***WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 1 2006 – The Order of Valor HQ, South Pasadena***
It had taken Aimes Carmichael a long time to find this, the secret headquarters of The Order of Valor's infamous 'Five'. Aimes had to hand it to them, as he stood in the generic looking kitchen of the suburban bungalow, it was the last place he had thought to look for the motley crew of demons.
In fact he chuckled to himself, feeling a slight flutter of excitement shudder through his body at the thought of what was about to come. Alaric was a wily demon, it took such character traits to survive as long as he had.
Alaric tossed the last of several different changes of clothes in a suitcase before shutting it and moving it out to the hall. Disappearing for a few weeks or months seemed like a prudent move to him. Even though the chances of them finding his headquarters were unlikely, it was not a chance to be taken at this juncture. There were just too many variables, people looking for revenge - such random displays of emotion were difficult to predict.
He moved through the house collecting various weapons, and stopped when he thought that he heard something. Reaching behind his back he pulled out a six inch dagger with which to defend himself if anyone was present. When he saw the man - or rather, demon in glamour - he relaxed a bit and put the weapon away. "Carmichael, you devious scoundrel. I was wondering when you would try to get in touch with me ever since I heard the Ministry was in LA."
Aimes smiled widely. *Trust Alaric to see through such facades,* he thought without worry. "I’ve been a bad host I know, I should have called on you sooner but I got the impression you were busy. I, as always, am in no hurry.”
He eyed the demon's suitcase with speculation. "Going somewhere, Alaric?" Carmichael took several steps towards his demonic acquaintance; several centuries of bad blood ran between them. More specifically it ran between their opposing organisations but all that was beside the point. "I should really congratulate you on your latest coup. Brilliant work old man, simply brilliant."
"Thank you, Carmichael. I can't tell you how much your approval pleases me." The sarcasm was quite evident in Alaric's voice, since both knew that they had a simple arrangement. The Order and the Ministry stayed out of each other's way, and they got along fine after that. "If you will pardon me, however, I have something of a trip to make. These things are always a mess when we have to become directly involved."
"Don't tell me you're afraid of those mortals!" laughed Aimes, unable to control his mirth. "My, how the mighty have fallen when the great Alaric is driven out of town by a rag-tag bunch of vampire hunters."
Carmichael pulled out a chair and offered it to the orange demon before sitting down in a chair himself. "I have a proposition for you my friend something I think you might be interested in. I'm afraid your trip might have to wait, though."
Alaric preferred to remain standing, since he was not about to allow someone else to dictate when he would sit down in his own house. "You have not been watching this 'rag tag group of hunters' for the past two years. I have." He held out a finger as he ticked off accomplishments. "Thus far to my knowledge they have killed an Ancient Vampire, an Elder Vampire, prevented the return of a Dark Goddess, and successfully battled a splinter-group lead by an Elder of Sindell." He sighed. "At the very least, however, I can listen to your offer."
Carmichael smiled cordially as Alaric propped himself against the breakfast counter, deliberately ignoring the chair he had offered. "It would be a grave mistake on your part if you continued to believe that the Ministry's interest in this little situation you have here in Los Angeles is in any way less comprehensive than your own. The Ministry is always-"
"Always watching and always waiting, yes I know," said Alaric with a roll of his eyes, "After the past three centuries I think you should get yourselves a new motto!"
Carmichael decided not to rise to the bait set out by Alaric; the two demons had many differences but now was a time to unite for a common cause. "Patience is a virtue," he said simply in response, “I think you of all people would appreciate that. But I didn't come here to compare company philosophy, Alaric, but to offer you an opportunity. What if I said that a great battle was approaching? One that would be the ultimate fight against good and evil."
Alaric stopped at that. The Ministry was far from religious, but that did not mean the metaphors did not stick. And it was obvious to anyone who was long-lived that humans and demons would one day fight a last war for survival. That was the reason he called this time by the Norse name 'Ragnarok' - it was the time of a final battle, between the Gods and the Etins. "I would say that this battle has been approaching for a long time."
Aimes looked satisfied that his words had such an effect on the demon. It would all work to his advantage if he was going to ensure The Order of Valor's complete and unequivocal co-operation in the coming months.
"I believe that day to be fast approaching, the Ministry are certain of it. We would like your co-operation in assuring our mutual place in such a battle when it finally does occur. We need to stand together in this; there is no other way. Not if we are all to survive." The man straightened out his tie and held a hand out in front of himself, admiring the perfect manicure. "Humans are so fickle, their appearances, so vain. Not one will ever see this coming and they'll be powerless to stop it." He looked up, their eyes locking for a moment. "We have plans..."
Alaric was impressed, but not without some concern. He saw no reason to rush the end of the world, since it would come in time. But he could also smell the opportunity. "People always have plans," he said. "Suck the world into hell, burn it in fire, reassemble ancient artefacts. Someone is always seeing it coming.”
He held up a hand to cut off Carmichael's protest before it even started. "However, the Ministry does have enough resources that perhaps you might be able to pull it off when someone does try to stop you. Which raises the question: why do you need my help?"
Aimes could sense Alaric's reserve but it didn't concern him. All that mattered was that he co-operated, Aimes needed him on side rather than stoking the fires of the opposition. This latest situation with the Brotherhood had only made that fact all the more poignant.
"You have influence, contacts - you know the lay of the land, as it were. This is also something that concerns you. If you're really interested in Survival of the Fittest, what better way to find out just who that is?" Aimes cleared his throat, rising to get a glass of water from the kitchen sink. "For obvious reasons the Ministry's presence in Los Angeles cannot be known at this moment, therefore we require someone else to perform certain 'errands' for us in the meantime."
"And of course, you also get a front man if that 'rag tag group of hunters' discovers what is going on." Carmichael did not even flinch when this was said; though that was certainly part of the thought process. "I'm not stupid, you know. Perhaps you should tell me what sort of 'errands' we are talking about."
"I think you'll find them simple enough," he laughed briefly, "and don't worry about this so-called resistance. I can promise you they'll have more pressing matters to attend to; I doubt they will even notice what's going on right under their noses."
He took another sip from his glass of water. "Why Alaric, I think you might even have fun in all of this, give you a chance to get out of your Ivory Tower and back to grass roots. I can tell you, these last few months have been an inspiration for me, London is such a drab little city this time of year." Aimes could tell Alaric was growing impatient though, time to reel in the subterfuge. "If you're interested I think we can arrange some sort of recompense for your time and effort... why don't you unpack and we can discuss this further?"
The demon thought about the offer carefully, his final consideration that Carmichael felt he needed the demon's help bad enough to track him down at his own headquarters. Still, there would be precautions to be taken. "Very well, Carmichael,” he said finally. “Let's do that."
With much thanks to Adam for writing the part of Alaric
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Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
November 17th
night
Alessa stood by the kitchen sink; she absently cleaned cups and saucers as she looked out the window. Her eyes were intently scanning the darkness outside. It wasn’t the first time her keen eyes noticed something in the patio, a movement, a shadow. She had even left her home once or twice, but hadn't found anything or anyone. There was no doubt in her mind, though. She was sure it was Morris, although she hadn't seen him since the night in the club. Alessa shook her head and stopped with her futile delusions of cleaning. She was startled when she heard footsteps tap on the hard wood floor.
“What are you watching?” Chance asked, putting his hands on her waist and looking out of the window through the nook of her shoulder.
Alessa dropped the saucer into the sink and wrapped his hands with hers; she turned and faced Chance. A seductive smile slowly broke out on her face. “I’m watching a handsome man,” she said.
Chance smiled back at her, but immediately frowned. There was something she wasn’t telling him, he was sure of it. It wasn’t the first time she had deflected his questions like this.
Alessa brushed stray strands of hair from Chance’s forehead. Gradually he was going back to his past self, at least with her. However, this time he gently pushed her hand away from him.
“No, you don’t,” he answered, and Alessa frowned at the expression in his face. “What is it, Alessa? What aren’t you telling me?”
Alessa turned back towards the window, biting her lip as she did when worried. She hadn't told him about Morris yet, hadn't wanted to worry him; he had enough worries as it was. She sighed again. She couldn’t hide it forever though, and if Morris was half as powerful as she suspected she wouldn’t be able to face him alone.
“It’s Morris,” she said.
Chance waited until it became clear she was not going to go on. His face grew more concerned, but also… grim. “Morris. You mean your ex.” It was not a question. “He’s back? Great…”
Alessa was surprised. That was it? Just, “Great”? From all his possible answers she had never expected this, but then… men! He didn’t ask, “How come?”, didn’t say, “But he’s dead!” Nooo just, “Great”. Alessa pressed her lips in annoyance.
“He’s a vampire. I saw him again in the Hyperion when Sorrow died. Then I’ve been seeing him around once and again, never for too long… just glimpses of him. I think he’s been watching me.”
The words blurted out of her mouth. She hadn’t planned on telling him like this, but she was mad at him. She turned and started washing the dishes again with such force that she broke a glass against the hard porcelain of the basin. She cursed when a piece of glass cut her hand, blood running from the wound. She felt her eyes fill of tears as she took a paper towel to restrain the blood.
Chance darted forward to help Alessa, and enveloped her in a warm hug as they saw to the wound. “I’m, I’m sorry. It’s just…” he trailed off, lost for words. “It’s just… your evil ex is back from the dead stalking you. Why not? I bet the odds of that happening are pretty small, but once again Lady Luck’s being a bitch. And it’s not like we were only just starting to have a good time again…”
Lady Luck. At that she had to grin; he was right, la diosa fortuna, as she called her, hadn’t been a real lady lately. Her anger subsided as she watched him clean her cut, maybe she was being unfair to him, but…
“Morris wasn’t evil, Chance. He was a good man," she paused, "but he’s a vampire now. That’s why I left the stake at the memorial. He had given it to me, and now I have to stake him...” She stopped as tears threatened to appear again, “And he was at the Hyperion too…”
At his confused look Alessa explained. “Remember the power surges? He’s probably had his share of them. He was a good magician. Now…”
“Of course, the power surges.” Chance straightened. “Well, he’s not the only one who’s had a boost, remember.” He wiped her tears away with his thumb. “Look, I know you loved him, and I know how much this will destroy you. Trust me, I’ve had more than enough experience of having to kill somebody you love.” His eyes unfocused and stared at some distant point as he talked, before snapping back again.
“It happens surprisingly more than you’d expect… And I won’t see you go through what I’ve seen others go through. I won’t let you tear yourself up inside trying to destroy him, just as you didn’t let me.” A cold determination passed across Chance’s face and stayed there. “So I’m going to do it for you.”
Alessa’s head snapped up. She stared at him; he was serious. She hadn’t thought of him killing Morris. It was her job to do it. She shook her head, still watching him. “We’ll do it together,” she said. “I know he’s not the Morris I knew any more, and unlike you, he can’t be saved. We’ll do it together,” she repeated.
He sighed. She could be stubborn sometimes, but then again, so could he. “If that’s what you want… then that’s what we’ll do.” But honestly, Chance wasn’t so sure. “Together.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
November 26th, 2006
11:53 PM. Dark streets of LA.
Walking the rough streets of a bad end of LA, Chance was focusing hard. He was searching, patrolling… Hunting.
With Dray’chen inside him he could use the demon’s sixth sense to his own advantage; finding vampires and demons. And introducing them to Mr Pointy, in the case of the former, and Mr Sword, in the case of the latter. Both were very sociable and liked to… meet… new ‘people’.
One in particular. Morris.
Chance took a sadistic pleasure in using Dray’chen like this, twisting its powers to good. But he had to concentrate to use them, or they would slip from his fingers like water. That’s why, for the same reason, he was also carrying, concealed in his back of course, Mr Sword, aka Dray’chen’s blade.
The fact that he had picked it up and walked out with it without realising it until several blocks into his patrol was neither here nor there…
Concentrating on finding the “bumps in the night” the hunter paid very little attention to the others who shared the dismal streets with him. However, the reverse could not be said; to the young teen following close behind, Chance was definitely something to take notice of.
*Hey, easy target,* the kid thought as he quickened his pace to catch up. Moving ever faster, the teen was practically jogging when he intentionally bumped into Chance, his crafty, nimble fingers slipping in and out of his target’s pockets unknown.
“Sorry sir,” he said apologetically, pretending his nudge was an accident. *What a chump.*
“Hey no problem-” Chance said, but then broke off as he noticed that something was missing… what was it? There was a weight missing from his pocket. Weapons? No… Wallet. Damn kids.
When he looked round, all he saw of the kid was him disappearing round a corner. Muttering curses, Chance set off in pursuit. There wasn’t much money in his wallet, but that wasn’t the point.
The kid could hear footsteps coming close and closer behind him. *Aw Christ, how did the guy know?* Without looking back, he broke from a brisk walk into a full out run.
“Hey, get back here kid,” he heard the man cry from behind, his voice alarmingly close.
*Man, is this guy a fricken Olympic sprinter? He runs like a cheetah.* The teen only had a little further to go before he could slip into a dark alley and disappear into the abandoned building his friends and him stayed in. *CRAP!*
A strong hand finally caught hold of the boy's shoulder, halting his dash for safety.
“Let go of me!”
“Umm… let’s see. No. Not until you give me my wallet back,” Chance said, keeping a firm hold on the kid despite his struggling.
“Let him go,” came a strong, confident voice from behind the pair.
Still holding onto the erstwhile pick-pocketer, Chance turned in direction of the voice. Who he saw made his jaw drop. “Cole? That you?”
“Chance?” Cole’s assured tone had quickly faded into a mix of fear and surprise. “Jake, give him back his wallet and go home ok. I'll be back soon.”
“Yeah fine,” the kid replied taking out Chance’s wallet and handing it back. “Sorry man, I didn’t know you were a friend of Cole’s,” he said before running off into an alley.
Once Jake was out of sight, Cole turned to his friend, “What uhh, what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? What am I doing here?” Chance stuttered, carefully putting his wallet away. “What the hell are YOU doing here? Hanging out with thieves and pick-pocket’s? And you look terrible.”
“Yeah well, things haven’t been really super recently. I’m glad to see you’re doing ok,” he replied in a rather ambiguously icy tone. “So I guess you’re out hunting or something?”
“Yeah…” Chance frowned in concern. Something wasn’t right with the kid. “Look, Cole, you ok? I mean, we haven’t heard from you since the Hotel. Everything all right?” He took a step forward.
To Chance’s surprise, Cole took a step back in response to his advancement. “Honestly Chance, what do you care?”
Chance was left speechless. “Why do I- ? What type of dumb-ass question is that? Of course I care…”
For a second, the boy’s face softened, but almost instantly reverted back to a stone cold gaze. “You care?” the boy chuckled sarcastically. “Did you ever think what it was like for me after we left the Hyperion a few weeks back?” The boy’s body began to shake as he unleashed the pent up anger he had been carrying. “I couldn’t even close my eyes for a second without seeing his face. Do you remember how close Dathan came to killing me? If it weren’t for that wolf… guy… whatever, I'd be dead now”. His voice began to crack, but he forced himself to go on. “But where were you after that Chance? You and Alessa? I know you guys had stuff to deal with and you both had your own issues, but you couldn’t take two minutes to come see how I was doing!?”
Chance blinked. He blinked again. He couldn’t believe this. Surely it was just the hormones talking, but he was a guy pumped full of more than enough of the buggers himself, and once he got his blood up… “How dare you? Do I remember how close Dathan got? Yes I bloody well do. Have you any idea about the guilt I go through about that? How dare you ask me if I remember!?
"I remember every night how you nearly died and I was helpless, along with how I was helpless to save all those people I murdered. You’re having problems? I’m sorry kid, but what you’re going through doesn’t even compare. The world doesn’t revolve around you, especially when you up and vanish for weeks. How are we supposed to check on you when we don’t know where you are?”
“Oh right, forgive me - I didn’t leave you my new address when I got kicked out of my apartment. Oh wait, I don’t have an address! You know what, Chance? Forget it,” he said as he started to leave. However, before he made it two steps, a small plastic bag fell out of his coat pocket. Although he scurried to pick it up, it was too late; Chance had already taken notice of its contents.
“DRUGS!?!” Chance shouted. Of course he was able to tell what was in the little bag. He’d seen it a lot in the backstreets of the cities of the world during his brief tenure, and Matthew had run across a fair few too. Not that either had taken any. One was too wise, the other didn’t need drugs. Chance had been on a high of another sort; revenge.
“Cole, what the hell are you doing? You’re taking drugs now? A joint here and there I’m impartial to, but this is hard shit, kid. You got any idea what kind of crap they mix in with this stuff?” He grabbed the bag off the ground before Cole could get it.
The teen glared up at his friend angrily, trying hard to mask his shame. “Just give it back so I can leave, ok?”
“Ohh… I don’t think so, Cole. Firstly, I want you to tell me just what you were doing with this, and then I’m gonna get rid of it. Trust me, it’s for the best. I’ve seen plenty of guys get addicted to this crap and then all sorts of shit goes wrong with them.”
“You’re not my fucking father, Chance,” Cole fumed as a tear threatened to trickle from his eye. “It's mine and I want it back!”
Chance sighed and shook his head sadly. “Aww… jeez, look what it’s done to you already. No, I’m not your father. But I’m a good friend who cares about you and doesn’t want you to be swallowed up by this stuff.” He shook the bag for emphasis.
Cole couldn’t hold back the tear any longer; Chance’s words had hit a chord. Deep down he knew that he had no right to have yelled at Chance, but he couldn’t help the way he felt. Now, even after he screamed and bitched, Chance was still just trying to watch out for him.
“Just… Just leave me alone, and stay out of my life,” he managed to get out as he rushed off in the direction Jake had left earlier.
“Cole, wait!” Chance called to his friend. He started to chase after, but an invisible force impaired his movement; it was as if he was trying to walk through a wall of tar.
Cole turned slightly and saw that his spell had worked; Chance would not be able to track his movements. For a brief instant, the teen’s eyes made contact with Chance’s. No longer were they filled with childish anger and rage, but rather fear and sorrow. He regretted the hurtful things he had said, but it was too late now, what was done was done. Cole turned his back on his friend without another word, and disappeared into the closest alley.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Previously on LABN:
· Tyler Hyatt arrives in LA, on the trail of Ryan Michaels
· Hyatt kills Sandra Ellis for a crystal and brings it to Paul, only to have Paul force another job out of him
· Denny Elbourn meets Trey Scott and Allen Harrison at LAX
· Tyler comes up shooting at the Port of Los Angeles
· Hyatt takes a second crystal from a dead Balance agent, before killing a woman he runs into while walking away.
· Collin Braddock tortures a dying shaman for information
· Paul directs Hyatt to Poplar, where Scott and Harrison have been surveiling
· Hyatt learns the fate of Ryan Michaels
Featuring:
Stellan Skarsgard as Collin Braddock
Barry Pepper as Wilson Merdano
Scott Marsden as Ryan Michaels
Balance Headquarters, Dallas Texas
November 1, 2006
12:08 am
Allen Harrison reclined in the folding chair he’d been given on the assembly hall stage and stared out into the audience, impressed.
“It’s not every day a man gets to sit and look out at nearly a thousand sets of eyes.” Harrison spoke under his breath, and kept scanning those eyes. When he tired of that, Harrison moved to their hair, trying to pick out the wigs in the crowd, anything to keep from looking at his partner, who was currently wearing the treads out of his Doc Marten wingtips pacing in a six foot loop.
“Christ, Trey, would you sit down? You’re making me tired.”
Scott, Harrison’s partner and apprentice, turned and all but charged the older man. “Making you tired? For fuck’s sake Allen, is that all you’re worried about?”
“What else is there?” Allen didn’t turn his head, but kept scanning the crowd, the very picture of calm.
“What else? You said it yourself, the entire company has never been called back at once be…”
“Since you know I said it, why do you need to tell me?” Harrison glared at Scott, impatience swallowing him.
“Because you know what’s going on and you’re not saying anything.” Scott was being insulting now.
“No, I don’t. Sit down.”
Scott opened his mouth, intent on a retort, but Dickinson walked out from the right, and the company as a whole stood in greeting as Collin Braddock entered, covered in the finest of fabrics woven into a black suit. But Harrison’s eyes didn’t linger there. They moved to the man behind him, in the black slacks, red dress shirt and black knee length coat.
Harrison knew him as Wilson Merdano, and feared him instinctively. So his eyes stayed there as Collin took his position center stage.
“Be seated.” As Collin spoke, the entire company sat in unison, save for Merdano, who stood behind the boss. Collin stood easy, and faced the crowd.
“Two years, gentlemen. It has been two very long years since the situation in Los Angeles went to shit. Two years, and we have finally cleaned up the mess.” Collin finished and waited a moment, as the crowd lit up with applause. “Shut up. It’s taken us two years to scour the Alhambra area, and be sure our presence was unnoticed. Two years, to be absolutely sure there were no remaining security leaks from the string of frantic fuck ups that started in September, 2005. Two years, and we can finally rest easy, knowing our activities remain unknown to the public.” Collin began to pace, looking out at the crowd.
“Two years, and we have finally made sure that there will be no investigation into the incident at the Port of Los Angeles, and we can now begin to track the man responsible for the deaths of Anna Farris, Richard Gregory, Carlos Maldonado, Tim Flick, and Denny Elbourn.”
Harrison saw Merdano smirk as Collin stopped his pacing, directly in front of Scott and himself. And Harrison was afraid. “And you applaud. You pretend that his is a good thing. You forget, so quickly, that the majority of our resources had to be diverted to this. You forget that this man is already gone, and that in those two years, we have left no less than six security risks unchecked, and been forced to let an apocalypse pass unattended. For two years, we have dealt with loss, and pain, all to cover the asses of two men.”
Collin turned to the men on stage and sneered. “Stand up.”
Harrsion and Scoot snapped to attention, not seeing Merdano circling behind them, and listened as Collin continued. “These men before you were given a simple task, one each and every single one of you must do before your position is solid. They were to sit on a Majestic agent, track him, and kill him. But they couldn’t even get the right building. And so, for two years, we have ignored our task. Consequences must be paid.”
Without another word, Collin reached beneath his jacket and drew his gun, a Sig Sauer 228 two-tone, and shot Harrison in the heart. The elder agent stood a moment, aghast, before falling. With Harrison’s back on the ground, Collin stepped over him and proceeded to unload his gun. At the first Shot, Scott drew a Desert Eagle, only to have it knocked from his hand by Merdano and thrown over the chairs. Just as quickly, Scott found himself staring down a Heckler USP, 45 compact. Merdano fired, and Scott died.
When it was done, Collin turned to the crowd, none of whom had moved.
“Hear this now. Los Angeles is ground we only allow our best to tread for a reason. Every mistake there costs us too much to allow. But it seems we will have considerable business there in the near future, so you need to get your acts together. If you do not…” Collin stretched his arms to his sides and spun a half circle.
“It will be you on this stage. Orders will be given within the hour. Return to your stations.” Collin turned to Merdano. “You, with me.”
Another place, Another time
Tyler Hyatt stepped off of the stairs and into the hall, hugging the wall to his left. His gun, also a Sig Sauer two-tone, found its way into his hand, and Tyler held it out, sweeping. He ducked into the first room on the right, finding nothing but air. Still Tyler stepped further in and took his measure before making his way back to the hall. Going back up, Tyler came to a door and kicked it in, entering the room, to see a shadow cast upon the wall.
The shadow of eight men.
Tyler swept right, and the men turned to reveal their faces. However, those faces immediately changed, developing nasty bumps. Tyler sprinted back down the hall and under the stairs. As he descended, he grabbed his comm unit, radioing his partner.
“Ryan! We’ve got…” Tyler was cut off by the sound of suppressed gunfire. So he jumped the rest of the stairs and ran down another hall, kicking in the first door and ducking in.
On the other side, Tyler found himself in a field of poppies and lowered his gun to his hip. He stepped into the field, face mired in confusion. Wary, he proceeded forward until the noise of the warehouse had dissipated.
“You really shouldn’t do that.” Tyler whirled at the voice, aiming and squeezing off a shot from the Sig. “Walking around with a dumb look on your face. Especially in a damn open field.” A man stood from amid the poppies, a cocky fucking smile on his face. He was dressed in black jeans, a black shirt and a long, flowing overcoat. His face was young, impossibly so.
The very sight of him had Tyler lowering his gun.
“Ryan?” Tyler’s confusion grew as Michaels nodded. “You’re dead.”
“Not exactly. I was this.” Ryan flashed his game face for a second, twirling in it. “Now I’m this.” Ryan blew on his right hand and watched, as his pinky blew away in dust, only to re-gather. “It’s quite a predicament.”
“How… why… how?” Tyler’s befuddlement was growing by the second.
“Don’t you know poppies bring everything to life?” Ryan asked, making Tyler frustrated. “Really how the hell should I know? This is your dream.”
“Ah.” Tyler holstered his gun and started walking toward his friend.
An abandoned church, somewhere outside of LA.
October 31, 2006
11:57 pm
Tyler rolled into the back of the pew, lying under his coat. Sleep, for such men, is never peaceful, and for Tyler, it is worse.
It always is for men with murder on their conscience.
Balance HQ
Merdano shut the door to Collin’s office, listening to his boss. It was a never ending joy for the lesser agent to listen to the man rant. So he stood at the door and watched Collin pace and mutter, just audibly, about the men he’d just killed.
“Mother lovin’ butt screwing idiot. The wrong building, do you believe that? They were watching the wrong f... The wrong building. We’re supposed to be the best, for God’s sake.” Collin did four circles out the room, muttering inaudibly now. “Could you believe that, Wilson?”
“No sir,” Merdano said.
“I swear to God, this will be the death of me.” Collin sat behind his desk. “What do you have for me?”
“Well,” Merdano took a seat across from Collin, reclining. “I’ve got six confirmed statements from sources, human and otherwise, that have Hyatt on a train leaving Boston last year. You don’t have a security issue either.”
Collin nodded, expectantly. “Disposal?”
“Handled. Ashes to ashes and the like.” Merdano leaned back in his chair even further, relaxing. “One of those sources, a particularly nasty Fashnik, has him heading to LA, a place called the Beazor. Gotta tell you, I don’t think the timeframe’s coinky-dink.”
“You’re saying that you think Hyatt did the pier job?” Collin was intrigued now.
“How many people do you know who coulda pulled that one off, boss?” Merdano leaned forward now.
“Point taken.”
“So, going on that hunch, I asked around about where someone with a mind to not be found could stay for cheap, and I had Tech pull the phone records.” Merdano leaned back again, smiling broadly.
“Tell me you have Hyatt’s movements in LA, and I’ll promote you.”
“Better. I think I’ve got his wife and kid.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
November 27th
12:30 am
Alessa was following Chance through the darkened street. She was doing something really unusual for her, she was hunting vampires. She hadn’t done so since the time she was looking for Morris’ murderers. She looked at Chance in front of her; he was walking casually. However, she knew that all his senses were alert to the minimal sign of vampire activity. She shook her head. Well, at least she was doing “something”.
Since she had “resigned” her post at Centennial she had gone to several other schools, but although her faked curriculum was sound enough, word had travelled around about her involvement on her school’s attack. It didn’t matter that she had actually saved the children by having the attacker follow her, no way another school would hire her. Money wasn’t a problem now that her banking was in order, but she wasn’t used to the inactivity.
It was torture to stay at home, she was used to go out and have other things in her mind. When she nagged at Chance for leaving the closet doors open she realized that she couldn’t go on like this. She needed to work. She needed some activity, at least.
So here she was now, vampire hunting. She had followed Chance’s scent and had finally found him. She gripped the stake strongly in her hand and whispered, “Chance?”
The voice. The one that called to him in the desert. Chance spun round surprised, even going as far as raising the sword. Then he saw who it was, and the weapon swung down instantly. Just as quickly, he realised the voice wasn’t the same.
“Alessa!” Chance cried. He hadn’t heard or felt her approach. His encounter with Cole must have been more shocking than he thought. “Love, you scared the pants off me. What are you doing here?”
Alessa gulped. With a shiver of fear she realized that he'd stopped an attack before she'd noticed, he was so much faster now. Her eyes slid sideways, staring at his poised arm and sword. Yes, had to figure that would've hurt. She tried to manage a smile.
"Not a good way to call you, I see,” she said.
He smiled, also uneasy of what could have happened. "No, not really, pet. What are you doing here?” he asked again, conscious of her eyes on the sword.
“I… I needed to get out, and I figured I could help you. Hunting vampires, I mean,” she added, still a little shaky. *Where the hell did he get that sword?* With an effort she tore her eyes from the weapon to look at him. She gave him a dubious smile. “Mind the company?”
"Not at all. Sure," he said, and inwardly he sighed. Disaster averted, at least for now. Actually, he wasn't sure of much tonight, but he was certain he wasn't ready to explain the sword yet.
Alessa looked closely at him. She was learning to read his moods, and there was something more than his almost hitting her with that… thing; she shivered as she looked at the sword again. And it wasn’t like him to be caught unawares like that. “What is it, Chance?” she asked.
He breathed heavily, and she could tell by the shift in the muscles of his face that he was about to tell her something she wouldn't like to hear.
“I just ran into Cole, before you came along.”
“Oh? How is he?” Alessa asked, although from Chance’s look she was afraid of the answer.
“Not good. Not good at all.” He stopped and turned to her. “He’s on drugs. And I mean little bags of the hard stuff. Totally addicted, or at least that’s how it looked to me. He’s been kicked out of his apartment, and is running with street kids. Pick-pocketers.” Chance snorted, “Last time they pick-pocketed a guy with a sword.”
“Oh my God…” she breathed, unbelieving.
“Yup. And it gets better. He’s in some teenage, hormone-induced little tantrum. He’s alone and afraid, but doesn’t want anyone to get close. Let alone us. He doesn’t even want us to have anything to do with him because he thinks we don’t care about him, as we forgot about him after the Hyperion. Like we didn’t have better things to do…”
“Oh, Chance…” Alessa felt shocked, *Drugs?*, but she felt guilty too. It was true that she hadn’t looked for him. But things had been so complicated after the Hyperion. She had had so many things in her head - Chance, Morris, and Inés’ news, and then Chance coming back - that she hadn’t really thought of the kid.
“But he has to understand… Chance, we have to find him,” she said in earnest, “We can’t leave him like that. Living in the streets, taking drugs… we have to find him!”
Chance shook his head. “That’s the problem. He’s so fucked up he doesn’t want to be found. I mean, we should, yeah, and I intend to try, but with Morris running around and the vamp population on the rise again it’s not like I can devote all my time to looking for him…” He trailed off and saw the look in Alessa’s eyes. “I did say I intend to try…”
Alessa looked at Chance in the eye. There was hurt there, and worry. She could see that he was more troubled than he revealed, even if he didn’t want to show it. She looked around, nodding. She didn’t doubt that he would look for the kid, but she was also certain that if Cole didn’t want them to find him, they wouldn’t. The teen knew the streets, more so now, and he was too good at magic to know how to conceal himself. She sighed. It seemed that things couldn’t just work out for them, every step they took there was a new rock in the way.
“Just have your eyes open, OK? He will come to his senses.” At Chance’s dubious gaze she repeated, “He has to come to his senses. He’s not stupid, and he has to know we care. It’s just that… that…” she made a vague motion with her arms, frustrated. “It’s just too much.”
“I know, love, I know,” Chance said, hugging her. “Cole’s a bright kid. He’ll come round to his senses soon enough.”
“He will, or I’ll make him whenever I see him again! He’s never suffered this teacher’s temper, you know?” she joked to lighten the mood. She had to contain herself not to go look for the kid right then; instead she looked around again. “So, are we going to hunt vampires or not?”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
November 28th
Alessa’s apartment
8:30 pm
It was late when she got home. She had gone to visit Ernie to the hospital again, and she was feeling light-hearted. The doctors had said that he was reacting well; even if he was still in a coma, his EEGs were showing brain activity and they were optimistic about his condition. She had stayed by her friend’s bed until they had asked her to leave.
She wanted to tell Chance the news but when she got to the threshold she realized that he wasn’t home. The house was completely dark; he had probably gone hunting already. Well, she would have to wait to tell him the good news.
As she entered the house she immediately noticed something in the air. A scent. *Roses* she recognized, and smiled. She turned on the lights to see the source of the smell. She followed the scent to the bedroom, and as she had guessed there was a big bouquet of red roses on the bed. Alessa’s face broke in a big smile.
“Oh, love!” she said as she hid her face into the fresh fragrance of the flowers. Red roses were her favorites since he had said that red complimented her dark looks. Still smiling she looked around for a card, instead there was a little envelope where the flowers had been. She took it and before opening it she felt the shape inside with her hands, *a ring?* Intrigued she tore the envelope apart to take the ring… and she froze, her fingers letting go of the jewel as burned.
Clink, clink, clink…
The sound of the ring clinking on the hard wood floor was deafening, and she had to fight not to put her hands to her ears to stop it from sounding.
The Ring.
It was His Ring.
She stood still for what seemed like hours, just looking at the spot where the ring had rolled under the night table. When she finally could move again, she walked to her jewel case on the bureau, with trembling fingers she sorted the few items it contained until she found what she was looking for. It was a ring too. Her ring. Just a trinket really, a thin band of agate, a common semi-precious stone in Paraguay. Hers was of a ferric color with white steaks. His had been black with gray. No, not had been, was. She had given it to him to celebrate their tenth year together… when? Thirty years ago?
She looked at the table again, and kneeled to search the ring. She had to almost get to the floor to reach it, her fingers numb when she finally took it. She leveled the ring to her eyes to inspect it. She realized then than it wasn’t really his ring, just an imitation. This one wasn’t agate… it looked more like onyx. Her hand fell to her lap again. *Pretty similar still.* she thought, enough to deliver its message.
Morris had been in her house.
But… how could it be? Morris was a vampire and he hadn't been invited in…
Still fingering the offending ring, Alessa mentally recited all she knew about vampire’s restriction on human habitations.
“Vampires cannot enter any private human residence without an invitation as long as the owner lives.” she said aloud to clear her thoughts.
Well, she certainly hadn't invited him in! nor had Chance… unless Inés… Alessa shook her head. Inés hadn't lived in her house, she had been just a guest, and as such -even if she had done so- her invitation wouldn’t have worked.
“Vampires cannot enter any private human residence without an invitation as long as the owner lives.” She repeated, like saying a mantra.
Obviously she wasn’t fool enough to have a ‘Welcome’ mat, nor have left a note on the door allowing him, or any other vampire, in. *And I’m certainly live enough!* she snorted.
“Vampires cannot enter any private human residence without an invitation as long as the owner lives.”
Standing up, she started to check all the windows and doors of the house, they were all locked, there didn’t seem to have any forced entrance… but for the bathroom window that was slightly ajar. Frowning, Alessa took her stake and went out of the apartment. The bathroom window faced the rear of the apartment complex, a little stretch of grass and bushes grew along the wall. With her flashlight to help her she could see that the bushes had been trampled on and that there were scratches on the rough wall, shoe scratches. Definitely that was the place from where the intruder had come in. However the window was too small for a big man *vampire* she corrected herself, like Morris.
“Vampires cannot enter any private human residence without an invitation as long as the owner lives.” she recited once again, the mantra sounding more and more hollow every time she said it.
Unless… human residence... Alessa stopped dead on her tracks, her face bearing a sickly pallor. She wasn’t human… not entirely, at least. “B-but Chance!” she said aloud, shock in her voice. *Chance’s not completely human either.* she answered herself. Her knees weakened and she had to support herself on the apartment’s wall.
“NO!” she said aloud. Never had she doubted on her condition more than then. She knew that demon residences were not protected from vampires… but… “But I’m human enough, you listen!” she cried to the darkness, fury getting to her, her eyes shining red in the night. She didn’t know how Morris had done to put that ring on her bed, but he couldn’t have entered her house.
From the darkness behind her, laughter answered. Whirling, she run towards the familiar sound. Silently and speedily she got to the corner, she could hear him running ahead of her, she was close. She had picked his scent, but it was mingled with another one… a more feminine one.
“Morris!” she cried, too enraged at his intrusion on her house to care about her personal safety. However in the next turn she stopped cold. Someone was waiting for her in the alley, and it wasn’t Morris.
:D Special thanks to Dave for his enlightening post on vampire’s barriers, and Adam for giving me this idea. :wink:
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
28th November
Evening
Bob’s Bar
Why did he always come back here? Why? The bartender was a rat and the customers were, literally, Hell. Indeed, walking in was like walking into Hell itself. He should know. Part of him had been there after all.
There must be about a hundred better places in LA than this. But he was here. Again. *Might as well get it over with.* Taking a deep breath, Chance stepped into Bob’s, preparing himself to not to notice the acid glances that would surely his way.
Adriana walked behind the bar and hung her coat on the coat rack. She inhaled deeply and sighed. She despised her job. *Another day in this hellhole.* Drea, not being a smoker herself, coughed from the looming smoke.
James sat in a darkest corner of the bar and sipped slowly on his blood. With each sip he could feel his stomach ease its never ending thirst for blood. As James tossed down the last of his blood he looked around the bar, scoping the new players. He noticed very few vampires in the bar, two at the most - the rest were demons.
James raised his hand to Bob. "Bob, take my freakin order would ya!"
Just as he finished saying these words he noticed the new waitress Bob had hired. "Hey, darling. Could ya take my order if ya arn’t to busy…"
Adriana smiled at the customer and replied, "Sure, what will you have?" She was a bit nervous. She was far away from Bob, and she, for some odd reason, found comfort from him.
James gave her a wide toothed grin too. "Tell Bob I’Il take another of what I just had and tell him to make it the good stuff this time. Oh, and a bottle of beer. Any beer, it doesn’t matter." James pulled two $20's from his coat and gave the girl both of them and gave his devilish grin, "Keep the change, darling."
Chance strolled right up to the bar itself after one quick survey. Demons. Hmmm… the vampires were coming back. And, was that a werewolf in the corner? Looks like. Rare-
A new waitress.
This was quite shocking. Chance wondered how long she would last.
Poor girl.
Then his attention was focused back on what he had came for. “Bob,” he said once at the bar, “we need to have a chat.”
Adriana slid the $20 bills into her pocket and replied politely, "Sure. Be back in a minute." She walked off the bar. *He seems nice, but why don't I trust him?*
As she walked up to the counter, she saw a tall man standing in front of Bob. "About what, Chancy ol' pal?" she heard Bob say. Drea slipped into the corner near the bar.
“Call me that again,” Chance said, as the new girl slipped into the edge of his vision, “and I can promise you, you won’t live to regret it.” He hoped the hidden threat got across. It did. Bob shrunk slightly. Oh, good. It just wasn’t fun trying to be witty with morons like your day to day vampire. “Now, you know the drill. You tell me what I want to know, you get to keep your bones intact. We’ve done it before, let’s keep the tradition going. I don’t want to have to punch you again… Even though you do deserve it for luring me into that trap. You don’t think I’ve forgotten that do you? You help me out here, and I just might…”
Bob began to sweat. Seeing Chance always made him tense. He swallowed hard and replied, "Sure, sure. You got it. I've been good lately. I swear."
“Great. Well. Morris. Vamp in town. Was at the Hyperion battle.” Chance cocked his head. “I bet you had a field day with that huh?”
Adriana was horrified. She forgot how weak she was. Drea went behind the bar and shakily told Bob, "Customer in the corner... he wants the same drink, make it good, and give him any kind of beer."
Bob, knowing she was referring to James, quickly made the order and placed it on a tray. Adriana picked up the tray and walked to the corner. She smiled and said, “Here you go.”
James took the blood and tossed back his head and downed it in one mighty gulp. He looked up at the waitress, who was slightly taken aback by his previous act , and gave a shy boyish grin. "So what’s your name, darling? And why are you working in such a... charming place that is Bob’s Bar?"
Chance followed the girl with one eye. She looked so innocent in this kinda place, like a deer caught in headlights. He felt... protective of her. Why? He had no romantic interest in her...
Ah. He had it. Miriam. His sister. She reminded him of her. But it wasn't his sister... he shook his head. That type of thought process just gave him a headache.
Even so, a girl like that in a place like this needed all the help she could get. Big time. He turned back to Bob, but stopped halfway. Slowly, Chance turned around. His heart began to pound as he double-checked the customer the girl was serving.
He knew that man. Using the term loosely, of course. His second look only confirmed it. Bob's voice drowned out to background noise as Chance focused on him.
"James?" he asked, walking across to him. "James? Or should I say Ripper?" This was going to get ugly.
Drea smiled at the stranger. “Well, I have to money somehow, and I can waitress a bit, so I guess this was my best alternative. Bob doesn’t ask questions, which is good ‘cause I don’t like answering questions,” she told him. Adriana continued, “I’m Adriana. And you are?” From behind her, she heard Chance calling.
James looked up to where the voice had come from to see a tall, well built man standing there. He knew the man’s face but he couldn’t place it... "Name’s James, mate. You have me confused with someone else." Then it clicked; he was that Chance guy that helped him escape from Krispin's lackeys. "Chance isn’t it? I never gave you a proper thank you for helping me with those rather nasty men, did I?"
That brought Chance up short. “And what about our other little run in? Where you tried to kill me? Then there’s the whole disappearing for months thing, then fighting on the side of the Elders at the Hyperion. And do we have to mention the whole vampire thing? You neglected to tell me that whilst you were fighting for your UNlife.” He reached for a stake.
Adriana stood in confusion. Obviously these men knew each other. And there she was, in the middle of the crossfire. She leaned on the edge of James’ table.
*Oh God, oh God. Drea, what have you gotten yourself into?* Adriana began to shake heavily. She cursed herself for not knowing that the stranger was a vampire. Muttering to herself, she began to pray.
James shook his head with his face, getting more serious by the second. "First things first, Chance. I got kidnapped by my grand-sire Krispin and he tortured me for a couple of months until Ripper appeared. Second, of all I have a multi-personalities so I’m not Ripper, I’m James; the nice evil guy. Third of all, why the fuck did you just come over here and start mouthing off with a freakin waitress beside me?"
Chance cocked an eyebrow. “Right, because you’re a real knight in shining armour.” He looked at the waitress. “Sorry to get you caught in this, love, but I do hope you don’t believe a word he says. He is a fucking vampire after all. And one who’s insane at that. Word of advice, don’t hang around with vampires.” He stepped to one side to let her slip past. So, there were three people like him running around LA; he, Darian, and now James. He just kept hitting those small odds.
Chance returned his attention to James. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m just going to leave you alone now, because all the death and murder isn’t your fault. And the fact you’re a vampire is neither here nor there because you’re ‘the nice evil guy’.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Yeah, right.”
James gave chance a look that could throw daggers, "Yeah, I admit it I’m not the greatest person-"
Chance cut in before James could finish. "You’re not a person at all. You’re a vampire."
James’ eyebrows almost made a perfect ‘v’ shape he was growling that much. "So what, I’m supposed to atone for my sins or something like you are trying to do?" Chance was a little taken aback by this comment. "Oh, come on now Chance. You don’t think I read up on you and your little friend Dray’chen? I heard him and Ripper had quite the little scuffle, and as for the ‘he’s a vampire’ remark, I think you failed to mention the fact that you are possessed by a demon that has a terrible lust for death.... just like the one that possessed me."
James took the beer in one hand and put the end in his mouth and bit into the end, pulling the cap off. He spat out the bottle cap, gave a grin and began to drink "So why don’t’ ya just back off before you get yourself hurt? I don’t want to hurt you... you saved my ass once. Would be a shame to have to kill you."
Adriana’s big, brown eyes widened. She began breathing heavily, as she moved away from the fight. Instead of running to the bar where she could hide behind Bob, she leaned against the wall. Drea felt the tears dripping down her cheek. Her body moved to the ground. Adriana found herself sitting. She pulled her legs towards her as she watched the erupting battle.
Chance kept an eye on the waitress as she backed away. He should have known she wouldn’t have been able to handle a confrontation like this. But he couldn’t let this killer get away. It reminded him too much of the path he could have walked down, letting Dray’chen, or at least his impulses, take control of him. What he would be capable of… it just didn’t bear thinking about.
“Yeah, so everything’s not as black and white as it used to be. Maybe I am a little more grey these days. But at least I’m not sitting there drinking blood, flirting with my next meal.” He nodded to Adriana. “You’re not possessed by a demon. You’re a vampire. You ARE one. And the only way for you to atone, is as cat litter.” He whipped out the stake.
The other hand subconsciously tightened around something that wasn’t there. Like the hilt of a sword, for example.
Before Chance had time to strike James’ beer bottle was already colliding with his temple. As the beer bottle exploded into millions of tiny shards of glass, Chance lost his balance and fell to his knees. James quickly got up from behind his seat and lifted Chance up by his jacket; slamming his fists into his ribs a few times before he side flipped him onto the table which in turn broke under the weight.
There was a split-second pause, in which there was nothing but silence, as the punches started flying. It was one of those split-seconds that seemed to last for hours. Nobody moved but to watch the fight kick off to a start. Then it was over.
The room exploded into a massive brawl. Demons and vampires launched themselves at each other, screaming war cries or shouts of encouragement. They were fighting for seemingly no reason other than a "really good fight".
James headed out towards the door, but before he made it a rather nasty Uros demon tossed a punch in his direction. The vampire raised his hand, blocking the punch and turning it into a wrist lock, continuing to turn it and forcing the demon to the floor. Twitching his hand, he broke the demon’s wrist, and brought his free hand down to the demon’s elbow, snapping it out of the socket and squirting marrow on to the floor.
Adriana rose from the ground and observed the chaos. The man named Chance just lay on the floor. She felt bad. Technically, he'd saved her. Lord knows what would have happened to her if Chance didn’t tell her about James’ true nature.
Drea slid her hands onto her waist. In her pocket, she felt a small bottle. Suddenly she remembered her first day at work, when Bob had given her the mace bottle filled with holy water. Adriana carefully removed it from her pocket and advanced to James, who was about to leave.
Chance picked himself up out of the rubble amidst the mayhem, wiping the blood out of his mouth. Why had James needed his help fighting off those vampires again?
A vampire lunged at him from the left. Chance cracked it across the skull with his fist. He grabbed a piece of wood from the wreckage of the table, he couldn’t see the stake he had had, and dusted the creature.
By now, the entire bar was a riot. Somewhere in all of it, Chance could spot James heading for the exit. No way was he letting him leave. Tightening his grip on the makeshift weapon, and taking a deep breath as if before diving into water, he plunged into the chaos. Anything that came too close to him, Chance broke and moved on, refusing to let himself be distracted.
It wasn’t until he had almost caught up with James that he noticed the waitress also following him intently. James hadn’t noticed her. Yet. But he would.
Chance doubled his efforts to get to the vampire.
James walked quickly to the bar door. As he reached it he sensed that something that was about to attack behind him and turned, finding himself at the nozzle end of a mace can. The girl was about to spray when James whipped his hand up and grabbed her wrist, twisting it and making the can drop out of her hand.
He let go of her wrist. "You’re nice, darling, but don’t try and stop me leaving this bar. I don’t want to hurt you or Demon Boy over there,” said James as he motioned towards Chance.
A vampire made a grab for the waitress. Before he reached her he was met by James’ boot in his jaw, sending him flying over the bar. James quickly let go of the girl and headed out the door.
“Oh no you don’t,” Chance said, grabbing James by the shoulder as he stepped out the door. He spun the vampire round, and rammed the ‘stake’ into his chest.
Nothing happened.
They both looked down.
The wood was protruding from his chest, but hadn’t gone in far enough.
*Bugger,* Chance thought, *Last time I use a random piece of wood to fight the undead. Had this been the movies he would be dust by now.*
"Ya lookin’ a bit blunt there-" James began, grinning, but Chance cut him off with a strong right-hook. He stumbled to one side, not down and out, but at least away from the door and the girl...
The girl.
He cast a glance over to her. She was looking scared and confused, and clutching her wrist. “Get out of here!” Chance shouted, motioning to the door.
She felt like crying. Drea never handled pain all that well, despite previous beatings. Adriana backed towards the bar where Bob was hiding under there. “Not until I know you’re all right,” she told the demon. He seemed to be getting frustrated. She sighed and added, “I’ll be fine. This’ll heal.”
James looked at the girl holding her wrist and thought, *I didn’t even twist that hard.* The vampire saw Chance swing another punch his way. As James blocked it he shifted his weight to his back leg and twisted round. Holding Chance’s arm and shoulder he tossed him sending through the air and crashing into the bar window.
Chance coughed and cursed as he fell through the window in an explosion of glass and hit the floor outside. It hurt. A lot. He rolled a little, pain shooting through his body.
Why the window? Always with the window…
At least he had easily been able to take Ripper on whilst as Dray’chen, but he didn’t have the luxury of all his power this time round. Only a little. And what he had wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough to win.
But enough to put up a bloody good fight at least. Determined, he started rising again, concentrating of Dray’chen’s power, harnessing it.
“Quit it! Haven’t you done enough fighting?” Adriana shouted at the vampire. She began to walk closer to him, despite the brawl. Drea let her wrist fall to her side. She continued, “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two but don’t take it out in the bar! Bob’s hiding, which it seems to be pretty normal, but other people could have gotten hurt!"
"I’m sorry if I’m pissing you off, but really!” Her eyes were big again and full of hurt. She knew that she started it, but that's only because he planned on eating her.
James stared deeply into her eyes and could tell she was fearing for her life. He cocked his head sideways, raising his hand to stroke her cheek. "Don’t worry, love. I don’t like to play with my food. You were quite safe. I was only in here for the conversation and a game of pool until Demon Boy came. Don’t get it wrong, love... he is far worse than me. Ask about a demon called Dray’chen and you will find out."
He turned and headed out the door to see Chance slowly rising to his feet. James quickly ran forward and booted him square in the jaw, knocking him to the ground unconscious. James headed towards the alleyway that led to his car.
Chance swam to consciousness a few seconds later. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers; cursing explicitly and imaginatively. He was just getting there, just about to harness the same power he had during the Hyperion Battle.
And then he had been knocked unconscious from one kick as he concentrated.
Bloody typical.
Dammit, he needed more time to work out all the kinks. Matthew could do it, but then again he did have decades of practice. Despite his knowledge, there was a difference between knowing how to do something, and actually doing it. Like what he had done at the Hyperion. He needed practice, training if you will.
Furious, he leapt to his feet. Again. Chance noted the use of the word ‘again’.
Well, if you had to say one thing about him, you could do a lot worse than to say ‘stubborn’.
Once he had got up, Chance could find no trace of James. He knew from experience that the vampire was damned hard to find when he didn’t want to be found. It would take everything he had to track him down.
Better get started then.
He looked from side to side, wondering which way to go.
Adriana eyed the vampire as he left. She still didn’t trust him. *He could have killed you right then and there, but he didn’t. He spared you.* Drea shook it off and turned to Bob. He was rising slowly, look in both directions.
“Are they gone?” he whispered to her.
Adriana nodded her head. “Yeah, they both just left.”
Bob stood up quickly and gave a sigh of relief. He eyed the damage and a sour look painted his face. *Never again will those two be allowed here at the same time!* he thought bitterly.
Adriana stepped over a few broken chairs and a couple of moaning bodies. This was her world now.
Chance closed his eyes and focused again. Became attuned to the smells, the sounds, the feeling of evil or good that hung in the air. He stretched out, trying to sense the nearby presence of a vampire.
After a few seconds he stopped, sighed, and opened his eyes.
It was useless. He just couldn’t concentrate enough; he was in pain, although it was fading, and his blood was pumping.
But there would always be a next time.
Indeed there would be. He would be sure of it. But first he would practice, use Dray’chen better. Practice how he had done it at the Hyperion.
For a moment, Chance wondered why James hadn’t just killed him. If their positions had been reversed, he would have happily done away with the vampire. But instead, James had just knocked him out.
Why? Did it cancel the debt he had for Chance helping him out? Or did it, in some twisted way, appeal to James that Chance was now more or less in his?
That was a troubling thought. Another one. Chance put it on the list.
He was about to take off when he remembered the waittress. Ducking back inside the ruined bar, Chance whistled at the state of it. The demons and vampires had gone, those that weren’t unconscious or dead anyway. But the Bar itself looked like a bomb had hit it.
Ok, it looked like that most of the time. This was a really big bomb.
Chance quickly picked the girl out. It wasn’t difficult, really. Besides Bob, she was the only one standing.
“Hey, look. I, ummm… wanna apologise for what happened back there,” Chance said, carefully making his way over to her. “You got caught up in something that you had nothing to do with, and your life was in serious danger, and I guess some of that is my fault.” He paused, then stuck out his hand. “And we weren’t even formally introduced. I’m Chance. Yes, part demon. Ish. Long story. But I’m not about to kill you. I guess you’re just gonna have to take my word on that.”
Adriana smiled at the man named Chance. He had saved her life. The least she could do was introduce herself to him. “I’m Adriana. I’m a-” She began when she looked out the corner of her eye to see Bob standing near by. Drea inhaled deeply and mouth “G-Y-P-S-Y.” If he was willing to tell her about his demon side, then she could reveal the fact about her family.
Chance cocked an eyebrow. “Gypsy, huh? Well hey, at least you’re human.” He leaned in closer. “You are human, right? Otherwise this could get embarrassing…”
Adriana raised her eyebrows. “I’m human. At least I hope I’m human. This is my first demon fight here at the bar.”
“Yeah, the first is always the worse,” Chance smiled. “Working in a place like this, you’ll undoubtedly get use to them. Listen, it’s been nice to meet you, but I gotta dash. A vampire hunter’s work is never done, and James, Ripper, whoever he is he’s a nasty bastard, is on the loose. You ever need a hand fighting the forces of evil, even just having a chat, whatever, get in touch with me. I’m good for the former, but my girlfriend will probably love the latter. And in this city, everybody needs a friend.” He winked. “Just ask Bob… I’m sure he knows where I’m at these days.” Turning to the door, Chance then stopped and swung back again. “By the way, you look like a clever gal, so listen to some advice: get out of here. This place will do you no good at all. Trust me.”
Then he swung back again and headed out. Just before leaving he looked over at Bob, cowering under a table and waved. “Bye Bob!” he called, and turned back to Adriana. “Sorry again,” Chance said, and stepped out.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
November 28th
A dark alley outside Alessa’s apartment
10:00 pm
A woman was waiting for her in a fighting stance. Alessa frowned. She wasn’t expecting to find anyone but Morris and she didn’t want to fight, not without a reason. Circling her opponent slowly, she measured her. The woman was beautiful, with black hair and dark eyes that made an appaling contrast against the paleness of her skin, but she had a fierce expression. As she watched, her big black eyes started to turn yellow. Well, that was something. There was more there that it was shown. *Vampire?* she wondered.
Warily, Alessa spoke. “I have no trouble with you, could we stop this idiocy and go?”
Laughing, the woman attacked. With non-human speed, Alessa moved aside to face her again. “What’s your name, why are you attacking me?” she asked.
“Why? you don’t know?” asked the brunette. “Morris sent me to give you his regards,” she purred as she attacked again, this time punching Alessa and sending her to the opposite wall with enough force to kill a plain human. But Alessa wasn’t a plain human, and she stood up soon enough. She noticed the puzzlement in the other’s eyes as she realized that she wasn’t facing fair game. With no more questions Alessa attacked.
The woman was strong and supple, and soon enough she showed her true colors as she vamped out. Nevertheless, Alessa had her own tricks too and she didn’t hesitate to use them. She had to recognize that the vampiress was strong, though, much stronger than the average one. *Power surges?* She didn’t have more time to think when a kick from her opponent sent her ten meters away. She lay stunned on the cold alley pavement for less than a second; with the vampiress coming to her, Alessa shook her head out of dizziness and jumped up again.
Roxana’s eyes narrowed. Obviously she had underestimated this demoness' strength. Morris hadn’t told her about this. As they circled she assessed her opponent too. She could camouflage; she was pitch black except for the fighting red eyes now, and moved exceedingly fast. She was very strong too, and could fight. Roxana snorted, apart from the camouflaging part so could she; this demoness was no rival for her. With a terrifying scream Roxana charged, to be met by Alessa again. *This will prove interesting,* she thought. It was always exhilarating to have a good fight. She hadn’t had a worthy adversary since the Slayer’s Ritual.
From a somewhat distant spot Chance watched as the two women fought. He had been returning home from his encounter with James when he was attracted by the brawl noises, and had been surprised to find Alessa involved. The fight was even, both opponents strong and fast. Both equally skilled. But he feared for Alessa, though. Evil things had a way of getting through, and he could tell by this vampiress' stance that she was as evil as they came. And strong, much too strong. It was time he intervened, he thought, as he jumped in the middle of the fight. He could see Alessa's surprise at seeing him there, and her relief too. Although she hadn't been afraid of her opponent, she had noticed by now that the vampiress wouldn't be easy to defeat.
Roxana sniffed. So, the abomination was here too. It didn't surprise her - Morris had told her they were together. She remembered him from the Hyperion. She straightened and looked at their faces. The demoness was dangerous and the man had proven to be so. She didn't have any doubts that she would have killed Alessa if she had been alone, but... the two of them? Her face lost her demonic visage.
"We'll see each other again," she promised Alessa as she leapt towards a nearby balcony and disappeared into the dark.
Chance started to follow but was stopped by Alessa’s hand on his arm. “Let her go,” she asked. She didn’t want him to kill the vampiress, not just yet. She wanted to know more before killing her.
Puzzled, Chance stared at her. She was losing her dark color now, and her eyes were their usual green again. Yet there was a haunted look in her face. “Who is she?” he asked, “How come you are hunting alone?”
“I’m not hunting. I heard a cry and went out,” she lied. She didn’t want to tell him about Morris breaking into their apartment. She was decided to solve Morris’ problem by herself. “Let’s go. I’m tired,” she added as she started to walk towards the apartment again.
To her amazement, she noticed that she was wearing Morris’ ring on her finger; angered she took it out and threw it away, relishing in the sound of it rolling into a sewer.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Sunday, 5th November 2006 – 4pm
Walking slowly back along the grassy verge, Tash paused for a moment. She hung back, letting the others move on before her, then turned to investigate the familiar feeling she'd picked up. As her friends moved further away the collective level of grief she was sensing dropped, but there was a particular flavour to the misery she was sensing here - strong enough to cut through even her own. Pushing through the bushes that marked the beginning of the wooded hillside Tash followed the mental impressions, certain now of the identity of the one she tracked.
She called softly, "Jade? Are you there? It's Tash - don't be afraid."
There was a slight rustling of leaves as Jade stepped forward, dressed simply in solemn black. Her eyes were red and puffy, but her face was composed and expressionless. She had known that Tash would sense her presence, and had deliberately stayed on to speak to her friend after the service. The simple, poignant words Tash had said in tribute to Tris had touched Jade deeply, since she, better than anyone else, understood all the feelings behind them, all the things that had been left unsaid. Also, Jade desperately wanted to be around someone else who had been close to Sorrow. Solitary grief was a heavy, almost unbearable burden to bear and since few people had known Sorrow as she had, few were affected the way she was at his death.
"Hello Tash." Now that the two of them were face-to-face, Jade felt a little awkward and at a loss on how to act. Did she hug Tash and thank her for organising the memorial? Offer her condolences? Stand there silently and wait for Tash to make the next move? In the end, Jade simply said, "I'm sorry about Victor. I didn't know..."
Tash fought hard to contain the fresh tears that threatened to overflow. Emotions had run high today, but her heartache was tinged with anger. It was hard not to think about the sensation of Jade’s teeth scraping the wound Valerian had made in her shoulder that afternoon at the Hyperion. But now, she knew, was not the time to take Jade to task for her choices. Instead she merely nodded.
"I know you didn't," she said simply. Jade knew why; there was no need to elaborate. The two remained facing each other awkwardly for a few long moments. Tash was equally unsure how to act here. Jade was her friend, and between them they shared a profound loss - but Jade had allied herself with the enemy.
"He wanted me to give you something, Jade."
"He... What?" Jade's voice was oddly choked as she clamped down on the spiralling sorrow within her. She mourned not just for the people she'd cared about, but also for the death of friendship between her and Tash, the one that would have enabled them to share the pain of losing the men they had loved to distraction.
*This just isn't fair,* Tash railed inwardly. She should be sitting with Jade in her apartment, sharing a bottle of wine and crying with her. Instead here they were, standing behind an empty beach walking on eggshells with each other. She tentatively reached out a hand as if to place it on Jade's shoulder, but let it hang in midair.
Jade grasped Tash's proffered hand and sandwiched it between her own as Tash spoke, "He told me the reasons you gave for going to Valerian. It was to keep Sorrow safe. Now..." Tash closed her eyes and choked back a sob. Jade would be able to infer the rest, but right now Tash thought she needed something more concrete, so she repeated what Sorrow had said in his letter. "Now he's freed you from that. Your choices have opened up again."
Jade's almond eyes darkened. "No Tash, they haven't..." She dropped her friend's hand and strode past her to stare out at the ocean. She winced inwardly at her curt tone and tried to soften it by explaining further. "You weren't wrong when you said that I went back to my father's side to keep Tris safe. Nobody but Valerian could guarantee protection against the entire Society of Ulle. But..."
She faltered, unwilling to see the contempt that would mark Tash's face but knowing that the words had to be said. "But there were other reasons. The deaths of the Slayers – each one made it harder to deny what I was, what I am. I am Valerian's daughter, Tash. I am bound to him as much as he is bound to me, blood of his blood, flesh of his flesh... Even Tristan's death can't change that fact."
Jade turned back to look at Tash, her long hair blowing in the breeze. Another emotion had weaved its way into the fabric of her grief, one that she hadn't expected to feel - anger. "Tris lived his whole life adhering to a code, one that had clear definitions of black and white, right and wrong. He measured everything and everyone by this damn code and treated them accordingly. Up until the day he met me. He had to fall in love with someone whose entire existence was a myriad of greys," Jade laughed bitterly.
"Because I couldn't be boxed up in a neat package labelled 'good' or 'evil', I went against the very grain of the code that governed his life. Something I'm not sure Tris truly accepted. In typical 'Sorrow fashion', he concluded that him dying would set me free, totally forgetting all the other factors in the equation, the stupid... selfish pig... I hope he burns in hell for making such a stupid decision that..." Jade's voice broke as the anger that had been building up within her overflowed.
She whipped back towards the ocean and shouted, "Goddamn you, Tris! You should have said something... anything. It needn't have come to this. It shouldn't have come to this! Damn you for leaving me here. Damn you for making me hurt like this... I..." Sobbing, Jade sank to her knees and pounded her fists against the ground.
Tash listened quietly to Jade's diatribe. But as Jade moved from justification to accusation, Tash's face creased into a scowl. She wanted to wrap her arms around Jade and comfort her, wanted for the two of them to cry together. But that wasn't what Jade needed. Not now. It would only feed Jade's own feelings of helplessness – her unwillingness to see her way out of her current situation. No, Tash couldn't afford to give Jade comfort, no matter how much she wanted to.
So she grasped Jade's shoulder, but instead of crouching down and wrapping her in a hug as Jade expected, Tash wrenched Jade around to face her. "Don't you dare blame Sorrow for this," she hissed. "He had his own reasons for doing what he did, and you were only part of it. Yes, you've got yourself in a deep, deep hole now. And from what I've heard you did it purely to help Sorrow. Now, maybe Sorrow was being generous in that. I'm sure Valerian's way of life entices you – but remember, even though you're his daughter you don't have to follow in your father's footsteps."
She hauled Jade to her feet, her heart breaking at how miserable Jade looked. But she'd started now, and had to finish it. "Sorrow did say something to you. He told me. But you didn't want to listen. Now he's trying one more time to reach you. It's up to you whether you finally pay attention to him."
Tash retrieved the bag she'd dropped and drew forth a cloth-wrapped sword. "He left this for you, Jade, and his words are emblazoned in my brain. He said, 'Hizashi is sun-forged and a potent reminder of who and what I was. There is one person in the world who will need that reminder now that I am gone. Pass on my sword to Jadyn that it may light her path back from the darkness.'"
Tash held Hizashi out, offering Jade the hilt. Her voice softened as she said, "Jade, please don't let it all go to waste. You were too good a friend, and I've already lost too many."
Jade grasped Hizashi as if it was a lifeline but did not remove the cloth wrapped around it. She had seen Sorrow use it more times than she cared to count and was well familiar with it. Closing her eyes, Jade allowed herself to remember for a moment the numerous training sessions she and Sorrow had shared at Poplar, when he had coached her on swordplay, using Hizashi. Her fury drained as quickly as it had come, leaving behind nothing but a raw mass of pain.
Using the sword as a support Jade slowly stood up, straightened her shoulders and looked Tash squarely in the eye. "I said I'm Valerian's daughter, Tash... Not his reflection. His footsteps aren't necessarily mine; neither does his lifestyle hold any enticement for me. Oh, the power offered by the darker side of my nature is intoxicating, I'm not denying that, but I'd give it up in a heartbeat. I'd do anything just for Tris to still be here."
Jade sighed, "I'm sorry, Tash. What I said earlier... I know and I understand Tristan's reasons for doing what he did. In fact, it's so 'him'," Jade's slender shoulders jerked in a shrug, "I'm not so much mad at him as I am with myself for not figuring it out sooner and stopping him."
Tash frowned. “And if you had stopped him, what then? The Brotherhood would have gone on gaining power from the Slayers until nobody in the world could stand against them. Would you sacrifice the world merely for one man? I had to let Victor go – I knew what he was about to do. Do you think I wouldn’t give anything to have Victor back? But I stood in that temple and let him die, because I knew that the future of an entire species rested on his shoulders. And that wasn’t even my species. You would have condemned your own people for your own selfish reasons. That’s not the Jade I once knew. But she’s still in there, I’m sure. You still have her within you and she can shine once more if only you’d let her.”
There was a long pause as Jade thought back to the words Sorrow had flung at her - "There's Rose's blood in your veins too. Would she want you to do this?" He had been trying desperately to remind her that there was more to her heritage than vampiric darkness, a fact that had become glaringly obvious from Valerian's growing impatience with her and her heartbreak. Jade knew that she would never become the likeness of her father, for she had the humanity he lacked. But she also knew that she couldn't turn back the clock.
Tash was looking at her intently. Jade took a deep breath and continued, her voice sad. "You were the first friend I made in LA, Tash, and in the last two years you've became what the Chinese call a jin lan - a sister of the heart. That's not changed. I'll be your friend for as long as you want me to be Tash, and I swear that I'll never harm you and yours... But I can't go back to what I was before. Too much has changed for that."
Tash shook her head sadly, “I know you can’t go back. But in going forward, you don’t have to embrace the darkness. You have all the choices in the world right now. I know deep in your heart you know which are the right ones. And,” her face softened as she smiled at Jade, “you know you don’t have to do it alone. You always have friends here to help you.”
The sun had started to set, turning the sky into a fiery montage of red, orange and pink hues. The water was calm, the beach quiet and deserted, almost as if nature itself had decided to take a silent moment to remember those that had passed.
Jade walked up to the tree Daye and the others had so lovingly planted, three bouquets of flowers cradled in her arms. The first bunch of colourful posies she placed on the left side of the sapling as a tribute to Victor’s memory. The remaining two bouquets found a home nestled together to the right of the young tree.
Jade knelt there in silence, her hands resting gently on the glossy white orchids and the dewy red rosebuds. She thought back to the Valentine's Day she had received similar flowers from Sorrow and marvelled at how quickly time had past. *Almost two years ago… We'd just met... And now...* She looked up at the darkening sky, believing that wherever he was, Sorrow's soul would hear the words in her heart. *I love you Tris. Never doubt that. No matter what I am, what I become, I'll go on loving you to the day I die.*
She bowed her head and began to weep once more, her tears dropping silently onto the flower petals below.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Monday, 6th November 2006 – 4:20pm
It had been four days since Toni had gone away and left Jeet at his house. Now he had called Jeet to let him know he would be returning later today. Jeet had managed well on his own; Toni had brought him some clothes and groceries on the way back from Reah’s and he had explained how to use the fridge, shower and telephone before he left. He had even left little notes everywhere in case Jeet forgot anything.
In fact, Jeet hadn’t even left the building apart from the few times he meditated in the garden. He had put most of his questions to the back of his mind at the moment as he was too busy trying to get to grips with how much had changed. Toni hadn’t been kidding when he said he had a lot of books. His spare room was lined with books on science, history, geography and many other subjects but what was more amazing was that Jeet had just finished the last one.
Jeet had always been a gifted student, learning at a far greater rate than any other students. Back at the temple the monks had called it a gift from god; nowadays it would be called a photographic memory. Jeet now knew the entire history and theory behind television and was just flicking through the hundreds of channels when there was a knock on the front door.
*What the-? Who the hell is that?* Jeet jumped to his feet, all his senses on alert. He had had no visitors at all over the last few days. His only human contact had been a few fleeting calls from Toni and Reah. *It must be someone for Toni,* he thought to himself unconvincingly, *but I’m not taking any chances.* He grabbed one of his Sai off the table and approached the door.
Tash stood outside the house shuffling her feet. Reah had practically begged her to come visit this man, saying he needed somewhere to live. She was more than happy to do so, but wished Reah had been able to come along to provide introductions. Given what Reah had told her of Jeet's background he was no doubt feeling completely out of place. A new face wouldn't exactly help to reassure him - not at first, anyway.
Then the door opened and she had to agree with her own assessment. The man looked more than a little wary and was brandishing a sword like he'd been born with it in his hand. She put on her friendliest smile and said, "Hi, you must be Jeet. I'm a friend of Reah's."
"Reah didn't mention anything about a 'friend' coming over," Jeet responded suspiciously. "Who are you?"
“My name is Tash. I live at Poplar Avenue, the same building Reah lives in. She's told me who you are, and that you're looking for a place to stay." She glanced past Jeet's shoulder, into the house. "Mind if I come in? There's a bit of a chill in the air today."
Jeet eyed the woman up and down before stepping to one side to let her in. "Please forgive my rudeness. This is all still pretty strange to me," he said apologetically. "Please sit down." He gestured to Toni's black leather chair as he closed the front door behind them.
“Thanks," Tash smiled and took the proffered seat. She surveyed the man before her, taking in the calm blues and pastels of his aura. A man not easily ruffled, she surmised, though there were the odd flickers of uncertainty. *Hardly surprising, given his circumstances,* she thought.
"I'm going to get right to the point, Jeet," Tash said evenly. "Reah asked me if I could find space for you in my building..." It still felt weird to call it 'her' building, but Tash knew she had to get used to the responsibility she now carried for the Foundation. It was Victor's legacy - and Sorrow's letter had urged her to use it. She realised Jeet was looking at her expectantly, since she'd paused mid sentence.
She picked up her broken train of thought and continued, "And there is an apartment I can offer you. It won't, however, be charity."
"That won’t be a problem," Jeet replied with a smile. "I arrived here with quite a few gold coins I was," Jeet paused momentarily, "…I was buried with. Toni informs me that these now ancient coins are worth around $100,000, which from what I’ve been reading is quite a lot. He should have the money when he returns.”
Tash blinked in some surprise. She had expected him to be penniless. "Ah, I see. Handy for you, I'm sure. But I wasn't thinking of payment in terms of money." She eyed Jeet up and down. "Reah tells me you're quite an accomplished fighter, and from your story you're no stranger to odd happenings."
"No, you misunderstand me. Toni had some business in New York and managed to get my coins in an auction. He sold them today, so money isn't an issue," he reiterated, "and yes I am no stranger to battle although I do not relish it. My first encounter with Reah was in battle. She fights with lot of passion," a wry smile passed his lips as he thought of their fight, "although her technique is somewhat fundamental. It appears some of the finer parts of swordsmanship may have died over the many years I have been..." he didn’t wish to use the term ‘dead’, "…gone."
Tash's answering smile was broad and full of humour. "Oh, yes, Reah certainly does fight with passion," she agreed, thinking back in particular to G'rnatha. She contemplated Jeet for a while longer. Maybe their first meeting was too soon to introduce him to the concept of the White Hats. So she subsided. If he wanted to pay in coin rather than with his sword arm, so be it.
"All right, then," she said. "I can offer you one of the first floor apartments for a reasonable monthly rent. There's also a training room on the third floor, which I can show you if you're interested in doing some workouts or sparring. I," she had to stop for a moment but she pushed on through her thickening voice, "I could use a new fencing partner." She closed her eyes and remembered the last time she and Sorrow had sparred with sword. It was still hard to believe he was gone.
Jeet couldn't contain his happiness. "That would be most acceptable. I'll pay in a year in advance if that's ok, one thing less to worry about. And I'd be happy to train with you; I like to keep my body in shape as well as my mind. Sorry, where are my manners? Can I offer you a drink or something to eat? It would have to be something simple as I haven’t tested out my knowledge of cooking with electricity yet."
Jeet stood up and made his way into the kitchen. "Orange juice, I believe it is called?" he gestured whilst waving a carton in the air.
A giggle escaped Tash's lips at Jeet's exuberance. "Yes, thanks, I'd love some orange juice."
Jeet fetched two glasses out of the cupboard and poured the orange juice before returning to the living room. "There you go," he said as he handed Tash a glass. "Toni will be back soon. Will you stay to meet him or are do you have to get back?" Jeet had been on his own for long enough and he hoped she would stay but Toni would be back soon enough if not.
Tash swallowed a mouthful of juice and replied, "I do have things to take care of, but I can stay a while. I'm keen to hear more about you, to be honest. You see," Tash explained, throwing caution to the wind, "there are a lot of supernatural elements that gravitate to this city and so far we've been dealing with them haphazardly. But I'm wanting to build up an organised force against the evils of this area, and frankly, you sound like a perfect candidate."
Jeet was stunned. "I, I don’t know what to say. I am honoured that you believe I may be of some assistance and I am more than willing to help in any way. Perhaps you and your friends may be able to help me also. I have so many questions but so few answers." Jeet looked slightly deflated. "But that is for another day," he said, raising his head once more. "A toast 'to my new found friends and home’!"
Tash lifted her glass in reply. "To new friends," she echoed.
She took a sip and continued, "But don't thank me just yet. The job is often messy and painful and sometimes heartbreaking. Let's hope LA is kinder to you than it has been to some of us. And," she smiled again, "I'm sure together we can find some of the answers you seek."
"I thank you once again and I am sorry to hear that times have been hard for you. From this day you have my mind, body and sword at your side. Now, when can I move in?" he added jokingly.
Tash fished in her pocket and held out some keys, grinning. "Right now, if you want."
Jeet continued to talk for an hour or so about how he had arrived and about his past, and although Reah had obviously told Tash most of it she still seemed interested, until he saw her looking at her watch.
"Look at me keeping you – I don’t know what's keeping Toni. You go. As soon as he returns I'll get him to bring me round," he smiled at Tash as they both got to their feet.
"Sorry to rush out on you, Jeet. But you know the address - just let yourself into Apartment 106. There's even a little furniture in there." Tash smiled over her shoulder as she left, "Welcome to the club, Jeet."
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday, 8th November 2006 – 1am
Quin struggled with the door, busting it into her toes in the process while she hurriedly tried to get help. *STUPID DOOR!* Shuffling her foot out of the way she threw the door inwards and Quin scurried for the stairs, taking them three at a time till she reached the top, tripping up at the end.
“Oh, crap!” Picking herself up, Quin pulled her feet under herself and jogged towards Tash’s apartment, pausing only momentarily before knocking quietly on the door. When there was no answer she tried again, this time more urgently.
“Tash?”
Tash struggled out of her fitful sleep. She squinted blearily at the bedside clock. "Ugh," she grunted. *Twenty minutes' sleep. Go me.* The knock that had awoken her sounded again; whoever was out there was growing ever more frantic.
"Ok, ok, I'm coming!" she called, and pulled on a long t-shirt over her naked body. She reached for the door, sending out mental tendrils as she asked, "Who is it?"
“It’s Quin.” Quin struggled to keep herself composed instead of bouncing anxiously on the balls of her feet waiting for Tash to open the door.
“I-it’s Reah…” Quin added, drawing a quizzically tired make-up-your-mind look from Tash as she opened the door, before Quin managed to stamp on its end, “I think she’s in trouble.”
Tash nodded. She'd known there was something seriously wrong before she'd even opened the door; the worry was rolling from Quin in waves. "Come in while I get dressed, and tell me what's happened."
Tash moved back to the bedroom, beckoning for Quin to follow and listened as she found her hunting clothes. If Reah was in trouble, it wouldn't be anything simple, she knew that much for nothing.
Quin frowned inwardly, her forehead burrowed in puzzlement, “I’m not really sure… it was weird. I mean, Reah going out with Damen wasn’t weird, and I thought I heard something in the street ages ago not long after they’d left, but I didn’t pay it any mind. The weirdest thing was this phone call I just got, though. It… well, it was talking like it was Reah, but it didn’t sound like her…. It didn’t even sound human!”
As Tash’s head quirked around slightly, Quin added casually, “But not in a demon sense.”
Tash blinked, caught midway through putting on her jacket. "You know about demons, then? Ok. So Reah went..."
Tash stopped and blinked several more times. "Reah went out with Damen? Right, all right, I can learn to live with that I'm sure. So then you heard something in the street and later you got a phone call. Ok, what did you hear? And what did the maybe-Reah say on the phone?"
“She… It said: ’Quin, I’ve been’…” Quin paused and looked at Tash apologetically, “Um, it swore at that point, but it was a monotone… it sounded really out of place. Like, if it was Reah, she was being assaulted or something.”
Quin shook her head, then continued, resuming her place and leaving out the obscenities, “’Quin, I’ve been kidnapped. I’m in some rundown warehouse - good luck finding it, ‘cos there ain’t an f’ing million of them around - Get some help. Go to Tash. And Quin, in case I don‘t get to see you again…’” Quin struggled, she didn’t know how to handle this! How was she supposed to help? She didn’t have a clue what was going on!
"Tash, I...."
Fully dressed and armed to the teeth now, Tash reached out and patted Quin's shoulder. "Shh, it's ok. I'll sort it out. So Reah's voice was just toneless all the way through? You said it sounded like she was being assaulted - did you hear sounds of struggling? Anything in the background to indicate where she might be?"
As she spoke Tash gathered Quin in her wake and headed out of the apartment. “And you didn't tell me about the at noise you heard outside. What did you hear?"
She strode out of the apartment and down the stairs as Quin replied, the girl almost having to trot to keep up with Tash's long-legged and purposeful strides.
“Earlier I though I heard someone yell out in pain down that way,” Quin gestured off somewhere to her right, “And there was no noise in the background of the phone call! I felt like I was talking to a computer, it was just so hollow!”
She sniffed, eager and hesitant at the same time to get out and find Reah. *If she’s not already…* Quin’s mouth quivered and scrunched up defiantly. *Don’t cry, Quin. It’s not going to help.*
Tash suddenly stopped, and Quin turned her head over her shoulder in wonder as Tash slapped her forehead with her open hand.
"Of course! I'm such an idiot." She hugged Quin quickly before letting go. "It'll be ok, Quin. Reah's tough, and I'll find her. And yes, it was a computer you spoke to – sort of. Reah has a... device that gives her great access to communications. No, don't ask me how, it's too long to explain. But we can find her."
Tash pushed open the front doors of 1318 Poplar Avenue with one hand while she pulled out her mobile phone with the other. But before she had a chance to start dialling Reah's number, a familiar car pulled up in front of the house. Tash's jaw dropped at the sight of Nikolai's Monte Carlo – the new, improved version – and she dropped into a ready stance. Damen had never said what had happened to the car, and though it seemed unlikely she had to take into account that it might be the guys who had killed him and/or kidnapped Reah.
The Monte Carlo rolled to a stop outside 1318 Poplar Avenue, headlights blinking off in the middle of the night. Nikolai spent a decent amount of time apologising profusely to Reah, something that was soon ended when he was greeted by her ghost-faced, icy stare. At least, he thought, she and Trigger had both recovered some from their respective beatings. He still felt guilty for that, and had glimpsed once or twice the reptilian face of L'Than. Nikolai got out of the car once it stopped, heading around to the side to try to help Reah walk if she needed it.
“Bugger off!” she snapped at him, brushing aside the offer of help, “I‘m not a bloody invalid.” determined to walk for herself she unbuckled her seat belt and all but doubled out of the car seat, collapsing to the ground on her side.
Despite the world’s spin still raping her senses, Reah shakily pushed herself up on the asphalt, her arms threatening to fold under her again, but she prevailed. Instead, she managed to just sit there swaying from side to side with her eyes closed, muttering hazily, “Think I’m going to rolf….”
"Oh sweet Jesus, the smell," Damen mumbled around his injured jaw, when he got out as well, Reah emptying the contents of her stomach on the sidewalk. They were at last able to help her to her feet as the trio began to make their way to the building.
"Come on, let's get you inside and cleaned up," Damen said with at least some trace of sympathy in his voice.
Tash nearly dropped the phone from numb fingers as she watched the scene unfold before her. Her mission was aborted, since Reah was apparently now un-kidnapped, but it wasn't that which held Tash's attention. She jumped down the steps, past Damen who looked up at her in some surprise, and landed before Nikolai. Her brain was reeling with a million different questions, and Nikolai's sheepish look told her everything she needed to know.
"You, you..." Wham! Tash's fist connected with the side of Nikolai's face, catching him by surprise. Then she grabbed him to her in a fierce hug and held him while she gasped, "I thought you were dead, damn you. And you..."
She pulled back, holding him by the shoulders, "You bastard! You made me think you were dead. Do you know what it's been like? You... oh..." Tash hugged him again as she burst into tears of anger and relief.
Damen blinked twice as he watched the scene before him, Nikolai folding his arms around Tash. The Russian felt a bit of guilt at what he'd had to do, shooting a terrible look his friend's way. *Damen should have told me in advance Tash was here!*
He looked away as he caught sight of the demon standing there with her reproachful gaze staring daggers at him. "I'm sorry," Nikolai said, "I had no choice... I needed to get word on the street I was dead."
He patted Tash on the back; he could just imagine what she was going through since she had just lost her husband. "Come on, let's get inside Tasha. I promise I will tell you everything."
Refusing to let his arm go in case he magically disappeared, Tash grumbled, "Damn straight you will." Then she looked at Reah who was barely able to stand and cocked her head pointedly at Damen.
Quin had remained stiff during the whole exchange between Tash and the Russian. Looking down on Reah she could feel herself wanting to regurgitate her meals for the past week right then and there. Reah smiled weakly back at Quin, caked blood trailing from the corner of her mouth cracking as she did so.
Damen just rolled his eyes at Tash’s look and hefted Reah up till he had a better grip on her, hooking his arm under her for support and all but carried the stumbling, grumbling woman inside.
The bizarre entourage struggled up the stairs, stopping at Reah's place more because Reah herself looked unwilling to go another flight of stairs. Once in her own apartment she collapsed on the floor and crawled for the bathroom, and fresh sounds of heaving soon filled the flat. Tash sat on the couch and fixed Nikolai with a steely eye. Something about his aura tugged at her senses. It was different somehow, almost like it was overlaid with something softer, calmer than Nikolai's normal personality. And there was fresh pain, too, that was evident.
"Well, Kolya, we both have interesting stories to tell I'm sure... but please, you start." Tash's teeth flashed white.
"Where to start?" Nikolai mused, rubbing his jaw again. People seemed to love hitting him there. He stopped to look down at his hand, the strike reminding him of what he'd done earlier. *Reah broke the contract... and you knew better...* He continued to stare for several minutes, before breaking out of his state.
There was really only one logical place that he could start. "Tasha, I know the value you place on human life, but... my old boss, Lavrenti Sabarov is back. He, he...." Nikolai dropped to the couch, feeling the pain again. No, he had to focus through any pain or guilt. "He killed Zoë, Tasha, and Ben is missing. And the only reason we're having this conversation is because Reah botched her contract to kill me."
Tash's head reeled even more than it had on the front steps. "Zoë? Ben? Oh, Kolya, I'm so sorr... What, Reah?" The sorrow she felt at Nikolai's losses was momentarily blotted out by her shock. "Reah took a contract to kill you? Why? When? Wha...?"
Tash shook her head and blinked rapidly, trying to clear her thoughts. "But she botched it, you say? You mean she deliberately didn't do it, right? She couldn't have killed you, Kolya, not after G'rnatha, surely? And... Trust me, she was genuinely shocked and surprised to learn you were dead when Damen here told us..." Tash rounded on Damen, "By the way, just how did you manage to slip that one by me? I'm usually pretty good at picking up a lie, no matter how well told."
Damen just smiled at her. He loved telepaths when they realised that their powers were completely useless in dealing with him. "All statements are true in some sense, false in some sense, and meaningless in some sense," he told her blandly. He glanced over at Quin, with a terrified look on her face before going over to her. "Look, Quin, why don't you go check on Reah?"
Quin nodded, and bolted for the bathroom as quick as possible.
Nikolai sighed, ignoring the stern figure that was so desperately trying to lecture him. Taking Tash's hand in his own, he raised a simple question in his mind: how best to explain to her the way things in his world worked? She was right of course that Reah couldn't go through with it. "Tasha, da, you are right. But please, don't be bitter. It was business, not personal. That's the way things work in our world."
"You took her." Tash's statement was flat, not a question at all. "You took her and 'punished' her. And you made me think you were dead. After everything we've been through, you couldn't trust me?"
"Um, that was my fault," Trigger said rather sheepishly. "He told me to find her, and well... when you called her by name, I couldn't very well say why I was there and had to-"
"Would you please just shut up!" Nikolai snapped, standing and drawing his pistol. He just couldn't take it any more, that moralising demon, as he spun around and fired two shots into empty air. "Questioned. I didn't know she deliberately did it wrong, not for sure, and if she hadn't..." the statement trailed off, as he continued talking.
That was it. First the friend she'd thought was dead wasn't, then she learned his girlfriend was killed, then that her friend Reah was supposedly the one to have killed him – except she hadn't. And now Nikolai was shooting at ghosts. Or was he? She squinted, trying to make sense of his strangely-altered aura.
"Kolya? Are you ok?"
Nikolai forced himself to breathe calmly and steadily, the vision now gone. What the hell was happening to him? You weren't supposed to see dead people – or dead demons. "Just clearing my head," he remarked softly, turning back to Tash. "I'm sorry. I know this is a lot, but... I'll be fine. Just have to kill my old boss is all."
Tash stared back at him stonily. "Well, Reah was willing to do that for you, when she thought he'd killed you."
Reah sat back against the wall, Quin squatting sheepishly at her side with arms wrapped around her tightly bunched up legs. The two had just returned from the bathroom when Reah started to feel capable of controlling her stomach again, and she’d allowed Quin to support her back to the lounge room. She held her head between her hands, now, after the gunshots that sounded like cannons blasting in her ears, longing for an oblivion she could slip into to make the incessant throbbing stop.
“Bloody hell… Why…? What’s going on?” Reah gritted her teeth together and slid slowly down the wall towards the floor. If she could just get some rest.
Nikolai slowly reholstered his pistol. There was so much he should be doing, trying to help Tash, to help Reah. He scarcely knew where to begin, but nodded as he saw Damen going over to check on Reah. He didn't want to have this conversation, to have to justify what he did to survive. That was the way the world worked; you did what you had to.
"I. Didn't. Know," he said again. *No. You can beat yourself up over it later. Do penance later.* When he inhaled again he realised that he had stopped breathing, falling to the floor. "Just don't, ok!" he snapped, seeing what was going to happen.
"Don't start with the moralising or the judging, Tasha. I had someone I thought was a friend try to kill me, I find the woman I love dead and her child missing – probably dead. Now I'm seeing a dead demon, a dead demon like she's auditioning for Star Search. The last thing I need is a bunch of moralising. Let me tell you something, Tasha. You can have your world of vampires, but some of us don't get the luxury of being on a 'moral high ground'. Not if you're going to survive on the streets. Welcome to my world, Tasha. Believe me when I say that I wish you never had to see it."
“Have I said a word about your plan to kill this man? No. Did I try to stop Reah from doing it? No. I just told her I couldn't participate, no matter how much your death grieved me. But I worry about you." Tash held out a hand and lifted Nikolai from his knees to stand beside her.
"But this 'dead demon' you're seeing..." She cocked her head and really looked at his aura and tasted his thoughts. "You've changed, Kolya. You've got an overlay of calm, of peace. Don't fight her. Embrace her."
Nikolai couldn't say anything, just standing there silently. Of course he had to fight her. She wasn't a survivor. He was.
But it was Damen who spoke up next. "I think we all just need to rest at this point."
Quin peered over her cousin’s limp body slumped on the ground, at Damen's words, and gave her a gentle nudge, “Reah?” Reah moaned slightly and Quin winced at the massive bruises and blood stains on her face and nudged her softly again, not wanting to harm any other injuries she might have, “Reah, wake up.”
"Much as I hate to say this: Damen's right. Reah certainly needs some care and rest. And you, Kolya..." Tash smiled faintly, "I am very glad you're alive, and I'm so sorry about Zoë and Ben. But there's something else going on with you now, too. Rest would be good for you right now, then we can work out who or what is in there with you."
She touched his face lightly with her gloved hand, as if to reassure herself he was real. "I can't believe you're alive. It's really the first bit of good news I've had for weeks."
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Thursday, 30th November 2006 - 7:30pm
Tash pushed open the doors to Bob's Bar with a sense of inevitability. It seemed that sometimes her whole life revolved around this seedy establishment. But she needed to know whether vampires were beginning to repopulate LA, and how quickly. And the man in the know would be Bob. So here she was, surveying the interior of the bar once more, noting that it seemed a fraction fuller than last time. A few more demons were about, and even one or two vampires. Tash watched a young, dark-haired waitress contend with a pair of demons at a corner table, and Tash silently wished the girl luck. Kate had once waitressed in this place, and had no good things to say about the experience.
She positioned herself at the bar, some distance from one of the vampires who was nursing a glass of foamy, amber fluid – in this place one made no assumptions about what the contents of a glass might be, but it looked like beer – and eyeing the pool table, apparently waiting for a chance to take a turn at the game. She watched him from the corner of her eye as she waited for Bob to approach. Something about the vampire seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
Then Bob plopped his dirty dishrag on the bartop in front of her and made a show of wiping it down as he asked, "What'll it be?"
Tash slid her $20 across the bar and said, "Brandy, thanks."
The note disappeared and soon a cheap glass of brandy appeared. Bob hung about waiting for the expected question and answer session. Tash didn't disappoint.
"Looks like business is picking up," she remarked conversationally. "You’ve even got yourself a new girl. I guess some of your old clientele are returning."
Bob nodded, "Yup, a few here and there. Not anything like what it used to be this time last year, though. But I expect it'll keep improving now that the neighbourhood's become a bit quieter again."
"Much as I expected. Any personages of note turned up lately?"
Bob shook his head, "Not so you'd notice." His eyes slid to the vampire sitting further down the bar, then back to Tash. "Just a new face or two, is all..." He left the sentence hang, indicating that there might be more information – for a price.
Tash sighed and withdrew another $20 note. "Another brandy, then. But better make this one a good one."
Bob sneered, fetched the usual cheap brandy and refilled her glass before leaning in closely and whispering, "Some may have been asking about you... seems dear old Ebony had a friend or two that aren't dead yet."
Tash recoiled slightly from Bob's foetid breath and made a wry face. "I see," she said, glancing sidelong at the vampire at the bar, wondering if that's why he looked familiar. Was he a surviving remnant of the Black Veins? She frowned – that didn't seem to fit for her. She shrugged and turned back to Bob. "Well, I can take care of myself, you know."
"Yeah, yeah, sure," Bob muttered as he took his grimy rag and made his way slowly down the bar away from her.
Tash determined to finish her brandy and leave, and proceeded to drink the cheap booze as fast as her taste buds could stand.
James sat on the stool beside the bar and slowly sipped his beer savouring the taste, although most people would cringe at the idea of savouring any drinks from Bob’s Bar, but when you’re almost four hundred year old and had to drink beer most of your natural life you develop a taste for vile beer. When he’d first come in Adriana had given him a wide-eyed stare, as if she couldn’t believe he’d come back here so soon, but James had just given her a wink and leered at her. Then laughed when she pointedly turned her back on him and continued serving the customers at the table she was on. Now he flung his head back and finished off the last of his drink and motioned for Bob to come over.
As Bob walked over to James he noticed the unusual look Bob was giving him. His eyes kept darting back to the woman sitting at the other end of the bar. As Bob neared James he spoke, “Yeah, what’ll it be?“
James gave him a stony gaze and replied, “Another beer.”
As Bob was about to leave James quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled him halfway over the bar so that his face was at his ear. With his free hand James pulled out a hundred dollar bill and placed it in Bob’s back pocket. “I want information on the killer of Ebony. Unfortunately when I went to see Jem some rather unfortunate things happened before she could get me the things I needed to track her down.“
Bob’s eyes were filled with fear as they darted to James and back to the woman. For his part Bob didn’t want to have to fix up the interior of his place again if there was another brawl, but then again, a hundred dollars was a hundred dollars… It didn’t take James long to figure out what the little snitch meant. James pushed Bob back over the bar, picked up his beer bottle and headed towards the woman.
Tash kept an eye on the approaching vamp, feeling the waves of animosity rolling from him. Bob's sidelong glances had told her this was the one looking for vengeance for Ebony, and naturally he'd sold her out. She'd expected nothing less from the little weasel. As the vampire drew close she rolled off the far side of the stool, placing it between them, and hurled the contents of her glass in his face.
The vampire's lip curled in a sneer, knowing that alcohol wouldn't hurt him, but as the liquid splashed over his face it sizzled and burned and his sneer turned to a snarl. Tash smiled and backed away. The second Bob had left her she'd drained half her drink and topped it up with holy water. A nice surprise, she thought. She backed for the door, a stake in each hand, preferring a fight in the open to one in the crowded bar.
James grabbed a nearby cloth that was damp and washed the holy water from his face, then headed out of the bar. As soon as he opened the door he saw a stake come at him from his left. Narrowly dodging it he had time to see that it was the woman from the bar.
James gave the woman a halfhearted smile as he backed off from her. "So you are the one who killed dear old Ebonia... I can see why. You don’t play by the rules."
James swung his fist wildly at her, trying to connect with her temple and leaving his chest wide open for attack. As Tash blocked the punch she leaned in with the stake, aiming to plunge it into his heart. As the stake neared he grabbed the stake with his left arm and pushed Tash hard, sending her backwards. James gave a wicked grin and he looked at the stake in his hand.
"You should know I’m not some chicken shit fledgling who hasn’t cut his teeth." James took the stake in both his hand, snapped it in two and tossed it in a nearby dumpster. "Well, what you waiting for? Let’s have it!"
"And you should know," Tash countered, brandishing her second stake, "That I'm not some fly-by-night hunter." She circled the vampire as she spoke, wary of his speed. She guessed him at around three or four hundred - very strange, considering the 'ethnic cleansing' campaign the Brotherhood had been on. Then it clicked. The Brotherhood.
"I know you," she said, her eyes narrowed. "You're one of the Broth... sorry, EX Brotherhood's lapdogs." She executed a dive-roll and came up behind the vampire, but he was already turning to face her again. Her stake imbedded itself in the vampire's shoulder. Painful, but most certainly a miss. She yanked it back out and skipped backwards again.
James looked at the wound Tash had created. "Naw, I hate vampires. Would never work for them – Ripper, on the other hand…" As James said this he swung his head viciously forward, trying to head butt Tash.
The blow caught her across the bridge of the nose, making her see stars for a second. She blinked as she danced sideways, hoping to evade the vampire’s attacks.
“Really?” she said almost conversationally as she waited for an opening, “It certainly looked like you. And you have to admit, you are a vampire.” Her tone turned sarcastic, “Don’t tell me – you have an identical twin who’s really the evil one, right?”
She saw her opportunity and lunged forward, dropping her knife from her wrist sheath into her free hand and slashing a thin red line across the vampire’s chest, but he knocked the knife aside, causing her to lose the advantage. Her follow up stake went wide, missing him completely.
James led in with a high knee to Tash’s ribs, hitting her hard and knocking the wind out of her. James quickly grabbed her arm and twisted it in a wristlock. "Actually less of an evil twin, more of the evil inside. You have heard of the whole Angel thing – vamp with a soul, one moment of pleasure goes all badass again? Well I’m more of an: I let my mental guard slip and Ripper is let loose to cause havoc."
He let go of Tash’s arm and grabbed her belt and collar, tossing her head first over a parked car.
Tash landed with a thump and the air whooshed out of her. Her fingers lost their grip on her stake and it rolled down the road as she lay on her back for a moment trying to see past the shooting stars in her vision. At least the vampire's throw had put a little distance between them. She could hear him approaching again, but had just enough time to draw her crossbow from her backpack as she rolled to her knees behind the now severely dented car. Pedestrians hurried by on the far side of the road, anxious to avoid this street brawl that had erupted before them. Tash ignored them as she sighted at the vampire charging towards her.
"And so this is you when you're being all sweetness and light? I see,” she said sarcastically. “So, I killed your girlfriend. You know what? She was an evil, bloodsucking freak, just like you." The bolt made a thwok noise as it left her crossbow, aimed right at the creature's heart.
As the blot flew true to its target James’ hand swung up and blocked the missile. He gave a look at Tash, "Nae joy."
James looked at the bolt that was protruding from his hand, grabbed one end and pulled it through, and the blood began to pour from the wound. "So, how did the fight with the Brotherhood go? I’m assuming you won."
Tash paused, the second bolt held at the ready, but the vampire seemed to be more interested in talking than fighting at this point. All to the good, so far as Tash was concerned. It might give her a chance to dust it without sustaining any more injuries. She could already feel where the bruises would be forming, and didn't fancy collecting any more.
She eyed the vampire up and down, "Well, you're still standing so I presume you're one of Krispin's or Valerian's brood. But," she cocked her head cheekily and shrugged, "seen your big bosses lately? I'm guessing not. They slunk out of their with their tails between their legs. I'm more interested in why you're still here - when Vincent and Darlome took you out of there I was hoping they'd at least stake you."
Her eyes narrowed and she hissed, "You didn't kill them, did you, you son of a bitch?"
James burst into hysterical laughter, "Maybe… I’ll let you figure that one out by yourself." He darted towards Tash and booted the crossbow out of her hand then stared down at her and gave his shit-eating grin.
She stared up at him for a second, trying to read behind those eyes, but like all vampires he was a telepathic null. So she performed a backflip, landing back on her feet facing the vampire. She had to admit, her curiosity had been piqued earlier when he’d spoken of his parallel to Angel. Who hadn’t heard of that particular vampire? *You’re playing with fire, Tash,* she admonished herself, but she couldn’t help it. She had to push.
“So, you’re another Angelus wannabe, huh? Reckon you’ve got a meaner, uglier side just lurking inside you?” She shook her head, “Though I dunno if you could get much uglier. You sure Ebony was your girlfriend? Seems to me she was more into pretty things.”
James growled, baring his teeth at Tash. "Angelus wannabe my arse! That little poof was half my fucking age, and as for Ebony..." James’ face contorted into his vamp face for the first time during the fight and swung a punch at her head which she easily dodged, "So what about you, Tash? I’ve heard a little about you from Bob and the surviving Black Veins – how’s Victor these days?"
The comment caught Tash completely off-guard, and the vampire’s fist smashed into her face while she stood there unmindful of the danger she was in. She reeled from the blow, spitting blood onto the pavement. Her head swung back up, her eyes ablaze, “You are not worthy to even have his name in your mouth, vampire.”
She launched a high kick at him, catching him in the chest and knocking him backwards a step or two. Tash advanced, fire coursing through her veins now. “As for you, ‘Ripper’, or however you want to style yourself, I’m more than happy for you to rejoin your ex-lover. She made a very nice little pile of dust herself, you know.”
James gave a half growl, "My name is James, and as I hear Victor wasn’t such a nice guy; very much like me, eh? I would think ME and Victor would have got along quite well; best friends, as it were." James jumped into the air, round house kicking Tash in the face and sending her sprawling across the car bonnet. "So what were his last words to you, Tash? Was it ‘I love you’... or was it something else?”
Victor’s final words to her floated across Tash’s mind. “Be strong, my love. Be strong. A part of you will grow and flourish on this world, and a part of me will travel back to my adopted home with you. You and I were one. You and I are forever one.” She struggled to her feet again, the memory of Victor’s calm acceptance of his fate bolstering her spirit.
“A soulless beast like you wouldn’t understand love,” she said evenly, “And you learned little of Victor if you think he would have done anything but fought by our side against your masters at the hotel.”
She was out of stakes. Her knives lay on the ground, inaccessible. Her remaining vials of holy water had smashed during the fight. The crossbow lay tantalisingly out of reach. So she withdrew her sole remaining weapon. The gun wouldn’t kill the vampire, but it could certainly put him out of commission long enough for her to find a weapon that would turn him to dust. Before she could fire, however, she heard the rapid approach of police sirens.
James gave his shit-eating grin again, "You know nothing of me or my love." He blew Tash a kiss, "I’ll see you later, darling."
James turned on his heel and set off through to the alleyway.
Also anxious to avoid the police, Tash quickly gathered her scattered weapons and hightailed it to her waiting motorbike. Riding down the road she grimaced to herself. *Great, make yourself a new vampire enemy. Just when you think you've got rid of the last one...* She shook her head in resignation and kept riding.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Reah’s Apartment
Wednesday the 8th November, 2006
10:34am
The sound of sizzling eggs filled the air.
Nikolai almost burned his hand on the plate as he stood in the middle of Reah's kitchen, in the middle of furiously cooking up a storm. To put it simply, he felt rather guilty still for what happened to Reah and needed to find some way to apologise. Food was something of a peace offering and thank you for letting him spend the night there.
"Strassvichye," he said, looking over his shoulder to see the form of a young woman obviously related to Reah peeking around the corner.
Quin’s eyebrow quirked in bemusement, *Reah sure does have a thing for the non-English ones. And why is he cooking?* “Um… hi?”
Nikolai chuckled inwardly, realising he'd switched to Russian. A large banquet was already prepared: french toast, pancakes, bacon, regular toast, eggs scrambled, and now eggs over easy - everything else being heated. "Sorry. Think I made enough? And any idea when Reah will be up and about?"
Quin shrugged, subconsciously rubbing the back of her head at the mention of her cousin, “More often than not she sleeps through most of the day. Her head's in a pretty bad way, though, this time…” Quin shivered at the memory of all the dried blood she had to help her cousin wash off. Even her blonde hair had come out with a reddish orange tint to it. “So I don’t know.”
"And you're responsible," the voice of L'Than echoed in his head. Nikolai winced physically at the realisation that she was right. Try as he might to justify his actions, he really couldn't. Not after everything they'd been through; he should have known that she could not go through with it. But then why had she even tried?
"Damn," he said softly, flipping the eggs over one final time. It wasn't like him to feel this kind of guilt over something simple like this. What was going on with him?
"She... she didn't tell you what happened, did she?" he asked half hoping Reah had, half hoping she had not.
“In her state?” Quin questioned as if to say ‘are you kidding me’? Softly she thought aloud more to herself than to Nikolai, “She was lucky if she could count to one!”
"Oh." He continued to stare down at the food he was still in the middle of preparing. "Um, feel free to help yourself to something if you want it."
Quin nodded, her eyebrows drawn down enquiringly at the guilt she could smell that seemed to be rolling off the man in waves. She could’ve drawn conclusions if she wanted, but she preferred not to for the sake of her sanity. Glancing at one of the pancakes - she loved pancakes - Quin willed herself not to take any until Reah was up, at least. This looked like a forgiveness banquet.
“I think dinner might have been a safer bet. That’s if you were counting on Reah to actually be conscious to eat it.”
"Let's just say I had high hopes." Nikolai finished off the final eggs, putting them aside as well. He noted Quin eyeing the pancakes with obvious hunger and enough reticence to surprise him. "Go ahead and take some - I'm not hungry and someone may as well enjoy this while it's hot. Or is something wrong?"
Quin sighed, watching him sympathetically. Whatever was going on - which she refused to contemplate - he was trying to do something nice and make up for it, “Did you want me to go get her?”
"Only if she's up to it." He sighed again, seeing that grey-scaled figure for an instant, shaking his head. She was gone again. At last, he could get some peace, at least for a day. "I've done enough already."
Quin nodded, slipping away from the kitchen and leaving the morose man behind while she left to fetch Reah.
Very carefully, Quin quietly turned the handle that lead into Reah’s darkened room and quietly slipped inside, closing the door behind her again, but leaving a small crack of light to filter in so she could see. Tiptoeing across the floor, she gently eased herself to squat down beside the bed, then reached out blindly until she found the limp form of her cousin.
“Reah?… Reah?”
“Urrg… no offence Quin… but fuck off!”
Quin frowned desultorily, then gave her cousin a healthy shove, “Nikolai’s in the kitchen. He’s gone mad, again.”
Reah groaned in annoyance, the bed shifting slightly as her weight lifted and fell again, “That crazy bloody mudack!” Rolling out of bed, Reah slumped onto the floor with a ‘thud’. Her head still spun slightly, but not so much that she couldn’t at least stumble awkwardly out on her own.
“Just don’t let me walk into a wall,” Reah muttered, reaching dazedly for her sword as she passed.
Quin stood there for a moment, then shook her head in bewilderment at the umbrella her cousin picked out.
Nikolai heard the sounds of the stumbling, and bolted towards the bedroom in order to see better what was going on. After checking on Reah, and much protests from her of his help - she could walk just fine with ONE person helping, thank you very much - and wanting to know what he was doing this time, Nikolai refused to say anything until she reached the kitchen. This earned him a quite vicious look, followed by an ominous 'what the fuck' look when she saw the food.
"Um...." he started. "I, uh, kind of felt like... I should... apologise... for last night."
Reah groaned. She doubted she could eat a single biscuit, let alone a whole banquet, without throwing it back up. “Nik,” she sighed, raising her umbrella weakly then dropping it to the floor, her hand falling slack by her side while the other rubbed tiredly at her forehead.
Nikolai moved over by her side and helped Reah reach a chair, this time with less protest on her part to the whole endeavour. "Nyet, don't start," he said to her while she rubbed her head. "I should have known; Tash was right in her implication. I have to, this now... it's my fault. I planned it, kicked the shit out of you... I'm the one who needs to ask forgiveness."
Reah rolled her eyes back at Nikolai, briefly searching for Quin’s reaction just beside him.
Quin stood there, her gaze calmly turned pointedly on Nikolai, yet not, silently interrogating him with a look of: “Now why the hell did you admit that? I was purposely ignoring all the blatant signs for a reason. You - complete - wanker!” No words could accurately describe how she was feeling at that very moment.
“Nik,” Reah started, taking a compromising tone around her pounding head, “Shut up! You don’t need to apologise for anything, because I’m not accusing you of anything. OK?”
“Reah! He beat the crap out of…” Quin burst out incredulously, then paused at the look she receive from her cousin. Muttering to herself, Quin turned about and headed towards the piled up pancakes in still in the kitchen, “Dodgy mongrels.”
Nikolai sighed, wondering how it was even possible that someone living with Reah could have no idea at all that she did not exactly walk the straight and narrow path to profit. Quin undoubtably was pissed off beyond the point of all passivity now as well.
"No, nobody's said anything. Damnit, Reah!" His voice dropped to a low hiss, so that Quin could not hear, "I was ready to execute you, right there and almost did if Trigger didn't stop me."
Reah ducked her head, cupping her ears protectively in an attempt to ignore Quin’s excessively loud search for cutlery, and hissed her own reply back, “Nik, if you had, what was I to care? I’d be dead! But I’m not, so ‘yay’ for me! If you should be apologising to anyone, you should be apologising to yourself. You’re the one torturing yourself over this; not me.” She sniffed, “Besides, I wasn’t exactly playing Miss Meek! If anything, I was helping to dig my own grave.”
Moaning, she rocked her head forward into cradling hands and murmured past her wrists, “If anyone should be in here apologising, it should be bloody Damen!” A low growl rolled in the back of her throat, “Fucking asshole.”
Despite himself, Nikolai laughed, before smiling ever so slightly. She really had been spending a lot of time with him. "Trust me, 'fucking asshole' is probably the most polite thing he's ever been called." His breath came heavily. What was he doing beating himself up over that?
"But no, Trigger... owed me one. I kind of saved his life several years ago, in a job in Sicily. Really, he can be quite an amusing guy to hang around once you learn that he really does have a volcanic temper and that you can't take his rants too seriously." Nikolai suddenly stopped. It did strike him that the two would probably get along very well without the whole trying to kill each other thing right beneath the surface of any relationship between them. Though she was certainly right that the man was an asshole.
Reah’s blatant stare at Nikolai was only just short of glaring, “I don’t see what’s so funny. He had his suspicions I was innocent. Did he tell you that? I don’t care what favours he owes: I swear I’ll castrate the man next time I see him.”
"No, he didn't," Nikolai confessed, before realising that Damen had said nothing openly either... but must have known something. *And can you put your foot any further in your mouth?*
"But I know he did like you, and probably didn't want to see you hurt too much. Me... well, you know me. He wouldn't have been able to talk me out of it, and if he tried I would have probably just ditched him. Leaving you completely unprotected." And that, he hoped, should discharge his duty to Damen in protecting him from the wrath of Reah. Which, if the cave on G'rnatha was any indication, could probably mean snapping his body in half.
“Completely unprotected you say?” Reah had to quirk an eyebrow at that, “Nik, my guards were probably more dropped with bloody Damen there,” she muttered, thinking aloud more than actually addressing Nikolai. “Bloody mudack.”
"Just... can you try to understand where he was coming from?" Nikolai asked, finally looking away from Reah. He couldn’t stand to see her there with her bloodstained hair. "Reah, there's something I have to ask. When you tried to do the - job - you said some things about how you felt. How, how much of that did you mean?"
“I don’t know…” Reah rubbed at her temples, frustrated. “I don’t really remember anything. My head feels like a fucking… crap… thing! I don’t know.”
“Maybe it was because someone beat the crap out of you.”
“Quin!” Reah yelled irritably over her shoulder at her cousin’s quiet mumblings. She did, however, remember the night in question. She couldn’t forget it if she tried.
Nikolai stood to face Quin, still with guilt clearly on his face though this was now tempered with rage. "I can understand your anger, but it was... ok, it wasn't business. I took it personally and that was my mistake. But how many times do you need me to apologise?"
“NONE!” Reah screamed at him, unexpectedly jumping up from her seat in his face, causing him to stumble backwards. “Okay? None! That’s what I’ve been bloody saying for the past however long. Bloody hell!” Reah slumped herself heavily back down on her chair and reached across for a spoon, supporting her head with her other hand, “Thank you for breakfast.”
Nothing moved. No one even dared breathe. A sudden clang had both Quin and Nikolai jumping out of their socks when Quin’s fork slipped unnoticed from her fingers, colliding with the kitchen bench.
"You're welcome," Nikolai finally said quietly, looking at Reah to Quin and back to Reah again. "Excuse me."
He hurried back out into the living room and, when he was sure he was alone, sat on the couch with head in hands.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Flashback
29th of June, 2062
23:54
“Shit! C’mon! Can’t this thing go faster?”
“SHUT UP! If it could go any faster, do you think I’d just cruise about with two fucken Lonestar patrol cars on my arse?”
“Hard right!”
“Watch her head.”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“Hard left! Right again… Hard one eighty!”
“All right! We get it! You like going hard!”
“Hehehehe, check that shit out ya bastards.” The rigger chuckled manically to himself as he watched the patrol cars fly straight past them, then he skilfully sped off through multiple other back streets, losing them for good.
Reah moaned, lifting a hand to the back of her head, “Yay for me: I have moosh for brains.”
“Shh… don’t stress babe.” The tall half-elf, Dre’an, motioned soothingly with his hands, tenderly massaging her temples. He smiled encouragingly down at her, “That’ll teach us for not bringing a mage along, eh?”
Reah smirked dazedly back up at him and let out a small chuckle that sent splitting pains through her brain.
“We’re here!”
“C’mon! Time to go!” Dre’an heft Reah up, looping her arm around his shoulders as the small party of four exited the rear doors of the van while the rigger stayed where he was, waiting for any signs of the Lonestar cars they’d lost.
***
The fact that he had lived to be nintey-one years old he considered no small miracle. Nikolai Makarov spent a long time questioning why he of all people should, with what he had done in the past, be able to live so long and have the luck to survive so many crises in the world. Still, he had done well for himself in those decades after the various problems arose. His talents, guided by the demonic spirit L’Than who had long ago become a part of him, led him eventually to the practice of medicine.
He’d become one of the first of the Docs, and now had his own clinic. It was, he reflected, a simple design with a reception area and a cordoned off operating area. He had a staff of anywhere from one to three people at any given time, usually young Docs coming to learn the trade. But now he was old and only Alex was there, a young but pretty girl who had heard rumours about the Doc.
Nikolai felt, more than anything else, the distress outside. It was one of the things he’d learned to recognise over the years, as people bolted for his doors. The apartments were off to the side of the operating theatre, and Nikolai was out of his bed and stumbling to the door in no time. He pulled on a white pair of pants, jacket, and green shirt without thinking. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” he muttered.
A glance at a monitor revealed the assembled group outside, a total of four people. One of them was a pretty blonde girl with what seemed to be a nasty gash on her head; a male half-elf and male human mercenary appeared lightly wounded in comparison. The female decker appeared uninjured. He opened the door for the assembled group outside, well used to this by now, but still making them stop in surprise. “Don’t just stand there bleeding on the sidewalk, get inside.”
“Hey Doc, she really needs help,” prompted Quent, the mercenary, as he stepped forward ahead of the other three, cradling his arm. “We did what we could, but…” He shot a disapproving glance outside, past the wall where he knew the rigger was sitting in his van, “…someone had forgotten to stock up on the med-kit.”
The three, excluding Reah who was too busy mourning her split skull, had already assumed that the street Doc had worked out what they were; but that didn’t necessarily require admitting it. Liz had found him via the matrix while they were still in the rigger's van.
“Her skull's split,” Dre’an added helpfully.
The amount of pain radiating from the girl was amazing. Nikolai finished ushering them inside as he noticed Alex making her way into the reception room. “Ah, good, you’re up,” he called out, yawning. “The girl is our first priority. Split skull, I’m betting lost – oh, that’s not good.”
He glanced down at Reah’s now-unconcious form in the Elf’s arms. Nikolai reached over the desk to hit the buzzer that opened up the operating area. “Go on!” Young people! Always needing to be told what to do by doctors, and going and doing stupid things like getting their skulls split open. Alex’s concern still radiated off her, and he was glad that he had picked her to take over the business when he could no longer continue.
When they were inside, the first order of business was a quick blood sample and analysing that before getting the young woman on a transfusion. Laying her down on her belly with head laying off the bed, supported by a rest, would not be pleasant for her but would provide the ability to work. “Cinder block?”
“Metal pole,” the Elf said.
“Hitting someone with a metal pole… that’s just mean, man.” He got no arguments from the runners on that point, though there were a couple of odd looks. Still, something seemed familiar about the girl.
“Is she awakened?”
At the elf’s shaking head, Nikolai slapped a patch on the girl’s arm before turning back to the runners. “You two, over on the other side of the room,” he told the injured ones before turning to the decker, “And you, wait outside.”
Dre’an eyed the doctor sceptically, drawing a sigh from the old man. "I like to respect my patient's privacy and keep a clean working area. If she wants to show you her brains, she can open up her skull again later for you." He harshly pointed back to the other side of the room again, this time with the half-elf complying.
“Bloody hell,” Reah moaned, her eyes rolling up to the doctor standing over her as she was rushed into the operating theatre. “Are you a mage at all?”
"No chicanery and balderdash from me," he assured the girl on the table, as Alex brought over the appropriate instruments. He set to work on the back of her skull, peeling away the appropriate bits so that he could examine the bone. "Right then, let's get to work."
The whole process took a while to complete. About three fourths of the way through the procedure, he felt the memories of earlier in his life start to come back. That voice sounded familiar as well. It must... but no. If it was her, she would be in her seventies by now.
He sent Alex off to deal with the other two as he remembered exactly who this was. He had met her before! Reanna Kossinton. *Time travel. I should have remembered.* Reah let out a loud groan as he continued to work. "Oh be quiet, you weren't this vocal the last time I had your skull open. True, there was tranqs involved, but…” He shrugged as he quietly muttered the last.
Reah blinked her eyes open, frowning at the doctor as best she could while he was seated behind her, operating on her head. "WTF, mate?"
Nikolai searched through his memory, feeling the genuine confusion behind her question. "I certainly hope I'm not becoming senile," he said, moving to look behind her ear. "You're Reah, aren't you - wha? Where'd the slug go?"
“Um… yeah… I’m Reah.” Reah frowned, *How does he know my name? Did Dre‘an tell him?* If the old man hadn’t had such a firm grip on her head, she would have shaken it in confusion, “And what slug? I hate slugs!” She felt a sudden need to get away, *This crazy old man is operating on-my-skull!*
Nikolai stopped and stared at the back of her head for a moment, as clarity finally dawned. Time travel. It all made perfect sense. "I hate temporal mechanics."
Reah tried to struggle away again, an understandable response that he did not blame her for. He had, after all, lived through her future already. Even if that future was in the past. "Almost done, don't worry."
*And not a moment too soon!* Reah tried to eye him suspiciously, anxiously awaiting for the moment she could jump out of the chair and be on her way. *Dre'an and bloody Qyent can wait till we find a bloody mage!*
Reah's Apartment
Wednesday the 8th November, 2006
21:04
Reah’s eyes blinked hazily as she slowly drifted in and out of sleep, frowning at the remnants of a dream that’s memory still remained fresh in her mind before it slowly dissipated and she slipped back into her oblivion.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Flashback
1st of July, 2062
19:46
The bar was oddly crowded, given the time.
Reah shuffled across on her bench seat, her face a mixture of revolt and annoyance as what she had to describe as the smelliest, fattest troll parked its ass right down beside her, nearly engulfing her legs with its rolls of fat alone! The troll then proceeded to quaff its beer, generous deposits of it spluttering off the side, showering Reah with its healthy stench that now soaked through her clothes, right down to her skin.
“Hey!” Slamming her fist down hard on the bench and wrenching herself out of the seat, Reah turned on the troll. “You wanna stop that, fatty?” The troll slightly lowered their oversized pint to stare quizzically at Reah. “Yeah, I’m talking to you.”
“P.O., puny girl. Lemme fin’ ma drink.”
“Lemme keep the circulation to ma ligs!” Reah mimicked the troll with an attitude that could definitely be improved upon.
She’d been called up by that freak of a doctor, and she couldn’t help but feel a tad annoyed and confused that she’d actually accepted.
“Ya threat’nin mi?”
“What if I am?”
The troll lowered his beer to the bench and slowly rose from his seat, towering a good two feet above her, and cracked his knuckles.
Reah’s grin was feral. “Bring it on, fatty!”
***
When the car stopped outside of the bar, it was Alex who got out of the driver's side before opening the door. Nikolai moved slower as he got out, clutching his chest in slight pain. "Are you sure you should do this?" asked Alex, catching him before he fell.
"I've got no choice. Not if the past is going to happen," was his reply. She sighed, knowing that when the doctor got something into his head he only rarely got the idea out of it. The pair made their way in the bar, sifting through the various emotions until he found the pair.
"Is that her?"
"It has to be. I don't know anyone else capable of being that pissed off who's still alive." There was a note of regret in his voice when they started over towards the young blonde woman and the troll. Nikolai looked like nothing so much as he did someone in one of those casual suits with a 1960s or perhaps 1970s look to him.
Both were shocked out of their near confrontation by Nikolai's voice. "You have got to be kidding me. Are you two really going to fight? Really, that's just childish and uncalled for."
"Ya stay outta this!" the troll growled.
Nikolai could tell his anger wasn't abating a single bit, but there was a small potential fear. Everyone in the bar knew Nikolai. Around this town, he was the Doc you went to if something was wrong. "Really, if you want to fight, I could call Porter," he suggested, making the troll gulp. Porter was a human runner, cybernetically enhanced to the teeth, and very well known for his fighting ability. "Now if you make me do that, I expect you'll be needing patching up. I'd just as soon not have to put your arms back in their sockets, but whatever gets you off!”
The troll gulped again, took a look at Reah. Fear finally won out over rage, and he stalked off. "I'm sorry about that, my dear," Nikolai said, taking a seat on the barstool next to her. A nod to the bartender and his usual drink appeared.
Reah’s thankless gaze turned to the old man. She was seething now. “Gee thanks! Don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Now I look like a bloody weakling.” Reah grumbled inwardly, then smiled and nodded to him, “No really! I appreciate it! Using a street samurai as intimidation to save me? Pure class: my hero! Can I get you a drink? What’s your poison? Arsenic?”
Nikolai sighed, taking a long drink from the one that had already arrived. "You haven't changed a bit, Reah. Well let me assure you that your reputation is safe. Everyone in this bar knows I have a reputation." He suddenly stopped, turning to face her. It had been a long time since he felt that level of anger from her, and even longer since she'd done her macho routine on him. "You know, I almost forget that this is only the second time - well, the second time for you - that we've met. Have I mentioned that I hate temporal mechanics?"
“Hey!”
Reah frowned silently over her own drink that she just swiped from the table behind her, ignoring the person’s distant angry protests and threats that followed.
“Are you purposely trying to freak me out? Or does this just come naturally to you?” *I swear, the future will never stop wigging me… Did I actually just think the word ‘wigging’?*
Reah shook her head ruefully before continuing,v“Look. Can we just cut the crap and get to the point of this meeting? I have to improve the face of a troll, and frankly,” Reah’s nose made a point of twitching, detecting the air, “you smell funny.”
"You really need to learn how to relax a little, not that I blame you for ending up this way." Nikolai held up a hand before she cut him off again. "All right, all right. We're actually going to be seeing a bit more of each other. My past, your future. How should I put this..."
He stopped for a moment deep in thought, taking a drink. Once he figured out what was going on, he knew that he had sent himself a message back in time. Which meant that he had to send the message so that he would get it when he was supposed to. "I need you to do one thing. When Nikolai is sitting there making you a breakfast banquet, tell him to find Svetlana Vladimirevna. She'll be staying at the Ramada in Canoga Park, and will lead you to Sabarov."
Reah sat unmoving, lips pursed disbelievingly as she watched the old man ramble on, then nodded patronisingly. “Riiight… And I’m supposed to believe this? Let alone remember it! Look,” she pointed at the old man accusingly, “I have no idea who any of those people are, I’ve only just met you and you creep me out, and even if you did - by some weird happenstance - know I was from the past, are you aware of when? Yet,” Reah let her head drop to the side doubtfully, “after all these years you managed to remember to tell me, and not only that, but you remembered the exact details! Sell crazy some place else: we’re all stocked up here!”
Nikolai shrugged his shoulders. He knew that she had no reason to believe him, but a couple of things made more sense. If she thought now was strange, she should have been there... how the hell do you think of time when you skip around in it? "I'm sure you'll manage - and it's 2006 that you came from I believe. Cheers," he added, raising his drink in salute before draining it.
Reah could only stare at the man, her eyes wide with astonishment. She soon wiped it off her face and picked up her own drink to take a swig. “2005, wise ass.”
Sipping her beer in silence, she contemplated the information she’d just received, especially if it turned out to be true. *I have a hard enough time remembering my shopping list once a week, I don’t even want to imagine what something like this'd be like!* Sighing, she muttered thoughtfully to herself before finishing the rest of her beer in one long, drawn out scull. “I suppose I could just get it tattooed on my ass.”
Nikolai coughed suddenly and violently, waving off Alex before she could move over. "Please, don't, for the love of god." He felt the pains starting up in his chest again. As soon as he realised, he should have known. *A dying man told me.* It felt odd, sending a message back to himself so that he would be alive to send back said message...
He stood up, managing to keep on his feet. "I'm sorry, but I have to leave. It's nice to see one of the old faces one last time." Nikolai coughed again as Alex helped him to make his way out of the bar.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Nikolai’s Apartment
Thursday the 9th November, 2006
11:21am
Nikolai sat in his apartment, having reclaimed Tolstoy from Oz downstairs. He saw little point in talking to the angel, wanting mainly to be alone. It was just so... difficult to have that level of certainty, to know that Reah really couldn't go through with it. Yet at the same time to lack her forgiveness. Quin wouldn't talk to him afterwards. Tasha he didn't want to have that conversation with. He was left in a complete dead end, and the only thing he could think of now was to sleep light and try to set a trap for his former boss. Try to capture someone sent for him, interrogate that person.
"You did the right thing, trying to make it up to her," the demon said, her form standing behind him while the cat slept peacefully on the couch next to him. "I know it is a difficult debt to repay, Kolya. But you will find a way, and perhaps a nobler route than revenge."
Nikolai sighed, looking at last at the ghostly companion. He really wished she would go away. "Will you just leave me alone, L'Than? I did what I could to save you, it wasn't enough."
"Then why am I here?"
Before he could answer, there was the sound of a knock at the door. He slowly, carefully moved towards it with pistol drawn, seeing Reah standing outside through the peephole. He was amazed at how well she had cleaned herself up since yesterday. *Maybe she will forgive me?*
"You know she isn't here for that, Kolya. Consider what you do carefully, and follow your conscience." Nikolai shook his head slowly, putting the sidearm away before slowly opening the door.
"He-hello, Reah," he said, a bit hesitantly. "Please, come in."
Reah bowed her head silently with a passive face as she entered his apartment. She’d felt bad for snapping at him the previous morning, but the entire fiasco was just so confusing that it was hard to keep track of who should be angry at who, and why. Nikolai’s apology breakfast banquet had affected her the most… but not solely in the way she’d expected. It had sparked something inside her: memories - ones she’d long since forgotten had surfaced in her night's dreams.
Walking straight past Nikolai she headed deeper into his apartment without even checking to see if she was followed and turned about, pacing back and forth, shooting a brief, awkwardly apologetic smile up at him when he approached.
“Nik,” Reah started, completely out of the blue as she turned back sharply in mid-pace. “I think I remembered something. I mean; I did! Kind of… I’m just… Last night… yesterday morning… Your breakfast…” She purposely ignored the abashed look that came over Nikolai, waving him off as she continued to pace and think. She’d hoped that being in his presence would help bring whatever it was back. She was only there purely for that reason alone and didn‘t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with another apology session.
Nikolai blinked, shutting and locking the door. L'Than was right, she definitely wasn't there to grant him forgiveness. He tried to think of something to say, since she obviously wanted to remember what it was.
"Don't start with me," he said, with a pointed look at the L'Than figure. "Not you, her," he added to Reah who looked up at him quizzically.
He led Reah into the living room, Tolstoy picking his head up on the couch to look at the young blonde woman. After a moment's consideration the cat stretched and sat up, with all the regal bearing of a king come to accept a new subject's oath of fealty to him.
"Want something to drink?" Nikolai offered.
“Hm, what?” Reah barely raised her head distractedly, catching a brief sight of the feline sniffing at her leg. Frowning, she muttered away in reply, lost in her own world, not even hearing her own words. “Um… yeah… cat in the fridge… of course…” *What was it?*
Nikolai shook his head at Reah. "I swear Reah, you're never going to change."
He moved back over towards the couch, offering her a chair. Tolstoy glanced at the new subject one final time before deciding it was time to reclaim the spot on the back of the couch. "Ok, you started to remember something. Any idea what?"
“If I knew, then I wouldn’t be having any trouble remembering,” she replied irritably, surfacing somewhat from her closed off world. Reah shook her head at the constant distractions about her. *Maybe I’ll think better if I go to the toilet. Two birds, one whopper of a sto…*
Then suddenly…
“MY ASS!” Reah cried out triumphantly.
Tolstoy picked up his head in surprise at the sudden outburst. Nikolai sat there dumbfounded. Even the spirit of L'Than could think of nothing to say to that. At last, Nikolai spoke.
"Your... ass?" he said slowly.
Reah slapped her head as everything started to fall flawlessly into place. “Shit! I remember!
“Nik,” she motioned him towards her, rolling her wrist while pushing down the top of her pants with her thumb tucked firmly over the hip hugging hem, edging it down and revealing more of the tattoo that just peeked over the top. “Quick, check out my ass. We’ll find Sabarov yet!”
Nikolai shook his head. The woman had gone completely bonkers. "Reah, the first time I tried to undress you, I got a dislocated jaw. The second time you almost killed me. I'm not falling for it again!"
"I think you should listen to her."
"L'Than, just... please, don't start. Ah, hell," he added this last, going along with it for peace of mind. He couldn't believe that he was actually doing this, but it was either humour her or risk the wrath of Reah and a lecture from L'Than. "Right, what am I looking for?"
Reah shook her head ruefully, *Think before you say!* “My tattoo… here.” She twisted around, trying to peer over her shoulder down her back at the intricate design. She’d nearly all but forgotten what it was actually about when she had it done. “Don’t ask me why, just see if you can make out what it says within the design.”
Nikolai tried his best to focus on the small, intricate design. This had to be a prank he thought, it just had to be. Which was when he caught part of a name. "Svetlana." He focused more, making out a series of individual words. "Nikolai Svetlana Vladimirevna Ramada Sabarov."
He looked up at Reah, with no small amount of surprise on his face. Svetlana Vladimirevna. That was a name he had not heard in a long time. She was one of the people he'd worked for in the old days, if she was around that was probably who Sabarov was employed by now. "How did... Reah, how do you know Svetlana Vladimirevna?"
Reah grinned victoriously, *That old man could yet prove himself right! Still crazy… and in bad need of deodorant… But right!* Shrugging, she readjusted her pants into place and wandered over to a nearby bench, picked up a pen and began fiddling subconsciously with it.
“I don’t!” she smiled back at him wondrously. “But you do don’t you?”
Nikolai nodded. There was no reason to lie to Reah about his connections. "Da. She is a lieutenant for Dmitri Alexsandrevich Voronov. Ex-KGB as well - you would be surprised how many of us went into crime, it's why the Russian mob is so brutal."
He looked up at her in genuine curiosity. "So why is her name tatooed on your ass, along with Nikolai, Ramada, and Sabarov?"
She smirked knowingly, “As a reminder. I’ve never been good at keeping track of pieces of paper.” Reah swayed her arms about as she strolled lazily about the room, head rolled back as she stared reminiscently at the ceiling, light laughter escaping between her lips. “She’s going to tell us where to find Sabaaa-rov!”
For some strange unknown reason to herself, she’d begun chuckling and swaying about the room as if stuck in some trance, dancing to music that only she could hear, *‘I hate temporal mechanics!’ I get it now!* She laughed silently as the holes in her memory refilled themselves.
Nikolai was dumbfounded again. "Are you insane?"
"Kolya, she is sincere in her belief," said L'Than, a look of regret in her eyes. "Are you sure you wish to go through with this?"
He whirled on the demonic form. "Go. Away. Now." Reah stopped her dancing for a moment, looking at his back turned to her as he spoke to empty air again. "I don't need you to start again about how evil and wrong revenge is."
"Of course not," L'Than said, bowing her head slightly. "You know my position by now, but you are changing, Kolya. Are you sure you can even go through with it?"
"Yes. And I will."
“Hey, Nik…” Reah placed a careful hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump. “Are you quite done? I know you have your demon thingy chick - you told me as much yesterday - but is it at all possible for you to communicate mentally between each other? You look like a crazy person!”
Nikolai turned to face Reah again, looking more than a little embarrassed. He felt like a crazy person: L'Than was a dead 'demon chick' after all. "I'm sorry, but no. I'm not a telepath!" He remembered what she said earlier, then, a reminder. "A reminder? Who could give you a reminder and how would you know that we need this now? Hmmm?"
Reah raised her eyebrows at the sudden shot of defensiveness that Nikolai had just struck her with. “Some really smelly old dying man told me… What? Don’t go looking at me like that! I’m not the crazy one here.” She poked her tongue out. For some reason, when the word ‘crazy’ rolled off it, something else seemed to spark within her, *Crazy Nik… crazy old… Nah! It couldn’t have been!… Could it?*
Reah’s eyes squinted as she leaned in closer, trying to study Nikolai’s features. She soon gave up, waving off her curiosity and persisted to just stand there; arms crossed firmly in front of her torso.
Nikolai turned to face the young woman, studying her intently. She seemed to be immensely pleased with herself, as though she had just puzzled out some great mystery which was long forgotten. ‘A really old dying man,’ she said. The only ‘really old man’ that Nikolai knew was Dmitri. But something told him that it wasn’t exactly Dmitri who told her the information.
No, this was a long time ago. Had it been recent, she wouldn’t have felt compelled to get a tattoo. Which raised a more interesting question: how would anyone know that she would need that information? And why Svetlana? *Unless she was connected somehow.*
“Reah,” he said, getting her attention. “I think we need to have a talk.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 1st, 2006
6:00 am
The large door clicked shut behind him as Darian stepped out into the sunrise of the brisk, cool December morning. Had December arrived already? There was the memorial in early November, then immediately afterward he had moved from his old apartment to Poplar Avenue. But since then he spent all his time alone in his new place. Days melted together, and the time passed by without him even noticing.
But enough was enough. It was time for Darian to stop depressing over the tragedies of the past, and move on with life; hence the early morning walk. The fae figured it would do him good to get out, get fresh air, and who knows, maybe later that afternoon even introduce himself to his new first floor neighbor who he had somehow managed not to meet in practically an entire month. *Yep,* he thought happily, stepping out onto the street, *it will definitely be nice to have a regular day.*
Cole walked aimlessly about the streets of LA, not sure what to do or where to go. Just last night when he had gone back to his “home” with the other squatters, he had been shocked to discover that everyone was gone. The police had raided the abandoned apartment and kicked everyone out. What really sucked however, was the fact that Alisson and Jake didn’t even bother waiting for him, or at the least leave him a note. Once again he was alone and back on the streets, and this time he didn’t even have the option of going to Chance’s or Alessa’s. He had definitely done a good job in screwing up his friendship with the two.
*You’re a fucking dumb-ass idiot Cole,* he thought angrily, thinking back to the hurtful things he had said to Chance - things he definitely didn’t mean. If only he could go back to that night, and not act like a bratty teen like he had. Of course, traveling back in time was not on the list of things Cole could do, so he tried to shift his thoughts to other things; but that too was rather unfruitful. The kid had nothing good or happy to think about, everything in his life was crap. And because everything he thought about was dark and depressing he had no choice but to do what he did as of late when he couldn’t escape the darkness; take drugs.
Reaching into his pocket he retracted the faithful plastic baggy. Cole frowned as he looked down. Only three pills left; it wouldn’t keep him going for long. *Keep me going, going where?* The teen’s shoulder’s slouched as he finally just gave up.
“Screw this,” he said aloud as he mindlessly swallowed all three pills consecutively. He didn’t know or care about the consequences of taking to many; he just wanted the pain to go away. Of course, soon enough the pain did start to leave, as artificial happiness came floating into his system. Everything would be ok again for a brief time. Now the only bother was the chilly December air, which would easily be fixed with a slight heat spell.
Cole closed his eyes and began humming softly. The spell was simple enough and would soon turn his body into a magnet for the warmth in the air. The spell finished and Cole waited. *Huh… why isn’t it working?* His question was almost instantly answered as a blast of heat slammed into his body. At first the warmth was soothing, but after a few seconds the temperature began to rise higher and higher.
“What… What's going..?” Cole stumbled back as the intense heat washed over him. His head began to swim, and his body began to sweat profusely; no one had ever told him that doing magic while on drugs was not the smartest thing one could do.
A few streets down, Darian’s otherwise calm and relaxing walk was suddenly interrupted. *That’s really odd,* the fae thought, feeling a rather dramatic shift in the area’s energy. A normal human wouldn’t have been the wiser to such a change, but someone who was part faery could easily pick up the rushing currents of magical energy. Quickly, he began to follow the stream to its mysterious destination.
“Holy Shit!”
Darian had found himself led into a small back alleyway where the mystical forces were culminating into the small frame of the teenage kid he had saved from Dathan in the battle at the Hyperion. The boy was shaking uncontrollably, and strange orange markings were flashing over his strained face.
Rushing over to him, Darian reached out and touched his forehead. Cole’s skin was far beyond any temperature that was normal, and it seemed that any second the kid would self combust. Darian placed both his hands on the kid’s face and began to reach down into Evexus’ magical powers. Blue light began to wash over Cole as Darian commanded the air around the teenager to drop in temperature. Once the immediate threat of him immolating had passed, Darian scooped up his shaking frame into his arms and moved into the shadows, disappearing completely from view. He couldn’t risk letting people see him in his condition, and he definitely couldn’t take him to a hospital; the only option was to take him back to his apartment. *So much for a normal day.*
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Friday, 1st December 2006 – 6:52am
Rushing into the apartment building, Darian frantically looked about for anything or anyone that could help him. In his arms he could feel the kid’s body growing warmer. *Ah, bloody hell! Come on, don’t do this.* Once again the fae began to glow a soft blue as he concentrated on lowering the temperature around his figure, thereby cooling down Cole.
“Just hold on kid,” he said fearfully, as he managed to open up his apartment door and sped into his bedroom. After gently lowering the boy and opening all the windows in the room, Darian ran back out into the hallway and up the stairwell to the second floor.
“REAH!!,” he screamed, pounding on the door. “Reah, you there!?”
“Bloody hell!”
From separate bedrooms, both Reah and Quin swore simultaneously at the rapid knocking at their apartment door. Quin rolled about in her bed and stuffed her head firmly under her pillow, while Reah glared balefully at the ceiling, cursing the half fae. *Fucking bloody… Someone should really teach him some bloody manners!*
Darian fidgeted nervously outside as he waited for a response. When none came after fifteen seconds he decided he could delay no longer, so he raced up to Tash’s floor. Again he knocked anxiously as he called out her name several times.
"Dammit, can't a girl get a full night's sleep around here any more?" Tash grumbled to herself as the frantic knocking grew louder. She could hear Darian's voice calling her name, a note of panic in it. "Hang on," she called out, "I'm coming, Darian."
She groaned as the stiffness from last night's fight made itself felt. Her ribs were bruised and her whole body ached. Still, she found a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, slipping into them before padding to the door and opening it with one hand while rubbing her sleep-encrusted eyes with the other. "It's ok, Darian. Calm down. Where's the horde of demons?"
The man wasted no time as he grabbed Tash’s arm and practically dragged her from her apartment. “There’s a kid in my apartment…well not a kid, but the kid, you know from the Hyperion, and he’s shaking, and warm, and he’s not conscious, and I think it’s really bad but I don’t know what to do,” he rambled almost too quickly for Tash to understand.
“You’ve got Cole?” Darian's aura was bright with his fear, but she had no sense of imminent danger. Still, she was not going to leave her apartment without a weapon of some kind so she placed a hand on Darian's that had her by the arm and gently prised it loose. "I'm coming, just hang on one second."
She darted back into the flat, grabbing up her wrist sheathes and her first-aid kit before returning to the increasingly anxious Darian. "I'm sure Cole will be fine," she tried inanely to soothe him.
Together they took the stairs two at a time, until they reached the landing of the second floor. Before they could continue down the stairs a sleep-blurred but nonetheless annoyed voice stopped them.
The knocking had long stopped by the time Reah rolled off her bed and fumbled with the buttons on her loose shirt. She stormed out of her bedroom, into the lounge and straight the front door, jerking it open. Darting her still focusing gaze dazedly about the dimly lit hallways she picked up on some blurry figures hurriedly making their way down the stairwell.
“What the bloody hell is going on?”
Tash called over her shoulder as Darian continued on his single-minded quest to get her downstairs. "Reah, it's Cole. Remember the kid from the Hyperion?" She raised her voice as they went further down the stairs, brandishing her first aid kit just before they disappeared from Reah's sight, "Something's the matter..."
“Bloody hell! I bloody swear! Bloody… bloody….” Reah continued muttering irritably to herself as she shook herself out of her daze and followed after Tash, wrapping her shirt closer around her to cut out some of the chill. *I long for my trackies!*
“Ok, in here,” Darian urged as the two made their way into the bedroom. On the bed, Cole was still shaking. The glowing orange sigils still danced on and off his skin, and his hair was now soaked through with sweat. “I, I thought to bring him to a hospital, but then I figured what could they do? I mean, the glowing symbols kinda hint that this isn’t an ordinary flu bug.”
The fae made his way to the bedside and placed his hand on the kid’s head. “I used my powers to lower the temperature around him so he doesn’t burn up, but I don’t know how long that will keep him going.”
Tash dropped to her knees beside the feverish teenager, shaking her head. "Darian, I know shit-all about magic. But at least we can keep the fever down, maybe. Is there anything else that you know about? Physical injuries?" As she spoke, Tash jogged to the bathroom and soaked a towel in cold water, wringing it out until it was just damp. She draped it over Cole's forehead, letting the long tails drape over his shoulders.
She looked up at Darian, who shook his head at her question then simply stared at Cole with worry etched on his face. "Darian," she said, gaining his attention, "I'll do what I can for him now, but we may need to get another mage in. Any idea how he got like this?"
“What’s going on?”
“Eep!” Reah jumped at the small voice that just sprang out of nowhere and rounded on her cousin. “Quin!” she hissed irritably back at the yawning girl, then continued strolling into Darian’s apartment to peer at the kid that was the apparent cause of all the commotion. Quin followed close behind, peering curiously around Reah’s shoulder.
“I’ve got no clue how this happened. I just stumbled on him this morning, when I followed a huge flow of supernatural energy in the air that led straight to the kid,” Darian replied as he turned to nod at Reah and her cousin as they entered the room. “I just don’t understand why mystical forces would be screwing with a teenage kid?”
Tash gave Darian a strange look. "He's a mage. Do you think I'd have let a teenage kid with no fighting skills go anywhere near the Hyperion otherwise? I'm not that irresponsible. He was one of our magical backups."
She looked down at Cole, "But he disappeared afterwards. Chance and Alessa said they hadn't seen him, when I asked after him at the memorial."
She lifted the towel that covered the boy's face. It had already started to dry out from the heat he was generating. Quickly she rearranged it to keep the cool bits next to Cole's skin. "What have you got yourself into?" Tash murmured softly as she stroked the hair out of his eyes.
“Bloody hell… you meaning to say he did this to himself? Why would he?” Reah asked softly to no one in particular while Quin shuffled around her cousin’s body to get a bit closer, gazing sympathetically at the boy with worry creasing her forehead.
Tash shrugged. "Doesn't necessarily mean he did it to himself. But it's possible he tried something and it backfired."
She felt his face again - the damp towel seemed to offer a moment's peace, but it dried out quickly so Cole just grew hotter and hotter. In the absence of any other apparent remedy she decided at least she could treat the symptoms. "Reah, Quin - make yourselves useful and run the bath. Not ice-cold, we don't want to send him into shock, but barely lukewarm."
Reah nodded purposefully and grabbed Quin by the hand, gently tugging her away towards the bathroom, leaving Tash and Darian to watch over the boy until they were done.
“Is he going to be all right?” Quin whispered softly to Reah who answered silently with a simple shrug of her shoulders as they hurried off.
“Why would someone so young want to get involved in the occult? I mean, someone his age should be off at school, hanging out with friends, or like going out on their first dates, not messing around in the supernatural,” Darian said sadly, unable to miss the similarities between the boy’s stolen youth and his own. “Where are the kid’s parents in all this?”
Tash thought back to her own youth. Despite the problems her psychic abilities had caused, she'd had a fairly normal childhood - until she was fourteen and it was all torn from her. She set her jaw, "Maybe they're dead. I know mine were at his age."
Darian frowned as he stared back with concern and grief at Cole. “This shouldn’t happen to people his age. He shouldn’t have to deal with the real world, our world.”
Tash sighed. She knew the real world didn’t give a damn how old you were, or how unprepared. It did what it did and you either coped – or you didn’t.
The sound of running water stopped in the next room, and Darian and Tash gently stripped Cole down to his underwear. They hefted his slight body between them to the bathroom, where Reah and Quin helped to guide him into the cool water. It became apparent after just a few minutes that it was enough to keep him at a reasonable temperature so they watched him in shifts, running fresh cool water into the bath as it warmed up, until the orange symbols on his body finally faded away.
Tash stretched out a crick in her neck and headed to the kitchen for a fresh mug of coffee. A glance at the wall clock showed her it was now after nine. "I think he's finally over the worst," she commented as she sipped gratefully at the steaming mug Quin handed her. "But he's not awake yet."
Quin sighed heavily and frowned after the bathroom, "How long do you think it will be before he is?"
"No telling. Magic can be pretty taxing on the body for anyone, let alone someone so young. I'd say he should probably be asleep for at least two days, maybe more," Darian said as he joined them in the kitchen.
"We'd better get him out of that bath before he drowns," Tash commented wryly, "and get him into a bed. He'll need to be watched constantly until he wakes up, though."
"I'll take care of him until he comes to,” Darian offered, “then we'll try and make contact with his parents. I wonder if they know their son is into the dark arts."
Tash set her mug down and returned to the bathroom, where Reah was draining the water. "I don't know," Tash said to Darian, who'd followed her, "Does he even have parents?"
Reah rubbed her eyes tiredly with her one dry hand before turning to look up at Tash and Darian’s return, picking up on the conversation. “Did you check for any ID at all?” She directed her question towards the fae since he‘d discovered the boy, “Something that tells us more than just his first name, that is.”
"To be honest, I didn’t think of checking. When I found him the first thing I did was rush him back here," Darian replied as he got a thick warm towel ready.
He handed Tash the towel for her to wrap Cole, then ran ahead to the bedroom and quickly rummaged in the pockets of the boy’s discarded jeans. Darian returned to the bathroom a few moments later and shook his head sadly. “Nothing. Not so much as a movie stub. But I've got a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt out on my bed to change him into. Do you think there is anything more we can do?"
Tash flashed a smile at Reah for thinking of the ID. It had given her a thought. "Right now? Not really. But as for who he is... it was Chance and Alessa who brought him in on the Hyperion thing. Hopefully they know more about him. I have a phone number for Alessa from Daye."
Together they carried the now-dry teenager back to the bedroom and as Darian and Reah dressed Cole, Tash felt the boy's forehead. Quite normal now. "I'll give her a ring as soon as we're done here."
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
***November 28th - Adriana’s Apartment, 11:30 pm***
Slowly, Adriana unlocked her door. Because of the destruction at Bob’s Bar she was sent home early. That was fine by Drea. She had started her classes two days before and her current work time at Bob’s wasn’t helping. Now especially, since she was studying to become a teacher, Adriana was required to help teach a class at the local public school.
Drea opened her door to her dark apartment. All her furniture and luggage had arrived a week ago thanks to her Uncle Enzo and Aunt Lorraine. She turned on a lamp and closed her door. Adriana lay down on her couch and sighed. So much had happened that night. Chance’s words kept running through her head. *Get out of here. This place will do you no good at all...*
She sighed and looked at the phone. Drea need to call someone, anyone. It was about 2:30 am on the east coast, so Sergei was probably sleeping. She normally confided everything with him. Adriana picked up the cordless phone and just stared at it. *I can always call Dominika...*
When Adriana met her family (clan) for the first time, she had discovered that her parents had three other children after her: Dominika, Alesander, and Polina. Out of them all, she grew closest to Dominika. Currently, she was in St. Petersburg working for its famous Ballet. Surely she had come across vampires and demons before.
Adriana dug through a mess of papers that she stashed in a box. Dominika had sent her a letter, telling Drea her number. After about fifteen minutes of searching she finally found it. Adriana dialed for Dominika. She waited for her to pick up. *Hurry, Dom! This is costing me 3¢ a minute!* Finally, someone picked up.
“Privet?” a female voice said in Russian.
Adriana replied, “Dominika?”
Over the phone, she heard a sigh of relief. “Adriana! Good to hear from you again!” Dominika said in Romani.
Drea smiled. “And you. How is Russia?” she said politely in her people’s native tongue.
An “ugh” came from the other line as Dom retorted, “How do you think Russia is? Cold!” The sisters began to laugh, as though they were never separated. “How’s Los Angeles? I can guarantee that it’s much better than Russia,” Dominika commented.
Adriana then remembered why she called. “It’s nice. Smog gets really bad here sometimes, but I haven’t experienced any of it yet. A lot of demon activity,” she explained.
Even on the phone, Drea knew this caught her baby sister’s attention. “Demon activity? Lucky! Saint Petersburg has nichto!”
Adriana laughed and responded, “Hey, let’s keep this strictly Romani! Otherwise, I’ll use English on your ass!”
Dominika laughed. “Moving on, how bad is the demon activity?” she asked.
Adriana continued, “There’s this place I work at, Bob’s Bar, chock full of demons. And, unfortunately for me, I am now apart of that world. Tonight alone, I befriended a half-demon, witnessed a demon brawl, and a vampire flirted with me-”
Dom interrupted, “A vampire flirted with you!? Was he cute?”
Adriana sat in shock at her sister. “My life was in danger and all you can think about is if James was cute?”
She heard a giggle. “Oh, this vampire has a name! Will you tell me if he’s cute now? Or how about that demon friend? Is he eligible?” Dominika persisted.
Adriana really didn’t feel like talking about tonight, but hey, she was the one who'd called. “He has a girlfriend, Dom. That means he’s off the market. You wouldn’t want a repeat of senior year. By the way, are you going to Sergei’s wedding?” Drea asked, changing the subject.
Dominika immediately retorted, “Of course! I get to leave Russia, don’t I?”
Adriana laughed at her sister. She picked up a nearby picture of her, Gwen, Rosaline, Victor, Dominika, and Sergei taken over the summer in France, when Gwen was visiting her family. They were all so happy. They were together.
“True. I’m gonna try to arrive in Georgia on the 10th, if Bob lets me leave by then,” Adriana commented. She looked at the clock. It was getting late. “I need to go. I’ll talk with you soon?” Drea said to Dom.
“Sure. Bye babe,” she replied.
“Bye,” Adriana simply said and hung up. She rubbed her eyes. Drea sat up from the couch and moved toward her window, draped with white lace curtains. The sky was a midnight blue, which originally would be black if the city lights didn’t illuminate all that was around it. Truth be told, Adriana began to miss the stars which she saw so often when she was a young girl.
Drea leaned on her window and marveled at the skyline. It was not Boston’s, nor Manhattan’s, which she watched for hours on end when visiting Sergei. It was that of the City of Angels. *City of Angels... Ha, oh, the irony,* she thought jokingly and turned off her lights.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Payback: The Conract
The Ramada Hotel
Canoga Park
November 11
1:52pm
Nikolai stepped out of the taxi, looking a bit different from normal. Rule number one of doing a job was that you always tried to blend. You didn’t stand out from the people you were doing a job on. If that meant you wore a suit, that’s what you wore; if it meant looking like a construction worker, you did that too. There was something in the way that he carried himself, a seriousness to it.
He knew that he was going to see a powerful person, so looked like he had taken more time to prepare himself than normal. An expensive suit, long trench coat, scarf. Reah told him the story about how she learned about Svetlana being here after a bit of pressing.
Nobody could directly tell from looking at him that he carried the silenced pistol under his suit jacket, or the couple of concealed knives. Reah had even been nice enough to loan him one of her mercury blades. One final adjustment to his tie, and he began towards the hotel, the doors opening up. Immediately inside at the desk a man waited, the restaurant clearly visible just off to the right.
“Can I help you, sir?” the man asked when Nikolai reached the desk, resting his hands on the edge of it. A computer rested down in the desk.
“Yes, you can,” Nikolai replied calmly, affording a glance through the next set of double doors. A few tables with plastic chairs and umbrellas in the middle were out there. “I’m here to see Svetlana Vladimirevna. Can you tell me what room she’s in?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t tell you that,” he replied politely and expectedly. “I can ring her room, however. Might I ask who is calling for her?”
Nikolai flashed his arrogant smirk. “Tell her it’s Andropov.”
The man picked up the phone, dialling a set of three numbers quickly. Nikolai had made no attempt to look down and see what the room number was. “Pardon me, Ms. Aleksandrevna,” he said when the phone was obviously answered. “I have a gentleman down here looking for you by the name of Andropov.”
Several moments later, the man handed him the phone. Nikolai thanked him politely before holding it to his ear. “Strassvichye, Svetlana Vladimirevna,” he began, switching to Russian. “Kok vou pajouvyache?”
“Khorosho, spaseba,” came the reply. Her voice sounded much the same as he remembered it, though she had gotten older in these past five years. “It has been a while. I suppose you are here to speak to me.”
“Da.”
“Why shouldn’t I just send you away?”
“Because you’re going to give me access to Lavrenti Vladimirovich.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a laugh. “You have not changed a bit. I will consent to see you – meet me in the courtyard area.”
The line went dead as he handed the phone back to the man at the desk. Nikolai walked through another set of automatic doors. He saw the familiar figure of Svetlana moving gracefully, with her two bodyguards. She would have to remain cautious, he knew, and probably had someone else watching him. When she arrived, he was certain of it since she did not have one of her bodyguards frisk him.
“My dear Andropov Andreiyevich, it has been a while, has it not?” she said, smiling at him while motioning to a seat.
“Far too long, perhaps.” Nikolai took the seat across from Svetlana, leaving his hands on the table in plain sight. Her two bodyguards were seated on either side of him, so that were he to try to pull a weapon they could react quickly.
“One never does truly leave our business,” confessed Svetlana. “How did you find me, or do I want to know?”
Nikolai shrugged his shoulders. That was a conversation he did not want to have.
“Very well, Andropov. What do you know about Lavrenti Vladimirevich?”
Nikolai relaxed a bit, trying to control his emotions. That nagging feeling in the back of his mind was back, but L’Than was not around this time. No. He would not permit himself to acknowledge her presence. “He’s here and tried to kill me. Twice.”
Svetlana looked slightly less than pleased to hear this news. The problem was that Dmitri still owed Nikolai, had in fact helped him set up Nikolai’s residence here when it was time to ‘retire.’ And unbeknownst to Nikolai, the underworld of Los Angeles was changing. Kain had had the city sealed up fairly well, but now cracks were beginning to appear.
Cracks that Voronov family was going to exploit.
“There’s more,” Nikolai said before she could say anything. With luck he could find out what happened to Ben at least, and sign Sabarov’s death warrant. “He killed one, perhaps two civilians. One of them a child.”
Svetlana said nothing, just quietly seething at the news. She’d heard rumours that Lavrenti had engaged in a quite brutal killing. They said that Sabarov had killed a young boy, but nobody had approached her with any solid proof that Lavrenti was behind it. “Names?”
“Zoë and Benjamin Taylor,” Nikolai told her, wondering what was to come.
Looking at Nikolai as he said the names, she could tell that he knew them and was close to the woman. “I’m sorry, Andropov Andreievich,” she said. “The count is two.”
Nikolai fought strongly against the urge to break down in cry, hearing with such certainty that Ben as well was dead. In many ways, the uncertainty was worse but at least that held out hope, however small. “Where is he?”
Svetlana pulled out a piece of paper, writing an address and time down on them. If Lavrenti was unstable enough to start killing civilians, he was not to be trusted. The only excuse for doing that was on accident. “You will find him here.”
“Thank you.” Nikolai accepted the paper and moved to go.
“Oh, my dear Andropov Andreievich,” she said, getting his attention. “I hope you will remember this service if one day I need a favour.”
He nodded once before leaving.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Payback: The End
November 13
11:25pm
Clouds filled the night sky, any light available from the moon or stars obstructed.
The park was open, with a number of sidewalks. Tall buildings surrounded it, an open space in the large city, with several trees for scenery. It was the perfect place for a meeting, with the one problem being the balconies to buildings that could serve as sniping spots. But those were taken care of with a minimal amount of manpower needed, someone on guard to watch the fire escapes.
Paul Nesmith stood in the middle of the park, watching as the round and jovial figure of Lavrenti Sabarov made his way to him. Anyone who saw the Russian would be put at ease, would not think that he was a brutal man. Not right away, at least.
“You’re late, Lavrenti.”
Sabarov laughed at that. “My driver said the same thing, but my watch says five minutes early. Guess I really do need to get that thing reset after all. This night really is quite gloomy, isn’t it?”
Paul sighed. Sabarov always engaged in at least some idle chit chat, normally of a completely mundane topic. He had to remind himself of the rumours that this man survived the fall of the Soviet Union and ten years in the mob. “Perfect weather for discussing the entry of your family into the area.”
“I could not agree more, though I must say… I do miss the snow of home. It was arms we had to discuss, wasn’t it?”
Off towards the side of one of the buildings, a lone figured hurried to stop behind a waste bin. Slowly he set down the briefcase before affording a cautious glance towards the building and the guard there. A lone human with no visible weapons, glancing towards the street. Nikolai knew that this was the one he needed, with a set of steps leading up to a balcony.
“Arms, manpower, funding,” Paul replied, “And information.”
Lavrenti smiled. “Of course, how could I forget? Information is my business.”
Nikolai needed a distraction, pulling a small rock from his pocket. He tossed it underhanded out towards the street, tossing it more in his direction than anything else. A risk but one that could pay off. He dropped back as the guard glanced in his direction, waiting several moments before cautiously looking back. As he had figured, the guard saw nothing so assumed someone would be trying to distract him.
“I’m pleased to hear that,” was Paul’s reply. “I think there’s room for us to supply you.”
Sabarov shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that’s become an unacceptable option. We know all about the troubles your organisation has gone through. All we want is a piece of the action.”
“How big?”
“Just something to wet our beaks, as the Sicilians say. Probably more on the finance end than anything else, though. We’ll also want to bring in the Cornellis for legal protection.”
Nikolai approached quietly, drawing the mercury blade he'd got from Reah. He pressed himself against the wall when the guard seemed to turn back some, only to wander farther from the wall to get a better view of the street. *Now or never,* he thought. Moments later, the guard felt a gloved hand clamp down on his mouth before having his throat slashed.
“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” L’Than said, watching Nikolai with a look of horror on her face as he dragged the body towards the dumpster. Reclaiming his briefcase, he started towards the steps.
“And what do I get in return for this?” Paul asked.
“Oh, I have some information you’ll like,” was Lavrenti’s reply. “Besides, you’re hurting for manpower after the Brotherhood, aren’t you? An alliance will augment your numbers. And our connections with other powers in Russia will make you a man to be feared.”
Up at the top of the balcony, Nikolai looked out over the top. It didn’t seem like anyone would see him. He set the briefcase down, opening it to see the various parts of his old sniper rifle. Nikolai began to put it together with a small smile on his face. *This is for Ben. And Zoë.*
“You’re talking about bringing me into the family.” No, Paul was not stupid. He knew exactly what they were planning.
“I see that Kain did not make an error in selecting his man for the job.”
The rifle assembled, Nikolai steaded himself. He felt that nagging prescence in his mind, telling him to stop. Focusing, he pulled the bolt back on his rifle, loading a single round. That should be all he needed. Perching on the ledge of the balcony, Nikolai scanned with his scope looking for the target.
“Yes, that is a possibility,” Sabarov admitted. “You could remain independent if you prefer.”
“Really? And what if I decide that I don’t like this deal?”
Sabarov laughed. “Well, I think you will like it. Now if you will just hear me out, Mr. Nesmith, you will have everything you ever wanted. Including Ms. Kossington.”
Nikolai adjusted the sights, the blur gradually focusing into a set of solid shapes.
Paul seethed. “She’s still alive?”
“Possibly. There’s a rumour or two, but I need to check or perhaps you want to. 13-” Sabarov stopped as he suddenly sneezed. “Damnit. I’m sorry. I’ve had a cold the past few days.”
Nikolai steadied his breathing, the rifle gradually no longer moving up and down. Focusing, he lined up Sabarov’s head, having gone emotionless. All that he was left with was all that he ever allowed himself, a sense of professionalism. This work had no room at all for ego. Reaching up with his thumb, Nikolai switched off the safety.
“What sort of rumours?” Paul asked. It meant that it was possible his contract was betrayed if she survived.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s important at the moment. But the add-”
Time seemed to freeze. The rifle hardly seemed to kick at all, the sound of the shot deafening. Paul jumped back and hit the ground as Sabarov’s head exploded. Nikolai worked quickly to disassemble his rifle as various guards moved to find out what happened, trying to check where the shot came from.
Within a few minutes Nikolai had his briefcase up again and was heading away at a steady jog. Reaching his car, he tossed the rifle to the side with one realisation: Sabarov was dead.
It was finally over, and their deaths were avenged.
But why did the victory feel so hollow?
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
****Monday November 6th 20:20***
** Toni’s Apartment**
Jeet heard a key in the door. He had spent the last hour or so watching Toni’s videos of the A-team and was starting to understand Toni’s fascination with it, but now his senses were on full alert. He watched cautiously as the door slowly opened.
“Give us a hand will you, Jeet?” came a voice from outside.
*TONI!* Jeet thought excitedly as he jumped up and grabbed the door. “Good trip?” Jeet asked eagerly.
“Not bad, I’m a bit tired,” replied the old man, looking a lot more than a bit tired.
“Let me grab those.” Jeet stepped forward and lifted two of the three boxes Toni was carrying and carried them to the living room, setting them down on the floor.
“Thanks,” Toni said as he put the last box down and collapsed into a chair. A smile crossed his lips as he noticed the television. “You’re watching the A-team?”
“Yes, I love it!” A huge grin appeared on Jeet’s face, “Also, I’ve got some news. I’ve got a place to live.”
“Really, how so?” Toni asked quizzically.
Jeet explained about Tash’s visit; in retrospect he realised he must have sounded very strange to the woman. *You have my mind, body and sword? What was I thinking? I’m in their world now - who speaks like that? And what was I thinking - how can I help them? I don’t even know how long I’m going to be here, I might just disappear.*
"Jeet? Are you ok, Jeet?” Toni clicked his fingers in front of Jeet who seemed to have drifted off. “That’s great news, but first I have a few things to tell you,” he said.
As Jeet’s eyes refocused on his he leant down and lifted up a brief case. “Your money. I had to wait for the gentleman who won the auction to get the money, that’s why I was late.” ‘Click’, Toni flicked both catches open. “You did better than expected.”
Jeet stared at the piles of crisp notes in front of him, and Toni smiled. “$132,000. Not bad, eh?”
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you,” Jeet replied warmly. He was glad Toni was back, it was nice meeting someone who knew about his history so could have some concept of how strange this all was to him. “I’m very grateful to you.”
“Don’t worry about it. Now for my next surprise.” Toni leant forward again and this time lifted a smaller, narrower case. “The reason I went to New York was to fetch these, my prototypes. I’ve been working on them for years and now they are done.” He passed the case over to Jeet.
“What are they?” Jeet opened the case, revealing two beautifully forged pieces of metal about thirty inches long, engraved with red dragons. “Escrima? I don’t understand. We had these back home, though none quite as beautiful as this.”
“Ah, but these are very different,” Toni grinned as he got to his feet. “Pass me one, would you?” He took one of the sticks from Jeet and twirled it around his hand a little. “Watch.”
Instantly, another piece of metal shot out of each end, again black with the red carving, forming a long staff. Jeet looked amazed.
“But that’s not all,” added Toni. In a second the staff had collapsed, and was now a three-section staff, each part joined with small band of black chain. “This is why it’s different,” he said as he beamed at Jeet. “There is a small mechanism inside which is triggered by these two buttons. One extends and retracts the staff, the other breaks it down into the three-section and also pulls it back together. They’re made from a special alloy; these will NEVER break.”
Jeet looked at Toni in awe. “They are amazing, Toni. You should be very proud.”
“I am, but I’m even prouder to be giving them to you.” Toni extended his arm and the Escrima out to Jeet.
“I can't accept this, Toni. You have been very kind to me but this is too much.” He gently pushed away Toni’s arm.
“It would be a great honour to me if JEET SU MY were to except my gift, in the hope it may be used to protect him. It is nothing to do with kindness.” Toni was looking at Jeet like a fan asking their movie hero for an autograph.
Jeet sat quietly for a few seconds, looking up at Toni. *You’re a good man Toni, a good man.*
“I will accept them on one condition.” Jeet went to the corner of the room and fetched his staff. “It is not as beautiful as your gift but has served me well in many battles.” He held out his arms with the staff across his open palms.
“Thank you, I will treasure it always. Right, well that’s enough of that hallmark moment, we’re expecting company any minute.” Toni picked up the remainder of the boxes and carried them into his bedroom.
“We are?” Jeet called out as he turned to look over at Toni’s room.
“Yes,” came a muffled reply as Toni came out of the bedroom with a jumper half over his head, “An old student of mine.”
No sooner had Toni finished speaking than there was a knock on the door. Toni opened it and was followed in by an Asian man no older than nineteen or twenty, carrying two small, black, padded cases.
“I can’t stop long Toni, so let's get started shall we?”
The man sat down and unzipped the first case; he took out a laptop small printer and a few cables. After connecting the cables into the phone, he unzipped the other case and took out various types of paper and a camera. “Right, what’s his name?” he said looking directly at Toni and not even acknowledging Jeet’s presence.
“Jeet Su My,” Toni replied.
The man hesitated and looked at Jeet, but he knew better to ask any questions and carried on typing on his computer. After an hour or so, and several photographs later, the man left. He handed Toni an envelope on his way out and stopped in the door way just long enough to shoot another look at Jeet.
“What was that all about?” asked Jeet as Toni returned to his seat.
“Well we had to give you a ‘life’; he has created some records for you. You now have a passport, driving license, bank account and a few other things.” Toni handed the envelope to Jeet.
“Wasn’t very friendly, was he?” Jeet asked with a tone in his voice implying that he thought he may have been to blame in some way.
“Don’t worry, he doesn’t talk to the people he is ‘working’ for. It’s safer for him to ask as little as possible,” Toni assured him. “Right, let’s get you to your new home, shall we?”
They gathered Jeet’s things together and went out to the van. As Toni opened the van’s back door he noticed a box in the back. “Oh, I forgot. I wasn’t sure if we could get you a bank account so I brought you this to keep your money in.” He pointed at the box which read ‘UniSafe’. “I'll show it you when we get there.”
Soon enough they arrived at the apartment building, and after much struggling with the safe they got all Jeet’s things in. They had a quick look round and Toni showed Jeet how to open the safe before saying goodnight and arranging to come around in the morning. It was quite late now and Jeet was very tired as he stood in his new front room. Looking around at the walls, thoughts of his old life ran through his mind and he sat cross-legged on the floor.
After a few minutes he got up and made his way towards the bedroom. He stopped and rested his hand on the light switch as he looked back into the living room. “This is my home now and I intend to keep it that way!”
‘Click’
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 1st
The Laughing Dog
8:30 am
The “Laughing Dog” was almost empty; a few businessmen having breakfast alone with their papers, an elderly couple taking tea. Alessa sipped her coffee as she surveilled the place while she waited for Inés to appear. She wasn’t even sure the demoness would come at all, but she had given it a try.
She had called her to her friend’s home, not very sure of even finding her there. It had been more than twenty days since she had moved out. However, the man who had answered the phone had promised to deliver the message.
Alessa sighed and checked her watch. More than half an hour had passed from the date time. *She’s not showing up,* she thought, saddened. Maybe she should have arranged for a later hour. She was about to pay for her coffee and leave when Inés entered the diner. She was arresting in a white sleeveless dress, despite December’s early chill, and the bussinessmen's heads turned her way as she advanced towards Alessa. She was smiling.
“So prima, what’s up?” she asked, sitting down and crossing her long tanned legs.
“A coffee?” offered Alessa, raising a hand to signal the waiter, and trying to avoid Inés’ eyes, shaded by sunglasses as they were. She felt uneasy with her after their argument, and didn’t know how to begin.
Inés looked at her with mild amusement, and nodded, smiling her thanks to the waiter who had hurried to take their order. Taking her glasses off, she gestured with them at the retiring waiter. “Nice place,” she said, but her eyes were on the handsome youth.
Alessa rolled her eyes. There was no talking with her when she got into her femme fatale ways. She picked up her coffee cup again, trying to refrain her temper from rising. Then she sighed; it was just like Inés to act as if nothing had happened. She could never stay angry with her for long.
Inés sensed her changing mood and turned to see her again. ”How have you been?” she cheerfully asked, searching her cousin’s face. She looked tired and worried, her bright green eyes seemed… haunted.
“I’ve been fine,” Alessa lied, “What about you? I was surprised to find you at Michael’s still.”
“Nah!” she waved her hand, dismissing her words. “I’m no longer there, but he knows where to find me.”
“Oh?” Alessa arched an eyebrow. “And where is that?”
“Not where you are thinking, no.” Her eyes shone mischievously, “I’m staying at the Waldorf.”
“Classy,” assessed Alessa, smiling too.
“You know me. Only the best.”
“Yeah, I do,” she answered, and nursed her cup in her hands, looking at it.
“So, what’s up?” asked the demoness again, worried. “Don’t tell me you’ve called me to apologize,” Inés said jokingly.
That did the trick. Alessa’s head snapped up, and her eyes narrowed in temper. “I don’t have anything to apologize for, if you would hav-” she stopped at Inés' grinning face. “Oh, no, here you have me again.”
“Sí,” said the demoness, “I can always make you lose it, can't I?” She shifted position, crossing her legs again, then she searched her cousin’s eyes with hers. “I’m sorry Al, about everything,” she said simply, and Alessa knew she meant it.
Giving her a shaky smile, Alessa extended her hand to take Inés’ over the table. It felt cool and yet warm in hers as it pressed back. She didn’t want to be estranged from her cousin; she was family, and she loved her. Too many years she had thought she was alone to let the past come between them again. She had had time to think about it, to cool her resentment. She had even talked to Chance about it, releasing her anger and self-pity. He too was alone and understood her distress, in the end it had been his influence that had helped her make that phone call. She was glad she did now.
When the waiter came back with Inés’ coffee they ordered a complete breakfast and spent the next hour chatting cheerfully about everything but the past. However, when they were finishing it Alessa stopped talking and Inés looked at her expectantly. *Here it comes,* she thought.
“What is it?” she finally asked.
Alessa was nervously playing with her cheesecake, and Inés’ words startled her.
“Inés… did you invite any stranger in while at home?”
Inés cocked her head, and narrowed her eyes. “What are you really asking? If I invited a vampire in?” she snorted. “You should know better.”
Alessa nodded, looking guilty. “Yes, sorry. It’s just that… ” She bit her lip, doubting, but finally told her the whole story about Morris, the ring and the vampiress. Even about Chance’s hidden demon. “So you see, I’m just trying to figure it out. How did he come in?”
Inés looked around absently, trying to understand it too. Finally she shook her head. “And you said your Fluke didn’t invite him either?”
Alessa didn’t bother to correct Chance’s name this time, she knew her cousin was just trying to lighten the mood. “No, he couldn’t have.”
“You didn’t ask him,” stated Inés, looking straight into her eyes.
“No, and I don’t intend to. He… I… I want to face this alone,” she said, her jaw setting stubbornly. “He’s my problem.”
Inés assessed her set face, and sighed. “Well, I don’t like to admit this but that boy of yours sounds cool enough. Maybe you should let him help you. If all you’ve told me is true, Morris may be more than what you can chew now.” At Alessa’s obstinate headshake she sighed. “Well, you know you can count on me, don’t you?”
Alessa smiled at her and nodded again. Inés could be a formidable ally. Verbatii were powerful demons and their shapeshifter’s abilities were handy in a fight.
Inés put on her sunglasses again after calling for the check. “And stop thinking over it. Morris – or that vampiress – couldn’t have placed the ring. You are human enough, your house is banned to their kind.”
Alessa head snapped to look at her. She hadn't mentioned her fears to her, but the demoness' insight was true enough. She blushed guiltily. “I know, however…”
“Nothing,” dismissed Inés, standing up. “You ARE human enough, as you keep telling me,” she added, winking at her, before turning and walking towards the door.
Alessa stared at her cousin’s back, smiling. Nonetheless, when she looked back at her empty plate doubt lurked in her eyes again. *However…* She shook her head, she needed to talk to somebody else. With that thought in her mind she went over her new friends. She didn't want to discuss it with Chance, because she'd have to tell him about the intrusion, but she needed to talk with somebody who knew about vampires, who hunted them. She needed to talk to Tash.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Reah’s Apartment
Friday the 1st December, 2006
17:40
There was a loud ‘thud’ as Reah tripped callously over her sport bag's shoulder strap and landed heavily on the carpeted bedroom floor of Quin’s room.
“Don’t you say a word!” Reah dared Quin to open her mouth, levelling her with a warning stare as she rolled over and untangled her foot.
Quin merely shrugged, her thoughts elsewhere. Frankly she didn’t have the energy to bother taking advantage of her cousin’s lack of co-ordination - as far as she was concerned, the cupboard could’ve toppled over onto Reah and Quin still wouldn’t have taken much notice. She was still dwelling on the poor boy they’d helped out earlier that morning.
“Quin! …! Quin?” Reah snapped her fingers once, directly under Quin’s nose, snapping her attention back. “He’ll be all right. Okay? Darian’s a very caring person. He did, after all, risk his own health by waking me up at 6am in the morning so he could find help to save the kid!”
Quin nodded distractedly, “I know. I just can’t help but feel sorry for him.”
“Well, stop it. He’s off the streets now and in good hands.” Reah talked over the top of unzipping the bag, checking it for forgotten items from its previous use. “No point bringing yourself down by worrying about it.”
“I swear! Do you even have a heart?” Quin blandly commented.
“Hm…”
“Hm, what?”
Reah squinted, poking closer into the bag's corner and raising its base, “Nothing… I just found ten Australian dollars…” Reah sniffed in amusement, then frowned in reflection, “I wonder how long that’s been there? … Oh! Deutchmark, too! Beaudy!”
Quin sighed, rolling her eyes, then decidedly changed the subject, “So where are you going? And why?”
“Away, and because I said so,” Reah lightly answered, smiling cheekily up at Quin’s flat stare.
Heaving a dutiful sigh, Reah turned back to her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and straightening up off the ground. “I’m going out of town for a few days. I got a call I was expecting from a friend of mine, Alice, earlier today. And now,” Reah slapped the bag, “I have to head off if I want to meet someone on time.”
“But why now? Specifically?” Quin asked suspiciously. Reah had to admit, the girl wasn’t stupid. “Is there some evil demon about to be summoned in the next couple of days and you have to go stop it?” Quin said with only the slightest hint of mock sarcasm in her voice.
Reah paused and frowned down at her cousin, “Are you serious?” At Quin’s raised eyebrow, Reah sniffed, then paused again, unsure of what her cousin knew exactly, “Are you being serious?”
“You tell me.”
Reah’s mouth hung slightly open as she tried to figure out her cousin. She knew. How did she know? “Um… okay… No, I’m not. But…” Reah implored herself to take a breath, “Quin, since when did you know about… you know?”
“Reah, I grew up in Melbourne, not Queensland: I’m not daft.” Quin’s expression hadn’t altered once, “You come home on more than one occasion, at four am, where I end up having to help clean up your blood...”
“But…”
“You’re otherwise the only person I know,” Quin continued, talking right over her cousin, “who takes their sword, Sunday afternoon whittled stakes, holy water - for when you get thirsty, I’m sure - and guns on a date with your equally armoured up boyfriend.”
Reah stood with eyes wide, then turned up her chin defiantly and strolled off, “Damen’s so not my boyfriend!”
Quin sniffed as she watched her cousin’s exit, then rolled onto her stomach and put her headphones on, pressing play on the disc-man before opening up her book: an old, hand made, leather bound script copy of Les Miserables she’d found in a quaint little book store she discovered.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday November 29th 2006, 21:15
Jeet’s Apartment
It had been three weeks since Jeet had moved into his apartment. It had been a fairly uneventful time, uneventful in not having any searing chest pains or visions anyway. Toni had been a constant presence, taking Jeet out to buy clothes and furniture, bringing him books and explaining anything Jeet was unsure of. He had even taught him to drive in just over a week; a feat which amazed even Toni. The two of them had become very close. Toni looked upon Jeet as a son and Jeet knew he never would have coped without Toni’s help and guidance.
Jeet had been so distracted with the events of his new life that he had all but forgotten about his strange arrival, the amulet and the other strange events surrounding him. He had been busy making his apartment look how he had wanted it to. It was quite minimalistic; he had bought a very low wooden based bed for his room and he used the wardrobe that was already there. In the spare room he had put a wooden training dummy Toni had given him, some gym equipment, weights he had bought and a weapons rack. The front room consisted of a new black leather three piece suite, a rather large TV and DVD setup, a small table and several pull-up bars that Jeet had installed at various heights. He found that he liked to exercise whilst watching the television. TV was still a very new concept to Jeet and he was fascinated by it. After reading countless books and buying a laptop computer Jeet was already computer literate, in fact, he knew more than most IT professionals, so he had just installed a PC in the front room. Jeet was still enjoying the novelty of learning about something new, buying it and then mastering it, but it was quite remarkable the speed in which he was learning things.
Jeet had just sat down when they was a knock at the door. *That’ll be Toni. No-one else has bothered to visit.* Jeet was a little annoyed that Reah or Quin hadn’t bothered to visit him since he’d moved in. He got up and made his way to the door; sure enough when he opened it there stood Toni.
“You can let yourself in you know,” said Jeet smiling at the old man.
“You know I never will,” replied Toni with an equally big smile. “Well go on, invite me in,” he laughed.
“Oh just get in here will you, I’m missing the A-team,” Jeet said cheekily as Toni entered the apartment and sat down.
“So what have you been up to today?” Toni enquired.
“Nothing much really, a bit of reading and a few hours workout this afternoon, you?” Jeet replied as he poured them both a drink from the kitchen.
“I know your ‘a little reading’. Come on, how many today?” Toni looked over at the kitchen to Jeet expectantly.
“Just the twelve today,” Jeet laughed as he saw Toni shaking his head.
“You still continue to amaze me, Jeet and I think you always will. Anyway I did some reading myself today and found something that might be of interest to you.” Toni took a book from inside his coat and passed it to Jeet as he sat down.
“What’s this?” Jeet looked at Toni with a puzzled expression, then began examining the book he had been handed.
“I was hoping you could tell me, it’s written in ancient text. I can’t understand it but it has a picture inside of your amulet.” Toni stared intently at Jeet who was now holding the amulet in his hand, through his tee shirt. “Well? What does it say?”
“Hold on a minute!” Jeet snapped. “Sorry, it’s just a bit unexpected and some of these symbols I don’t understand,” he added apologetically. “It talks about the amulet containing the spirits of five dragons, the wearer being bestowed with great power, something about stone tablets and there’s something else I can’t make out. I need to study this properly.”
Jeet was somewhat agitated. He had been able to learn everything about this new world but a small book from much closer to his own time was baffling him, “This book is older than I am.”
“Listen, I’ll leave you to it. Call me if you need anything, otherwise I’ll come back in the morning.” There was an air of disappointment in Toni’s voice.
“Thanks, Toni. Thanks a lot. I’m sure this book holds some answers.” Jeet tried to force a smile.
“No problem, I’ll see you later.” Toni’s voice was a lot warmer this time. He was a little angry at himself for how he had sounded, he knew this was a lot for Jeet to take in.
He made his way to the door and stopped to watch Jeet who was by now frantically turning the pages. Toni stood watching for a few seconds; he looked like a father watching his son cramming for an exam. *Good luck my friend, I hope you find the answers you need. Be careful.* Then he quietly opened the door, left, and gently shut it behind him.
Thursday November 30th 07:45
Jeet’s apartment
Toni was standing outside Jeet’s door, feeling nervous. He had known Jeet for less than a month but already looked upon him as more of a son than anything else. He hoped with all his might that Jeet had found good news within the book. He cautiously knocked on the door.
Jeet had been up all night; he had drifted off to sleep at about 06:00 am and was currently lying on the floor leaning back against his sofa, the book Toni had given him in one hand and a pen in the other. There were bits of paper all around him, some ok others screwed up into balls.
Toni’s knock woke Jeet unexpectedly like he had just been pulled up from beneath the water. He shot forward so he was sitting upright. Slowly he began to realise what was going on, stretched out his arms and went to the front door.
Toni just stood there as a very tired but blank faced Jeet opened the door and stood before him. Just as Toni was going to ask what was wrong Jeet smiled.
“I’ve told you enough times now, just let yourself in.” He yawned and smiled at Toni, “Come in, come in. I’ve got lots to tell you.”
Toni let out a sigh of relief as inconspicuously as possible and walked into the living room. “You must have been up all night.” He was staring at the paper trail Jeet had created in his front room.
“Pretty much, but it was worth it.” Jeet let out another yawn, “I’m tired now though.”
“Do you want me to go?” Toni asked sincerely but in a tone that indicated that he hoped the answer was no.
“Of course not, I’ll sleep later. This is more important. Do you want a drink?” Jeet made his way into the kitchen. Toni shook his head to Jeet’s question; he was too anxious to hear what Jeet had managed to find out.
Jeet returned from the kitchen with a glass of milk and sat down on the sofa. Toni was staring at him as he slowly sipped his drink. “What?” he said jokingly.
“I’ll give you what - tell me what you found out.” Toni couldn’t wait any longer.
“Ok, ok, well...”
Jeet began to explain what he had managed to find out from the book. He had discovered that the amulet was forged in the early 0400’s by a very powerful mage. It was alleged that the spirits of five dragons were locked inside, and that each were represented by a point on the star that was inscribed into the amulet. The book stated that those of a focused mind could harness the power of each spirit, but it didn’t say what the powers were or how to use them. The book also referred to a much greater power housed within the amulet, a great demon and a battle with the Shaolin, but all these areas were very sketchy, and the book talked of five stone tablets that held the key to these points.
Jeet showed Toni the amulet and translated the symbols above each point. “I still don’t know what the centre symbol represents; I assume there is more about it on one of those tablets.” Jeet tucked the amulet back inside his shirt and looked expectantly at Toni. “What do you think?”
“I think,” Toni paused, “I think it’s a start. It doesn’t answer many of the questions your being here poses, but it’s definitely a start. Come on, I’ll take you to get some coffee.” Toni held out is hand with a smile and helped pull Jeet to his feet.
Toni drove to a small coffee shop near by, and after buying a paper from a newsstand outside they went in.
“I’ll get the drinks, grab some napkins will you?” Toni gestured to the small napkin holders on the far aide of the counter.
“No problem!” Jeet moved forward and stretched out to grab a handful of napkins, but he found his hand was blocked by somebody. “Oh sorry, after you.”
“It's fine, it's fine, thank you.” The woman took her napkins and moved quickly away.
Jeet watched as the woman returned to her seat and sat with her back towards him. *Man I must look a right mess for her to want to get away that badly.* He looked at himself in the chrome napkin holder. *Yep, I do!*
Toni came over to him.
“You could have told me I looked this bad,” Jeet grumbled in annoyance.
“I could have, but where’s the fun in that?” Toni chuckled to himself as he watched Jeet trying to arrange his hair. “Come on, let's just sit down. It’s been a long night.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
25th November, 2006
10pm
Alcohol, the evil of it. Firstly it attracts you with its pale inviting colour, which dazzles the eye with its golden reflection; mostly depends on what you were drinking though. Be it golden, clear and even the fruity flavours that made life worth living. Yes, there’s always evil about, but this has to be the liquid kind, swirling in a glass in your hand, and you waiting to gulp it down and treasure its taste deep within your throat. Feel the power it sends through you and the dizziness that spreads, until you lose all your control and realize you never had it - the control. You never really controlled your life, and suddenly the idea of fate does make sense and you laugh, for no apparent reason, you just laugh.
But it wasn’t going to be that easy for Sathawick, even though he tried his best to drown himself, trying to feel the great warmth and ecstasy everyone always talked about. The first time he drank, he had felt it, the warmth, the comfort, and after that he got addicted. But it never gave him that same feeling again, as if he’d been immune to it. Still, nevertheless he liked the taste of it, and at times loved getting drunk, which was almost every night.
Bob didn’t mind, he was used to such people. The “drowning their sorrows” kind, the “I’ll break your bones for information” kind, and sometimes the “huh, there DEMONS here!!!” stupid kind too. For some reason Sathawick seemed different though. He came in here all the time, mostly just to order a drink or an entire bottle and sit in one corner of the bar doing nothing but drinking and looking at the people around him, sometimes just stuck in his own thoughts.
Sathawick, the Facer, did the same tonight as he did most of the nights. Went to Bob and asked him for a bottle of his favorite brand and took it, cradling it in his arm like a baby to his favorite table. There he’d sit for hours, perhaps even go to sleep on it, until Bob came by to wake him up and get him to move on. Sometimes Bob even took pity and left him there till the morning where he’d pick his own ass up and stumble out of the bar and walk all the way to his dingy apartment.
Helping the order of Valor out sometimes let him pretty much pay for his rent and his habits, but for extra money he decided to work in a museum in the middle of town as a caretaker. It wasn’t much but sometimes he’d feel he was at home looking at the sculptures of pyramids and the different statues of pharaohs. Sathawick would give anything to feel the warmth of Egypt again, but he knew he would feel nothing. The warmth, the happiness had left him just about one and a half centuries ago. Even though from his exterior he seemed to be just another cheerful bloke, he used that as a protective mask so no one could tell just how unhappy he was.
Facer poured himself another glass and drained it empty. It was his fifth glass that evening but he barely felt it. Instead his thoughts came to fall upon the twins, the Koolang twins, who may be the key to a great prophecy. *Which might just take their lives.* But he couldn’t help looking into their eyes again, probing his memory. At first one would say they looked so innocent, so similar, but he knew they were not. Even though they’d only just met, it felt like he’d known them like an open book. His mind fell upon Tarix, the second twin; her past was very dark indeed. But her future was unclear, muddled up, a reflection of the choice of paths that she could take from here on forth.
He didn’t know why, but he also felt a pity for her soul. He knew just about what she’d been though and that hurt him to see someone go through some much distress and guilt. Even though Thule didn’t show it, he also saw hurt in him too, but probably guilt for not having saved his friend. Even though Sathawick tried to stay away from as much human or demon contact as possible, he felt as if he really wanted to help them. However there wasn’t much he knew about that particular prophecy.
*But that doesn’t mean I can’t find out more about it,* he thought, and decided that that would probably be the best way. He looked over at Bob, who seemed to have avoided another beating by a rather large looking M’Fashnik. *No he probably wouldn’t know much. It seems I’ll have to dig up some sources.* And with that drank his last glass, and got up and realized that he might not be drunk but he was still swaying slightly. He steadied himself, picked up his bottle, even though there was little left in it, and left the bar.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Thursday November 30th 08:45 am
“Are you ready yet, or do I have to wait another hour?” Jessy’s voice came through Tarix’s apartment. The twins had planned on getting together and going for a walk, perhaps even to do a bit of window shopping.
“Sorry,” came the other twin's voice, “Coming, just hold on.”
Jessy sighed. Things appeared to be settling down normally for the twins, more sisterly and there seemed to be less enmity day by day. However Tarix knew that Jessy would never turn her back on her, and also suspected that Jessy still thought of her as a killer but kept her thoughts to herself.
Tarix emerged from her room, wearing causual jeans and a jacket over her favorite black shirt. “I couldn’t find my shoe,” she said waving her foot in the air, “but I found it.” She smiled and grabbed her scrunchie from the coffee table it was sitting on to tie up her hair. “Ok, let’s go.”
Tarix locked her door behind her and headed after Jessy who had already started to make her way down.
***
Both of them had been walking for quite a while, doing their favorite small chit chat.
“Thule taught me since I was a girl, always eager to do some training. You on the other hand liked to remain at home, help mom, play with your dolls,” Jessy was saying, talking about their childhood, which Tarix had pleaded her to go over.
“Yes, I remember that, but vaguely,” Tarix replied in a small voice.
“How much has Thule taught you since you’ve been here?” Jessy said, pointing the subject towards her.
“Um, quite a lot. Like, we had daily training, mostly combat and then also some knowledge training, telling me about most popular species of demons. He tried to hone my powers out more. I mean, I learnt how to morph and I learned how to control my telekinetic power, but that’s about it. Thule also told me I had telepathic power, but he never got around to teaching me that yet.” Tarix fell quiet. She felt as if Thule had almost deserted her. After she had found out the truth about herself, and told Thule, he had almost entirely broken off with her.
“If you want we could train together. I could help you develop your skills more,” Jessy replied.
Tarix looked up and smiled slightly. “Thanks, that would be helpful.” She finally felt like she had a sister.
Silence fell over them again, until Jessy broke it. "So how about we have a cup of coffee then?" Jessy said bringing Tarix out of her thoughts.
"Huh? Ok, if you want. Think I’ll go for a chocolate cupcake if I can get it, or even a hot chocolate for that will do," Tarix replied. Her mind was still on what Jessy had said about her training. *That would be a good idea, she could help me a lot with honing my skills.* But she still felt as if she couldn't trust herself, and tried to think amidst all the politeness whether Jessy trusted her either.
They walked silently to a nearby coffee shop and entered. They both went to the counter and decided to order and then take their beverages and food to a table. Jessy ordered a nice hot cappuccino while Tarix decided she'd go for a cup of hot chocolate and a chocolate muffin as she had promised herself. *Ah, chocolate, food fit for a king.*
They both sat down opposite each other and started to chat among themselves. It wasn’t until Jessy got a weird look in her eyes that Tarix stopped.
"What? Is there chocolate on my face?" she said, half smiling, half rubbing her face.
Jessy looked at Tarix. "No Jazz, although you do have that great brown blob beside your mouth. I just noticed someone, or something peculiar," she said, looking over Tarix's shoulder.
"Oh," Tarix said, and looked around as well. "I can't see anything," she replied, turning back to her twin.
"You have to look harder. Didn't Thule teach you how to feel auras?"
After Tarix nodded a no, Jessy sighed, "Never mind, something else I’ll have to teach you." She pointed again. "That guy there, I’m reading something really weird on him, even though I’ll have to get closer for a better reading, but it looks as if he's human, but not alive, he's not dead either." Jessy shook her head, "It's just really weird reading."
Tarix smiled, "Well, why not have a closer look then?" Before Jessy could refuse Tarix grabbed her hand. "Oh come on, I haven't talked to anyone other then you or Thule in ages. Let's see if we can figure this mystery out." And she took her towards the other table where two men were sitting.
Jeet and Toni were deep in discussion about the amulet when Jeet suddenly stopped.
“What is it?” Toni’s gaze fixed on Jeet’s. “What’s wrong, Jeet?”
“I don’t know. It feels like someone is watching me.” Jeet surveyed the room; he couldn’t see anything unusual. “It must just be me.” But he didn’t sound at all convincing.
“Do you want to go?” Toni could see that Jeet was uncomfortable. “I don’t mind.”
“No, don’t be silly.” Jeet forced a smile as he took a sip of his orange juice.
The twins walked purposely up to them, Tarix in the front and Jessy behind. *I really don't like this,* Jessy thought. Even though she'd been thought of as being rather rash, she still felt uncomfortable going to someone who she had no clue what they were. Nevertheless, she tried to be careful.
"Hey there," Tarix said to the man who looked the youngest out of the two, and it was then she realised to her horror that she had no clue what to say. "Um, err..." She looked around not knowing what to say, then her eyes rested on the sugar container. "We just came to borrow some sugar and happen to see you had some. Um, is it ok if we take it?"
*Great!* Jessy thought, *The old 'I happened to dropped by for sugar' routine, like I haven't seen that one before.*
“Sure, help your self,” Jeet smiled as he held up the sugar.
“Hold on!” interrupted Toni, “every table in this room has a full sugar container, what do you really want?”
"Well, um...” Tarix felt as if she was stuck in a big hole, and got even more startled as she heard a voice in her head. "Nice going Jazz, how about you let me handle this?" It was Jessy, probably using her power, Tarix thought and looked at her sister and saw her wink back.
"Actually fellas, we were all the way there alone and thought you were lonely too, and might need some company," Jessy said, more composed and confidently.
“Young lady, I have been around far too long to believe that. Will you please come to the point and tell us what you really want?” snapped Toni indignantly.
"Perhaps you have, old man," Jessy replied, her politeness melting away, "But I have a feeling this here guy," she said leaning in so no one else in the cafe can hear and pointing to Jeet, "has to be older than all of us combined." She sneered, and from the expression of the older looking man and the other guy, she knew her little guess was correct. Meanwhile Tarix just stood there, thinking what'd she'd gotten herself into.
Jeet slowly slid his hand inside his jacket and clasped it around one of the Escrimas Toni had given him. *How does she know about me? How much does she know?*
“I think you’ll find you're mistaken, madam.” Toni glared at the woman, “And I don’t care much for your tone either, now if you would be so kind as to leave us alone.”
“No Toni, it's fine. I want to hear what she has to say.” Jeet pulled out a chair and beckoned the first woman to sit. Toni did the same though rather more begrudgingly.
Jessy grinned at the old man, Toni he'd been called, and sat down and fixed her eyes on the other one. Tarix hesitated and sat down next to Toni and looked at him. He seemed to be a bit upset at the intrusion, and she could understand. It seemed like he was being protective.
"So seriously, how old are you?" Jessy said, taking the conversation further, and even though Tarix was still feeling uncomfortable she still felt curious. "And in case you want to know how I knew, well we'll just say I have a way of reading people's airs, shall we?" she added, grinning.
“I would appreciate it if you got straight to the point. I have had a very long night and I am in no mood to tolerate games. Tell me what you know about me and how. Oh, and I believe you owe my friend an apology.” Jeet glared at the woman sitting next to him, his eyes fixed on hers.
This time it was Tarix that spoke up. "I do beg your pardon, but I don't really think we are playing any games. Nor do we mean to be hostile. And about knowing you, then you should know that this is LA, demons are here around every corner, and from what we feel you might even be one."
Jessy had to agree with what Tarix said and added her own two cents, "All we did was to come and introduce ourselves, by the by, and wanted to find out if indeed you were evil." She got up ready to leave, knowing she'd had enough of this. "But I guess you aren't, I read people better up close. Oh, and we did run out of sugar and your table was the closest one, and about your friend here, then he owes us as much apology as we owe him." And with that she beckoned Tarix to get up too and started to leave.
Jeet went to speak but Toni got there first. “I do apologise ladies but you have to admit that two sisters coming over to two gentlemen like you did, at this hour and in a coffee shop is very strange, and your comments about Jeet’s age were bound to cause some upset, especially in the tone that you used.”
“I too am sorry. If you knew more about me then perhaps you would better understand my shortness. Can we start again?” Jeet gestured for the woman to return to her seat.
Tarix didn't know what to do and looked at Jessy to catch her eye but she wasn't looking her way, and even though Tarix knew she could read minds but there was no way for her the convey her thoughts to her twin. Jessy however appeared to show an air of reluctance and finally sat down.
Tarix nodded and went back to her place. "Look, sorry we came down that suddenly, I guess if we were in your place we would have done the same."
Jessy didn't say anything a remained quiet, probably wanting the young man to say something. When he stayed quiet, she decided to finally introduce themselves. "I'm Jessy and this here is Ja..." before Jessy could go any further Tarix interrupted.
"Tarix, I’m Tarix," she said and extended her hand out.
“I’m Jeet and this is Toni,” he gestured across the table. “I can safely say I am not a demon or evil, but exactly are you?”
Jessy laughed, "Us evil? Lil ol' us?" she said innocently. "No, but half demons nevertheless."
Tarix sighed. *Thank God Thule isn't with us.* "But what about you? If you are as old as Jessy here says, then how can you be human?"
Jeet could see Toni was unhappy about that, and although Jeet was rather taken back by the half demon thing he proceeded to explain nonetheless. He told them about his previous life and all that had happened since he had arrived in LA and how Reah and Tash had found him a place to live.
*Reah?* The name rang a bell in both the twins' heads, but they stayed quiet. The other name was unfamiliar though. Tarix started to explain about their own race and started off by telling him all about the Kumacs and the Macbres and was about to end with the prophecy when Jessy interrupted.
"Yes, that’s us, the Koolangs. Well, it was nice meeting you, but we really must be heading off. It's not always safe for two girls to be out on their own," she said innocently again.
Tarix nodded, agreeing, "Yes, it is getting late." This time the twins got up more politely, trying to leave.
Jeet could tell Tarix was about to say more than she was supposed to but decided not to push the issue. He got to his feet and Toni followed suit. “It was nice meeting you, hope to see you again sometime.”
Jessy led Tarix out of the café, and when she thought they were out of everyone’s hearing range, especially the new people they’d met, she talked to Tarix. “You know, you really shouldn’t trust people like that. You were about to tell him about the prophecy. Do you know what that could mean if the Macabres found out about it?”
Tarix glared at Jessy, “Ok fine, but was it me who brought up the fact that we’re Koolangs? That’s enough to get us into trouble with Thule even, let the Macabres be.”
“Fine, it was both of our fault, but maybe you shouldn’t have been so eager to meet someone who came out in my reading to be almost inhuman.”
Tarix looked down, “I’m sorry, I just thought meeting someone else would be a nice change.”
The rest of the way none of them spoke to each other. They came back to their apartment complex, and as always headed towards their own apartments.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Sunday the 3rd December, 2006
22:49
It had been over two full days since Reah had left both her apartment and Quin to finally advance on a mission she’d been waiting over a year to fulfil. However, though she was still within no more than an hour's reach from her original starting point, she’d been spending the previous two days tracking her target's every move, word and breath whilst taking every precaution not to be discovered. There had been the occasional close call when the odd guard ignorantly stroll her way or she’d miscalculated/misperceived her move's nature/consequences and found herself bumping into a hostile being.
Thankfully, though, she’d managed to cover her tracks without drawing any unnecessary or unwanted attention her way that would result in alerting them of her presence.
Under cover of darkness, Reah watched in silence as the target’s gaze swept up in her direction. She withdrew deeper into the shadows, waited till it turned back about its business, then continued listening into the conversation between the man and his associate till she heard what she wanted and flipped open the brand new mobile she’d specially purchased to discard after this one call, and dialled Alice.
Though she’d promised the demoness she’d include her in this particular hit, Reah didn’t want to risk watching her friend die against the other thing: at least definitely not again! All she needed was to get her out of the way for at least a few hours until the target was well on its way, with Reah in close pursuit.
With the call made, Reah watched intently until the target finally made the move she’d been anticipating ever since she’d first returned to her past: the one Reah was certain to be the main journey that would lead her to the second critical target she’d personally added to the mission.
The one that would finally put an end to an unfinished chapter of her life.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Flashback
2nd April, 2063
21:35
“How beautiful is the night sky?”
Reah sniffed and nearly choked at the comment. Smirking, she leaned back deeper into the embracing arms that wrapped firmly about her. “Which sky are you looking at?”
Dre‘an chuckled, “True, it is pretty shit-house.” His smile was often equally as cunning as Reah’s, but this time it was broad and genuine as he rested his chin contently atop her head. “I just thought I’d try some of that romancing crap. Apparently your kind really swoon for that stuff.”
“You mean females?” Reah asked with an amused grin.
Dre’an smirked, “Yeah, that’d be it.”
Chuckling, Reah twisted around and smiled warmly up at Dre’an. After he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, Reah sighed and straightened up, pulling out of his arms to wander over to the roof's edge. Resting against the ledge that came up just short of her chest, Reah folded up her arms, settling them on the cold, concrete support and cradled her chin, rocking her head on its side so she could peer distantly down the heavily built up, commercialised street.
“Hey,” she heard Dre’an call softly, sensing the distance between them closing as he approached her from behind. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he squeezed supportively, “What’s up?”
Reah shrugged dismissively, scrunching up her nose against the tingle she could feel at its bridge, “Hm, nothing really.”
Dre’an sniffed and gave her a friendly punch, “Don’t shit me, Reah. You’re nervous, aren’t you?”
She shrugged again, her brows drawing further into a deeply set frown as she concentrated on the mingling people below.
“Hey look, you’ll be all right,” Dre’an assured her, “You’ve been in surgery before! It‘s not that bad. You probably wont even feel anything.” He smiled confidently at her lithe form from his downward view of her head and shoulders. “Also, it‘s just like the wired reflexes: no getting used to working them like you had to with the claws!” Spooning up behind Reah, he traced her arms, straightening them out, then clasped her hands with his.
Curling his fingers between hers, the three slits on the back of each of his hands were clearly displayed; almost identical partners to the ones on Reah’s. “Exactly the same…” he whispered into her hair, “you’ll just feel stronger.
“We even took the extra time so we could have enough to get you the Bioware instead! Much better, and also doesn’t really take away from you like the others,” he smiled and kissed her hair, “It won’t make you any less human. I promise.”
“Since I had my other implants, though… I felt… feel…” Reah strained her voice and tried to rein control over her words. She was struggling and she knew it. She felt weak because of it. She never stopped feeling out of place, even though she’d been living in the future for well over two years now!
“Shh, I know. It’s…” Dre’an tried to find the right words. Expressing himself wasn’t one of his strongest points, unless it involved disagreement. “Weird!” he frowned. That sounded so wrong.
Shaking his head, he tried a different way, “Reah… I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like - the time you’ve come from - or what you’ve had to go through… but… You pull through. You…”
“Hey, Dre’an!”
Dre’an sighed and craned down to kiss Reah just below her neck, whispering apologetically before turning back to the voice, “Yeah, what Krogen?”
About twenty metres away, back at the roof's entrance, a tall burly man dressed in a brown leather trench coat, light blue shirt and jeans waved back apologetically to his friend and nodded to Reah’s turned back, greeting her somewhat softer than he’d called to Dre’an, “Hey Reah.”
“Hey,” Reah weakly replied, waving back at him without turning around.
“Dre’an,” Krogen repeated, “The team's been offered a job.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Flashback
6th April, 2063
23:46
The poor punching bag. Reah pitied it as she bashed mercilessly at the hard packed leather, cracking it with flurries of kicks and punches, conjuring multiple variations, leaving indents and causing it to swing wildly on its chain support as she let loose with her new found - or synthetically enhanced - strength.
Reah’s exultant smirk was wicked as she eyed the swinging bag with an air of supremacy. Pausing a moment before leaping high into the air, she twisted around, her right leg hooking ahead of her body in one flawless, swift motion…
‘chink’
‘crack’
Contacting, the chain snapped and her body twisted over again in time to thrust a powerful kick with her left leg…
‘boof’
…slamming into the bag, she sent it soaring for the wall before the heavy thing crashed with a weighty ‘thud’ that then scraped to an eventual halt across the floor.
‘knock-knock-knock!’
Reah was still in the middle of grinning triumphantly and giving silent, proud congrats to herself when the urgent knocking snapped her attention to the door. She’d barely even taken a full step when the door burst open - her claws shooting out on reflex - before admitting the panicked, deadly and serious forms of Krogen, Quent, Liz and Tracer who suddenly spilled into the room without invitation, frantically darting their eyes in all directions before landing on Reah.
Krogen’s hands sharply gripped Reah by the shoulder’s as he opened his mouth, only to be cut off by Reah’s unease.
“Where’s Dre’an?”
Krogen blinked while things turned over in his head, before continuing over her, “Shit! So he hasn’t been here? You haven’t heard from him?”
“Um, no…” Reah frowned acutely, pinning Krogen with his own piercing stare, “Why should he be? You guys all went on that run without me, cos I had surgery! Why should I have heard from him?” Reah’s voice grew progressively louder in its demanding tone, “Where’s Dre’an? What happened?”
Krogen’s eyes searched Reah’s before turning upward with helplessness. He was a good friend of Dre’an’s; as well as being his fixer, the two had experience so much between them and had known each other since they were only however old.
“We were set up!” He let out a sigh and pushed away from Reah, subconsciously moving to the side as he passed a particular space to avoid the punching bag that no longer hung there, “Ambushed! That fucking bastard Johnson… FUCK!” Lashing out, his head spun towards the serious lack of solid object that his fist was supposed to contact. Shooting an odd glance at Reah, he then shook his head dismissively as other matters persisted to worry his mind, instead.
Reah watched him drily, her throat threatening to seize up on her, “You’re telling me he’s dead.”
“Yes! Well… no!” Krogen shook his head, “We don’t know! First he was there, then he wasn’t!”
“We ‘ad to get our asses outta there. It was eider that, or ‘ave ‘em swissed by turrets,” Quent explained.
Liz, a phenomenally short elf that looked mostly human when her hair was down and was also the group's decker, stepped up to Reah, adding her own discoveries to the mix with her enchanting and distant voice that partially calmed the troubled air, “I did some hacking and traced our dear friend, the Johnson. It wasn’t easy, but from what we already knew and what we discovered on the mission… He works for them.”
Reah frowned, “Works for them?”
“Yes.”
“Are you meaning to tell me that he was trying to sabotage his own Corp, or…”
“It was a set up, yes,” Liz replied calmly, “One that I’m not sure we were meant to survive. But if we were, Dre’an’s disappearance might be some form of…”
“I DON’T CARE WHAT HIS DISAPPEARANCE IS A FORM OF!” Reah snapped, yelling at the elf, “We’re going to get him back!”
Krogen had dispersed to the corner, his forearm propped up against the window as he peered down at the street, deep in thought. Tracer had just stood through the entire exchange without much significance. He’d never been entirely fond of the half elf, but Reah couldn’t give two shits what Tracer thought, so long as he stayed out of her way. Quent busied himself checking his arsenal, leaning against the back of the couch whilst darting the occasional glance at between the two women and Krogen.
“That’s surely what they’re wanting though. A backup plan to trap us,” Liz calmly argued, “Leverage!”
“What do you mean: backup?” Reah probed the decker, watchfully, “What happened? What did you find out? Who was the Johnson working for?”
“Nesmith Corporations,” Liz answered bluntly, swiftly followed by a fluid stream of curses seething from Reah’s mouth, “They’re planning something, Reah; and from the looks of what we could determine: they have been for a while.”
Quent sniffed, but it was Tracer that added, “We can assure you it wasn’t for tea and cake that they’d invited us over.”
Reah looked the group over and noted the severe lack of cut, bloodied and grazed bodies and only blood smeared clothing. They’d obviously been to a street doc who was also a mage: it must have been pretty bad if they needed to take those measures!
But that wasn’t what concerned her, “So what’s your point? As far as I can tell there’s evil afoot that needs a good smote! I’m seeing no other convincing argument here!”
“Except for the fact that we value our lives!” burst out Tracer, aggressively.
Reah lowered her clenched fist that had sprung up defensively, then retracted her blades. He wasn’t worth it.
Liz peered up, studying Reah in a thought-riddled silence, contemplating the odds, much like the rest of the room's occupants who still seemed to be paying attention or cared - which pretty much brought that down to Quent.
“Much as I hate to admit it…” Liz finally sighed, breaking the long silence, “you may be right.”
Reah gave her an obvious look while Quent proceeded to add his own two cents, “We won't be able ta do it alone. That’s for sure!”
“And we won't.”
Heads turned to Krogen still leaning against the window, who, as it turned out, had not been so oblivious to their conversation. Straightening, he turned to face the party and pointed purposefully to Reah, “You’ve got other runner contacts. Contact them! I know a few other people too… We’ll need as much help as we can get!
“Even if they’re not Shadowrunners,” he added, “if they’re willing to help and able: get them! Awakened, bloodthirsty, computer literate, human, orc, demon even; I don’t care.”
A few eyebrows were raised at that last, but Reah merely nodded, turning immediately about her business without a moment's hesitation. They’d need a shit load of fire power too!
“You guys can count me out. I value my life, thank you very mu…”
“Oh piss-the-fuck-off, ya mongrel!” Reah spun back with a hiss, her lethal glare stabbing rusted, blunt daggers repeatedly into Tracer’s chest, “No one wants to see your bloody face around here anyway. You’re no help to us!”
“Hey! I saved your life once, bitch!”
“TRACER!” Krogen bellowed, his patience at its end, “Just… leave.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Friday, 1st December 2006 - 9:30am
Tash stood before Darian's phone, having finally found Alessa's number in her wallet. Reah and Quin had left, and Darian remained in his room making sure Cole stayed stable. Tash dialled, then waited as the phone rang. And rang. "C'mon," she muttered, "please be home, Alessa."
Chance cursed as the phone rang. The sword slipped from his grasp, and the edge sliced his thumb slightly. Blood welled, then began trickling out. He sucked at it as he grabbed the phone. He had been holding it again, staring at it, maybe even caressing it, he wasn't sure. There had been no visions although the dreams had continued, but not past the point they had seemed to reach. Chance watched the blade as he took the phone off the receiver. Staring at it, he could swear the blood seemed to soak into the blade, and that the images writhed in ecstasy...
Tearing his mind away from it, Chance held the receiver at his ear. "Hello?"
Tash blinked for a moment. The masculine voice was clearly not Alessa. "Chance?" she ventured, "It's Tash. I was looking for Alessa... but I daresay you could help me, too."
"Yeah, it's me," Chance replied. He thought back to the Hyperion and the memorial service, putting a face to the voice. "Morning, Tash. What's the problem?"
"You remember how I asked you after the memorial about that young boy, Cole, that you had with you at the Hyperion? And neither of you had seen him... he's here, with me and Darian."
Chance's attention focused fully on the conversation at hand. "Cole? He's there with you? Is he ok?" He started heading for his jacket. "I ran into him a few nights ago, he didn't look good..."
Tash coughed quietly. "Well, I'm sure he's been better, but at least he's stable now. We were hoping you or Alessa could tell us more about any family he might have. Or..." she glanced over her shoulder to the doorway behind which Cole lay. "Maybe you should see him for yourselves," she suggested.
Alessa opened the door to find Chance talking on the phone. He had an earnest expression and was fumbling with his jacket. She hurried to help him with a question in her eyes.
"Cole," he mouthed silently, still listening to the phone. She sat down then, and waited expectantly while he finished the conversation.
"No, no family that I know of. Is he ok? Is he all right?" Chance pressed. "Alessa's just walked in, we'll be right over."
"Oh, good," Tash breathed a sigh of relief. "We're at 1318 Poplar Avenue in Alhambra. Apartment 109. I'll wait out front for you."
Tash had barely been waiting for ten minutes when a red VW convertible pulled up and two familiar figures got out. "That was quick," Tash said, moving forward to greet the pair, "I had no idea you lived so close."
"Sorry for my bluntness, but where's Cole?" Chance asked, already pushing himself past Tash and into the building. "What's happened?"
Alessa smiled apologetically to Tash. Chance was worried to the point of rudeness, but the woman didn’t seem to mind, as she gestured her towards the stairs. She followed Tash into the building.
Tash led the pair to Darian's apartment, knocking lightly just to let the fae know she'd returned before letting herself back in. "Darian found him, hot and feverish, but it was magical. There were some bright orange sigils on his skin, and we had to keep him cool for a couple of hours before his temperature stabilised. He seems ok, but won't wake up now. Through here."
Tash took them to Darian's bedroom door, rapping on it softly before poking her head in. "Alessa and Chance are here, Darian."
The fae turned his attention from the kid to the new guests. It would be an understatement to say the situation was awkward given his history with Chance, but right now the bad blood between them wasn’t on his mind. "Don't worry, we think he's going to be ok," he said, reassuring them.
Alessa hurried to Cole's side. The boy was unconscious and his blond hair was dark with dampness. He muttered softly when she placed her hand on his forehead. He was feverish, but not dangerously so. "How long has he been like this?" she asked, not raising her eyes from Cole's face.
"A few hours. I found him this morning at around 6:00."
"This isn't just magic," Chance said. "Cole was doing drugs." He closed his eyes and looked away. "He must have mixed with magic... that's just a recipe for disaster. He's lucky his head didn't explode. Trust me, I've... uh... I've seen it happen before."
Tash exchanged a significant glance with Darian. *Drugs,* Tash thought, *That would explain a lot.* A thought brushed by her and she cast a second, worried glance at Chance, but his attention was all on Cole at the moment. She couldn’t tell what it was, exactly, but it were as though he was confused about his identity. *Interesting…*
At Chance's words Alessa's head snapped up to look at him. No wonder he was so worried; she didn’t want to think when he had seen it, though. She looked back at Cole, anxious. "He'll be suffering from withdrawal too, then. I don’t know how we can help him..." she felt frustrated and looked up to Chance again.
Tash gazed at Cole's still form. "I don't think there's an awful lot we can do for him at this stage except keep him comfortable. The magical effects seem to be mostly worn off, but if he's a drug addict too that would explain a bit."
She turned to Alessa, "I was hoping you might have some clue as to whether he's got any family, but Chance said on the phone that he doesn't. I know he came with you to Bibliophile – were you his guardians or something?"
Alessa looked at Tash's worried face. "No, we aren’t. We just met by chance and became friends." She looked at the teen again, "But he's never said anything about his parents, to me at least." She looked questioningly at Chance, but he shook his head, saying nothing. "I only know he lived with somebody, but if he's on the streets..."
She looked at Darian next. She knew this was the man who had helped set Dray'chen loose, she didn’t know whether to trust him but there seemed not to be other choice. "Can he stay here? We'd take him to our place but I don’t think it'd be sensible to move him now... not in this condition." She bit her lip and looked at Chance.
*Poor kid.* Darian couldn’t help but feel sorry for everything Cole must have gone through. His family was dead, he was addicted to drugs, and he had been living on the street. "Of course he can stay here. I'll watch over him until he comes to, then we can figure out what to do next."
Tash agreed, "Yeah, I don't think it'd be a good idea to move him either. He seems all right enough. I just," she shrugged, "I'm sorry, I'd hoped you'd know more about him. But at least we know about the drugs now." She ushered Chance and Alessa out of the bedroom, saying, "We should let the boy have some peace."
Once in the living room of Darian's apartment, Tash offered the pair a seat. "Coffee, anyone? We were boiling a pot all morning. Have you two been all right since... since the service?"
Chance winced and looked away. "Not exactly." He took a deep breath. "We've had some... difficulties, to say the least."
There was an air of tension about both of them that Tash picked up, but there didn't seem to be a common cause. *Communication breakdown, maybe?* She poured four coffees, bringing two out for Alessa and Chance, then fetching the other two. One she placed on the coffee table for herself.
"I'll just take this in to Darian," she said, holding the last mug.
"No, don't worry," Chance said, rising before Tash could leave. "I'll take it in. I want to check on Cole anyway."
He grabbed the cup before she could protest and collected his own. Flashing a smile at Alessa and nodding at Tash, he turned and walked out.
Tash blinked at Chance's retreating form, cut off from view as he entered the bedroom. She kept half a mental ear in that direction, just enough to get a warning of danger, in case tempers flared in there. There was history between those two, but she wasn't sure what. Maybe she hadn't been the only one Evexus had attacked.
Shrugging inwardly, she turned back to Alessa and settled herself on the couch, her coffee mug held between her gloved hands, warming them. "So, difficulties?" Tash prompted.
Alessa nervously gripped her coffee cup, not drinking. She had had enough coffee for a single morning, she thought. What were the odds of her sitting next to Tash so soon after deciding to talk to her about Morris? She felt a little uneasy around the vampire hunter, and remembered Tash seeing her true self in the Hyperion. Again she asked herself why should she care, but she did. She looked up to find the woman's dark eyes on her own. She smiled weakly. "Yeah..." she said.
Tash savoured a sip of her own coffee, letting it wash away the residual tiredness the morning's activities had brought on. She glanced at Alessa again, not sure how much to push. "It can be tough," she said, as though she were talking about the weather, "to be just starting out in a relationship with someone and then have an apocalypse land on your lap."
The statement wasn't pure guesswork. Alessa and Chance still had that feeling of 'newness' about them, that reminded her so much of how she and Victor had been... She closed her prickling eyes against the steam coming off her mug before opening them again and smiling at the woman beside her.
She felt her heart go towards the woman smiling too. She didn’t know much about Tash, only that she had recently lost her husband, so she would know about love and grief. She also remembered Kate saying that he'd been a demon; she'd let that slip when talking about her friend. She looked at the huntress with new eyes; if Tash had loved a demon she wouldn’t mind Alessa’s demon blood.
"Tash..." she started, but stopped, doubting. Then made up her mind and started again. "Remember Morris Giles, the Watcher who found the ritual we used in the Hyperion?"
Tash nodded, "Yes, it was his diary we used." Tash looked up at Alessa, suddenly comprehending. "You'd been close to him, hadn't you?"
"He was my Watcher... and lover," she said and raised her hand to stop Tash from talking. "Let me explain. The Council believed me a potential and sent him to train me, but soon it was obvious that I wasn’t." She smiled fondly at the memories, "He never got to tell me, but I knew nevertheless."
She dismissed her memories with a wave of her hand. "However... well, he was at the Hyperion. He was the vampire who helped raise the protective circle."
For a long moment silence filled the room as Tash digested this startling piece of news. "He spent most of his life studying Dathan, didn't he? So if he was vamped... And now he's dust and you're upset?" Even as the words fell from Tash's lips they didn't seem right. It didn't add up to the emotions of fear and worry she was sensing from Alessa.
Alessa shook her head, "If it were only that simple." She sighed, "Yes, he was one of Dathan's get, like you guessed, but no, he's not dust. That's the problem."
A deep frown marred Tash's features. "But that can't be right. Surely? We heard reports from all around the world of vampires being struck by 'fire from the skies'. That spell took out everyone Dathan's blood had ever mingled with, directly or indirectly. How did Morris escape?"
"Well, I've had some time to figure it out. Morris was versed in magic, you know? My guess is that he was benefited by the Slayer's ritual so his power would have increased. And he did help form the protective circle." She made a vague movement with her hands. "I remember thinking he would get burned, but he was standing with the witches... the circle must have protected him somehow," she ended weakly.
"Well, in a way I'm relieved," Tash said. "I wasn't relishing the prospect of a horde of Dathan's clan surviving to exact vengeance on us. But," Tash set her coffee mug down and sighed, "if he and you used to be close you won't be safe. I'm betting he's not best pleased with you being the means by which we destroyed his vampire buddies."
Alessa smiled weakly. "You bet. He's been lurking around my house. Chance and I have been searching for him, but he's never close enough, until..."
She bit her lip, nervously eyeing the closed door. She felt bad keeping things from Chance but he could be too protective of her. "I think he went into my house a couple of nights ago. He left something on my bed," she lowered her eyes, "something only he could have known about."
Tash leaned forward. "What? Did you invite him in? You should know better than that."
Alessa sighed again. No way she could prevent this, she thought as she looked at Tash’s concerned dark eyes. "I didn’t," she said, "but of late I'm suspecting my home may not be protected against vampires." She lowered her eyes again.
Tash's eyes narrowed, and she thought back to that fleeting glimpse she'd had of something at the Hyperion. At the time she'd put it down to a trick of the light. Everything had been moving so fast in there that everything was a blur. But for just a moment she'd thought she'd seen a large, brown, fuzzy creature standing in Alessa's place. She rechecked the woman's aura. No darkness, but that didn't preclude demonic origins - it just indicated a lack of evil.
Despite her suspicions, she thought it best not to pre-empt Alessa, so instead she leaned back with one eyebrow raised. "Oh?" she asked.
Alessa closed her eyes. Tash wasn’t making it easy for her. "Remember I told you I couldn’t possibly be a potential Slayer? Well, that's because I'm not completely human." There, she had said it. Somehow she felt like a burden being lifted from her shoulders. She raised her eyes again to look at the other woman, a slight challenge in her stance.
Tash met her gaze unflinchingly. "Good, so I wasn't seeing things at the Hyperion." She smiled and reached out to grasp Alessa'a hand in her own, "Don't worry. Victor was a demon - rather more demon than you are, I have a feeling. I sense no evil about you. But all the same," Tash smiled, "it's wise to be careful who you tell."
She grinned at Alessa'a evident relief at her mild reaction. "So, Morris left a calling card. First I have to ask, though - is there any part of you that doesn't believe he's now an evil monster who is no longer the man you once cared for?"
Alessa almost cried at the comprehension she saw on the others eyes. She clasped the offered hand strongly, and smiled. "No, I know he's a vampire now. I can deal with that. It's just that..." Alessa couldn’t go on. Tash wouldn’t understand her distress, or maybe she would but... she stopped her ramblings.
"All my life all I ever wanted was to be completely human. I convinced myself that I was human enough to fit in this society, however, since Morris’ intrusion... I've wondered. If the human habitation ban doesn’t work in my case, then..."
Tash squeezed the hand she held. "Maybe he got someone to leave it for him. Or maybe he got in for some other reason. Even I wasn't sure if you were a demon or not. If I hadn't seen that glimpse of you changing at the hotel, I wouldn't have looked twice at your aura. I still can't pick it from that, even though I know. It doesn’t look entirely human normal, but then none of us who've had contact with the supernatural really do."
"Yeah, I guess so. We are a pretty creepy bunch, aren’t we?" Alessa smiled weakly, just realizing that Tash had made a revelation of her own when talking about her aura. She laughed humourlessly, "Like the Superfriends."
Tash giggled. It was rare for her to laugh these days, but she had to admit it felt good. "Yeah, except none of us can fly." She sobered a little, "Actually, I'm hoping to make our ragtag bunch of friends a little more organised. So far we've been working on a wing and a prayer. I think it'd be a good idea if we had some form of structure to the White Hats." She smiled briefly at the name Victor had coined for their circle of friends. It seemed appropriate to continue using it now.
"White Hats," said Alessa, savouring the name in her mouth. She smiled her first truly happy smile since she had got to the building. "You mean like the Justice League?" she joked, but she knew what the woman was offering. She was offering her a place in the world. Maybe not the human’s world, she would never truly fit in that one, but a place among people like herself. *Creepy people.*
“Tell me more," she said and leaned to listen to Tash.
"Basically," Tash began, "up to now if one of us happens to find out about some looming supernatural disaster we ring all our," she paused with a wink at Alessa, having picked up that stray thought, "creepy friends and hope they're home, then we charge out - like we did last month - and try to stop it. As you can imagine, that method tends to have a few drawbacks."
Tash looked at the floor for a moment, steeling herself for the next bit. It was still hard to think about Victor or Sorrow, but both of them were responsible for the ideas floating around in her head now. "It really came about from something Sorrow said to me. Well, wrote to me... I only received it after he died. And it got me thinking. Victor started the Foundation last year, a means by which to fund evil-hunting. There's enough resources there to ensure we can train effectively, research the nasties that come our way, and construct a means to defeat them. Sooner or later the haphazard approach will get us all killed."
She looked earnestly at Alessa. "And I know both you and Chance are good fighters. It's people like you who can really make a difference in this city, but we need to make the White Hats a force to be reckoned with." Sorrow's words floated through her mind, the words that had triggered all of this. 'If we're to weather the battle a citadel needs to be constructed of willing flesh and blood. Find them, Tash. Find those who can stand against the darkness and teach them what they need to know.'
Alessa nodded. She wasn’t a telepath herself, but one needn’t be to see what was on Tash's mind. "Count me in," she simply said.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Nov 19th, 2006 6pm Sunday
Oz wandered down the street towards the The Lilies-of-the-Field United Baptist Church. He had walked this far last week and had turned back at the last minute. He could not say why. He had always enjoyed worshipping because it reminded him of his life before and the times with Margaret. She sang in the choir and he often would close his eyes to single out her voice among the others.
He entered the church where a bright contemporary banner proclaimed "Hallelujah!" in vibrant primary colors. Around him milled several people dressed in their Sunday finest and Oz chuckled at how people's faith was often like their "Sunday Best" the rest of the week: something they wore for church.
A bright face moved in from Oz's peripheral vision to fill his forward view. It wore a broad smile and a wide face. The casual manner was surrounded by the robes of a minister. "Greetings friend," the face said, "What's the good word on this fine Sunday morning?"
(Jack Nicholson returns as Rev. Reginald Pater)
"He is risen, Hallelujah!" Oz answered, almost automatically. He always answered to "good word" that way because he loved to see the way people reacted to it. Margaret had stopped asking him "what's news?" for that very reason.
The minister looked down his nose in a funny way. "He is? Risen? Indeed," he said, twisting the emphasis of the traditional reply.
Oz suddenly had a strange feeling as if he should run out and warn people about this man. *But warn them of what?*
"Sound the trumpets, boys, the whole show's about to start," the minister called out turning to face the front of the church. On cue, the organ played and the congregation stood to sing a hymn as the procession moved to the altar ahead.
Oz quietly took a seat in the back next to a very stiff looking man in an older-looking sports coat. *He looks like a cop,* Oz thought. The service went through the various parts of the order of worship. The Doxology, The Offering, The Word...
The Epistle lesson was one Oz knew well. Paul's Letter to the Hebrews Chapter 6: "It is impossible for those who ...have tasted the heavenly gift, ...who have tasted the goodness of the word of God ...to be brought back to repentance if they fall away."
The minister stood at the end of the reading. He recited the Gospel without referring to a bible. Matthew Chapter 24: "At that time the sign ...will appear in the sky, and all the nations of the earth will mourn. They will see [him] coming on the clouds of the sky, with power and great glory. And he will send his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens to the other."
Oz shivered. He dreaded that day, not because he didn't want it to happen - he desperately wished for that triumphant day over evil - but because he knew that the judgment day would come without warning and without prelude.
Bang. It would all be over. Ragnarok. Kalki. Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo. Gabriel's Horn. The universe would end, roll credits. It was an awesome thought. The world would be unmade, sifted into its bits, each part carefully cataloged and put away until the remaking.
Oz's thoughts stopped abruptly as he realized that Rev. Pater had quit talking. In fact, the discomfort of the congreation made it worse. He was looking at Oz. Looking at him hard. Reginald snorted once and finished his Gospel, "I tell you the truth, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and Earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away."
Rev. Pater walked down the isle and stood next to the pew where Oz sat. He looked down at him. "Will. Not. Pass. Away," he said softly.
He leaned over and with his face next to Oz's he said in a taunt, "Oh, Heaven and Earth will pass away, but my words..."
Reginald stood straight, and tugged out the wrinkles of his tunic, "My words" he said loudly, "will not pass away."
He strolled to the front of the church. Every eye that was not riveted to this charismatic man was looking at their shoes in embarrassment and shame. "And why should a word exist when there is no book to read it from? No ear to hear it with?"
"I am the word!" he shouted from the front and let the echo hang in the air.
"Jesus, I mean," he said softer, "is the word. And He is God. And God cannot die."
There was a brief silence and reverence that was followed by a collective intake of breaths. It was as as if the entire congregation were being held by the throats for just that few minutes.
Oz sat in stunned silence for the remainder of the service and tried to sneak out quietly before the recessional parade had concluded. Reginald somehow met him at the front door.
"Running from God, son? No I suppose you aren't. I remember you from the diner a while back. Glad to see you stopped by... that you got the message. It would have been a shame if you had missed this."
"Just looking around Reverend. I don't like to tie myself to one parish, since they are all houses of God." Oz was desperate to get away but he could not seem to maneuver around this man. No matter which way he turned Reginald moved to block him.
"So you will be back next Sunday, won't you?" Reginald said moving his face uncomfortably close to Oz's, "Its Advent, you know, the season we prepare for the coming of the King."
"You aren't getting the message Reverend, I may not ever come back."
Reginald looked at him and cocked his head to the side. He started to laugh and then grabbed his belly as he doubled over and rolled on the ground. Oz ran away from the church, but something told him he would be back no matter what.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Nov 19th, 2006 - Late Sunday night
Father Reginald had recognised the man from the pew quite easily for what he was. It was just that ever since then his mind had been disturbed. Something long forgotten, as he sat and listened to that harmony he heard reflected so well in the world. He scribbled a few lines for next week’s sermon, before putting it aside.
Again his mind wandered to the book shelf. Reaching for a worn copy of Plato’s Republic he opened it and continued to read. Reginald stopped and paused as he read of a group of men shackled, forced to face in only one direction to view a parade of shadows. When at last a man broke free of his fetters and saw the truth, he was ridiculed by his fellow men. Indeed, they would rather kill him than know the truth.
And then the logos sang:
Pater, carmenine commemorata,
“What is it?” he wondered aloud, the sermon now completely out of mind. He continued to reach for other works, this time the Symposium. Reginald read as Socrates related to the guests the speech of Diotima, coming quickly to the ascent passage, where we behold the form of absolute beauty and undergo a life-altering experience.
divine agnoscet se negotium.
Next he looked to Heraclitus, called ‘the Riddler’ by his contemporaries for his obscure style and making contradictory remarks. Fragments of Heraclitus jumped out at him, forming a distinct pattern, a picture of the world. A Divine Structure to the world, one which most people are not in contact with.
arbiter narravit summa
The pattern became clearer. Reginald held the text in his hand, rereading the same passage time and time again. “It all makes perfect sense,” he said to himself. Rising from his seat, the priest focused and listened intently, the sounds of the logos running over him, through him.
repugnant patrem negotium
His eyes flew open. Of course! How could he forget? The ascent of the soul to heaven, described in the ascent passage. Reginald focused as he remembered that unity, being one with the higher realm of the forms. That same realm which was the source of power to magicians.
Blinking his eyes, he altered his perception of reality. The energies of the world, the divine structure was laid bare before him. Again he changed his perceptions, and the logos was replaced again with the forms. Another change and he perceived the underlying harmonies of the logos, before a final change sent him back to the world humans saw.
Relaxing, he broke into non-corporeal form. A blue vapour substance seemed to move across the room and reform. “Hodie est dies novus,” he said as he was caught in the logos.
And then he remembered the angeloi he had seen. One was a messenger, but the other from the diner… the destroyer of the logos! Making a motion with his hand, old magic came to mind for Reginald. In a circle of flame the image of Brinkley appeared, as he focused his powers of farseeing.
Pater repugnat iridem
Reginald made certain he would remember that woman, the pattern of her energies. She would come, he knew. “And she will be the first if she does,” he mused. It was all so clear.
“So much to do, so little time to do it in,” he mused to himself, looking for new paper to scribble on. He would do for humanity the greatest service he could. His mission, granted to him by the World-Soul, the Divine Consciousness of the Universe itself. Even though it would destroy physical existence, they would be grateful when they understood.
Reginald was going to bring mankind to unity with the logos.
Translations
Pater, carmenine audita, – The father, having heard the song
divine agnoscet se negotium. – By divine inspiration knows again his own task.
arbiter narravit summa – The greatest judge has spoken
repugnant patrem negotium – They fight against the father and his plan.
“Hodie est dies novus,” – Today is a new day
Pater repugnat iridem – The father fights against the messenger of the gods*
* I have played loose with my translation. Iris, Iridis, is both the messenger of the gods and the goddess of the rainbow. It is ironically used here to refer to Brinkley because to the ancients, the Rainbow was a bad omen – a disaster about to befall someone. Though arguably the Idea can be a disaster to become infected with.
This is all written by Adam and I have posted it here becasue it fits so well. I hope he forgives me for not asking him first. - Dave
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
1st December,
10pm.
He looked around at people’s faces, and even though this wasn’t Bob’s Bar, it was hard to tell the difference. However this café was larger and had more places that were concealed by curtains probably to discuss their affairs in private. Sathawick looked around and spotted the M’Fashnik that he was looking for, seated at the bar drinking something that the Facer himself would never touch, and that’s saying something. He strolled over to the demon and once he’d caught his eye, the M’Fashnik nodded, gulped down the rest of his drink and got up to go to the nearest empty concealed place. Sathawick followed and drew the curtains behind him and sat down in front of the demon.
“Ah, the Facer, I’ve heard a bit about you from a wide number of sources.” The demon leaned in, “Tell me what do you read in my face?”
“Except from the fact that you are shit ugly, your mommy ditched you because you were ugly, and no gal would ever want to look at you cause you’re ugly?” Sathawick retorted, and the M’Fashnik’s grin turned grim. “Now can you please stop wasting my time and give me what I came here to get?”
“You have a sharp mouth, you better watch it…”
“And yaddi yaddi ya, he keeps on yakking. You gonna give it to me or not, fat boy?”
The M’Fashnik clearly did not like him, and he took no measure in hiding his dislike on his face. Nevertheless whether he liked him or not, he was a businessman, sort of. He put a hand in his pocket and drew out an envelope. Sathawick tried to reach it but the demon drew it back.
“Uh uh uh. Let me see your part of the bargain.”
Facer nodded and withdrew a small packet; a stone wrapped in a cloth. He handed it over to the demon and in the process grabbed the envelope from its other hand. The demon took the packet and unfolded the cloth, and took out the black-maroon coloured stone and turned it over in his hand and then held it in his palm and squeezed it tightly, with its eyes closed. “Ahhh, a true Scath Brim, you don’t know how much that gets in the black market.” He seemed to be enjoying the stone until Facer leaned over and slapped him.
“Hey! You of all people should know that’s addictive to demons. You stop absorbing it, or soon you’ll have nothing to sell.” He sat back down, and the demon growled back but put the stone down, which had shrunk a bit. “Not that I care, but I did like the notion of slapping you.” Sathawick opened his envelope and drew out a map of a familiar land, and another sheet. He read it over, and folded it back.
“You sure this is the correct location and the correct spells? Or else I’ll get majorly comical on your ass, especially reminding you of what a shit face you got.”
“Hey, I don’t know anything about whether it’s the correct map or not, but I sure did beat the guy who does to pulp. So I’m thinking that it may be accurate.”
Sathwick laughed, “You M’Fashniks, never scared to get your hands dirty.” Facer did feel a bit guilty about the poor soul who had come under the M’Fashnik, but the information was of vital importance. Facer pocketed the envelope and got up. “I hope to see you never again. Hope you have a nice time black marketing.” And left.
Facer hailed a taxi, which was quite hard to get from in front of the almost hidden café, and he had to walk quite a distance to find one. He got in and announced his destination; the airport. As the taxi drove, Sathawick pulled out his ticket and looked at it.
*This had better be worth it.* But going back to his home country would bring back many memories.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
3rd December,
7:13pm
Clad in a blackish maroon suit, wearing his favorite tie, he strolled over to the counter and sat down. He looked around and observed everyone around him. There weren’t that many people there, as always, but he looked at the family that was eating nearby, a couple that were sharing a milkshake, a man sitting alone doing his work over a burger. Everyone observed him back, although it didn’t disturb him but he was quite different to the people that came to a place like this. Mostly not many came to such an unpopular burger place wearing a sparkling suit. He was of medium height, with short brown hair and a few whiffs of white hair, showing off his personality even more in his clothing. He looked to be in his early forties, with a few wrinkles on his face and neck. A girl came over to him, a bored expression on her face and a worn out notepad, which showed the signs of how brutally it had been handled.
“Good afternoon and welcome to the Laughing Dog, we have your favorite dogs in buns with sauce and even your favorite milkshakes. What will you have?” All that was lacking from her monotonous tone was a yawn at the end but he didn’t mind.
He ordered a Single Doggy Meat Burger, with a side order of fries and a coke, which arrived a bit too late. He waited patiently and when it came he ate it slowly, leaving his brain to wander off and think about other things.
***
As per usual, Tarix and Jessy were coming down from the apartment complex on their way to a takeaway where they could fetch some food. Jessy had already started her training with Tarix; it was then Tarix realized how much she missed Thule. Even though Jessy wasn’t that bad in defence training and even had bit knowledge of the supernatural race and told Tarix quite a lot about vampires. But still her knowledge was nothing compared to Thule’s and she wasn’t as patient either.
Every day they would train in the morning and in the evening go out for some junk food. After a bit of time it started to get expensive eating out every day so they tried to cook, but it became clear that if they were to live then they better have some good food to eat rather then kill themselves with each other’s cooking.
Jessy heard her phone ring and told Tarix to go on down, and that she’d catch up later. Tarix nodded and made her way down the stairs and looked around. It was really dark and the front gate of the apartment complex was closed but not locked, as it seemed. She sat down on the stairs and looked up and started gazing at the stars, until she was distracted by the sound of the front gate opening. She looked back down and saw a man coming in. It was quite dark, but she could make out his blackish maroon suit and some of his features, which seemed a bit familiar, but then she tried to match everyone that she came across to the faces that flashed in her memories, so she wasn’t too surprised. She looked into those eyes of his and almost lost herself in them, those great blue pools that sparkled like the smile on his face and at the same time haunting you.
“Excuse me young lady,” he said as he came closer to her, “But what might you being on the stairs at a time like this?”
A very unusual question coming from a complete stranger. “I’m sorry, but who are you to ask this?”
“Why Jasmine, don’t you remember me?” he said. He came closer into the light and this time his face became more clear to her, but she still couldn’t put a finger on who it was. *Damn memories, they come but not entirely.* But her heart did make a leap, from happiness to suspious; who was this guy?
“I’m sorry, but I still don’t remember,” she simply said.
“That’s too bad, you left high school and forgot about your favorite teacher.” He sat down beside her. “I’m Lynkes, Henry Lynkes, I used to teach you in high school. Can’t believe I’d find you here.” He looked around the apartment complex. “I just came here to visit a friend of mine, and it's such a coincidence and certainly a pleasure that from all the way from New York we are to meet in LA.” He chuckled. “It’s such a small world.”
Tarix relaxed a bit. Perhaps he was her schoolteacher, but from her expression she didn’t seemed convinced.
“So where’s your sister? Is she in LA too?” asked Lynkes, and that stroked a nerve in Tarix.
“Wait a minute, if you know my sister then how could you know that it was me here, and not her?”
Lynkes smiled. “Oh please, I taught you both enough to know which is which. For some reason Jessamine seemed to hold herself differently to you.” After that he went into how much he knew them, and how they used to behave, and even though it was for two years, he seemed to know them like his own kids, that there was something about both the twins’ personalities. Tarix relaxed beck again and even seemed to enjoy his stories, some of which matched with flashbacks she was getting, and she couldn’t help laughing at some of them.
Then something weird happened, her head shot up in pain and she had to grab her head and kneel down, crying out. Lynkes stopped talking, getting a concerned look on his face and tried to help Tarix by lightly asking her what was wrong.
What was wrong was Tarix was getting more flashes, memories that came rushing in, and then stopped coming. She looked up and sighed, “Sorry about that Mr. Lynkes, it sometimes happens a…” She stopped a look of horror came on her face as she looked at him, her voice caught in her throat, she suddenly knew who he was.
Lynkes didn’t seem alarmed, but smiled, “Finally, she understands. It sure had been a long time Jasmine, I was wondering when you would understand.” He came closer and brought her hand to her cheek. Tarix was still frozen in horror, not knowing how to move. “Oh, you are still so pretty…” SNAP, a form came into view and knocked Lynkes’ hand out of the way.
It was Jessy, and from the corner of Tarix’s eye she saw her coming down, her eyes dark and her movement fast. She had come and knocked Lynkes' hand and him out of the way, her nostrles flaring.
“HOW DARE YOU COME HERE!!!” she shouted, her voice quivering. Tarix looked at Jessy still very much shaken, but Jessy still seemed very dangerous, glaring at Lynkes.
Who got up and dusted himself, chuckling. “Well hello there Jessamine, I was askin…”
“DON’T! Just get lost! She doesn’t need you here any more, you can just get lost.” Jessy glanced back at Tarix, as if making sure she was still there and all right. “She’s changed, and doesn’t need dirt like you.”
“You need to mind your mouth, young lady” Lynkes said, now replying to Jessy’s anger. “I just came by to see how she’s doing.” He looked back at Tarix and smiled slightly, “I will be seeing you again.” And with that he left.
Jessy and Tarix stood there for quite a long while, looking at Lynkes' disappearing form, and not saying a word. Finally Jessy calmed down and took Tarix’s arm and guided her back up the stairs, a silent agreement between them both that probably this wasn’t the best time to go out for dinner. Tarix was still pretty much shaken up and thanked Jessy in her own mind for not asking her any questions. She came to her apartment and sat down on her couch, shivering. Jessy had also come in, and started to make some tea for Tarix and coffee for herself. She sat down beside Tarix, handing her a cup and they both drank it in reticence, both gazing deep into their thoughts, Jessy still very much serious, and occasionally looking at her sister.
Finally when they had finished their cups, Jessy took it and told Tarix she’d clean them and that she might as well get some rest. She got up and went towards the kitchen again. After she had washed them she came back to Tarix.
“I think I’ll go to my own place and give Thule a call and tell him what happened,” she said softly.
“Jessy,” Tarix called as she was about to go, “How did you know?”
Jessy had her back to her sister, and looked down. “I could sense his aura, I’ve seen it before.” And with that she left.
Tarix didn’t know how she felt, and finally she looked back and raked her brain and found out that she now had her memory back entirely. She knew how Jessy felt, that she’d be even more careful with her after today’s encounter, and Tarix knew she was right to do so. She tried not to think of it, but would her evil past come back to haunt her? Would it come back and take her over? She didn’t know, but she knew that she was no longer her past, she was no longer Jasmine. But she couldn’t help feeling that one of the elements of the past had come back to haunt her. The Macabres had finally found her again.
Introducing Brent Spiner as Henry Lynkes
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 2nd
Alessa’s apartment
4:00 am
The hand caressed her back, under the nightgown. Alessa protested and slapped it away. Stubbornly the hand moved again, this time around her nape, caressing, cajoling; moving her long hair away. The other hand moved along her spine, tracing little circles down to the small of her back. Alessa stirred and smiled. She kept her eyes closed though, and enjoyed the mounting feeling. Soon the mouth joined the hands on their job, and it started placing little kisses on her warm skin. She felt her nightgown be raised up her legs and slip past her arms and head. Still she pretended to sleep.
She felt him kneel by her side, and his hot breath on her skin; goose bumps formed in her back and arms. His hands continued their sweet cajoling and hers clamped on the wrinkled sheets. She bit her lip to refrain a moan as he kept on caressing and kissing her, from nape to waist, concentrating on the skin of her back, not saying a word. When she felt she couldn’t stand it any more and tried to turn around to respond to him, his hands turned strong and kept her face down. She sighed and gave way to the game.
“Chance,” she whispered, “I want…”
“Shh,” he interrupted and leaned to silence her with a kiss. Her mouth bit his, hungry, but he retired before she could stop him. Frustrated, she tried to turn again, only to be stopped once more. “Not yet,” he said and she moaned again, in anticipation.
Finally, she felt him lie on top of her and just stay there. She welcomed his weight on hers and smiled again, her arms stretching backwards to hold him. He took her hands in his and led them back towards the mattress, beneath her body. With a swift movement, he reversed their positions, now with him beneath her, but still not facing each other. Alessa laughed and giving up any pretense she leapt forward to disentangle from his hands, turning to face him.
It was very dark and only the moon’s silver reflection on the wall faintly illuminated the room. However it was enough to see her lover, enough to see Morris’ yellow eyes glowing on his vampire face.
“Hello Alessandra,” he said and started to laugh.
She cried.
Her screaming woke him. He jumped in confusion to find her sitting up in bed clutching the covers and screaming. Her eyes were open but unfocused. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently, getting no response.
"Alessa! Wake up. It's just a dream." He shook a little harder and was surprised when he received a hard blow on his jaw. She jumped over him and they both fell to the floor, her fists still showering blows on his face. Trying to avoid her hands without hurting her, Chance grabbed her arms and tried to still the hysterical woman in his arms.
“Alessa!!” he cried again, “Stop it, love! It’s me, it’s Chance!” But she didn’t hear him, she couldn’t hear him. Surprised, he noticed that she was naked and involuntarily he stirred. Annoyed with himself, Chance slapped her with a little more force than he had intended. The blow was effective, though; Alessa stopped struggling and looked at him. He was relieved when sanity crept into her eyes and the screaming stopped.
“Chance?” she asked, and he nodded, a little shaky, letting go of her arms but uncertain of what to do next. He almost fell down on his back again when she threw herself into his arms, this time to hold him. “Oh, Chance!”
Alessa closed her eyes, and buried her face against Chance’s neck. The harder she tried to fight it, the harder she cried. Her entire body shook with each sob and she clung to Chance, the only piece of security she had left.
He wrapped her in his arms and held her tight as she cried. He didn’t tell her to stop. He hadn’t seen her cry like this in all the time they had been together, and guessed she needed the release. He just let her cry.
"It's all right. Just a dream, love. Shh," he said once she stopped shaking and her sobs faded to the occasional whimper.
“No.” She shook her head, once calmer. “It wasn’t just a dream.” She looked around and noticed her discarded nightgown beside them, and shivered. She closed her eyes tightly. “It was rape.”
At Chance’s look, she slowly told him what had happened. “It wasn’t a dream,” she finally said. “And if it was, it wasn’t my dream.” She looked away. “I’m sorry."
"Shh," Chance answered, “You don’t have anything to feel sorry about. But he will, when I put my hands on him,” he said fiercely, his eyes hard.
She put her finger on his mouth to shush him, and noticed his swollen lip. Gingerly, she touched the fresh cut on his bottom lip. It was nothing compared with the way they had been bruised and swollen before; yet she was responsible for it. “I’m sorry about this, too,” she said, tracing his mouth with her finger.
Chance smiled at the true sorrow in her eyes. “I’ve had worse,” he said, and against his will he felt himself stir again. *This is not the moment,* he thought, and took her hand to stop her. “Let’s go to sleep now. In the morning we’ll think how to deal with this.”
“Shh,” she protested, and freed her hand to follow the path across his lips once more. They were always so soft against her own… She wondered how they would feel now. She moved to find out, but he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her up to look at him.
"Pet, you’re still half asleep." His voice sounded rough, almost hoarse.
"No, I’m not," she said. "I know what I’m doing. I need this. I need you." And it was true, she needed his love to exorcise herself.
Alessa giggled as he gathered her up in his arms. She grazed her lips across his cheekbone and along the soft underside of his jaw as they climbed onto bed again.
***
On the other side of town, the vampire lost connection with his prey, but he kept on laughing. Roxana laughed too, sensing his triumph, and gasped when he roughly took her in his arms, his arousal evident. She vamped out to meet his lust.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Friday, 1st December 2006
Poplar Ave,
Darian’s Apartment.
Previously on LA By Night:
- Tash phones Chance and Alessa to say she's with Cole in Darian's flat
- Chance leaves Alessa and Tash to chat while he takes coffee into the room where Darian is watching over Cole
Chance stepped into the bedroom, holding out the cup for Darian. "Here, coffee," he said, keeping one eye on the half-fae and the other on Cole.Darian eyed Chance up and down for a moment, but decided not talking was worse than getting it all out in the open. He cleared his throat, "I know you must not be happy to leave your friend here, and I can't blame you. You have no reason to trust me after what happened. But I just want you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to make sure he gets better.”
Chance let out a deep breath and sat down heavily. He looked at Cole long enough to know that the kid was still out, then turned back to Darian. “Not one for beating round the bush, eh? I remember the days when everything was so formal a simple conversation about the weather took hours. Hell, was it boring.”
He let out a small smile. They needed this conversation; they both knew it. Chance figured the best way to start would be to ease some of the tension in the air. More than one tense moment like this had led the way to disaster in the past.
Darian smiled back, and the atmosphere began to ease. “Tell me about it. But I meant what I said. You shouldn’t trust me, I know that. Nevertheless I’m going to make sure he gets better.” He nodded at Cole by way of explanation.
An uncomfortable silence descended again. Chance swirled the warm liquid around in his mug, raised it to his lips, then changed his mind and set it down on the floor next to his feet. Holding his hands together and leaning on his knees, he took a deep breath. “Okay. This is how I see it. I was pissed off with you before, yeah that’s true. I guess I still am a bit. I was ready to kill you. And I would have done, don’t get me wrong. And I probably would have hated myself even more afterwards if I had done so. That’s what I get for knowing only half the story.
"But since then things have changed. I know more about you - and myself, for that matter. You might say I’ve become a little more wise, a little more forgiving of both others and myself. I know what you did wasn’t your fault. I know this because I was going through more or less the same thing. So I don’t blame you for what you did to me. That wasn’t your fault.”
Chance snorted, “I guess we both need to be told that. Secondly, you saved Cole at the Hyperion. You did what I couldn’t. Then you threw yourself at Dathan even though you couldn’t win. You saved me, but then I saved you, so we’re even on that one.
"Now, you might say I’ve lived a very long time. And in that time I know of more than one potentially prosperous alliance that has gone to hell because one side didn’t give the other a second chance. I’ve seen you fight, Darian. You’re good, and to be honest I’d rather have you with me than anything else. Finally, the very fact you’re here now, wanting to help Cole, shows you’re a good man.
"Can I trust you? No more than you or Tash or Cole or Alessa can trust me because of Dray’chen threatening to pop out at any moment. In which case it all boils down to this; do I want to trust you? My answer to that is, yeah, I do. Why? For everything I’ve said.”
He remembered his conversation with that girl at Bob’s, Adriana. Perfect. “And the fact that in this place, you need all the friends you can get. So, yeah. I’m still slightly pissed. But you could say I brought it on myself. After all, in a way it was me who earned Evexus’ wrath by banishing him way back when.” Chance smiled again, then sat back. Well, all his cards were on the table. Now just to wait for Darian’s hand.
Darian’s mouth hung open. It worked a few times but no words came out. This was… unbelievable. Chance just kept on surprising him. First he had spared him, and now this. “I… I… I don’t know what to say. I mean… this is more than I could ask for. You shouldn’t… you can't forgive me for what I did.”
“Yes I can,” Chance said, “And I have.”
“Chance, I-” Darian began, but Chance waved his arm and cut it off.
“I know what you’re going to say, so you don’t have to bother. Look, I don’t blame you. I trust you to look after Cole. Let’s just leave it at that, ok?”
[/]Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 3rd
3:05 am
It was late into the night, and surprisingly the day had been uneventful. Cole was still unconscious, but steady, and Ernie was still showing signs of recovery. However, Alessa lay on her side curled up comfortably next to Chance but unable to fall asleep. A ‘tossing and turning’ night seemed to be in store, in part because she was afraid of dreaming after last night. Sighing, she got up and dressed, trying not to wake the sleeping Chance.
She made herself a cup of hot tea and walked to the window, watching the night outside. She thought if it would be wise to leave the safety of her home, and then silently laughed. *Safety, indeed…* She wouldn’t become a prisoner in her own house. The smells and lights of the city at night sometimes helped her to either concentrate or to clear her mind, and she wanted to take a walk. She took a light jacket and her stake, *Just in case,* and left the apartment, closing the door softly behind her.
As she walked out of the apartment complex she saw the moon shine on the pool and felt the sweet smell of autumn flowers in the night air. She set her hands deep in her jacket’s pockets and hurried her pace.
The blond vampire leaned back against brick wall. It was dark, the moon hidden behind the clouds, so he hadn’t the slightest concern that any security guard would see him in the spot he had chosen. A nearby wall cut away any illumination from the bright spotlights mounted around the club’s entrance. He was bored; this waiting was exasperating, but he always liked to feed on high-stung disco girls. He loved the taste of the drugs and booze in their blood. He could hear a rhythmic thrumming inside the club. Cocking his head, he tried to guess what was playing. *Latin,* he decided, just his kind of music. Suddenly the club’s door opened and three women danced out of it. He narrowed his eyes slightly as the three figures approached his hiding spot. He slowly knelt. As he curled back into the shadows one of the figures tripped, and a very feminine giggle could be heard. He smiled and prepared to attack when they went by him.
Alessa had walked aimlessly and absently around, enjoying the chilly night. Alhambra streets were almost deserted and she crossed only a couple of people in her rambling. Without noticing, she had approached the “Azul Bar & Nightclub” where Inés and her had gone clubbing not so long ago. She shivered, that had been the night when she had confirmed Morris survival from the Hyperion. It seemed so long ago, but only a month had passed.
As she walked towards the club she could hear the drowned thrum of music, and she smiled thinking of her cousin - would she be inside? She saw a group of girls leave tipsily and shook her head; hopefully they would find a taxi soon, she thought. Then her eyes noticed a slight movement across the street. She narrowed her eyes, scanning the shadows. *A vampire.*
She looked at the girls again as they walked unaware towards the crouching creature. One of them tripped dizzily and giggled when her companions helped her on her feet again. They wouldn’t stand a chance. Alessa sighed and reached for her stake in the back of her jeans.
She moved to the wall and looked down at her hands. They were changing color. She never ceased to amaze at that unconscious reflex, but was grateful when she could merge into the shadows and approach the vampire undetected. He was ready to leap at his prey, too immersed in his hunt to notice her coming to his side. It was too late when he sensed something and looked back to her, his eyes opening in alarm at the last moment, and then looking down to the stake protruding from his chest before exploding into dust.
Alessa blinked twice at the dust. “That was too easy,” she said to herself, a little disappointed. In her present state of distress she would have welcomed a good fight.
“Hell, any kind of fight,” she muttered, turning to see the three girls go round the corner. They were too high to even notice the danger they had been in. Alessa reached to her back to hide her stake again, and yawned. She looked to the sky, it was already clearing and she should start going back, but thought about the girls again. A huge yawn overwhelmed her, telling her that she would do better to forget them and start towards home. There weren’t many vampires in LA after the Brotherhood cleansing campaign and the Hyperion’s battle after all.
“What would a White Hat do?” she asked herself smiling, and started to walk towards the spot where the girls had disappeared as sole answer.
Tash’s proposal was very clear in her mind since they had talked a couple of days ago. It was one of the reasons of her insomnia tonight, one among many, but at least a good one. She had kept replayed the huntress’ words in her mind, and the more she thought about it, the more at ease with the notion she felt. It would be good to be part of such a group, she decided. She hadn't spoken to Chance about the proposal yet, although it included him of course. She thought Tash would like to speak to him herself, but he had been too brisk when he had emerged from Darian’s room after checking on Cole, and they had left soon afterwards. He hadn't spoken about his conversation with the fae either, and she hadn't pressed him to tell. The fact that both of them had walked out of the room alive was enough for now.
“White Hats,” she whispered again. She wondered how would Tash implement the idea, though. One thing was to plan it and another to actually put plans to action. But she was more than willing to help the woman in doing it. If the Hyperion was a signal of what they could accomplish together, they could indeed become a force to be reckoned with, like Tash had said. Sorrow's loss had been tragic, true; but it hadn't really been a casualty. The mage had known what he had been doing and had made a choice.
Alessa smiled. She finally felt part of something again; as much as she despised the Council, she hadn't felt like this since the time she had been trained as a potential, before Morris had resigned his position. *Morris.* She grimaced, trying not to follow that train of thought.
As she turned around the corner she saw how the girls got into a taxi, giggling like mad at one of them falling next to the car. She shook her head and wondered if she had ever been so young and stupid. *No bloody chance.* She’d never been so young. Stupid… well that was another thing. Suppressing another yawn she retraced her steps, heading back home.
When she finally slipped into bed, she noticed that she felt at peace. She felt good. She could finally understand why Chance, and Tash, for that matter, spent so much time hunting. It was a good feeling, knowing that you were helping people. Maybe as good as watching understanding creep into a kid’s face when he could finally grasp a difficult concept or produce a fairly good piece of writing.
Chance suppressed a relieved sigh when he felt her enter the bed. He had woken after another nightmare to find her gone and had been nervously waiting for her. Not that he didn’t mind losing the sleep.
The dreams were getting worse. Every time he closed his eyes now and started to drift off he was plunged into the horror, the bloodshed, the maddening death. Over and over again the images would pass in front of his eyes. And it was always the same. The desert, the valley, the massacres. And then the building on the hill.
He wished he could grasp the significance of the dreams. They meant something, of that he was sure, but he didn’t know what. Chance searched Matthew's memories for any idea as to why he was getting them, but found nothing. Dray’chen he didn’t even want to look into. All he wanted was for them to end, for the death and destruction to stop. He’d do anything to make it go away.
Chance didn’t like to think of Alessa in the streets with that mage-vampire around, despite the fact he knew she could probably take care of herself. He had been about to go look for her, after all, there was no hope of going back to sleep when it was only the visions that awaited him, when he heard her back. He didn’t want her to know, though. She wasn’t having a good time either.
“Where were you?” he asked instead, and held her into the crook of his arm, happy to feel her cool skin next to his.
“Hunting,” she answered. Smiling, she curled next to him and closed her eyes, falling instantly asleep.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 5th
4:30 am
Alessa sighed as she walked towards home. It had been another sleepless night, and as she was doing every time it happened she had gone out for a walk and some hunting. She could only fall asleep after she got herself exhausted. It was the only way she was sure she wasn’t going to dream. She knew she was tempting her luck, but she needed those times alone with herself. She suspected Chance was aware of her going, but respected her need for privacy. She sighed again, this time louder. Tiredly she rolled her shoulders; fortunately she wasn’t far from home.
The vampire heard her, and leaned down from a shadowed balcony to peek out of it. He spotted the lonely female and kicked his companions. When the other ones looked up he signalled to the street with his head. The other vampires smiled and stood up too, watching her. They waited.
Alessa walked on, unaware, edging closer and closer to the balcony. The vampire felt excitement bubble through his veins. Thirsty veins. He had not fed yet tonight. He could imagine her going limp in his arms, the sweet blood in his mouth. He heard her light footsteps with his sharp vampiric ear - she was drawing closer.
As Alessa walked down the shadowed building, she felt strange. Her senses were acting up. She stood deathly still, braced for combat. She felt inside her pocket for reassurance - her stake was there, nice and sharp. The air was heavy with the smell of vampires, but she couldn’t place them. She stepped forward a little, looking left and right, and waited. The moon shone full on the dark-haired huntress.
Suddenly the three vampires fell on her from the sky, literally. She looked up, scared and cursing herself for her idiocy, as the first vampire fell with all his weight on her. *Up! Why didn’t I look up?* she thought frantically as she tried to throw the laughing vampire off her. But she had been caught by surprise and the creature was already sitting on her, while his two companions took her arms. Alessa struggled beneath their weight, hissing at them. But couldn’t contend against the combined effort of the three bloodsuckers. She bit the vampire’s hand when he tried to touch her face.
“Oh, the girl has teeth!” laughed the vampire above her. “Don’t worry, love! So do we,” he added and vamped out.
He leaned to bite her neck but Alessa could finally free one of her arms and stroke at the vampire’s face, her nails elongating and biting deep into the vampire’s right eye. The creature howled and slapped her hard on her face. Alessa’s head snapped back against the pavement and she saw bright stars dance in front of her eyes, getting her momentarily dizzy.
“Hold her still,” groaned the vampire to his companions, cleaning the blood off his face. “This ain’t gonna be pretty,” he said, grabbing a handful of dark hair in his hand and levelling her eyes to his. “You’re gonna pay for this, bitch!” he cried, half blinded by pain and rage.
James watched the scene unfold before him as the young vampires jumped over the woman. He looked upon them with pity and he thought, *Three of you to take a woman - what is the world coming to?* James walked slowly up behind the vampire until he was inches from the nearest one. “You know, you shouldn’t treat a lady like that."
The young vampires snapped their heads round and snarled at him with their game faces on, hoping to scare him away. “Get lost, old man, before you get hurt."
James looked slightly shocked at their statement. "Pups, I’m sodding 32." Without missing a beat James sprang a stake from his sleeve and staked the nearest vampire. The second vampire ran towards him, but was met with a steel toe capped boot to the groin and an elbow to the spine knocking him to the ground. Before the vampire had time to get up the stake was deeply imbedded in his heart causing him to burst into dust. James simply looked at the last remaining vampire for him to get the point and flee.
Alessa looked up, mouth agape, as she managed to sit up. Everything had happened so fast! The only other person she had seen move like that was Chance. She inspected the man. He was tall and massively built. As he turned to her and offered a hand for her to stand, she looked into his merry blue-grey eyes. He was very handsome, she appraised.
He smiled down at her and she noticed his eyes raking through her. She suppressed her annoyance at his leering. He had helped her, after all, and he couldn’t possibly know that she would have solved the problem by herself. *Well, I would’ve tried, at least,* she thought, trying to be honest with herself.
Smiling weakly, she accepted the offered hand and lithely stood up. "Thank you," she said.
James gave his signature grin and quickly examined her from head to toe. He especially noted her dark hair and olive skin. He looked into her bright green eyes and spoke, "It's no problem, pet. T’was my pleasure, in fact."
James began to walk away from her, but as he neared the end of the alley he stopped and turned around. "Coming for a walk, then?"
Alessa had to laugh at the conceit of the man. She felt light-hearted, probably the adrenaline in her veins. She looked at him, and asked, “Is that an invitation?”
She was flirting! She couldn’t believe herself. She quickly added, “Because I live that way.” She signalled to the opposite direction. “And my boyfriend is waiting at home.” She feigned a nervous look around. “I would appreciate your company, though,” she said and smiled again. This man intrigued her and she wanted to know more.
James grinned, "I’ll be happy to walk either way, pet."
As they started to walk James looked at the girl for a moment, then his gaze was drawn to the streets. James turned back to her and smiled, "Name’s James, James Connor. And no, I'm not Irish, before you ask. What about yourself pet, what’s your name?"
"Alessandra, but everybody calls me Alessa," she said, and grinned again. Against her better judgement she couldn’t but respond to his charm. He was just too damn good! But he was strange too; she sensed something wrong about him. She inspected his profile as they walked towards the apartment building, but couldn’t quite place her feeling.
James was quiet for a second and spoke. "So, Alessa, what’s a girl like you doing out on a night like this? I'm assuming those fledglings attacked you for a reason… or is it common knowledge for all beautiful young women to carry stakes around?" he said, nodding to her pocket where the slight bulge of her stake was noticeable. "Because the last few times I've saved damsels in distress they have neither carried holy water nor a really pointy chopstick." James quickly chuckled because of the look on her face. "Oh what, come on! We both know what they were."
She found herself laughing again. And she had thought she had deceived him! “Well, if that’s settled we can talk more openly then. I just can’t sleep well lately. I have found out that the exercise helps me with my insomnia.” She didn’t have to explain what the ‘exercise’ was. “What about you? Why does a vampire fight his own?” It was a random guess, but she saw it had been accurate when he turned to look at her.
James smirked, "Well, that’s a bit of a long story. A lot of murder, betrayal… think Shakespeare with less incest."
Alessa gave a short giggle and she answered, "No, really. Why do you hunt your own?"
James looked at her with a half serious face. "Normal humans... I mean normal humans like innocent kids, women, hell, even men are just an easy bite to eat for most vamps... I shared that view for a long time; then something happened which made me open my eyes and realize the truth about some things. I'm not saying I still don’t hunt. I do. But it’s mostly humans worth killing... gang bangers, murderers, rapists, the worst kind of humanity."
James looked at her face which was one of concern. "Pet, don’t get me wrong. I'm not one of those souled vampires that legends speak of." James said this with a little bit of sarcasm wiggling his fingers at the same time. He gave her a quick grin. "Basically all I’m saying is I’m not the worst of the worst out there. I mean look at other demons - after all I know not every demon is an evil archfiend," he said giving her a sly wink.
She didn’t know if it was his charm, or the fact that he had hurried to save her when he had thought her vulnerable, but she liked him. *But he’s a vampire!* she protested, and still she couldn’t make herself distrust him. *Chance will so kill me when he finds out!* With that thought she inspected him again. He was looking down at her with a cocky smile. *He knows,* she guessed, and frowned. Maybe he saw her modify her hand or smelt it in her; she knew vampire’s sense of smell was as keen as demons’, well they were demons after all, demons in dead human bodies.
“How did you know?” she asked, unable to hide her curiosity.
James began to mutter in a voice he put on, "Perhaps it was my super vampire sense of smell or perhaps it's because I saw your claws in the vampire's eye - could be one of those things."
Alessa began to chuckle, he could have read her mind. "Well, my apartment is just around the block so I think it’s safe for me now."
James grinned. "Aw… but if I left you here, what kind of gentleman would I be?” James looked deep into her eyes and almost fell into them. He quickly regained his composure and spoke, "So you said you have a boyfriend... um, what’s his name?"
Alessa looked at him again. She couldn’t believe she was amiably chatting with a vampire. She considered whether to answer his question and finally said. “His name’s Felix, but he’s known as Chance. He’s more our kind of person too,” she added.
James' face brightened up with this news and his voice got excitedly loud. "What! You’re Chance’s girlfriend!? Aaw man, I wish I knew. I haven't seen that old dog in a short time, darling. Since when have you been going out with the old Dray’chen/Chance head case?" James began to laugh hysterically. "Sorry, sorry. Don’t take offence to the head case remark. I’ve got a bit of what he had."
Alessa took a step back. *He knows Chance? Dray’chen?* Her eyes shone a dangerous red as she heard him laugh. What were the odds of her meeting one of Chance’s foes? She widened her eyes when she made the connection, so this was the James that Chance had told her about. She took another step back; she was afraid now, the vampire was a formidable opponent for him. She knew she stood not a chance against him if he decided to hurt him through her.
She looked into his eyes again, trying to hide her fear. She couldn’t have been so mistaken about him, please, she just couldn’t. Then she remembered the first time she had heard about him, the morning after they had saved Chance, although they hadn’t known he was a vampire then. And he was Vincent and Darlome's friend. She hadn’t seen them since the Hyperion and didn’t really like Darlome, to be honest, but she considered them allies nonetheless. She knew Chance had made a lot of enemies in his Dray’chen days, people who weren’t necessarily evil - like Darian. Maybe she hadn’t been mistaken after all.
“How are Vincent and Darlome?” she asked, trying to make him connect her with his friends. She eyed him with caution, nevertheless, and kept on looking at her apartment complex.
James nodded. "Darlome is busy doing his mojo and Vincent is helping him out. He was kept busy by school. He mentioned that he saved your lives or more so, the Harbingers did."
Alessa looked a little confused. "Harbingers?"
James nodded. "Yeah. See those guys that killed the vampires who were attacking you that night? They are called the ‘Harbingers’. Really mean group of people; even the Elders would be hard pushed to kill them."
Alessa nodded, remembering the nasty group of vampires that had distracted their attackers and allowed them to flee the night she had met Chance.
As they reached the apartment, James stopped at the stairs with her and continued to talk, “I hope I haven’t given you a negative impression, like your boyfriend has of me.”
She smiled. “No,” she said, “You did help me, after all. I’ll just be careful of your smile, that’s all.” He bowed his head, in a very fifties way, and she chuckled again. She looked at her door, “Well, I have to get going now. Thank you again, James.”
He winked at her. “My pleasure. Again.”
She was turning when a thought crossed her mind. “James?”
“Yeah?” he answered.
“Have you heard of a vampire called Morris in the streets?”
“Nooo, can’t say I have, pet. Why?”
Alessa bit her lip, asking herself if she should tell him. She finally said. “Can you just pay attention to rumours and tell me if you hear of him?” She looked at him in the eye. “It’s very important.”
“Sure,” he said, and she gave him a brilliant thank you smile, before turning to enter her apartment.
As she fished for the keys in her pocket, James looked at her one more time. "Alessa?"
"Yes?"
As she looked back, James gave her a short kiss on the lips and quickly turned around and headed down the street. Alessa was taken aback by this and stood silent for a moment before entering the building.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
***Thursday November 30th 11:00 am***
Jeet waved and smiled as Toni drove away. He made his way upstairs and entered his apartment. He closed the door then rested his head against it as he let out a sigh. *I can’t go on like this much longer.* He’d managed to keep his feelings from Toni but Jeet wasn’t coping with the upheaval in his life at all well. Although he had adapted to the technological side of modern life easily enough, reading books and putting the theory into practice, he was struggling with the social aspects of LA life. Everyone he had met had been friendly and tried to help him settle in, especially Toni, but it just wasn’t home. *I don’t belong here.*
Jeet walked over to the window and lifted the blind with one hand. *Look at them all,* he watched the passers by in the street as they went about their lives, *No one stops to talk to anyone. They just rush around, too busy to stop, too scared to speak to anyone.* He looked up and down the street; buildings surrounded him. *Buildings everywhere, each one bigger than the next. I don’t think I’ve seen more than ten trees since I’ve been here - and the smell.* Jeet cringed as he thought about the smell the air carried everywhere he went, *I’ll never get used to that!*
*Why do they live like this? Everything has to be bigger or faster or more powerful; so many people and yet no one talks; noise and lights everywhere you turn.* Jeet had found it increasingly more difficult to concentrate of late because of the noise from the streets. *Everything has to be turned on and turned up. Toni warns me not to talk to people as they could be anyone but why should that make a difference? Is everyone out for themselves? Does everyone have an angle?* Jeet sank into a chair, his head cradled in his hands. His head was spinning; these feelings had been building up for weeks and on top of all his unanswered questions it had just grown too much for Jeet. He broke down and started to cry.
He sat there in tears for what seemed like an eternity, a rage slowly building inside him. “Why me? WHY ME?” Jeet tossed his coffee table in the air before falling to his knees. “Why am I here?” he sobbed as he slowly rocked in a ball on the floor. “I just want to go home!”
Jeet was standing outside a small village. Aside from a few small houses, he was surrounded by trees and deep green grasses blowing in the wind. There was a sweet smell in the air of fresh grass. Small children were playing outside their homes without a care in the world. It was so quiet; he could hear the wind rustling in the trees and the faint laughter of the children. He walked into the village; every dwelling he passed housed a smiling face that waved and shouted a greeting to him as he went by. The children ran up to him and started playing around his feet. He bent down and picked up the smallest child. “And who might you be?” he smiled.
“I’m Mina,” the child giggled. “You’re him aren’t you? You’re Jeet Su My! Are you here to save them?”
“Yes, yes I am Jeet. But how did you..? Save who?”
But the child was gone. Jeet was standing in the middle of the road in downtown LA. Cars roared past him sounding their horns, music pumped from the buildings all around him. The smell of the fresh grass had disappeared; it had been replaced by the stench he had grown to hate over the passing weeks. “No, I want to go back, take me back home!” Jeet shouted at the top of his voice, but it was just a whisper in the wash of noise. “Please, please let me go home!” He fell to his knees.
“It’s O.K., don’t cry.” The young girl was shaking Jeet’s shoulder. He was back in the village kneeling in the grass. “You’re there for a reason,” the girl smiled as she wiped a tear away from his face. “They need you now.”
“What reason? Who needs me?”
***14:30***
Jeet awoke suddenly on his living room floor; his eyes were red from crying. He looked up at the clock; he had been asleep for hours. He slowly got to his feet and went into the bathroom, turned on the taps and splashed water on his face. *Look at me, I’m a mess.* He was leaning on the sink staring into the mirror, and as he stared he thought he could see the faces of his old masters next to his in his reflection. They seemed to be smiling at him, offering reassurance. *I will not let this place, this new world beat me!*
He marched back into the living room with a new found conviction. “I’ll show you, you won’t beat me,” Jeet muttered to himself as he turned the coffee table right side up. “You hear me, whoever you are? I won’t give up that easily, you’ll see,” Jeet shouted. *You’ll all see.*
Jeet pulled off his shirt and stood underneath the highest pull up bar he had installed, took a deep breath, jumped up and grabbed it. He spent the next few hours working himself harder than he ever had before. Chin ups, sit ups, press ups, kata, then more chin ups. By the end of his workout Jeet was dripping with sweat, but he felt good; he hadn’t pushed himself that far in a long time. He felt revitalised, his head was clear – he was hungry!
“Hi, Toni, yeah it’s me. Do you want to grab something to eat? Great, pick me up in about an hour? See you then. Toni… Never mind, see you soon.” Jeet hung up the phone; he had wanted to tell Toni how he had been feeling but didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Toni had done so much for him. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful, and he felt better now anyway so what was the point? He wasn’t sure he’d convinced himself but his thoughts had now led him elsewhere. *I’d better grab a shower.* He had just realised how much of a sweat the training had worked up.
He finished his shower and changed into some clean clothes. *Just time for a drink before Toni arrives.* Just as he was about to open the fridge there was a knock at the door. “Come in Toni,” he shouted as he buried his head in the fridge, “I’m just grabbing a drink.”
He heard the front door open. “You’re early.” He turned around and saw that it wasn’t Toni standing before him, but a young woman. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m sorry to bother you like this but I really need to speak to you,” the woman replied meekly.
“I said, who are you?” Jeet’s voice was somewhat louder this time.
“Sorry, sorry,” the woman was obviously scared. “I’m Evie, Evie Williams.”
Just as Jeet was about to open his mouth again he heard voices outside his apartment, he recognised one as Toni’s but the other he had not heard before.
“But I need to see him,” argued the unknown voice.
“Well you can’t, someone like you has no business with him,” came Toni's voice in return. He sounded irritated and yet anxious.
“But I have information that he needs to know. Just let me in, will you?” The voice suddenly became louder as a man stumbled through the door.
“Jeet I presume?” The man regained his footing and half raised his hat, “I’m Whistler.”
Toni entered the room looking most disgruntled.
Jeet looked around at the three people now in his apartment. “What the hell is going on here?”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Friday, 1st December 2006 - 10:30 PM
Alice sat quietly reading her new book.
Alice stopped for a moment looking up from her book. She placed her bookmark back in its place and closed her new book. “It’s about time you decided to show up. I have been up here for the last five nights waiting on you.” Alice stood up looking across the rooftop at the three figures, carefully meeting the gaze of each one. Augustus, Richard and Christian - all faces she knew and had even helped train. "I’m glad to see the Order hasn’t forgotten me."
The three men formed a small semi circular line in front of Alice. “Betrayer, by order of the Council of the Nine you’ve been accused of disobeying the Council's wishes and abandonment of your contract. Do you have anything you wish to say in your defense or a message to deliver to the Council?”
Alice grinned at her messenger. “Sounds like you have been practicing that. No, I have nothing to say and as for a message,” Alice unsheathed her knife, “I think they’ll get the message.”
Christian began waving his hands in complex patterns, which seemed to leave flaming symbols lingering behind each pass of his arms. Seconds later a dome of flaming bars surrounded Alice. “Oh. Trapped bunny,” Alice said as she ran her blade through the bars.
“No it’s worse than that,” Christian announced as the dome began to shrink.
“Oh. Cooked bunny,” she said, placing the back of her hand on her forehead. “Oh, what ever shall I do?”
Alice (in true John Woo fashion) dropped her knife, drew her US Socom pistols and shot Christian through his throat, leaving the poor caster gasping for air. As her fiery cage dissipated, Alice holstered her guns with a little cowgirl twirl and squatted down for her knife. “Ok boys, who’s next?”
Richard pulled a pair or jagged hunting knifes from his coat. “I've been waiting for this for a long time, bunny bitch.” With that he charged Alice, slashing his blades wildly at her.
Augustus yelled, “Richard! No! Together!”
But it was too late. Alice ignored the random slashes as Richard’s blades left minor cuts on her. With an almost too easy duck and step she plunged her knife hilt deep in his back breaking bone and piercing his heart. Alice stood and looked at Augustus as the dust of Richard quickly dissipated.
“He was never a good student. On the other hand, Augustus, you knew when to back down when you were beat.” Alice looked at his face; she could see that he had no desire to die. “You don’t have to do this. The Council should know better then to send some wet behind the ear kids to take down a seasoned killer like me.”
Augustus smiled, “They do.”
Alice suddenly fell to the ground as a hypodermic dart injected its venom into her thigh. Alice’s vision quickly blurred and she could no longer stand.
“We were only to distract you until he took you down.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
***December 4th, 2006 - Adriana’s Apartment - 5:15 pm***
Adriana pulled open various drawers and pulled out a bundle of clothing. She was frustrated with Bob’s rejections of her request to leave to go to her cousin’s wedding. Now Drea was making a risky move by just leaving. But it was worth it. It was going to be the happiest day of Sergei’s life and Adriana wasn’t going to miss it.
As she began folding her clothes neatly in her suitcase, her phone rang. Drea picked it up and answered, “Hello?”
From the other line, she heard hysterical weeping. Then, Adriana heard a familiar voice, “Drea?”
It was Sergei. Adriana smiled and responded, “Sergei! How are you?”
Sergei gave an exasperated sigh. Even over the phone, it sounded as if he wasn’t doing too well. “Remember how the wedding was supposed to be in Georgia on that nice old plantation we found?” he asked sorrowfully. Adriana knew he was implying something.
“What do you mean by supposed to be?” she asked, worried. The sobs in the background grew louder. Drea recognized them. It was Gwen.
Sergei continued, “Well, the people running the former plantation found out what... what we are. That we’re...” He trailed off. Adriana knew what he meant to say.
She replied, “Gypsies. They won’t let you guys hold the wedding there because we’re gypsies.” Drea slumped onto the floor as she let the news sink in. She could imagine Sergei nodding his head over in Manhattan.
“Yeah. How they found out, your guess is as good as mine. Gwen’s upset, her parents are angry, Enzo’s furious, and God knows how Yolanda is gonna react. I just... I just don’t know what to do any more,” he explained. It sounded as if he was just ready to give up.
Adriana, who never liked seeing her cousin upset, politely suggested, “Well, I was gonna skip work to go to it, and now I guess I can skip it at another time.”
Sergei chuckled. They were silent for a moment. Out of the blue, Sergei said, “I’ve got it!”
This made Adriana jump a little. He seemed happy. It must have been something good. “What? What have you got?” she asked, impatiently.
Sergei went on, “California’s a nice state, yes?”
Adriana suddenly realized what he meant. “Oh God, no way, Serg! You don’t know what L.A.’s like!” She tried to convince him otherwise.
“It doesn’t have to be in Los Angeles. Venice Beach, Santa Barbara, Malibu-” Sergei began when Gwen, in the distance, gasped and shouted.
“Malibu! Oh Sergei, you actually mean it?”
Sergei laughed and replied to his bride-to-be, “Malibu it is!”
Adriana sat in utter shock. Malibu was awfully close to Los Angeles. Demons and vampires were everywhere. And she knew that Gwen wanted, and was going to have, an outside wedding. This made her nervous.
“Malibu? Are you sure..?” Drea began when Sergei interrupted.
“Do NOT pack your bags! Just get ready to help us pick out a location by the 6th!”
Adriana tried to crack a smile, but had a hard time doing so. “I... I don’t know what to say,” she simply said.
Gwen’s squeals of glee were becoming louder and louder. Sergei had returned to his old self again as he happily retorted, “Don’t say anything. Just be there with us this Wednesday. Gotta go. LOTS of people to call. See ya, Drea. Night, night.” He quickly hung up.
After a few seconds of the beeping from the phone roared in her ear, Adriana finally said, “Night, night.” Drea then hung up the phone. She knew she would regret letting them go through with this.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
***December 6th, 2006- Malibu Beach, California- 2:30 pm***
Gwenaelle Saracens is played by Audrey Tatou
Adriana stood next to Sergei and Gwen as they basked in the beauty of Malibu. It was quite warm for December. Gwen jumped up and down the more she observed the beach. Sergei wasn’t much of a beach person, but when it came to Gwen, he’d do anything for her.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Adriana?” Gwen asked, holding up her American accent well. She rarely let it slip.
Drea merely smiled and replied, “It is. But I still don’t know why you didn’t try to bargain with the owners of the plantation again. The area was beautiful. And it wasn’t cold!”
Gwen walked towards the beach. “We were, but then the thought of Malibu came up and it was so much better than the Georgia plantation idea,” she explained.
Adriana tried her best to smile, but it wasn’t working out very well. “But don’t you wanna be married in a romantic place? Georgia plantation equals Gone with the Wind! That’s a classic romantic film! Malibu Beach equals Baywatch! That’s free soft core porn! See the difference?” she pleaded with them.
Sergei walked to where Gwen stood and wrapped his arm around her. “Out there looks nice for the wedding reception,” he told her as he pointed outward.
Adriana gave a nervous sigh. She walked up to the couple and commented, “What about demons? Or vampires? We’re just out in the open like this. At least on the plantation there were gates.”
Sergei sighed at that and retorted, “Yolanda will be here. There won’t be a vampire or a demon within a five-mile radius with her around. She’s got a rep.”
Gwen then let a squeak of joy once she saw an adjacent patio. “We could hold the actual wedding right here! Let’s talk with owner!” she said gleefully as she grabbed Sergei’s hand towards the large white house which was connected to the veranda.
Adriana dropped onto the sand. *Be happy for them! This is their special day!* She tapped her head with the tips of her fingers to make the voice go away.
Truth be told, Adriana wasn’t all that thrilled to see the two clans come together. Gwen’s father and Enzo were always fighting, Gwen’s mother was always complaining, Gwen herself always ended up in tears over the commotion, and she and Sergei were always left trying to calm everyone down. Drea shivered at the previous memories.
Slowly, Drea rose and walked to Sergei, who was bargaining on the phone with the owner on the phone. Adriana saw beside them a large sign that read ‘House for Rent’. Gwen quietly clapped her hands as Sergei was making the deal with the owner. He then hung up the phone and hugged Gwen. Adriana gave a weak smile. It was official; the wedding was on.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
***December 12th, 2006- Malibu Beach, California- 2:30 pm***
Adriana was tempted to go to Bob’s at this point. They had been rehearsing for the wedding for only a few days and already everyone was driving her crazy. Gwen’s father, Christophe, was already trying to reason with both his wife, Nicolette, and Enzo about all sort of things. Gwen was bawling her eyes out, and Drea was able to picture Sergei on the other side of the house pacing around a room.
“Papa, mama will not let me wear the dress!” Gwen sobbed to her father in Romani.
Her mother stood next to her in a huff and replied, “I refuse to let my only child walk down the aisle in a wedding gown that was made by the Kalderash!”
Enzo angrily approached Nicolette. “You should be honored that the women of our clan have pulled together and made such a dress!” he shouted at the woman.
Adriana was leaning on the wall in the corner and slowly began banging her head against it. *It never fails!* she thought miserably.
Christophe stood between the two. “Calm down, calm down! Nicolette, my dear, the gown is gorgeous. Do not deny that. If Gwenaelle does not wear it, we would be insulting them. And I have no desire to offend the Kalderash clan,” he told his infuriated wife.
The Gypsy King then turned to Enzo. “My wife’s customs are ones of the past. She is used to the daughter wearing her mother’s dress on her own wedding. Of course, Gwenaelle is much too old to wear my dear wife’s dress. So, we gladly accept the astounding gown,” Christophe assured him.
Nicolette then began shouting, “She has embarrassed the clan by refusing to marry at 13! You should have let that Sergei marry her while they were young!” Enzo and Nicolette began shouting at each other so loudly that the rest of their conversation was unintelligible.
Gwen, upset by the whole thing, began walking to the door, shouting through her tears, “I’m going to see Sergei!”
This caught Adriana’s attention. She leaped from where she was and grabbed Gwen. “No, no, no! It's bad luck to see the groom before the wedding!” Drea pleaded with her.
Gwen turned to her and implored in broken English, “But I weezh to zee ‘im now!” Just as she was about to break into sobs again, Adriana helped her up and looked at her straight in the eye.
“Tomorrow is the happiest day of your life. You are going to marry the man you love in a simply beautiful ceremony and no one, not my uncle, not my grandmother, not your mother, not even your father, can stop this damn wedding from happening,” she proclaimed.
Gwen wiped away the jet black mascara that was running down her porcelain white skin. She nodded her head slowly. “Yez, yez, you are right,” Gwen said softly.
Adriana patted her on the shoulder and muttered, “Good girl.”
As she was about to walk away, Gwen grabbed Drea and told her in a wretched voice, “Adriana, I zink I am going to throw up.” Drea nodded and helped her along to the nearest bathroom.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 1, 2006
1:45am
LA was cold at night, Nikolai thought. It also offered no escape.
For two days now, tomorrow would be his third, he tried to escape his demons. The image of the demon only he could see had followed him though, as the communion with her got worse. Life in the apartment no longer became bearable so he set out a bag of cat food open and left, hoping to get away. To say that Nikolai was not thinking rationally was an understatement.
*Sleep,* he thought. That was what offered the only escape right now. Sleep. Blessed sleep. With it came solitude, the figure leaving him, and people no longer giving him the strange looks. Trigger came to see him several days before, listened to him, then gave him a name of someone he found that could help. Maybe he should try to find her…
…in the morning, he thought. Sleep and solitude called to him. Yawning, he stumbled towards the side of a building, letting himself slide down it. He pulled his coat around him tighter in an effort to keep warm. Minutes passed and it refused to come, when he caught site of the figure approaching in the distance. He curled up to think small thoughts, and hope that whoever it was just pass by like they always did in this city.
Adriana stormed through the alleys. *God damn you, Bob!* She stepped through a rather large puddle, splashing the bone chilling water on her knee high leather boots. Drea looked down and them and groaned. Tonight was not turning out to be the best night. Bob had denied her request to take off for a week so she could attend Sergei’s wedding.
*Ask him when he’s in a better mood,* a voice inside her head said. But Adriana ignored it. All she wanted to do was go home and get some sleep before she had to get up for classes in the morning.
About halfway to her apartment, Adriana saw a figure curled up in a ball leaning on a building. Any other person would pass the figure by, assuming it was a bum. But Drea grew up living with Lorraine Jones-Lautari, who volunteered at homeless shelters and worked food drives for the church. Adriana had to help him.
She walked closer to the stranger, now realizing it wasn’t a hobo. The figure was a seemingly normal man, just sitting there. Drea stopped when she was within two feet of the man. Adriana knelt on the ground and felt the freezing moisture hit her knees. She cringed a bit. *No more skirts ‘til spring.*
Slowly, she nudged the man’s shoulder with the tips of her fingers. “Sir, sir, are you okay?” Adriana asked politely.
Nikolai sighed inwardly. There would be no rest for him, it seemed. Had L’Than now started to mock him with a female voice? No, that was not her way. Opening his eyes he could make out the form of a woman near him. “I am tired and need to sleep,” he said, yawning. “It is the only escape left…”
She sat there, confused. Drea moved closer and felt his forehead. He had no fever. *The only escape he had left... what the hell does that mean?* Adriana sighed and then gently shook him. “Sir, sir, get up! Los Angeles is no place to fall asleep in an alley,” she cautioned him.
Nikolai snorted at that, pulling away slightly. “Nyet. I go home, she comes; I run, she comes. Can’t follow to sleep…” he stopped, recognising the look in the young woman’s eyes. It had gone from concerned to frightened and had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Sounds crazy, da? But still true.”
Adriana sat in shock. The man was out of his mind. But she recognized the ‘nyet’ and ‘da’. He was from Russia. Drea wished she knew Russian just so she could make him feel better. “Where do you live? I’d gladly help you back there, if you’d like. Unless you’d think she would be there,” Adriana said, trying to comfort the man. This woman assumed the woman he was talking about was an ex-girlfriend of his.
Nikolai laughed. Truth be told, he didn’t exactly know where here was. He’d just set out and started walking, then hadn’t stopped, and spent time trying to make sure he wasn’t simply picked up as a vagrant. Still, he laughed. “How do you hide from a ghost?”
It was so quiet between the two that the sounds of passing cars were now evident. No one had ever asked Adriana that before. Drea looked into the man’s eyes. It was evident that he hasn’t slept for several days. She slowly shook her head as she told the poor man, “I really don’t have an answer for you. Its not every day that I come across something like this. I assume... I assume you visit a person who performs exorcisms.”
Nikolai opened his arms in a broad gesture. “Bring me an old priest and a young priest!” He almost laughed to himself until he saw the hooded figure standing behind the woman that he knew too well. It could not hurt to try, so he began to gesture towards the figure. “The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!”
“Don’t be silly, Nikolai. You know what you have to do,” said the figure of L’Than.
As best he could, he ignored her, touching his finger to the side of his head. “Didn’t work, sorry. She’s in here.”
*Walk away, Drea, just walk away,* the voice in the back of her head screamed. Good advice. But Adriana didn’t. Drea now sat near him, mainly because her knees were hurting from all the kneeling she was doing. She looked behind where the man was pointing. There was no one there.
Drea turned back to the man. He wasn’t laughing any more. Rather, he had a horrified look on his face. “It’s the ghost, isn’t it?” Adriana sorrowfully suggested. After living in L.A. for two weeks and working at Bob’s, she knew not to question the impossible.
Nikolai shook his head slowly, trying to work out what was going on. The young woman seemed to be actually believing him. Which meant that either things were growing more complex, or she knew something about this world that Nikolai was just beginning to learn about. “Friend or foe?” he asked the woman questioningly, before growing more urgent.
“Friend or foe, friend or foe, friend or foe, friendorfoe, frie-?”
“Of course’s she’s a friend!” L’Than snapped at him. “You would see that her concern is genuine if you were not trying to run from what must be done.”
“Shut up!” He fell back, clapping his hands down over his ears.
Adriana grabbed his hand which rested over his ears. As she tried to pry them off, she repeatedly told him, “I’m a friend, I’m a friend!” Things were getting more confusing. Obviously, the ghost was telling this man something he didn’t want to hear. “It's okay, it's okay. I don’t bite, now do I?” she kidded with him and gave a little smile.
“A friend, a friend…” Nikolai repeated. He looked into her eyes as though trying to see her soul, discern the truth within. They did say that you could tell a traitor by looking in his eyes. But that was for traitors, he remembered, as he turned away. “That’s what they all say. They all say that! But how do I know, hmm? How do I know?”
“Well, if I was a foe, I would have had you killed by now, wouldn’t I?” Drea suggested. It probably wasn’t the best thing to say to the man, but it was all she could think of. “I’m Adriana. I don’t live too far from here. Would a foe tell you that?” Adriana told the man.
"Nyet, nyet," he said softly, as it made a small amount of sense. Unless she was a foe trying to earn his trust. Then that person would do it. But L'Than badgered him in the back of his mind continuously to accept her words as truth. "Kolya. Just want to sleep..." he trailed off, slumping back down against the side of the building as exhaustion took hold of him.
Adriana grabbed the man named Kolya from the building. *Kolya, Kolya...* In Romania, she knew another Romani named Kolya, which was short for Nikolai. *Finally, a name.* She removed her jacket and folded it into a pillow shaped clump of cloth. Drea placed it on the pavement and rested Nikolai’s head on it.
The cold air hit Drea hard, especially since her top was so thin. She hugged herself, trying to keep warm. Adriana sighed, her breath evident in the wind. Nikolai needed help. Where she was going to find some, she didn’t know. She continued to stand in the middle of the alley.
Nikolai stirred, forcing himself to remain awake. The hunter within would not allow sleep or trust, not while potential prey was nearby. She looked cold, he thought, that was for certain and felt something soft under his head. Sitting up, he handed the jacket back to her. "You need more than I do. Slept worse in Praugue. Snow on ground then, snow!"
Adriana took her jacket back from Nikolai and smiled. “Prague, haven’t been there yet. One day I will. But I have experienced a Rumanian winter, which is pretty damn cold. Thanks.” She wrapped back into her jacket. “Are you gonna be okay? I have a place for you to stay until you’re better,” Drea offered.
Nikolai laughed again. So trusting. She would not, he thought, suspect that she was talking to someone capable of casually killing a man. “Thank you but I must go,” he stammered out, forcing himself back up. The woman. That was where he had to go. And it was… where in relation to here? “Directions! A ride, yes, something like that. Alhambra. You know the way?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m new to L.A. myself. I suggest a bus. It’s the only thing I can think of,” Adriana commented. The laughing bothered her. But she let it slide. It was certain that this ghost that was haunting him had driven him off his nutter. “Keep in touch, Nikolai.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 5th
Los Angeles General Hospital
6:55 am
Ernie slowly opened his eyes and blinked. His mind registered the IV drip and the monitoring equipment. A hospital room. For a moment he wondered why he was in hospital this time. A memory of tremendous pain inundated him and he gasped. Alessa’s boyfriend… no, Dray’chen!!, the attack… oh dear, Andrea!! and the image of his wife’s head broken and bloody… all came flooding back to him. All that and a vague recollection of Dray’chen leaning over him, his face a picture of madness...
Ernie closed his eyes again. Andrea was dead, his wife of twenty years was dead. His eyes filled with tears at the absoluteness of the statement. She was dead. He remembered it clearly now. The bangs on the door, Malcolm’s body, and the intrusion of the demon in his house. His killing Andrea… The demon Alessandra had brought… Alessandra! The demon had threatened her too! He had to warn her, he needed to get to her… Ernie tried to straighten but couldn’t. Weak, he felt so weak; he couldn’t even move his hands… with that thought in his mind Ernie fainted again.
The second time he woke it was day. He noticed the light pouring from the window and setting a bouquet of red carnations into flames. A nurse moved around the room, oblivious of him having woken up. With an effort he moved his head towards her and tried to talk. Nothing happened; his throat was so dry it could have been made of sandpaper. He gathered some saliva to wet his mouth and tried again. This time a sound came, but it was too hoarse to be called otherwise.
The nurse heard him though, and she hurried by his side. He saw surprise in her face first, *Why surprise?* and she checked his IV drip and his monitors while he followed her with his eyes. He couldn’t move anything else, after all.
“Mr. Longwood, you are awake,” the nurse chattered, smiling at him and lifting his arm to time his pulse. “You gave me quite a start!” she laughed.
She was quite pretty, he noticed in a detached way. Young and pretty, too young to be a proper nurse. *Probably a volunteer,* he thought as he tried to ask for some water. He saw confusion in her pretty features until she understood what he was asking.
“Water? Oh, dear! I don’t know if you can drink now, with all the respirator thing and all.” She smiled brilliantly at him, before heading for the door. “Wait a minute. I’ll go fetch Dr. Richards, he needs to be called anyway.”
She left the room before he could manage to ask her what was that about a respirator. He sighed and closed his eyes, he would wait for Dr. Richards; it wasn’t as if he could go anywhere.
A young doctor came in soon enough. He was smiling at his patient as he leaned on him, flashing a light in his eyes to see the reaction of his pupils. *Are they all young in this hospital?* Ernie asked himself, while he submitted to the inspection. While he waited for him to finish the examination, he tried to move his legs under the covers. They were weak and numb, but they moved on his command. He wasn’t paralysed. He moved his arm a little too, he was dismayingly weak, but he could actually move. Good.
“Here, have a little water,” the doctor said when he finished his inspection. He picked the bed control and the upper side of the bed rose, tilting Ernie into a straighter position. He half filled a glass with cold water and approached it to his lips. “Sip it slowly,” he instructed. “It’s been a while since you’ve taken any food or liquid orally.”
He accepted the water. It was delicious and soothed his irritated throat. Then he frowned, there was something important he needed to remember, but just couldn’t. Something…
“Alessa!” he spurted when the memory finally came to his mind. He saw the doctor jump at his first word, and look at him, questioningly.
“Alessa? You mean Andrea, your wife?” he was about to start telling the poor man about her deceasing. It was terrible to wake from a coma to find out something like that. But the man in the bed shook his head in frustration, and there was urgency in his eyes.
“NO! Not my wife,” he managed to say, “Alessa! I have to talk to Alessa!”
The young volunteer approached the doctor and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Doctor, I think he means the girl who has been visiting him.”
Turning to Ernie, the girl smiled, “Ms. Hunt has been visiting you regularly, sir.” She gestured to the flowers, “She’s the one who keeps bringing you carnations. The rest stopped sending flowers some time ago.”
Ernie shifted his eyes to focus on the doctor. A terrible guess was creeping into his mind. “How long? How long have I slept?” he asked and noticed the disapproving look that the doctor threw at the nurse. The girl blushed and made herself busy around the monitoring machines.
“A while,” answered the doctor. “Now, tell me. Do you remember your name? Date of birth-”
He was interrupted when Ernie’s hand clasped in his sleeve with a strength that surprised doctor and patient alike. He looked at the old man’s icy eyes and answered. “Almost two months. You were in a coma for fifty four days, to be exact. Today is December 5th.”
Ernie’s hand dropped down; the effort of moving it had made him so light-headed that he thought he would pass out. And he closed his eyes again. Fifty four days!! No wonder he didn’t feel any pain, almost anything that demon could have done to him would have healed by now, if it hadn’t killed him in the first hand. With Andrea dead he almost wished he had. Tears came to his eyes again.
Then he opened his eyes and looked at the flowers. At least Alessa was still alive. A wave of relief went through him. The girl was tough, he should have known she would find a way to deal with the problem. For the first time since he had woken he smiled. He looked at the nurse this time and asked, “Could you please call Ms. Hunt and tell her I’m awake?”
The Merging - Part One
4th December, 2006
The Home of Kate and Galen Eldridge – Alhambra, Los Angeles
4:45pm
Nikolai spent a good portion of the day stumbling down the street. Nobody walked in LA, but he was in no condition to drive nor did he really want anyone to see him like this. It had taken a week, but he was finally listening to the suggestion that what was going on could be mystical. The demon L’Than who had haunted him was back again, walking beside him and talking. Their ‘conversation’ revolved around whether or not he really wanted to do this.
“You can’t be serious,” L’Than had said. “After all the lives you’ve destroyed, to consider taking another in cold blood like this when you promised to help.”
“I didn’t want to become nuts,” he mumbled back, drawing an odd look from a passer-by as they realised he was effectively talking to himself. “Just leave me alone.” The conversation continued like this, until an hour later he finally found the house he was looking for.
L’Than was standing in front of the doorway. “Please, Kolya, consider what you are about to do.”
Nikolai’s head swam as he pushed past the hallucination, and rang the doorbell. The house was large and white with a turret sort of affair on the first floor giving the building a stately appearance. The power of this place was tangible even to Nikolai’s untrained senses.
Kate was in the kitchen working on cataloguing her spell ingredients when she heard the doorbell ring. Emma was playing happily on the kitchen floor, banging a wooden spoon against a saucepan. She dropped the spoon as she heard the doorbell and mumbled a curious gurgle.
Kate picked up her daughter with a slight groan. “You’re getting heavy Em,” she said with a chuckle as she carried the child into the living room and set her down in her playpen. Emma gurgled again, grabbing a ball and banging it against the floor before throwing it over the side of the playpen in delight. Kate retrieved the squishy ball and handed it back to the baby.
“Now you be a good girl while I go answer the door,” said Kate as the doorbell rang again.
The black-robed figure of L'Than stood solemnly against the doorframe as Nikolai waited for a response. "Stop trying to convince me not to do this," Nikolai was saying to her as a very attractive woman opened the front door. "I want you gone!" He noticed the woman a moment later, and turned to her apologetically. "Not, not you, I'm sorry... I need help, you were recommended..."
Kate stared uncomfortably at the stranger, her hands curling around the door handle in hesitation. Her natural reaction would have been to just dismiss him as another crazy, but something inside her said no. The man that stood in front of her now looked... haunted. His eyes were dark and vast reflecting his inner distress and panic. It was obvious to Kate that this man was in need of immediate assistance. And yet… there was something familiar about him, his aura resonated an inner darkness that she had seen somewhere before…
Shaking away her confusion, Kate nodded her head in response to his desperate greeting and allowed him to enter the house, closing the front door behind him. It might have seemed risky but her instincts told her that he wasn’t a threat. "Please come in,” she said sympathetically, leading him to the living room. “Why don’t you sit?”
Nikolai moved silently towards a comfortable looking sofa with the woman helping him to steady himself. For far too long he'd been tormented by the demon. The black-robed figure moved again, this time standing near a small side table as she watched them.
"Thank you," he said softly when they were seated. "Nikolai." Then at the woman's puzzled expression, "Before you ask. Nikolai, my name."
"Catherine, Catherine Eldridge... but you can call me Kate." She placed a friendly hand on Nikolai's, getting a sudden, strong rush of emotion. Fear, confusion, panic... words weren't enough to describe the myriad of feelings running through this poor man.
"Maybe you should start by telling me what's happened to you Nikolai," Kate suggested, trying to make her voice sound calm and soothing in an attempt to placate him. She observed the man silently; somewhere in the back of her mind she felt that she’d heard his name before. ‘Nikolai’ might be a common name in Russia where this man obviously originated from but here in L.A it certainly wasn’t.
"Eldridge, such a lovely name," L'Than said, looking over the red-haired woman. "I can feel her concern and compassion. Perhaps you will take her counsel better."
Nikolai ignored the reptilian, instead trying to focus. "Dead, dead, almost dead. She saved me, then his men came. Men with guns!" He stopped to take several deep breaths as Kate continued to attempt to calm him long enough to at least approach coherence.
He focused hard, L'Than even trying to calm him as well... adding to his further confusion over the demon and her ethics. "They killed her, L'Than, when we escaped. Said she needed me to help her survive, now she's inside me, inside my mind. She's here, here now, standing by the table..."
Kate looked over towards where Nikolai was gesturing. Of course no one stood by the table, at least, no one that she could see anyway. She frowned slightly; had this been any other random stranger from the street she might have been tempted to dismiss his insane ramblings. But this man, Nikolai, his fear was genuine - that much she could tell straight away. Not only that but he seemed almost... embarrassed by what he was saying, as though he himself didn't want to believe his own words and was trying desperately not to.
Kate took both of his hands in hers, rubbing the man's trembling fingers between her own steady and assured caress. "Who is this L'Than, Nikolai?"
“A healer, a mystic, not like me!” Nikolai stammered out. There she was, still standing there, with that same look of concern and desire to help she always had. It was so… annoying! Still, how to put it? “Tried to kill me, Reah, yes. My friend found, took me to the demon healer-”
“Xangyarj,” L’Than corrected gently. He looked to her with a questioning expression, when the demon explained. “We are not unknown, though many regard us as a myth. If she has heard the name, she will know how to help.”
“Xangyarj,” he said, turning back to Kate. “That’s what she calls herself, says her people are called. Peaceful, she could never harm anyone, now I see her. She saved me, now she drives me mad…”
“It’s all right, Nikolai, you can tell me,” Kate said softly, as he approached the point of breakdown even more. His story was uncanny to say the least, and then he’d mentioned someone, Reah… not that Kate was surprised, it seemed everyone knew everybody else in L.A.
“His life, yes, but not his soul,” L’Than said to Kate. “That I am still working on.”
“She can’t hear you,” Nikolai said, shaking his head. He met Kate’s eyes, saw her compassion and concern there. “My life, she says, my life is all she saved, still working on the soul… but she doesn’t understand. We had to kill him, had to. Gone, need her gone, out of my mind,” he said, breaking down into tears. “I, I can’t go on like this… she’s driving me mad.”
Kate hesitated slightly before moving to comfort the man. That word "Xangyarj" repeated loudly in her head. She had heard a little of the ancient demonic race, their entirely pacifist attitude towards life and the universe mirrored almost perfectly those beliefs held by her own fellow wiccans and had been core to her studies in Ethics within the Coven.
She pulled away and handed him a box of tissues to wipe his face. “I’ll help you Nikolai, any way that I can. I have heard something of the Xangyarj and their beliefs, though I have to admit I know little of their actual powers and physiology.”
Kate paused, watching the man as he dried his eyes, looking somewhat sheepish for his outburst. She considered him carefully before continuing, from what she could gather from his sporadic explanation this Xangyarj, L’Than had somehow managed to possess him. Kate knew first hand from her experiences with Janus, how it felt to have another person's essence inhabiting your mind and how invasive that felt. Still, unlike Janus, Kate had never heard the Xangyarj to be a violent or malevolent species... part of Kate couldn't help but wonder why L'Than had chosen to merge her spirit with Nikolai of all people.
"I am predominantly a healer Nikolai, a healer and a psychic. If you're willing I might be able to engage with L'Than directly and persuade her to leave you."
Nikolai was in the process of nodding fervently before L'Than began speaking. "I would be willing to speak with her as well. If you are to be helped, we must work together."
He could not help but laugh. "She wants to talk to you," he said, shaking his head. "Can you believe it?"
Kate smiled lightly, rising from the sofa and kneeling on the floor, gesturing for Nikolai to sit opposite her. “Try to relax,” she said with a smile, “this shouldn’t be too uncomfortable so long as you don’t try to resist me.”
"I won't," Nikolai said, sitting down and breathing easily. L'Than was already in the room, at least the one he could see. As he sat Kate took his hands in hers, she encouraged him to relax, and he felt... something begin to push at his mind. He didn't know how long passed from the time she began chanting but at one point he found himself standing outside of his body. Kate seemed to be outside of hers as well... and there was L'Than, standing there with them.
"Blessed Be, wise councillor," said L'Than, making a symbol of greeting. "I regret to say that I cannot leave. It is a method of survival with us, that our psyche at the time of physical death transfers and merges with that of another individual. Had I known Nikolai was ignorant of this, I would never have asked him."
"I understand something of your philosophy," spoke Kate steadily, she stole a glance at Nikolai before returning her focus to L'Than. "So why did you choose this particular human to merge with?"
"Because I had not finished treating him," she said simply. "His body was mended, but his soul... there is a darkness about him. Grief, revenge, cold blooded..."
Nikolai shook his head slowly. "Great. There she goes again."
L'Than glanced at Nikolai before returning her attention to Kate. "A man named Lavrenti Sabarov sent his men to kill Nikolai, and I was mortally wounded. I hoped that in my last act, I could do something to ease Nikolai's soul after causing and seeing so much death."
Kate looked at Nikolai again; this time his soul was laid open for her and she could see just a glimpse of what L'Than was hinting at. The death, the cold-blooded murder... Nikolai the assassin, the hired killer. She suppressed a shudder; yes she remembered now, that faint feeling of familiarity when she had first seen him. And that name, Lavrenti Sabarov, the hitman, Damen Kirk… it all came flooding back. But more than that, she remembered where she had heard his name before too, Nikolai Makarov. At the memorial service for Sorrow and Victor, Tash had clearly mentioned a friend, someone who had been murdered. And yes, Reah too, she had also expressed words of mourning for Dearest Nikolai. Kate wasn’t exactly sure what was going on but Nikolai looked pretty good for a dead guy.
"You'll drive him mad before you 'heal' the wound in his soul," Kate said firmly. Despite L'Than's good intentions she was in no doubt of that fact. Nikolai was already close to a complete mental breakdown and he had a long way to go before he achieved redemption.
L'Than lowered her head in sadness. "As I am unfortunately aware. Had he come to you sooner, my mind could have been sent somewhere else. As it is, I fear you cannot expel me without driving him to madness. His only hope is to accept the merging."
Glancing at Nikolai, Kate could tell that was something he wasn't going to do without a fight, only he didn't appear to have the strength to fight any more. Kate thought for a moment - she could probably aid the merging process but would that be something Nikolai would allow to happen?
"Thank you for your honesty L'Than," Kate said cordially before turning to the 'spirit' of Nikolai. "I think we need to return back now. You'll have some decisions to make."
She reached out for his hand, their transparent fingers barely touching before they melted into nothing. Kate took a deep breath as her non-corporeal essence merged back with her mortal body. She opened her eyes and moved over to help Nikolai as he struggled to accept both his own and L'Than's spirits back into his mind.
Nikolai tried to steady himself as best he could. L'Than was saying exactly the same thing as before... and Kate seemed to believe her. She was a psychic though, so she should know if the Xangyarj was lying. "I really don't have much choice, do I?" he asked softly. Before Kate could answer, he nodded in surrender, despite the fear that he felt. What would happen if their minds became one? "Can you help with the merging?"
Kate nodded, "I think that I might. I'm not going to lie to you Nikolai, it won't be instant. It could take a while to complete the merge successfully. But I do think this is the best course of action."
Nikolai considered carefully for several minutes before he finally answered. "All right. Just tell me what I need to do."
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
***December 13th, 2006 - Malibu Beach, California - Noon***
“Mama, I cannot find something blue to wear!” Gwen shouted in Romani as she wandered around the halls of the house in her gown. Adriana followed her in her bridesmaid's dress. She was having a difficult time catching up with Gwen, and the fact that Drea was in heels wasn’t helping.
Drea stopped in her tracks and gasped for air. She bent down and took off her shoes. *Why didn’t I think of this in the first place?* Gwen’s complaints grew softer and softer, which signaled Adriana to start running. In a matter of seconds, she finally caught Gwen. The bride-to-be was out of breath and didn’t glow like most brides should.
“Where is my maid of honor?” she asked, worried.
Adriana began fixing her up while replying in Romani, “Flirting with one of the groom’s men, but that’s not important right now. What you need to concentrate on is looking pretty for Sergei and not tripping when walking down the aisle, okay?”
Concern wrapped around Gwen’s face. “Tripping down ze aisle...” she muttered in broken English.
Drea shook her a little and drove into her, “No time for that! You’re letting your accent slip! And I also found you this,” Adriana revealed a small, sapphire incrusted cross. Gwen gasped.
Drea continued, “This covers the ‘blue’ part of that nice little saying. Now, let’s get this on you.” Drea led Gwen into a nearby room and stood the bride in front of a large mirror. Gwen was taken aback.
It was the first time in quite a while that she was able to let the gown’s beauty sink in to her. It was a pure white dress which was in the shape of an hourglass, the classic Victorian era dress. The bottom came out like a bell, while the top’s shoulders were made to wrap around Gwen. Her veil was held in place by a diamond decorated tiara, which she was borrowing from a close friend of her father’s. The outfit was completed when Adriana put on the small cross.
“There. My God, Elizabeth Taylor would drop dead if she saw you now,” Drea commented as she observed Gwen.
The now blushing bride began to breathe heavily and replied, “I want to cry.” Adriana hushed her.
“No you don’t, no you don’t. Do you wanna look like a raccoon when walking down the aisle? No, of course you don’t. Now, I’m gonna find that maid of honor, so just wait here, okay?” she told Gwen and ran off.
Drea began banging on every door in the house. After about ten minutes, she found the maid of honor and dragged the poor girl to Gwen’s room. Adriana then left the room in search of her grandmother.
It didn’t take her long to find her púridaia. She could hear her yelling all through the house at Gwen’s mother, Nicolette. Drea stepped in between the two. Adriana faced her grandmother and calmly told her in Romani, “Grandmother, do not stand here arguing with Mrs. Saracens. Not only might Sergei need you, but I believe that the rest of the wedding party might need your guidance.”
Immediately, Yolanda stopped ranting. “You are right, my dear. That poor boy needs my help. Quick, tell Sergei not to go anywhere until I tell him otherwise! Go find Alesander and tell him to buy a bottle of fine wine for the reception...” she began giving instructions.
About fifteen minutes later everything was finally ready. Yolanda, being as old as she was, had worn herself out in a matter of minutes. Nicolette’s rage had turned to tears, as she was already upset that her only child was getting married. Lorraine, who had been as quiet as a mouse during the whole proceeding, was now controlling her sobs quietly.
Adriana stood in the line of bridesmaids, waiting patiently for the ceremony to begin. She looked back where Gwen stood. There she stood, arm in arm with her father. Drea gave her a little smile. She turned back and looked ahead.
A solo violinist began playing an old Romani love song. This cued the bridesmaids to begin walking. Adriana held her small bouquet that consisted of light blue and cream colored flowers tightly as she saw her cousin. She could tell that he was nervous, just by his eyes.
Finally they reached the altar. Adriana smiled as she saw the little flower girl walk down the aisle, happily throwing petals in the air. As she neared the altar, she stopped. The young girl looked at the audience with teary eyes and announced in Romani, “No more flowers.”
Just as she was about to cry, Enzo stood up and walked over to the girl and brought her near the bride’s maids as audience gave out “awws” and a few chuckles. He then quickly returned to his seat.
Everyone then turned their heads to see Christophe, arm in arm with Gwen, who was hidden beneath her veil. Awws of amazement came from some, while others took pictures. As he lead her closer to the altar, Nicolette’s sobs became louder.
At last they reached the altar. Sergei outstretched his arm. Christophe slowly placed Gwen’s arm on her nervous groom’s and, shaking, sat down. Sergei and Gwen then faced the priest and stood there, smiling.
Adriana smiled at the happy couple. *They’re doing it. They’re actually doing it.*
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
***December 13th, 2006 - Malibu Beach, California - Night***
The stars shone brightly in the dark blue sky. It had been months since Adriana had seen them. Now they had made Sergei and Gwen’s wedding reception beautiful. Drea stood outside the party’s boundaries to observe the ocean view. It was a rather beautiful night for December, making the bridesmaid dresses all the more comfortable.
The day was peaceful, despite the fact that the whole area was populated with demons. Although walking around in light blue high heels on a sandy beach was difficult, Drea managed. Her baby blue dress was ultra thin for the winter, which bothered Adriana. *I’m gonna get Gwen one of these days.* She hugged herself a little, trying to generate some heat.
James strolled along the beach, kicking up stones as he went. Hunting had become a bore in the last forty years. He hunted prey that actually deserved death; gang bangers, rapists, and murderers. He had found that such a romantic spot as the beach was the perfect place for such scum. The Mexicans, blacks, and gang bangers stayed clear of him. He had been in the city long enough to get a name for himself amoung the dregs of society.
Adriana walked farther from the reception. It really didn’t matter to her. Romani wedding receptions were notoriously long, lasting about three days. The sound of lively violins, guitars, and drums filled the air. Random young couples also left to the outskirts of the party to have a quick make-out session. Drea prayed that they knew to fix themselves up before returning to their parents. Otherwise, they would most likely flip out. Adriana knew from experience, thanks to Scott Talmadge.
She thought of how funny it was to see dressed up people walking the shores that used to locate the horrid show, Baywatch. Sand was leaking into her high heels. Adriana sighed and sat on the ground and began taking them off.
As James walked along the beach further, he saw her sitting on the ground, taking off her shoes. James quickly moved up behind her to confirm who she was. *I knew it,* he thought to himself, *I knew it was her.*
James spoke softly, "Adriana?"
Her head wiped round with the look of fear in her eyes. "You! " she choked.
There he stood. James, from the bar. The vampire. She wanted to scream for her family, for her people, to help her. But it was Sergei’s special day. Besides, if James wanted to kill her he would have done it by now. Drea knew first hand. So, instead, of leaping from where she was, only to be caught by him, Adriana remained in the same spot. She began breathing deeply and began to shake a bit. He was, after all, a vampire. They had no remorse for anything. That was what her uncle told her. All Adriana could do was wait.
James smiled at her and sat down beside her. "This some sort of wedding... I haven’t to been to a nice wedding in 400 years."
She smiled. “Yeah. It’s my cousin’s. He’s so happy about it. One of the few happy moments in his life, I guess,” Adriana explained. James eyed her curiously. Drea looked at the ocean.
“We... didn’t have many of those when we were growing up. But my uncle and aunt tried making it better,” she continued. The sand ran through her toes as she went silent.
James gave her a solemn nod and looked up as he saw two of the guests walking by speaking some European dialect. James looked at Adriana and smiled, “You’re a gypsy, aren’t you?"
Adriana looked at the sand and sighed. “People don’t take kindly to the Romani. I learned that the hard way,” she quietly explained to him. Drea turned to him and held out her arm.
“Look here,” she showed him, “This I got when I was in the third grade. Rocks. The worst. They got Sergei and me when we were playing on the playground.”
James nodded to her. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Your race weren’t that much liked back in my era as well." James gave a slight smile. He quickly took off his jacket and neatly folded it and lay it down beside Adriana. He slowly turned to show his right shoulder blade and he pointed to a large scar.
"I’ve had that since I was twenty. When you are a second class citizen in your own country, you are nothing but cattle to the liars and English lords." James gave a half grin, "I got about a million more of these from battles all over the world from when I was human."
“That’s horrible,” Adriana said, concern in her voice. She tried to make out what could have caused the scar. Drea had received so many scars as a child she was now able to identify what caused them. But this... this was a mystery to her.
“What made that scar? It looks pretty nasty,” she asked. Adriana thought it over for a second and added, “Must have hurt pretty badly, too.”
James grained, "Yeah, it was. I think it from a French fixed bayonet. He nearly got me in the heart if I remember correctly. I just managed to move out of the way in time." James pulled off his vest to show her his full chest. It was covered in scars and a large Celtic tattoo on his right bicep.
Each scar looked nastier then the other. Then her eyes dropped upon a scar as wide as her palm. "What caused that?" spoke Adriana, pointing to the one across his gut.
James looked at her and his face dropped. "That’s... that is the only one I can’t account for... For as long as I can remember, I’ve had it. Even when I was an officer... I can’t remember my childhood. My memory begins in a battle with some French troops." James shook his head. He looked at his shirt and pulled it over his head.
Adriana cringed at the sight of the scar. She had only seen that type of scar once before. Sergei received one when he was sixteen years old from a classmate of his. The boy had a knife and attacked him when Sergei was walked her home from school. But still, it was nothing compared with James’.
“I have this one mark, on my waist,” she motioned where her dress covered, “You can’t see it, but its there. It’s from a belt...” Adriana trailed off. After a few seconds, she continued, “From my aunt’s father. He... he didn’t like us all that much.” Drea held the permanent bruise. One would think that bruises like hers would go away in a couple of weeks. Adriana’s had lasted nearly twenty years.
Adriana lay back and looked up at the stars. "So beautiful." James lay back with her and spoke. "There is always one in the family... the thing is you learn not to be afraid any more." He gave a short chuckle, "Yeah, I know; easier said that done."
She shook her head and smiled at him. “You’re right. It finally did. Back in what I believed to be... 1989? Yeah, then. The Berlin Wall fell. It marked when I was finally able to meet my parents. I never met them before. I never had to see him again.” Adriana turned to James and went on, “Haven’t seen him in about fifteen years. The bullying stopped when I was a sophomore in high school. Of course, that’s went boys became friendly.” Drea chuckled.
James burst into laughter. "Ah, teenage boys. I got a kid myself... well not my kid. More of an adopted kid. I found him on the streets when he was thirteen and I've looked after him ever since. I swear to God, he’s so weird. He wears $600 suits to school! And when he is in school, he doesn’t go for high school girls. You know, two weeks ago I found him in bed with a 28 year old woman? To say she was shocked when she found out that he was seventeen is the understatement of the century!"
James shook his head. "Fuck listening to me talking, pet. I sound like one of those guys who only talk about their kids." James smirked, "So why have you come to L.A.? It’s not exactly a nice town."
Adriana gazed back at the stars and sighed a little. “You won’t believe me if I told you,” she commented. James raised his eyebrow at her. Drea sighed again and continued, “Or maybe you will. It has to do with a vampire...”
James' tone became mournful and quiet, "It always does."
His tone would have worried her, if the thought of Angel hadn’t run through her head. She cleared her throat, “His name is Angelus. My people cursed him over 200 years ago. We gave him the ultimate punishment; his soul. I mean, he deserved it. He killed the future visionary of the clan. Not to mention all the other souls he destroyed. It’s my duty to watch over him. But, alas, no such luck.”
Adriana quieted down and added, “He killed Sergei’s mother eight years ago.”
James looked baffled. "I thought Angelus went all broody and did the whole Dark Knight thing and saved people. Why did he..?" James realized his questions where getting personal. "Sorry , I know what it's like to lose someone close to you."
Adriana shook her head. “She wasn’t that close. Angelus turned back to his old self about eight years back when the curse was broken. There he killed my great Uncle Enyos and my Aunt Janna. Some amateur witch turned him back, though,” she explained.
Drea sat up and turned to him. “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like L.A.? Surely you could be living somewhere else,” she asked him curiously, and her infamous brown eyes began to widen.
James sat up straight and smiled. "Well, I did live in Milwaukee for a very long time but I had to leave there. Had minor disagreements with a few witches. A lot of death involved, so I moved to New York. That’s where I met Vincent, my son. Then I heard a friend was killed so I picked up and moved down here." James smirked, "And to be honest it hasn’t been that great. The sun’s up way too much, for one.
“And any time I try and have a drink at Bob’s bar, I always end up getting into a fight. I swear to God I must have paid Bob two grand in damages. How is the job going by the way?"
Adriana stuck her tongue to the side of her mouth. “Pretty good, pretty good, except when asking for a schedule change or some time off. He’s a bit ‘nasty’ when it comes to that,” she said and chuckled.
“I have classes in the daytime, so it's become a bit of a problem,” Drea continued. She looked at him and smiled. “I wanna become a teacher, just like my aunt.”
James nodded. “Ah, what do you want to teach, darling?"
She smiled and quipped, “Curiosity killed the cat.”
James laughed. "But the truth brought it back. Nah, but it's cool. I wouldn’t want a vampire know what I do as a profession either. Although I am the vampire but that’s a different matter all together." James looked at Adriana and cocked his head. "Yours eyes are shimmering with the stars..." James looked at the ground and shook his head "That is such a line, isn’t it?"
Adriana sat Indian style towards him and replied, “Sounds a bit Jane Austen like.” She continued to smile. “Did you ever meet her? Jane? If I guess right, you were around when she was.”
James laughed at the idea. "Nah. Would have been fun to talk to her but the most famous person I have ever met was the King of England. When I was human, he was presenting my entire squad with medals for doing a great job in murder."
James gave a half grin. "Funny, isn’t it? Vampires are inhuman monsters because they need to feed on blood to survive but humans get paid to kill each other. Hell, I made a career from it when I was mortal." James looked at Adriana's expression. "Sorry, I get a little carried away at times."
“There is nothing wrong with having deep thoughts. You’re a lot more interesting than the boys I’ve dated. The most they’ve ever thought about was what I was wearing under my skirt,” Drea explained and couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of her exs.
James smirked. "Such is the way of all boys. It just took me about 200 years to grow up... longer than most guys but I’m not getting any older, am I now, pet?" James gave a wink.
She gave a smile she hadn’t done since she was sixteen. “Side effect of immortality, I guess. ‘Slow in puberty’,” Adriana commented. She looked back at the party. “I don’t think some of the older men grew out of that stage. So no worries.”
James cocked his head. "I’ll probably get slapped for asking this, but how old are you anyway? You don’t look any older than your early twenties."
Drea continued smiling. “Twenty-six, thanks. But I don’t feel a day over thirty,” she kidded with him about the last part. Adriana figured it was safe to say her real age, since, after all, he was a vampire. Age wasn’t really important to him.
James looked up into the stars, "Yeah, you look good for an old lady." James gave his signature grin. "So, you a witch or something? ‘Cause a lot of gypsies I’ve encountered are big with their mojo."
Her smiled faded a bit. “Well, I’m still learning. Not very good though... at all.” She looked into James’ eyes. “In the words of Sergei, I ‘suck at magic’. That’s okay. I’m still young. My grandmother? Don’t piss her off. She’s big into the dark arts.”
James nodded. "There’s always one. My friend is big into them as well. I once saw him turn a guy into a chicken... No joke. Just… poof. Chicken. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but that’s some scary shit. Yeah, sure. The whole ‘shooting a fire ball’ sounds bad ass but turning a guy into a chicken - that’s just evil."
Adriana giggled. “I didn’t know that chickens were evil. Weird, but not evil. Spiders - that’s evil,” she said, correcting him.
James smirked. "No, spiders are merely misunderstood. They are good luck after all. Now bunnies..." James' eyes went narrow, "Bunnies are evil."
Adriana began laughing. “If you truly believe that in your heart, then I will accept that. But I’ve always liked them.” After a few minutes of silence, Drea asked out of the blue, “Were you ever in love?”
James flinched at the question. "Once... that I can remember. She was everything I wanted. Too bad she never returned the sentiment." James looked into her doe-like eyes and moved closer to her until he was an inch from her face. He could feel her warm breath on his cold skin. "What about you, poppet? Have you ever been in love?"
Adriana moved her eyes to the ground. “I think I was. He was my high school sweetheart, you could say. Really thought I was gonna marry him. That was, until I found out he cheated on me,” Drea told him. She felt her eyes water.
James never knew how to respond to situations like this. James slowly raised his hand and stroked her cheek. "Sometimes people do dumb things, and what he did was very dumb to lose a girl like you." James wiped the tears from her eyes with his hand.
Drea slowly grasped his hand and looked at him. “Don’t say that, just to make me feel better. Boys like ‘certain things’ and I never gave him that ‘certain thing’. I don’t regret not doing that, though.”
James glared at her. "Well I might be an old-timey kind of guy but those ‘certain things’ are for people you love. Without love it means nothing." James thought to himself, *You are such a poof. You know that, don’t you?*
Adriana smiled her teenage smile again. “The last time I heard that was in a book. But most books are fictional. I do it for the honor of my people. None of my boyfriends understood that.”
James grinned. "It's good you are proud of your heritage and your traditions, but like everything, with time traditions change. Traditions can get you into some deep shit. Trust me on this." James looked around and saw some guests coming towards them. "Who’s that coming?"
Adriana looked where James was looking. She turned back to him and smiled. “Those are the hormonally driven teenagers of my clan and my, now, cousins-in-law. That includes my little sister, Polina. They won’t care about us. As long as they have a place to ‘do what they want to do’. But Polina can take care of herself.” Drea just continued to stare in his eyes.
Adriana then moved her eyes away from him and back onto the beach. “Sorry about the whole ‘trying to spray you with holy water’ thing. I really didn’t know what to expect.”
James shifted his weight to his other side and smiled, "Ah, it’s no problem. I would probably do it myself."
Drea looked back at him and asked, “What brings you to the beach? Surely there are other places you could be right now. Parties, at home with that kid of yours, being with potential girlfriends...” She stopped at the last part. *I can’t believe you just said that, you flake!*
James shrugged. "As great as hanging with my kid sounds, he’d rather not be with dear ol’ undead daddy at night. He goes to clubs. I found out that he was hanging out with some Latina girls. I can’t say I’m too happy about that. And potential girlfriends don’t come along to often when you can only go out at night."
“No such luck with boys either. Bob’s isn’t exactly the number one romantic spot in the world,” Adriana commented. She swerved her finger around in the sand. “Did you ever meet Angelus?” Drea questioned him, her eyes widening again.
James gave a fake grin. "I was wondering when you where going to ask that. Yeah, I met him twice. Once when he was Angelus and another when he was Angel. He was young in vampire standards. He was almost half my age... but God he could fight like a fiend! I nearly got him. A railroad spike right into his ribs. Nearly staked him.
“Then that English twat, Spike, fucked me over the back of the head with a sledge hammer. He didn’t knock me out but I decided it was time to depart when Darla and that nut job, Dru, appeared."
James shifted his weight again. “Why? Have you ever met him?"
“No, can’t say that I have,” she commented. Her uncle’s tale of Angelus’ cursing rushed back to her head. “Did you ever hear about the murder of the gypsy girl before I told you?” Drea asked him, eyeing him with interest.
James gave a solemn nod. "Yeah, I heard he fucked with a band of gypsies and that they cursed him with a soul. News travels fast in the underworld. When I met him with a soul he seemed so... ashamed of the things he had done when he was Angelus. Cursed, even." James shrugged. "But then again, who wouldn’t be? That’s the thing about humans. You can kill a man and feel guilty about it or not."
Adriana gave a little smirk. “That’s the idea. The next night, Darla and two other vampires massacred nearly the entire the clan. Few escaped. One of the girl’s sisters did. Her blood is the same that flows through mine.” She looked at James. “My aunt Janna tried to tell us that he changed. Buy my great uncle Enyos refused to believe it.
“Bob says Angelus went insane about a few years back. He’s near impossible to find. I’m thinking about telling my grandmother. Then I would have to leave L.A., which I guess, wouldn’t be so bad.”
James closed his eyes and took a deep fake inhale of breath. “It's not all bad. I mean the weather is nice, plenty of sun. Also, you could get your teacher degree from here. Only problem is your job. Bob’s Bar is such a freaking dive. You should try and work at one of those trendy night clubs."
Adriana shook her head quickly. “No, no. They’re not for me. I mean, neither is Bob’s, but at least none of the patrons mess with me. Or, more correctly, most of the patrons,” she explained and smiled.
James gave a half growl and a look of concern. "Why? Who’s been bothering you?"
Drea laughed and continued, “No, no! No one’s bothering me! I was joking around about you! Of course, it wasn’t all that bad until other people started getting involved.” After a moment of silence, she replied, “Why do you care so much?”
James gave a fake scowl. "Heh, I can’t care. I’m a vampire, remember? I’m just playing with my food... or that is the common belief?" James smiled. "The reason I care is because I was taught it was nice to be nice. Yeah, I know. Weird saying but I try to live with it the best I can."
Adriana nodded. “Yeah, that first statement sounds very familiar. Is it normal that my uncle’s voice is running through my head?”
James began to feel that he was being watched. "Yeah, it's hard to fight against an idea that you grew up with." James slowly raised his hand to Adriana and stroked her cheek. Slowly, he moved his face closer to hers and gave a short passionate kiss.
Drea was taken back. But in a good way. “That was a bit spontaneous. But I liked it,” she commented and smiled.
James gave his signature grin. "Well it wouldn’t be out of line to do it again." For the second time, James kissed her softly but passionately on the lips. James fell back into the sand with Drea laying on him.
Adriana ran her hand through his short, brown hair. A sudden rush of joy ran through her, one she hadn’t felt in years. She continued to kiss James as she wrapped her other arm around his neck.
From a distance, she heard someone shout, “Adriana! Adriana!” Drea broke the kiss and looked up. Sergei stood in the distance, a bottle of wine in hand.
“Adriana Lautari, if you don’t get your ass here now and drink some of this damn ‘good luck’ wine, Enzo’s gonna be mighty pissed!”
Adriana sighed and sat up. She smiled at James and said, “Everyone must be really drunk, since Sergei’s been able to escape them.” Drea bent back down and kissed James softly.
She stood up, grabbed her shoes, and began walking away. Adriana turned around and commented, “Bye, James. Nice seeing you again.” Drea gave a wide smile and walked toward her cousin.
James waved as Adriana walked off and thought to himself, *Life is good. Now, for food.* As Adriana walked off, he turned to see several teenagers walking by, wearing gang colours. At once, a single thought rang though James' mind. *Lunch.*
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday, 6th December, 2006
The Order of Valor HQ, South Pasadena
11:23pm
Orin Trask stood silently in the living room of The Order of Valor’s HQ. He glanced around the room, his nerves beginning to show. For some reason he’d always been intimidated by their illustrious leader and he’d never before had such a personal meeting with such a high ranking officer. Just the thought of that seemed to make all his insecurities emerge.
Suddenly Alaric appeared carrying a tea tray which he set down on the coffee table before gesturing for Orin to sit. “Thank you for joining me, Mr Trask,” he said cordially as he poured hot tea out into two fine china cups. “Milk?”
Orin looked up, confused. “Um, er, yes… thank you, Sir.”
Alaric smiled and handed the cup to Orin. “Zentara has told me good things about you, Mr Trask. She has every confidence in your abilities.”
“Yes Sir, thank you, it-” Orin placed his cup back down on the table so that he could shake hands with Alaric, “-it’s been a great honour for me, to... to be chosen for such a task, really, I appreciate your faith in me Sir, and Mistress Zentara. I won’t let you down.”
“No, well,” Alaric sat back in his leather armchair, cup of tea poised in his hand, “see to it that you don’t. This is a very sensitive project, and an important time for The Order. We can’t afford any mistakes.”
Orin smiled but it was awkward, slightly nervous. Alaric made him nervous. “I-I understand Sir. I-I won’t let you down, I promise.” He looked down into his teacup, silently cursing himself for his ineptitude.
Alaric nodded in a friendly manner, sipping his tea, his pinky finger raised ever so slightly. “I have some dealings with this Wiccham woman myself; not directly you understand, just a minor altercation involving her old coven elder-”
“Eldridge, Sir.” Orin looked uncomfortable as Alaric focused his steely eyes on him, “She, um, married about five months ago to a man who used to work for the Majestic agency. He resigned shortly after meeting the woman… now he works for the LAPD, a detective I believe with the homicide department. They also have a daughter, and, the-the Eldridge woman was recently reunited with her estranged father…”
“Well, well,” said Alaric, placing his cup back down on the table, a proud smile spreading across his face. “You’ve been doing your homework, I’m impressed. This bodes well for what I’m about to request of you. I know that you are instructed to report directly to the Ministry with your findings but I want you to come to me first.”
Alaric rose from his chair and walked over to the window. He pulled the curtain back slightly, peering out into the darkened street. “Also, I’d like you to keep me informed of any meetings you may have with the two agents. I don’t care how insignificant it may seem, if Carmichael so much as blows his nose I want to know about it.”
Orin shuffled uneasily on his seat. “Of course Sir.”
“Like I said before, I know this Catherine… Eldridge woman. She’s a powerful witch, there’s no doubt about that - if The Ministry are interested in her I want to know why.”
“I know Sir, I have to admit I’m curious myself. But nothing I’ve seen so far…” Orin frowned, “She has power, real power, sort of raw… I don’t know. I recorded the results of the tests but the Ministry hasn’t provided me with anything by which to measure them. It makes it virtually impossible to know exactly what they’re looking for.”
Alaric stroked his chin in contemplation for a while before turning back to face his guest. “See what you can find out. I’ll await your next communication.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 15, 2006
Nikolai’s Apartment, Los Angeles
6:55pm
To say that Nikolai had been disturbed was a bit of an understatement. Over the past week and a half he had seen Kate several times while she worked on the ‘merging’ process. Slowly the waking images of L’Than retreated to his subconscious mind. There were some odd things that started coming up, as the day when he realised that he had to force himself to eat the steak.
It happened in the store.
One moment, everything was normal. The next, he was hit with a flood of emotions from everyone there – everything jumbled together in a mix: compassion, professionalism, worries, hopes. Riding home had proven fairly interesting, being hit with emotional feelings from anyone who got too close.
The result was it took him several hours to stumble home in a panic, arriving sometime in the afternoon or evening (he wasn’t sure which) and making a panicked call to Kate, to ask her about it. She seemed the most logical person to talk to; he was afraid that something had happened in the process.
“No, I can’t get to your place,” he told her. “I-I can’t even leave the apartment without being overwhelmed.”
Trying to relax and steady himself he sat in the living room in silence, waiting for her to arrive. Wondering if she would be able to help him further, and if so, how he could possibly repay the kindness she had shown him.
As Kate ascended the stairs to Nikolai's third floor apartment she wondered about the desperate call she'd received from him. Over the past several days she'd spent quite a bit of time with him, completing the merge between his own spiritual essence and that of the Xangyarj L'Than.
Over those days she'd come to know Nikolai quite well, she thought. The intimate nature of their business transaction meant that she'd spent a great deal of her time probing through his mind, his thoughts and memories. She'd felt nothing so disturbing as when she'd heard a single word, G'rnatha. It was then that she knew he was one of the 'friends' Tash had talked about who'd been spirited away to Victor's home dimension all those months ago in August.
But it was also during that time that Kate had grown to think of Nikolai as her own friend; the friendship he shared with Tash seemed so strong that she couldn't doubt her judgement. Despite his somewhat questionable past Nikolai was a reformed man, even if it had occurred against his will.
Kate paused momentarily outside the door to his apartment before knocking.
When the knocking at the door came, it took Nikolai several minutes to begin to move. He found himself afraid of what he would feel, and walking across the living room to the small hall and door left him with a sense of dread. He could feel a swirl of emotion vaguely when he reached the door. Through the peephole he could tell that it was Kate outside, and breathed a small sigh of relief.
“Tha-thank you,” he stammered out, opening the door. Which was all he could get out before grabbing his head as the flood of emotion tried to overwhelm him, causing him to bend over. Curiosity and concern, the concern growing greater when he bent over. He thought she tried to say something, but he couldn’t tell.
After the initial shock passed, he straightened back up to invite her inside. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, quickly shutting the door when she entered. “Too much, that’s why – why I don’t leave…”
Kate quickly entered the apartment, rushing to Nikolai's side to help him to somewhere he could hopefully be more comfortable. While Nikolai continued to grasp his head in pain, Kate concentrated on trying to block her emotions so as not to cause him any undue discomfort. As she guided him towards a rich leather sofa and sat him down she was satisfied at least that he wouldn't pick up too many of her errant emotions.
As Nikolai struggled to recover Kate sat beside him, stroking his forehead soothingly. She was reminded of a time in her childhood where she had been in a very similar situation. Inundated with the thoughts in other people's heads that she could hear, if it hadn't been for the Coven it would surely have drove her mad.
It felt like a pressure had reduced in his head as he sat there with Kate. At last her emotions subsided to a more reasonable level. Her emotions were still there, but they were now much quieter. If he focused, he could at least ignore them. “Thank you. It’s been like this since I was at the store… I, I can feel the emotions of other people. Experience them.” Nikolai looked into Kate’s face, still feeling them. “And now you’re worrying more, I’m sorry.”
Kate lay a comforting hand atop of his. "Don't worry Kolya, really, I've been through similar circumstances myself. It might take some time, and I can't promise that this won't be a difficult transitional period for you, but it won't always be so hard. You will get through this."
Nikolai sighed. Though he was grateful for the reassurance, he knew she was certainly right that it would be difficult. Which was when he remembered that she was a psychic, could probably read minds even. “How did you manage? Did you find some way to shut it off?”
Kate nodded her head, "Yes I did, at first. You can learn to block out the thoughts or in your case the feelings but that is such a waste of a gift. The best way is to learn how to control your powers."
“Control? How?” He looked at her in confusion, but something in the back of his mind seemed to be nudging him in this direction. Control. That was the only option to be taken. “Can you teach me?” he asked nervously, afraid of what that could entail. Though more than a bit curious as well.
"I think so, I mean yes. I'll do my best, Kolya." Kate offered a reassuring smile, though inside she wasn't as sure of her abilities. *Maybe Jack can help,* she thought curiously; he had been so good at training her to use her telepathic abilities of late.
“No, no, please nobody else…” he stammered out nervously, feeling her doubt. “You, you have the ability Kate, you put my mind back together.” Though shouldn’t she know her own powers? If he was completely and utterly honest with her, he was very afraid. Nikolai knew that he was in no position to defend himself, and didn’t want anyone who didn’t have to to see him like this.
Nikolai was unable to look at her, instead looking down at his shaking hands. Her worry, her doubts were trying to rub off on him but he couldn’t allow it. Had to let her know that she could help, give her confidence in her abilities.
Kate smiled again, this time it was gentle and kind, "Nikolai..." she placed a hand on the back of his head, allowing the palm to ever so slightly touch the side of his face. "Of course I'll help you, I promised didn't I?" At these words Nikolai raised his head to face her.
“But I was taught by some of the best telepaths in the world, I just thought you might benefit more from somebody with more experience in this than I."
“There are times when the compassionate can do more than the most experienced to help.” Nikolai blinked once in confusion. Where the hell had that come from? He could recognise the idea as one that had clearly occurred to him, one that he said… but why? The fear was now evident in his voice.
“Wha-wha-what’s happening to me, Katya? Vat am I becoming?”
"It's nothing to be afraid of," said Kate, squeezing Nikolai's hand in her own, "though you may not hear L'Than as a seperate entity anymore, she IS still a part of you. Her thoughts, her experiences, her morals still guide you in the same way that your own do." Kate sighed, "As for helping you with your empathic abilities, if you're really against the idea of outside help then I'll do whatever I can. I suppose I could show you a few simple exercises that might help, just to start with."
“Spaseba,” Nikolai said, taking her hands in his. “How-how can I repay you?”
Kate laughed lightly at his question. "You don't have to repay me Kolya, you say such strange things. Some people don't require payment for a kindness, maybe you'll find that out someday."