*** 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
Wednesday, October 18th, 2006 - 3:45 am
Pain - horrible, incredible overbearing pain - was all Darian felt as his head bobbed up, signaling his return from the coma. The anguish was so all encompassing that he hardly took notice of the two vampires feeding greedily from each of his forearms.
The chains that had bound his wrists were no longer attached to the roof, but instead to the walls, forcing his body to take the position of a cross, allowing the blood suckers easier access to his limbs. He was certain the two would drink him dry, but the lure of sweet death vanished with the arrival of their dark lord.
“You’ve had enough, now leave us!” Dathan bellowed as the strode into the room. The two underlings fled without a word, leaving only the towering behemoth. “Do you long for death, young Darian?”
The fae did not respond, having barely the energy to even lift his eyes to meet the devil before him.
“Of course you do. How could you not wish for the sweet release of oblivion? But you will not die fae, I will not deliver you so mercifully from this world, not unless you give me what I want.” Uncharacteristically, Dathan’s usually brutal hand gently lifted Darian’s head, allowing the fae to look upon the face of his captor.
“Just give in, and allow me to release Evexus once more, and all your pain and suffering will end.”
“I… I..,”
Dathan waited eagerly for Darian to finish his sentence, believing the boy was ready to end it.
“I… won't ever… give into you..” Darian managed to choke out.
“YOU WILL GIVE ME WHAT I WANT!” the Ancient roared, backhanding his prisoner in the face. Fresh blood spurted from Darian’s mouth and nose, splattering across the dark cement walls.
“Why do you even bother to resist me? You know it is inevitable; save yourself the toture!” Dathan added, retrieving a small ritual dagger from his pants, allowing the blade to cut into the fae’s already wounded stomach.
“Oh God,” Darian whimpered, unable to choke back his cry of pain.
“I’ve told you before, God does not have the power the save you from me.”
Darian knew the Ancient spoke the truth. There would be no divine intervention, freeing him from the diabolic antics of Dathan. He would die here, that he was sure of. He just wished it would be sooner than later.
The small knife slid once again through the fae’s soft skin, this time closer to the fresh bite wound on his right arm. His body convulsed as waves of pure undiluted throbbing washed over him anew. His brain told him to just give up and give Dathan what he wanted, that if he did the aching would end. But despite the promise of release, his sheer unbridled hatred for the monster would never allow him to give in.
“Be brave as long as you want, gnat. Eventually your spirit will break, and when that time comes I will have what I want,” Dathan taunted, making another incision into Darian’s left arm.
“You may want to be careful, you make too many cuts, and I'll bleed to death,” the fae whispered rebelliously.
“Don’t worry about that,” the vampire chuckled, walking around so he now faced his prey’s back. “I’ve had plenty of time to master this art. The blade sliced swiftly across Darian’s muscled back.
Up on the main floor of the Hyperion, a group of vampires stopped their chatter as their keen ears picked up a man’s agonizing cries coming from the cellar below. A large smile appeared on one of their faces, as he turned to his brethren. “Isn't it a beautiful sound?"
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Subway Station Hollywood/Highland
15th October,
9:12pm
At Hollywood Subway Station Highland, it was the usual hustle and bustle as the car arrived. Even despite the fact that this was LA and almost everybody used the car and shunned public transport, some people still took the subway.
Tonight, it was packed full. The last person to board squeezed on just before the doors closed. Justin Sterling looked around for somewhere to sit, but it was hopeless. Most of the passengers were standing. So he grabbed onto a hand rail and prepared to make his long journey home standing. If only his car hadn’t broken down, if only he didn’t finish work late.
Justin shook his head. No use worrying about that now. He’d just have to wait it out.
Sitting a few seats down in a long coat, Dray’chen surveyed the passengers with the air of amusement that one has when one knows something everybody else doesn’t. That something being, of course, slaughtering everybody on the train.
Once he judged they had gone far enough, the demon stood up. Many people watched him closely, especially the old woman standing nearby, hoping for his seat. Dray’chen chuckled at that. *The poor fools, worrying about getting a seat when their lives are to end.*
Well, he would give them something to look at. Dray’chen drew his sword, which was concealed by the coat. There was so little room that, even as he unsheathed the blade, it cut through two passengers in a spray of blood that covered half a dozen others. They turned in surprise, and were in turn cut down.
It was then that the screaming started.
At Hollywood Station Western the car came to a gradual stop. The doors opened and those waiting to board stepped back to let those on get off.
But nobody stepped off. Several people waiting swapped glances, and a few more ventured closer to the doors and looked inside.
What they saw made all scream and many throw up. Each one of them backed out onto the platform. Whilst some people ran to comfort them, others moved into the carriage to look for themselves.
They found it a literal blood bath. Bodies and body parts littered the interior. Blood covered all surfaces and ran freely on the floor, pooling at the bottom of the walls and dripping off chairs.
Those people, too, screamed and retched.
By the time the police had arrived to discover not a soul was left alive onboard, Dray’chen was long gone. After climbing out the moving car he had made his way into the tunnels, licking the blood off his sword with the echoes of his laughter following him into the darkness.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Alhambra Station,
Monday 16th October,
1:33pm
Dray’chen sat on a graffiti-covered bench by a newspaper stand. A paper was open in his hands, but he wasn’t reading it. Instead he was watching the world of Alhambra Station Platform 1 go by. Watching the people head to and fro. Watching all their individual problems as they came into the open. Watching and smiling, for he would soon solve all their troubles.
He remained sitting till a PA announced a train was about to pull up. Before it could arrive Dray’chen was up on his feet, heading to the centre of the platform. The paper he had left discarded on the bench. Now, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small object. It was a diamond, perfectly shaped and with a slight orange tint. As the demon walked he whispered to it; holding it up close to his mouth.
By the time he had reached his position, the train had stopped and the doors opened. Passengers poured from the carriages onto the platform, into the midst of those waiting to board.
Dray’chen waited until all who was getting off had done so. Then, with the diamond still in one hand, he reached up with the other and grabbed a businessman walking hurriedly past him. One final word, shouted aloud, was all the demon had left to do.
“Cumbustaie!”
The suit screamed as he abruptly burst into flames. He let go of the suitcase, but the intense searing heat had melted the handle into his hands. It happened so quickly he didn’t even move, and even if he had Dray’chen would have held him in place. Others in the station watched his final death throes whilst paralysed to the spot. Only when there was nothing left but a blackened corpse slowly crumbling to ash did they begin screaming as well, and running too.
However, before the unholy flames had entirely burnt themselves out, they leapt from the roasting businessman to people nearby and began burning them, and then from then onto others. The screaming grew, as did the running but it was futile. The flames travelled and burnt faster than the people ran, and nobody was able to escape them.
Dray’chen stood in the centre of the conflagration, his eyes glowing their green as contrasted to the dozens of blazing fires and smiling broadly. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils and he breathed it in deeply. The sound of screaming and crying was sweet music to his ears.
Within minutes, it was all over. The demon was the only thing left standing in the station. Even those on the train carriages had not escaped, and they had burnt too. A number of people had stumbled around and fallen into newspaper stands like the one he had been sitting next to earlier and other such things, for fires were blazing across the platform. They too quickly spread until the entire station was ablaze.
In Dray’chen’s left hand, the diamond had burnt itself out. The trace of orange had gone, leaving it nothing but black. Dray’chen crushed it and ashes crumbled out of his hand. He dusted both hands off, turned and left. The flames, although touching him, failed to burn him. They were, after all, born of his dark spell.
It was, he considered, a pity that the Dark Fire diamond had burnt out. You didn’t come by them often any more, ever since the portal to the dimension they came from had closed up several centuries ago. And even of those rare ones you might find, most of them were fake.
Dray’chen had been hoarding that one since he was last in control of his host. He had kept it back in London, waiting for a special occasion. When he decided to use it, it had taken just two phone calls and one magical conversation to a few old contacts of his and the Brotherhood to have it sent over to LA on express delivery.
And now it was gone. *Ah, well. It had been worth it, that was for sure,* Dray’chen thought to himself as he left, still smiling.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Saturday, 21st October 2006 – 9:30pm
Tash paced restlessly around the penthouse, her feet sinking into the plush carpet. She still hadn’t really settled into her new surroundings yet, but it was far better than being in her old place. It had been days since she’d felt she had anything useful to contribute to the effort of bringing down the Elders. All that could be done now was wait for the flower Kate had mentioned to finish steeping in the river water, wherever it was. She spent hours every day locked in the training room, honing her skills for the battle ahead, but still it was just marking time. She hated waiting.
And with nothing concrete to occupy her, it became harder and harder to avoid sinking into a deep depression. The cathartic session with Sorrow on Venice Beach had held her this long, but time was weighing heavily on her again and she felt trapped, her emotions pent up. Even hunting hadn’t been possible, lately, since most of the vampires left in town were part of the Brotherhood’s entourage and she didn’t want to risk tipping their hand to the Elders.
But maybe there were some remnants of vampires left elsewhere in the city. Some creatures out there feeding on human blood, on which she could exercise a little personal therapy. From what she could gather, it seemed that the Brotherhood’s ‘ethnic cleansing’ campaign had all but ceased since the Slayer was taken and turned. Maybe the survivors were beginning to relax a little by now.
Shrugging, Tash didn’t really believe she’d find much of anything, but she couldn’t stay cooped up here alone much longer. She couldn’t go to friends for distraction either, for they were in short supply these days. Daye was busy with Bibliophile and preparations for the upcoming spell, and Kate was involved with her family. Alice had all but disappeared since their return to LA and Reah had been busy, out looking for Sabarov, Tash presumed.
And she’d not seen Darian since that night they’d restored him, despite numerous calls and visits she’d made to his apartment. That worry nagged at the back of her mind, too, that Darian might have got himself into trouble somehow. She could only hope he hadn’t been stupid enough to go after Dathan. Sorrow, of course, was still hiding out there somewhere and Tash could only send up a silent wish that he was still all right. She knew Jade’s defection had cut him deeply, especially given her motivation for it.
As for her other friends… they were dead. Or if not dead, then gone. Victor and Matthias were as good as dead to her, and even Matthias’ short reappearance hadn’t offered her any hope that she’d ever see him again, given the circumstances. And whatever remained of Victor was locked up in a temple on G’rnatha. She knew Alice had clubbed her, and then dragged her through the portal, somehow guessing that Tash planned on staying behind. She’d barely seen Alice since, and supposed that Alice must be staying away because she felt bad about what she’d done - Tash could understand that. She had to admit, a large part of her still wanted to be on G’rnatha, even though she would never have survived. Tash harboured a distinct element of resentment for that.
But then she wouldn’t be here now for her friends, when they needed her to help with the catastrophe that faced them. With the Brotherhood growing stronger with every Slayer death, Tash knew it wouldn’t be long before they were totally unstoppable, even to the point where the spell they had would no longer be effective against the Elders. They were evolving into something more than mere vampires. And a handful of emotional cripples were all that stood between the world and a new reign of terror.
Tash stopped her pacing. It would be amusing if it weren’t so tragic, she thought.
Her mind resolved, she loaded up on weapons then retrieved her motorbike from its new home in the corner of the training room and was soon roaring down Poplar Avenue. Wind rushed by her and she bared her teeth into it. “Beware, creatures of the night,” she yelled melodramatically, “for your nemesis doth approach!”
*****
Deon refused to relax. There had been no major anti-vampire activity for two months now, but still he maintained his vigilance, especially since the recent spate of seemingly random acts of destruction and slaughter. Deon knew full well that the local demons weren’t responsible. He could only assume the Brotherhood had something to do with it.
And Tash was back. He’d seen his sister entering 1318 Poplar Avenue a couple of weeks ago and now merely waited for a time when he could approach. But then the stupid woman had started spending all her time hanging about near the centre of the Brotherhood’s activities, an area Deon dared not go. He was amazed to find she’d managed to survive the poking about, and surmised that she’d found what she was looking for. The past several days she’d been cloistered in that apartment building, not emerging for anything.
One thing puzzled him, though. If Tash had been looking for the Brotherhood’s location, presumably she wouldn’t have stopped until she found it. Even as a child she’d always been annoyingly thorough. But if she knew where they were, why hadn’t those so-called ‘White Hats’ done anything? Which led him to believe that Tash and her equally crazy friends weren’t quite ready to take on the Elders just yet. *First sensible thing you’ve done, sis. Leave those buggers alone – they’ll eviscerate you. And I so want to do that myself.*
Then tonight she was finally on the move again. Rising from his hiding place he followed in her wake, loping quickly through the streets, relieved that at least this time she was going away from West Hollywood rather than towards it. He didn’t have to travel far, though. He heard her bike’s distinctive roar go quiet and die, and rounded the corner to see her disappearing into the murky interior of Bob’s Bar. *Ah, the old faithful haunts, eh sis? You’ll find it’s changed a bit since you were last there.*
He fingered the amulet around his neck, confident of its power even after such a long time between doses. She’d succumbed so easily to it the first time, he had no doubt that she’d fall under its sway once more. Deon’s teeth shone brightly in a feral grin and he settled back into some shadows to watch for her return.
*****
Even though Tash knew the local vamp population was way down, it still came as a shock to her to see Bob’s Bar so empty at this time on a Saturday night. An assortment of demons – no more than half a dozen all told – lounged around the bar, drinking. A pair of Kailiff demons played pool on the battered table in the far corner, and Bob himself looked even more nervous than usual, if such a thing was possible.
He rolled his eyes when he saw her, and when she approached the bar she noticed he was leaning on a walking stick.
“What’s the matter, Bob? Did you piss off your customers one too many times?” she nodded to the stick.
“Very funny. I only got off the crutches last week. And I’ll tell you for free – it was a human what did it to me. All ‘cause of that bitch friend of yours, Kate.” Bob practically spat Kate’s name.
Tash’s eyes widened. “Wha..? No, never mind,” she dismissed the accusation, “It’s not important.” She laid a $20 note on the bar and slid it across, dropping her voice. “I’m more interested in where a girl could go to find some vampires. And no, I’m not at all interested in going anywhere near the Elders, thanks very much. Just wondering if the locals have started to come out of the woodwork yet.”
Bob stared at the money, then poured Tash a brandy and scooped up the note. “Not what you’d call vampire activity, apart from the Four’s mob. But there’s been plenty happening lately.”
Tash sipped the brandy, ignoring the low quality. She raised an eyebrow at Bob to go on, but Bob merely looked down at the bar and coughed quietly.
With a sigh, Tash gulped her brandy down and said a little louder, “Same again, thanks.” And she slid across another $20.
A fresh glass of cheap brandy appeared in front of her and the second note disappeared as fast as the first. Tash had long ago discovered that Bob worked best if you kept the question and answer session as subtle as possible, when most of his clientele were the very beings you wound up beating the shit out of. When it became too obvious what was going on the demons and vampires in the bar couldn’t ignore it any longer. She was sure they all knew what was going on here, but so long as they kept up the charade there was no interference. And that kept Bob happiest – and most forthcoming.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve been watching the TV news…” Bob rolled his eyes again at Tash’s headshake. “How are you supposed to find anything out if you don’t watch the damn news? Anyway, there’s been a lot of random shit going down, all over the place, and not all of it due to the Four. It started with train stations, then LAX, Disney… Rumour has it there’s a new demon in town. He’s been killing hundreds.”
Tash swirled the alcohol around her glass. “I don’t give a shit about demons, Bob, I’m more interested in vamps. You know that.”
“Well, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but there aren’t many about any more. Except-“
“Yeah, yeah, I know. The ‘Four’,” Tash grumbled. Then she frowned, “Hang on, are you telling me the Elders are ranging outside their own area now?”
Bob nodded. “Yeah, and then some. I’d be careful out there, if I were you. I’ve heard stories about them that’d make your hair stand on end.”
“But there must be some local vamps still around,” Tash protested. “I’m so sick of doing nothing.”
Bob eyed Tash speculatively. He didn’t really understand what drove the hunter types, but he thought he understood Tash’s sudden need for action. “You know, I heard about where you went, and that you came back without that Victor guy. I just wanna give you my condolences on that.”
For a moment the section of bar Tash could see became a little blurry, then she blinked away the moisture and set her features into something resembling impassive. “Yeah, thanks Bob. I just need me some butt to kick, ok?”
Bob shrugged, “Well, like I said, most of it lately has been this new demon – and he’s nasty, I can’t believe you’ve not heard about it. It’s all over the news. They’re saying it’s a crazy mass murderer, but I know better. But yeah, apart from him and the Four who are doing their own thing with the Slayer chick, there’s not much here for ya. What’s left of the locals are keeping their heads down, ya know, especially with Ulle around as well.”
Tash drained the dregs of her glass and plonked it down on the bar surface. “Hmm. Well, I could try my hand at demon hunting, I suppose.”
Bob simply shook his head.
“What?”
“I wouldn’t be going up against him. You really should watch the news. He set hundreds of people on fire, sweetie. You wouldn’t stand a chance. It needs more than a single human hunter to take that one down, I reckon. Stick to what ya know.”
“Well, I would,” Tash retorted, “except you’ve not been very forthcoming on where the surviving vamps are.”
Bob wrung his hands, “I feel kinda bad for them… they’ve been chucked out of their usual haunts, had to go underground. I don’t wanna sic no hunter on ‘em. Don’t seem right.”
“Bob, if you won’t tell me, I’ll have my money back,” Tash hissed between her teeth.
Nervous shuffling followed that remark, until Bob sighed and leaned in close. His foul breath made Tash’s nose wrinkle as he whispered, “Ok, but you didn’t get it from me, right? I hear tell a few of ‘em are literally underground now… hiding out in the old sewers and tunnels under the city.”
A pair of demons approached the bar, looking surly, and Bob straightened up, wiping at the bar with his dirty cloth. “So, you want something else to drink, miss?”
Tash shook her head ruefully and pushed herself off the bar stool to her feet. “No, no I think I’ve had enough.”
*****
The fresh air outside was welcome relief after the dank interior of Bob’s Bar and Tash breathed deeply, welcoming the coolness. She started towards her bike, but a small figure with the unmistakeable aura of a vampire emerged from the shadows with a smile plastered on its face. The shock of recognition halted Tash in her tracks.
“Patrick,” she whispered. Memories flooded back to her, of how she’d visited him many times in the months before G’rnatha. But they’d seemed like dreams – memories of her childhood. Except now she knew they were real. Somehow he’d affected her senses and memory.
“Hiya, sis,” Deon said brightly, fingering the amulet, “Wanna take me to the ice cream shop?”
Tash blinked in confusion. She felt a little dizzy, and more than a little nauseous. Her little brother, the only one who’d been her true friend as a child, was really a vampire. She’d guessed it back in January when there was all that business with Darian and Loki – how could she have forgotten? The amulet caught her eye, its strange design almost hypnotic.
“Damn you,” she snarled, much to Deon’s consternation. “You aren’t my brother – you just use his stolen body.”
“But Tash, it’s me. It’s Patrick. Don’t you remember?” Deon held the amulet in the palm of his hand now, feeling frustrated. *Isn’t it working properly? I’ll kill that damn wizard Ethan if it isn’t!*
He advanced slowly, entreating, “Don’t you remember, Tash? We used to go down to the river’s edge and see the paddle boats go by, watching all the tourists gawking at the Arch. We used to play those guessing games, where you’d think of a word and I’d have to guess it. We could try that now, if you like. It’s still me, Tash.”
Tash’s features twisted with conflicting emotions. She wanted to believe him; wanted to rush towards him and greet her long-lost brother. But she could see the black aura that surrounded him. No spark of Patrick remained. This creature was something else entirely. Before she even realised it, she had a stake in one hand and a vial of holy water in the other.
“No, it’s not you, Patrick.”
She hurled the water at him. Although he dodged the bulk of it, a few drops splashed onto him. He snarled and his features changed from the sweet, cherubic countenance of her little brother to his new, true face. The face of a monster. A face she could kill.
Deon swore, “You fucking bitch, how did you break the spell?”
He lashed out, catching Tash a solid blow to the ribs and sending her spinning into the wall. She pushed off it to right herself and spun, ducking to avoid the next strike that was aimed at her face. She responded with a kick of her own, connecting with a glancing jolt to the side of Patrick’s head.
“Spell? So that’s how you did it.” She narrowly avoided another punch, and followed up with a flurry of kicks and punches of her own, thinking, *How did it get broken? Maybe the portal…* It had weakened the magic that bound Evexus to Darian, so maybe it had weakened whatever magic Patrick had used, too.
Then in a movement almost too fast to follow, Patrick was behind her, an arm wrapped around her throat. His child’s voice hissed in her ear, “Well now, sis, how would you like to rejoin your brother properly? I can offer eternal life.”
Unable to see him, Tash closed her eyes at the memories just the sound of Pat’s voice conjured up. “Patrick,” she began, but he cut her off.
“No, not Patrick any more, stupid bitch. My name is Deon now.”
The grip around her neck tightened and suddenly it all became much easier for her. Pat had never spoken this way.
“Deon, huh? Ok, Deon,” she jabbed an elbow in his midriff and slipped under his choke-hold. “Firstly, I don’t think there are many prospects for a non-Brotherhood vampire in LA right now. And secondly,” she executed a perfect judo throw, inwardly wincing at the thud as ‘Deon’ landed heavily on the pavement, “I don’t really have anything worth living eternally for any more, anyway.”
She straddled the fallen vampire and looked into her brother’s eyes. His features had softened back into Patrick’s familiar, angelic face and those brown orbs gazed into hers unflinchingly. He stared down at the stake she had pressed against his breastbone, and he smiled.
“You can’t do it, can you? Can you really murder your kid brother? My face will haunt you in your dreams if you do.”
A tear fell from Tash’s cheek onto his jacket. Then his body dissolved, showing a child’s skeleton before collapsing into a small pile of dust.
“Oh, your face already haunts my dreams, little brother,” Tash said to the empty air.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
22 October 2006
7:30pm
Reah dragged a struggling man along, gripping him firmly with her hand clawing into the hair on his scalp. The man thrashed about and cried out, grasping for her relentless hand and attempting to punch her in the ribs at the same time.
“Look! Just shut up, you bloody bugger. And stop that!” Reah kneed him solidly in the jaw and hauled him up clear off the ground, “It’s really annoying.”
She dropped the averagely built man back to the ground, causing him to holler out once again at the excessive pain, his screams bouncing off the walls. Reah was half surprised his scalp had managed to stay attached so long as she continued to drag the writhing man who gripped desperately at her wrist, along the mould-stained, abandoned concrete corridor.
As she began to near an opening, Reah pulled the man back up to his feet, rolling her eyes as he cursed his many revenges upon her, and gripped the back of his pants to lever him off the ground again. Just before she made her entrance, she recklessly hurled the man ahead into the room of her to crash land in a pile of, now, broken crates.
Reah shot a tired and irritated glance at Trigger as she soon stalked in behind the wretched man after he made his unceremonious entrance, before turning her despairing stare to the cause of her bad mood.
“Look! I want to make this quick: where is Sabarov?” Reah questioned the man openly and impatiently.
The man shook his head painfully, clutching it in his hands as he rolled into a seated position on the damp floor. “Never heard of the guy,” he said, slowly crawling into a stand on his feet.
Reah sighed with exasperation, swiftly reaching under her coat to whip out her Ares Predator and shooting the man squarely in the shoulder without so much as a blink.
“I’m sorry. You were saying?”
The man screamed out again, staggering back from the blow, now clutching his dead left shoulder and rocking back and forth, muttering curses the whole time through gritted teeth, “He’s not here!”
Reah blew out his other shoulder, “Really? Ya think! We fucken already know where he’s bloody not!”
Trigger let out a deep sigh, resting his gun in his hand. "Look, pal, do you know where the guy is? Yes or no?"
The struggling man just stood there with a look of confusion, before Trigger fired one shot into his head. "Fucking useless idiot."
Trigger was near the breaking point. Mostly he was both surprised and impressed with Reah's act. If he didn't know any better, he would say that she herself was seriosly attempting to find Sabarov. "Look, pal," he said, stalking around to the other side. "You don't tell me what I need to know, I'm gonna kill you. Got that?"
"Yeah? Fuck you," the man spit, earning him a fist to the jaw from Reah.
"Nice form," Damen told her, before turning back to the man. "Look, let me make this simple. Sabarov's location, do you know it? Yes or no."
"No!"
Bang! Trigger looked down at the lifeless corpse sitting on the floor in front of him. What a waste of a good bullet, he thought. "Gather you've no luck either, eh, sweetie?" he asked, turning to face Reah again.
“I’ve come across piss that was stronger!” Reah turned a sly, crooked grin up at Trigger. *Sweetie? Man, I should so kill you, right now, just for that!* “...Sugar.”
*I swear, I'm gonna shoot her if she calls me that one more time. Sabarov or no.* "Yeah, and the snitches have all become surprisingly tight lipped. It's like this guy fucking knows we're going to drill him." Though it would be nice, Triger thought, if he could shoot the bastard a second time
Reah shook her head, rolling her eyes, “We’ll find the bastard. I’ll make sure of that.” *One way or another. I‘ll do it on my own, too, if this guy doesn‘t stop shitting me up the wall; calling me fucken ‘sweetie’.*
"So what now! Got any more leads?" Reah quirked her head to the side, waiting patiently for a reply. "I really don't think I'm quite ready to give up and go home for the night, already." Reah continued to stand there, leaning on her right leg and tapping her gun expectantly on her left thigh as she made careful study of the man's movements and reactions. *I just know he’s not letting on everything!*
*Why did you pick this profession, babe, and not fucking acting?* "Nothin'. Bone dry nothin'," was what he said out loud. Reah seemed a bit suspicious of him from the position of her hand near the gun, not that he blamed her. "I've checked every stool-ola from here to Bob's Bar; nobody knows shit about shit. Come on, let's get some food," he suggested, casually stepping over the dead body to head towards the door.
Reah smirked ruefully behind Trigger’s back as he passed by her towards the exit. Sparing one final glance at the corpse, her smile turned feral as she stepped up after the man, following him to the corridor.
“Hmm,” she agreed, “How’d you get here?”
“Car.”
“That’s nice,” Reah grinned deviously. Catching up to Damen, she lightly planted her hand on his shoulder, “Just don’t go driving up my arse on the freeway.” She smirked mischievously to herself as she pressed past him, strutting casually ahead towards the exit.
Trigger slowly shook his head to himself. *Too... fucking... chipper... to... live...* Still, he had to do something to stay close to her. Already a plan was becoming clear for when they had to move. "Yeah, well, you know the way driving is," he said, starting on a rant. It was one of the things about him that genuinely amused Reah.
"It's always the same fucking thing, every time. Bastards running around, honking their horns, the freeway backed up for three hours to the point where a guy on roller blades could reach Pasadena before you. But what really pisses me off is those fucking road rage drivers. Jesus Christ, you need a tank to survive those assholes."
Chuckling, Reah shook her head and shot a quick glance over her shoulder at him, eyebrow quirked, *He really likes to overreact, doesn’t he?*
“Dear,” she started, turning to face back to where she was walking, “Just shoot the buggers!”
"Nah, they ain't worth the cost of bullets," he replied. *Dear. You must pay.* "Now those idiots who ride bikes in the city; lock ‘n’ load! What are they thinking? Them and the vegetarian vegan animal rights liberation front wackos. Those are the real annoying people, cupcake."
Reah choked openly, faltering a couple of steps before she managed to brace herself. *CUPCAKE!* She took a moment to notice her hand had managed to snake its way up to her holster and managed to stop herself before she blasted the guy's head off right then and there. *This is abso-friggen-lutely ridiculous! He will die! Painfully!*
Reah’s head snapped around in a venomous flash, her mouth twisted, full of loathing for the man as she glared balefully at Trigger’s smug little smile. Then, as unexpected as a changing wind, her face softened, a playful smile returning as she leered cunningly into his eyes, “Whatever you reckon,” she said, tilting her head tenderly and pouting her soft lips, “Schnookums.”
Schnookums. He couldn't believe it. She. Called. Him. Schnookums. *Like something out of Barney the purple fucking dinosaur.* The game of one-upsmanship had turned both serious and deadly.
Schnookums.
Fucking schnookums.
Oh, the ways to inflict pain and death that he had used in the past. Which he pushed down as she faced him. If she was going to play it up, he might as well feign interest. "Thanks, my little Creme Puff," the flyting continued. *There. Top that one if we're going to see who can come up with the sappiest names.* Suddenly the appetite for food left.
Though her stomach writhed, Reah could’ve collapsed in a fit of giggles. She could tell he was struggling now. With a beaming smile she sunk her gaze deeper into his, *Should’ve left out ‘my little’.* The fact that he had called her ‘crème puff’, though, did piss her off, but she wasn‘t going to let him beat her, “Is something wrong, Pooky bear?”
*Calm, I'm calm, I'm perfectly, completely under control...* he ran the showtune through his head. It seemed to help calm him some. Something was wrong, and it was the very fact that they were still having this conversation. "Nothing at all, snuggle upigous."
Reah’s teeth gritted mercilessly. It was going to end in bloody tears and vomit, she could tell *This is so friggen frustrating, sickening and childish!* “That’s it!” She cut it off with one sharp gesture, “Let's just get some bloody food already!” She spun about sharply on her heel and stormed off towards the exit, muttering to herself in irritation, “Fucking snuggle upigous.” *I am so going to kill you.*
*Thank GOD!* Trigger thought, in a small feeling of triumph mixed with disgust. Triumph at winning the flyting contest; disgust at the fucking names. “Fucking excellent!” he snapped. “Go out, drink beer, eat pizza, smoke, and try to find another lead.”
It was another thirty minutes before they had bad Chinese food and were in the middle of the take-out place speaking in low voices about what to do next. Reah stabbed at a piece of beef in frustration. It was near hopeless, and she was still partly pissed off form their earlier episode, which didn’t help much either.
“Paper trails, maybe!” Reah suggested, her annoyance shining as clear and crisp as crystal through her sharp, sarcastic tone. “Phone calls!”
A strand of her hair kept falling in front off her face, tickling the brim of her nostril, irritating her further as her nose twitched in weak attempt to be rid of it.
Munching on the chow mein, Trigger thought that Reah at least looked a touch cute with the hair flopping about her face. That was about the only consolation to being called by those... names. "Or we can switch tactics," he suggested, another mouthfull of chow mein disappearing into his mouth. "We can try to find out who took the contract. Grab them, use them to find Sabarov. Guy had to meet with 'em, right?"
“If that’s how Sabarov works, then yeah!” Reah answered cooly without even the slightest flinch at the remark. She’d prepared herself well for this, especially for the person she was working with. For some strange reason, Reah felt she worked best and was more comfortable when playing hands on with fire. “You know him better than I do, after all! Never even heard of the prick until you came around with your… news.” She sighed morosely, now rolling the slice of beef, with her chop sticks, around the rim of her food.
It was with a very large amount of surprise he realised that Reach actually felt guilty about the job. That at least was no act, and would be something definitely worth mentioning. Still, he could show a bit of sympathy to Reah. It would certainly help for later. "You and Nik were close, weren't you?" he asked softly. "Real close."
She smiled softly, a slight amusement pulling at the corner of her mouth, but only for an instant, “He was nice, though...” She shook her head despairingly and concentrated deeper on her beef strip, furrowing her brow, “I don’t know what he thought of me. The circumstances were… well… He probably didn’t think much of it. Most guys don’t,” she mumbling solemnly, a hint of detestation underlining her breath.
“Though I suppose that considering there wasn’t much reason to concern him into believing otherwise,” she added, resuming her normal tone of voice.
Trigger used the chow mein to hide his own surprise and amusement. They had gone all the way? Nik had not told him that, in fact he had implied that they stopped short. Indeed she had nearly broken his neck on G'rnatha.
"Well, he was always something of a funny guy. Very controlled. I don't think that he would have made love to you if he didn't like you." There, it was said.
Reah quirked an eyebrow at that, *Love?* “Sorry to burst your fantasy there,” she peered at him over the table, her head tilted on its side, her cheek leaning on a curled up fist, “Circumstances didn’t allow us to get that far.” She shrugged, “And even if he was acting out of the ordinary, who could blame him? I don’t think he was really thinking much at the time.”
Shaking her head, she finally lifted the beef to her mouth where it then lingered, waiting. She paused again, her mouth leisurely closing into a distant smirk, “I don’t think anyone could really describe the moment.”
He had tried to describe it, all right. Neither of them had really planned it, it just sort of happened. "That sounds like Nik." Whatever had happened, he got the feeling that she had definitely enjoyed it. "Well, don't worry. We'll get revenge for him. He would have wanted that."
Reah’s eyes locked on Damen’s for a moment, a deathly stillness passing over her, hardening her features, “I’ve no doubt he would,” she answered baldly, “And he’ll get it, too.”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
October 22nd.
1:30 pm
Alessa hung up the phone and leaned tiredly on the crystal wall of the public booth. She had called Cole to see if he was all right, and to reassure him about her whereabouts. As she had thought, Chance had paid him a visit but fortunately the kid’s magic had kept him from harm. She had also learned from a worried neighbor that somebody had broken and entered in her apartment.
So far his behavior had been predictable, she thought. She had paid attention to the word in the streets too, and there were rumors of a powerful demon creating mayhem around, working for the Brotherhood. Even the news were showing scenes of attacked buildings and numerous casualties; she had seen images of Alhambra Train Station and they still made her shiver. The media and police were speculating on the attacks being made either by terrorists or a mass murderer. Fortunately the drawing portrait that was circulating wasn’t really accurate, since not many of those who had actually seen Dray’chen had survived. That was good, she didn’t want to have Chance back only to be taken to prison or death.
What most puzzled her was why the power of the Brotherhood hadn’t turned on her by now. She knew that Dray’chen was still looking for her, Cole had confirmed this, but there wasn’t any rumor of the Elders doing so. If, as she suspected, Chance’s memories were clear for the demon she didn’t know why he hadn’t told the Elders about the impending ritual yet. The only explanation that she could think of was that he may be biding his time, maybe withholding the information to have an upper hand on the situation. Another possibility was that he wanted to kill her himself and didn’t want the Brotherhood to do it for him, although she didn’t think that he found her that important. *He would love to make Chance suffer, though,* she thought, biting her lip, as she left the phone booth and walked down the street.
Alessa had been hiding for ten days by now, and she felt tired and distressed. The physical strain of keeping different forms for so long was taking its toll, and her worries about Chance weren’t helping her either. Neither was the feeling that she was behaving like a coward, waiting for others to do her job. She shook her head in despair, but she had done all she could. She had gone to Kate, and she knew the witch was working on a binding spell, advising her to keep a low profile while she did so. She had been in touch with her and Daye by phone, assuring them of the safety of the flower. She knew she should have given the flower to them for safekeeping, but the few seconds of peace she experienced while changing its water were the only happy times lately, and she wouldn’t give them up.
She was thinking about all this when she noticed a commotion some blocks ahead. Frowning she kept walking until a police barricade stopped her. Taking advantage of the tall form she was wearing she could see above most of the crowd; there were several police officers and military men running to and fro. With her keen eyes she could see sharpshooters posted above the buildings nearby, pointing at a big department store. Making her way through the people she got as close as she could to one of the police cars. A cop was talking through her radio; she could make the words “terrorist attack” and “hostages” and she frowned. That sounded so much like what Dray’chen had been doing…
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Oct 19, 2006 - around 9:30pm - The Hyperion Hotel
Nicholas watched Ellie beat the crap out of his minion in the training room. She had beaten him and was now just playing with him. *She is so effortless, she doesn't grunt or blow becasue she doesn't need to breathe. She doesn't waste a motion or a blow. She's magnificent.*
Secretly, Nicholas wanted to properly thank her Watcher for making Ellie an awesome combatant. Nothing they had taught her about fighting as a vampire would have been useful had she not already had an innate sense of stance, combat rhythm or focus.
"Enough!" he called as Ellie was reaching for the steel spike they used as a practice stake. The minion breathed a sigh of relief. *Stupid,* Nicholas broadcast into his mind, *You don't need to breathe.*
Ellie stepped back and watched Nicholas like a tiger waiting to eat her trainer on stage. She was looking for any sign of weakness or opening that she could exploit. The purple bruises on her back and legs - stark against her pale vampire skin - were a testament to the times she had tested her masters' leashes.
Nicolas turned to her and cupped her face affectionately. Of all of these monsters she both trusted and hated Nicholas the most. He would toady up to that freak Dathan like he was willing to suck his dick for a favor, but at the same time he was more straight forward than the others.
Ellie snapped at Nicholas' hand. Her sharp 'baby-fangs' as Nicholas called them clamped down on empty air. Nicholas had told her that if she could mark him he'd take her for "walkies". *Like some damn dog,* she thought, *I'll piss on his leg if he tries to put me on a lead.*
Nicholas looked at his hand and a deep crimson drop of blood drooled languidly down the edge of his finger. "You clipped me. Bad doggie," he grinned. *Your thoughts are transparent, pooch, watch your wagging mind as well as your tongue,* he broadcast to her.
No telepathy was needed to read the surprise on her face. "I am a being of my word; tonight we go on a field trip. Be a good doggy and run down and tell the brood we go out tonight."
Oct 21, 2006 10pm - The Beverly Center Mall
[img]http://www.seeing-stars.com/Images/slides/BeverlyCenter2001(small).JPG[/img]
Ellie was riding the board she had taken from the Tony Hawk outlet in the shopping mall. She weaved in and out of bodies, kiosks, and vampires who were busy raiding the shops and eating customers. She shoved a vamp who was blocking the stairs and shouted back at him, "Keep it in the food court, dickwad!" as she did a reverse grind down the rail.
Nicholas surveyed the damage. This had been Ellie's idea to come here. He generally eschewed such pupblic places. Too many places to hide. But what need had he for hiding now?
He saw her on that contraption she was so enamored with. She was smiling, her pigtails flapping behind her. Nicholas beckoned for her to attend his side. She skipped of the board and kicked it up to her hand in front of him. "Yeah, what now? Time to go?"
She sounded so disappointed he felt it tugging at his heart-strings - if had any it would, anyways. "No, my little puppy, I feel like letting you have a pet of your own. That one over there, she looks like a celebrity. I am giving her to you."
Ellie turned to look where he had pointed and saw a small throng of the undead hoard clustered around a young woman who was shakily signing autographs for them to avoid being 'sampled' by the adoring mob. "Oh. My. God. You mean Britney is mine?" Ellie shreiked, "Oh please, can I turn her?"
"Of course childe, she is yours to do as you like."
Nicholas felt like her proud Papa as he showed her how to force the celebrity singer to drink from an opened vein and then beamed at Ellie as she drained the pop star until her life fluttered and blinked out.
Oct 21, 2006 11:55pm - The Beverly Center Mall
"Fun's over children! Time to leave!" Nicholas called. His voice carried supernaturally over the group of vampires who had been ravaging the police and S.W.A.T. teams that had assembled to stop the rioters.
Officers dropped weapons and walked away from the battle lines. Hours later they would be in their homes wondering what had happened. Vampires laughed and dragged the rapidly animating corpses thay had turned, back with them.
Observers witnessed a macabre parade of vampires walking through Hollywood led by Britney Spears, her throat bleeding down her scantily clad chest followed by her new best friend, Ellie on her skateboard. Flying above them in a stately glide a Condor soared; overseeing all.
Guest Starring Britney Spears as herself
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
October 17th
11:45 pm
The night was very dark and Morris relished the hunt. The new strength running through his limbs made him laugh in exhilaration. Along with the Elders he had felt the surges every time a new Slayer died. He was very thankful to his Master to have favored him. Dathan was not his Sire, but Morris regarded him as such, for it had been Dathan's minions who had turned him that night in Paraguay. Although he was very young in vampire terms, the dark ritual performed by his Master had given him the power of a vampire many years older. Morris chuckled as he ran - not that he had been defenseless before; his Watcher training in fighting and magic had made him not the average newly risen, and he had been able to face the challenges of his new situation better equipped than usual.
That same training had made him wary of so many Slayers dying in such quick succession. He had gone to his Master, the Ancient Dathan, to voice his worries. But of course they had been well aware of the situation. Not that anyone was complaining, the power surges that run through their bodies at each Slayer's death were invigorating and worthwhile. Morris knew that the Masters had planned on accelerating the Slayer's renovation themselves, but...
Shaking his head, he continued his hunt. He could have already ended it, but he enjoyed his prey's terror; the smell of fear and adrenaline tingled his nostrils. However, when the terrified couple where about to reach an illuminated street he stopped and spoke, "Deténte!" while extending his hand towards them. Blackness expanded in front of the couple and they hit against a shimmering dark magic wall. Morris laughed as the couple tried, uselessly, to continue their run. Not only his physical strength had gained by the Masters' ritual but also his magical skills. Morris strode calmly towards them, with a smile in his face.
"So pretty," he whispered, caressing the crying girl's face. Her companion tried to attack the vampire but with only a gesture Morris sent him flying against a wall. The youth lay there, unconscious.
"Shh... Don't cry," he continued soothing the girl, "This will end soon," he said as he sank his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck. As always he relished on the coppery taste of the blood, drinking the life force from her.
Magical Mishaps
***Friday, October 20th 2006 – 7:30pm***
Kate’s Kitchen
Kate hummed quietly to herself as she ground a collection of herbs, spices and various other ingredients together in a pestle and mortar. The kitchen was crowded with piles of books, papers, bottles and glass jars containing many different spell components – all of which covered almost every available surface. Emma was already asleep upstairs and Galen had yet to return home from work, so Kate was taking this rare quiet moment to place the finishing touches to the binding spell. She had spent the past week since Alessa’s late night visit preparing and collecting the necessary items needed for a spell of this magnitude. Kate wasn’t exactly sure just how powerful this demon Dray’chen was but she wasn’t about to take any chances, not if the events at Alessa’s school had been anything to go by. She’d make the potion ten times more powerful than needed rather than risk failure.
Kate sighed slightly; she knew that she should really be preparing a contingency against the Brotherhood, and she had been for countless weeks since she learned of their presence in Los Angeles. Constructing protection amulets and charms, as well as more ‘offensive’ spells to use as part of her own magical ‘arsenal’. But this was important too; she had seen a scattering of violent crimes in the news lately and feared that they too might be the handiwork of Dray’chen.
Placing the ground herbs to one side Kate returned her attention to the ancient pages of her family Book of Shadows, which lay open on the table. The yellowed pages were covered in row upon row of tiny inked characters, some the most important in a variation of Theban script, and every so often a small, detailed illustration of a herb or flower appeared, breaking up the dense text.
Setting the book aside Kate looked at the wax figure that lay at the centre of the table, protected by a large glass cloche that she had placed purposefully over it. She removed the cloche and picked up the figure carefully; she’d spent many days moulding the pliable substance into a perfect replica of a man. It was imperative that it was as lifelike as possible if the spell was going to be successful.
Kate poured the finely ground herbs and spices onto a small block of charcoal and lit it. The dark smoke slowly rose in a long black curl and Kate held the wax figure in the middle of the smoke whilst speaking aloud.
“Hecate, great goddess of life and death, I ask you to acknowledge that this creation of wax be known as the flesh and blood of Dray’chen.”
Suddenly Kate looked up, seeing Galen standing in the doorway, his jacket slung over one shoulder and watching her in silence. He smiled half-heartedly. “I didn’t mean to disturb you - I just got in. I’m not interrupting am I?”
Kate tossed a few more ingredients into the bubbling cauldron, Hemlock and Morning Glory, causing the potion to hiss and emit a small bang. “Nope, come on in,” she smiled.
Galen cautiously entered the kitchen; it always amazed him that Kate could be such an expert at making potions for spells when she could barely heat soup without it boiling over. He cast an uncertain glance around the room; there was no way he would get dinner cooked tonight. Still, he found her ‘craft’ fascinating and he loved to watch her working.
“Emma’s already in bed,” Kate informed him, adding yet another ingredient to the mix. “I thought we could order take out. That Thai restaurant on Beverly delivers.”
“That’s not an ancient incantation to the Dark Ones is it?” grinned Galen as he leaned into the refrigerator to remove a bottle of beer. He twisted off the cap and took a long drink.
Kate smiled, “No, though the Dark Ones do usually deliver in less than thirty minutes.” Kate turned back to her potion, giving it a good stir. “I just have a few things to finish before I’m done; you could start putting a few of these bits and pieces away if you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” Galen said setting down his beer and loading his arms with several jars and taking them to the pantry that housed all of Kate’s most powerful spell components. There were drawers, shelves and cupboards containing almost every kind of herb, resin, plant, root, animal, vegetable and mineral Galen had ever heard of and many more besides. He still marvelled at this small room, an Aladdin’s cave of Wiccan paraphernalia.
As he stacked the jars back on the shelves he picked up one holding a curious collection of what looked like red and orange roots, and removed the lid, sticking his nose inside and inhaling. He coughed as the dusty contents irritated his nostrils and hastily replaced the lid, setting the jar down. He shook his head, sniffing slightly as he re-entered the kitchen and sneaked up behind Kate, wrapping his arms around her waist and looking over her shoulder at what she was doing.
Kate smiled and turned to give him a light kiss before returning to her work. Galen’s nose still twitched and he rubbed it furiously while staring intently at the open book. He picked it up and flicked through the pages.
“This is amazing, really amazing,” he said looking at the engravings rather than attempting to read the tiny script. He turned over a few pages and frowned, “Who’s this guy ‘Ludlow’?”
Kate looked up, and Galen held the book out for her to see. “He sounds familiar…” She squinted at the ancient Theban text, “Now I remember, he was some magician something-or-other, a demon I think; he worked with the Coven a few times.” Kate took the book in her arms, she had spent a lot of time when she had first returned to Los Angeles studying the book but there were still things she had missed. “This looks like a summoning spell, or…”
Suddenly Galen pointed at the cauldron, which had begun to bubble furiously. Kate dropped the book on the table and returned to the potion, reducing the heat and stirring the contents. She smiled at Galen sarcastically, “Soup huh?”
Galen chuckled as he collected more of the jars and bottles and continued to put them away.
Kate watched him leave the kitchen before picking up the wax poppet again. She held it carefully in her hands as she began to wrap it from head to toe with a length of red ribbon. She bound the figure completely, covering the head and arms, torso and legs with the blood-red coloured ribbon until it took the appearance of a sort of mummy. Kate then dipped a long handled spoon into the cauldron and poured the dark liquid over the poppet, reciting another incantation.
“Between the worlds in Hecate’s eyes, you, Dray’chen, are bound powerless. In the eyes of the world, you are harmless.”
A slight bluish glow ran the length of the mummified figure and Kate lay it down on top of a large, flat iron pentacle before sprinkling a little crushed sea salt over the top.
”Ligo Dray’chen, ligo. Pareo mei impero. Ligo Dray’chen, ligo. Pareo mei impero.”
When Galen returned from the pantry he was holding his head, shaking it slightly in an attempt to clear the foggy feeling that had suddenly come over him. For some reason he felt strangely hot inside, almost like he were burning up. He picked up the beer he had left on the side and took another long drink in an effort to quell the fire inside of him. He caught himself looking at Kate, not so much looking as staring. He wet his lips uncomfortably as his eyes lingered on the gentle curve of her breast beneath the thin material of her shirt. Galen shook his head again, causing the room to spin momentarily. He stumbled slightly and sat down.
He took another gulp of his beer, lubricating his suddenly parched throat. Galen tried to think of something else but his mind kept on returning to Kate. He watched her full lips as they recited the incantation but he didn’t hear the words, couldn’t hear the words above the loud pounding of his heart going into overdrive. Suddenly the only thing he could think about was the ache in his loins and how he was going to satisfy it.
Kate was so completely engrossed in completing her spell that she didn’t even notice Galen as he crept up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist again. She smiled momentarily before returning to her spell.
Galen wasn’t about ready to give up so easily; his head was reeling he felt so hot inside, but not only that he felt… ravenous, like he could barely control himself. Insistently, his hand moved up Kate’s waist and softly stroked the side of her breast.
Kate was so caught off guard that she dropped the smudge stick in surprise. “Galen,” she urged impatiently, “I have to finish this…”
“That can wait,” Galen growled, “I can’t.” He proceeded to lay a trail of warm kisses across her shoulders and pushed back her hair to kiss her throat and neck. “Why don’t you leave this for now? Emma’s asleep, we could have an early night and…” he pressed his mouth against her ear and whispered quietly.
Kate’s eyes widened in shock at his words and she turned on her chair to look at him. His pupils looked heavily dilated and he was perspiring slightly. Kate ran her hand against his forehead; his flesh was hot to the touch, almost feverish and his breathing was heavy and drawn. “Galen? Are you feeling okay?” she asked warily.
Galen dropped to his knees and ran his hand up her thigh, pushing the flimsy fabric of her skirt further up her legs. “No… God, I’m so damn horny right now, I just want to take you and-“
“Okay!” Kate climbed out of the chair, almost knocking it over in her attempt to manoeuvre out of Galen’s reach. She stood at the opposite end of the table and observed him closely, he looked almost feral and animal-like. “Galen I don’t know what happened to you but this, this isn’t you. I think you need to calm down and just… relax.”
“I’ll relax once I’ve screwed your brains out,” Galen practically panted, his darkened eyes raking in every inch of her body.
“Galen if this is a joke it isn’t funny!” Kate felt almost scared; this just wasn’t like Galen to act like this and his behaviour was so barbarous and wild he seemed almost out of control. Suddenly her mind thought back to the array of jars Galen had taken into the pantry. She darted into the small room before returning, holding a jar containing red and orange twisted roots. The label read Damiana & Galangal Root.
“Galen, you didn’t?” Kate cast a curious glance at her husband as he slowly circled the table and walked towards her, his lustful intent clear in his eyes.
“Oh my, you did…” Kate laughed to herself nervously as she backed away, suddenly hitting the edge of the table. “Galen? Galen honey?” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and composed. “This is Damiana and Galangal Root. It’s an aphrodisiac, an extremely potent aphrodisiac…”
Galen ignored her protests and instead pressed Kate hard against the edge of the table and began to run his hands across her hips, gathering up the thin fabric of her skirt in his hands. He suddenly leaned in and nuzzled the crook of her neck, kissing and nibbling at the delicate area of flesh.
Kate gently pushed him back, trying to gain control of the situation before it escalated. She didn’t know how much of the powder Galen had managed to ingest but even a little would mean he’d have little control over his raging hormones. As his hands roamed again, slightly more insistent now, Kate pushed him back more firmly.
“Look Galen, I think, I think maybe you should just get yourself a glass of water or something…”
“I don’t need some water, I need some Kate…” Galen suddenly grabbed her amorously, pushing her back on the table. Kate cried out in shock, her hands scrambling on the table’s surface for something to help her fend off Galen’s advances.
In her haste, her hands hit the wax figure, knocking it across the smooth surface. The poppet sailed across the table and hit the floor hard, breaking into several pieces, the red ribbon unwinding from the sorry heap. Kate looked at it in despair while Galen continued to tear at her clothes.
“Okay, that’s it,” she muttered to herself in annoyance, perhaps more angry at the thought of four days' work being ruined in one instant than the notion that her husband was forcing her to have sex against her will. Kate saw a jar at the other end of the table and reached out for it but it was slightly out of her grasp. She focused intently on the jar marked Hemlock, her fingers extending out towards it. The jar twitched several times before inching across the table’s surface towards her out-stretched hand.
Galen was too busy kissing her neck to notice what was happening, his breathing was growing heavier as he roughly pawed his wife’s body. “Oh baby! You got me so hot right now I-”
“-Sorry, honey,” said Kate, cutting Galen’s sentence short as she hit him over the head with the jar. It shattered into several pieces, the contents covering him like flour. Kate turned her head so as not to inhale any of the powerful sedative herbs. Suddenly she heard Galen groan loudly followed by a thud as he fell on the floor unconscious.
Kate sat up on the table and, clutching her tangle of half removed clothes to her body, surveyed the destruction of all her hard work. She sighed, disheartened, and climbed down from the tabletop and attended to her unconscious husband.
***Some Time Later***
Galen lay on the living room couch moaning slightly. Kate returned from the kitchen with an ice pack and placed it gently against his head.
“There, that should feel better,” she said softly, kneeling on the floor by his side.
Galen moaned again, clutching the ice pack against the slight bump on his head. “Oh god, how can it be possible to have a headache this bad!?”
“I said I’m sorry,” said Kate, her face genuinely etched into an expression of worry.
“I know, I know, damn!” Galen cursed, holding his head in pain. “I don’t know why you had to hit me though, I mean, I might not have been in my right mind but it’s not like I was going to do something we hadn’t done a hundred times before.”
“Against my will, Galen,” Kate added with a frown.
“Was I really that bad?” Galen sighed, closing his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again he looked troubled. “You know I would never hurt you, right? I mean, I wouldn’t do anything intentionally…”
“I know, Galen,” said Kate, maybe for the first time realising just how dangerous the situation could have become. She stroked his forehead again. “You should know you can’t just mess around with things that you don’t know anything about, I mean it might look like an ordinary herb or crystal or whatever but lots of these things have great powers just waiting for-"
“For some idiot to unleash them?” Galen interrupted with a sigh.
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“But it was what you meant.”
“Thankfully nothing bad happened,” Kate ran her fingers through Galen’s hair soothingly. He’d have a headache for some time she guessed, considering how hard she’d hit him over the head with that jar. “It’s my fault too, I shouldn’t leave things unguarded. Gaia! It could be Emma who gets hurt next time.”
“No, you’re careful,” interjected Galen firmly, “I’m the one who goes inhaling magical Viagra dust!” Galen’s jovial expression suddenly faded, “How’s your spell? I didn’t ruin it did I?”
Kate sighed; the poppet would need to be remade again which would take time, but at least she had the binding potion, that would keep for as long as she needed. She’d already distilled it while Galen was unconscious, now it waited on an uppermost shelf out of harm's way until it was needed again.
She looked at Galen and smiled weakly, stroking his hair again. *I just hope Alessa can wait.*
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Sunday, 22nd October 2006 – 9:12pm
“23’s run!”
Angry flames blazed and flared wildly above the stove with the three chefs of the Marie Callender's restaurant in Pasadena sweating away, pouring their hearts out into their love and livelihood. Runners strode briskly through the kitchen, back and forth, loading themselves with upwards of four plates ready to serve and returning from the outer restaurant’s dining guests, dropping cleared dishes off to the kitchen hands. One of the managers and the night’s head runner on duty, Cassy, glared impatiently across the steam trays, aggravated by the head chef and his intolerable arrogance towards anyone and everyone in ‘his‘ kitchen.
“Is anyone listening? They’re waiting on their desserts, already!”
“We heard you for the fiftieth time!” he shouted back over his shoulder, irritably, “And tell that ignorant whelp to stop getting in my way! I don’t care how new she is, I don‘t accept excuses, and they‘re weak. She should be shot for having plaited pig tails, too.” There was a pause as stir fried vegetables were tossed in a mastered art, sizzling over the steaming wok, “Fire her. She’s crap.”
“Table 34.” Cassy loaded up one of the freshly arrived runners, hurrying them off without as much as a glance while she continued to pressure the egotistical man, “Just get the bloody dessert, already, or you won’t have any friggen customers, let alone good staff!”
“Get out of my kitchen wench, and don’t tell me what to do! Without me you wouldn’t even have a business.” Neil grumbled, equally as frustrated as the manager, then turned to the apprentice chef and pointed to the bin of scraps in the corner, “Take it out would’ya, Jimmy? We get scum at the rear entrance. Give it to ‘em and tell ‘em to rack off! They‘re bad for business.”
Without question, Jimmy hauled the large full black bag out of its containment, mechanically slinging it onto his back.
The rear entrance to the Marie Callender's swung open. Eyes of beggars suddenly lit up at the sight, waiting expectantly and eyeing their competitors warily with shifty eyes, not daring to move an inch and let one of them pass through to get their food.
The man in the door scrunched up his nose in disgust then hurled the bag, eager to be rid of it and the sight of the sad souls, “You’ve got your food, now P.O!” Without a second glance or breath, he slammed the door shut behind him as the bag hit the ground, bursting open at the sudden impact.
Rats scurried frantically about the desperate hands, trying to get their fair share of the complementary meal as well while minor brawls started to break out between some of the dispossessed, snatching as much as they could in direct competition with their rivals. This made the rats’ grabs all that much simpler with the welcomed distraction.
Skittering off about the corner with their fresh haul, the rats swerved and weaved about through the labyrinth of back alleys, followed by a desperate, ragged old man with a scruffed up grey beard and dirty white tufts puffing insanely up behind his ears. He was wearing fingerless woollen gloves and a long since expired, moth eaten coat and cord draw trousers as he chased the rats voraciously through the concrete maze after having spotted their recent raid on the scraps.
A slight girl sat on her own in a nearby windswept lane, her arms clutching about her stomach in painstaking hunger, shivering against the cold in what little warmth her clothing managed to provide.
When the rats suddenly spilled into the lane around the rear corner, her head lifted slightly and watched as they scurried past, dropping a hefty portion of their recent scavenge at her feet. She barely nodded her thanks before lunging straight into the desperate meal. Driven by her rabid starvation, she hadn’t hesitated a moment in ripping large chunks out of a discarded chicken drumstick with her teeth. If she had any thoughts of the possible diseases carried by the rats, she showed no sign of it as juices slopped carelessly onto her face and dribbled down her chin as she continued to maw ravenously at the scrap food.
“Hey!” The girl jumped at the sudden interruption, suddenly poked harshly in the shoulder by a old gnarled, bony finger, tipped with half a splitting nail, yellow from rot like it was decomposing right there in front of her.
The girl stared wide-eyed at the menacing old man, grasping her drumstick protectively and nervously licking her lips. The two stood there for a moment just staring at one another before the girl’s glance darted fretfully at the remainder of her food and back again. Without further warning, she abruptly dived for the scraps, feverishly collecting them into her skirt, ready to dart off when the man’s withered hand suddenly flung out, grabbing her harshly by the wrist.
“That’s my food ya got there gurly.” His one good yellow brimmed eye stared threateningly into her pale and youthful features.
A small, soft whimper escaped her lips as she winced at the intensifying pain that continued to pressure her delicate wrist, causing her to instinctively call out in a silent, yet anxious plea.
Nothing was going through Tash's mind as she placed one foot mechanically in front of the other. Last night had been the final piece that had just switched everything off for her. It had truly become too much now that she’d had to kill Patrick. But tonight she had still strapped on her hunting gear and gone out, determined not to sit at home and do nothing. She knew if she let herself stop she would just sink into that bottomless pit of despair that yawned beneath her and then she'd be useless to everyone. So instead she turned off the parts of her brain that hurt too much, which made her somewhat zombie-like but at least she functioned. Sort of.
Then the pain came at her - from outside. It was close, very close. She followed it to the corner and peered around, wondering if she'd see this phantom demon that had been terrorising LA recently, or whether she'd encounter one of the Brotherhood's kin who seemed to be ranging farther from home each night. But there was no vampire or demon - just a bedraggled old man harassing an equally bedraggled young girl.
Tash leaned against the wall and cleared her throat loudly. When the two looked towards her, startled, she made eye contact with the girl and asked, "Need any help here?"
The girl only stared at Tash for a moment with pain-filled eyes, brimmed with tears, before she ducked her head away in shame, struggling to pull herself free of the man again. “This ain’t none of yer business, lady. Rack off!” The craggy man glared at her as he continued to struggle with girl, slapping her face hard as she suddenly bit down on his unrelenting hand.
"Oh, I think it is," Tash replied, advancing into the laneway. She hitched her shoulder to make the bulge of her H&K obvious to the man, and smiled when his eyes widened. "I think you can get better food elsewhere," she said. "In fact," she rummaged in her pocket and brought out a five dollar note, "There, go buy some McDonalds." She held the note before her, far enough away that the man would have to let go of the girl to reach it.
Eyeing Tash suspiciously, his gaze fell eagerly to the note in her hand, then darted to the whimpering girl in his hand with a snarl twisting his features. The girl peered up at him patiently, pleading, and occasionally eyeing the money in turn. Smacking his lips nervously, the old man turned his fevered gaze back to the note in Tash’s hand. Slowly he reached out with his free hand to retrieve it, but was hindered by the girl who’d started to pull back, trying to use him as leverage to free herself. However, it didn’t take much beyond a firm tug to bring her stumbling forward as he greedily attempted to snatch the note from Tash’s grasp.
Tash danced backwards, shaking her head. "Oh, no. Let go of the girl, then you can have it."
Muttering something under his breath, the man relented; dropping the girl harshly to the ground he smiled a one-toothed grin, “Would not be wantin’ a lowly wench dirtying my fine reputation, now, would I?” He reached out again for the five dollar note while the girl sat with her legs sprawled on the ground, tenderly rubbing her severely bruised wrist that reflected nicely off the purples and browns that developed on her left cheek.
As the man grasped the edge of the note, Tash grabbed his spindly, filthy wrist and locked on tight, using her training and strength to keep him from pulling free.
"Now piss off," she hissed, "And remember that being down and out is no excuse for shitty behaviour. I never forget a face, and if I see you harassing anyone again I will make you wish you'd never been born."
She thrust the man away from her, towards the main street. "Now go and get something halfway decent to eat and think about seeing the Salvation Army for help."
The girl watched through downcast eyes from her position on the ground as the old man hobbled off around the corner, grumbling and muttering to himself. Meekly she started to get up, uttering a quiet thanks to the woman who’d helped her. She felt unable to make herself actually look at her saviour in the face, too ashamed to let someone see her in the desperate state she was.
"Forget him," Tash soothed, "He's an asshole." She appraised the young woman before her, noting that despite her dishevelment, the girl didn't look like she'd been on the streets for long. Those who lived on the streets had a certain air about them; a hardness that showed in their bearing - and their aura - and with this one the soft edges hadn't been worn off yet.
She held out a hand to the girl, silently offering to help her to her feet. “My name’s Tash, by the way. But why are you here? You don't look like the regular street urchin to me."
The girl shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably in reply, eyeing Tash’s hand sceptically, then kept her own tucked closer to herself, ducking her head lower. After a moment’s hesitation when she started to continue pulling herself up, she started to reach with a tentative hand wavering out carefully. She didn’t want to appear rude, and the woman had helped her.
“I’ve…” She swallowed, still ashamed of her appearance in front of the woman. “There’s no place for me. I don’t belong.” The girl tried to get a peek of Tash’s reaction, then quickly hid her eyes again when she made contact, “Only among….” she started, but faded off into a low mumble Tash couldn’t understand.
Tash gently grasped the fingertips that the girl presented so gingerly, and pulled her to her feet. As the girl rose, half-eaten scraps of food fell from her skirt and the girl cringed even further into herself, obviously deeply ashamed. "It's ok," Tash said. "Sometimes things happen that we have no control over, and sometimes it feels like we don't belong anywhere." Tash herself was no stranger to that feeling - she'd spent most of her life afraid to get close to other people. And now that she had... She stopped her train of thought, not wanting to think down those lines.
"But," she continued doggedly, "it looks like you've not been here long. Now I don't need to know what happened, if you don't want to say, but I'd rather not see you stay out here. It's not a healthy place for a young woman." Well, not unless she'd been training since fourteen to be a vampire hunter, anyway, Tash thought to herself.
The girl’s head snapped up attentively, eyes wide with shock and confusion, “What? No! I… I couldn’t,” she stammered, “I’d just be a burden for you!”
Tash blinked. She hadn't exactly meant that the girl should go home with her - rather that Tash should help her find a place with some organisation. But she also knew how many lived on the streets, and that the few places that offered support were strained to the max already. So she sighed. "Look, let's start with your name, and then we'll see what we can do. I'm Tash, as I said. And you're..?"
The girl shifted her feet uneasily again, she felt so out of place where ever she went, and accepting someone else’s help just made her feel guilty. Awkwardly, she lowered her eyes again before giving a soft, weak answer, “Quin.”
"Pleased to meet you, Quin," Tash smiled, "Though rescuing damsels in distress from street bums isn't my usual mode."
She gently propelled Quin towards the street. "Now, how about we start with a decent meal, eh? What do you fancy? Chinese? Italian?" Tash gestured at the street, which was peppered with restaurants. At Quin's scared-rabbit look Tash smiled again. "Don't worry, I won't make you go inside. I'm thinking take-out."
The corners of Quin’s mouth twitched in a slight smile that accompanied her sad eyes, “Thank you.” Tash obviously seemed nice enough, and she had nothing left to lose.
The first place they reached was an Italian café, so Tash took Quin inside. The young woman's nose wrinkled at the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen, and Tash showed her the menu. "Pizza? Anything you don't like on it?" she asked.
“Um…” Quin started, abashed, “Just the mushies. Er… mushrooms.”
Tash shrugged. She loved mushrooms on her pizza, but figured one without them wouldn't kill her. And Quin's accent finally clicked into place. She ordered a pizza - sans mushrooms - and turned to the girl as they waited for it. "Quin, are you from Australia?"
Sighing, Quin nodded sorrowfully in reply.
"I thought I recognised the accent. I have a friend from Australia, and another from New Zealand." She kept her tone conversational. Quin was so meek that she didn't want to scare the girl, but she didn't want to seem patronising either. "So, how long have you been in the States?"
"Few months," she answered simply. Her stomach grumbled loudly as the scent of the food wafted into her nostrils. Quin blushed in embarrassment.
Tash leaned back for a moment, contemplating the situation. She really wasn't in the mood for taking on another stray right now. But thinking selfishly, if she did take Quin under her wing it would give her something to occupy her mind. One more reason not to sink into a morass of depression. Though to be fair to Quin, Tash had to admit to herself that she wasn't exactly the best company at the moment, and Quin herself seemed pretty far down. Maybe she needed someone brighter and bubblier. Someone like... Reah. *Hmm, dunno how Reah would go for that, though. And I've not really seen her for days anyway.*
Still, she couldn't turf the girl back out onto the streets. So she leaned forward again and faced the shy girl. "Quin," she said softly, "What do you want to do? I can't send you back out there, and really I think you'd be better off if I took you in, at least for a little while until you found your feet. But I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
Quin blinked. She really didn’t know what to answer, how to answer! Nervously, she started fidgeting with her ruined skirt, straightening and smoothing it out, picking off pieces of hair and what not, trying to figure out what to do. The man behind the counter slid the readied pizza across to Tash who then exchanged her payment and lifted it off the bench with thanks.
“Um…” Quin started. She’d started wringing her skirt now, it was all she could do not to snatch the pizza right out of Tash’s hands nervously. “I… er. If…. Only for a lit… are you sure?” she queried apprehensively, “To be honest… I…. I don’t want to be a burden or anything, but… if… I’d be forever in your debt. Would you mind?”
Quin looked abashed and shuffled her feet again on the tiled floor of the pizza shop, *I don’t think I could stand going another day living like this. OK Quin, time to stop being worthless! I’ll get a job and be out of her way as soon as I can!* She groaned mentally, *She’s going to think I’m some desperate street urchin, trying to suck her dry of everything she has.*
It didn’t take long for her to remember to take a look at herself of late, *I am a street urchin,* she thought morosely, once again ashamed of herself.
"Yes, I'm sure," Tash said firmly as they left the shop for the street. "I think once we get you fed and cleaned up a bit you'll feel much better. Here," she handed the box to Quin, "get started on that. My bike's not far."
Quin gratefully accepted the box, and with one final glance up at Tash, she didn’t hesitate a moment longer before flipping back the lid and devouring one of the slices she pulled away hungrily. “Phank… you,” she finally managed to mumble around the slice as politely as she could. Quin felt like an absolute pig, but currently she couldn’t care less.
"Don't mention it," Tash said. With Quin's mouth full of pizza there was little point in any more conversation for now, so Tash simply led the way to her bike, handed the spare helmet to Quin and made sure the woman was securely seated before riding home.
More than once on the trip to Poplar Avenue Tash berated herself silently for being a fool, embroiling this girl in her life right now. Now, when she was reeling from multiple tragedies, and was a mere few days away from one of the more cataclysmic encounters she'd had to deal with to date. It made no sense. But she just couldn't leave Quin on the streets. Something about the girl spoke to her of frailty and vulnerability, and of an abiding sadness, and Tash thought she finally had an inkling what it was that had prompted Matthias to intervene on her behalf all those years ago.
The brownstone sat, quiet and unassuming as always, and Tash pulled to a stop at the steps. She punched in the code for the front door then led the way up to the third floor, to apartment 301 - the penthouse. At least with the larger apartment, she actually had a spare room with an actual bed in it these days, rather than having the couch as the only sleeping alternative. She opened her door and gestured for Quin to enter, rescuing the nearly-empty pizza box from the girl's hands as she walked through the doorway.
“Make yourself at home,” she said to the awestruck girl, “I’m just going to put the bike away. I’ll be back in a minute.” She didn’t worry about leaving Quin alone with her things. She knew from her aura that the girl wasn’t a thief. Wheeling the bike to the training room, Tash munched on the single slice of pizza Quin had left in the box.
*Yuck, no mushrooms.*
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Monday, 23rd October 2006 - 8:30am
Tash watched the coffee percolate and listened to the shower running. Last night she'd simply helped Quin pick out some clothes that might fit her for the interim - luckily they were the same height - and allowed the girl to clean off the accumulated grime of living on the street. Now as Quin showered yet again, the apartment was filled with the mixed feelings of skittishness and relief and Tash had to smile. She guessed she'd shower non-stop too if she'd had to sleep in an alleyway.
The pan on the stove began to sizzle and Tash quickly grabbed a spatula, flipping the pancake she had cooking in there. She wished she had Jade's cooking skills, but... *Gods, Jade... What a mess.* Thinking of Jade led her to thinking of how bad Sorrow was feeling, and that led her to how awful her own situation was, so by the time Quin emerged dressed in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt Tash was simply staring at her burning pancakes, not really seeing them.
Padding quietly bare-footed across the plush carpet floor Quin fidgeted with her nails, picking at the last morsels of dirt caught beneath them as she sighed a fresh breath of relief. Her muscles were still tight and anxious, what with unexpectedly getting picked up off the streets and taken to some kind, charitable stranger's home. The fact that the woman had been walking the streets freely with a gun had also unnerved her a bit, too. She wasn't sure if she was ever going to get used to the gun laws of this country (or their seemingly lack of).
It had been awkward when she'd first entered, and it'd taken a while before she managed to get some sleep. After a final good night's sleep and warm showers, however, she was starting to feel remotely human again. Unsure of how to thank Tash, Quin tried her best to make an acceptable attempt which started with her stepping timidly down the hall and into the open living area towards the kitchen where she could hear, and smell, food sizzling away. She wasn't even halfway, however, when a strange tang piqued the senses in her nostrils, immediately alarming her instincts to linking it with the food, causing her to warily jog the rest of the way.
“Um… Tash?”
Startled from her fugue-like state, Tash noticed the smoke curling up from the pan. "Shit!" she swore, and lifted the pan from the stove. She turned off the gas burner and gingerly lifted the corner of the pancake with a spatula. "Damn. Ruined. Sorry, Quin, I was making pancakes for breakfast but I was... daydreaming." Tash tried to put on a bright smile to cover the sadness that had suffused her features just moments before.
Quin shrugged, smiling wanly in understanding and forgiveness, "It's ok. You've done heaps for me already, as it stands." She glanced subconsciously at the burnt pancake. "I think we all get that way at times. Happens to even the best of us."
Her gaze returned back to Tash, supportively. "I could have a go if you'd like?" Quin offered, delicately, "It's the least I can do at the moment: I can't thank you enough."
Tash scraped the charcoaled pancake into the bin and set it back on the stove. "Please, be my guest," Tash replied. "I've got the pancake mix right here in the bowl..."
She fetched sugar, lemon and bananas as toppings while Quin deftly produced an array of perfect pancakes. Once they were stacked on a plate and the pair were seated at the table with freshly poured coffee, Tash decided it was time to learn a little about her guest. She appraised the girl sitting opposite her, noting her flawless complexion. There was not a single hint of the bruising Quin had received last night and Tash burned to ask her about that. Given the girl’s nervous disposition, though, she figured it would be best to start with something more mundane.
Still, even for the mundane the direct approach seemed best, so Tash leaned back with her coffee mug cradled in her hands and began, "So, how did you get from Australia to here, and wind up on the street?"
Quin stared longingly into her coffee she cupped tenderly in her hands, soaking up the warmth that seeped into the ceramic, reflecting for a moment's pause before remembering that Tash was still waiting patiently for a reply to the question.
"Plane," she answered simply at first. "I'd come over... A friend I had, through the internet," Quin explained, "had offered their place for me to hole up at. I didn't know her parents were on holidays," she sighed, taking another moment to think. Tash deserved as much as the truth, and she didn't feel like hiding or lying, "They came back after a month, or so. They weren't happy."
"And what? They just kicked you out on the street? And you didn't have money for a ticket home..." Quin’s intense feeling of panic hit Tash like a hammer blow. *Right, no going home, then.*
She continued, with barely a hitch, "So, you were planning on staying here? What did you intend to do?"
Quin shrunk visibly in her seat, now using her coffee as a barrier between herself and the questions. Shame washed over her like a sudden flood from a burst dam and she turned her head away, frowning at the floor. She couldn't go back. She couldn't have stayed. No matter what happened to her, she couldn't go on living how she was. The streets were a better option! At least there, she owned herself.
"Hey, hey, it's ok," Tash soothed. "I'm not going to send you packing, or report you to Immigration. I'm just worried. You're awfully young to be stuck in LA with no one to turn to."
"I..." Quin reddened, "I know... It's not that. I just..." she dwindled off, hesitating before continuing in a low mumble, "I couldn't stay." Quin closed her eyes despairingly, her thick eyelashes slick and wetted with unshed tears.
Reaching across the table, Tash laid a gloved hand over Quin's own pale, trembling fingers. "It's ok," she said, "Whatever it is." Tash had no sense of anything particularly horrible - no mass murders or anything like that - but there was a lingering sense of not belonging, of some terrible thing that had happened to her. A faint tinge of darkness floated about Quin's aura, but it was gossamer-thin, and only now became apparent as Quin was obviously thinking about whatever dark secret she held.
"If you want to talk about it, it's ok. Sometimes it's good to get stuff off your chest. And if you're worried about shocking me, you'd be surprised how hard that is."
Quin's eyes blinked softly, her head rolling gently over to gaze out the window, still hidden from a direct line of sight, "I'm sorry... I'd rather not." She sighed regretfully, but she could barely admit her past life to herself without feeling sick. "No offence. It's just... too personal. I'm sorry."
Tash smiled, "Yeah, I think I know where you're coming from there. But honestly, some things don't seem so bad when they're out in the open. I won't push you, but I'll be here if ever you decide to unburden yourself."
Quin nodded distractedly, concentrating less on the world around her, and more on a painless void she could only hope to slip into one day.
Facing her own far from painless void, Tash sighed and picked up the empty plates and mugs, carrying them to the sink. "You know," she said, "Maybe you'd feel more settled if you had another Aussie to talk to. Remember I said I had a friend from Australia? She lives just downstairs. Would you like to meet her?" *If she's home...*
Quin nodded again, still barely even registering Tash's voice, let alone what she was asking. She watched as the beginnings of a light sun shower slowly fell, gradually filling up the windows with a soft haze of water droplets.
"Quin?" Tash asked softly, trying to get the girl to focus on her.
Quin blinked, her head lifting attentively to her name, and blushed, "Sorry, Tash." Nodding more responsively this time, Quin added with a slight shrug and awkward smile, "That'd be nice."
Tash nodded, "Ok, we can go see if she's home. I have to warn you, she can be a little... exuberant. Don't let her out-talk you into silence, ok?"
Quin sniffed, the slightest curve in her lips indicating an amused smile and rose gently from her seat after a moment's rest. Tash led the way down the stairs, Quin following behind apprehensively. She hadn't wanted to refuse the woman on that same account that she'd been treating her so generously, and she really was just trying to help. That, or Quin had already overstayed her welcome and she was politely moving her along; which she couldn't really blame her for either.
On occasion, Tash pointed out the odds and ends of the apartments. For instance, the training room that accompanied her apartment on the third level, or a couple of local sights that surrounded the block that they could see out the windows. Quin trailed her hand down the stair rail and continued to smile politely, though it didn't touch her eyes, but would occasionally add in her own comments when it seemed appropriate. After a short trip Tash came to a steady stop just in front of an apartment: 211.
She knocked lightly on the door. "Reah, you home?" she called.
Moaning, Reah rolled over on her bed after having just returned home and face planted herself into its warming embrace. "That'd be right." Yawning, Reah stretched out her arms and slipped back into her shirt as she tiredly made her way back to her front door to answer it.
"Hey, Tash," she yawned behind her hand again, eyes squinting shut, "What's up?"
"Oh, sorry Reah. You're so tired... we can come back another time if you like. But this is Quin. She's," Tash paused, searching for the right words, "a new friend of mine. I thought you two might like to chat for a bit sometime. Quin's from Australia - I'm sure she'd like to hear a familiar accent," she smiled.
Quin frowned from behind Tash at the mention of Reah's name, then peered tentatively around the edge of the door. Reah frowned mid-stretch in deeply set, concentrated thought, then burst out with a short, sudden cough of a laugh. "Hmm... that's funny," she mumbled, dropping her arms to her sides. *I have a cousin with the same name.*
"Reah?"
"Huh?" Blinking in confusion, Reah wiped some sleep from her eyes and focused on the sheepish girl hiding behind Tash, "Who...? Whoa!" *...Shit!*
Tash looked from one to the other in puzzlement, then amusement. "Oh, God. Do you two know each other? Perfect." *...or not so perfect,* she thought, gauging the mix of anger and jealousy that came from Quin.
“Um…” Reah scratched her head in confusion. She hadn’t seen Quin since before her parents died! She had to take another closer look, double checking her vision: she looked so… different! “…Come in?” *What the hell!*
Tash entered the flat, looking back at Quin who remained in the doorway, hesitating. "It's ok, Quin. She doesn't bite... much." Tash eyed Reah up and down. "Though it's been a few days since I've seen you, Reah. You still looking into that business you were dealing with?" Tash desperately didn't want to hear that Reah had murdered a human being, but she knew the woman wouldn't stop until Kolya's death was avenged.
Reah shook her head, darting glances back to Quin occasionally while she addressed Tash’s question, “Um… yeah, nothing yet.” She stopped, considerately, then sighed. Making the effort to answer Tash properly, without distraction, she added a touch flatly, “We’re still looking into it.”
Eventually Quin took a hesitant step into the room, all the while continuing to stare at Reah in contempt. Reah’s nose scrunched up at the look Quin was giving her, *Now why the hell do I deserve that?*
There was a distinct air of tension in the room, but Quin had been tense from the second Tash had first seen the girl. Tash looked at her, "Maybe I should leave you two to catch up?" She let the question hang, trying to gauge both Quin's and Reah's reactions.
"Um... yeah sure." Reah answered distractedly, now curious as to how and why Quin was there. "Thanks, Tash. Hey, I'll talk to you later. K?"
"Absolutely. There's a bit of a Halloween get-together planned that you'll probably be interested in - but I think you might not have enough costume bits yet." Tash mentally rolled her eyes. She hated having to be cryptic in front of strangers, but she could hardly talk about the Elders openly in front of Quin. She didn't want to scare the poor girl off completely.
She turned for the door and smiled encouragingly at Quin. "When Reah's talked your ear off you can come back upstairs if you want. I'll either be in my apartment or the training room. Or if you'd rather stay here with Reah that's fine too. Either way, I'm easy."
Quin nodded, uttering another quiet thanks. Reah just stood there, arms crossed with a smug smirk on her face, nodding in understanding of the innuendo Tash was using in order to keep Quin safe from overhearing the wrong thing. At Tash’s last remark, however, just before she slipped out the door, Reah’s eyebrows shot up and she childishly poked her tongue out at the woman.
At the last second, before the closing door extinguished the last thin crack of light, Tash returned a wink at Reah in response. Then she closed the door fully and stood there a moment, hoping her instinct had been right - that Quin might open up more to Reah than herself, especially if the two had once known each other. Maybe, just maybe, Quin could learn to trust someone. Tash had a feeling the girl needed to let something out. And soon.
With a sigh Tash ascended the stairs, ready to face another day of training.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
22nd October,
1:30pm
Dray’chen carved a bloody path through the department store. With the sword in one hand he cut down all who came in reach in a spray of blood. With the gun in the other he brought down those from afar, pausing only to reload. A trail of bodies lay behind him, marking his passing. He left bloody footprints in his wake and his laughter rose higher than even the screams.
People fled from him, stood before him paralysed, and some ran to him as well hoping to stop him. Dray’chen slaughtered those with even more joy than the others. To crush their hopes when they were so high, to cast them down when they were so noble… ah, the sheer pleasure of it. There was no escape for those that ran, either. The department store had been sealed off earlier. It seemed somebody had tripped the security alarm to lock it down and changed the passwords, preventing entry. That, the demon mused, would be the official story. But he, however, knew it was a mysterious energy barrier cutting this section off. He should know; after all, he had cast the spell.
As for those that froze before him, those he killed without a second’s thought. They only served to prove what Dray’chen already knew; that the human race was weak in comparison to beings like himself.
Indeed, this power was probably what it felt like to be a god. He must make the most of it then, as the only chance he'd ever got to achieve that status was lost long ago. The odds of it ever recurring any time in the next thousand years were so infinitesimally small they were barely worth thinking about.
And make the most of it Dray’chen did, and had been doing.
Flasback to October 20th,
LAX.
3:00pm
Dray’chen strode into the airport carrying himself high. Dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase, many people would never recognise him, especially not Chance’s old acquaintances. But he didn’t dress so to escape notice. Appearances were everything, after all. No, he did so to confuse anybody who investigated afterwards even more.
For there would be an investigation, of course. He carried two ZMG 9mm’s under his jacket, old Soviet weapons purchased off the black market, to make the investigation go on longer, and in his briefcase a bomb. Not your ordinary bomb by any means. No, this was a magical bomb. It would escape detection and wouldn’t harm him in the slightest. An investigation there most certainly would be, and the longer he dragged it on for, the longer the authorities chased after this lead or that; all the better. And entertaining, of course.
Ignoring the check-in, the demon headed straight to the baggage control. He joined a queue, any one. They were all long and he didn’t mind waiting. After all somebody like him had a lot of patience.
Then it came to his turn. Dray’chen placed the suitcase on the conveyor belt and stepped through the metal detector. Sure enough, it beeped urgently. Many people nearest turned to look and he smiled. They would get an excellent view.
A security guard stepped forward, asking for him to remove all metallic objects. Other than just grinning at him, Dray’chen didn’t react.
When the guard stepped closer he flashed into action. Before anybody realised what was going on the demon had pulled out one of his guns and cut the man in half in a spray of bullets that tore through his body. People began screaming and other guards ran over. The woman watching the monitor began shouting something about a bomb into her walkie-talkie, and more guards came running over, as well as a few cops too. That was fine with him; the more the merrier.
As the original security guard’s body hit the floor, Dray’chen unholstered the other ZMG’s. Holding them at arm’s length in both hands he began firing, twirling round in a circle for maximum effect. All around him people fell like wheat before the scythe, shot repeatedly in an ever widening perimeter.
The demon had to admit, he did love these guns.
By the time the weapon’s clicked empty nearly everybody in the immediate vicinity was lying dead. With a casual calm Dray’chen dropped them and approached his suitcase to finish off everybody else. He flicked the catches and raised the lid. Within, a green orb pulsed with a sickly light. The light shadowed his features but picked out his own green eyes.
Taking out the orb and a few other items the demon went to work.
A few minutes later he was heading back the way he came. Dray’chen had only just reached the lobby when the moment arrived he was waiting for. Helicopters had just begun to circle overhead and dozens of police cars had pulled up out front, but that didn’t concern him. Instead, it was the army of police and SWAT that had forced their way in through the front and were even now approaching him, a variety of weapons raised and shouting their orders at him.
The demon almost laughed at that. How dare they order him? Instead, Dray’chen merely waited.
When they were a few feet away he held up his hand. They all took a step back, expecting a weapon or grenade of some sort. Close, but not close enough. It was a gem, the same colour as the orb but small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.
Dray’chen crushed it. Back in the suitcase, still lying on the conveyor belt, the orb pulsed and a light similar to the gem's colour radiated outwards in a shockwave that travelled nearly faster than the eye could follow.
In the lobby, the army had moved forward again. The shockwave blew past Dray’chen leaving him untouched and met them head on before they even had a chance to react. Each body it passed over was drained of life until there was nothing left but a withered corpse, which tumbled to the ground where frail and fragile bones broke and snapped. Mouths hung open in a never-ending but silent scream whilst cheeks sunk in and eyes melted.
Outside, the other authorities watched on amazed as their forces collapsed on the ground, and then watched still shocked as the wavefront moved towards them. They all ducked for cover behind cars or vans or even just cowering on the floor. But they were spared. As it neared the airport entrance it dissipated, and in doing so blew out all the glass doors and windows, showering them instead with shards of glass.
When they had summoned the courage to look back, they could see no sign of Dray’chen. Cautiously the authorities moved in, securing the airport slowly and carefully.
Nobody who had still been in the building had survived.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
October 22nd
1:30 p.m.
Outside the department store, amongst the hustle and bustle of onlookers and news reporters held back by the thin blue line of police blockades, one woman in particular watched with concern. Her hair was long and brown, and her skin pale. Should anybody look closely they would notice a peculiar trait. Although to a casual glance her eyes were both green, upon a closer inspection it would be discovered one was blue. This woman also knew exactly what was going on. But what was more; she was helpless to stop it.
That would all change. The woman with the mis-matched eyes turned her head the slightest fraction, and out the corner of her eye caught a glimpse of her. Yes, her. The one who would help the woman. The one that would be the emotional bridge she needed to complete what had been undone. Now, she decided, was as good a time as any.
She slipped easily through the crowd to the woman whose pretty features were twisted by concern, pain and worry. It was not until the woman was at the other’s shoulder that she finally noticed her.
“Umm… Excuse me?” Alessa asked as she turned to discover a woman standing right next to her.
“Alessandra Hunt? I am in need of your help,” she replied.
Alessa had been so absorbed with what was going on in the department store that she had paid little attention to the woman next to her. Now she scrutinized her face. Her eyes, of different colors, were old and strangely intense. Alessa nodded, wordlessly, then opened her mouth when she realized that the woman had recognized her even though she wasn’t wearing her true form.
“What… ?” she asked, “How did you… ?” she noticed that she was babbling and stopped, nodding again. "How can I help you?" she finally said, still mesmerized by the woman's strange eyes.
“I’m here to help,” the woman replied, nodding towards the department store. “To help Chance,” she added.
At that Alessa’s eyes lit up. “Chance? You mean you know Chance?” she asked and threw a nervous glance to the police officers and SWAT teams that were trying to get access to the department store. Looking back at the woman, she added “You said you needed my help… to help Chance. Who are you?” Alessa asked, intrigued.
After taking a careful look around, the woman revealed her identity. “My name is Pandora. Like I said, I’m here to help Chance. I can’t say any more right now in case anybody is listening, and it’s not important. What I can tell you is that if we don’t move away soon he,” Pandora cocked her head towards the department store for emphasis, “will find me. I understand this is somewhat abrupt, but you have to trust me.” Her eyes glistened brightly with insistence.
Alessa didn’t have to ask who he was. Tearing her gaze away from the woman’s she looked around. She didn’t want Dray’chen to spot her either. “Then let’s go some place else,” she said. The woman nodded again and followed her to a small café from where they could still watch the blocked street.
Once in the café, she watched the woman with interest. “Pandora,” she repeated, “how can I help you? How do you know Chance... and Dray'chen?"
Pandora’s eyes darkened and her face grew grim. She sighed. “I have known… Chance for some time, but he doesn’t know that. Or, more accurately, he can’t remember that. He can’t remember a lot.” When Alessa nodded, she went on. “I see this isn’t coming as much as a surprise. Or at least if it is, you are hiding it just as well as your are your true form. I assume you had come to suspect something?”
Alessa bit her lip, assessing the woman in front of her. She didn’t know how much she could trust Pandora, but when it came to Chance she didn’t have many choices, she thought, and decided to trust her. “I’ve been doing some research," she said. “I think that Chance is really a much older person… a Templar Knight named Matthew…” she didn’t finish her sentence, her eyes holding a question.
Pandora nodded in reply. “Yes, that is correct. It is a long tale and his exploits lengthy, but I will give you a summary. A boy, Matthew, was born to a tribe in 1102CE in England, but he was forced to flee at sixteen. He met a French monk, and eventually joined the Knights Templar. But, somehow, he was possessed by a demon in 1125.” She paused before going on, shaking her head.
“I don’t know how this happened, or why, but it did. This demon is one of the most unpleasant I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. That almost anybody has ever had the misfortune to meet. However, unlike most of them I’m one of the only lucky few to walk away after.”
“Dray’chen,” Alessa breathed, leaning forward and listening intently.
“Yes. Dray’chen. A demon straight from the fiery planes of Hell itself, that can only walk on the physical plane through possession of mortals. It is extremely powerful, highly dangerous and bent on only inflicting as much pain as possible, physical or mental.”
Alessa nodded, closing her eyes to hold back her tears. Her own meeting with Dray’chen was very clear in her memory. “And all the time has Chance… or Matthew, been aware of the demon's exploits?”
In reply, the other woman shook her head. “I’m afraid not. That’s the next part of the story. Two hundred years after the demon took his body, I managed to bind the demon inside Matthew. I hoped to create another warrior of good, but I made a fatal mistake. Indeed, for centuries he was a powerful fighter and I had great hopes for him. But then something happened.
"At the beginning of 2005, Matthew sought me out. He was a mess, literally, and demanded me to give instructions for wiping his memory and creating a new persona. I don’t know why he did it, but he did. I reluctantly agreed, and made sure to keep an eye over him. The spell, a very powerful one, created this personality known as ‘Chance’. He has no knowledge of who he was.”
“I thought so…" whispered Alessa, Chance couldn’t have feigned that knowledge so well. She had seen him grieve when he told her of his parents and his features contort when he repeated his vow of revenge to her… he had really been Chance. His life as Matthew probably only emerged in his dreams - or nightmares, she mused. Although why his new life had contained so much pain… She shook her head; there were more important issues at hand to wonder about that.
“So you did bind him before? You were the witch mentioned in the codexes?” she asked. "Can you do it again?" Alessa held her breath as she asked this.
“That’s the question,” Pandora answered. “Yes, it was me. I was a lot younger then. Now? Honestly, I don’t know. Matthew’s spell has somehow weakened my original one, and now that’s Dray’chen’s released…” she trailed off, shaking her head.
“I’ll need help. That’s where you come in. I need a strong bridge to him to establish a link for the spell. With any luck, your emotional attachment should suffice. And then I’ll need another spellcaster of decent ability to help with the incantation itself.”
Hope. What the witch was telling her was that there was hope. She refused to think about anything else. With a brilliant smile she said. “I know just the person for that.”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Friday, 20 October 2006
L’Than’s Clinic
9:47pm
In his time staying with L’Than, Nikolai had managed to pick up more about the ‘other world’ than he had ever expected. She still tried to convince him to forgo vengeance, but usually had a sad look at the thought that Nikolai would not be stopped.
He’d shown up within a day or two again of going to find Zoë, a complete wreck. L’Than immediately sensed his grieving and asked what was wrong; Nikolai declined to talk about it at first, until she proved herself to be rather observant. Her concern had shown through, and Nikolai shortly found himself weeping as she attempted to comfort him.
Soon however grief returned to a cold rage. It was the most dangerous kind: not the heated, impassioned desire that lead to highway shootings. This rage was the determined kind, that fixed the goal firmly in mind and left no other thought than its completion. Killing Lavrenti Sabarov would have been just a matter of survival before. Now, it was retribution.
And if there was one thing Sabarov had taught Nikolai, it was the value of retribution.
At least the spikes were completely gone, and his eyes back to normal by now. That was the only upside to recent events.
“Have you considered that you are doing exactly what this Lavrenti Sabarov wants you to do?” the Xangyarj asked, shifting tactics for tonight. “You’ve said yourself, this is the way he operates. Never go for the kill when you can go for the pain?”
Nikolai carried the empty plates over to the sink to wash them. She had objected the first time he did that, when he snapped that he wasn’t about to be completely useless if he was staying with the healer. “Have to give you credit for persistence.” The faucet turned on as the sound of running water filled the room. “My hope is that by disappearing long enough, Sabarov will think I’m dead.”
“Why would he have felt the need to destroy the woman you love, then?”
“He didn’t believe I was dead, hoped that would draw me out. That would be my guess.”
“And why should he think that you are actually dead just on Damen’s word?” Nikolai stopped cold, turning off the water. She did have a point. Sabarov knew Nikolai far too well to think that he was dead without the hard evidence, though the hope would be that no one else would try to collect. “I will not try to dissuade you from your path, so intent are you on seeking vengeance. But I will counsel you not to let your grief be your undoing. Zoë would not have wanted that.”
“No, she wouldn’t.” His voice was soft, his head lowered. Mechanically, slowly, Nikolai returned to the chair. More than anything, he longed for a return to the old life he’d been living. The life before G’rnatha, before Lavrenti Sabarov made his return to LA. Perhaps, he considered for a moment, she was right. That he should not return to the old ways.
At least after Sabarov was taken care of. Then he could consider it.
“You’re still worried about him,” L’Than’s voice came from near him, and he looked over to see the reptilian demon standing near him. Amazing how fast something of that sort became normal. What had she said eventually, that she was an empath?
Nikolai nodded silently. There had been absolutely no news at all on Ben. Nothing.
The uncertainty was worse than anything else, he thought. Ben could still be out there and alive, it was possible. Or the young boy could have been killed by Sabarov. “The bastard! There was no reason to hurt either of them, none at all.”
He could not hold back the emotions that he’d so prided himself on being able to control, as L’Than attempted to comfort him. She moved beside him, placing an arm around him. “I know it hurts, like the whole world is about to come crashing down,” she said, “But you will heal with time.”
At that very moment, there was a loud crash as the door to the clinic was kicked open.
Nikolai acted on instinct, drawing his pistol in one smooth motion as a group of four people started to move into the room. The door was completely broken off its hinges, being unable to survive the force of being kicked open. Their intent was plainly obvious even before the exchange of gunfire occurred.
Something buzzed by Nikolai’s ear as he saw the lead fall back, slowing his comrades’ entrance. He felt L’Than pulling him towards the back entrance of the room, grabbing and pulling her towards the ground as the sound of pistols firing in quick succession filled the air.
Nikolai fired into the air randomly a few times when it died down, hoping that whoever was trying to kill them would be distracted long enough to allow them to escape. They moved quickly across the floor, trying to remain crouched down as low as possible. L’Than opened the door leading into the alley way, and they moved through it.
They stood and ran, the Monte Carlo waiting at the end of the alley. There was really only one chance at escape. Nikolai had his keys out by the time they reached it, unlocking the door.
“Look out!” L’Than yelled, pushing Nikolai aside.
A gunshot sounded, and he felt blood splatter upon his side. L’Than fell to the pavement, Nikolai using the door as cover while shooting back. He would be out soon, so used careful aim when returning fire. Looking down, he could see clearly that the wound was bad. L’Than had been shot in the chest. Seeing no other alternative he dragged her the necessary two feet to the back door, opened it, and hauled her inside. Shutting it quickly, he moved low while emptying his clip to get in the car.
The calibre of the bullets was no match for the otherworldly armour of his car. Nikolai turned the engine, headlights coming on as the car came to life. Pressing the gas pedal to the floor he aimed directly for one of the shooters standing in the way. All got out of the way but one, who was struck in the side.
Nikolai sped through the streets for a good twenty minutes before finally pulling aside to check on the demon L’Than. Her breathing was coming heavier as he moved towards the back of the car, and he silently cursed his inability to do anything.
“Nikolai,” she said low, “There is something… are you… willing… to help me survive?”
He nodded, and felt her hand on the side of his cheek. There was a feeling of pressure in his head, like something was pushing. Nikolai felt his breathing increase, unable to pull away. L’Than’s eyes rolled into her head in focus as her concentration increased. Moments later the pressure, which had grown nearly intolerable, stopped.
Nikolai took a moment to clear his head. *What the hell just happened?* he wondered. Looking down, he examined L’Than lying down in the back of the car. Whatever she had wanted him to do, he had failed. She had ceased to breathe, and he could feel no more pulse. “God damnit,” Nikolai muttered, knowing only one person who would have ordered this.
For the second time that day, he cried before starting the car again.
Sabarov would pay dearly, for now three ‘civilians’ had died.
daye receives bad news
*** Flashback ***
*** Wednesday, August 30, 2003 ***
Daye sat in her office, reading and rereading the e-mail she had just received from the Council. She was dumbfounded, unable to believe what she was seeing. She had contacted England a week ago, right after she and Kate had worked on the diary. She had expected to hear back immediately. Boy, was she ever surprised.
Daye had asked the Council to send reinforcements, to possibly send the new Slayer, so that they could battle the Brotherhood on somewhat more even footing. It had taken the Council this long to respond to her request, and the response was as far from what she’d been expecting as possible. The Council flat out refused to send anyone else to L.A. As a matter of fact, they were ordering her and all other operatives to return to England immediately.
“Fat chance,” Daye snorted, as she stood up from behind her desk. Daye moved to the door and opened it, calling for Mrs. Wyldling to join her in the office. The shop was quiet, and they really needed to discuss this.
Alicia came into the office and shut the door. She sat down, watching Daye carefully.
“I take it this isn’t good news, Amanda,” she said.
Daye shook her head, “Not by half.”
“The Council has ordered us all to return immediately,” Daye said bluntly.
Alicia nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose this is about the Brotherhood,” she said.
Daye was shocked. “I didn’t think you knew… I mean, how did you know?”
“I’m a Watcher too,” Alicia admonished. “I am aware of what goes on around here.”
Alicia’s weighted statement hung in the air. Daye blushed. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just wasn’t sure… I mean…”
“It’s all right, dear,” Alicia stopped her. “I don’t suppose you have any reason to trust me not to report things back to the Council. In all honesty, I think my assignment was to spy on you. Not that I have, mind you. I don’t think that the Council has a right to know your every move. You’re a bright girl, and I figure you and your friends have done a lot to keep us all out of hot water.”
“Thank you, Alicia,” Daye said sincerely. “And I understand that you have to leave. I don’t expect you to jeopardize your standing with the Council over this.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Amanda,” Alicia corrected her. “I won’t be deserting you all now at this most inopportune time.”
Daye was shocked. She blinked several times before replying. “That’s… well, I just think… Thank you, again, but I think what’s coming may be more than you’ve bargained for. I don’t expect you to fight the Brotherhood. That’s too much.”
“I won’t remind you again,” Alicia said, “I am a Watcher. I’ve fought my share of demons in my day. I’d be proud to stand with you and do so again.”
Daye accepted the other woman’s words. This was hardly the army she’d been hoping for, but they weren’t about to give up now.
*** End Flashback ***
the WC Corps new general
*** Thursday, October 26, 2006 ***
The girl danced through the ranks of demons, her style effortless. She twirled and leapt, slicing here and slashing there, leaving behind a trail of arms, legs, and twitching torsos. Her long, dark hair fell in wet waves down her back when she finally came to a stop at the end of the room. Her audience remained silent as she turned towards them. Without a word, she raised her arm and offered a salute to one of the men.
“Well done, Ana,” the man’s voice was cultured and soft. He turned to the man standing beside him. “She is absolutely perfect. You’ve done a fine job, Tom, better than I even expected.”
Tom Browley grinned broadly at the Director’s comment. He followed the other man into the training ring and stood behind as Delancre slowly circled Ana. Ana stood at relaxed attention, her hands held behind her back, her chin high.
“Miss Graziani,” Ambrose stopped in front of the young woman. “What is your primary objective?”
“To lead the Watchers' Corps in the fight against all non human interests, sir!” Ana snapped.
Ambrose nodded, “Very good.”
“She’s trained for this, sir,” Tom broke in. “Ana’s strong and capable, and she’s ready.”
Ambrose turned to the other man. “No doubt, Tom,” he said. “She’s exactly what I was hoping for. Very soon we may have the chance to really field test her. Depending on what happens in L.A., anyway.”
Tom nodded. He noticed the Director’s simmering anger and could guess the cause. All of the field agents in Los Angeles had returned with the exception of four. James Han was missing and unaccounted for, and Alicia Wyldling had arranged to stay in the city using her influence with some of the Council Elders. Ambrose was upset about both of them, but he was furious about the two others. Both Amanda Blaise and Jessica Travers had both remained in the city and ignored all attempts at contact by the Council. They were officially AWOL. In the case of Amanda, at any rate, First Elder Delancre was enraged. The girl had been one of his own, and the other man was not happy at this turn of events.
“Well, I thank you for this demonstration,” Delancre said. “I have other business to attend to this morning, but I do think the Corps is coming along nicely, and Ana is the perfect Field General.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tom replied, following Delancre to the door.
First Elder Delancre left his army behind the closed door of the training area, feeling better than he had in weeks. Amanda may have proven to be a truly faithless little bitch, but she would not succeed in thwarting his plans any longer. If she and her friends survived the Brotherhood, and with the power that group now possessed it was a big “if”, then Ambrose would just have to send the WC Corps on its first assignment, a retrieval mission. One way or the other, he would get control of Maia, and Amanda would pay for her headstrong ways. There was no question. Ambrose Delancre had worked long and hard for this, and no one was going to stand in his way.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Sunday, 22nd October 2006 - 3:30pm
Chance’s Place
Alessa looked around a little awkwardly, trying to find a spot comfortable enough for them to talk - Chance’s place was almost bare of furniture. Finally she moved the only chair on the room next to the windowsill and signalled the woman to sit. Cole sat on the window itself and she brought a big cardboard box to seat herself.
She had called the boy almost immediately after Pandora had told her she needed some magician to help her with the spell and Cole had come without any questions. She smiled at the teen; he was pale and seemed anguished too. These last days had not been easy for him, either. He had been surprised to find a strange woman with Alessa but trusted her, so he was intently listening to the witch now.
It was Pandora who spoke first, after introductions had been made and a lengthy silence. “I suppose I must give an explanation.”
“That’d be a start,” Cole said, scowling at her. Alessa gave him a look but he ignored it. She was about to rebuke him when the other woman cut in.
“No, no, Mr. Matthews is quite entitled to his anger,” Pandora said, raising a hand palm up. “It is more than his due. Firstly, let me tell you everything Miss Hunt already knows.” She proceeded to recall what she had shared with Alessa earlier.
Cole’s eyes widened as the woman went on. When she had finished, his mouth hung open; speechless. “So, you’re saying Chance is this Matthew… who’s a demon?”
“No, not exactly,” Pandora answered. "For all intents and purposes, Matthew is more or less dead. It is only his memories that linger on, with perhaps a thought every now and again. And he is not a demon, either. Merely possessed by one. There is a difference. Slight, but one nonetheless.”
"He is Chance now, Cole,” Alessa stated, with more security than she really felt. She had been wondering how all this would end once Dray’chen was rebound, but had stopped herself every time she thought about it.
“Pandora says that she can bind him again, and that’s all that matters now. But she needs you though, that’s why I called you. Will you help us, Cole?” She was sure that the kid’s offer of help was still on, but she didn’t want to push him. Spells like this could be dangerous. Alessa couldn’t do magic but that much she knew.
“I really do need your help, Cole,” Pandora pressed, uncharacteristically using his first name. “Miss Hunt will provide for some of the emotional link, but you would contribute too. Besides, I’m not as powerful as I used to be, and you will act as a kind of ‘boost’.”
The kid chewed on his bottom lip for a minute or two, lost in thought. He wanted to help Chance badly, but at the same time worried over this spell. He had had a run-in with Dray’chen and knew how powerful he could be. Did he really want to try and go up against him again, earning more of his wrath if they failed? And would he be able to live with himself, even if the demon didn’t kill him, knowing he had failed his one and only friend in his time of need?
In the end, he decided the risk was worth it. What would Chance think if he did nothing? Was that the type of thing Chance would do? No, he would get up and face the problem head-on, grabbing it by the horns. “Ok,” Cole said, finally, in a small voice. “I’ll do it.”
Alessa smiled brightly to the kid, and repressed herself not to go and hug him. She knew Cole wasn’t used to being shown affection. Then she turned again to Pandora. The woman was smiling too, relief in her strange eyes. Alessa wondered if the woman was strong enough to actually do the spell, but she dismissed the thought quickly. It had to work.
“What do you need for the spell, Pandora?” she asked instead. “And how can I help? You know, I’m completely useless with magic… but I’ll do whatever you tell me to help Chance.”
“There are two ways of returning Chance back,” Pandora said in reply. “The first involves exorcising him from the body completely. It’s a lot easier to perform and requires a lot less preparation. However, I don’t know what effects it will have on the human body. Normally, exorcisms occur after a few days, weeks or months of possession, after which the body is drained mentally and physically. In some cases years, and it is not unknown for a recently freed body to die under the strain after living under possession for so long. Chance, or rather Matthew, has been possessed for centuries. I don’t know what this would do to him.”
She paused for effect, taking in the drawn and pale faces watching her before going on. “Although rebinding may be risky in the short term, I feel it would be much better in the long term. I’ll need to collect some materials and spend quite a large amount of time in meditation, as will Mr. Matthews, but I believe that would be our best option.” Pandora paused again, before turning to Alessa. “However, as the person closest to Chance I leave the final decision up to you.”
She could understand what the witch was telling her. Chance, *No, Matthew,* should have died centuries ago. If they exorcised the demon from his body, it was unknown what effect that would have on him. She couldn’t risk that. Even if the binding was risky, that was riskier. She looked at the witch again.
“I think that we should try rebinding Dray’chen,” she said.
Pandora nodded. “Very well. Now, the spell involves…”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Monday, 30th October 2006 – 3:15am
The Hyperion Hotel
*What the hell is going on?* Darian thought as he desperately struggled to break the chains confining him to the dank cellar room. It had been several days, or so he guessed – keeping track of time was an impossibility in his condition – since Dathan had come to pay him a visit. He was certainly glad for the lack of attention from the sadistic Ancient, but one thing he couldn’t stand was not knowing what was happening. Had Dathan simply forgotten about him? Lost interest? Perhaps the Elder had been killed – no, that couldn’t be, for vampires continued to visit him.
Whatever it was, this state of stasis was almost as painful as one of the Ancient's torture sessions. Vampires of the brood would frequently pop in and out to feed on him, but none would talk to him, let alone answer his questions. *Bastard locks me up here, beats me half way to death and doesn’t have the bloody decency to finish the job.* The fae's powerful muscles bulged one last time as he tried to yank the chains free from the wall, but it was no use. He was suffering from loss of blood and starvation, and his body just did not have the strength to accomplish anything.
Upstairs, Ellie had just returned from the evening's outing still full of enthusiasm. She and her entourage had had a wonderful time at a trendy nightclub. The DJ was really cute, so Ellie turned him and then fed on half a dozen of the patrons while the rest were slaughtered by the other vamps. Ellie had laughed out loud when Britney had eviscerated a patron wearing a Britney Spears is a Whore t-shirt and then sang Oops I Did It Again while wearing his intestines as a necklace. It had definitely been a high point.
And now the fun was over but Ellie was still buzzed. Then she passed by one of Dathan's lesser vampires emerging from the basement wiping blood from his chin. "Ooh," she squealed, "Got munchies down there? Any left for me?"
The vampire looked a little sheepish and said, "Uh, not really. Dathan has a prisoner down there that we're not supposed to kill... Our master hasn't mentioned the kid for nearly a week now. But we still nibble now and then." He leered at Ellie, "Maybe we could, like, have a picnic down there together?"
Ellie eyed the straggly-haired vamp with a sneer. "Ewww. I don't think so - no way you're pretty enough for me."
Grumbling, the vampire stalked off and Ellie nearly turned for her room, but then she glanced about. Nobody was in the hallway. Who'd see? Giggling, she eased open the basement door and closed it quietly behind her before descending the stairs. Nobody was in the first room, but she remembered that in her last minutes as a human she'd been taken through the far door.
She tried the handle. Locked. But there, on a hook on the wall dangled a key. *Too easy,* Ellie thought, *I wonder what Santa's brought me for Christm...* Her thought died off as she stared at the man chained to the far wall.
"Hmm, you're a bit grotty. And you look like you could use a feed." Ellie cocked her head and held up her hands in a square as though seeing how he'd look on a TV screen. "But you're not bad," she announced.
Darian's weary head lifted at the sound of Ellie's voice. *This is odd, she is actually talking.* His breathing came heavily to him, the pain of the last vampire’s feeding still fresh on his shoulder. "So where did the Elders pick you up, Baby GAP?" The fae hoped that if he could just manage to get one of the vamps ticked off enough they would finally end his miserable existence. Death was better than wasting away like he was.
Ellie eyed the man up and down. "Ha, ha, very funny. I'll have you know I could break you like a twig, even before I became a vampire."
She stalked towards him and ran a fingertip through the fresh blood running down his arm. Lifting the finger to her mouth she drew it inside and sucked on it slowly, never taking her eyes from the man's face. "So, cutie, what's your name?" she asked.
"Maybe it’s not a good idea to get my name. It would be a shame if you couldn’t bite me ‘cause you got emotionally attached," Darian responded, his voice cold, not at all matching Ellie's playful tone.
"Aww," Ellie pouted, "Kitten doesn't want to play." She traced a fingernail coquettishly around his throat to the back of his neck, making soft puppy-dog eyes at him. Then her manner changed abruptly. She grabbed the hair at the back of his head, yanked it back hard and snarled, "Kitten should remember who's boss around here."
Then fangs sank deep into Darian's throat and Ellie drank a long draught of the rich fluid. She pulled back, red rivulets running down her chin to join the blood-spattered clothing she'd come home in. "I don't think emotional attachment is something you need worry about, kitten," she smiled. "I just like to play."
Darian bit back from crying out as the young vampiress released his wounded throat. He could feel the warm crimson liquid drip from the punctures down to his bruised chest. "You act big and brave, but things would be different if I wasn’t chained here."
His blood was now seeping down into his throat, causing the man to break out into a coughing fit. Once he managed to compose himself, the fae looked the girl in the eyes, his expression full of defiance. "Can’t you do better than that? I guess not – you do only have your baby fangs. When you become a big vamp I’m sure you'll be able to drink more."
Through narrowed eyes Ellie focused on the man's throat, her hand raised in a claw, ready to tear out that offensive voice box. But recent memory stayed her hand. "Dathan has a prisoner down there that we're not supposed to kill..."
"You're lucky, kitten. One of the masters wishes you alive, or you'd be a twitching corpse by now." She almost left then, but two paces from the door she stopped and turned back to face the man. She smiled ingenuously, "But I can make sure I don't kill you, of course... nothing was said about not playing with you, kitten."
"You wanna play, Baby-Spice? Why not unlock these chains, then we can have a hell of a time."
Ellie curled her lip. "Really?" she said archly, "Do you honestly think you could take me on in a fight? I already told you, kitten, I could snap you in two even when I was human." She grasped his chin in her hand and pulled his face down to hers. Her lips met his in a fierce kiss and when she finally released him he bore two fresh puncture wounds in his lower lip.
Darian gathered a bit of blood in his mouth and spat it straight into the vampire’s face. "You're crazier than the rest of them. When you were human, you probably got all the boys to carry your heavy schoolbooks. And as a vampire, well I've got to tell you, you're not much scarier."
Ellie hissed, "When I was human, it was the vampires who trembled at my name. I was the Slayer, you ignorant fool!" She wiped the blood from her face and smeared it on the man's bare chest. In a softer tone she said, "And you, my sweet kitten, are about to become the Slayer-vampire's plaything."
She wrapped her legs about his waist and her arms about his neck, hoisting herself up to rest against him. One hand snaked up to loosen the chains about his wrists. "And by the time I'm done with you, my kitten," she purred, "you'll be wishing Dathan was back here torturing you again."
*****
Three hours later…
Darian’s head pounded and his neck throbbed, but he was still alive, barely. The blood loss was considerable, but the girl had exhausted him beyond even that – crimson gore mixed with other bodily fluids to form rivers that flowed down his body and legs. *I really thought I wouldn’t wake up this time,* he thought as he managed to open his eyes.
That led him to thoughts of the girl who had just left after chaining him to the wall once more. *Slayer Vampire... Shit, I wonder if Tash and the rest of them know about this?* He desperately wanted to warn his friends about the fifth super vamp, but he knew it was hopeless; there was no escape. Darian sighed and leaned forward, allowing his weight to rest on the chains holding him upright.
Something shifted ever so slightly as he did so, and a small pattering of brick-dust fell to the floor. *Well now, how about that?*
With thanks to Heather who wrote the part of Ellie.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
The Alexander Hotel, Canoga Park
Tuesday 24th October, 2006
4:00pm
Dray’chen stalked the corridors of the Alexander Hotel, walking amongst the corpses and the body parts and the blood splattered walls. The stench of death hung heavy in the air. Where people had frolicked on their holidays, enjoyed their free time, they now laid with glazed eyes - if they were lucky. The hotel had become a slaughterhouse. That somebody had called the police did not bother Dray’chen in the slightest. Surely by now they were too fearful to respond to reports of any massacres or so-called ‘terrorist’ activities. It would be many hours, Dray’chen was confident, until the law arrived.
The left corner of his mouth was turned up in a sinister smile. Terrorist. Yes, that was him. One who makes terror. He would add it to his long line of titles.
Besides, he had been quick and efficient. No more than half an hour had gone by before only one human was left alive.
Oh, how he had forgotten how much he enjoyed this; to be the hunter, to chase his prey as it fled from him, knowing that its doom was nigh and from which there was no escape, and yet tried anyway. Oh, the pleasure of it, the feeling of power the hunter has, knowing he can strike at will and yet biding his time. Knowing that the prey’s fate lies in his hands, that it is up to him whether it lives or dies. And to follow the prey as it sought a way to escape… It reminded him of the labyrinth of old. Now that had been entertainment.
Ah, it felt good to return to his ‘roots’, so to speak. A comparison to Dray’chen’s other recent actions; the Subway Slaughter, as the press were calling it, the Dark Fire at the train station, the magic bomb at LAX. And, oh yes, the massacre in Disney. *What an excellent idea that is… 'let’s gather up countless children in one place with their parents, where there’s only one way in and one way out…* Dray’chen chuckled. Like the schools, it was just an invitation for him. The combined screams of hundreds of mothers watching him butcher their offspring still echoed in his ears from three days earlier.
The demon felt his prey’s hopes rise. It must have found its way to the lobby, then. It was almost a surprise the prey had taken so long, but Dray’chen factored mental unstability into the equation and it made sense. That wasn’t surprising. Anybody who had seen what he had done and seemed to be miraculously spared wouldn’t be too good up there. He took a different approach to cut his prey off.
Dray’chen entered the lobby to find his prey just standing there. A girl, roughly eighteen, he guessed. She was covered in gore. It was dripping from her clothes as she stared at the lobby door out into the plant-filled courtyard. Interesting… there was her freedom, right there. And yet she didn’t take it. Perhaps she was having trouble with perceiving reality, that she thought this was unreal, too good to be true? *Such fragile minds these mortals have…*
Before the girl could break out of her trance, Dray’chen had closed the gap between them and wrenched her head off. Satisfied, he stood back with his arms behind his back to wait.
He did not have to wait long.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Tuesday, 24th October 2006 - 4:15pm
The sound of approaching footsteps caught Dray’chen’s attention. He turned to greet them.
“Well, well, well,” the demon teased, smiling. “I was beginning to wonder how long it would take before you showed up. Or how many people I would have to kill.”
A figure stepped into view, ignoring the carcasses that lay around Dray’chen. It was clothed in rags and bowed, as if carrying a great weight on his shoulders, but in one hand gripped a large sword that seemed to seek out what little light there was and focus it into something stronger.
He was a man both the demon and the host knew, although the demon more so than the host. Chance had only met him once, and had dismissed his empty warnings as just that; empty.
The Vagabond.
***
“We have to hurry,” Pandora said at Alessa’s apartment, her arms full of items needed for the rebinding. “There is not much time. A friend of mine, he calls himself the Vagabond, a very powerful man, is attempting to distract Dray’chen whilst we perform the spell.” She looked Alessa square in the eye. “I’ll be honest with you, despite his power it is very likely it will cost him his life.”
Alessa gulped, she and Pandora understood each other; it was not only this Vagabond that could lose his life in this attempt, but all of them. They had decided to do the spell in Alessa’s place because it had been there that Chance had spent the last days of his life… before Dray’chen was liberated.
“I hope he can detain him long enough for this to work…” She paused, looking at Cole who was busy arranging the elements for the spell, and then again to Pandora. “If not…” The witch nodded, none of them needing to utter the words. If the spell didn’t work out Dray’chen would come rushing for them… and this time he wouldn’t fail. He had grown too strong since their last meeting.
***
“I would have come sooner but I had a prior engagement,” the Vagabond said, in no worry about the demon that faced him amidst the massacre.
“I see,” Dray’chen replied, “And if you are here, it means that bitch of a witch Pandora is not far behind.”
“Perhaps,” the Vagabond replied, now circling the demon.
“So modest, dear Cartaphilus. Oh wait, that’s not what you’re going by any more, is it? Now… what is it? The Count of St Germain? No, that was a few centuries ago. Ah yes, my host tells me you call yourself ‘The Vagabond’. How interesting. The traveller with no home… yes, rather appropriate. As ever.”
The Vagabond merely shook his head. “I tried to warn you, dear boy. I tried…”
“I’m sorry, Chance can’t come to the phone right now. But please leave your name and a message, and I’ll slaughter you right away.” He grinned in anticipation.
“That’s not going to happen.” As the Vagabond finished, he flicked up the point of his sword. Simultanously, he dropped his glamour and revealed himself truly; nobly clothed with an inner light glowing brightly. The energy his weapon had been gathering burst out in a wave of white power heading straight for the Dray’chen, ready to slice him apart at midsection.
The demon merely laughed and waved his hand, and the light blew away like fire in a strong wind until it had died. “You’re going to have to do better than that, I’m afraid. You see, I’ve recovered from nine hundred years on this plane to become stronger and stronger. You, on the other hand…” He cocked his head. “Well, let’s just say age is finally catching up to you.”
The Vagabond remained defiant, with sword raised. “I am stronger than you think. Appearances can be-"
“Deceiving,” Dray’chen cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Yes, yes I know. I’ve heard the line before. Did Pancake, I mean Pandora, teach it to you? Everybody knows you’re her lapdog.”
Cartaphilius ignored the banter. “I will destroy you, demon.”
“Be my guest,” the demon replied, arms held out openly.
The Vagabond cut a dazzling display of swordsmanship in the air. From the twirls and twists a flock of doves flew. Brighter than the sun they were, lighting the horrific scene around them, and shooting towards Dray’chen. He opened his mouth and screamed a few words. From out of it poured a mass of bats, black as night, which met the doves head on. The two spells neutralised each other as they met with a flash of light and a thunderclap.
Dray’chen drew his sword, the demonic weapon throbbing with the power massing in the room. “That the best you’ve got?” he asked, advancing.
“I’m just beginning,” ccme the reply, even though the Vagabond stood slightly less confidently.
“Good. I was afraid this was going to be boring.”
With one pause to gather themselves, the two warriors leapt at each other. Within moments, the mass grave exploded into a flurry of sword blows, sparks and spells.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Tuesday, 24th October 2006 - 4:30pm
The Vagabond staggered back under Dray’chen’s offensive. Long ago he was forced to give up an offensive of his own. Now forced onto a constant defensive, he grudgingly admitted the demon was stronger than he was. Although no wounds had been scored on him, and vice-versa, he was becoming increasingly exhausted both mentally and physically. They had already been fighting for fifteen minutes, and he did not know how long he could go on. For the first time in his long existence, Cartaphilius faced his own death.
He parried a sword blow that sent sparks flying, then raised a hand of light to deflect a dark mist pouring from the demon’s host’s nostrils and threatening to choke him. The mist collapsed in face of his counter-spell, and bought him enough time to attempt one of his own. He whispered a few words, and with a final shout his sword exploded in flame.
Using this to great advantage, Cartaphilius found himself pushing Dray’chen back. He knew it would not last long; the fire was already sizzling his hand and the shock factor had already worn off. It would only take a moment’s slip in concentration and the spells he was maintaining - the flaming sword, the self-healing and physical improvements - would flicker and die.
The demon took a few swift steps back out of his reach and held his own blade up to his face. After whispering a few words to it, it came back at the Vagabond with such force that the blade slipped passed his guard and cut deep into his shoulder. He let out a cry of pain, although quickly recovered. But that was all Dray’chen needed. The Vagabond's concentration had been broken.
Almost before the fire had gone out, Dray’chen’s demonic blade swept up in an uppercut that hit the Vagabond’s own. With no spells to improve it, the weapon shattered under the force. He dropped the useless hilt just as the demon backhanded him with such force his neck nearly broke. Cartaphilius fell to the floor, and before he could move Dray’chen had him. Grabbing him by the hair, he threw him into a wall. Hitting with a humph and a burst of pain through his entire body, the Vagabond sagged into a ball.
“It’s people like you that disgust me,” Dray’chen said as he grabbed the Vagabond’s head and proceeded to smash it against the wall savagely. “Close-minded people like you who can’t accept others because they’re different. Just because I’m a demon from hell and I like to kill, you go around discriminating us. You and that witch, telling this host how terrible I was. How I needed to be more than just locked away; that I should be forgotten.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Vagabond managed to splutter around mouthfuls of blood.
Dray’chen stood him up, even though he swayed like a drunkard. “Oh, don’t play with me Cataphilius. I know that’s why our dear Matthew had his memory wiped. After all this time, he couldn’t stomach knowing about me, couldn’t bear the knowledge. All because of you and Pancake. So he finally fell to the last temptation of Christ; to live a normal life-”
“But that’s not why-" the Vagabond began.
The demon slapped him so hard he fell back to the floor in a crumpled heap. “Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking! Where was I?” He paused. “Oh, yes. And I was forced to exist as nothing more than a forgotten memory for more than a year! As if it wasn’t bad enough before, this was far, far worse! But now, at last, I have one of those responsible…” Dray’chen paused again. “Wait, you were going to say ‘but that’s not why he did it’, weren’t you?”
Cartaphilius kept his tongue. In his fatigue he had let something slip, and he would rather die than reveal the truth to this monster.
Dray’chen crouched down next to where he lay, a curious smile on Chance’s face and a green glint in his eye. “So, all three of you are trying to hide something from me. Does dear Chance know? No, I would have found out soon enough. What, then? Speak. I can do this the easy way or the hard way.” He leaned in closer. “Honestly, I’d rather do it the hard way. That’s always more fun.” Still, no answer. “Fine, have it your way.”
The demon reached out with his hand to clutch the Vagabond by the chin. Viciously, he turned his face towards him and looked deep into his eyes. His own glowed green and he began muttering under his breath.
With a final word, Dray’chen plunged the fingers of his other hand into the man’s eye sockets. The Vagabond screamed as green fire leapt out of them, and arced electric up Dray’chen’s arms into his head.
There was a blinding flash as the magical backlash killed Cartaphilius, the Count of St Germain, the Vagabond, instantly. His bloody, battered and beaten body burnt to a blackened crisp so quickly he was cut off in mid-scream.
*****
Within Alessa’s apartment, Pandora gasped. She felt as if a part of her had been torn out and burnt. For a barest moment, her body felt as if it had been burnt.
“What is it?” Alessa asked.
“The Vagabond is dead,” she answered in a grim tone. “Dray’chen has killed him…”
Nobody said anything for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Alessa finally ventured.
Pandora had her eyes closed, and for a while it looked as if she wouldn’t say anything. Then she opened them. “No more than I am. But come, we must hurry.”
*****
Dray’chen set back on his haunches as the knowledge flooded through him. He smiled broadly, then began to laugh. After all this time, there was another opportunity. One that had been right under his nose all along.
He stood up, leaving the bloody remains behind. He had work to do.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Tuesday, 24th October 2006 - 4:45pm
Pandora and Cole sat opposite each other within a circle of candles, cross-legged and hand in hand. All other lights had been put out. In between them was another candle, a bowl of water, a second bowl of dirt. Combined, they were all representatives of the four elements; earth, air, fire, water.
Alessa circled them, waving incense. As she had said, she couldn’t do any magic, but her love for Chance provided an emotional bridge that was needed to reach his trapped soul. Her mind was clogged with worry, and she had to breathe in deep pants to steady the raging rhythm of her heart. If something went wrong… she stopped herself and steadied her pace again. It was no time for worries. Following Pandora’s instructions she concentrated in Chance as she had known him, laughing, loving… and kept that image in her mind.
As one, Pandora and Cole began to chant:
"Hear me, elders of the upper reaches, elders of the lower reaches,
elders of the dry land, elders of the river flats.
Ancients I beseech you. The soul, abstracted.
Let it revert to its true seat.
Let it be finished. Let the unnatural possessing the vessel be banished,
let the essence be returned to its original host."
Pandora let go of Cole’s hand to pour the water on the dirt, eyes still closed. Then she held the candle to the surface. It lit, and the smell of burning soon mixed in the air with that of the incense. She held her hand up, open. Alessa came and clasped it with her own, closing her eyes and focusing on her feelings for Chance.
“By the elements be bound, by the elements be done.
By the elements be bound, by the elements be done.”
On the last ‘done’ there was a pause, then a shriek could almost be heard, just on the edge of the hearing; like a radio with the volume turned right down to just above silent. Each of the candles flickered and went out. Only the flaming bowl still lighted the room, and quickly that too died.
*****
Dray’chen was still in the room when it happened. He was frozen in place, then pain lanced through both his possessed body and his very essence. Almost immediately, the demon knew what was happening; he was being bound again. Desperately he tried to run, to get to whoever was doing this and stop her. He knew it would be her, but his strength had failed him completely. Shrieking with both pain and frustration he collapsed to his knees. The unholy green fire blazed from his mouth and eyes as his head arched back, trying to break free and regain control. Veins stood out all along his body, pulsing with an evil power that was seeking to escape. But it failed, and was locked away again.
Finally he fell unconscious on his side, amidst the blood and bones and next to the blackened corpse.
*****
They all remained as they were for a minute or two in the darkness. No one dared speak in case the spell hadn’t finished, and doing so might interrupt it.
“Well,” Alessa asked at length, breaking the silence. “Did it work?”
“I think so,” answered Pandora. “We’ll have to see.” Despite the shadows, they could all dimly make out her motioning to the candle.
*****
He opened his eyes. It felt like he was opening them after having them shut for so long, like waking up after years of sleeping. And yet, that wasn’t right. He was weary, rather than refreshed. His brain was clouded, instead of sharpened.
At the same time he saw the corpses, he realised he didn’t know what his name was. Or, for that matter, anything about himself.
He did the only thing he could do under the circumstances; he screamed.
Halfway into the scream, whilst scrambling away from the death that was everywhere in the room on his hands and knees, everything came flooded back. He remembered his name, his age, where he was born, the fate of his parents. Everything he should have known, apart from what he was doing here. The scream faltered slowly and then died.
He was Chance.
This, he reasoned, was good. Now he knew who he was, the only problem was how he got here. And why he was surrounded by corpses.
The answers his mind dredged up filled him with dread. Chance picked himself up off the floor and staggered out the room, his stomach threatening to rise up at any moment and his knees weak.
****
Back in the apartment, the candle lighted itself and grew to life. Pandora sighed and sagged visibly, as did Cole. They both fell back onto the pillows behind them. Alessa rushed to them.
“Did it work?” Alessa pressed, “Did it work?”
“Yes,” was all Pandora was able to breathe, before she fell asleep.
*****
Out on the streets, Chance managed to stumble on a few feet. Nobody was paying attention to his distressed appearance; this was LA after all. He wasn’t heading in any general direction other than away from the massacre, and that was mainly due to the fact his brain was erstwhile occupied. Thoughts and images ran through his mind over and over again. They were fragmented and distorted, and although he didn’t know which order they went in, he was able to make some sense of them. He could be certain they had never happened to him, they weren’t his memories, and yet at the same time he wasn’t so sure.
Then he stumbled into something.
No, not something; somebody. A person.
“Hey, dipshit,” the man shouted. In a British accent, Chance vaguely noticed. “Watch where you’re bloody going!”
“Sorry, I’m sorry…” he mumbled, looking down at his feet. *What is going on? Where are all these thoughts in my head coming from?*
“Yeah, you should be,” the Brit replied. “Dumb Yanks. Don’t even look where they’re going.” He turned to walk off.
Just as he did so, Chance looked up into his face. What he saw shocked him so much his legs felt weak and he staggered. The face was older than what it was when he last saw him, but, yes, it was him. In the flesh.
“Pete… Pete? Is that you?” Chance asked in amazement.
The man stopped in his tracks and spun, frowning. “Yeah, I am. Who the hell are you and how do you know me?” he asked in concern.
“It’s me… it’s me Pete. Me. Felix… don’t you remember?” he babbled.
“I don’t know no Felix. Stop pestering me, mate, or we might have to get violent.”
“You… you don’t know me?” Chance asked. Then he remembered something else, something much worse than the face Pete didn’t know him. “Wait… wait. You’re dead.”
“Excuse me?” Pete asked with one eyebrow raised.
“You’re dead. I… I killed you myself. You were a vampire…”
“I’m a what now?”
But Chance ignored him and continued to babble. “You… you’re a vampire. I killed you… yet you’re here. What’s going on? What are all these voices in my head?”
Then it hit him with such force tears sprung to his eyes and he fell to the floor on his knees, head in his hands. He hadn’t killed Pete, he hadn’t been a vampire, Chance hadn’t even known him.
It had all been a lie.
*What’s going on? Who am I?* Chance pleaded desperately to himself as he began sobbing, struggling to come to terms with his identity. It was a lie… his whole life was a lie. None of it was real… none of it…
Pete looked over both shoulders, made sure nobody was looking, turned and ran away quickly. *Yanks,* he thought to himself. *Bloody mad, all of them.*
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Tuesday 24th October,
9:00pm
Chance wandered through the streets of LA, not knowing where he was going but knowing at the same time. Everything he was thinking, everything he knew… he couldn’t trust any of it.
He was a mess both physically and mentally, for he was still covered in the blood of the massacre at the Alexander Hotel. His clothes were stained with vomit as well; he had thrown up during the course of the afternoon more than once when scenes of death filled his head as vivid as if he was there. Which, in a way, he was and that was just one of many questions that were going round and round his head and making his brain hurt. To go with that, Chance was shaking slightly and his eyes were red-rimmed from crying.
Finally, he reached his destination; Anne’s Overnight, a Motel. He headed straight for a door, room number 88, and knocked once.
Inside, Pandora was sitting on one of the small room’s two chairs. When the knock came she told Chance to come in, and smiled to see he remembered, subconsciously at least. Pandora always occupied room 88 in a hotel.
He opened the door and stepped inside, leaving it open behind him, and had a quick look around. The room’s bed was unslept in, and Pandora sat directly across from him.
“What… what did you do to me?” he accused her, voice hoarse.
Pandora sighed and looked down. “Please, sit down.” She motioned to the other chair across from her.
Chance remained standing for a moment, then relented. He sagged rather than sat. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“You know most of it yourself. But I imagine your knowledge is fragmented, distorted. This will be difficult. We shall start from the top, so to speak. What is your name?”
“I’m… I’m not sure.” Chance replied, indecisive. “I, I think it’s Felix, Chance, but it could also be Matthew…”
“No, not Matthew any longer,” Pandora cut in. “He is dead. Or as good as. All that is left of him is his memories, living on up here.” She leaned over and tapped his head. “And maybe a thought, but rarely.”
“But… but, my life. None of it’s real…” he protested.
“In reality? No,” she agreed. “But what is reality, other than what we make of it? It is real to you, yes? As far as you are concerned are not those things that you believe happened, happened?” Chance nodded. “Then to you they are real. It doesn’t matter whether they did or not, but to you they did and they made you what you are today.”
“But that’s not true, is it? Matthew made me what I am.”
“Not exactly. He created a set of memories, but over this past year you have grown beyond that. You really have become your own man, Felix. In effect, you have grown beyond your programming.”
Chance squinted his eyes shut against the tears that threatened to flow again. He held his head in his hands. “It’s all so… so much. Nine hundred years…”
Pandora reached over and rubbed his back. “Yes. That is a considerable amount of time. And at the moment the shock is almost unbearable, I imagine. But it will pass. With time, it will pass.”
Snorting, Chance sat up again and shrugged off her arm, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. “Time. I guess that’s a lot I’ve got, huh? All thanks to you.” His voice turned sour.
“Felix… I understand what you must be feeling towards me,” Pandora said, holding her hand back as if it had been burnt. “All I can say is that if I had to go back and do it again, I would. Your were a fine warrior of good. A Champion. Still are, in fact. And as for today, if I had exorcised Dray’chen you would quite possibly be dead.”
Chance sagged again. “I know that… I…” He sighed. “Dray’chen. He’s a monster, inside of me…” He held his hands up to his face. Everything the demon had done, with his hands - these hands - it all ran through his mind. The pleasure he had felt as he tore people apart…
“You can put that to good use. Matthew knew how, and now you will be able to. You can harness his power to become faster, stronger, tougher. Not up to Dray’chen’s standard, but far more than you are currently.”
“I guess that’s why my sixth sense was dodgey, then? It wasn’t truly mine, just kinda borrowed.”
Pandora nodded. “Yes, it should work perfectly now. I imagine that know you know everything Matthew did, all your questions you will be able to answer yourself, now that I have answered the most important one.”
Chance paused in thought for several minutes before replying. “Not everything,” he said at length, almost too quiet to hear. Pandora leaned in. “I don’t know why he did it.”
“Did what?” she asked, unsure.
“Wipe his memory. Make… make me.” He looked her in the eye. “Why did he do it?”
The woman sighed and closed her mis-matched eyes. She had hoped he wouldn’t ask that, but she should have known he would. “To be honest, I don’t know myself. He approached me in the middle of the night, just over a year ago. He was in the same mess you were when you walked through that door. All that he would say is that he needed to change, to be somebody else. That he knew something that was too important and terrible to know to tell me, that it would put the world at risk. I told him how to do it but… but you don’t know? This is very interesting. It must mean creating a new personality was only the first line of defence, that the true spell that has hidden the knowledge was in turn hidden behind you, and still remains intact.”
“Does anybody else know?” Chance asked, although he feared he already knew the answer.
Pandora pursed her lips in thought. “Perhaps. There might be one person in all the world who knew besides Matthew.”
He closed his eyes. “The Vagabond.” Pandora didn’t feel she needed to confirm this. “Great. So now I’m stuck in the typical cliché; trying to find the meaning of life. Except for me. Bloody fantastic. And to add to this, there’s four ancient vampires in town, a turned Slayer, an army of super-vampires and a Dark Fae. Brilliant.” He looked up at her. “I don’t suppose you could stay around to give a hand?”
“No, I’m sorry but I can’t. Despite the Vagabond expecting his death and preparing for it, there are still things that I must attend to now he has passed.”
“Of course. That’s just typical isn’t it. Come along, do a little favour, and then off again.” Chance stood violently. “That’s all you ever do, Pandora. When will you get in on the action yourself? Make a direct change for once, rather than an indirect one.”
Pandora shook her head, not looking in his eye. “That’s not my way-"
“That’s not your way,” Chance scoffed. “One of these days, you’ll find it’s your way,” he turned and stalked to the door, “or the highway."
“Felix, wait-" she protested.
He stopped at the door and half-turned back. “No. You’ve ‘helped’ me as much as you can. I know that ‘cos I’m feeling a lot better. I’m actually going to go and do something useful. Namely, putting an end to the Brotherhood.” Chance looked away ahead again. “And it’s not Felix much more than it is Matthew any more. It’s Chance.”
With that he walked out, leaving Pandora sat all alone behind. “No,” she whispered to nobody in particular, but because it needed to be said aloud. “You’re wrong. Chance is Felix. It is Matthew who is no more." That last she added with sadness. Then she got up, closed the door behind her, and flagged down a taxi to take her to LAX.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Saturday, 28th Oct 2006
Oz cracked the top on the beer and sat back in his easy chair. He was watching the Bears totally decimate the Seashawks in the football game. *Too bad, I like the Seahawks,* he thought idly. He was thinking about ordering a pizza when Tolstoy opened his eyes and bounded to the door.
Oz watched with amusement. In the couple of weeks since Nikolai had left, the cat lived down here for some companionship. Alhough the best that Tolstoy had managed was a lazy yawn and a rollover to expose his belly for a rub. Now he was practically dancing at the door. "What's up, cat? Has Nikolai come to visit?"
Nikolai could not help feeling over these past few days that something had definitely changed. Something had been wrong ever since Sabarov tried to make the hit on him and killed the demon L'Than in the process. For those days he tried to hide, avoiding making plans. Now he had to do something to retaliate, which lead him back to his apartment building. *Let's hope that Ozimandius is serious about helping,* he thought, knocking at the door.
"Good afternoon, Oz," he said when the other opened it, "Mind if I come in to talk?"
Oz looked at the man he had barely met only a couple of weeks ago. He had changed quite a bit since that terrible night. He looked more human for one. The spikes seemed to be gone and his eyes had returned to a more normal brown, too.
He stepped aside to allow him to enter and Tolstoy led a grand procession of the three of them to the living area. Oz relinquished the easy chair to Nik who was hardly seated when Tolstoy leapt into his lap. He moved the hard chair around so that he could see the game still in progress.
"Want a beer, Nikolai? Tell me what's been going on? Or rather tell me what you want me to know about what's going on..." The last part was sort of under his breath. Oz stopped and cringed. He had not intended to say that last part out loud.
Nikolai smiled slightly, petting Tolstoy. It was amazing to see the Siamese acting less Imperial for once. He might as well fill Oz in on what had happened to him. "Sabarov tried to kill me," he said flatly, "L'Than, someone who tried to help me, got killed in the process."
"Was L'than close?" Oz immediately regretted the question, and judging from his strange expression Nikolai didn't know how to answer it anyway.
"Never mind," Oz backpedaled, "What about Ben? Are you any closer to finding him? Or Sabarov?"
Nikolai shook his head again. "Not a clue. I have someone looking into it as well, but haven't heard a thing at all. The man is one step ahead of me, and it's pissing me off!" Something in the back of his mind started speaking to him, to calm down, that anger was unnatural. "Has the lovely Ms. Grey come looking for me again, by any chance?"
Oz smiled; 'lovely' was not a word he'd have used to describe her. 'Dedicated', 'hard' and 'tough' were more like it. "No, she has not been here since I went to see her. She asked me if I thought you would try to go after the murderers. I told her I didn't know you well enough, but that I would let her know if you started doing anything suspicious."
A cheer from the televison set made Oz glance at the game. The Seahawks had scored a touchdown. One of several in the fourth quarter. It seemed that they were fighting back. "Go Seahawks!" Oz murmered at the set.
He turned back to Nick, "Sorry, it's just that the Bears have been trampling them the entire game. It's time someone kicked them back some."
"Well, you'll have to pardon me if I root for the Bears," Nikolai replied, turning his attention to the screen for a few mintues. Oz really was going through with his part of the deal, and this told him something that he needed to know. Though there was something else he was curious about. "Oz, you said something before about experience with 'otherworldly' things. What did you mean by that?" He didn't know what compelled him to ask the question, aside from some burning curiosity over what exactly L'Than could have been trying to do.
It had been more than forty years since he had trusted another human being with his secret. The knowledge of what Oz was - had been - was something that carried with it the answers to a lot of other things as well. It was terrible knowledge that had necessitated the creation of beings like Brinkley and Ra to eliminate it. Oz's wife had known and she had died knowing the secret. Zoë had found out by accident but she had died before she could tell anyone. Ben knew and Oz hoped it gave him a measure of comfort to know that somewhere someone was praying for him – wherever he was.
Oz looked into Nikolai's eyes a long time. Nik would die, too, to defend Oz's secret, he decided. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise, you cannot tell anyone else. Ever. This is the kind of knowledge that can both change people's lives and can ruin them. But you and I are past ruin aren't we? I was an angel, Kolya. A messenger from God."
Nikolai raised his eyebrow at the last. God. He couldn't bring himself to believe in that particular myth. Having seen what he had in the world, he could not believe that an all-good, omnipotent and omniscient being would allow the world to exist like this.
"Perhaps you can help me, then," he said aloud. "Have you ever heard of a group of demons called the Xangyarj?"
Oz frowned, "I delivered messages from God to the people of this world. I fought demons at the Fall and I slew many who were trying to bar my way to God's people. The Xangyarj are peaceful creatures who seek no harm to anyone. I would not want to hurt one of them at all."
Oz stood and retrieved another beer, "The Xangyarj were worshipped in China by the locals as 'healing spirits' which is where they thrived for centuries. It was only after the Communists came that they started to seek other places outside their homelands in China."
Oz sat back down and sipped at his beer, "Why do you want to know about them?"
Tolstoy meowed, reaching up with his paw to bat Nikolai's hand as he had slowed down with the petting. Once he gave the Czar his due, he continued. "L'Than was one of them, said something about helping her survive. Seems to have failed, though, she just reached up to touch the side of my face before passing away."
"And you need me to help you bury the body?" Oz asked.
"That's already been taken care of. I need to know what she meant, if there was anything she could do that I missed."
Oz shrugged, "I wish I did know. I saw a lot of things but - like a delivery driver - I never had much chance to stop to get to know those things along the way. I can start looking but really there isn't anything I can tell you about them that could help. I pretty much relayed what I know."
Nikolai seemed to be agitated, as if he half expected Oz to know everything to his question. Oz knew that of all the messages he delivered, almost none of them were easy answers. "You look like you have not slept in a while. Need a place to crash? The bed is through there."
"Thanks, but I probably should be staying on the move. No need to get another civilian killed," he added. What they needed was room to operate. And that meant keeping the police off his back. "But I will need something else from you. An alibi... I may have a line on someone who knows where to find Sabarov. When it's time to pick her up, I may need to throw the cops off my trail. Especially if Grey continues to be curious about me."
"Just let me know where and when you were and I will be sure to let it get to Grey. I feel like I am back to my old job again," Oz smiled.
"Don't worry, you'll know," he replied, wondering if this was a wise move. An 'angel of God' hardly struck him as the most likely being to be an accessory to a killing, let alone a kidnapping. "I think it's time to get the police off our backs. What did Grey say to you when you saw her? I need to know everything."
***** Flashback
Oct 13th 2pm - Los Angeles County Police Headquarters
Guest starring Melissa Leo as Det. Rachel Grey
Oz felt stupid visiting Det. Grey here in her office, but this is where she said they had to meet. He had toyed with the idea of bringing a gift of some sort, something to butter her up with, but the fact is he had no idea what to take. He was forty years out of touch with social graces between men and women. In the end he settled for his best shirt and pants combo.
She was at her desk writing something on a pad. Her red hair was wild and she kept having to put it behind her ear to hold it, but it continued to escape.
Oz stood there towering over her desk but she let him stand there uncomfortably. She pointed at a hard wooden chair for him to sit in next to her desk, but still did not meet his eyes for long minutes while she continued to draw lines and write notes on her pad from a dozen different folders on her desk.
Finally she set aside the folders and notes and looked into Oz's eyes, "What the fuck kind of stupid woman do you think I am?"
Oz blinked. He wasn't sure how to respond to this. It wasn't anything like she expected. "I... uh... what?" he sputtered.
“You came down here in your pressed Dockers driving a Carmine Ghia and wearing polished shoes. You have your hands in your pockets because you are nervous and you are drenched in aftershave. You are either here to lie to me or ask me on a date. Judging from your supermodel hair, swarthy good looks compared to my stunning face I'd say one of us is gonna get lied to. So I ask you again, what kind of stupid woman do you think I am?"
Oz felt more idiotic than usual. Here he was trying to help someone and he was already making a fool out of himself, "I'm sorry Det. Grey, I'm not used to this sort of thing. I have never been involved in anything in my life and now I find a horribly mutilated and murdered body, my neighbor's boy is missing, and I have another neighbor who is so upset, I am worried that he may try something rash."
*Nailed it. Equal parts pathos and concern,* thought Oz as he continued to hold her eyes with his. He saw something inside her melt a little. He thought he could see a trace of concern in that hard line of hers.
She leaned back in her chair and relaxed some, "Well, tell me what you have and then we can see about finding if you need to see someone. What have you got?"
Rachel Grey pulled out one of the dozen yellow note-pads she kept in her drawer. They were as hard to find as hens' teeth because the department wanted everything done on the computer. She could just write faster on a pad than she could in the box. And since she occasionally had reason to pass info to the Feds she knew how insecure everything was. She stuck to paper. She wrote down Oz's name and made a note to run a background check on him.
He told her everything he had said the night before. She pressed him more about the events with Nikolai afterwards. Oz told her that he was very upset and had suggested that Nikolai get out of the building a few days. He had said Nikolai was staying in a hotel but he did not know which one. Oz said he was watching Nikolai's cat and had a key.
Rachel Grey made bullet points on the paper. And on the last two she made the little (L) mark she used to flag obvious lies. Nikolai wasn't staying in a hotel, he was underground looking for revenge. She had seen it in Nik's posture and she could hear it in his voice when she was in his apartment. This big hunk might believe what he was spouting to her but he was her best suspect so far.
She had a 911 call log in her investigation file describing a "gout of flame" from a balcony in that building just the day before the murder. Too much of a coincidence. There was also a report of this guy following Ms. Taylor to her work. A stalker? Hardly seemed likely.
It all added up to something and Rachel Grey couldn't make it come out right. She had added two and two and kept getting five. She was tempted to bury this case like she had so many others, but she kept coming back to Oz. He was so incredibly out of place. It was if he had fallen from the sky into the middle of this whole mess.
"Did you find anything at the crime scene, Mr. DeAngelo, that could help us find the perpetrator?"
"Call me Oz."
She looked at his dark attractive eyes and felt her heart beat a little faster. This part of working in LA never stopped making her blush. All the beautiful people everywhere. She wasn't a beautiful person, and didn't feel beautiful at all. She was a professional, however, despite the ocassonal flush of womanly vanity, "Oz, then. Did you find anything?"
Oz denied her for the third time and accepted a card for a psychiatrist who worked with the police department helping survivers. He promised to make an appointment before leaving the desk.
As he left the office one of the uniformed female officers slipped up behind her and whispered in her ear, "Whoo, would you like to arrest him and do a body search or what?"
Rachel just whispered back, "Nah, after all the lies he told me it would be too much like my ex-boyfriend's idea of a date."
*** Return to the present...
Nikolai leaned back as he considered the story, Tolstoy beginning to snore quite loudly. How such a small animal could produce that level of noise was still beyond him. The thought occured to him that the police probably suspected Oz. "But you know he didn't do it," a voice sounded in his head. "You have to do something to protect him." For some reason, he found himself agreeing with the voice.
"Well, this should be fun," he said, moving Tolstoy's quietly sleeping form to the arm of the chair. "Thank you, Oz. I think it's time to throw the police off the trail some." He hated it. No other job had ever brought him this close to the cops; it was kill and move on. *Why does life have to be so difficult?*
"How do you plan on doing that?"
"I'm working on it," was all Nikolai said before thanking Oz again and heading out of the apartment.
The television erupted in sound as the door clicked shut. Oz looked and in the final seconds of the game the Bears had pulled it out, managed to steal back the lead in the game and won by only two points.
*Shit,* Oz thought, *I missed the best part of the game.*
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Tuesday 24th October
10:00 pm
Alessa walked around her living room, clenching her hands. Her face showed the strain and worries of the last days, but there was a light of hope in her green eyes too. Pandora had told them that the spell had worked, and so had said Cole after recovering from it. She looked at the teen; he was curled on her sofa, asleep again. He was pale and looked tired too. She paused her ramblings to push a lock from his forehead; he had been so brave tonight...
A knock on the door startled her and woke the kid. They looked at each other with anticipation, and without a word Alessa went to open the door.
Chance ascended the stairs and walked slowly down the corridor to Alessa’s apartment. He knew exactly where it was, could walk there with his eyes closed, had looked forward time and again to walking this way, and yet feared doing so now.
He paused outside the right door but didn’t raise his hand to knock. Instead he breathed a deep sigh. This had to be done, she was the only link he had to whatever campaign was being planned against the Brotherhood, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be any less hard.
Finally, Chance knocked. When Alessa opened the door and he looked into her face, looked into those eyes that carried all that love and worry and care, all he wanted to do was tell the world to go swivel on it, and fall into her arms. But he couldn’t do that. Not after what Dray’chen, what he did to her. Not until he cleaned up the mess he helped create.
She held out her arms to him and took a step forwards to embrace him, but Chance backed off. He kept his face a mask despite the strain he was under to break down.
“If we want to stop the Brotherhood, there isn’t much more time. They won’t be together for much longer.”
Alessa stepped back as if he had slapped her. Blinking she peered into his eyes and couldn’t find Chance in there, but neither there was any trace of Dray’chen in them. Dropping her arms, she stepped aside and let him enter the room. Then she doubted a moment; she didn’t know whether she wanted to follow him or not. She didn’t want to hear that matter-of-fact tone again. Breathing deeply, she collected herself. *Time, I have to give him time,* she thought and closed the door.
Chance went and stood in the middle of the apartment, nodding in acknowledgement at Cole as the kid watched him with something of awe mixed with fear, and refused to sit. This wouldn’t take long, he would be sure. The look on Alessa’s face had torn his heart apart but… *It has to be this way. At least until I can make amends.* This produced a grim laughter in his head. He sounded like some soul-searching big girl’s blouse, for crying out loud. But it really wasn’t that funny.
Turning back to face her, he stared at a spot two inches above her head whilst talking. “I meant what I said. Krispin mentioned something to Dray’chen about a ‘Phase Two’. They’ll have finished in LA soon, and then they’ll split up and we won’t be able to find them. I know you have the flower; we have to act soon.”
Alessa shared a look with Cole before turning back to Chance. With her eyes she searched his, but he wouldn’t look at her. Finally she spoke. “The flower will be ready in a week, we will do the ritual then.”
He nodded, still avoiding her eyes. He seemed to be deep in thought. “That’s ok, I don’t think they will be moving before then,” he said, and doubted before adding, “I'll come around on the 31st, then.”
“You won't be staying?” she asked with a broken voice. Her hand moved with a will of its own to grab his. Chance moved away again, just shaking his head.
“I… I can’t,” he said, and lowered his eyes. Then he finally looked at her and Alessa had to brace herself against the pain and anguish in his eyes. “I’ll be at my place.” He paused, as if to say something else, but stopped. With a forced smile to her and a nod to Cole he opened the door and went away, as suddenly as he had come.
Alessa closed the door behind Chance and leaned onto it. She couldn’t turn and face Cole; if she looked at him she would burst into tears.
“Alessa,” Cole said quietly, taking a step towards the devastated woman, and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He’s breaking up inside worse than you are. He blames himself for what Dray’chen did.”
Cole took a deep breath, trying to steady himself so he could be strong for her. “We just have to be there for him now, and hopefully, with time, he’ll come back around.”
Alessa finally turned around to face the young teen. Her heart longed to believe what he said, to grasp the sliver of hope.
“I’m kinda psychic now, remember? I can’t be wrong,” Cole joked, with a half smile.
She forced herself to smile back. What Cole said was true, she could understand what Chance was going through and she was more than willing to be there for him.
“Yes, I know,” she answered, “but it isn’t less difficult all the same.” She looked at the door again. “I just hope he allows us to help him.”
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
31 October 2006
Nikolai’s head was pounding from the hangover he was suffering. This was, quite simply, the first time he had ever set out with the express purpose of drinking himself completely shit-faced in order to construct a cover story. Or spent so much money to pour so much booze down the drain. It was a shame, but if they searched the hotel room they had to believe he had been on a bender. “I’m working on it,” he had told Oz.
If only Oz could see him now, sitting in the station and waiting for Detective Grey to show up to interview him. Drinking lots and lots of water that they were being nice enough to provide. “Good morning, detective,” he mumbled, when she sat down at the desk at last. “May I ask why it’s a crime to pass out in my car drunk now?” Which had been exactly how he wanted them to find him.
Detective Grey eyed the Russian suspiciously as she tossed a few folders on to the desk before leaning against it in a relaxed manner. "Drinking and driving is a serious crime in this city Mr Makarov," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "You should see the coroners' reports that fall on my desk. The pictures would turn even your hardened stomach, I'd wager."
She picked up the pitcher of water that sat on the table and slowly poured out a tall glassfull and slid it across the desk to Nikolai. "Drink up. I don't want you throwing up again, do I?"
“I was not driving,” he protested weakly, knowing damn right well that he had. “I was passing out!” Still he accepted the water gratefully and drank up as she suggested. All he had to do was play this naturally: be depressed, angry, and co-operative but not too co-operative.
“Is that why you brought me in here?” Nikolai asked, “Because I got a bit drunk?”
"A bit?" Rachel chuckled to herself slightly, "From the smell of you Mr Makarov, I'd say 'a little drunk' was putting it very mildly, don't you?" Rachel recoiled because what she had said was true, Nikolai well and truely stunk of stale alchohol and vomit, it was truely a disgrace that human beings let themselves get into such a rancid state.
"But no, that's not the only reason I asked for you to be brought in. I had a very interesting 'chat' with your neighbour, Mr DeAngelo. I don't suppose you know why he felt the need to come pay me a visit, do you?"
“He came to visit you?” Nikolai asked in surprised. She was buying the act, hopefully. Now all that was need was to drive it home. “Why would I? All I know is that he came by my place, said it might be good to stay somewhere else a few days. Too many memories.”
"You know what I think?" asked Grey, a flash of irritation in her eyes, "I think you and Mr DeAngelo are taking me for a fool, I think the two of you are conspiring to pevert the course of justice in the attempt to conceal a crime! Do you know what the penalty is for that, Mr Makarov?"
Nikolai put an offended look on his face, trying to stand up – but then sitting down as the hangover overtook him, groaning as his head swam. “My girlfriend was murdered, her stepson is missing, and you think I’m trying to cover it up? You think I don’t want the guy found?”
“On the contrary," said Detective Grey, leaning forward and then immediately regretting it as the vile stench from the drunk assailed her nostrils. "I think you want to catch this guy on your own and will do anything to make sure you find him first, even if that means impeding a police investigation."
Grey tucked a stray hair behind her ear and sat back, glad to have some distance so that she could breathe again. "I understand your frustration Mr Makarov. Believe me, I don't like this scum any more than you do but it is not your place to take the law into your own hands. I don't like vigilante behaviour, Mr Makarov. If I find out that you've been hoodwinking me I won't hesitate to throw the book at you."
Cops, he thought. Cockier than god, all of them. *If I'd have been just a little dumber, I could have joined the force, too!* Still, he could certainly get away with the justified anger route. "Goddamnit! I work for a VET! You know, the people who make sick animals feel better. If I found whoever did it, I doubt I could do anything." Not that the police would ever find anything on him, even having their power didn't make you omniscient.
Grey just rose to her feet and took a step back; she could always tell when people were bullshitting her and this guy was doing a prime job though perhaps others without her training wouldn't be able to tell. She had no proof of course, just a gut instinct, but it was that instinct that had kept her alive for so long.
Working for Majestic meant you always had to have your ear to the ground and she'd heard plenty about a couple of guys stirring up some trouble with a couple of local gangs looking for some Russian hitman. Grey would bet her bottom dollar she was looking at prime suspect number one right now. if only she could get some damn evidence to back it up.
"We're doing our best to find Ms. Taylor's killer and locate her son. I won't quit until we've put this one to bed, so you don't have to worry about it do you? And you can lay off the heavy drinking too, all right?"
Nikolai slowly shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "I will try to cut back some - so much for that famed ability to drink. But you have to find Ben. He, he could be dead or worse..." Nikolai wasn't entirely acting when he started shaking again, although he was not quite so bad as he used to be. Not with something in his mind trying to offer him some measure of comfort.
Detective Grey felt a twinge of sympathy for the man, but it was only for a moment and she deftly brushed her emotions aside. Contrary to popular belief, the police force didn't sit on its ass all day eating donuts and drinking coffee. She'd seen it with her own two eyes how fucking hard they worked and she'd be damned, cover or no cover, if she let this punk Russian throw a wrench in the works.
"Like I said, we're doing everything we can to find Ms. Taylor's son. You just have to keep out of my way, Mr. Makarov. Let me and the rest of this precinct do its job."
Nikolai nodded his head several times before nervously taking a sip of water. They had to do something, he felt so helpless, he seemed to be saying. "Da. Da. I will do that. Is that all, detective?"
"Your car has been impounded, Mr Makarov. It was blocking a public access road, but I suggest you take a cab home unless you want to be arrested again."
"And what is the fine so that I can get my car back?" He was glad that he'd had the foresight to make sure that nothing illegal was in it. Especially the sniper rifle. That would have raised a few eyebrows, and he was sure that they would be searching it quite thoroughly.
Grey opened the door to the interview room, gesturing for him to leave, "You'll have to sort that out at the lot, if you don't mind? I am quite busy."
Nikolai nodded before stumbling out the door. It would take him a few days before he could get the car back, and a few well placed bribes revealed that earlier bribes to the motel owner about his whereabouts had been a good idea. At the end of the day the evidence confirmed Oz’s story about what he was doing.
And, thought Nikolai, the car looked in surprisingly good position when it came out of impound.
With thanks to Louisa writting the part of Rachel Grey.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
October 25th
late morning
Alessa massaged the soap with numb fingers and the lather spilled over her hands as she washed the horrible night off her skin. She wanted the blistering hot water to warm the coldness of her heart. She stood under the sputtering spray until the water turned cold. *Like him,* she thought. She turned the shower off and walked to her bedroom. A soft knock on the door startled her, and then she remembered her conversation with Kate.
She had called the witch last night, after Cole left, to tell her about Dray'chen's successful rebinding. She had heard the relief in Kate's voice, and after more than a week of Dray'chen's exploits she could understand her. Then they had talked about the flower and the impending ritual. Kate had asked her if she could send the magician who was going to perform the ritual to her. "Sorrow" was his name.
Alessa clothed quickly and hurried to the door. The peeping hole showed her a tall dark haired man who fit the description Kate had given her. She opened the door and inspected the man outside. He looked rugged and battered but he exuded power. When she looked into his eyes she could recognize the pain that they betrayed; she had seen such in the mirror during the last ten days. But just then she realized that, no matter last night's events, today her eyes had shown faith and not pain.
She smiled brightly to the magician, perhaps a little too brightly if his expression was telling. Alessa offered him a coffee and then they concentrated on the intricacies of the ritual, discussing what she had learnt in Paraguay and the Guaraní and Latin versions of the ritual. They spent hours talking and before going Sorrow examined the Flor de la Virgen and helped her change the water that was keeping it alive. Alessa could see the effect of the flower's magic in his countenance, erasing the pain lines in his handsome face.
By the time Sorrow was gone, Alessa was feeling more light-hearted. Whatever was wrong with Chance she would find a way to help him solve it.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Saturday, 28 October 2006 - 1am
Lights swirled to the sounds of John Digweed. Repetitive, pulsing beats. Air pungent with cigarette smoke. Bodies forming a tangled, throbbing mass on dance floor. The entire club had an atmosphere that reeked of decadence and sin, darkness and temptation, escapism and fantasy.
E D E N
The name glowed a fiery red against the onyx wall of the entrance.
Jade paid little heed to the crowds below her, seemingly oblivious to the many glances cast her way as she made her way back up to the second floor. In a place where there seemed to be an unspoken dress code of black, Jade had deliberately chosen to wear a topaz and aquamarine halter top that slithered along her lithe body, ending several inches above her matching, blue, low-slung pants. Her eyes and lips had been painted to match her outfit's vivid colouring, her hair teased into a riot of curls that framed her porcelain face.
"Ahhhh, ma cher..." The dulcet voice of the club's owner, Maurice, carried over the music as he stood and ushered Jade into his private booth. She smiled at him coyly, accepting the proffered flute of pink champagne as she leaned back against the sumptuous seats. The murmurs from the people on the dance floor increased. The Frenchman was notoriously well known for his bigotry. In fact, despite constantly coming under fire by racial-equality groups, Maurice took blatant pride in EDEN's 'No-Entry-to-Asians' policy since he started the club some 18 months ago. Yet now...
Jade knew the stir she was causing, just like she knew about Maurice and his racial prejudices. It was for that very reason she had chosen him as a target. Her previous 'experiments' of holding people in her thrall had been successful enough but they had always been done in the safety of the Hyperion. She had wanted to try something in public, with a more challenging subject... Maurice had been the perfect choice.
Tilting her head to look up at the tall Frenchman coquettishly, Jade fingered the slender pendant hanging around her neck. She shivered slightly. Of all the powers the statue of Mana had given her, she found this one to be the most intoxicating, especially when she found out that it enabled her to hold her victim in thrall even as she fed, making the process almost pleasurable.
*Tonight.* Jade's eyes gleamed as she playfully trailed a crimson fingernail down Maurice's neck, over the enticing pulse point at the base of his throat. Since the night she had drunk from the fae, Jade had held her thirst in check. She fed, but not as copiously as she had with Darian, preferring to leave her marks in a semi-swooning state instead of bleeding them near to death. Valerian approved of her self-discipline and restraint, although he warned her that the speed at which her powers increased was directly proportional to the amount of blood she consumed each night.
If he were correct, Jade thought, then she would be greatly empowered before the sun rose. Tonight she would feast to her heart's content, starting with Maurice before working her way through the patrons of his precious little club. Jade took in all the eager, available flesh being paraded and smirked. Just a 'sip' from everyone present would be more than enough.
The dim lighting within Maurice's private booth made disguising her intent easy. Jade caught the Frenchman's gaze with her own, feeling a warm, heady rush as his eyes glazed over even further, feeling his will meld into her own. She brushed her lips against his... once... twice... then finally gave in and sank her fangs into the softness of his throat, drinking deeply, her eyes fluttering close in sheer ecstasy...
**********
Saturday, 28 October 2006 - 4.30am
She felt as if she was floating. *No, not floating... Flying...* Jade laughed as she spread her arms out and spun around, revelling in the power she felt coursing through her, oblivious to the dazed crowd milling around EDEN's entrance.
Every part of her was tingling as she made her way back to the Hyperion. The streets were quiet and deceptively peaceful, as they had been in recent weeks, but Jade sensed the other's presence almost immediately. She paused, her face showing nothing but disdain as she stared straight ahead. "You might as well just tell me what you want Sam, instead of skulking around behind me like an alley cat."
The vampiress stumbled out from the shadows, her complexion a sickly grey. One couldn't help but notice the blood red manicure as Sam clasped her own throat, the dark crimson standing out in sharp contrast against the pasty skin.
“My my..." Jade's voice dripped honey. "You don't look so good darling. Had a little... too much to drink?" She made no move to help the choking vampiress. "Now, now, you really shouldn't overindulge if you can't handle it."
"B-bitch. F-fucking bit..." Sam's strangled words were abruptly cut off as she fell onto all fours, gagging and retching. Shuddering as she tried to stand upright, Sam rasped, "You... poisoned him. Knew I... him... and you... poison..."
Jade let out a tinkling laugh. "Oh, you mean Maurice? Tsk, tsk..."
Sam gave up her attempts to stand, despite the subordinate posture that left her in. Her limbs simply wouldn't support her. Even on all fours she found solace in leaning against the wall.
Her words came in gasps, "But... what about your..." A choking fit interrupted her and left her gasping even more, "... your vaun... vaunted ideals? You... you killed hi..." The next coughing fit caused Sam to collapse to the ground, but her hate-filled eyes never left Jade's.
"No darling, I didn't. You did that. All by your lonesome. By draining him of every last drop of blood he had." Jade's face was serene, almost ethereal in the moonlight but her dark eyes flashed with controlled temper. "Since I had no way of stopping you from playing your little game back in EDEN without causing even more bloodshed, I slipped Maurice a little 'present' before I left the club."
The stomach cramps were becoming almost unbearable and Sam crouched even lower, her body almost pressed to the ground now. Spittle flew from her lips as she asked, "Wha... wassit... wha poison?"
"Just a little powdered Deathcap... Amazing how a tiny mushroom can do so much damage, isn't it? Nicholas won't even notice it's gone." In one fluid movement, Jade bent down and backhanded Sam across the face, sending the vampiress sprawling across the grass. "Pity the poison won't kill you, although I'm certain the meaning behind my little lesson is clear." The imperiousness of her voice would have done Valerian proud. "Stay away from me and mine, Samantha... You'll do well to remember that I'm no longer the Jade you once snacked on.”
Sam was no longer in a position to reply, as the convulsions grew stronger, sending waves of agony through her body. But though her eyes closed the vindictiveness never left them. *Just you wait Miss Fucking High and Mighty. You'll see...*
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Tuesday, 31st October 2006 – 12:30pm
From outside, Bibliophile looked quiet. The closed sign hung slightly crooked on the front door and the interior was darkened, though sunlight slitted in through the drawn blinds. Inside was also subdued, despite the Halloween decorations that festooned the shop. A small group sat or stood at various locations around Bibliophile, all lost in their own dark thoughts.
Daye was out the back with Sorrow, checking on the ritual ingredients, Reah had rung to say she was on her way, and introductions had been made among the rest. So Kate and Galen sat together at a table, Kate glaring at Damen who had lit up despite her and Daye's protests. Tash stood near the doorway, a little leery about the people Alessa had brought with her. Cole and Vincent were just kids, and Chance seemed ok enough, but the one she'd introduced as Darlome had a disturbing aura. Jess paced back and forth, no doubt thoughts of Ellie running through her mind, and of what she had to do. Nearby, Alicia Wyldling watched them all warily. The older woman was an unknown element, but Daye insisted she be included.
Tash sighed. She'd hoped Darian might show up, but all her messages were still unanswered and she feared the worst. "Stupid. I was stupid to leave him alone like that,” she muttered.
A simple black car rolled up to stop outside of Bibliophile, the M’Fashnik driver waiting patiently for the signal from his two passengers. It was an awful risk for the two sitting in the car, collectively representing two-fifths of the total power of the leadership of a secret society.
“Certain wise this is, you are?” asked one of the two figures, in her ornate gold and white robes.
“I’ve no intention of letting the Brotherhood destroy everything the Order has worked for,” replied the orange demon smoothly.
The pair exited the car, walking towards the entrance of Bibliophile. He’d been watching the group of ‘white hats’ ever since the Cloch Cosan event. They’d obviously been planning some sort of move against the Brotherhood, and this gathering was too good an opportunity to pass up. With luck, they would oppose the Brotherhood as well.
Zentara chanted lowly, a simple protection spell. Alaric caught sight of one of the group standing watch at the doorway. Who was she again? He couldn’t recall, though hoped to pick up that detail later. Zentara’s chant altered for a moment, long enough to work the controls, opening the door slightly. “Might we come in?” Alaric asked politely. “We’ve come to volunteer our services against the Brotherhood.”
Tash stared in disbelief. She'd never actually met either of these two, but she'd seen a photo of them, when Galen had been searching for Talhu. She couldn't recall the name of the vulture-like demon, but the orange one she remembered as the leader of the Order of Valour.
"Alaric," she breathed, "What on Earth makes you think we'd ever trust you?" She turned her head briefly, catching Kate and Galen's eye. "We have guests," she said simply.
Galen was already on his feet as he noticed the demonic form of Alaric - codename 'Tango' – push past Tash and into the shop. His hand instinctively moved to the inside of his jacket and rested on his gun. After all this time tracking Alaric he still didn't know if the demon was vulnerable to such weapons but he'd give it a damn good try.
Without even thinking about their actions, Vincent and Darlome had picked up their P90's and aimed them at the newcomers to the Bibliophile.
Alaric smiled at the fact that there were now a fairly decent number of guns all aimed in his direction. Zentara continued her low chanting, enough to stop at least the first few rounds. "Such a warm reception – and Mr. Eldridge, such a pleasure to see you again. Do accept my apologies for before. But we have more pressing matters," he said, his voice raised.
Narrowing his eyes, Galen calmly walked over to where Tash stood, "Believe me Alaric, these 'pressing matters' are the only reason you're not dead right about now." Galen still wasn't certain what part Alaric had played in the events of last year with Serapis and Janus; maybe he would never know, but despite the fact that Alaric had 'helped' him escape that night he still wasn't about to trust him now.
Alessa watched the new arrivals with interest, a little amused by the reactions of every male in the room. And they weren’t the only ones; she had had to put a hand on Chance's arm to prevent him from aiming his shotgun too. The demons didn’t seem apprehensive, though. The golden one, Alaric, looked relaxed and sure of himself.
Alaric carefully observed the room, able to understand Galen's anger. He probably would be fighting for his life at the moment if the man knew the full extent of his involvement in those events. *Humans and their guns. When will they learn?* "I realise you all have no reason to trust me," he said. "In fact, in your position, I probably wouldn't either. But do consider that if you oppose the Brotherhood you will need help. Zentara is one of the stronger magicians you will meet, and I... well, I'm not as young as I used to be, but I can still hold my own against a few vampires."
Zentara finished her chanting, the spell completed. She could sense that there would be no violence and if there was... well, she still had time. Her head cocked to the side slightly. "A great mistake, our Order has made. Set it right we must."
Kate rose to stand beside her husband. Alaric had been in collaboration with Serapis – that much she knew for certain. But at that specific moment she was more interested in the incantation his companion had been muttering as she arrived. Kate thought she recognised some of the words but couldn’t be sure. *A protection spell?* she thought to herself in speculation.
Tash's eyes narrowed. The demons’ auras confirmed what they said. They wanted to help, and felt... Not guilt – the emotion she picked up was more like a sense of responsibility. And the abilities of these two would help greatly. "Mistake?" she queried. "What did you do, exactly? And how do we know if we let you help us now that you won't turn around and kill us all when it's done?" Tash refrained from drawing her own gun, but her hand hovered close to her shoulder holster.
Zentara looked to Alaric, who stood there in silent contemplation for a full minute. He nodded once, nearly imperceptibly. "A Slayer we found, our own Living Dead to protect. Undone must the ritual be."
Darlome looked into the eyes of his young partner and instantly knew what he was thinking. "Skip…"
Darlome broke in before Vincent could finish his sentence, "Yeah, Yoda."
Alaric spoke up, before they got too confused by Zentara. Her speech could be taxing until you got used to it. "Our worldviews – the Brotherhood's and the Order's – are incompatible. And I give you my word that we will not attempt to kill you once the battle is completed."
All heads turned at a sudden loud hissing noise. Jess flew across the room breathing harshly through her teeth, and her fist barrelled towards Alaric. "You killed her! You bastards!" she screamed, then her fist bounced back mere centimetres from Alaric's face.
The orange demon stood unflinching, trusting Zentara's spell, and smiled sadly at Jess. "Again, my deepest apologies," said Alaric. "But now... now it is our time to make things right. The Order does not betray its own."
Tash laid a hand gently on Jess' arm before turning a baleful eye on Alaric. "Fine. I sense the truth of your words. But once this is over..." she looked at Jess, who was holding back tears, and let the sentence hang.
The room’s atmosphere could be cut with a knife, thought Alessa while she surveyed the people around her. She didn’t know what the story with these demons was but they were offering their help. She looked to Jess who seemed to be hardly controlling herself. She knew by experience how close the link between Watcher and Slayer could be; she just hoped the woman let her anger subside to allow them to correct their deeds.
Trigger sucked down his cigarette all the way to the filter. "So let me get this straight," he started, having been filled in earlier by Reah – when she’d invited him to this shindig – on what was going on. "Basically, you're the assholes who arranged for the Brotherhood to find the Slayer, and work their mojo on her, leaving us to fight a bunch of suped-up Elder vampires? Not to mention however many young vampires that will be fighting like they just aged a couple centuries overnight?"
Alaric sighed. "You can try to kill me afterwards. Single combat, if you think you have the honour to handle it."
Tash let Kate take Jess away from Alaric a little, the redhead wrapping an arm about the distraught Watcher. Kate herself looked a little shaken at the turn of events. Without a word to anyone Alicia joined the other two women, also wrapping an arm around Jess. She spoke quietly to the other Watcher, seeming to have some calming effect.
The hunter turned her attention back to Alaric. "None of us are happy about this, but we have to admit that right now we could use all the help we can get. I don't think," Tash raised her voice, to encompass everyone in the room, "that any of us can really look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm convinced of your sincerity, but believe me when I say that neither will we forget your part in bringing this about in the first place."
She reluctantly held out a hand, "Welcome to the team.”
Zentara's eyes blinked as she silently watched what followed. Alaric extended his hand, and rather than taking her hand, instead grabbed the inside of her forearm. Among his people it was a sign. And then he completed the ritual. "May our blades seek to act as one," he said.
It did not show, but Zentara was amused at the archaic form Alaric very rarely used, words spoken by one who completed the forging of an alliance. Still, she was worried at Tash's words. *The Order understand she does not,* thought the demon. *Conflict we will have, but today we will not.*
Sorrow stepped into the room and everybody blinked. Power rolled off him in waves. As one faded it was replaced by another, each weaker than the last yet also more complex. They hinted at hidden harmonies. The power seemed to die and then the whole sequence began again, like a fractal pattern layering complexity upon complexity.
“I’m ready.”
Tash threw him a tight smile and nodded. She turned to face everyone and went over their plan in order to get Alaric and Zentara up to speed. “Right,” she finished, “so everyone’s clear on what they’re doing? We have me, Jess, Alicia, Galen, Reah, Damen, Alessa, Chance, Vincent and Alaric for purely physical combat. And Kate, Daye, Cole, Darlome and Zentara for the magical offensive. Sorrow will be primarily concerned with finishing the ritual spell, so the job for the rest of us is to lure the Elders out and protect Sorrow.”
There was an array of nods and murmurs of assent, and Tash nodded once, satisfied. She glanced towards the doorway. “Now we just have to wait for Reah. She said she was bringing some presents for us.”
A group of eyes quizzically turned in the direction of Zentara, her beak hanging open in silent laughter. "Apologies much." Still she continued to laugh. "A thought. Happy Samhain the Brotherhood will have!"
*****
Reah didn’t hesitate in admitting herself as she knocked to announce her arrival to those gathered inside. Her eyes scanned about and located Kate, then she advanced a few steps into the room, pausing for a moment with her keys half drawn as she pulled up alongside Zentara, “Um… moisturiser, dear.”
She turned her attention back to the matter at hand. “Kate! Is there space for me to park my vehicle out back?” Reah asked, the amusement in her broad grin palpable, “I’d rather not do a showcase in the middle of the street.”
Kate nodded at Reah, glad to have an opportunity to break up some of the tension in the room. "We'll find somewhere," she mumbled as she pushed past Zentara to get to Reah, giving Galen a harried glance that told him to be wary before gesturing for the girl to follow her. Tash followed as Kate showed Reah the broad section of alleyway where Bibliophile's food deliveries were made, then waited with Kate at the rear entrance. Tash was curious to see if Reah had managed to find some of the specialty items she'd requested.
While Reah disappeared to fetch her ‘vehicle’, Kate threw a watchful eye over the blonde girl. Something seemed odd about her since the last time they'd met, though that had been over a year now when battling the Evil Entity at Poplar Avenue. Still, there was something odd that Kate couldn't quite put her finger on. Whatever it was sent a chill down her spine. She leaned in close to Tash, careful to keep her voice low. "Did something happen to her? I mean, apart from the obvious inter-dimensional portal hopping saga that is."
Tash glanced at where Reah had just vanished around the corner, then looked back at Kate, sadness showing in her eyes. "Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that. A friend of ours who was with us on G'rnatha… he‘s dead now. Human causes. Reah's... Well, let's just say that she's been spending a bit of time with Damen in there lately."
Trigger was shortly passing through the back, the winged figure of Zentara creeping along behind him to watch in curiosity at the group. "And having absolutely no luck at all in that area, either," Trigger added, overhearing the exchange. "It's just a matter of time now, though. We have a good lead, so should be able to whack the son of a bitch who did it soon."
Tash shot Damen an unreadable look, then turned back to Kate and added, "You see what I mean?"
Kate avoided looking at the man; she knew only too well what kind of person Damen Kirk was and she didn't envy Reah if she'd been spending ANY amount of time in his less than sparkling company. With a roll of her eyes Kate turned her attention back to Tash. "And they say there are no good men out there."
A rumble came from the corner, and Tash frowned. Whatever it was sounded big. Reah had said she'd have one or two surprises, and for a moment Tash idly wondered if the Aussie had managed to get a tank. But then the truck appeared. It was big. It was red. It had a ladder and giant hose reel. She heard a low whistle of awe from Damen as she turned to Kate who looked completely stunned.
"Wow, so I guess we're going low-profile then?" Tash remarked.
Reah was in love with a big red fire truck. The thing had it all! She turned the wheel harshly till she was perpendicular with the Bibliophile, handling it with ease, then flicked another key, engaging ‘All-Steer’, and crab crawled till she was perfectly aligned with the sidewalk.
“Hey!” Reah chucked a salute out the window, a mischievous smirk spread across her face as she reversed down the path.
Zentara folded her wings over herself, sneaking out of the back door to look at the big red fire truck. She leaned on her staff, her wings spreading again when outside. "Impressed am I, but confused. Help us this will how?"
Tash cocked her head at Reah and pointed at the hose reel. "Stopped by a priest on the way here, I presume? If not, we'll do one on the way..."
Reah opened the door and leapt out, disregarding the steps that automatically presented themselves. With her grin still plastered on her face she wandered idly towards the back, slipping Tash a wink, “All taken care of. Right down to the twelve-hundred and fiftieth gallon.”
Kate smiled, "I like it. Multiple fatalities – that’s presuming the Brotherhood don't suddenly have an immunity against holy water as well."
Zentara thought to herself and nodded as understanding arose. "Another problem there could be, of reaching the vampires. But solution there is. Explosive spell, I have always wanted to try!" Indeed, she liked it just for the excuse. Putting a nice hole into the side of the hotel in order to spray vampires with holy water was oddly appealing.
Tash nodded. Explosive spells sounded appealing to her, as well, especially where vampires were concerned. "Ok, Reah," Tash stepped towards the truck, "What have you got stashed in the back for us?"
Reah grinned deviously as she’d been remaining rested, leaning on her hand against the roller-doors, “I thought you’d never ask.” With one swift motion, she flicked another key and sent the doors reeling up, revealing an impressive arsenal.
She grabbed one of the rifles off its stand and held it out to show everyone. She sounded like a drill sergeant as she rattled off the specifications, “This is an M203 40mm Grenade Launcher and M16A2 5.56mm rifle… There are three of these. Amongst the rest is an SMG, two Heckler-Koch CAWS, one flamethrower, tracer ammo rounds, grenades of all sorts - thermite, flash-bangs, and WP’s, also known as ‘Willie Petes’. That last is white phosphorous, so be bloody careful when you use them. I don’t know how well ventilated the area will be, but if you’re not careful the gases from these are toxic and could kill you.”
Reah placed the rifle against the wall and scanned over the contents for a brief moment before she came across what she was looking for and pulled out a couple of elegant steel blades, one was about the length of her katana, the other a good twenty to thirty centimetre, slightly curved blade, “This is something of my own that I’ve actually been working on for a while… Well, not personally, I didn’t forge it….” she stopped, realising she was beginning to ramble.
Taking a look about the expectant party, she started again, “These are specialty steel blades, top grade steel that’s been hollowed out and filled with mercury. I love ‘em.” She stepped over and handed one to Tash so she could have a feel.
Tash took the blade and hefted it appreciatively. "Hmm, a work of art," she murmured.
Jess stayed relatively conservative at the back while the others admired the weapons Reah was bringing out. She despised the thought of what was to come, of what they had to do. Ellie’s life had been short. Too short, and Jess blamed her own stupidity for it. Thoughts whirled around in her brain of how she could have improved Ellie’s abilities, made her a stronger fighter, and given her a better chance. But she couldn’t worry about that now. Ellie was already dead and she had to move on.
Trigger was too busy admiring the guns to care about the various blades for the moment. He was particularly interested in the grenade launcher. "Reah, I love you!" he called in admiration at the assemblage of weapons. "This is fucking excellent! What else do you have stored away in there?"
Zentara shook her head slowly, her beak falling open in laughter. "Humans and their guns, strange about them you are. In the end prove ineffective they will. The most fit it will be who survive - not the armed."
Kate had to agree with the sorceress. As her friends gazed lustfully at the selection of weapons she suddenly felt glad that in her profession she had no use for them.
“The most fit will survive? Perhaps. You dismiss these weapons too readily. The minds that created these built the atom bomb. Take a long look at those weapons. They speak of fitness in ways you have not understood.” Sorrow spoke from Bibliophile’s doorway, the power still flowing from him.
Tash eyed the anthropomorphic vulture as she swung the blade Reah had given her. It whistled through the air as though it were feather-light, yet Tash could feel the power behind it. Her grin flashed white, "Maybe, Zentara, but it doesn't hurt to be going armed to the teeth. And that," she pointed to the water tanker, "definitely gives us an edge. We might even get to live through this now."
She turned purposefully and strode back through Bibliophile. "Ok, guys," she called to those still inside, "Time to get your presents and we'll head out of here."
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Tuesday, 31st October 2006 - 2pm
The early afternoon sun glanced down on a peaceful scene. An old, stately hotel - looking just a little worn around the edges - stood in lonely silence amidst courtyards and gardens, heedless of the traffic that passed by on busy Wilshire Boulevard. Birds twittered and insects buzzed, and all in all it was a perfect day for lazing about in the garden reading a book. Then a couple of motorbikes and a few cars pulled up nearby and an odd assortment of people got out to mill about the back of the hotel, off the congested street. They seemed to be waiting for something. That something appeared in the form of a large red fire truck that rumbled towards the small group and stopped, facing the gates that led into a cosy, jasmine-filled courtyard.
Tash surveyed the unlikely alliance of people present and grinned at Reah as the woman jumped out of the truck. "Ok," Tash said, "We all know what we're doing. Let's roll."
She led the fighters - Reah, Jess, Damen, Alessa, Chance, Vincent and Alaric - towards the gates, ready to batter down the doors and check out the interior. Galen and Alicia stayed behind, manning the fire truck, ready to use it when needed. The magic casters hung back in a knot around Sorrow. They advanced steadily until just a foot or so inside the gates. Then Tash found herself slowing and stopping. She swivelled her head frantically, noting the others had the same difficulty, except for Chance who was striding forward.
"Damn," Tash hissed. "Wait, Chance! We're stuck!"
Inside, a vampire ran down the hallway towards Dathan's chamber. He burst through the door and paused to take in the scene. Dathan was lounging in a pile of meat that had been heaped in the centre of the room. His naked bestial form was covered from head to toe with blood and he was playfully making a blob of blood perform acrobatics in the air. He looked at the intruder with annoyance, "What would possibly make you stupid enough to barge in on me at this hour of the day?”
The vampire stammered, "A group of humans has approached from the south entrance, Lord Dathan. The alarms on that side are going wild!"
Dathan closed his eyes and thought at Nicholas, *The south entrance is being approached.*
Nicholas was already at the window staring down at the shady courtyard. Even though he could resist the southerly sunlight pouring through his window, he still felt its sting. He thought that it was odd a fire truck would be coming in here until he saw the orange-skinned humanoid step from the Mercedes-Benz and look about him in regal fashion accompanied by the humanoid Vulture. Nicholas broadcast to the vampires of the Hyperion, *Brace yourselves, we have been betrayed. Prepare for an attack!*
Daye and Kate stood close to one another, wary of the newcomers and their magic. Aside from Sorrow the two witches didn't know any of these other magic users, and in such a situation it was fairly normal to feel somewhat unsure. At least that's what Daye told herself as she approached the hotel with the group. She saw Tash and the group of fighters stop just inside the gate, and swore softly under her breath. *Must be some kind of barrier,* she thought. *We should have expected that.*
"Kate, want to take a crack at busting in?" Daye asked, stepping forward and moving towards Tash and the others.
Chance turned back to see the others stranded on the other side of the barrier, then paused. “Damn, I didn’t realise their security was that good. Well, I suppose I have something to thank Dray’chen for. Guess I’m the only one with an invite,” he said half to himself, and stared at the hotel before trailing off and becoming lost in thought. Finally, he looked up again.
“Tell ‘em to get a move on,” he nodded towards the spell casters. “I’ll keep them distracted until you’ve got the door open.” It wasn’t necessary for him to clarify who ‘they’ were.
With that Chance turned, hid his shotgun inside his jacket, raised his head high and strode purposefully into the hotel. Dray’chen had only had him for a few weeks, but that was enough for him to know exactly how to copy his walk and stature. Head high and proud, chest tucked out, looking everybody in the eye. No sign of weakness. He just prayed nobody would notice the odd bulge in his clothing from all his weapons.
Alessa watched in terror as Chance continued walking towards the interior of the hotel. She knew he was terribly angered and wanted revenge against the Elders but he wouldn’t accomplish anything just having himself killed. Stopped by the barrier she tightly closed her eyes not to show her anguish; he had been so different since Dray’chen was banished. So cold…
At the startled looks of the magicians, she hurried to explain: “He was here before… they know him, that’s probably why he wasn’t stopped by… by this!” she motioned the invisible barrier, frustrated.
Darlome stepped back a few feet and raised his hands to the air and chanted, "Im por ylem casp." As the words left his mouth a beach ball-sized ball of energy formed where his hands were, and he heaved the ball towards the magic barrier. As it collided with the barrier it was absorbed into it, causing shockwaves to radiate from the wall, knocking a few people off balance.
Kate and Daye were already busy chanting together when the recoil from the 'magic energy ball' nearly blew them off their feet. Kate dusted herself down, glaring at Darlome in annoyance as she and Daye tried to resume their concentration and focus on bringing down the barrier. The two witches harnessed their combined power as they had done many times before, muttering the words to an ancient incantation as they focused. Suddenly another ball of light shot past them, hitting the barrier and dispersing yet another shockwave of supernatural energy. They cried out in both irritation and frustration as once again the slight headway they had made was ruined.
"By Gaia, this is ridiculous!" mumbled Kate angrily, looking at the group of mages. At this rate they'd be lucky to even get in the door. Daye nodded her agreement to Kate’s sentiment, throwing the others an aggravated glare. She put a hand on Kate’s arm to hold her back. It was useless to continue if they were going to keep tripping over one another.
Tash picked herself off the ground and dusted herself off as she cast a baleful eye over the assorted mages attempting to each do their own thing. "Will one of you get the damn thing down?"
Reah grumbled in unison with Tash, immediately checking the grenades attached to her gear along with the rest of her weaponry. Breathing a slightly irritated sigh of relief, she yelled back over her shoulder, "No time like the present!"
"Uh, guys," Cole began trying to get the attention of the other spell casters. "I know I’m not nearly as experienced as the rest of you in this kind of thing, but maybe it would be better if we all worked together on this. You know, combine our energy…" His voice trailed off sheepishly. *Right Cole,* he thought to himself, *Give advice to people like a thousand times more knowledgeable than yourself.*
Daye glanced at the young man, impressed by the wisdom of his words. She offered him an encouraging smile.
Zentara walked forward, her staff held high in the air. The focus of all her power, effectively doubling her ability, the mystical amulet hung inactive about her neck. As Zentara ceased to walk she extended her arms and wings to full spread, eyes shut in concentration. She opened them glowing a dark red, her perception shifted to view the other world. She looked at the energies surrounding the Hyperion Hotel in the form of a tapestry, the spell woven tight. But like all spells, it was not without its seams and loose threads that the Spellweaver would need at some time to add to or reduce it.
As she looked on, she saw the weaves of the other spell casters forming a pattern of interference. Weaves cancelled each other out; some strengthened each other, some of the spells conflicting with each other. “Workings to continue,” said the magician to the others, who were glaring at each other. “Your energy co-ordinated can be.”
”Meck tar quil tha, pu tha con ya.”
She manipulated the textures, adding her own to the pattern, aiming to influence rather than control the other workings. The others soon realised what she was doing and her chanting grew more focused. Zentara added a subtle, underlying weave to those that already existed.
”Skudli-boo, Skudli-boo, Skudli-boodly-boodly-boo!”
Lightning lanced from Zentara’s staff, a soft white-blue colour. It stopped, revealing an orange barrier where it hit. Zentara sought out the weaker points of the barrier, adding to the underlying current of weaves. More bolts were added to the power, as she added in each thread. The orange and white-blue energies conflicted with each other, until at last there was a final flash of light and the barrier collapsed. Zentara’s staff dropped towards her hand again, leaning on it as she sought to catch her breath after the effort. “Down the barrier is,” she got out, wings folding back in.
Then with head held up she cried out, “NATURAL SELECTION!” before opening her jaw in laughter.
Inside the Hyperion vampires were scurrying to and fro, grabbing weapons and preparing for a fight. Chance paused for a minute, imagining what Dray’chen would do, then grabbed the nearest vampire and pulled their faces close. “What is the meaning of this? I demand to see your master!” he shouted, trying hard to mimic the demon’s speech to cover for his lack of comparable strength.
Dathan appeared in a puff of smoke, grabbed Dray'chen and teleported elsewhere within the Hyperion. "Do not expose your back to the enemy, Dray'chen. You were not wise to come here at this time. Should you decide to continue to fight by our side, I suggest you listen to those who have faced such backlash and not the cowering minions you are used to dealing with."
Valerian stood in the corner, pungent odours and colours whirling around him, "Dathan..." he spoke tentatively.
"I don't need your suggestions," Chance said, shrugging off Dathan's hand and cutting in on Valerian. He feared the other vampire had him sussed. "In fact, I would think you need my help right now."
"You are a whelp compared to your God, Dray'chen. You cannot hope to stand against the assembled forces outside."
An explosion from outside made a flash of light leak through the heavy curtains. "Uh, Dathan... we don't have time for this," said Valerian.
“Shut up you simpering fop!" shouted Dathan, becoming even more bestial.
Valerian turned to him in defiance, "Look at your allies, my Lord!"
Dathan blanched, and turned to 'Dray'chen'. "You..." he said with menace.
Chance smiled broadly. The game was up, but he could still go out with a bang. Literally. "Boo," he said, pulling two grenades out of his pockets and flicking off the catches. "See ya in Hell, motherfuckers!"
Dathan touched Valerian and teleported, his exiting comments reverberating around the empty room, "I have been to Hell, whelp, and it wasn't hot enough!"
"Oh, shit." This was not good. Time for Chance seemed to slow. The grenades would go off in seconds, but seconds stretched to minutes. He was able to register that both Elders were gone, and that if he didn't act now he wouldn't have much time. Dropping both of the grenades, he turned and dived towards the door to the room. It splintered apart as he hit and he went flying out, realising with shock that the corridor he was expecting to find himself in turned out to be overlooking the lobby. Then the grenades went off, sending him flying once more. He crashed into a barrier, fell through it and hit the floor of the lobby several feet below.
Dazed, he pulled himself to his feet to meet the army of vampires bearing down on him. *Now would be a great time for the cavalry,* he thought, reaching for his shotgun only to find he had lost it. Well, now wasn’t the time to look for the weapon. Cursing, he grabbed stake and nightstick and prepared to meet the vampires’ charge head-on.
Nicholas and Krispin stood in the ballroom off the lobby of the Hyperion. Hundreds of vampires were stationed to protect them from the invading crusaders. There they waited for Dathan and Valerian. Krispin held out a hand to Nicholas, “The barrier has fallen. I have to say, it’s been nice knowing you all these centuries, but I am not going to make a stand today. Good luck surviving this angry mob.”
Krispin transformed into a gigantic serpent and slithered downstairs towards the sewers. Dathan arrived with a puff of sulphurous smoke and Valerian bounded down from an overlooking balcony in panther-form and transformed in mid-air to land gracefully as a man.
“Where is that coward going?” rumbled Dathan.
“Krispin has decided to leave our company, Dathan,” Nicholas simpered.
Valerian mumbled under his breath, “Remind me to hunt him down and slowly roast his immortal carcass over a fire until he bursts after we have dealt with this mob.”
Nicholas was quick to respond, “You said that when he left back in 1880 as well.”
“Well I mean it double this time!” snapped Valerian.
Dathan cut them both off, “Enough, fools. This is war, not child’s play! Prepare to fight!”
Outside, Trigger and Reah exchanged serious glances before the two smiled at each other. The pair had been just itching for a good fight. They checked their rifles quickly before facing each other. "So, shall we dance?" Trigger asked.
Reah's grin got larger. "Let's."
Alaric sighed to himself, pulling out two Ghurkha knives from beneath his jacket, the blades perfect for decapitation. He looked at the group caught in slight awe at the magic just employed. "What in hell are you all waiting for? CHARGE!"
The group of fighters all ran through the open doors unhindered, guns poised and stakes at the ready. Kate turned to face the rest of the group of mages, "We may as well follow, there's no way the Elders will come out here and if they do," Kate signalled towards the fire truck where Alicia and Galen both waited, water hose at the ready, "we have back up."
That said, Kate, Daye, Cole, Zentara and Darlome all advanced forwards behind the hunters and warriors. "Remember," she added just before they crossed the threshold, "our main concern is protecting Sorrow until he's had time to finish the ritual. Back up the others but try to keep handy, we're going to need all the magical fire power we can get if we're going to pull this off."
Daye nodded at Kate’s words, taking a stand close to her friend and preparing herself for the coming battle. She pushed thoughts of the birthday celebrations she was missing for Maia out of her head and concentrated on surviving long enough to get back to her precious little girl. With a look of grim determination, she advanced.
Alaric ran forward. A vampire met him head on and attempted to grapple the orange-skinned humanoid. Alaric brought one of the knives to bear on the vampire, striking for its neck. He turned to a second vampire, grappling with him before slashing at his neck.
Tash ran into the room, picking out Chance's bright aura among all the black of vampires. She lobbed a grenade in the corner away from him, yelling, "Chance! To us!" She averted her eyes from the grenade's flash, hearing the sounds of vampires squealing. Tash grinned as she brought her crossbow to bear. Hundreds of vampires filled the lobby of this hotel. She could hardly miss.
Daye strode into the hotel, eyes darting every which way. There were vampires here in the lobby. She pulled a stake out of her jacket and waited for them to come to her. Daye was unprepared for how strong these underlings were. She'd known in her head, but seeing it for real was terrifying. She felt a strong sense of foreboding. Stopping this horror would come at a price, and she only prayed that the price would not be too great.
Chance heard Tash's cry, saw the grenade, and started moving towards the good guys charging into the hotel. The first vampire he met had his back turned to him, watching the fighters now entering the hall, and Chance struck him over the back of the head with his nightstick. *Huh, not so tough,* Chance thought, ducking his head as the grenade went off. The blast scattered a cluster but only one of the mob seemed to die. The others picked themselves up and charged on despite the ruined clothing and ragged wounds.
Kate watched the ensuing violence with a watchful eye. Vampire hunters and vampires began to fight headlong with sporadic bursts of grenade fire lighting up the gloomy hotel. Instead of joining in the fight Kate remained calm, keeping a good distance back from the action while remaining ready to defend Sorrow when needed.
Trigger and Reah averted their eyes for a moment before advancing together, firing short controlled bursts from their rifles.
Zentara's mouth shut – no more laughing.
Sorrow watched his friends and allies take the fight to the vampires, and a part of him wished he could stand by their side instead of standing back and waiting. He had, however, no option. He worked to transform the powers he had raised – to meld them with his own energies. Stepping into the melee would ruin his concentration, slowing the whole process and removing what little control he had.
*What the hell is all that commotion?* From the basement cellar, Darian could make out the sounds of a frantic hotel upstairs. *It sounds like a bloody war zo…* his jaw dropped as the realization hit him like a hammer to the head. *Tash!* In his time spent being tortured, he had totally forgotten that his friend had mentioned that there was an attack planned on the Elders. New energy filled his mangled body as Darian thought of the battle going on just a few metres overhead.
*You’ve got to get there and help them,* he coaxed himself preparing to give one last try and breaking free. After his encounter with the Slayer-Vampire, he had noticed that his chains were not as secure as they once were, but even then he hadn’t the strength to do anything about it. However now he had a purpose, a reason to get out. He took one final breath and then began to pull with all his might.
Bullets cut through the advancing ranks of vampires. The mob slowed but only the impact seemed to have any effect. They got angrier and snarled the atrocities they would pour into the heroes once they reached the invaders.
It was with shock that Chance saw the vampire he had just struck get back up again and throw him a punch. Chance caught it in the face and staggered back. That really hurt.
Trigger launched another grenade into the crowd. "Take that you undead fucks!"
Reah swivelled on her heel, catching sight of a vampire over her shoulder, and delivered a swift roundhouse kick to its temple, knocking it to the ground before ripping her entire clip through it till it diminished to dust. The magazine ejected and she slammed in a new one at the ready.
Suddenly one vampire ran at the group of mages, his fangs bared and ready to attack. The first wave was almost upon them, borne forward by the pressing mobs behind them. The force of the bullets was not enough to cut into the mass of flesh that pressed forward.
A vampire broke through the crowd of defenders and made for the magic users in the back. His face was bestial, and he growled furiously as he approached Daye.
Zentara reached out with her power to grab one of the vampires. He dangled above his mates and danced like a toy doll shaken until his limbs exploded in five different directions. "One that is," she said. Zentara then lifted the vampire heading for Daye into the air, before crying out, "Eck no tos!" He exploded into flames. "Try that, have always wanted!"
Tash's crossbow zinged as bolts flew across the room. They struck unerringly at the hearts of one, two, then three vampires. A fist flew at her from the side as vampires crowded in on the group, and Tash elbowed the owner of the fist in the face before stabbing him with the fourth bolt. He fell in a pile of dust and Tash's grin turned to a look of dismay as she saw a dozen other vampires running towards her.
"Shit," Tash muttered, and drew out a Willie Pete. She lobbed it at the group of vamps and yelled "Fire in the hole!" as she dove away from it.
Two vampires attacked Alessa when she entered the lobby. She landed a kick to the midsection of the first vampire, shoving him back to the floor. Quickly she aimed Chance’s crossbow and fired, the vampire turning to dust. She turned and pushed the weapon into the chest of the other vampire, shooting the bolt directly into his heart. As the dust set down, Alessa looked around searching for Chance. Relieved, she saw him on the other side of the room fighting like crazy. She was too far, but she started moving towards him.
Chance duelled with the vampire, adjusting for the creature's strength. He was just getting the upper hand with a roundhouse kick when two more joined in the fight, and he was forced back on the defensive again. Cracking one of the newcomers with the nightstick in the chin, Chance turned just in time to block another's punch with his forearm, then a second with his fist.
Jess discarded the crossbow as she fired her final bolt, dusting a vampire as he made his way closer and closer toward her. She pulled a stake from her pocket and waited as several vampires came running her way.
Daye let her stake drop to the floor and began to chant as more of the monsters charged her and the others. A vampire held out a talisman and with speech muddied by the huge fangs that protruded from his mouth, "No dice, mage. I gots protection!"
Jess kicked the vampire in the stomach, before punching him square on in the face, neither of which moves caused much to happen. The vampire growled then, and went for Jess. She dodged the punches and ducked a kick before finding the right moment to drive the stake home.
One vampire was already about to attack Daye but Kate had no time to help her with the fight as another of the Elder's undead minions descended upon the group. Kate pulled out a small vial of holy water from her pocket and launched it at the vampire. As his flesh began to burn she grinned, "I guess the old methods really are the best!"
Zentara’s mouth opened in laughter. "To skin a cat, multiple ways. Factually true, it is!"
The vampire was only slowed down in his attack by the burning of his skin, Kate cried out and dodged to one side as he caught her in his strong arms. She was fast but not fast enough and the vampire came crashing down on top of her.
Outside, Galen and Alicia heard the sounds of fighting begin, and backed the truck up, knocking down the garden gates and crushing the plants under heavy wheels. When they were as close as they could get Galen ran the hose out and signalled for Alicia to turn on the water.
Sorrow winced as an incendiary grenade exploded. Burning fragments of phosphor cleaved through the crowd. . Thick white smoke cascaded in their wake and over a dozen vampires burned to ashes.
Trigger and Reah jumped aside, while Alaric continued to grapple with individual vampires. They covered each other for a moment as they each took turns reloading their rifles. A vampire ran towards Trigger, who switched to stakes. The vampire grabbed his arms, pulling them down by his sides.
Reah reached into her belt for a stake, shoving it into said vamp. "Got your back," she winked, then launched another grenade into some distant grouping vamps, "FORE!"
Daye lifted her hand, holding forth a brownish piece of rock. She continued to chant and suddenly light shot from the stone, striking an onrushing vampire. The light struck him and he began to burn, howling in rage and pain. . *Sunlight in an easy to manage carrying case,* she thought. *Should have worked that one out years ago.*
Cole's eyes widened as he noticed a rather brutal looking vamp making his way in back of an unsuspecting Chance. *Oh shit!* His hands flew up in an instant and bolt of blue energy flew towards the bloodsucker, and knocked him harmlessly away from his friend. Chance looked towards Cole and smiled his thanks, then turned back to the other two vampires. Cole continued to hurl tiny bolts of energy at random vampires, all the while shaking in fright. *I hope we live, I hope we live, I hope we live...*
As the pressure built inside the hose, Galen leaned against the doorjamb of the office he'd reached. He could see the lobby through the gap and aimed the nozzle at the largest group of vamps he could see. The vampires that were hit with the torrent disappeared in a splat of mud, the others splashed were screaming in pain and terror. Soon the rush of water began to pool in the lobby and vampires were dissolving like Alka-Seltzer tablets in the standing fluid. The doorways to the Ballroom burst open and the throng ran into the larger room, trampling their mates into the acidic death at their feet in a rush to escape and regroup.
Tash looked around and winked at Galen. "Nice job," she said, although she knew he couldn't hear her over the roar of water, screaming and guns.
The water played over the backs of the mob making them dissolve and disappear like caked mud under a garden hose. Only this was a thousand times cooler. The water from the pumper outside began losing pressure and the hose managed a feeble spray that would no longer reach the ballroom. The vampire on top of Kate sizzled then splattered as a layer of soggy ash over her. Kate looked up in surprise and Galen shot her a wink as he continued to direct the dying hose at the undead creatures.
Daye watched in horror as Kate went down beneath the burning vampire before her. Daye pushed towards Kate, just as the water made mush of her opponent.
With the water pressure dwindling, Alicia jumped down from the truck and waded into the hotel, stake in hand. She pushed through to join the melee, engaging one of the vampires that still stood.
Chance watched and laughed as the vampires facing him melted and fled. "Once more unto the breach, dear friends," he said, eyeing up the entrance to the ballroom and staking the odd vampire as they ran.
In the dungeon below, at first Darian’s efforts seemed hopeless, but the more he struggled the more he could feel his shackles loosening from the wall. The metal wrist cuffs dug into his skin, drawing blood, but Darian ignored the pain; he had to keep going. Finally, just as he was going to give up, the links binding him to the wall snapped under the pressure. He breathed a brief sigh of accomplishment as he ran towards the door that would lead to the fight.
*Hold on guys I’m – DAMN! * On the other side of the door stood four thick iron bars, blocking his escape. The vampires had taken precautions in case the fae had somehow managed to break free. Darian instantly tried to bend the bars, but it was no use. This time brute force was not going to work. “Come on, think, think, think,” he said aloud, pacing back and forth. “If I could only fit through the fricken bars -” he stopped his pacing as another idea formed in his head. *It’s a long shot, but I’ve got to try.*
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Tash looked on with relief as the remaining vampires broke and ran, heading for the large double-doors to the side of the lobby. "After them!" she cried, firing a bolt at one retreating back and smirking as it vanished in a pile of dust that quickly turned to mud on the wet floor.
Alessa had been shooting with the crossbow until she had no more bolts, then she took her stake to continue fighting, although the holy water was making disaster among the vampire ranks and they had begun running towards the ballroom.
The remaining dozens of vampires, sizzling and sore-covered, faced their attackers from the safety of the ballroom. The collective thought was evident, *Well, that sucked!* The Elders spread out from the worried cluster to cover different quadrants of the room. They had learned long ago that standing too close together was an invitation to disaster.
As the vampires retreated into the ballroom, the heroes advanced. Daye and the other mages kept close to Sorrow as the group moved forward.
*Not yet! Not yet! It hasn’t built yet…” Sorrow was frantic; the fire hose had driven the vamps back and opened a path to the Elders, but the ritual wasn’t complete. He needed more time to finish the process. Yet he could say nothing for to do so would tip their hand. He could only watch as everyone risked their lives on blind faith.
As the water tank of the fire engine dwindled into almost nothing, Galen threw it down on the floor. It had served its purpose and pretty well if he did say so himself. Now, however, was the time to fight. He made his way across the lobby, helping Kate to her feet as she tried to scrape off the layer of muddy vampire dust from her clothes. “You all right?” he asked as they waded through the water towards the ballroom.
“I am now,” she smiled, water sloshing around her ankles as she entered the ballroom to catch up with the rest of the group. Galen squeezed her hand reassuringly before once more dashing into the fray, leaving Kate to return to her position in protecting Sorrow.
Tash grabbed Damen and Jess and together they charged into the ballroom. Inside were the dozens of vampires remaining, plus three of the Elders and… Tash drew in her breath. “Jade...”
Jade had known it would come to this. Herself against the people she'd once fought along side with. Now it was her versus them. She stood, poised among the largest group of vampires and watched silently as the woman she thought of as one of her closest friends came through the door.
Jade's grip around her dagger's jewelled handle tightened but she kept the blade sheathed. Seeing the people she had cared about in the flesh, she knew now that there was no way she could raise a hand in battle and harm any of them. Yet, she had to do all she could to protect the nightwalkers around her, the ones who had been her companions of late.
Chance followed in Tash's, Damen's and Jess' wake, his nightstick twirling through the air and cracking vampiric bone every time.
Dathan roared and transformed into a gigantic bat-man hybrid. He waded into the fray and grabbed the first hero that came into his range, Jess. He lifted her up to stare into his eyes. Jess’ mouth opened to say something witty but only gurgling sounds came from her throat as her blood rippled up and out of her lips forming a crimson ball above her face.
Tash growled deep in her throat and thrust with deadly intent at Dathan. Her stake almost seemed to bounce off the ancient vampire. "Oh fuck," Tash muttered under her breath. It was one thing to know a vampire was almost invulnerable, but quite another to know it.
Alaric charged into the room, looking for where the various Elders had gone. But there was one other priority. "Destroy the Slayer!"
The vampires surrounding Jade surged forward like a pack of wild dogs, straining to attack Tash as she made her futile moves on Dathan. Perhaps they found Tash's failure to harm the Ancient to be a sign of weakness but Jade knew better. She knew the kind of hunter Tash could be. She also knew that Tash might not stand a chance if besieged by such a large group of predators. Either way, Jade saw pain and loss. Unless she...
The slim pendant around Jade's neck glowed as she focused her power, causing the vamps to suddenly still in their attack. As if mesmerised, they turned towards her. "Protect Ellie. They're trying to kill her!" Nodding, the group dispersed, intent on fulfilling her command.
Tash looked with horror at what was happening to Jess. But Alaric was right. The Slayer was the key. She searched for the girl, trying to pick Ellie out of the crowd.
As she entered the ballroom, Alessa was attacked by behind but she ducked the vampire’s punch, smashing him a harsh uppercut that slammed him to the ground. She staked him, and turned as she heard a cry. Two vampires charged Chance full on, even as he tried to make his way to the Slayer.
As they came into the ballroom, Daye saw Jessica trapped in Dathan's deadly grip. She wanted to rush to her friend’s aid, but knew it would be a waste of time. Ellie stood to one side; she had a blonde companion she seemed to be defending. Jess pointed feebly towards Ellie, as emphatically as she could while being drained of her blood.
"Ignis Contego!" shouted Kate, holding her hands out directed at an incoming assault of vampires. Suddenly an arc of fire momentarily surrounded her, repelling any attack and sending the vampires screaming on the floor.
Nicholas pulled a flat piece of wood from his coat and extended a string from one end. He activated it with a Guaraní word, “Kororô.” He whirled the wood around his head and the resulting roar from the action was deafening. Vampires and humans alike winced in pain from the volume, but the spell casters were treated to piercing pain like needles into their brains.
Zentara hunched over in distress, fighting to focus. She began to chant again, a spell to bend Nicholas’ weave from her.
Sorrow ground his teeth in rage. The spell barely touched him. He’d held his concentration through backlash far worse than this but now, trapped in completing the ritual, he had nothing to distract the vampire with.
Daye doubled over in pain from the piercing howl. Kate too crouched down on the ground as the high-pitched screech pierced her brain causing her to scream in agony. Daye closed her eyes and retreated in her mind to the "dreamscape". From there she was shielded from Nicholas’ attack as she quickly assembled a barrier against the sound. She returned to her conscious mind and stood, glaring at the Elder vampire with vitriol.
Chance ducked and spun, tripping one up as the 'stick collided with its shins. The other caught him with kicks and punches as he came up. Chance fought as best he could, but couldn't match him. It had become too powerful. So Chance reached down into that dark place inside of him where Dray'chen dwelt and touched just a portion of his power. He felt strength flow through him, and this he augmented with his hatred for vampires. The surge of power was all he needed to become more than the super-vampire’s equal. With this, he was able to beat the unliving crap out of the vampire and dust him, then moved swiftly onto three more, blocking out the screeching even as it deafened others.
Pulling out the knife Reah had given her, Tash slashed at Dathan's legs, trying to get him to free Jess, but he merely batted her away with a meaty paw, "Wait your turn," he growled, “I’ll get to you soon enough.”
Ellie moved to defend Nicholas. The heroes were moving too close, and she had seen him use spells before. He was not a 'modern' caster; he could not fight and cast at the same time. Reah and Alaric both saw Ellie and the blonde companion, before beginning to fight their way towards the pair. Daye also saw Ellie moving towards Nicholas to defend him. She felt sick at the loss of the girl, the Slayer, and even more so at the thought of what they must now do to her.
Vincent ran into the room firing at any vampire that came his way. The bullets of his P90 ripped through the chest of a rather nasty looking vampire and then click. Vincent looked at his gun and said the first thing that came to his head, "Aw, fuck!" The vampire leaped onto Vincent, pinning him down with his weight. Vincent looked into the eyes of the vampire and smiled.
The vampire soared off Vincent and slammed into a wall. Vincent’s glowing hand device shimmered in the light as he motioned for the vampire to come towards him and with the help of his powers the limp body of the vampire complied. Vincent took a stake out of his pocket and stabbed it hard into his heart, causing him to burst into dust
Valerian transformed into a black panther and leapt upon Tash. His catlike face was a mass of fangs, all of them dripping saliva. He sank his jaws deep into her shoulder. She screamed once, biting off the sound as she pounded her stake into him multiple times, each time failing to find his feline heart. She felt her blood draining from her and grabbed for the holy water. She opened the bottle as Valerian transformed into smoke and reformed a few feet away. “Now, now, Natasha, you wouldn’t want to make me angry would you?”
Reah drew her sword over her shoulder off her back and balanced the rifle in her left hand. Slicing a clear path through two vampires in her way, she severed their spinal cords and watched them fall with a wicked smile spread across her face. She re-sheathed her sword and pulled a stake out of her coat as she continued to barrel through the throng of demons towards her target, *Poor chick... Never even got around to taking her skating, either. Shit, Tash!* Reah cursed as she spotted the woman struggling with a black panther, but forced herself onwards, *Get the Slayer, get the Slayer, get the Slayer...*
Chance backhanded two vampires and kicked the third in front of him. As the other two came back at him, he side-kicked one, broke the nose of the other, then ducked under the guard of the third and dusted him. The other two were a little more trouble, and Chance had to punch Broken Nose in the ribs, neck and chest, taking a painful kick to his own ribs in return and a blow to the side of the head. But he overcame him, throwing the vampire into his partner and staking them both.
Tash gasped at the searing pain in her shoulder. "Oh, you have no idea how I want to make you feel, Valerian." She hurled the bottle at him and while he dodged it she rushed the Elder and kicked him solidly in the groin.
Valerian merely winced slightly, a pained expression on his face. "Now, that wasn't very ladylike, my dear Natasha." His eyes narrowed and he advanced on the hunter with a satisfied smirk.
Galen was quick to arrive at his wife's side, blowing a giant gaping hole in the head of the vampire minion he had been fighting. "We'll finish this later," he said, running to Kate's aid. He pulled her up from the floor, as she continued to clasp her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the deafening noise.
“Aaarrghhh!” she cried out in pain, pointing at Nicholas, “It’s him… we’ve got… to stop… him… aaaagggghhh!!”
Galen levelled his gun at the Elder Nicholas; he knew it wouldn't kill him but he hoped it might be enough to break his spell. However, the bullets merely fell to the ground, useless and not so much as marking the vampire.
Reah reached a clearing and suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of disgust and hatred swell up in her as she recognised Ellie's blonde companion. *Britney. Fucking. Spears. She must DIE!* As the brief opening closed up again Reah fought her way forward with more passion than she had ever mustered before. *And the best part, it's perfectly justifiable! Heat of battle!*
Raising the sunstone high above her head, Daye focused on Nicholas for a moment. His spellcasting was obviously ancient and required utmost concentration. While her barrier held, Daye would see if she could break that concentration. Focusing her energy, Daye tapped into the sunlight stored in the stone and chanted, sending a beam at the Elder. The light struck him, but did not burn.
Zentara turned to Daye and Kate, breaking in between her chanting. "Our powers together join. Nicholas power upon him turn back, we must!"
Daye nodded once curtly at the demoness and refocused her energies. Trying to focus on blocking out Nicholas’ spell, Kate clasped her hand with Daye's, completing the circle.
Vincent calmly sat his backpack down and took out several metallic discs with sharp points on each end, about the size of a hubcap. He picked them all up and hovered one slowly in the air and looked for his target, spotting a vampiress running towards Chance. He sent the disc flying towards her, cutting into her neck and taking her head off before implanting itself hard into the wall. Vincent sent more discs flying into the necks of the vampires that rushed towards him. The spinning metal devices implanted themselves in a strange pattern across the walls and the vampires that survived his hurricane of serrated metal got the idea into their heads that running away would foil their deaths. Hefting his last blade, Vincent sent it hurtling towards a particularly ugly looking vampire. The ugly vampire turned tail and began to run but wasn’t fast enough to avoid the blade. It slammed into his back and stuck him to a wall, his own weight pulling him down and cutting his body in half, exploding in a cloud of dust.
Chance spun in time to see the vampiress charging him lose her head, then looked in Vincent’s direction. The kid gave a mock salute, which he returned with a tip of the head. There wasn’t time for anything else. Four vampires had encircled him, requiring his immediate attention. Chance was only too happy to oblige.
Facing the iron bars, Darian closed his eyes and began to look deep within himself, searching for the source of Evexus’ magic. *If he could do it, it means I have the ability to do it…THERE!* A warm glow washed over Darian’s body as he fanned the spark of Evexus’ magic. The fae’s form began to shrink down, smaller and smaller, his bloodied body being replaced by a layer of fur. The shackles that were still attached on his wrists fell away when his hands altered into canine paws. *Hmmm, not quite what I was expecting, but this works also,* Darian thought, as he slipped through the bars and ran towards his friends.
Jade leapt from the overlooking balcony and landed behind Tash as the hunter was about to engage with Valerian. She stripped the knife from Tash’s hand and wrapped her arm around her neck. She whispered into her friend’s ear, “Play along and you can escape this bloodbath.”
Jade gently placed her mouth over the ragged hole her father had left in Tash’s shoulder. The sweet taste of the blood tickled her burning desire. * A small taste,* she thought and almost unconsciously drank a sip.
A vampire hit Reah in the back, knocking her to her knees and sending her stake skittering away. She reached down and behind her back for the 30cm mercury blade, using her momentum to roll over before slashing at the vamp. Reah found another stake in her coat, using it to strike at the vampire. He turned to dust, and in satisfaction she resumed her drive towards Britney. Britney stood behind Ellie and attempted to look brave, but in fact she was terrified. She had not heard this many people crying for her blood since her last press conference.
Beads of sweat trickled down Cole’s face. Harnessing mystical forces for one spell was tiring enough, let alone casting several in sequence. However, the exhausted teen ignored the splitting migraine in his head and continued to focus on the battle – anything less would get him killed. Strange words started to pour from his mouth, while Cole’s fingers played out weird patterns in the air.
Just as Cole was ready to unleash the destructive energy on another brood member, his bright blue eyes caught hold of the behemoth known as Dathan. *Shit, I’ve got to help Jess,* he thought as he broke out of formation around Sorrow, to get a better aim on the Ancient. An instant later, a flash of brilliant azure energy exploded from the teen’s hands. Unfortunately, the spell did not produce the desired effect. The spell did nothing to Dathan, save for attracting his highly unwanted attention.
“A boy?!” Dathan made the ball of blood coat him like red paint as he dropped the limp Jess and faced Cole. The Ancient simply stepped over Jess’ unmoving form and began to stride over to the terrified teen. “They think a boy will stop me?”
*No, I’ll stop you, you bastard. Come on! Come on!* Sorrow silently screamed as he felt the spell continue to build.
Cole lifted his hands once more, trying to blurt out a defensive spell, but the words would not stick in his head. He had seen vampires before, hell he had even fought some when he first met Chance, but Dathan was different. He exuded an aura of terror that could freeze a man in his tracks. Cole started to back away from his gigantic stalker, his eyes wide and petrified. “CHANCE! Chance, help!”
Tash squirmed in Jade's grasp. The sensation of Jade’s tongue licking up the blood from her shoulder was nauseating. "Oh, no you don't," she gasped at her once-friend. But Jade's grip was firm as she manoeuvred Tash away from Valerian.
Alessa looked out; Dathan had Cole by the throat, impeding him from uttering any spell, dangling him as it brought his fangs forward. Alessa was too far. She'd never make it through all the vampires to the teen in time. "Chance!" she cried out.
Chance fought off the creature, one far more powerful than any he had faced so far, and managed to buy himself a few seconds. He looked around for Cole, and found him caught up by Dathan on the other side of the lobby. To get there, he would have to make his way across the entire fight. Although he knew he wouldn’t make it, that Dathan would drain Cole before he got even halfway, he was damn well determined to try.
Cole caught sight of Chance across the room, and instantly fell into despair. The look on his friend’s face had told him all he needed to know – he would never reach him before the Ancient drank. The teen turned his attention back to Dathan, whose fangs were descending towards his vulnerable throat. *Oh God, I don’t want to die.*
Just before the vampire could rip the young sorcerer to pieces, a large grey and white wolf leaped from the midst of the chaos and barrelled into Dathan, knocking the Ancient back a few steps. In a blink of an eye the wolf began to grow even more, its features turning into that of a human. Cole gasped when he saw just who it was that had saved him. *The guy from the restaurant!*
Darian wasted no time as he rushed back to the teen’s side and, without so much as a word, tossed Cole over his shoulder. The fae took a quick look around until he saw the man the boy had called out to. In a single bound Darian jumped to the other side of the room, landing almost directly next to Chance. There was a moment of awkwardness when Darian realized exactly who the man was. *The man Evexus hunted.*
But he didn’t have time to explain himself. Putting Cole back on the ground, the fae turned to Chance. “Take care of the kid,” he said, and with that he made his way back into the fighting, his sights set on Dathan.
Chance’s eyes opened wide in shock as the man landed next to him. He immediately recognised the Dark Fae that had captured him in the first place, but before he got an opportunity to fight him, Cole had been dumped in his arms. “You all right, Cole? Still with us?”
The boy simply nodded, relieved to be still alive. The two had no time for more words; the battle still raged on.
"Tell me what to do, will you?" Chance muttered to himself as he ran back into the fight.
Alessa sidestepped a vampire’s lunge only to be caught in the grasp of one from behind. Alessa freed herself with a vicious kick to its shin. It snarled and sprang for her, and she gasped as it slammed her against the wall. It leaned in for the bite, but before she could react an arm wrapped around the vampire’s neck, snapping it backwards. Chance dusted him and offered her a hand to steady her.
“You ok?" Chance asked her.
Alessa nodded, and offered Chance a weak smile.
Kate, Daye and Zentara all concentrated together, each blending and harmonising their magical powers into one great force. They focused all their energies on the Elder Nicholas, feeling the barriers around him come gradually apart. "Power gained by treacherous means is nature's bitter enemy. He who burns with stolen power; will now become your funeral pyre!"
Nicholas' head erupted in flame and he cried in pain. He released the howler and extinguished the blaze with a thought, but his eyes flared in anger like red coals in his smouldering face.
The penetrating roar from Nicholas’ device finally stopped, allowing Darlome to act. As the other mages were drawn away, vampires had piled into his corner of the room and now Darlome quickly dropped the weapons his temporary allies had given him. The first vampire faced Darlome and he transformed into his demon form, giving the vampire a slight start – enough time for Darlome to place his bare hand on the vampire’s face and incant.
“Vas flam,” spoke Darlome and the vampire burst into dust. The dust barely had time to clear when he saw the fist come through it and narrowly miss him. Darlome kicked the vamp in the balls, making him automatically bend over and squeal like a pig; he reached inside his jacket pocket and drew out a sawn off shotgun. He pointed it at the vampire on the ground but as he was about the pull the trigger he saw a vampiress rush him from his right side. He quickly whipped the shotgun up and pulled the trigger, blowing the vampiress’ face off and causing her to explode into dust.
Tash fumbled for a stake, her gun, another grenade - anything she could use to prise Jade free from her. Jade kept hustling her toward the doorway, trying to get Tash away from the main action, but stopped short when she saw Sorrow standing just inside the doorway, a look of concentration on his face. Jade let go of Tash, forgetting her for a moment as she stared at her lover. *Ex-lover,* she reminded herself regretfully.
The battle flowed about Sorrow as his friends and allies threw themselves at the Elders, but he wasn't ready. The power still hadn't had time to build. So he watched helpless while his friends fought. Watched as his love fed upon his friend's blood.
"Jade..." The heartbroken whisper was ripped from his lips. He thought he was ready. He thought that after that awful night when he promised to kill her he was ready. But he wasn't ready, could never be ready, not for this.
The pull of him was almost too much to bear but Jade held herself steady. She met his gaze levelly, forcing herself not to flinch from the anguish on his face. She had made her choice to return to Valerian, just as he had made his choice not to join her.
"Tris, I..." Her voice was filled with all the emotion that stemmed from the things that she could not say. The love she'd felt for him from the day they'd met was evident on her face.
"You must leave. Please, Tris. This... attack of yours is useless. You have no idea how powerful the Elders are." Jade's words were low and urgent as she glanced anxiously over her shoulder.
"We have to try." Sorrow's smile was sad, for they would carry the day whatever the cost. "We won't let them take our world without a fight, Jade. You knew that... once."
There were no tears in his eyes; it was too late for that. Instead, just a deep abiding love and a pit of sorrow and regret – that it would end this way. "When this is over you'll have choices, Jade. More than you think you have."
Tash watched the two for a moment, wanting to give them some privacy, but unwilling to leave Sorrow unprotected against what she now had to consider an enemy. He was far too important to their plans. So she grabbed Jade and threw her bodily back into the ballroom. "I'm sorry," Tash said, and she wasn't sure if she was speaking to Sorrow or Jade.
Mystic forces swirled around the room, congregating on Nicholas' form and covering him from head to foot. He gasped through the powerful archaic bonds that surrounded him tightly, choking the unlife out of him with hellfire. He snarled, clawing through the energies that snaked around his form.
Daye let the energy flow from her, intertwining with that of the other women. She felt a flash of triumph as Nicholas' scream echoed in the room.
Darian battled his way through the hordes of vampires, his eyes still locked on the Ancient. “Dathan!” he screamed trying to draw his enemy’s attention. “It ends here and now!”
“Oh you are right fae,” a young dark haired vamp interrupted, as he stepped to block Darian’s path. “It will end now.”
He went to claw the fae’s face, but with lightning reflexes Darian ducked under the blow and rolled behind the bloodsucker. With a quick jerk, Darian ripped the man’s head straight off his shoulders. “I don’t have time for this shit”.
Dathan licked some of the blood off his lips and faced Darian. "You could have been my perfect servant. Unaffected by the light. Powerful in magic and immortal. You chose this flawed existence, and you shall realize in horrifying agony why it was the wrong choice."
"Evil eyes look into thee, may they soon extinguished be!" the three witches continued to chant, feeling their powers knitting ever more tightly together. Nicholas screamed in rage as his flesh burned and bubbled into blisters by the conjured magic.
Instead of trying to fight against the enchantment being employed, Nicholas turned his attention to one of his followers. It wouldn't take much to break the connection between the three witches, he judged.
Dathan walked slowly towards Darian, the vampires and heroes parting to allow him room. Dathan moved like a column of fire in the desert – a force of nature.
Chance nodded back to Alessa, then looked up and around. He saw Evexus squaring up against Dathan, and though he didn't know whose side the Fae was on, that could be sorted out later. They didn't look too friendly, and after all was not the enemy of your enemy your ally? Chance thought so, and began making his way a hackin' and a stakin' over to them.
Darian rushed towards the Ancient, his eyes glowing a bright purple. He let loose everything he had. Punches, kicks, head butts. He was like a cyclone of rage. However, Dathan seemed hardly even annoyed by the fae's attacks.
Dathan laughed, "That tickles, fae. Can you scratch my back next? I have an itch!"
Alaric viewed the pair Reah was advancing towards, not caring about the blonde woman hiding behind Ellie. Even if she couldn't sing, it just proved that humans had bad taste. He was the first to reach Ellie, the pair trading a series of powerful blows with one another. It was clear that the two were almost evenly matched. Alaric lost one of his knives as he went down, using Ellie's momentum to toss her over him. The pair stood up to face each other, each equally armed.
Ellie's speed and strength matched Alaric's strength and experience. Ellie feinted and Alaric didn't fall for it. He came up hard into her chin, "You are never going to be as devious as I am, girl."
Britney Spears made an attempt to run, but was caught by Reah. The pair began to fight, but Reah soon got the upper hand. "How 'bout I hit you, baby, one more time?" She thrust a stake into the singer's heart, then stared in surprise as she turned to dust. "She was a vampire?!"
Tash looked back to the ballroom. The fighting was intense, and she noted with alarm that almost all of Sorrow’s bodyguard had been distracted. Kate, Daye and Zentara were busy dealing with Nicholas, and Cole had been drawn into a battle with Dathan. Darlome had transformed into something rather more demonic, but was still fighting. He was the only one of Sorrow’s defenders left and he had his hands more than full as vampires piled towards the entrance in which Sorrow stood.
She looked at her friend, noting his gaze following Jade’s movements as she was caught up with Valerian in the fray once more, and wondered what Sorrow was thinking. He was completely unreadable right now. Tash sliced the throat of a vampiress that got past Darlome’s defences, deeply enough to dust her, and she called to Sorrow over her shoulder, “Sorrow, Jade’s made her choice. You’ve got to do it!”
*I’m trying, Tash.* Sorrow shook himself. He’d let himself get distracted, almost let the power out of his grasp. Focusing his concentration he worked to push the ritual on.
Darlome pulled out the sabre from his side and brought it crashing down on the neck of a vampire, taking its head clean off. Darlome calmly put his sword away then he saw a group of seven rather nasty looking vampires waltz in all being headed by Ripper. They charged at Darlome, who raised his fingers in front of his face, closed his eyes and incanted the magical words, “Kal vas impor svft.”
As the magic began to take effect the first vampire’s fist came crashing into the face of Darlome knocking him backwards off his feet; he hit the floor just as the magic took effect. Darlome quickly sprang to his feet and charged towards the vampires. Ripper looked towards Darlome as he fought the group.
“Using that ‘increase your speed’ spell, ey?” Ripper took out a rather large knife from behind his jacket, “Well my friend, it’s not gonna work with me.”
Ripper lunged at Darlome but missed and was met with Darlome’s elbow smashing into his face. Darlome draw his sabre from his side began to thrust and swipe at the seven vampires. The vampires knew how to fight, and they knew how to work together – they encircled Darlome.
“AHHH!!!" Darian screamed in hatred as continued his relentless assault. At one point, he thought he had actually hurt the Ancient, when he landed a strong kick to Dathan’s temple. But Dathan grabbed Darian and bit hard with a maw that covered his entire neck. Only the Dark Fae toughness prevented his head from coming unattached. Dathan sucked once and Darian saw blackness intrude on his sight. Dathan released him and spit a gob of blood on the floor. "Ew, you taste like flower petals, fae."
Dathan's arm shot outwards then, his batlike hand clasping around Darian's throat. "Good bye annoyance, you've interfered for the last time."
Chance saw Darian go down, but a vampire landed in his way screaming and snarling. He looked him up and down. "Oh, please." Ducking under the vampire's punch, Chance twirled and cracked his nightstick on the back of the vampire's head. It fell forward, and Chance continued his spin to plant his stake in the back of his chest.
“Hey, remember me?” Chance asked Dathan, stepping in between the Ancient and Darian. He uppercut the vampire with his nightstick, sending him back a step. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and at least it made him let go of Darian.
“This one’s for making my shit life, which was just getting better, fucking shit again,” Chance roared, hitting Dathan again.
“And this one’s for-“ But Dathan caught Chance’s hand in mid-fall and began squeezing hard.
"You..." grumbled Dathan, "There is a special section of Hell reserved for traitors, Chance. I know you do not fear me physically, but have you forgotten that I know you mystically as well?" Dathan held out a hand and tugged at the barriers that held Dray'chen inside.
Now it was Darian's turn to help the man. Once his head had cleared, the fae rushed to Chance's side, a kicked with all his force, square into Dathan's chest.
“No!” shouted Alessa when she saw what Dathan was doing. *Not again!* she repeated to herself. She ran, turning into her demon form.
"Don't... even... think... about... that..." Chance uttered. "Dray'chen's locked up tight. He ain’t coming out to play any time soon."
Dathan grunted; this spell was much more ingrained than the other one. It required concentration... difficult in the midst of the fray. He hurled Chance across the room in annoyance. Chance tumbled into a group of vampires, both his weapons going flying and all of them tumbling to the floor. He was back up in his feet first, but surrounded. "Oh, fun..." he uttered, just before the first blows began to be traded.
Alessa ran towards the Ancient vampire with all her new strength, only to pivot in the middle of her run to go towards Chance when she saw him land in the middle of a group of vampires. As she got to him, she grabbed the first vampire in the group by his jacket and sent him flying through the air. She just took a second one's head in her hands and ripped it off him, enjoying the look of horror it showed before it dusted in her hands.
Dathan looked around. The fae was still beating himself like a wave against the cliff of Dathan's chest. Dathan stomped and around him vampires, humans, and especially Darian fell back like an earthquake had struck.
On the far side of the room a cluster of mages had neutralized his priest, Nicholas. *Always up to the God to intervene isn't it, Nicholas?* he sent. Dathan waded towards the magic users like the tide.
Chance harnessed more and more of Dray'chen's power, and began moving almost as fast and as strong, faster than these vampires he now faced. Quickly he was surpassing them. It wasn’t the same as Dray’chen – the demon could fight like a, well, demon – but it was bloody close. Chance punched one, kicked another, tripped a third, punched the first again, got kicked in the back, stumbled forwards, was punched, lashed out with his foot and heard it connect, then spun round with his leg up and knocking three down.
It wasn’t long before they dusted the lot between the two of them. In a moment Alessa stood in front of Chance, changing back quickly into her human form again. She took a quick look around, hoping that in the confusion of the battle nobody else had noticed her morphing. Then her eyes locked with Tash's and Alessa felt the heat of a blush suffuse her face.
Rising back to his feet, Darian rushed after Dathan, who was now headed towards the mages. "Not so fast, asshole!" he screamed before turning back into a wolf. The large canine jumped onto the Ancient's back, and bit down hard on his neck.
Dathan's eyes widened as Darian’s fangs penetrated his hide. He snatched the wolf from his neck and flung it haphazardly away like a rag. The form of the wolf slammed painfully into the wall, hitting with a sickening crack. The canine's form shifted back into that of Darian's as it slumped to the ground, broken and unmoving.
Darlome managed to slash one of Ripper’s vampires in the neck but not deep enough – he felt the tip of a blade penetrate his skin and let out an aggravated grunt. He quickly whipped around and swung his sabre at head height, but as the blade closed in on Ripper’s neck he pulled a lesser vampire in front of him so that they would take the full force of the attack. Darlome dropped his sword and stuffed his hand in his jacket pocket, pulling out a small crystal sphere, which he smashed on the ground. Lightning rippled around the area dusting three of the vamps and knocking the rest of them to the ground.
Ripper was first to his feet and Darlome barely had time to deflect a blow to his head, but was met with a boot to the balls and a forehead to his nose. As Darlome crumpled to the floor Ripper stood victorious above him with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I've always loved to kill James’ friends. Now I am killing his best friend; he is so gonna hate me for this.”
Ripper brought the knife down hard upon Darlome’s chest but the knife stopped dead an inch above its target. He struggled with the knife for a few moments before realising it was someone else interfering. Turning to look, he saw Vincent two feet away from him with his hand device glowing.
“Sorry, James,” spoke Vincent as his hand device flared. An orange beam erupted from the crystal and slammed into Ripper’s forehead. “Remember, dammit. Fucking remember who you really are!”
Ripper was on his knees in pain, his almost inhuman demon face changing between demon and human from Ripper to James. Vincent looked at Darlome and nodded. Without missing a beat Darlome took the cue from his partner and chanted the magical words that would let them escape from the battle. “Im porl yel.” With a flash of light James, Darlome and Vincent disappeared from the battle.
Tash’s eyes widened as she watched two of their fighters disappear with one of the Brotherhood’s vampires, leaving her the only one protecting Sorrow. *Goddam them,* she thought furiously, *They’d better have a bloody good explanation for that!* Her crossbow sang as she fired again and again, holding off the tide of vampires that still charged towards Sorrow’s position. She noted with some relief that Chance and Alessa were now working on the same group of leeches, attacking the group from the side. She glanced over her shoulder and caught Sorrow’s eye. *C’mon, Sorrow,* she willed. *What’s taking so long?*
Focusing on the power being wielded, Daye failed to see the vampire sneaking up on her at Nicholas' bidding. The vampire reached the three women and reached out to grab hold of Daye. He pinned the witch's arms to her sides and drew her against his body, preparing to bite. As the vampire lunged at Daye, the connection between the three women was suddenly broken and Nicholas laughed maniacally.
Reah spun about scanning the scene as a vampiress suddenly flew out of nowhere, colliding into her and knocking her to the ground where they grappled. Reah's rifle arm was caught, forcing her to thrust up with her other fist, blades springing out to slash a fatal wound, separating the demoness' head from her neck, "Excuse me." Rolling up to her feet, Reah glanced about again to see where she was most needed and spotted Tash and two others defending Sorrow against increasing numbers.
Turning, Chance smiled his thanks at Alessa, but his face quickly became grimmer as he saw where Dathan was heading, and the number of vampires in between them. The creatures began to close in and encircle them. The two stood back to back, Chance getting another stake out a pocket. "Where's this bloody spell?"
Alaric and Ellie continued their struggle, continuing to exchange blows. The orange demon breathed heavily as he continued to struggle with the girl. *Dammit. I'm too old for this.* Blades collided as they fought, until Alaric made one fierce blow to sever her hand.
Nicholas pulled himself to his full height, feeling his powers returning with every passing second. As Kate, Galen and Zentara frantically fought to prise the vampire from Daye, Nicholas laughed again. He focused on a chandelier that hung high above them, and the crystal shook and rattled noisily as the fixture was wrenched from the ceiling.
Galen looked up moments before the chandelier began to fall, and with all the strength he had he pushed the three women and the miscreant vampire to the floor. Daye landed on top of the vampire with a THUD and the stake she had been holding in her hand met with his heart, turning him into a pile of ash. With a CRASH the chandelier landed on the ground next to them, missing them by mere inches and sending a shower of plaster and dust over the room.
Kate raised an impressed eyebrow at Galen as they all clambered back to their feet. “Twice in one night you saved my life. You’re getting good at this.”
*And something in heart of me is telling me it’s time, To meet the eye o’ destiny, And leave it all behind.* The song ran rather incongruously through Sorrow’s head as the spell finally reached critical mass. Sorrow’s hand stretched out palm upwards. The flor de la virgin appeared and with it a soft gentle glow of pure white light, driving back the vampires. The Elders in the room fell back, shielding their eyes as the light brightened.
Sorrow’s eyes glanced round the room. No longer the observer, his gaze paused on each of the three remaining Elders before moving on. His eyes returned to Valerian and a tight smile pulled at Sorrow’s features. He couldn’t hold this for long, not without releasing it, but he wanted the Elder to know. Sorrow held Valerian’s existence in the palm of his hand and the only reason he did not destroy the vampire where he stood was the woman who stood by his side.
The smile turned into a vicious smirk and Sorrow’s attention moved to Dathan.
”Añónte henói mburuvicha gui tata
Añónte henói haku yvypy
Añónte henói jy tata ypy yvy…”
With awe, Alessa saw how the mburucuyá flower began to glow so brilliantly that she had to narrow her eyes; at the same time she listened to Sorrow chanting the powerful spell. A couple of stanzas went by before she shook her head violently – he was chanting in Guaraní! Her knowledge of the language had enabled her to realize it before it was too late.
The words of the Shaman in the hidden gorge temple came back to her... “Remember that to kill the Ñaña your shaman must be willing to offer the supreme sacrifice. The power of the flower has to be merged with the shaman’s inner fire or the Devil will not be destroyed, and later it must be contained, else the earth will shake and swallow you.”
She had talked to Sorrow about this when he had been preparing the spell, but since the Christian version didn’t imply such sacrifice he had chosen the latter – or so he had made her believe. She now realized that he had never intended to do the milder version.
Sorrow’s eyes fixed on hers and she knew it was too late to stop him. She also knew the consequences if she didn’t act to contain what he was about to unleash. She tried to cry out but her throat was closed; all she could do was grab the hand of the person nearest to her. Tash stopped looking at the magician to turn to her. “What is it?” she asked, surprised by Alessa’s expression.
“It’s the wrong version!” she finally cried, staring deeply into Tash’s dark eyes.
Tash frowned, "What do you mean, wrong version? Won't it work?"
Alessa tore her eyes from Sorrow's form, beginning to shake with the power that was building inside him. "No, no, it'll work. It's just - oh, it's horrible - this is the original. It demands a sacrifice..."
"Sacri..." Tash's eyes widened as the import of Alessa's words struck home. She turned, aghast, and stared with horror and sadness at her friend. "No," she whispered.
Alessa’s urgent tug claimed Tash’s attention back; images of the waterfall’s abyss clear in her mind. “Tash, we need to protect ourselves. Have the witches raise that damn protection ring NOW! It’s too late for anything else!”
Tash turned sharply. "Kate! Daye! Protective ring around him," she gestured to Sorrow, "now!"
The two witches looked at Tash blankly for a second.
"I said now!!" Tash screamed.
Kate and Daye were shaken by the determination in Tash’s command and obediently circled Sorrow along with Zentara’s help, leaving Tash to turn back to face Sorrow, her eyes frantic. There was nothing she could do now for him save bid him goodbye. Tears welled in her eyes as they shared a look that spoke volumes. Her hand half-raised in farewell, Tash nodded slightly at her friend, then watched as he prepared to unleash the destructive force he'd spent so long in gathering.
Daye realized what was about to happen, and her heart cried out at the injustice of it as Kate, Zentara and herself began to raise a barrier to protect everyone else from the destructive forces.
Jade heard the screams issuing from Tash, saw the look exchanged and somehow she knew. "When this is over you'll have choices, Jade. More than you think you have." *No... Oh God, no...* Jade slashed wildly at the heaving crowds around her, fighting for all she was worth to get to her love's side.
"Triiiiiiiis..." Her scream was drowned out in the melee and she knew with a soul-wrenching despair that there was not enough time.
The penultimate line fell from his lips and Sorrow paused and glanced at Tash. She knew, he realised. Well, it was the only way. He was dead – had been from the moment Xavier’s death had been discovered. All that remained was the manner of his demise. His eyes lingered on Jadyn. *Goodbye my love. Fare well; you're free of him now.*
"Nooooooooo..." Blinded by tears she had sworn not to shed, Jade pushed past her vampire cohorts. Her heart could hear him. She knew why he was doing this. *Please, my love... Not this way... I'll do anything if you'll just stay with me. Stay with me, Tristan!*
The power wracking Sorrow's body demanded its release and Sorrow could hold it no longer. *And so it ends. No afterlife for Sorrow – no paradise. Just fire eternal...* He threw his head up and bellowed, "My soul is ready for the flames!"
The power roared through him, lifted him onto tiptoe and exploded outward. Instantly Sorrow turned from a living breathing human into a column of fire. It cascaded upwards, outwards and impossibly in a howl of agony Sorrow's voice cut through the tumult. "Dathaaaaan!"
Frantically Alessa watched the witches raise the protective circle and Sorrow start to shiver with the power of the incantation. Suddenly a figure caught her attention, and with detached eyes she saw a vampire running towards the magic circle. *Fool, he’s gonna be consumed too,* she thought. However the vampire stopped next to the witches and she saw him raise his hands and start chanting the protective spell as well. In his concentration the creature lost his demonic visage and Alessa staggered in shock.
“Morris!” she cried before she could stop herself. Startled out of his trance, the ex-Watcher turned and locked his gaze with hers, as surprised as she was. All seemed to turn to slow motion after that. Morris hissed through his sharpened teeth and sent her a look of such malevolence that she stepped back. Understanding passed as lightning through Alessa’s mind, understanding and pity... but she had no time to linger on this. Sorrow’s figure had started to burn and Alessa’s attention targeted on him.
A single incandescent bolt of flame leapt across the room and immolated the Ancient vampire. Dathan barely began to scream his defiance when the power reduced him to ash. Ash that did not fade, did not settle, but instead hovered there. Burning. The cinders exploded outwards and upwards. Every vampire they touched exploded into yet more flame. Ellie’s shrill scream mixed discordantly with Nicholas' as the spell reached outward and claimed them too. The whirlwind of embers spread through the hotel destroying anything of Dathan's line.
When the hotel was clear the fires exploded upward, scattering across the sky, seeking, hunting for any demon spawned by their first victim. In the ballroom the fire that once had been Sorrow strained against the barrier that Kate, Daye, Zentara and Morris had erected. Their faces bathed in the lurid light, they winced as scream after scream echoed through the room. The flame battered at their shield, ate at the floor, clawed at the ceiling. Almost a living thing, everybody in the room felt its hunger, its sheer wanton need to destroy.
Daye held strong against the overwhelming force before her. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, but she struggled to hold back her grief. Her mourning would have to wait, again, as the more important task before her demanded all of Daye’s attention.
The terrible roar was silenced, the light vanished, flames quenched as suddenly as they had started, and within the circle of protection nothing remained. Not flesh nor bone. Not even ash to mark Tristan's passing.
Jade's knees buckled and she fell to the floor. Valerian's attempts to help his daughter were viciously spurned as she laboured her way towards where Sorrow had been standing. Jade's words were a disjointed chant of prayers, pleas and choked expressions of love; her face a mask of utter desolation and heartbreak.
Finally, the Elder sighed heavily and lifted his hand. The heavy blow against the side of her head knocked Jade unconscious, curbing her struggles and making it easy for Valerian to lift her into his arms.
Tash stared numbly at the gaping hole where her friend had been scant moments before. In the stunned silence that filled the room she lifted her tear-filled eyes to meet Daye's, but Tash had no time to grieve. Not all the vampires in the room were destroyed. Sighing heavily, she lifted her crossbow one more time, only to find that the remnants of the Brotherhood's brood were running, scattering through various doorways as if they could outrun the living flame of destruction.
Daye felt the tears course down her cheeks as the light faded. She saw Tash's grief and felt it mirrored within herself. She too turned to the remaining vampires, thinking how unfair it was that they never seemed to have time to heal, that time and again too great a price was demanded of them.
"God damn you all!" Tash screamed, and gave chase, determined to vent all her grief on as much vampire hide as possible. She disappeared after a group of a dozen or so vampires, but they vanished down trapdoors and stairs. Tash cursed and followed into the labyrinthine tunnels beneath the hotel, but soon lost track of her quarry.
Daye heard Tash's angry roar and felt an answering desire to avenge the loss of her friend. She turned her attention not to the vampires fleeing, but to the demons still standing nearby. Alaric and his kind were responsible in part for all of this. They had helped here, but that did not make up for what price Daye and the others had just paid. They had caused this to be. They should pay an equal share. Someone should make Alaric and his kind pay.
"You... you... MONSTERS!!!" Daye screeched, turning her fury on Zentara. "This is your fault!"
Shaken still by Sorrow’s sacrifice, Alessa looked again to Morris’ place in the magical barrier, but the vampire was already gone. She looked around but saw no sign of him. Gripping her stake strongly she too darted towards the retiring vampires, thinking maybe she could still find him, and almost collapsed against Chance. He looked at her, intrigued by her haunted expression.
Alaric spent the time working his way towards Zentara, watching the various vampires scatter to the winds. The chaos of the event was, he felt, a testament to the Order and its goals. Only the strong would survive. Zentara took several steps back, spreading her wings. "Correct, you are, but spell broken has been. Purpose of Ordo Virtutis, served is."
Daye's fury only grew at the Vulture-like demon’s callous words. "You can take your purpose and shove it!" she shouted, striding forward. "You believe in all this 'survival of the fittest' crap, huh? How about we see just how fit you and your cronies are!"
Kate felt a heaviness inside her heart that resonated with Daye’s bitter words. The Order of Valour had propagated most of this affair and now Sorrow was dead, like Victor, and nothing remained of either except the people they had given their lives to save. Kate could barely find the strength inside to restrain her friend but find it she did.
"Daye," she said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. Kate glared at Zentara and Alaric as he soon joined the sorceress. "The others need our help," she gestured at the injured members of their party. Jessica and another man were both looking pretty bad; they were hurt and needed urgent medical assistance lest they should add to the spiralling body count. "They," Kate said bitterly, narrowing her eyes at Zentara and Alaric, "are not worth expending your energy on."
Kate tugged at Daye's arm once more and finally, reluctantly, the woman assented and went with her to help heal the injured. Daye felt suddenly weary and beaten. For the second time in a matter of weeks she had to accept both the loss of a friend and the fact that there was nothing she could do. Too many lives had been sacrificed already. Too many people shattered by the evil of this world. Sometimes it was hard to see the good they did.
The witches brushed past towards the injured as Reah stood stonily still, silently reflecting on the vacant space where Sorrow, only moments before, had been standing. She hadn't seen him for weeks, hadn't even had a chance to speak to him at all that day when she finally did see him... And now he was gone... forever. She didn't even have the chance to say goodbye. And yet, she felt nothing... she couldn't cry. Her body screamed for blood and vengeance, but she just wanted to weep and mourn. But nothing came. Only the slightest tickle at the bridge of her nose, then it was gone. "Sorry, mate."
Cole walked over to where Chance and Alessa stood, and simply plopped himself on the floor. "Is it over?"
Chance looked down and nodded at Cole, rubbing his ribs where they were sore. He had come down off of his high, provided by adrenaline and Dray'chen's power. He was even starting to shake. "Yeah, it's over. At least, I think it is..." Chance added, trailing off as he looked at Alessa. "I'm willing to bet that there's not a single vampire left anywhere in the building, so you can drop the stake now."
Alessa looked stared at Chance but didn’t really see him, then she looked down at the stake in her hand. “I… I… you are right,” she said, “It’s just that…” She shook her head and gazed into his concerned eyes again. She wasn’t going to tell him about Morris, not now, at least. “Nothing, I’m still high strung from all the fighting,“ she said, and smiled weakly at him.
Chance knew there was something else there, something more, but he didn't press. It wasn't time for that yet, not after... after everything that had happened. He smiled, then turned to the position Sorrow had occupied. He hadn't known the man much – at all really – but his final ultimate sacrifice had been enough to earn his eternal respect. He nodded, once, and that was it. Turning, Chance began heading over towards Darian. He had taken barely a few steps before his legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed on the floor. Alessa and Cole both dashed to him.
“Maybe I did it just a tad over the top," he managed to whisper before falling unconscious, exhausted physically and mentally from the strain of tapping into the demon’s power.
Tash leaned against the filthy wall of a tunnel, a heavy silence weighing on her. The vampires she'd chased had eluded her completely and she knew she should go back upstairs, to help with the cleanup. But then she'd have to be in that room. That room where all her friends were. All her friends save one. "Oh, Sorrow," she whispered into the dark. "I wish there had been another way."
Tears rolled down her face as she turned and slogged back to the ladder she'd climbed down, and with an effort of will she forced herself back into Hell. She followed the trail of mud and blood back to the ballroom and surveyed the chaos within. Voices were subdued and movements slow. She joined Daye and touched the woman's shoulder. "Need a hand there?" she gestured to Jess' form.
The two demons observed the humans tending to their wounded comrades. They did put Alaric in mind of the Order: able to make temporary alliances, bound through ties of loyalty to their own. "I suspect we've not seen the last of these humans," Alaric said. "It would be simplest to destroy them now, but I gave them my word. It's time to leave."
Zentara nodded, reaching into her robes to withdraw two spherical devices. She handed one to Alaric before twisting the two halves of it. Mystical energies activated within, as Zentara vanished in a swirl of energy. Alaric took one final look to observe the humans. He wanted to remember them well. The Order had made some enemies today. Tash glanced in his direction with a look of hatred on her face. He smiled, activating his own orb before vanishing as well.
"We just need to get them to a hospital now, I think," Daye said. Her voice was hoarse from the screaming, her tone defeated from the loss. "There's nothing else we can do for them."
Daye moved aside to allow Tash to lift Jessica off the floor and then she followed her friend out of the hotel. When they stepped out into the sunlight, Daye lifted her face to the heavens and let the tears freely course as she thought about all they had left behind. Without looking back, they all walked away in silence.
Season Three - July 1, 2006 to Oct 31, 2006
Tuesday, 31st October 2006 – 7pm
Tash stumbled up the stairs longing for the oblivion of her own bed. Gore dripped from her torn shoulder leaving a messy trail up the hallway and she wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep, and to try to erase from her mind’s eye all that she’d witnessed today. She had a feeling that the sight of Sorrow erupting into a column of fire was something she’d never forget, however. It was, she laughed hollowly, burned into her memory. But as she passed the familiar second floor hallway, instead of continuing up something drew her down the corridor until she faced the door to apartment 202.
The door opened to Tash’s touch and she gazed at the dusty interior, undisturbed for nearly four months now. Everywhere she looked she was reminded of Victor. Today she missed him more than ever. Her gaze fell on the artefacts scattered carelessly about, the paperwork that overflowed from the desk, and the computer he hated so much sitting proudly in the middle of it all.
She entered and trailed her hand absently over the surfaces as she entered the flat that Victor had once lived in before he converted it to an office. She found the radio and turned it on, letting the voices of an ad drone on in the background as she surveyed her husband’s old domain. She slumped in his favourite chair and stroked the figurine of Bastet that perched on the stand next to it. She had often seen him sitting just like this, holding that same figurine as he thought through some issue or other. Through the soft leather of her gloves she could feel the contours of the cat’s shape and longed to touch it directly, to reconnect with Victor in some small way. She wanted so much to feel something – her heart felt completely dead.
Then the haunting strains of an Evanescence song came on the radio and she stopped to listen, feeling the words touch her spirit…
My Immortal
(Takes a few seconds to download...)
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all of my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
Because your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me
You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
But now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I’d fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I’d fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me
The song finished, and Tash bowed her head over the small statue she held and wept like she’d never stop.