note towards Darian. He grabbed her wrist to steady it and read aloud:
“Friends,
The silence in the cave was deafening after Darian finished reciting the note. Alice, Reah, Nikolai and Darian all looked at each other and at Tash, who was too busy staring at the ground and pounding the rock with her fist to look back at them.I hate to do this, especially in this inhospitable and forsaken place. I am headed out on my own to attempt to resolve this ‘destiny’ that I have been burdened with. I am going to attempt to contact Z’thrukaht on my own and force him to release you from this world.
After that, if I still survive, I will confront my god Ghortab in his Temple. He and I have unfinished business.
Please let me do this alone, there is no need for you to continue to risk yourselves on my behalf.
Tash, my wife, I love you and wish this could be done another way. I know you will be mad but I can’t see any way for me to get close to Z’thrukaht with you accompanying me. I have to go alone.
Be sensible! Don’t risk yourselves for me! My life is not worth the loss of any of yours.
Victor.
”Reah stared, frowning at the note still in Darian's hand after he'd finished reciting. Suddenly her attention snapped to something as Darian made the slightest movement, lowering the note. She caught glimpse of something on the back as a small breath of air softly wisped it up. "What's that? On the back?"
Back pains. Several very interesting ones, Nikolai thought as he was awakened by screaming. His weapon was instinctively out, expecting an attack, then just as quickly put away. Listening to Victor’s note, the word ‘nichevo’ occurred in his mind again, as they were not likely to blend in. If Victor didn’t need the help, there was no reason for the Creator to keep them alive - all he had to do was tell Victor he had sent them home, then kill the lot of them.
“Looks like a map,” he said, blatantly stating the obvious while looking at the other side of the note. Hand drawn. “Maybe, if we’re lucky, we can find Victor before Zathrus decides it’s easier to eliminate us.”
Alice got up, quickly dumped her stuff back in her bag. *This can wait.* She walked over to Tash, lifted her by the arm and shouted at the rest of the group, “Well, get your asses moving! We can’t save Vic from himself if you’re just sitting there.”
Shaken out of her impotent fury, Tash rose and collected her gear. She snatched the paper from Darian’s hand and cast her eyes over the hastily scribbled map. “Stupid, stupid bastard,” she muttered.
“Ok, Alice is right. Whoever’s coming, get on. The Monitor is leaving right now. No time for breakfast, no time for stragglers. I’ve got to catch up to him.”
Darian was first to react as he began to jog towards the immobile Monitor. "No time to waste then," he called out to those behind, as he jumped on board and prepared for a speedy chase.
A familiar pressure let Tash know that their 'host' was trying to get through, "Not The now VTK you unit nosy is bastard! no longer in your vicinity." The words tumbled out of Tash's throat and she began to cough as her voice and his fought for the use of the same vocal cords.
She powered a thought at Z'thrukaht to hold him off while she recovered. Then she relaxed to let the words come out in the proper order. "The VTK Unit. It is no longer in your vicinity. What has happened?"
"Such astounding powers of observation you have," Nikolai said rather sarcastically to the Creator, "If you would allow us to collect our prodigal son, we'll get him to his objective that much quicker. Now is not a good time." Truth be told, he was still pissed off at the Creator's failure to grasp such basic concepts as: you may have to take risks to be successful. *And he thinks he's an advanced species.*
Z'thrukaht ignored Nikolai's impertinence and he waited for an answer from the only other being he recognised in this group.
Tash could feel him waiting, allowing her the use of her own vocal cords. So she used them. "No, he's no longer in this vicinity. And the longer you delay us, the longer it’s going to take us to catch up with him. The stupid arsehole has decided to go off by himself. He’s taken the Stone and set off without us. He said he’d attempt to contact you directly, so God alone knows who he might have alerted by now if he’s tried.”
She glanced down at the map in her hand. “This may be the route he’s planning to take. Can the Monitor handle it? We won’t catch him without it.”
Tash felt more than heard the alarmed thought, *That will take him near...* before it was consciously cut off. "No. The Monitor is not equipped for underground travel. It is more suited to overland routes. If he is headed to Ghortab's factory you can intercept him there. It should be a reasonably simple matter to reach that objective rather than to pursue the VTK unit through the manufacturing levels."
Overhead views, maps and images of overland travel appeared in Tash's mind sufficiently clearly for her to navigate to the temple. Some of the overhead views showed hordes of Battle Fiends marching out of gaping wounds in the landscape - factory entrances. The crystalline tower of the Temple of Ghortab loomed over the collection of steaming, yawning holes.
“The Battle Fiends are not programmed to be aggressive unless directed by a Monitor. Offworlders seeking our… services… are usually accompanied by a Monitor to broadcast a “stand down” signal to the other Monitors. However, the region surrounding the Ghortab factory is full of VTK units that may react unpredictably.”
Tash smiled grimly. “Well, thanks for the advice,” she said before slamming up the walls between her and Z’thrukaht, cutting him off. *Heh. Yeah, I’ve been watching you and learning a thing or two, buddy.*
She held eye contact with each of the others for a second before saying, “He doesn’t want us to go underground. I think he was lying about the Monitor being unable to fit. He’s given me detailed overland maps to the Temple, but I for one vote the direct route – following Victor.”
Nikolai considered carefully - the Creator had so far done nothing to inspire confidence that he really cared about them in any way other than completing the mission. "Following Victor may be the safe bet. I trust tovarisch Creator about as far as I could throw Victor." Which was to say, not very. "But if the Monitor really cannot fit, we should consider overland as an alternative then."
"I reckon we should at least try to cram the thing down there," Reah thought for a moment, "Or we could even split! Some by land, others by Victor... I could likely keep a steady pace. But it also depends: we have no directions for underground, nor do we know if it's going to turn out to be a labyrinth." She nodded to herself, "I think Tash's plan to stick together would be the safest."
“We do have a map,” Tash waved Victor’s hand drawn sketch, “albeit a rough one. And I caught a glimpse of something before Z’thrukaht told us the Monitor wouldn’t fit. That glimpse included an impression of space. Plenty of it. That Monitor should fit fine. Those of you who are with me, I’m leaving now.”
Tash grabbed her gear and strode out of the cave in a beeline for the Monitor, the precious map clutched in her hand. She could hear footsteps behind her and smiled broadly to herself.
Grumbling to herself, Reah snatched up her sword and followed up behind Tash, *I should really just remove my mouth. I bloody noticed the damn thing first too!*
Nikolai slowly shook his head as he bolted for the Monitor. He figured Tash would probably be off as soon as she got on, with or without anyone else.
Alice took up the rear, and with a helping hand from Darian was up on the beast. "After Tash, I get to kick Victor’s ass."
[/]Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Day Five – G’rnatha
Hours before G'rnathan Dawn
Looking back into the maw, Victor stepped over the edge and began to slide down the shale and gravel slopes into the mists below. He was headed to the core of the world where the Creators hid beneath layers of debris, armies and factories. He was going back to where he had started millennia ago.
Reclamation pits were deep holes that pierced the crust. Hundreds of meters across and often several kilometers deep they became dumping grounds for waste rock and raw materials. In the bottom there were flows of magma that destroyed the bonds of the materials and reduced them to base components. Massive earthen bellows drew in the magma and pumped it through processing organs that only the Creators understood.
Victor clung to the inside of the rocky crater, his normal sheen of yellowish slime now a flakey crust revealing the dull green armor beneath. He had been climbing in the dark for what seemed like hours but he knew that time here always felt longer than it really was. He estimated he had been climbing for barely an hour.
The Stone of Ghortab was makeshift slung on his back with the remains of the seatbelt webbing. He had tied it into a crude backpack. If his hunch was correct he would need it once he arrived at his mission objective.
He could see to the top of the crater nearly a kilometer above and the wisps of blowing fog lapping over the side, but the heat from below made the fog cringe and burn away leaving the view clear and unobstructed into the night sky.
He had never looked at the stars of G’rnatha before. They were beautiful. Bright and sprayed in an arc across the sky like the Milky Way only closer and more distinct. Victor moved his foot down a rock and felt around for a hold. Finding none, he turned his eyes from the unexpected beauty in the sky to the harsh reality of his descent into the fiery pit.
Victor realized he had been scaling down an outcropping of rock. A meter further down would leave him dangling from the edge with nothing to grab. He pulled back up and began to carefully crawl sideways around the lip of the outcropping to get to a place where he could crawl down further.
*It is around here somewhere. These things may move but not often.* He could still remember following the slow-moving drilling beast through the crust until it broke free into the crater and fell to its planned end in the magma pit more than two millennia ago. His escape through a new tunnel was a move the ever-seeking monitors had never expected.
There it was. He could see that the outcropping had been constructed to conceal the entrance. This was likely a tunnel used for disposal. Deep under the crust from here would be the massive chambers he had walked through. Idly, Victor wondered what the final use of the chambers would be: manufacturing plant, storage, or perhaps a massive boiler to process magma into energy and the raw building blocks of G’rnathan Battle Fiends.
Victor moved up to a silent and distance-eating jog through the tunnel. His vision picked up the nuances of surface and the odd bit of debris littering the hallway. He was not impressed by the size or distance of the tunnel as it widened in places to allow tunnels to join (or leave depending on the point of view) the main tunnel. He stayed true to the course he had set. He was headed straight towards the Temple of Ghortab.
The tunnel stayed more or less four meters wide for long stretches until it finally narrowed down to a sphincter that looked so much like an anus that it made Victor smirk mentally, *Waste tube. Of course.* It was clear that the Creators had not totally lost their sense of humor.
He pushed at the “anus” and was rewarded by the gentle elastic stretching he was expecting to find. Victor slipped through the opening with a slight feeling of awkwardness *They would never think to look this way for intruders.*
The other side was a marvelous wonderland of sights. The huge chamber that Victor had picked his way through in the dark had been transformed over the centuries into a living menagerie of special purpose life forms and remarkably frivolous creatures alike.
Light streamed from bioluminescent balloons that floated casually around the upper parts of the chambers. Elaborate birdlike creatures that looked like flying leathery handkerchiefs darted around the mushroom-like growths that hung upside down from the ceiling and opened and closed in waves to circulate the air. Leafy frond-shaped growths filled the floor of the chamber. He inspected one and it appeared to be more like plastic than plant. *All appearance and no substance,* he thought.
Large black columns stood in stark contrast to the delicate flowery patches of growth at their bases. The columns were not straight but rather had a sculpted look about them as if some massive lathe had turned spindles of stone then heated and cooled them quickly leaving a spidery network of grooves and cracks.
At the center of these columns a man-sized blob undulated. It slowly oozed from shape to shape like an otherworldly analog of a lava-lamp. Several small and furry creatures with long, multi-jointed arms sat on their haunches around it as if in homage. One of the beasties opened its wide yellow eyes and chattered at Victor.
“Hello there, little fellow,” Victor said as he bent low to get near what passed for its face, “This is quite a place you have here. I had no idea that there was a place like this on G’rnatha. Is it guest quarters perhaps? A place where visiting arms dealers from other dimensions can stay?”
The little furry beast didn’t blink and continued to stare at Victor. It cocked its head from right to left as if trying to puzzle out what was special about this huge green stranger. Victor only took his eyes off it for an instant while he rhetorically interrogated it.
The beast suddenly leaped forward onto him and began to poke and prod into his joints and the few orifices that the Battle Fiend design had incorporated. Victor batted at the critter pointlessly because it was faster than he was. *Is that possible?* he wondered in frustration.
As quickly as it had jumped on, the beast suddenly hopped off and scampered through the lush undergrowth back to its gathering. It resumed its position and closed its eyes while facing the blob.
The blob did not appear to glow or hum. Victor could not smell anything emanating from it. He walked closer to see what it was about the blob that could be so fascinating to a small furry creature.
From a distance it looked like a wad of multi-colored clay in a translucent balloon. In fact that’s what it looked like up close, too. Victor finally stood next to it, reached out one taloned hand and touched it.
*Tag, you're it!* he heard distinctly as a consciousness flooded his mind.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Jam Factory - Chapel St, Prahran, Melbourne
Wednesday the 26th July, 2006
20:30EST
“Two students and one adult, thanks!”
“Yyyep! Do you have your student cards?”
“No probs. Nick?”
“Yeah, give us a sec…” Retrieving a wallet from his rear pocket, Nick flipped it open, pulling out a wad of cards that had been artfully crammed into the one slit. Thumbing through the collection, he stopped at the final location of his RMIT student ID and flung it onto the counter.
“Nick, where’s Quin?”
Nick signalled over his shoulder to the snack bar, “I gave her some cash to get the snacks.”
Sighing, Jason shook his head tiredly, rubbing his temples, “Well we kind of need her here with her ID.”
“Ts’all good Jace! I got her student card right here!” Holding up his sister’s card, he then flung it on top of his own.
Jason continued to shake his head hopelessly at his brother before turning back to the girl behind the counter, “Is that ok?”
Biting her lip in consideration, the girl finally shrugged, flashing him a keen smile, “Yeah, it’ll do. I trust you. You just need to make sure she’s here the next time.” She handed three tickets across once they popped out of a machine, “Enjoy your movie!”
"Thanks,” Jason replied distractedly as he accepted the tickets from her and promptly turned about to walk away, Nick scooping up the IDs and following in his wake.
“Dude, that chick was totally checkin’ you out,” he said, finally catching up to his brother’s side.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Bloody hell. You can still go out with people, you know.”
“I know. Frankly I don’t care.”
Nick sniffed, “Well, Janie’s one fine piece of work.”
“Well good! I’m glad you feel that way about your girlfriend. Otherwise I’d question why you were going out with her.” Jason scanned the queued people at the snack bar till he located his sister, and sighed woefully. “I, on the other hand, don’t care if they’re the next Elle. I’m not going to ruin someone else’s life, because I want one. It’s not worth the risk.”
Nick gazed sadly at his older brother with sympathetic eyes, “I know. But dude… you’re going to die alone! Doesn’t that bother you?”
Jason nodded to their sister, “Look at her. Now, you tell me what bothers me more.”
Nick gazed with concern at his sister’s weary form, noticing for the first time how she was merely going through the motions of life, letting those around guide her movements rather than taking control herself.
“Besides,” Jason continued, “I’m a guy. Don’t care much for all that soppy ‘love’ crap, right? I don’t need anyone, and never will. End. Of. Story.”
Sighing, Nick compassionately pat his brother on the back, “Whatever you reckon, dude. Twenty-five... So you’re just going to die a virgin then?”
Jason suddenly turned on his brother, gripping him forcefully by the neck, his eyes boring deep into Nick's, “Two things, Nicolas: you’re a bloody pathetic dickhead. Grow up!”
Shoving him out of the way, Jason continued to stroll towards his sister, “Oh, and a third: in order to die a virgin, you need to be one. Bloody hell! 21, and you’re still pathetic,” Jason continued to mutter to himself.
Rubbing where he’d been gripped at the neck, Nick wiped the grimace off his face and smirked, “You’re kidding me, right? Who? When?”
“For Christ’s sake, Nick! Shut up! Could you be any more of a worm?” Jason glared warningly at his brother, “It is none of your business WHO I’ve been with! I cut them completely out of my life before things got out of hand, and that’s that! Certain people don’t know who they are, or that it ever happened, and that’s how it’s going to stay.”
Nick stood frozen still, mouth agape. Jason’s unexpected outburst had caught him completely off guard. It took him a moment or two before he managed to collect himself.
Quin had finished and turned despairingly from the counter, struggling with two large popcorns and three drinks. Jason smiled at his sister, but to no avail. With her downcast eyes, she barely noticed the people about her in time to dodge them.
“Hey Quin. Let me get those for you.”
“I’m not incompetent, Jason.”
“Oh, I know! I’m more thinking of the public though. They mightn’t be so appreciative of you decorating them in popcorn and coke.” He smiled kindly down at his little sister as he hefted some of the snacks out of her struggling arms, passing one of the three cokes to his brother who’d finally joined them, “Not that you don’t do a great job of it or anything.”
Quin rolled her eyes and peered up briefly at her brothers, the slightest hint of a smile pulling at a corner of her mouth.
Nick smiled genuinely and glided in one swift move to her other side, “We got the tickets! Nearly couldn’t get yours for concession price, but Jason just batted his eyes at the girl and we were home free.” Jason glanced warningly at him across her head.
“Hey where’s Trent?” Nick ignored Jason’s subtle threat, and hugged an arm supportively around his sister’s shoulders.
Quin sighed, “I didn’t invite him.”
“What? Why?” Nick shared a concerned glance with Jason.
“Was there any reason I should?” She shrugged, “He probably has better things to do tonight anyway.”
“What are you talking about? That kid loves you like nothing I’ve ever seen before!” Nick stopped, turning her to face him disbelievingly, “Are you just going to throw that away?”
“No,” she replied blandly, “But I thought I could make my own decisions? If you tell me to, I’ll call him and get him to come.”
Nick stared sadly at her, holding her with both hands on her shoulders, then sighed in resignation, “No… You make your own decisions.”
The three walked along in silence towards the cinema staircase entry, Jason and Nick sparing the occasional sorry glance towards their sister while she persisted in walking with her eyes downcast to the Jam Factory's tiled floor.
“HEY! NICK!”
A voice called from somewhere in the crowd, drawing both Nick's and Jason’s attention behind them. Nick grinned and waved as he spotted a familiar face hailing him amidst the bustling crowd.
“Wait here, I’ll be back in a sec,” Nick instructed as he turned to his siblings before darting off.
“Dude!”
Jason waited in silence with his sister for a few moments till he noticed Nick returning with a group of friends he could only assume he knew from uni.
“…yeah, I’m just here with my bro and lil’ sis to see a movie.”
“Choice mate. Hey!” The lead guy who had been talking with Nick held up his hand, greeting Jason as he approached, while Quin continued to gaze morosely at the floor.
“Lee, this is my brother Jason. Jason… Lee.” Nick began the introductions, “And this is my dearest lil’ sis’: Quin!”
“Hey nice to meet…” Lee began, wavering mid-sentence as Quin slowly raised her eyes to the sudden mention of her name, “…ya!” Lee finished, blinking in surprise, he stared incredulously. “Dude! That’s your sister?” Lee addressed Nick askance, and sniffed, bemused.
Quin’s eyes suddenly bulged at the sight of the new arrival. Quickly hiding her face behind a confused Jason in panic she muttered, “I can’t do this,” to herself before spiriting off into the crowd.
“Shit, dude….”
“QUIN!” Jason cried after his sister who’d vanished in the blink of an eye.
Nick stared quizzically from Lee, to his departed sister, then back to Lee, “What the hell was that all about?” Nick questioned, trying to puzzle out what had just taken place. He shot a quick glance to his elder brother before settling back on his friend, “What’s going ON?” he demanded.
Lee’s mouth worked silently, eyebrows raised in surprised astonishment. Nick shook his head slowly, trying to deny what he was now being faced with.
“No… it can’t… you didn‘t…” Nick’s eyes were squeezed shut tight, tears from the strain lining the pressured slits. With clenched fists shaking at his sides, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing! His own friend…
“YOU ABSOLUTE BASTARD!” Nick yelled vengefully at the top of his lungs. The attention of the entire centre suddenly focused on the three as Nick’s fist flew unrestrained, colliding solidly into Lee’s nose with a thunderous crack, knocking him out cold. “I can’t believe I thought you were cool!”
“Nick!” Jason grabbed his brother around the chest from behind, pinning his arms at his sides. “Stop! He‘s out, okay!” He hauled Nick away from his fallen, former friend, discontinuing the stream of kicks he strove to deliver with all his rage. “C’mon, you dickhead. We’ve got to find Quin.”
Nick glared balefully at the bloodied Lee curled up on the ground, “You’re not worth it,” he spat, backing away, before turning about into a dead run after his brother.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Monday 17th July, 2006
The Temple of the Divine Goddess, Las Vegas
11:54pm
Galen looked around the wiccanesque temple and chuckled to himself. The Temple of the Divine Goddess was anything but subtle. The room was elaborately decorated, the walls painted with murals of gods and goddesses from wicca and strewn with voiles of every colour imaginable. Images of pentagrams and runes were displayed on almost any available surface and lit by candle flame alone.
The amused expression melting from his face, he turned to look at Kate who stood by his side, her hand bound together with his own. Her long dark red hair was half pinned up while the rest hung straight down her back and she was wearing a simple, elegant white dress that touched the floor and looked stunning against her sun-kissed flesh. Galen smiled at the sight of her in the candle light before returning his attention to the high priest as he continued the ceremony.
“By the secrets of earth and water is this bond woven - unbreakable, irrevocable; by the laws that created fire and wind this bond is set in you, in life and beyond life. May none come between you so long as your path is shared. Ever love, help and respect each other and know that you are truly one. Blessed be. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now seal your union with a kiss.”
The two smiled and turned to face one another as they kissed.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Reintroducing - Victor Garber as Jack Archer and Kevin Spacey as Michael Gemmel
Tuesday 18th July, 2006
Downtown Los Angeles
8:47pm
Jack pulled the collar of his trenchcoat higher around his neck as he nervously paced the pavement. As dark clouds rolled across the night sky a heavy clap of thunder heralded the approaching storm. Minutes later the city streets were awash with rainfall and the few remaining tourists and night-time revellers fled the streets in search of cover.
Amidst the hustle and bustle of the LA streets – heavy commuting traffic, impatient drivers and angry cabbies – the high piercing sound of a baby's cry could be heard. Jack looked anxiously towards his parked car and opened the rear seat where Emma was securely fastened in her baby seat. The tiny baby’s face was completely red as she bawled her lungs out; she had barely stopped crying since Kate and Galen had left her in Jack’s care two days ago.
“Oh come on Emma,” pleaded Jack, leaning in the open door and wiping at the tiny child’s cheeks with his handkerchief.
“Jack Archer?”
The sound of the man’s English accent sent a cold shiver down Jack’s spine which had nothing to do with the drop in temperature. Jack paused, not daring to turn to meet the speaker. He closed the car door silently as Emma’s cries quietened. Slowly Jack turned around.
“It’s been a long time, old friend.”
“Not long enough,” muttered Jack through clenched teeth.
The speaker took several steps forward towards Jack, his dark, handsome features coming into focus as he moved into the light of a nearby street lamp. The man made no effort to protect himself from the rain, the fabric of his overcoat was already soaked through and drops of rain dripped from the gelled spikes of his well-coiffured hair. “Is that any way to talk to a friend, Jack?”
“You’re no friend of mine, Carmichael,” spat Jack vengefully, “What are you doing here anyway? The Ministry doesn’t have jurisdiction in Los Angeles. If anyone catches you here they’ll deport your sorry ass back to Blighty.”
“Don’t worry so much Jack!” laughed Carmichael as he lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “I think you’ll find I have all my bases covered… unlike some people.”
Jack’s eyes appeared to glow with anger, “Now, listen here…”
Suddenly the sound of Emma’s urgent cries pierced the air once again. Carmichael raised an eyebrow in surprise and walked over to the car. Opening the rear door he grinned to himself and dropped his cigarette to the ground.
“Well, what do we have here?” he asked as he unfastened the child’s restraints and lifted her up into his arms and began rocking her to and fro. “Tut, tut, Jack! I’m surprised at you, bringing a baby out on a night like this, and with such unscrupulous people about too. You should be more careful.”
Jack watched with horror as Carmichael rocked his granddaughter. “Give her to me,” he ordered rather pathetically.
“Shhh little one,” cooed Carmichael sinisterly, ignoring Jack’s plea. Emma continued to cry, louder now as light raindrops fell on her face. Carmichael opened his coat and tucked Emma under the flap to protect her from the elements. “Shhh now, don’t cry. You miss your mummy and daddy don’t you?”
“I said, give her to me,” repeated Jack, his voice growing more forceful.
Carmichael smiled as he eventually returned the child to the safety of the car. He had barely closed the door again when Jack took hold of him by the coat and slammed him against the nearby wall.
“I warned you what would happen if you ever came after me! I warned you!”
Despite Jack’s superhuman strength and the fact that he was being suspended almost three feet from the ground, Carmichael couldn’t help but chuckle at his ‘friend's’ threat.
“What are you going to do Jack? Kill me? It’s not like I’m here alone. Any plans… any obligations that I have will be fulfilled… one way or another. You know the way it is. The Ministry will never stop, Jack, not until we complete our objectives.”
“Indeed we won’t.”
Jack looked up as four people stepped out of the darkness and formed a circle around him. He immediately released his hold on Carmichael and turned to face the new arrivals. The man who had spoken stood closest to Jack, his dark balding hair dripped with rain and his beady little black eyes shone in the dull light. He withdrew his prosthetic hand from his coat pocket and wiped at his forehead.
“Gemmel!” exclaimed Jack in surprise. “So you’re still alive? I heard that Valerian had ended your pitiful existence after you pulled that stunt with his daughter.”
“Bygones Jack, we have more… interesting diversions awaiting us.” Gemmel smirked, a wicked gleam in his black eyes. “Where is your patronage Jack? Where is your loyalty? For years we worked side by side. We did good work Jack, why did you have to throw it all away?”
“You still don’t get it do you? The elements of magic are not yours to control! They never were and they never shall be! For a long time I despised the world for taking that which was so precious to me away, but no matter what suffering a person has to live through it doesn’t excuse them from abusing such power.”
Gemmel laughed and waved a hand to his associates. “Remind Mr Archer here how he should receive his patronage.”
Jack struggled as the remaining four took hold of his arms and forced him to kneel on the pavement before Gemmel. Jack looked up as the four men continued to hold him down even as a torrent of rainwater flowed down the streets like a river. Gemmel crouched low and whispered in Jack’s ear.
“Nobody leaves The Ministry, Jack. The time is fast approaching when you will have to pay the piper.”
With those final words, the four pushed Jack to the ground. By the time he had struggled to his feet there was no sign of Carmichael or Gemmel.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
28th July, 10:32pm
Alessa closed the door with her foot and took a look at her apartment. *Where should I put him? Well, he could use the bed,* she thought and headed towards the apartment’s only bedroom.
“Please, move the cover,” she asked the kid who was looking around with a tired look in his face. After he had done so, she put her burden onto it. *What a mess...* She shrugged to herself as she took a better look at the man.
“I’ll bring some bandages…” she told Cole. “Sit down, be comfortable.”
Cole took Alessa up on her offer. He knew some healing spells, but he was too exhausted to even try and remember how to do them. The adrenaline had finally worn off and he wasn’t so much coming down as plummeting. Slumping onto a sofa, he rubbed at his eyes. The lids felt like sandpaper rubbing over the eyeballs whenever he blinked.
Maybe he would rest here for just a minute. The sofa was so comfortable, so comfortable and it would only be a minute…
He jerked as his eyes snapped open. Blushing slightly, Cole looked around to make sure the woman hadn’t noticed him dropping off. He was supposed to be helping keep guard, not sleeping.
How long was he asleep? A couple of minutes, he thought. Surely no longer.
After the man, *Chance,* Alessa corrected herself, *the well-dressed kid said his name was Chance,* was somewhat cleaner and the ugly cut in his forehead was bandaged, Alessa sat tiredly next to him. She was feeling the burden of the day’s - and night’s - events. Too many things lurked in her head, and all of it seemed to have fallen over her in the last minutes.
“Well, he’s sleeping now,” she told Cole, “I think we should do the same. Or do you think it’s possible that they followed us after all? Cole?” she repeated and when no answer came she looked towards her living room. Alessa smiled to herself when she saw that the kid had fallen asleep on her sofa.
His face relaxed and looked very young in sleep. *Well, let him sleep,* she thought, *He performed quite a stunt in that street, no wonder he’s exhausted.*
Although she couldn’t do any magic she knew it could be tiring as hell. Alessa returned to the bedroom to arrange Chance’s covers around him and decided to prepare herself a cup of coffee. It was going to be a long night.
Cole appeared in the kitchen when she was finishing her third cup of coffee and she smiled to the kid. “Did you rest some? You slept over an hour.”
Raising his eyebrows, Cole said “An hour? No way…” But Alessa showed no signs of lying to him, in fact seemed to be enjoying the truth. He sighed. “Ugh. Not really.”
“So,” she asked, making another coffee, “Do you think we were followed?”
Cole shrugged. “I don’t think so. The vampires were, like, a little preoccupied. But you never know,” he paused, “Maybe we should, y’know, have like watches or something. I can go first, I have just slept after all.”
“OK.” Alessa smiled. She passed the coffee cup to him. “Have some coffee. Wake me in two hours. Dawn’s not far off, so we’ll do it like that. At least we’ll get some sleep then.”
Nodding as she got up, Cole reached for the kettle. “Goodnight,” He said to her as she walked out the kitchen.
“’Night,” Alessa replied.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
***Wednesday 9th August midnight-ish***
Mantheana's eyes snapped open. Her right wrist stung like a thousand bee stings. As she looked, the old scar was opening up all over again. Blood was scattered on the bedclothes where her hand had been. As her head woke up, she remembered the last time this happened. When Mikhail came back. She sat up and wrapped the sheets around her body to cover herself.
She was worried. If he were coming back, what would he say? What would he do? Did he know about Maria? Would he want to be a family? Or was that the last thing on his mind? Secretly she knew the latter was true. He probably didn't even want her. Just her body. If he could buy her body and leave the rest of her behind her probably would. If he had the rest of her, then he would have to deal with the annoying things like her feelings.
Mantheana started to walk downstairs. This was all probably just her paranoia. She focused on the distant sound of Maria's breathing and calmed herself. Was she still imagining things? The pain that burned along her scar was hard to argue with. Mantheana lay on the sofa. Her bare legs felt the material through acute senses and again she was calm.
Then there was a knock at the door. Her heart nearly stopped at the sudden noise. Mantheana cautiously opened the door. There was no one there. She stepped outside. It was raining. In seconds she was soaked. Then she realised where she was and what she was wearing. She went back inside. As she turned round, he was sitting there on the sofa. Mikhail.
"Hey baby." His Russian was smooth and calm. "I'm back."
******
Mikhail stood up. He walked over to the shivering and slender form of Mantheana and engaged her in a kiss. She tilted her head back and let him wash over her, his big hands feeling and caressing all over her smooth wet skin. In that moment she was only just twenty, receiving her fist kiss, feeling urgency and passion and she waited for that void inside her to fill. But it didn't. She pushed him back, her pose askew, pulling the sheets further and tighter over her body, feeling suddenly more naked than she already was.
"No." Mantheana's face portrayed horror as she forced herself to think of what he had done to her, wondering why she felt she didn't need him any more. "Why are you here?"
"Isn't it obvious?" His words dripped with charm, gathering in a small metaphorical pool of sly grins and winning smiles. "I missed you. I want you and only you."
"Only me? No one else?" Mantheana tried the subtle approach to seeing whether he knew about Maria.
"Sure. Just us two." He didn't know. Mikhail took a step closer, but Mantheana stepped back.
"You should go now. I don't want you here. You left me then, you can leave me now."
"But now I'm here. Here for you." He smiled in faux reassurance at her. He had quite forgotten her stubbornness; it was cute, and the fact that she could be so difficult for him was a turn on.
"No Mikhail. You're not here for me. You're never here for me. Not what's up here anyway." Mantheana pointed a finger at the side of her head. "If you knew what you put me through. That’s what I need someone there for. If you knew what I'd been through. You made me crawl, Mikhail. Crawl until I was so wretched. I wasn't alive. I was only living for you!" Mantheana was shouting now, emotions that had welled up inside her for decades were breaking loose.
"You felt pretty alive to me." He had forgotten how stunning she could look with so little on. His deep chestnut eyes moved over and over the wet bed sheets that clung to her damp skin and he let his mind take him to a place where she was wearing less.
"No Mikhail. You killed me. I was living, but I wasn't alive. So you can… You can just go now!" Her shaking finger pointed to the door.
His eyes continued to move over her and then stopped on one of the many points of interest. "I see you kept the necklace."
It was true. The pendant lay at Mantheana's chest, the gleam of the dim lighting reflecting off it.
"The pendant has nothing to do with you any more." She clutched at the metal, cold as her hand.
"Oh yeah? Well, there's two M's on there. One is for Mantheana, I remember that one. And the other… Well then who is the other M? MISTER Nobody?" He gave a smug and unpleasant grin at his own joke.
"For your information the other M is-"
There was the light patter of feet.
"Mama? Mama what's all the noise? Mama who is that?" Maria looked blankly at the man she had never seen before in her life. She came and held Mantheana's hand.
Mikhail was shocked, but took this moment to turn things to his advantage. "Mama? Oh Mama is it? So you've found someone else. You've had a child. Who's the father? If I walk up stairs will I find some man half-asleep and naked in your bed? Wondering who the hell I am and what I'm doing here with his lover? And all this time you said I was unfaithful! I think that’s pretty good proof that there was someone else for you. I haven't seen you in fifteen years!"
"That’s what you think? Fifteen years? Did that night mean so little to you? You can't even remember it! In 2001! China? You found me again! There is no one else! There never was! My bed is as empty as when you left it! You really don't know, do you? It did take someone else to make me feel alive; and the irony is you gave me that person!" Mantheana looked down at the trembling child who filled the void, picked her up and held her tight. "Maria, say hello to your Papa."
"Really?" Maria looked only a little less shocked than Mikhail. "He's all surprised! Why are you surprised Papa?" Genuine concern reflected in Maria's shining eyes.
"Yes Mikhail, why so surprised? You do know how pregnancy works, don't you? I'm surprised it didn't happen earlier. That’s when you weren't here, Mikhail. You weren't at the doctor's when I found out. You weren't there when she was inside me. You're not now she's out. She's what makes me alive. Something you can never do. Now what do you say to your daughter?"
"I wouldn't know. I don't have one," came his frozen reply. The speed and accuracy of the slap Mantheana delivered to his face for this comment was vicious.
"Papa, don't be silly, I'm your daughter. You can see me, I'm right here." Maria was a little baffled at Mikhail's response and scared at the way Mantheana had reacted. Papas, in her opinion, should be pleased to see their daughters. "Papa, what do you mean?" A sniffle welled up in her chest so she let it out.
"Maria, go to bed." Mantheana's face was one of scared concentration.
"But Mama-"
"Just go. Mr Trankski and I have to talk." Her words were shaky but stern. She no longer referred to Mikhail as 'Papa'. With another sniff Maria sadly turned round and padded upstairs. The back of her seemed more familiar to Mikhail than her front. And her hair was such an exquisite red.
"Listen Mikhail," tears glistened in Mantheana's eyes, "you have to go now. I've had enough of you. Do you have no feelings? How could you say that to her? Oh yes, I forgot; with you it's no feelings only lust. I think you should leave now."
"Ah well, shall I tell you what I think? I think I have come for something, and I'm not leaving until I get it. I can have anything. I can have the world. And right now I'm having you. You don't get a say, all right? You're mine."
With that Mikhail took a forceful step forward. He caught her hand as it came round to hit him again. He pushed her painfully against the wall, pinning her down as she struggled against his iron grip. Mikhail pressed his head close to hers and kissed her savagely, her smooth flesh against his once more.
"-Aah! Little bitch!!" he yelled as Mantheana bit his lip hard.
"Yasha come, help me!" Mantheana's call was a desperate plea, but Yasha came at Mikhail like a bullet. Within seconds, he was off Mantheana, but it did not stop him delivering a blow to her cheek so hard she fell awkwardly to the ground. She stared up at Mikhail with wretched hate.
Fending off Yasha, he looked down at her with a smug but slightly disappointed face.
"I'm going now," he spat, "But I'm going to come back. You have been warned." With that he stormed out of the house, leaving Mantheana lying crumpled and weeping on the floor. No one defied Mikhail. This had never happened before. He would never have expected it of her.
Inside, Mantheana pulled her aching body from the ground. She closed the open front door and hobbled upstairs. Maria was sitting in her bed wide eyed and scared. When she saw her mother, she ran and helped her to the bed. Mantheana was sobbing loudly and her cheek was already starting to swell.
"Papas shouldn't do that, Mama," she said quietly. There was a slight intonation to it that made it sound like it could have possibly been a question.
"No. They shouldn't baby. No they shouldn't." Mantheana held Maria tightly and sobbed quietly into her hair.
"I don't want a Papa if they're like this," said Maria in a sleepy tone. "I'm tired…" She stroked Mantheana's wet hair and laid a small hand on Mantheana's bruised cheek. "Can we go to sleep?"
"No," Mantheana said suddenly, "It's not safe here. We have to go." With that, she rose awkwardly and fully dressed Maria. Pulling a cloak over herself and grasping the child in her arms, she made her way toward the wide-open door to the house.
Mantheana looked out the front door cautiously. Her piercing senses picked up nothing, so carefully she stepped outside, locked the door and made her way down the street as fast as possible on pure fear and a twisted ankle.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Wedded Bliss
Friday, 21st July 2003
Caesar’s Palace, Las Vegas
8:44pm
“I’m glad your friend could give us a discount for this place,” Galen spoke as he and Kate burst in through the door to their hotel room. The newlyweds were already in the middle of undressing each other even before they entered the room.
“The way you play blackjack we won’t need it,” said Kate, kicking off her shoes and pulling Galen back close against her. The two kissed each other with unbridled passion as they moved across the opulently decorated hotel room. Galen held Kate securely as they fell back onto the bed. Kate giggled as Galen pinned her down against the expensive fabric.
“Why is it,” he growled lustily, “winning vast amounts of money always turns me on?”
Kate laughed as Galen tore at her clothes and began to kiss her in an extravagant and comical manner. “I don’t know,” she laughed uncontrollably. “Probably awakening your inner Capitalist.”
“Whatever it is… I like it.”
As Galen rolled over to the bedside table and grabbed a bottle of champagne that had been chilling in a bucket of ice for the past two hours, Kate quickly sat up and picked up the telephone handset.
“Hmmm, room service,” growled Galen into Kate’s ear as he eased down the straps of her bra and began kissing her smooth shoulders and neck. “Are you reading my mind again?”
Kate grimaced slightly as she tightened her grip on the handset.
“Wait a minute,” said Galen warily, “that isn’t room service is it?” Galen swiftly took hold of the telephone just as the person on the other end picked up. Galen’s body tensed as he heard the voice on the other end. “Hello Jack.”
Kate looked pleadingly at Galen and reached out for the telephone. Galen stood up to be out of her reach, keeping the phone firmly in his grip.
“No, everything’s all right here, it’s just… (pause) how is Emma?”
Kate leapt up from the bed and leaned close to Galen to listen in on the conversation. “Ask him, ask him if she’s feeding okay. Oh! And, and if he can get her to sleep ‘cause there’s this little rocking trick I forgot to tell him about and it always works when she’s a little grizzly and – Hey!”
Kate grabbed the phone as Galen hung up. “Emma’s fine Kate, Jack says she’s doing just great. There’s no need for you to worry like this.”
“I know I just…” Kate sat back down on the bed, holding the handset in both her hands. “I miss her. I haven’t been away from her since the day she was born.”
“Kate, Kate listen to me.” Galen held Kate close, looking into her eyes steadily. “You have to learn to spend time away from Emma, just like she needs to be able to survive when you’re not around. We - you and I - sometimes we need to spend some time together… alone. It doesn’t mean that we love Emma any less.”
Galen kissed Kate gently and caressed her cheek. “Do you know how long it’s been since we last…?”
Kate nodded. “Of course I do, it was about four hours ago in the casino restroom, I still have the imprint of the faucet in my back.”
Galen laughed slightly, “No I meant before that, before we came to Vegas… three months.”
“Three months? No way, it couldn’t have been so long…”
Galen opened the bottle of champagne with a POP and poured out the light golden liquid into two glasses. “Three months, two weeks and five days to be precise.” He handed her a glass before taking a gulp of his own. “I love Emma as much as you do, but if we don’t make the most of the time we have together this just won’t work.”
Kate downed the entire contents of her glass and then sank back down on to the bed. “I know, and these few days away have been wonderful. I think I’d forgotten what it’s like to sleep for more than four hours at a time.”
Galen lay down on the bed beside her and gently stroked his fingers through her hair. Kate turned to face him.
“But I do miss her. I miss holding her and I miss feeding her, and it’s only been a few days!” Kate sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “It’s official, I’m a freak.”
Galen pulled Kate into his arms, and brushed back a few stray tendrils of hair from her eyes. “You’re not a freak. I love that you’re so devoted to our daughter.” Galen leaned in closer and kissed Kate deeply, leaving her quite breathless when he pulled away.
“How about we cut the honeymoon short? We can go home tomorrow morning and then I can spend the rest of my time off with you and Emma.”
“Really?” asked Kate, her voice sounding suddenly brighter. “You don’t mind?”
“Why would I mind spending some extra time with my two favourite girls?”
Kate smiled and held Galen close. “Oh you are so wonderful! I should start packing now, that way we can get an early start on the traffic and-”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” said Galen snatching hold of Kate as she began to rush off and start packing. She stopped with a surprised look on her face as Galen pulled her back down to sit on his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “Since this is technically the last night of our honeymoon…”
“Oh,” said Kate, smiling as Galen lay her back down on the bed. “Well I suppose we do have three months to catch up on…”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
27th July 3 am
James lay asleep dreaming of his past…
London 1778
The light rain was cold against his skin, but the mild discomfort was far from his mind. Small things like that are easily ignored when you’re fighting for your life, especially against four vampires.
Ripper grunted as a glancing blow caught his jaw, stunning him. He would have died then, or half a dozen other times that night, if the vampires fought together. Instead their haste and independent actions allowed him the time to stumble farther into the alley and shake his head, regaining his focus.
Physically, he was impressive. At six foot five and two hundred ten pounds, he was taller than most, yet he moved with a fluid grace uncommon to men his size. His dark hair hung, wet and limp, to his shoulders. The two-day beard gave him a haggard appearance; his dark hazel eyes seemed tired as he ducked and blocked the inhumanly fast attacks.
One vampire over-extended his punch, giving Ripper the chance he needed to turn the fight in his favour. Grabbing the vampire’s wrist and pulling it out wide, he lashed out with his left foot, sending the vampire into a pile of broken pallets. Luck favored him here as a jagged beam pierced the vampire’s heart, destroying it mid-scream.
Using his off-balance stance Ripper sprawled on the ground, avoiding the conflux of claws that would have shredded him. Rolling quickly, he caused a vampire to crash to the ground. They were a tangle of limbs, until Ripper managed to get his stake out of his sleeve and into the vampire’s heart. Two down…
Without thought he blocked the other attacks and calmly rose to his feet. With the practiced moves of a master he flowed into kenpo, brutally maiming the other vampires with broken legs, arms, and ribs. Painful, even for the undead. Ripper paced just out of the vampires' collective reach, his breathing and heart rate returning to normal. The two vampires struggled to regain some semblance of dignity as they watched him helplessly, for even vampiric regeneration required some time.
“What are they after?” he asked calmly, the stake held easily in his right hand.
“We don’t know what your talkin-” the first was cut off as the stake found his heart in an instant.
“I don’t want to die,” the last whined pitifully.
“Too late for that,” Ripper said calmly. “I know who you work for. I just want to know what you‘re after.”
“All right,” the vampire continued pitifully, “It’s this girl, Kate, she’s-” One final time the stake sunk into undead flesh in that dark alley. Ripper stood alone again in silence with only the dead until his own voice propelled him down the alley.
"Fucking Slayers.”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Thursday 10th August, 1:00 am
Bowen was woken by a desperate knock on the door. He'd fallen asleep on the sofa and this sudden awakening caused him to fall off it. After some minor cursing and a staggered attempt to get himself upright he 'walked' to the door, the knocks getting faster and louder.
"All right, all right! I'm coming," he yelled as he opened the door. "What the heck do you want at this time of--?" He recognised the face of Maria, that being the only thing he could see under the vast folds of black cloak.
"Mantheana?" He stepped back and let her enter. Yasha was in like a large, butch and rather intimidating whippet and sat expectantly as the cloaked figure entered. It put Maria down who sat, leaning on Yasha.
Bowen walked over to the hooded figure and a whimper from its depths prompted him to gently pull back the hood. The result was Mantheana's tear stained face, the dim lighting in the room shimmering in her watery eyes. Bowen brought his hand down her face, stroking her swollen cheek.
"Mantheana, what the hell happened?" he spoke quietly. Mantheana looked extremely fragile.
"I… I vos at… then h… he… he… came and he said… Oh such horrible things… And then he… Oh he tried to…" Mantheana broke down in tears. At this point Bowen felt the only appropriate thing to do was to give her a hug. As soon as he did she collapsed in his arms, sobbing heavily on his shoulder. He held her tightly until some of her emotion appeared to be released and then sat her on the sofa. Mantheana pulled her cloak around her tightly and stared into space silently.
Bowen looked at her for a second and then remembered that Maria was sitting there with Yasha. He tried to get some information out of her.
"Listen Maria. I don't know what happened to your Mom, but I want to make it better, so any questions you can answer will help me ok?" Maria nodded vigorously, eager to help her mother. "OK then. What happened? Do you think you can answer that?"
"Yes Sir. When I woke up, I could here Mama shouting down stairs and another voice that I didn't recognise. They were saying something about Mama's necklace, and I like Mama's necklace, so I wented down stairs to see what was going on and there was Mama talking to this man and I asked what was going on and he went on about something to do with not seeing Mama for fifteen years and then she said he was stupid and forgetful and something about China and then she said… Then she said that he was my Papa."
Maria sighed. That had been a lot of information in a very small amount of time. She continued, "And then he said that he didn't have a daughter, but I didn't understand. Then Mama told me to go to bed. So I went upstairs, but I could still hear and Mama said that the Papa-man should go, but he said something about having Mama whether she liked it or not and then Mama was yelling and the Papa-man was swearing and Yasha yelped and then I heard Mama crying and then the man went." Maria sniffled, "What's he done to Mama? She's all broken."
Bowen nodded in thanks and went back to Mantheana, who seemed to have come out of her emotional catatonia. Bowen tried again.
"Mantheana," he took her arctic hand and stroked it soothingly, "who did this? Maria said something about her father. Is this true?" Mantheana managed a nod.
"Ok, so your ex came where? To your house?" She nodded again. "And did what? You argued? About what?"
When Mantheana spoke it was quiet and jumpy from the crying. "H-he came and s-said that h-he vonted to get b-back together a-again. I… I told him n-no b-but he just…" Mantheana looked over to Maria, who was engrossed in Yasha. "B-Bowen… he vas… he vos going to… ven I said no… he did not care… if Yasha hadn't helped me ven he did… I d-don’t know vot would have happened…" She started to shake all over. Bowen hugged her tightly again.
"Shit. Mantheana, I'm so sorry. Are you going to be ok?"
"I… I don't know. He said he vos coming back. So I came here. He knew vhere I vos. I don't vant him to find me again. Bowen, don't let him find me again." She shook her head and shrank back into her cloak.
"It's ok. You can stay here tonight. I won't let him find you. Just… You can stay in my spare room ok?" He pulled her up gently and led her to the spare room where a double bed was ready laid awaiting the occurrence that one of his friends might want to stay over. He stood next to her and helped her shrug off her cloak, reminding her she was still wearing the wet sheets from earlier.
"Oh God…" Mantheana had only just remembered "I'm sorry. I just voke up and then ven he left I had to leave as vell and… I'm so sorry that… maybe I should go…" She turned to leave, but Bowen sat her down on the bed.
"It's fine. You just need to have a rest. Do you mind sharing the bed with Maria?" Mantheana shook her head. "Ok then. Do you want a drink or anything?" He got another shake in response. "I'll get Maria in here then?" He stood up and walked back outside the room to find Maria where he had left her.
"Ok Maria, You and your Mom are staying here tonight, so you can go and join her in there."
Maria nodded. "Thank you Sir. You're fixing my Mama."
She got up and trudged into the spare room, Yasha following at her heels. Bowen sat on the sofa for a couple of minutes thinking over the situation. He felt so angry with this ex of Mantheana's and yet at peace that she had come to him first.
He stood up again and after a soft knock on the door entered the spare room. Maria had gone out like a light the moment her head hit the pillow; the huge dog lying at the foot of the bed looked alert even in its slumber. Mantheana was still sitting up and staring at the wall in front of her. Bowen walked over to the bedside and placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him frantically.
"What if he comes?" Her deep red eyes stared up at him calling for reassurance.
"He won't. I won't let him okay?" He laid her head on the pillow and pulled the cover over her bare shoulders. He stroked her bruising face lightly until she relaxed.
"Thank you Bowen. I don't deserve you. You're too good to me… I'm so glad ve're friends…" Her eyes glazed as she slipped into the state between sleep and consciousness. As her lids dropped down and sealed her exit from the world of the woken, Bowen lent over and placed a light kiss on her pale forehead.
He stood up and walked over to the door. It was a perfect scene before him and he sighed. He too was sleepy and made his way to his bedroom. After changing he climbed in and went to sleep with strangely calm thoughts circling his head.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Birch Street – Alhambra, Los Angeles
Saturday, 22nd July 2006
6:30pm
“Nobody leaves The Ministry, Jack. The time is fast approaching when you will have to pay the piper.”
Jack had hardly been able to relax since his encounter with Gemmel and Carmichael. So much time had passed since he had anything to do with The Ministry that he had almost been able to imagine those brief few years of his life had been nothing more than a bad dream. Almost.
Two things he knew for sure, Gemmel and Carmichael were not men to be crossed, and The Ministry never made its presence known without good reason. What frightened Jack more was the fact that he hadn’t even resisted, he had received the ‘call’ and had obeyed just as he would have thirty years ago. It killed him that he could still be under the thrall of The Ministry. Not after so long, not now when…
Suddenly the front door opened and Kate and Galen burst in. Jack was immediately on his feet, greeting them as they entered the living room.
“What?” Jack was confused. He hadn’t expected the newlyweds home for another few days, surely they didn’t suspect something was wrong… “What are the two of you doing home so soon? Is something wrong?”
“Yes, yes there is I’m afraid Jack,” answered Galen soberly. Jack suddenly looked afraid and Galen couldn’t help but laugh. “Your daughter here’s insane.”
Kate laughed and hit Galen playfully in the shoulder. “Stop that, can’t you see you nearly gave him a heart attack? I, I just missed my little Angel that’s all. Where is she? Is she okay? Did you have any problems?”
Kate was already blowing round the room like a tropical storm, unpacking this and straightening out that, putting a kettle of water on the stove for tea. Finally she stopped, waiting for Jack’s answer.
“She’s been fine. She’s sleeping.”
“Hear that?” said Galen mockingly to Kate. “She’s fine, she’s sleeping. Does that sound like he couldn’t cope?”
Kate didn’t dignify Galen’s teasing with an answer. Instead she returned to the kitchen to make the tea.
“She’s been hopelessly homesick, even if she won’t admit it,” confided Galen once Kate was out of earshot. “All she’s thought about is Emma and how you might be coping...”
Jack cleared his throat nervously before sitting back down. “She needn’t have worried, I have taken care of a baby before. Besides, Emma’s a little Angel, she’s been no problem at all.”
Kate returned with a tray of cups and a teapot. She set the tray on the coffee table and sat down. She looked at Jack and frowned. *Is something wrong? You look worried.*
Jack glanced at Galen nervously. “Nothing’s wrong Kate, I assure you.”
Galen raised an eyebrow in speculation. “I wish you two wouldn’t do that telepathic thing when I’m here, it makes me terribly paranoid.”
“And that would never do,” chided Kate with a grin as she poured the tea.
“No,” said Galen, picking up his cup, “it wouldn’t.”
“So,” began Kate, sinking back into the sofa with a sigh, “did anyone call while we were away?”
Jack forced himself to relax. If Kate could pick up on his anxiety when she was so tired he really must be sending out waves of emotion at the moment. “No, not really. That Detective Anderson called a couple of times. Oh, and a woman called Natasha Brookes? She called a couple of days after you left. She didn’t leave a message but she said she had to talk to you urgently.”
Kate glanced at Galen, catching his eye for a moment before they both turned back to Jack.
“Maybe I should just give her a call, see if everything’s okay,” said Kate, replacing her cup on the table and then rising to use the telephone in the hallway.
“It’s probably nothing,” commented Galen as Kate disappeared again. “Certainly not a warning of an incoming apocalypse, we’ve had our quota this year already.”
“She’s not home,” announced Kate as she returned a few minutes later. “I left a message saying I’d call her again in a few days. Jack are you sure you’re okay? You look awfully pale.”
“Leave the man alone!” laughed Galen, pulling Kate down into his lap and giving her a light kiss. “I’m sure you need to worry about something or you’re not happy. First Emma, now Jack…”
“He’s just jealous because I don’t worry about him any more,” laughed Kate, “And speaking of Emma, I think I’ll go and look in on her.” Kate climbed out of Galen’s embrace and, blowing a teasing kiss over her shoulder, headed up the stairs to the nursery.
“See what I mean?” Galen gestured emphatically. “Insane.”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
July 29th
Beverly Hills
10:00 am
Elise Hunt brought her classic Mercedes convertible to a stop in front of “Huntress” on Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills. Hurried as she was, she lingered in front of her store, looking at it with a proprietary eye. Besides the arching double doors an immaculate white marble plaque read “Huntress” in bold letters next to a very simple drawing of the Greek goddess Artemis, the goddess of hunting.
She smiled to herself. She was very proud of her store, it had been opened for more than five years now and it was as doing as well as during the first year. Well, its permanence was sole proof of that fact. The taxes on any spot on Rodeo Drive were so high that only the successful survived. It wasn’t as she needed the money, though. Her family owned a great extension of forested land on Northern California and a very active vineyard in Napa Valley. They also had bonds in one of the oldest still-active gold mines in Alaska, apart from several properties in California and England. Her family being only her brother Alec and herself, she in fact had more money that she would ever need. But Huntress was, of all her income sources, the only one that she was responsible for and had not inherited. She had created it, and she knew that she was responsible for its success.
As she crossed the entrance she smiled to Lucy, her head saleswoman, who was waiting on a customer. She walked rapidly with her characteristic powerful pace, trying not to catch the eye of any customer with whom she might have to stop and chat. As she got to the base of the stairs she turned around and signaled Lucy to join her after she finished the sale.
Once in her office, Elise sat behind her big mahogany desk and turned on her computer. She needed to report yesterday night's events to her Huntmaster. There wasn’t really the need to report every other act a hunter did, but last night events had been strange enough for her to feel the need of reporting them. Usually the Society hunters worked quite on their own, although sometimes help from other hunter was required. They were a very loose alliance. Something that fit Elise quite well; she liked to work alone. Since Jenny she had never allowed herself to be close to any of her fellow Society hunters. Shoving her memories of Jenny away, Elise concentrated on her report.
******
July 28th
Bob’s Bar
9:00 pm
Last night she had traveled to Alhambra. She went to Bob’s Bar, as usual. Elise liked the place; it always swarmed with vampires and other kinds of creatures, making it an ideal hunting spot. She was wearing her hunting gear, as she called it, a showy red slip of a dress, a too big man’s black leather jacket and military like boots. All in all, she had a very sexy look in it, a deceptive look for the big jacket completely concealed her guns in two specially made inside pockets, and she hid a knife and a wooden stake in her heavy boots – ass kicking boots, as she jokingly called them. It wasn’t difficult for her to entice her prey in that outfit. And to think that “they” believed “her” to be the prey!
As she entered the bar she looked around with trained eyes, spotting vampires here and there, along with a number of humans and other creatures. Across the bar Bob sent her an uninterested glance. He knew her but didn’t mind her around. They had come to an arrangement when she had started frequenting the bar.
“A golden tequila,” she asked. Elise didn’t particularly like that drink but she had noticed that males, vampires or otherwise, found it fascinating to watch a woman lick the lemon and salt from her hand. As usual somebody came to her. With low, seductive lids she studied him… but he wasn’t a vampire so she didn’t pay him attention. After a few uninterested answers from her he gave up and left her alone. Fortunately he wasn’t a bully who decided to get her attention no matter what, otherwise she would have needed to put him in his place and that normally sent any prospective prey away.
She spotted a vampire sitting next to the bar’s end and started to watch him openly. It wasn’t too long until he approached her and he had already asked her to go “somewhere else” when a ruckus in the entrance of the bar distracted him.
*Ajuvee,* recognized Elise, narrowing her eyes in annoyance when her prey excused himself to join the group around the Asian vampire. *Strange,* she mused as she saw that the motley crew surrounding the vampire left the bar. Frowning she paid her drink and stood up to follow them. A hand stopped her though, and she slowly raised her eyes from the big hand in hers to Bob’s eyes.
“I wouldn’t follow, if I were you,” warned the bartender.
“Well, you aren’t me," she answered with contempt, “fortunately.” And she shook her hand out of his grip, turning to exit the bar.
Once in the street, Elise followed the sounds of the fight not far away. She ran close to the dark buildings, a safe distance behind the group of vampires. Soon she saw where they were headed - another group of vampires was attacking some humans, a very young man and a small black woman who seemed to be protecting an unconscious man and a kid. Outnumbered as they were, they were taking good account of their attackers. She watched the fight with knowing eyes; the kid had some psychic powers or he was using magic, the woman was very strong and trained. However they wouldn’t stand a chance when the group she was following attacked them too. Well, Elise shrugged, it wasn’t her fight after all, and she wouldn’t like to be caught in the middle. She would follow Bob’s counsel after all. She started to retreat when she heard Ajuvee talk.
Surprised, Elise saw how the two groups of vampires started to fight between themselves after the Asian vampire had talked amicably to the kid. It was a fierce fight, and Elise didn’t wait to see the outcome, after she saw the humans run away while the vampires were so distracted she decided to do the same. There would be no hunting tonight.
*****
Elise was finishing sending the report to the Huntmaster when a discrete knock on her door announced Lucy. She signaled the woman to enter and submerged into business matters.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Saturday, 5th August 2006
Bob’s Bar, Los Angeles
11:34pm
Kate hesitated slightly as she stood outside the doors to Bob’s Bar. It had been a long time since she had been here and her last visit had been anything but pleasant. Still, she was beginning to get desperate since Tash still hadn’t answered any of her messages since her return from Las Vegas. A visit to Poplar Avenue had left her with a strange feeling of foreboding. Neither Tash, Victor or the vampire hunter Reanna had been seen in weeks according to Mrs Dorris, the local curtain twitcher, and Sorrow and Jade were also nowhere to be found.
Which was why she was here and for no other reason. Something was going on in Los Angeles and Kate knew that if anyone had the low-down it’d be Bob ‘The Snitch’ Wedge.
As Kate stepped through the doors to Bob’s Bar she felt a sick rush of familiarity assail her. The stale scents of beer, blood and damp fungus demon filled the dully-lit room just as they had over a year ago when she had first worked here as a waitress. Kate walked through the almost deserted bar. It seemed strange, she thought - apart from a few demons the place was practically empty.
Suddenly she felt a hand on the back of her shoulder.
“Witch! I know you,” boomed a gravely voice from high above her. Kate turned around to see a ten-foot Chaos Demon towering above her.
“I never thought I’d see your face around here again,” he growled with a flash of his razor sharp teeth.
Kate looked the demon up and down before smiling widely. “Ardghal? Is that you? Long time no see!”
Kate gave the demon a friendly slap on the back, careful not to get covered in the slime that dripped from his antlers.
Ardghal uttered a low growl of contentment deep in his throat. “I heard you had a kid, got hitched.”
“Word travels fast,” smiled Kate. “You know where Bob is?”
“Sure, he just stepped out back to get more, um, supplies. I’m surprised to see you here actually, after what happened last time...”
Kate grimaced, “Well I’m hoping this won’t be a repeat performance of that.” She began to head over to the bar when Ardghal suddenly slapped her on the arse as she passed him.
“I couldn’t resist,” he laughed heartily. “You still have the best ass I’ve ever seen, for a human anyway!!”
Kate shook her head as she continued to the practically desolate bar and sat down on a stool. “This place never changes,” she muttered to herself.
“Not exactly true, but then I don’t have your charming… ‘smile’ to bring in the punters any more.” Bob rose to his feet and flashed Kate one of his winning Bob smiles that usually made people want to punch him.
Kate raised an eyebrow in speculation as she looked around the bar. “I think you need more than that. Business looks bad, Bob, you aren’t using that second-rate abattoir blood again are you?”
Bob laughed and began to cough, grabbing a beer and taking a swig from it. “If only things were that simple.” Bob laughed again and then looked up at Kate, realising that she didn’t know what her was talking about. “You haven’t heard?! Sheesh, what did I teach you the six months you worked here?”
“Always take payment before delivery, if I recall, and never trust anyone, especially you Bob.”
Bob grinned and leaned across the bar, taking hold of Kate’s wrist in his hand. “I never give away information without receiving payment in full up front. You know that Kate. Though in your case there are alternatives to money…”
Kate extracted her arm from Bob’s sweaty grip with a look of disgust. “I’m not that desperate.”
“Just remember, you came to me,” spat Bob bitterly. “It’s always the same, all of you out there living your perfect HBO lives in your fancy apartments and your expensive weaponry and tight designer clothes. You all look down your noses at me, think I’m beneath you. But whenever anyone needs any information where do you come crawling? To Bob. Me.”
“Spare me the violins,” said Kate harshly. “My friends are missing and-”
“-Your friends?” asked Bob, raising an eyebrow quizzically. “Your friends are that bunch of troublemakers at Poplar Avenue. Damn vampire hunters are gonna put me out of business one day. And Poplar Avenue! What a joke! If it isn’t interdimensional portals it’s beasties in the basement. That building’s been nothing but trouble since the day it was built.”
“I didn’t realise you were so superstitious,” sighed Kate, rolling her eyes. She waved at Ardghal as he and some of his fellow demons left the bar. Kate frowned. “Just why is it so empty in here?”
Bob sighed and walked over to the empty table and began clearing away the glasses. “Word on the street is that The Brotherhood are in town.”
Kate could hardly believe her ears. “The Brotherhood? The Brotherhood?”
“The one and only.” Bob stood up straight, watching Kate’s reaction with a slight grin. “I know for certain that Nicholas and Krispin have been flashing their shit around town, and well, Valerian has his own reasons for hanging around L.A. My guess is that Dathan isn’t too far behind the rest.”
Kate could hardly believe what she was hearing. During her years with the Coven she had studied in depth the legends of The Brotherhood and knew from the numerous reports and diaries in the Coven archives just what savage and brutal killers this particular band of vampires were. And now they were back?
“That’s impossible,” Kate said with an air of finality. “The Brotherhood disbanded centuries ago as a matter of self-preservation.”
“You should have seen what happened at After Dark – then tell me it’s impossible. A massacre, that’s the only word to describe it. The humans were untouched, but the vampires... Dozens of them all dusted, and one strung up in the kitchen, nailed to a cross like some unholy damned crucifixion.”
Kate was silent while she took this all in. “You’re saying The Brotherhood did this? But why? Why would they want to kill their own kind? It makes no sense.”
“All I know,” continued Bob as he returned to his place behind the bar, “is that ever since, this place has been about as popular with the vampires as a bacon sandwich buffet at a Bar Mitzvah.”
Kate glanced around the bar, “So, what? All the vampires are giving you a wide berth in case what happened at After Dark gets a repeat performance here?”
“Give the girl a cigar,” mocked Bob. “So you’re not just a pretty face after all.”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Sunday, 6th August 2006
Bob’s Bar, Los Angeles
2:12am
The bar was still pretty empty. Over the last few hours demons came, demons drank and paid their bills and demons left without a raised voice or a raised fist to distinguish one from the next. Bob had left his bar duties to indulge himself in Kate’s presence as she sat at one of the tables. The last two hours had been spent drinking while exchanging various theories on the Brotherhood, by which time, both Bob and Kate had steadily become rather drunk.
Bob sank back in his chair and let his eyes rove over Kate’s young body as he poured them both another drink. Raising his glass to propose a toast he couldn’t help but think about how much he’d be willing to give for one hot night of naked skin-on-skin action with the red haired witch.
“Here’s to angry strangers rolling into town needing a reliable si-snt-snitch. Well a snitch anyway.”
Kate raised her glass too. “Oooh, that’s a good one,” she replied, slurring her words a little. “Here’s to… monsters! That live in the basement and ancient evils that make clones of you that push you in front of heavy traffic.”
Bob looked confused for a moment before swallowing the contents of his glass in one go. “Now that certainly explains a few rumours I heard last year.” Bob refilled the glasses again watching avidly as Kate knocked back the amber liquid in one go.
“You’d better be careful with that,” he said, daring to lean a little closer. “You’ll get drunk then,” he licked his lips eagerly, “who knows what you’ll end up doing.”
Bob caught a glimpse of Kate’s bare thigh as her skirt rode up slightly. For a moment he considered making a move but thought against it. He looked up at her and smiled in a dopey fashion. “You know one piece of info I never let slip? How much I wanted you when you used to work for me?”
“What?” Kate sounded incredulous but then began to giggle in a drunken, uncontrollable manner. “Oh don’t be silly Bob. We hate each other, that’s the basis upon which our mutual disrespect is built.”
“Oh no!” cried Bob, taking Kate’s hand in his. “I, I don’t hate you. I couldn’t.” He gently began to stroke her hand in his own. “You’re too… illustrious, effulgent, beautiful… I think you’re just swell. I can’t tell you how many times I imagined the both of us doing it on the top of that bar.”
He pointed to the bar and Kate began to laugh again, pouring another drink. “You’re so funny Bob.”
“Look, I’ll show, I’ll show how serious I am,” said Bob, holding her hand tighter. “This is a personal warning for you my sweet… sweet Kate, new info, just for you.” Bob leaned in closer to Kate and breathed her perfume in deeply. “Oh god you smell so good.”
“Was that it?” asked Kate in confusion.
“What? No.” Bob put his arm around Kate’s shoulder. “I’d watch that father of yours if I were you. He’s been seen hanging around with some very unsavoury customers. I have heard the Ministry is in Los Angeles too. Keeping their distance. I don't trust them.”
Bob gazed at Kate again and leaned forward to smell her hair. “So, what do you say? I mean, I know you’re married and you have a kid now but I don’t mind.”
“It’s empty.”
“What?”
Kate tipped the bottle upside down. “It’s empty. Did we drink it all, we couldn’t have…”
“I’ll get more, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters if I have you, sweet, darling, beautiful…”
Suddenly Bob leapt forward from his chair and shoved his lips against Kate’s. She cried out loud in surprise as Bob forced himself on her, running his hands down her bare arms and holding her back tightly so that she pressed hard against him.
“Oh Kate! I never imagined this could be possible!” he moaned between kisses.
“Yeah it’s a bit of a surprise to me too,” said Kate, cringing as Bob kissed her sloppily. Finally she managed to slip out of his wandering hands. “Bob, I think this is…”
“Oh it’s more than I could ever dream of!” gushed Bob, taking Kate’s hand and kissing it again and again. “I know, we shouldn’t rush things…”
“No. We, we really shouldn’t.”
“I have a mattress in the back. I use it when I have to sleep here sometimes…”
“Oh.” Kate glanced at the bar and rolled her eyes. “Nice.”
“I could die a happy man.”
“Dying is looking like a good alternative option right now,” Kate said with a nervous smile. “Why don’t you go and get things ready and I’ll join you?”
Bob’s eyes lit up and he kissed Kate’s hand again before disappearing behind the bar. Kate drank the last from her glass before heading to the exit as fast as her wobbly legs could carry her. She practically fell out of the doors to the bar and into the dark alleyway. She staggered to her feet and then stared straight up at the stars.
“Oh! Pretty!” she said to herself, walking around the alley while still staring straight up. She slowly began spinning, still staring at the stars as they began to twirl around. She laughed in amusement before crying out in alarm as she lost her footing and began to fall.
“Gotcha!” Galen grabbed a hold of Kate under her arms, breaking her fall only inches before she would have landed on the ground.
Kate began to giggle uncontrollably as she struggled and flailed about in Galen’s arms as she tried to stand up on her wobbly legs.
“Galen! What are you doing here? Did you come to save me from Bob? Bob, ugh I can’t, oh god, never let me go there alone again.”
Galen looked at Kate curiously before wrapping one of her arms around his shoulder and putting his other arm around her waist. “I came as soon as I got home from my shift at the station and Jack told me where you’d gone. What possessed you to go to Bob’s alone? Wait a minute, don’t tell me, I’m sure you wouldn’t make much sense anyway right now.”
Kate laughed as Galen held her up and the two walked back to his car. “Noooo Galen you have it wrong. I did good, and Bob, Bob told me, the Brotherhood are here, here! In L.A!”
“The Brotherhood in L.A? Who are they, some kind of cheesy boy band?”
Kate began laughing again and Galen had to pick her up and carry her over his shoulder which only caused her to laugh even harder as he slung her on the back seat of the car.
“Really honey,” Galen said as he got into the front seat and started the car. “You need to learn your limit, you’d never catch me staggering around like a drunken lunatic.”
Kate scooted up to the front and wrapped her arms around Galen, planting a kiss on his face. “Thanks for the advice, Skippy.”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Monday 17th July 12:05pm
Los Angeles International Airport
Sorrow walked slowly up to terminal 7. He was a little late but he’d blame that on the freeway and not his dislike of driving in L.A. Not that he had much choice. Between the three of them – Reah, Tash and himself - they had pretty much turned Alhambra into a no go area for vampires. As a result he was considering finally taking the plunge and getting a car.
He was here to meet the Knight off the plane. Sorrow didn’t want to though. After Tash’s phone call yesterday about the arrival of a second elder in the city, the destruction of first Narcosis and now After Dark and then the sudden appearance of a circle of standing stones in a parking lot, *and consequent disappearance of Tash, Victor and Reah,* Sorrow really didn’t feel up to dealing with his superior.
A second Elder to deal with. A member of the Brotherhood, of which there were four remaining and none of which had been seen together in over a century according at least to the books Daye had given him last year. *I really ought to return those…* Whatever was coming was obviously apocalyptic in scale and half the people who had helped with the last two were no longer here. All in all Sorrow didn’t need to deal with the Society right now. *It never rains but it pours.*
The Huntmaster knight was waiting in the terminal as Sorrow stepped through the doors. A tall man, 6’4 and heavily built, he looked more like an aging wrestler than an expert on the supernatural. A petite woman dressed in a conservative business suit stood to one side and behind him were two men, both rather young. They seemed somewhat nervous.
“John,” Sorrow offered his hand.
“Tristan,” John took his hand in what would have been a bone-crushing grip. Never one to avoid a confrontation, Sorrow exerted his supernatural strength a little.
“I have a car." Sorrow smiled inwardly when John let go of his hand. He knew it was petty but if this man was going to declare open season on his life Sorrow wanted to get his digs in first. “Which hotel are you staying at?”
“The lodge isn’t available? I was under the impression you had very few Society hunters in the city.”
“Of course, it has plenty of room. Well, the car is this way.”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Saturday 23rd July 2006 11.09pm
Los Angeles
It had been over a week and Sam still hadn’t gotten used to the changes. It was like she’d been turned again. The sudden infusion of power, the change in how the world looked. She wondered how it worked normally. Did this strength creep up on you? Had Valerian never noticed what he had gained?
The week just past Valerian had trained her to deal with her new strengths, teaching her the paths of her power and showing her the things she had dreamed of. *Finally he’s given up on Jade, given me my rightful place.* Now though, it was time for her to put his gifts into his service.
She stepped into the alleyway, her heels clicking against the tarmac. Her hair was pulled back. Blood red lipstick slashed across her mouth complementing her perfectly formed inch-long nails. Those nails she trailed down the wall leaving gouges in their wake as she approached her destination.
The elegant clothes she wore were completely out of step with the grunge look around her but she wasn’t really interested. As Sam stepped through the doorway into this den of iniquity a young girl high on Orpheus whimpered softly as a vampire slowly sank his fangs into her neck.
Sam’s lips curled in distaste. Addicts before they’d been turned, addicts they remained after being given the dark gift. Their very existence was an affront. *Still, they have their uses.*
A tall vampire blocked Sam’s forward progress; his clothes were a little better than the others but not by much.
“Well little lady, have you come for a good time?”
Sam’s head tilted to one side. Her eyes travelled from his down to his feet and back up again at the same time she rolled the sense of him around in her head. He was fifty years at the very most. Barely more than a fledgling. She regarded him silently and waited, until his growing unease broke through his control and he shifted, about to say something more.
Sam hit him. The blow was deceptively powerful and it launched the vampire across the length of the room.
“Where is the broodleader for you bunch of degenerates?” she said harshly.
With a growl a second vampire, his gameface showing, leapt at Samantha. With comtemptuous ease she smashed him out of the air and raked her talons across the bloodsucker's face.
“You’re younger than he was…” She gestured with her bloodied hand towards the first vampire who had stopped her. “That’s it? That’s all you cretins have?”
Her hand reached out and caressed the bloodied vampire’s cheek. Her thumb nail strayed close to his eyes and he pulled back.
“Where is your brood leader, fledgling?" Sam growled as she tightened her grip. “I have little patience for these games.”
“Enough. I am here.”
Sam smiled at the ‘man’. He was a century at least in age but he was weak. Still, he had what she needed. Her heels notwithstanding, Sam rushed the vampire. Two quick swipes of her nails raked open his chest and sent blood splattering across the room.
He had barely registered her attack when she thrust her fingers into his chest.
“Don’t worry… they are mine now,” she whispered as she ripped out his undead heart.
Sam gazed round the room, her demonic features now in evidence, the slowly scattering ashes of her opponent around her.
“I rule here now.”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Wednesday, 9th August 2006
You stand proud at the top of the church, foot resting gently at the crux of the cross. Quite a silhouette against the mingled gleam of neon lights and stars.
You look down and across the city. All yours. All this bountiful darkness. You remember coming here before. A long time ago. With Him.
You loved Him. You would have given it to Him. But that was a love affair always doomed to failure. So you kept it, revelled in it, gleamed - dark star - in it. Done the odd bit of tempting, perverting, just to keep your hand in.
That familiar scent like poetry on the wind. An invitation, like lilies. Time to move. There are souls out there needing a little coercion. And more importantly... there are those without souls needing a little coercion.
*****
As they collapsed onto the bed, James frowned briefly at the empty bedroom next door. “Where d’you think your sister’s gone?”
The smile faded off Maggie’s face. “Well, I -” Something flared at the back of her mind. Something was stirring, something was coming for her. Something she wanted to give in to. “Well, I’m not her keeper am I?”
James frowned up at her, eyebrow raised. Maggie bent down towards him, examining his face intently. Staring deep into his eyes she traced the lines of his face, across his mouth, along his nose and over his eyes. He smiled bemusedly at her.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Making a memory?”
She smiled down at him. “I don’t need memories - you will always be with me.” As they moved together she said gently, “I’d know if she were hurt. I’d feel it.”
He drew her to him, but as she rested her head on his shoulder her smile faded. She felt, for the first time since James, that something wasn’t right. Something was wrong with her.
*****
Janey woke suddenly, catapulted out of a candy-coloured dream where a cat called Bloody Mary with snakes darting out of its mouth kept trying to abduct her. Just the normal there then. But something wasn’t normal. Yes, something was definitely not right. Something about the ceiling. Yes - she couldn’t remember ever having a pink chandelier.
“Mendiela? Er, no I mean... Maggie?” Slowly she sat up, squinting into the blackness of her surroundings.
As her eyes focused she realised black drapes were hung around her. She staggered out into the dank light of somewhere that was definitely not her bedroom. Deep pink swirled across the glistening black walls forcing her back in bewilderment. Ornate wooden furniture, all overhung with menacing drapes, rotted gently in the corners of the room.
Except the room didn’t have corners - it curved around Janey as she rocked round in dizzy circles. Remembering dizzily, horribly, she realised she had a hangover. She almost forgot how ill she felt in her surprise at the novelty of the sensation. Definitely something to tell Maggie, she thought proudly.
"Maggie! Oh gods!” *I haven’t even telly-phoned her! Gods, she‘ll be frantic with worry! For all she knows I could have been abducted by a -*
Janey paused. Abducted by a cat called Bloody Mary? No.
A strange figure echoed in her mind. “Nuh-nuh-nuh - Max, as in like Maxine.”
Max-as-in-like-Maxine. Her Mysterious Saviour. Then, graphically remembering the amount of liquor she had consumed prior to her rescue, she bent double to throw up. But she had nothing left to vomit. Gods, she was hungry. Sometimes it really sucked being undead.
*****
Maggie shrieked as James tickled her unrelentingly. Slipping out of his grasp and rolling off the bed she laughed, backing away from him.
“Stop … Seriously … I … can’t … breathe!” James paused and she gasped.
“ You don’t need to breathe, you little minx.”
Maggie grinned, and the couple kissed. Sighing happily, Maggie curled up in James’ arms. Over the top of her head James frowned. “Mags,” he began cautiously, “There’s something I wanted to mention to you.”
“Um?”
“It’s about that guy.”
“James? What guy? Since when was there a guy?”
“When we went feeding.”
“You mean that man, I… ate? What about him?”
“It wasn’t him so much as the way you went about getting him.”
“What are you saying?” Maggie’s voice went dangerously quiet.
James took a deep breath, “ Mags, I love you, I really do – and I think you love me, so why do you hurt me? When you eat, you don’t have to throw yourself at your victims you know. I mean I had to watch you! Do you know what that was like? Maggie, I just -”
He trailed off, as Maggie stood up and turned slowly to face him. Her eyes flashed furiously, “WHAT? I can’t believe I’m hearing this! It was just food! I love YOU! That’s ridiculous, oh god, I can’t believe it, you of all people!”
James stood up, and he stared down at her. “How DARE you! I love you, Maggie. I brought you and your sister into my home. I provided for you! And you cheat on me, with EVERY meal!” He stopped, calming himself down, staring down at the floor, he gathered together all his scattered thoughts. Looking up at her, face solemn, he said quietly, “I just can’t do this.”
Eyes full of tears, Maggie shook her head. A door slammed and Janey burst in, breathless, eyes bright. “Hello? Maggie? James? I’m back!” She came into the bedroom. “Guys, are you ok?”
James snorted in despair and stormed out, banging the door behind him. Maggie collapsed on her bed and cried. Janey sat next to her murmuring soothingly, but as she reached out to stroke her sister’s back, Maggie jumped up and turned on her sister.
“It’s your fault! If you had been here, this would never have happened. Did you have to be so goddamn TACTLESS! I’m so mad right now.”
“But Maggie -”
“NO, GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!” She half dragged, half threw the sister she loved so dearly out of the room.
Janey opened her mouth, words already formed on her lips, but she swallowed them because the door had shut in her face. She heard her sister's anguished sobs, but she turned and shut her own bedroom door. She slept, her head filled with dreams of Max, as-in-like Maxine.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Thursday 10th August, 10:00 am
Mantheana was awake in a foreign bed. For a second, she panicked. She saw Maria next to her and calmed slightly. Then she remembered the past night's events, and panicked some more. After at least five minutes panicking she calmed down some. She raked her hands through Maria's exquisite red hair whilst thinking over her situation.
Slowly she got up and walked out of the room. Bowen was sitting on the sofa in front of the television. The volume was on very low. When Mantheana concentrated she could hear it quite well, but she seriously doubted that Bowen could hear much at all.
"Don't put the sound down on my account." She spoke softly, her throat raw from the vicious sobbing she had done the night before.
Bowen jumped and turned round. He had obviously not heard her exit the spare room. "I… I didn't want to wake you. You looked like you could use some rest."
He smiled bravely and Mantheana returned it. "I found you some clothes until you can get back to your place." Bowen nodded toward a pile of neatly folded clothes. "They're mainly my sister's."
Mantheana picked them up, blushing like she never thought she could, as she had forgotten that she had slept in one of Bowen's old shirts. Stepping back into the bedroom she took off the shirt and put on a pair of panties, a black tee shirt and some jeans. She was not overly keen on the idea of the last two of these items. Trousers made her uncomfortable; she had never worn them before - they were men's clothes. Looking in the mirror and investigating her bruised cheek, Mantheana scraped her hair back into a ponytail. It was an unruly mess from running in the rain the night before, but she told herself it would suffice for now.
Maria was still asleep, so quietly Mantheana slipped back out of the room. Feeling extremely self-conscious of her appearance, she clutched her hands together. A wince came as she remembered her wrist, the warning wound. Surprisingly, it had more or less healed and all that was left was a tender white line.
Bowen was once again watching television, the volume barely increased. As silently as she dared, Mantheana moved and sat down next to him. He turned at the extra weight on the sofa. Taking in her new look, he smiled.
"Not too shabby." He grinned sheepishly but briefly, as the reality of the situation sunk in. Mantheana blushed deeply, and Bowen turned the television off, using the remote. Gently, he took her hand. "We're gonna get through this. I will protect you as best I can. That prick isn't getting in here. Do you have any other friends you could call for some support?"
Mantheana was silent for a second. She didn't really want to announce the fact that she had very few friends in the entire world. Then an idea hit her. "Jessica… Ve could go and see her… She knows about things…."
Bowen nodded. "OK. Get Maria up, and you can show me the way."
Once There was a Bunny... Part 1
*** Spring, 1999 ***
The Director of Research and International Affairs for the Watchers' Council sat on the edge of a plush sofa in a darkened room. Before him, chained to the floor, was an exotic demoness, naked and writhing as she performed her species' mating dance. Ambrose Delancre’s dark blue eyes watched her every move from beneath his half closed lids. He felt that familiar stirring in his loins and smiled wickedly as the creature turned its tear streaked face to him. This demon, Ashakrin by name, had been captured three months ago while tending bar in some demon dive in London. She and nearly a dozen others had been brought to the Guatemalan compound. Once free to roam the cities of this planet, they and their kind were now beholden to Ambrose Delancre for their continued existence. That power was a greater aphrodisiac to the man than Ashakrin’s dance could ever be. He knew that in every sense she belonged to him, and that turned Ambrose on far more than anything else could.
Ashakrin was a Mandal demon. Her people were gentle and artistic. That was why she was forced to serve Ambrose in this way, because she was not of any use in his army. The bin’tasra she now performed was intended to stoke the fires of desire in a female’s mate, to bring about the expression of love. It shamed Ashakrin terribly to dance in this way for this human, this alien who tormented her and others of her kind. But she still danced, because she was weak. Ashakrin didn’t want to die. She wanted to live, so she danced. It broke her spirit, but she danced. And Ashakrin knew, somehow, that her tears and her pain only excited the man more. That was her utter shame. It was her cowardice that truly enticed Director Delancre’s ardor.
Writhing on the floor before him, Ashakrin wept silently. She had learned quickly that although her tears excited him, Ambrose could not stand for her to make any sound not associated with the dance itself. She flowed from one move to the next, a deep, slow humming coming from her throat as she danced. Her body was lean and humanoid, but covered with a coat of dark fur, blue black in the flickering light from the fireplace. Only her face, hands, and feet lacked this fur. Her exposed skin was a pale purple, and her tear-filled eyes were dark purple. She was humanoid in form, but she had a long, prehensile tale that was an integral part of her mating dance. Ashakrin wrapped the tail around herself and began to spin. In moments, the dance would culminate and Ashakrin knew the Director would be upon her when she stopped moving. She prayed, as she had many futile times before, for some reprieve. At that moment, the door to the darkened room was flung open.
“Director!” a young man burst into the room, interrupting Ashakrin’s dance. Delancre looked at the man, his face a mask of fury.
"I have told you countless times before,” Delancre began, “never disturb me when I am meditating.”
“Yes, Sir, I know,” the young man replied hesitantly. “But Field Agent Mikos has just returned. You said…”
“I am aware of what I said, Tanner,” Delancre growled. “You may go. Tell Mikos I will meet him in my office in ten minutes.”
“Yes, Sir,” Tanner forced himself not to look at the demon chained to the floor. He didn’t want to know what Director Delancre had been doing in here. It was healthier for him not to even begin to try and guess. Keeping his eyes averted, the young man backed out of the room.
Ashakrin was frozen in her dance. Her long tail wrapped about her body, and she quivered with the exertion of holding her pose.
“Ahhh, my pretty little monster,” Delancre came up beside Ashakrin and whispered into her delicate ear, “it seems we must postpone our little… negotiation. I have business I must attend to.”
Ashakrin nodded, but did not move or speak. She remained perfectly still as Delancre left the room. A few minutes later, an armed guard came to lead her back to her cage. Ashakrin knew him, or at least she had once, but he didn’t speak to her at all. He had been processed and trained. And he too belonged to Ambrose Delancre.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Legends of the Fated Templar, Part 3
Quarry
February 6th, 1128 CE
Somewhere outside Dresden, Germany
Matthew was afraid. Truly afraid. Only once before in his life had he been this afraid, upon the night of his village’s massacre.
And even so, that was a different afraid. Before he had feared for his family and friends, for their souls. Now, he feared for his own.
He was running, and as he ran he pulled off the clumsy armour that was slowing him down. Most of it he had shed when his horse Miriam, after his late sister, had collapsed and died. But he did not have time enough to pull it all off, for the vampires were just behind him. Not for the first time in his life as a Knight Templar, Matthew wondered at their supernatural speed.
Now they pursued him through this forest, chasing him as a lord would game. Playing with him, toying with him. And Matthew feared that if, no, when they captured him, the game would have barely begun.
A squirrel, awoken from its nightly slumber by Matthew’s passage, darted out of his way. For a moment, as the cold sunk in from the removal of his armour, Matthew experienced a moment of… what were the French calling it? Déjà vu. His mind flashed back to that fateful night, now some eight years ago, and the flight from the village.
There were mild differences, though. Then the moon had been a crescent. Now its leering face stared down upon him. The cold had been bitter, and was now only a minor annoyance. Whether that was a testament to Matthew’s layers of muscles or the fact that it wasn’t as cold, he did not know.
And of course, back then the vampires had remained at the village and had not pursued him.
He almost cursed himself for being so stupid, but managed to catch himself. *Why did I leave my fellow brother-Knights to search for the vampires alone? Oh why did I walk so freely into the trap laid before me, blind to all that was transpiring around me?*
Now his company was dead, slaughtered in their beds as Matthew walked openly to his doom, believing there to be honour even among the servants of the Father of Lies. All of them, dead. Even Phillipe, with his one ear, who had been with him for so long, been through so much, from initiation to the battle with the daemon Evexus… *How stupid am I, after all these years, to believe a vampire’s word? To believe that they would let my brave men live if I met their leader in the Town Square?* De Montbard, one of the founders of the Templars and he who had taken Matthew in as his own son, would have been furious and dissapointed.
But it wasn’t stupidity, Matthew knew. It was over-confidence. For nigh on eight years he had served in the Knights Templar, doing battle with the enemies of mankind and protecting the faithful. His vampire tally had grown and grown. And this was his undoing. He had become too sure of himself, had allowed himself to be tricked by a vampire and had him running for his life.
Once more, the weakness of his youth had come to haunt him. But before, his overconfidence in his manhood had meant his escape from the massacre. There would be no escape this time.
Nevertheless, there was another difference. Before he had been a boy, a mere child with no skill of combat or experience in battle. Unprepared, weak and young. It was different this time. Now he would at least be able to take some of them down with him.
For a moment, he wondered what he had done to lose the Lord's favour, He who had watched over him for years. Was it a loss in faith? No, Matthew had kept to his prayers and even now prayed with what little breath he had from the running. What then?
Matthew had no answer, but unless he found help he would soon enough be able to ask for himself.
Bursting from the forest he ran onto the track. This was good. People always travelled on roads. Perhaps he would find some more Knights to help him fight the vampires. Speaking of which, he could no longer hear them chasing him. This in itself was not much, for he knew vampires could move silently when they wanted. He should not remain here for long.
Jogging up the track, his feet hitting small stones and pebbles, he wondered at the hour. Past midnight, Matthew was almost certain. Still a long way off till dawn and safety. With this in mind he cast glances over his shoulder, hoping to spot one of his supernatural stalkers. But it was futile. They would never show themselves openly to a Knight Templar until their moment to strike.
A series of neighing came from ahead, and Matthew sped up as his heart leapt. The scabbard hanging from his belt smacked against his leg, but he ignored it. Again, another neigh, from just ahead, where the road bent round a corner.
Putting the last of his energy into a desperate dash, Matthew rounded the bend and saw five horses with startled riders on top. They were armed, clad in full plate armour. For each horse there were two others, on foot but similarly attired. What a group of knights with their men-at-arms were doing out at this hour, and what they thought of an exhausted, unarmoured, bleeding Knight Templar running towards them with desperation on his face Matthew did not know nor care.
He ran straight up to the middle knight. The men-at-arms moved to block him.
“Help me!” he cried up at them in breathless German. “I am a Knight Templar, pursued by agents of the Dark Lord! You must help me!”
The knights put on a concerned look, and a few swapped suspicious glances, though the men-at-arms remained blank faced. The knight he had directed his cry at waved the men aside and brought his horse alongside Matthew, looking down upon him.
“You are sure?” he asked. Matthew nodded. “And where are they?” Matthew was so exhausted all he could do was point back the way he came. “And you are a Knight Templar?”
With his breath returning, he was able to manage: “I am Matthew, Knight Templar and servant of Our Lord.”
“Our Lord…” the knight muttered and dismounted. His fellows did likewise. A hand was placed on Matthew’s shoulder. “Do not fear. Our Lord has brought you to us, and with us you shall stay until His will is done.”
Matthew thought that last comment rather odd, but ignored it. They were knights, bounded by honour to serve the Lord God, perhaps not quite as much as a Templar, but enough to aid him. Maybe these were even knights of another order, such as Knights of Saint John. It was too dark to tell, but they could even be Knights Templar. Their ranks had swelled so much that Matthew no longer knew them all by name, and he had heard that many were fanatical in their devotion. It would explain their peculiar behaviour.
“Right now, the Lord’s will is for you to aid me in destroying the vampires,” he said, but the knight shook his head.
“No, I think not.” And as the Knight said this, the arm on Matthew’s shoulder slid up to his neck and clenched. With a startle, he realised it was stone cold but incredibly strong. Too late did he realise the others had circled around him, menacing looks etched upon their features.
The arm raised his feet off the ground, and Matthew struggled to take in air. He flailed uselessly at the arm now choking the life from him but his kicks met only metal. The knight leaned in close, so close that had it been human, he could have felt its breath against his face.
“Know this, there is only one true Lord. And He has great plans for you.”
With that, the knight’s face transformed. Long fangs slid out over its lips, the brow contorted and the eyes became feral yellow. Matthew knew this face. It was the face of his enemy, the face of an abomination against mankind; the face of a demon in human form. This was far worse, though, for the body was once that of a Knight, one who was once noble and proud. And that nobleness had been twisted and perverted into the creature that now choked the life out of him.
In unison the other vampires too showed their true faces. This time, Matthew did actually curse himself. He cursed his stupidity and his over-confidence and his gullibility. For once again he had walked openly into another trap.
Now there would be no running. Death was the only plausible escape, and Matthew intended to sell his life dearly.
Distracting the vampire-knight with a few blows to the head that caused it to do no more than laugh in contempt, he reached down and drew his sword, cutting through its arm in one fluid motion. The creature cried a blood-curdling scream and fell back, clutching its bloody stump as Matthew hit the floor, knees bending on impact and coming up in a fighting stance. He relieved a vampire of its head whilst it remained in a state of shock, but even before its dust hit the floor the others had drawn their own weapons and were upon him.
Matthew had been taught by the best master-at-arms in the order, had built up his muscles and had eight years of experience. But for all he knew the vampires had ten times that amount, and they had the vampiric strength and speed to go with it. Blocking one with a series of parries, he ducked just in time to avoid a swipe from a second, but did not move quickly enough to avoid a vicious kick to the stomach from a third that sent him staggering. Matthew was able to recover himself just in time to parry a blow that would have cut him clean in two, then used the momentum to pirouette round and behead a vampire sneaking up on him from behind. He was glad he had shed his armour, for though the vampires had added protection it slowed them down somewhat. This was the only advantage he had and Matthew was determined to make the most of it.
He danced in and around the fight, a parry here, a block there, receiving punches and kicks in return. After a few minutes his nose was broken and blood began running down his face. An armoured fist split his bottom lip open, and a sword blow that Matthew didn’t quite avoid cut deep into his shoulder. But despite this he stubbornly refused to go down and, with a prayer on his lips, lashed out with any opportunity he had to attack. Most of these bounced harmlessly off armour or blade, but every once in a while one got through and either a vampire blew apart or stumbled out of the fight. Matthew was fighting like he never had before in his life, and guessed he never would again.
For he could not keep the fight up for long. Even if he had not been exhausted from running for his life earlier, a human could never compete with a vampire’s stamina. His limbs were tiring and actions sluggish. And the vampires pounced on this weakness with renewed vigour.
With a cry, eight figures burst from the surrounding forest. For a moment, Matthew was filled with hope, but this was proved to be false as he recognised them as the vampires from the town. He knew that his time was running out, and soon he would die.
One of them thrust forward ready to impale him. At the last moment he managed to turn it away, but it nevertheless passed through his body and became lodged in his rib cage. Matthew gasped and staggered, and before he knew it was on the floor, his sword now in the hands of one of the vampire-knights. Another kicked him over so he laid on his back, staring up at the sky. Dawn was still hours off, and it seemed he would not see it coming.
His eyes refused to focus on anything, and began to darken at the edges. He had thought he had prevented a mortal injury, but it appeared not. Matthew guessed the vampire’s blade was poisoned. So why had he not felt the effects from other numberless cuts and gashes that covered his bruised and battered body? Maybe it was just this particular vampire. He tried to find it, but it hurt his head to look at anything. Instead he remained staring at the stars. They were so pretty, hanging there in the sky. So pretty…
A dark figure blocked his view, feral eyes ablaze.
“You put up a brave fight, Templar.” This last word it nearly spat at. Matthew thought he knew the voice, but could not place it. “But in the end, you are no match for the One True Lord, for He is all-knowing and resourceful.” With that it brought his sword into view, and Matthew could see it was the one that had struck him and was indeed poisoned. Now he could place the voice too, it was that of the first vampire-knight Matthew had spoken to; their leader.
Summoning up the last of his fading energy, Matthew began to chant:
“Our Father, Who art in Heaven…”
The vampire chuckled, but the sound conveyed no humour or warmth. As his strength failed, Matthew began stumbling over the words, swapping from language to language. He began in French, then now in German.
“And l,lead us-s-s not i…into temptation,
B-b-but deliver us f-f-from…evil…”
The vampire ceased its laughing, leaving only a sinister smile, and backed away. Matthew had a brief sensation of hands clasping him, but that too quickly faded.
*Two vampires back in Dresden, another four here. That’s six vampires altogether! And I had wounded many more. De Montbard would have been proud of me…*
And with this thought on his mind, Matthew found it within him to smile briefly before he slipped into darkness.
Amen
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
July 29th,
6:30am
Groggily, and with great reluctance, Chance opened his eyes. It was just a miracle that he could do that. An even bigger miracle that he was alive. Just. His entire body ached and his chest, which was bare, was blue and black with bruises. A bandage was wrapped around him at about rib-cage height, with another round his forehead. He reached up to touch it and winced in pain as his hand brushed his sore eyes. They didn’t feel swollen, but they still hurt like a bitch. And from what he could tell, the rest of his body wasn’t much better off. *Yup, this ranks up there with the other Mornings After from Hell.*
Chance looked around at his surroundings. He was in a room, on a bed. The sheets were tangled up all around him. A window was open, with curtains blowing out it, and he could hear the sounds of the city. The room was small but pleasant and tidy. He thought about trying to get up, but he was so peaceful here he didn’t bother. The last threads of a dream fled from his grasp even as he reached out to it, and so he dismissed it, instead just lying and thinking of nothing.
He stretched out. Then, with a sudden shock, Chance realised three things at once. One, he didn’t actually know where he was. Two, there was another body in the bed with him. Three, his clothes were piled on the chair next to him. He could feel his boxers on. Surely that meant something?
Sitting up he put his right arm out for support, and instantly regretted it. The arm collapsed under the weight, sending another volt of pain up his arm, and his left side screamed with agony.
By the time Chance fell back onto the bed, he was out cold again.
Alessa was startled when she felt the man next to her move. She hadn't even doubted it when she had lain in the bed next to him. It was her bed after all and it was big enough for the two of them.
She turned around to watch him, but without surprise she saw that he had fainted again. Well, those ribs should hurt like hell, she thought, then she looked towards the window. Light was streaming through them.
Getting up carefully so she wouldn’t disturb the man, Alessa headed towards the living room. It was strange that Cole hadn't awaken her before.
She found him slumped over the kitchen table, an unmade cup of coffee near his hand. Smiling, she let him be.
Vincent and Skippy pulled up to the apartment block that morning. They stepped out of the black armoured van and into the morning sun.
“We need to find James, one way or another,” Skippy said as he cocked his pistol.
As they got to the door Vincent gave Skippy a look. “Don’t do anything unless I tell you.”
Skippy looked at the kid and slapped him on the head. “I’m the adult here! Respect it. I won’t act hastily, I’m not stupid you know."
Vincent knocked at the door and waited for an answer.
As Alessa entered the living room she heard a knock in the door. *That must be the other kid,* she thought and looked at her watch. It read 6:30 am. Cole, awakened by the ring, was already at the door looking through the peephole.
“Vincent,” he said, “Should I open? He has somebody else with him…”
Alessa shrugged, “Sure, go on.”
Just as Cole had said, Vincent was there, with a Japanese looking guy with him. Alessa motioned them in and watched out after they got into her home.
When the door was opened Alessa greeted them and as they walked in Skippy scanned the small apartment.
Alessa began to speak nervously. “Would you like to sit down?”
They did so and Skippy spoke. “We should introduce ourselves. I’m Darlome and this is Vincent. We would like to speak to Chance as soon as-” Skippy deeply inhaled the air and he could smell it; another demon.
Cole studied the man Vincent had brought with him. There was something strange he just couldn't quite place... something off about him. He turned to Alessa to see if she had noticed it too. With a shock, he suddenly realised he was getting it off her as well.
Why hadn't he noticed this whatever-it-was before? Maybe he had been too tired. But the question was, what was it?
A voice in his head asked, *What are they?*
The voice worried him, but it had a point. Cole had only ever got a similar feeling off vampires before. But they weren't vampires. He could be sure of that much. So what, then? Demons?
Was he in the home of a demon?
He tensed and straightened. This was so not good. Talk about out of the frying pan into the fire. And to think he spent the night here...
Cole shook off the thought. He hadn't been eaten or killed yet, so that was good. Now all he needed was a way out. Best to be on the safe side after all.
Alessa warily watched the man who had just called himself Darlome. He was strange and he was watching her with strange eyes. It made her very nervous. She could notice something about him too.
“Well, Chance is still sleeping, I’m afraid.” She felt somewhat protective of her unexpected patient, and that man really gave her the creeps. “He’s been badly battered. Maybe you should wait before waking him up. I’m Alessa, by the way.”
Darlome nodded seriously but he was still staring at her. That continuous stare was starting to annoy her. She looked at Cole to see if he felt the same and was shaken when she saw the boy watching her with the same expression in his young face.
*Oh, no…* she thought. Alessa had seen that expression before, although it usually appeared in the eyes of the people who saw her in her demon’s form. She hated it. All her life all she had longed for was to be a normal human being.
Alessa shook her head, saddened, and hoped the boy could see past her demon’s part to know her as a person since she already liked him. But the strange man, on the other hand… she looked back at him again. Well, now wasn’t the moment to clear things with Cole, she thought. There were other issues to clear before.
Alessa turned to Darlome again. The man really had spotted her, she knew from his stare that he had. She had to say something to clear this up.
“What-” she started when she was startled by a sound behind her, turning around she saw Chance leaning in the door’s entrance. *He has good colour,* she thought, before rushing to help him walk as he stumbled into the living room.
All eyes followed as Chance, aided by Alessa, crossed the room. Wearing only his jeans, bandages and a number of bruises blossoming across his chest, he nonetheless looked better than he had the night before. A surprising amount better. He sat down heavily in a chair and smiled his thanks then turned to everybody else.
“Uhhh… Hi. Yeah. Um. I was wondering, well, what the hell is going on? I mean, I’ve woken up in a stranger’s bed, possibly next to a stranger and you all seem to know me yet I don’t know you. I’m guessing it was a good party?”
Cole studied the man carefully. This was the one guy who, it appeared, wasn’t a demon or didn’t hang out with them. That was good, and in Cole’s book made him an ally. But, he may be suffering from amnesia. Which was bad.
Alessa smiled at the nonchalant tone of the man’s words. It seemed he wasn’t surprised at awakening in a stranger’s bed or being welcomed by a bunch of strange people. She shot a glance to Cole and saw that the boy was watching Chance with puzzlement in his eyes. He didn’t look at her though, he was avoiding her eyes. Alessa sighed, well she would have to talk to him later, but now the new arrivals worried her more.
She was starting to regret having invited all these people into her house. Vincent stood up and leaned over to Chance; he was asking him something in an eager low tone. She was so distracted that she couldn’t get the whole question.
Something about James… well the kid had told them that Chance had information on a friend’s whereabouts. She paid more attention to them, her eyes not leaving Darlome’s.
Chance’s eyes widened as Vincent spoke to him. “James is missing?” he asked in disbelief, loud enough for everyone to hear. “For how long?”
“About five days, now,” Darlome said, leaning forward. “Just vanished without a trace. We got your message the other day, decided to see if you knew anything.” He shared a private look with Vincent, who went and sat back down again.
“You being?” Chance said. “In fact, who are all of you? I’m still not too clear on what’s going on here. You know me, so that saves me having to introduce myself.”
“Cole,” said Cole, introducing himself as an excuse to move closer to Chance. They might have to fight their way out at any minute, and separation was not an option. Together they would have more of a chance. “I’m Cole. Cole Matthews.”
“I am Darlome, and this is Vincent. We are… friends of James.”
Chance wasn’t so sure about the pause Darlome gave, but he decided to ignore it, for now. He turned to the woman who helped him. “And you are?” he asked, looking into her sparkling green eyes.
“My name is Alessandra Hunt… Alessa,” she added, still hurt by Cole’s refusal to trust her. *He spent the night with me, right? And I didn't do anything to him - the boy should recognise his friends,* she thought with annoyance. “And you are in my house… how are you feeling?”
She smiled at him; the man had a very nice aspect indeed, she realised, now that he was awake. A kind of roguish look. She saw the look of irritation in Vincent’s eyes at her question but she didn’t mind it. They were all in her house, after all, and they might as well refrain their eagerness. She didn’t know who this James fellow was, but Chance had been too close to it last night, and he still wasn’t completely ok, if one took his painful grimace every time he breathed in as proof of that fact.
“Like I had my butt kicked by vampires. In fact, I had a strange dream about that…” Chance trailed off as he looked at everybody’s faces. “That wasn’t a dream, was it? Oh boy.” He sagged into the chair and rubbed his head. “So. I guess you guys are my saviours.”
“I, unfortunately, was not there,” Darlome said. “Though if I was, I can assure you things would have turned out differently.” He glared at Vincent who blushed.
“Well, thanks anyway, for those of you who were. You didn’t have to step in, but you did, and I’m grateful for that…”
“What did you do to earn the wrath of so many vampires?” Alessa asked, her pretty features deepening in concern.
Cole snorted. “Isn’t it obvious? They’re vampires. It’s what they do. Like demons.” He levelled a cold stare at Alessa, then blushed at the look she gave him. Carefully, he edged further behind Chance's chair.
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Chance said, oblivious. “In fact, I think it’s really, really complicated-"
“I’m sure it is,” Darlome cut in, “but we have our own problems to deal with, namely James’ whereabouts. I’m going to ask you one more time…”
Cole, Alessa, Chance and Vincent gave Darlome odd looks as his voice went threatening. “If you’ll let me finish, I think my problems may be your problems. They’re linked.”
“How so?” Vincent asked.
Leaning forward, Chance spoke in a grim voice. “Do any of you know what an Elder is?”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Alessa flinched at those words. *Elders!!* She did know who the Elders were, indeed.
When she was living with Morris, they had researched about a very powerful vampire who had lived in South America before the colonisation. Morris had been very interested in him, very enthusiastic in fact, as he was any time something intrigued him. ‘Dathan’ had been his name. Morris hadn't been able to finish his investigation though; he had been killed. Or turned, she added hastily, although she didn’t like to think about that possibility.
She denied with her head, though. She didn’t want this Darlome man to know she knew. She didn’t trust him. She couldn’t quite point out what it was that she didn’t like about the man.
Looking to Cole once again, she saw the boy was shaking his head as well. Darlome’s cough attracted her attention. “Speak up man, explain yourself!” he said, a stern look in his oblique Japanese eyes.
“Well, gather around kids. Grandpa’s gonna tell you a story,” Chance said, taking a deep breath before launching into an explanation. “They’re called Elders because they are the oldest vampires in the world. Each one is thousands of years old. Ancient in every way. Nobody knows exactly how many of them there are, but I’m willing to bet only a few manage to survive for such a long time. They are the strongest vampires you are ever likely to come across; anybody is ever likely to come across. Apparently they make your average vampire look like a kitten. And, according to my sources, that’s not exaggerating. They have an incredible amount of wealth, physical and magical power and a ridiculous amount of influence in the underworld. Vampires head for the hills when there’s even a rumour of just one nearby. Even the demons tend to go out of their way to make sure they don’t get on an Elder’s bad side.”
He paused to breathe for a couple of heartbeats, still wincing as he did so. Everybody in the room was hanging on his every word, all except Darlome who looked marginally bored.
“And I think there’s at least two of them in LA.”
He let that sink in before going on. Cole and Vincent both looked seriously worried, and Alessa didn’t seem to be taking the news well, too. Darlome had a different look, an odd one aimed at Alessa and Chance. “They’ve already trashed two vamp-bars. In one case a single Elder walked in a massacred every vampire in the building, whilst another lured the hostess away. These are clever creatures. Clever, and strong.”
“That’s definitely not good,” Alessa said carefully, “But what does it have to do with you?”
“And James?” Darlome said with an eyebrow raised and a snide smile. *So,* Skippy thought, *this is interesting.* He had used the time during Chance’s tale to study both him and the woman. And, to his surprise, they shared something in common.
*Okay,* Chance thought, *might as well tell them… * “I’ve been… well, looking for one for some time now.” That got an astonished look even from Darlome. “I think one of them may have been responsible for killing my parents.” He held up a hand to ward off questions that hadn’t yet been asked, but what he knew were about to. “Don’t ask, it’s a long story that’s led me around the world and almost back again. But suffice to say, it led me to LA. I thought the trail had gone cold until last night. A… well, let’s call him a ‘source’ told me about the bars, said he’d take me to one. It was an ambush, and I was told somebody in high places didn’t like me sniffing around. Now the only thing I was sniffing around about was Elder vampires. Put two and two together and it ain’t a pretty picture.”
“So you think you’ve got one of these 'Elders' on your tail?” Cole asked.
“Right. Maybe more than one. Now here’s where James comes in,” he said, nodding in Darlome and Vincent’s direction. “Apparently these guys just showed up recently, and since they got here vampires have been steadily disappearing. I’m not sure whether they’ve fled or suffered the same fate as those at the bars but… Now you tell me James is missing too. That’s just too much of a coincidence.” He shook his head.
*So there are Elders in the city.How could that be? They usually work alone… but this steadily vampire disappearing sounds like a plan.* Alessa looked at Chance and wondered about him trying to find the Elders, either he was crazy or much stronger than he looked, although she could understand revenge thought Alessa before noticing that the Japanese guy was staring at her again. *Damn,* she swore, blushing in rage. This was going too far. She better put things in place, she wasn’t going to apologise for what she was, much less in her own home!
“Do you have a problem?” she asked openly to the man, a challenging look in her face, her eyes red in her rage without her noticing.
Vincent looked at the woman with surprise. He hadn't noticed what was going on in the room, his attention had been too focused in Chance and what he had to say to pay attention to anything else. His gaze went from Skippy to Alessa.
He trusted the demon’s instincts and watched her closely. He could see that there was something odd about her, her red eyes for one thing… The glove in his hand got warmer as he tried to pry into her to understand what it was that set her off like that.
Alessa’s face turned to the kid as she felt something reaching to touch her mind. *No way you are entering here,* she shouted voicelessly, her suspicions about the kid’s telepathic powers confirmed. Behind Chance, Cole retreated towards the wall.
“Oh, stop it!!” she snapped impatiently as she whirled on the kid. “ I haven’t eaten you, have I? And I had plenty of opportunities with you asleep in my couch!” She turned to Darlome and asked, “Haven’t you ever seen a demon before?”
Skippy shared an amused look with Vincent before answering. “I think you’d be surprised.”
Cole had been frozen in place by Alessa’s outburst. But he could still speak. “Of course you would. He’s a demon too.” He turned to Chance whilst the other two stared at each other. “They’re both demons.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
Chance remained calm despite the Mexican stand off developing around him. He looked over his shoulder at Cole. “Well, they haven’t tried eating my brains or ripping out my heart, and like Alessa said, they had plenty of opportunities. AND she put her life on the line to save mine. So, as far as I’m concerned, they’re ok. I’ve known quite a few what you’d call good guy demons. Not everything is black and white, remember. There’s more grey than you’d think.”
*Well, he does have a point. And he seems ok about it, so… Good guy demons?* To him, that was almost as ridiculous as… *As vampires?* Cole thought. Nervously, he went and sat back down again.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled at Alessa and Darlome. The latter didn’t seem to care, but the former smiled an ok at him. He wasn’t quite sure about them just yet, but if the only non-demon-related human in the room said it was all right, then he didn’t really have much ground to argue.
Alessa breathed out, relaxed, and smiled brightly to Chance. For some obscure reason she wanted him to approve of her. She would have hated to see the horrified look she was so used to in his blue eyes.
Then she turned to Darlome. So, he was a demon too… he didn’t look like one, but she knew that she didn’t either. He had been able to spot her though, and she wondered what kind of demon he was.
Vincent was looking her with an uninterested gaze. She looked to him straight in the eye and said “Don’t try that again on me, boy. I don’t care for you prying in my mind.” Vincent shrugged but she could see that he didn’t like to have been spotted.
“So what do you propose us to do Chance?” she asked, her eyes now their normal green. “I don’t really care what happened to that friend of yours, but it seems you could use a hand. I’m already involved anyway.”
Cole relaxed a little with that question. At least they weren’t asking him what to do any more.
Although outwardly Chance appeared open-minded, inwardly he was groaning. Why couldn’t he ever meet ‘normal’ people who weren’t vampires or demons or ran a vampire bar or something like that? He had known a demon who was ok, but only the one. So it wasn’t a complete lie or the absolute truth. Still, one of them had saved his life and the other was a friend of James’, so like he said ‘that made them ok’. He guessed he owed them that much at least. And probably more besides.
What’s more, there was the look Alessa had given him after he calmed Cole. In that brief moment an entire conversation passed between them. Chance found himself aware of the pain she had gone through with her demon side, of the difficulty she had trying to fit in with a human society. His heart went out to her, and his own return look was one of sympathy and understanding and care, which wasn’t something he handed out willy-nilly, not least to somebody he had just met. Although he was the one in the greater danger, he found he wanted to protect her from the harsher edge to the world. An edge he guessed she was aware of, but yet hadn’t discovered to the same degree as he had.
He frowned at her question, though. “Honestly, I don’t know. I must have been high or something up until now. I actually thought I stood at chance at going up against an Elder…” Snorting at his own joke, he also shook his head. “What was I thinking? And this revelation only comes after a brief encounter with what must be only a few of their underlings. What now? Who knows?”
Vincent and Darlome looked at each other again. Also again, it was Darlome who spoke. “We have to find James. If an Elder really is involved… we have to find him.”
Chance nodded. “Right, ok. So, you two guys look around. See if you can find anything out.”
“We’ve tried that,” Vincent said. “That’s why we came to you.”
“I think I may be able to help you,” Cole spoke up. He had until now allowed the conversation to pass him by. All that talk about Elders seemed way out of his league. “There’s a spell I know of that might work.”
But Darlome shook his head. “We’ve tried a locator spell. It didn’t work.”
Cole frowned. “It didn’t work? You mean he didn’t show up? Well, that means he’s dead-“
“No,” Darlome cut in. “It didn’t work. Nothing happened. Just a puff of smoke and that was it.”
“Sounds like some sort of block or something…” Cole speculated.
“That’s what we thought,” Vincent said. “But who would do something like that? Didn’t you say that blocks of that magnitude were hard to cast, Skippy? That you couldn’t do it?” Although he scowled at the kid, Darlome nodded. “So who would be powerful enough to do one?”
Alessa said what was on everybody’s minds and yet reluctant to say. “An Elder, perhaps?”
Silence reigned for a few minutes before Cole broke it. “There’s another one I know of, though. It kind of retraces the steps of somebody over the last couple of weeks. I use it for when I lose my homework…” He blushed.
“That might work,” Darlome nodded. “We should try it right away.” He stood up. Vincent did so too.
“Hey, hey! What’s the rush?” Chance called. “There’s more to it than that. We’ve still got Elders on the loose, and I’m sorry but I’m not gonna let them just rampage through town.”
“Same here. We’ve got to do something,” Alessa agreed. If an Elder was anything like Morris and Chance were saying, well she wasn’t going to try and live a normal life and let this pass her by. Demon or not, she still had a soul and right now it was telling her to help. Vincent and Darlome sat back down again after sharing one of their looks.
“Okay,” Chance said. "You guys do the spell to find James. He was good in a fight, so maybe that’d help our odds. If he’s still alive. I’ll see if I can find anything else about Elders-"
Alessa coughed to interrupt. He turned to look at her.
“Excuse me?” she said, “But you aren’t going anywhere. You may look surprisingly better than you did last night, but you’re still in no condition to go out vampire hunting. I’m sorry, but that’s final.” Chance raised his eyebrows in astonishment. “I’m a teacher,” Alessa added.
“Oh. That’s making sense now.” In spite of the fact he wanted to get out and do something, Chance found himself more than willing to follow her command. “Okay, guess I’m not going anywhere. If you guys could keep your eyes and ears open…”
“We will,” Vincent eagerly agreed, ignoring Darlome’s scowl.
“C’mon,” Darlome said.
They both stood, Cole quickly following. He looked to Chance. “I’m not telling you this because I like you, but because you’re James’ friend. Listen carefully. If you really do have an Elder after you, then you have to be careful. Don’t go back to where you’re staying, don’t visit places you normally do. They’ll be watching. Better off them thinking you’re dead. It’d be for the best if you just stay here.”
“Will do,” Chance said slowly. *Hmm… interesting chap that.* “Keep in touch. And call me before you do anything rash or whatever. James knows I’m handy in a fight.”
“Not like this you’re not,” Alessa contradicted, but Darlome nodded nonetheless.
After a brief exchange of goodbyes, phone numbers, addresses, and in Darlome’s case an e-mail address, it was just Chance and Alessa.
“Well,” he said, breaking the silence of the now quiet apartment. “Thanks again for all this. I mean, you don’t have to or anything. And I’m sorry for getting you caught up in all this. It’s quite a mess.”
“No problem. I was only getting into a nice, normal calm life anyway - oh wait. Now that I think about it… Thanks a lot,” she said in a sarcastic voice, but with a smile as well.
"My pleasure.”
Getting up and waving at him as if to wipe away the comment, she headed for the kitchen. “Coffee?”
Chance smiled. “Sure. Say, you don’t happen to know what happened to my bike did you?” He made to get up, but the lancing pain quickly had him sat back down again.
“Afraid not, sorry.” He heard her answer over the sounds of a tap being run.
“Damn.” *After all we’ve been through together… But I still have my jacket. I couldn’t get rid of it if I tried,* Chance thought, then began considering his situation. “What about all my stuff back at my place? Weapons and… well, just weapons really. I’ll have to go and get them, and without my bike that’d mean walking…”
“I’ll have none of that,” Alessa said, leaning out the kitchen to look at him. “I’ve already told you, you’re in no condition to go anywhere. And didn’t Darlome say it wasn’t safe?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s just…” Chance trailed off, then shrugged. “Besides, I’ll be fine in a couple of hours. I heal really well.”
A couple of hours turned into a day, a day into two and two into a week. Before either of them knew what had happened, it had been a week and a half. During this time Chance stayed at Alessa’s. She made a few trips to his room, ferrying his weapons and clothing back. Each time she was careful, using her demon element to stealthily make her way inside, then taking round-about routes on the way back to make sure she wasn’t followed.
Every few days they got a call from Darlome, Vincent or Cole. They had cast the spell and were now retracing James’ every move. It was slow going as they went to everywhere James had been in the past two weeks. But they were getting closer. Cole said the trail was growing stronger with every day, and sooner rather than later they would be where he was. Or, at least, where he last was, in the case that he was dead. Which was something Vincent and Darlome refused to even consider.
Along the way, they did as Chance asked and looked about for signs of Elders. There were subtle hints everywhere: abandoned vampire nests here, empty vampire bars there. With every passing day there were more and more. It soon became clear Chance was indeed not exaggerating. In contrast, there was no sign of James.
But there was a silver lining to the dark cloud. Alessa and Chance were growing closer together. They recalled stories of their past to each other. After only a few days, they both knew they had found their first true friend in LA.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
August 9th
Outside “Hollywood Tow Service” - Hollywood, CA
5:00 pm
*I hope it works this time,* Alessa thought as she read the sign of the police garage in front of her. She smiled to herself as she imagined the look in Chance’s face when she appeared with his beloved bike again. *If,* she corrected herself. She had already gone to three other official garages only to find that her leads had taken her nowhere.
She stopped for a moment outside the entrance of “HOLLYWOOD TOW SERVICE” looking around as once again she inspected the escape routes she had already planned for. Then she straightened her short skirt and arranged her now blond hair. She didn’t think that somebody would be watching Chance’s motorbike but one could only be so sure. The stakes were too great if they were discovered, so Alessa had covered herself up by changing her appearance every time she made some errand on Chance’s behalf. She was getting more practiced at it, too, although it always took her much more time than it should. Maybe it was the new acceptance that she was getting from Chance what was making it easier for her to accept herself, and thus her demon abilities.
It was incredible how much had happened in the last two weeks. In one arm her life went on as always; she went to work, she socialized with her fellow teachers, she graded papers. On the other, every day she went home to find Chance there, now such an everyday occurrence that she took it for granted. She remembered the time when she had decided to try and find his bike for him...
***
Eight days ago…
“... remember, if you see somebody strange, don’t enter the building." Chance’s voice came from the living room where he was lying on the couch. “And take a turn around to came back, you should be able to spot anybody following you if you take one and...”
Chance stopped cold when he saw the woman in front of him. Alessa had told him that she needed to prepare herself before going to his place, and that she needed to do it alone. That had been almost three hours ago. Only his respect for her had prevented him from entering the room when all sounds ceased to come from it. However, he had almost decided to go in anyway when she had told him that she was going to take a shower, then he had heard her going about the room, getting dressed.
He was telling her all the recommendations he had had time to think about in his time alone when she had appeared in the living room. Alessa's green eyes - he did recognize her eyes - smiled shyly to him from a black woman's face.
"What do you think?" she asked. "Discreet enough?"
Chance had to get up and walk around her before answering, "Awesome," he said. He knew she was a demon, although he hadn’t seen anything inhuman in her, but this was amazing. "Well, yes. I think it is," he said smiling while he observed her new appearance. She was shorter now, her features completely negroid, with close cut bleached hair and even a tattoo on her shoulder. Only her bright green eyes were recognizable.
"You were talking so much about your bike that this just... came," she said signalling her new form, and in fact she looked like a young Harley Davidson fan. She was even wearing tight black leather trousers and a black top. He laughed and nodded in approval.
"I wish I had my bike with me, we could go for a ride." At that moment she had decided she would do anything in her power to give it back to him, she had loved the way he had just accepted her form changing. As matter of factly as he accepted the food she put on the table or gave her the first turn in the bathroom in the mornings.
After another set of recommendations Alessa had left towards Chance’s place. She could see that he didn’t like her doing his errands, but it was safer this way. It was understandable that this “imprisonment” in her house would affect an active, usually lonely man like him, so she put up with his advices and agreed to everything he said. She wasn’t afraid though. One thing she was good at was at going at a low profile. She had done so all her life.
She got to the building without any trouble. The place seemed to be unwatched but of course you couldn’t really know. Accessing the place from a side alley, Alessa watched up towards the upper story of the abandoned building. There was a fire escape, Chance had told her. *Probably around the corner…* Soon enough Alessa was accessing Chance’s room through a window. Once inside she looked around wondering how could he have lived in there.
There was no furniture, only a messy mattress in the farthest possible corner from the curtainless window and a chair and a table. Chance’s belongings were in a doorless locker next to the mattress. *Some underwear, a pair of jeans, shoes… * she was listing to herself while she started putting things into the bag she had brought with her. Although clothes were the last thing he had thought about when he sent her there, Alessa knew he couldn’t spend one more day in the clothes he was wearing. She had been alone too long to own any men’s clothes he could put on. Then she looked for the weapons, the real reason she was there. A night stick, a gun and a crossbow - Chance had told her where he had them hidden.
Less than half an hour after she had arrived she was taking a bus towards Ernie’s house. Chance had advised her to turn around while returning, hadn’t he? Well, that would be a really long turn around, she smiled. She needed to talk to her friend, too much had happened since she had last seen him.
*****
Ernie hadn’t been happy to hear what Alessa got to tell him. He shook his head in disapproval as he heard how she had let a bunch of strangers into her house. However, after a quick look at her stubborn expression he let out a sigh and decided not to say anything about it. He knew that look, he had seen it before when she had come to him after Morris' death. She had been determined then to find the vampires that had killed him, and she had given him that expression after he had told her that it was a crazy search that would lead to nothing. But only after many years without results had she abandoned it. In fact the vampires that had killed his friend had vanished into the thin air.
“Ok,” he said, “so you have this stranger in your house. What did you say his name is?”
“Well, actually I didn’t,” smiled Alessa. “He’s called Chance, but his real name is Felix… something.” She flinched at his groan. “But he’s really ok, Ernie. I can feel it. And he’s English,” she added jokingly.
“Does he know you have demon’s blood?”
“Indeed he does,” she answered, “and he doesn’t mind.” Alessa looked at his friend in the eye, she was her usual self now. “I really like him, Ernie,” she said in earnest.
Ernie sighed again. Well, at least she wouldn’t be alone, he thought, although he didn’t like her living with somebody who had been fighting vampires!! He frowned when he saw that Alessa avoided his eyes. She was either hiding something or there was something she didn’t dare to tell him.
“What is it Alessa? There’s something more, isn’t it?”
Breathing hard, Alessa told him of Chance’s suspicions about the Elders. Ernie didn’t seem surprised though. She watched him with amazement, “You knew about them, Ernie? You knew they were here?”
“Yes, “ he answered after a long pause. “There have been signs… vampire massacres… a rumour in the streets… I hadn’t confirmed it, though, until now.”
Alessa leaned over him, as she listened to what Ernie had to say about the Elders.
*****
Coming back to the present, Alessa breathed in and entered the seedy garage. A big, really big man looked up from a newspaper and watched her through a barred little window.
“Yesss?” he asked.
Alessa beamed to the man. “I’m here for an impounded bike. A Harley Davidson.” She gave him another bright smile. Without much enthusiasm, Mr. Big moved his big bulk and approached the window. He put on his glasses and took a bunch of papers.
“Plates?” he asked, already going through the list of impounded vehicles. Alessa knew this was coming.
“Well, actually, it isn’t registered,” she said, and smiled again. Let the man think she was a stupid bimbo. She opened her mouth again and without breathing she started telling him in a shrieking foolish voice. “I wanted to release my boyfriend’s Harley Davidson. You know, my boyfriend, he’s the owner, well, he was in a fight and the bastards took his bike. My boyfriend loves that bike, he really does, you know, and he’s in the hospital recovering. I thought I could get his bike to him, you know, like a welcome home present. I called to the Station, you know, and they told me it could be here.” She stopped and smiled brilliantly to the man again, who was watching her with a bored expression in his eyes.
“Well, it is here. But if you aren’t the registered owner, I can’t give it to you. And you have to have the release to get it.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “I wanted so much to surprise my boyfriend…” She pouted prettily. “Isn’t there anything I could do to get that bike?” she asked seductively and watched him while his gaze went up and down her figure. She knew he was alone, all the other employees had already left. His wide smile showed cigarette stained little teeth while he opened the door and led her to the back office.
Fifteen minutes later, Alessa was standing next to the bike. Mr. Big dead to the world in the back office. He would wake up in a while, with a headache and too ashamed to have been hit by a woman to talk about it.
*No wonder Chance loves it,* she thought as she walked around the bike admiring it. Even though she had the spare key, taken from Chance’s locker, she wondered if she could drive this bike. It was much bigger than any bike she had ever driven.
A shout startled her. *Whoops, Mr. Big’s head is thicker than I thought.* Without more thinking about the matter, Alessa jumped onto the bike and started it. The big thing purred powerfully as she headed towards the garage’s entrance. Mr. Big was standing in front of her, trying to close the gates she had already opened, but he jumped to the side as he saw that she had no intention to stop.
Alessa exhilarated in the speed as she left “Hollywood Tow Service” behind her. She knew the police would follow her soon enough, though. But she had it all planned. After making sure nobody was following her, she entered an alley and hid herself and the bike under the big pile of cardboard boxes she had spotted there earlier. Then, sitting down, she concentrated to get rid of the blond bimbo form. Three hours later, when she got out of the alley, with a different form and clothes, it was already dark and the police had long been gone.