***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
4th December 2006
Early hours of the morning, L.A.
CRASH!
The sounds of furniture breaking sliced through the silence of the witching hour. A house, on a street, nameless for all we know. It’s those inside who live, who fight, who feel, that we should watch. The crumpled remains of the chair lay in the corner, its legs twisted in agony telling the story of what happened here. The minuscule specks of blood on the floor had fallen from the woman’s hand, her fierce grip leaving an outside mark of the anger she felt inside. The bruises on her arms had not yet healed; they told her tale plainly for all to see.
“Get out, leave us!” The words seem to be a growl from her throat, a primal threat, a mother protecting her children, “Leave! Do you not see what you have done here!”
When all was quiet and the sharpest of ears listened, the sobs of the young, muffled by the quilts they hid in, could be heard. It was the shouts and screams from the floor below that drowned out the small cries of pain.
“I won’t have you near them, I swear I’ll kill you if you come near us again!” She threw the chair into the wall in a moment of pure blind rage. The tears stung her cheeks as they fell freely down her face. She ran to her children, leaving the wreckage behind.
The room mocked him with its silence. It seemed so big from his position on the floor. A slight movement of his leg and the bottle fell. The sharp sound of glass on wood echoed through his skull, as he clutched at it, trying to save it last few precious drops. Like a parched man he savoured those last remnants of bitter alcohol, that which kept his world unreal. He dreaded thoughts of reality, when he would have to look at his life. Could people cry for a man like him? No job, no life, and now no family, just memories of what he’d done and how he’d hurt the people he loved.
He clutched the wall, using it to help himself up. His legs needed no instructions for where they were going, they knew the way better than he did. Within minutes the bar came into sight. And soon he would be able to forget.
*****
He turned the corner, wandering aimlessly. He couldn’t go home - he had no home. Another alleyway, another forgotten place, it was where he deserved to rot. Images of angelic faces with cute dimples playing with toys danced to the front of his brain. He whistled a lullaby; it was too late at night for kids to be awake, he thought idly to himself. His tuned echoed off the brick walls as he stumbled his way through the dark back streets of L.A.
One minute he was walking, the next he couldn’t go forward. His eyes widened at the sight behind him. A look of panic took over his face as his body, slow and clumsy in its drunkenness, tried to move against the grip those arms held him in.
*****
The first hand grabbed her shoulder from behind and was quickly followed by another firmly covering her mouth. They pulled her out of sight of the main road into shadow. Another hand tore her scarf away, then her jumper. She still clutched tightly to her shopping bag as the freezing cold Chicago winter air hit her bare chest, only moments before two sets of fangs sank into her flesh.
She screamed silently into her attacker’s hand. Her teeth scraped at the skin of the palm and she froze, unable to move as she felt the trickles of blood fall into her mouth.
*****
Leigh’s eyes flew open, ending the memory as quickly as it had begun. She felt the rickety bus slow to a stop. She had arrived, the city of angels now surrounded her. A looming monster of a city, not a tree in sight and an odd smell in the air. The night sky glowed orange with unnatural light.
The people around her were moving, it was time for her to get off. She could smell the blood in the air, the pink bodies around her. She had to get out, it was time for her to feed.
She grabbed her rucksack and headed into the shadows.
*****
The house had appeared deserted from the outside. No lights, no noise, only the quietest sounds of chests rising. The front door had opened easily with a little bit of force. Her room hadn’t been touched; the teddy bears, the open text book... it was as if time had frozen, which of course for Leigh it had. She grabbed a bag and started filling it with clothes and money. It was then that she noticed the mirror… she held the bag up, watching it appear to float. She put her hand against it and smiled. She was a nobody now, she told herself.
She changed from the torn white dress she had been buried in into black clothes, pausing only for a second to watch the boy’s blood as it flowed through her veins. She covered as much as possible, not wanting the whole world to see the precious liquid that gave her life flowing through her pale skin… that was for her eyes only. It was time to start anew.
Her parent’s bedroom door creaked as she pushed it, just like it always did. She looked at the two sleeping figures who had first given her life. They were so familiar yet so distant from her now. She had no feelings, they were nothing to her any more, nothing but prey. “I’m not your little girl anymore… but you gave me life,” she whispered before bending down to bite her father’s neck.
They looked like they were sleeping, they looked at peace. Leigh glared for a moment at the bodies, she then turned on her heel and left the room, her house, her old life behind.
*****
She saw the man enter the back street. He was too drunk to fight back, Leigh was sure of that; she could smell the alcohol on him from here. She needed him weak, her journey had been trying. She had spent too long on that coach. She hadn’t felt it then but she did now - it had drained her. She could have killed them all, she realised, but she didn’t want any attention it would have drawn to her.
She watched him stumble, she saw the pain that was so evident in his eyes and wondered what that felt like. After a while her hunger had set in and the time was ready or so said the beast within.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. Her face changed as she grabbed the man’s neck, holding it firmly but not too tight - she didn’t want to break it. She looked at him once more, committing to memory the expression on his face, before she killed him.
She let his body fall, hearing a crunch as his head hit the ground. She wiped her mouth and set off to find a place to sleep. A more permanent place would have to wait until tomorrow, dawn was nearing.
As she wandered the darkest street of L.A. she barely noticed the eyes that watched her, but notice them she did. It surprised her to find more of her own kind so quickly. It had never happened that fast before.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
November 23, 2006 – Thanksgiving.
Salvation Army Annual Turkey Dinner
Facer lined up behind the derelicts waiting in the line for Thanksgiving turkey. It wasn't that he really needed to eat here it was just that he hated to sit home alone and watch TV. The faces of the ad people and the politicians and the actors all told him of the lies they were spreading to the public. It was depressing. He’d have dumped the TV into the aqueduct long ago if he didn’t like to watch cartoons.
Here, among the homeless, there were no lies except those they told themselves to keep sane. “Everything will be better next year.” “As soon as my check comes in I’ll get clean.” “She will take me back, I know she will.” “It's not my fault…”
It was more entertaining than the Macy’s Day Parade.
Facer saw a familiar face. It was one he had only encountered a few times in the past. There were no lies there. Here was only harsh, unfiltered truth. “Remorse, you old dog. I have not seen you since New York!”
Redmond Morse waved a hand to his old friend Facer, “Come and sit down, Sathawick. Tell me about your trip.”
Facer knew this from many years of being Redmond’s friend. He didn’t distinguish from past, present, or future. “I haven’t planned one, Redmond. I guess I will be. Where am I going?”
Redmond frowned, he hated when the visions overrode him just having a conversation. “Sorry Sathawick, I see a long journey that is dangerous. Not for you personally, but what you find will both ruin and destroy someone’s life.”
Sathawick poked at the turkey and stuffing on his plate, “Happy fucking Thanksgiving.”
Redmond pushed a slice of apple pie with a puddle of mostly melted ice cream next to it towards his friend, “Sorry, Facer, it’s what I see.”
The prophet and the seer ate in silence until Redmond tapped Sathawick’s hand. When Sathawick finished swallowing his bite he looked where Redmond was pointing. A muscular man, too clean to be among the homeless and too handsome to be down-on-his-luck, had wandered into the shelter.
Sathawick and Redmond both stood in reverence.
*Angel,* thought Sathawick. *Messenger,* was on Redmond’s mind.
The man strode towards them and gently placed a hand on each man’s shoulder. “Sit down, guys, I’m out of that business now. I came to volunteer because I am feeling kind of down.”
Oz started to turn away from the two perceptives when Redmond pulled him back, “Sit down, Messenger, you need to be here with us.”
Oz sat and introduced himself to the two men. It had happened before among the homeless, there were some of them who could see who he really was. Seers, prophets, and perceptives abounded among the displaced of society. It had always been that way. It was rare to find two of them together, however. Inwardly, Oz was pleased. He had always enjoyed the company of seers and prophets when he was a messenger. They were good company.
Facer listened to Redmond talk to the angel. He had never met one before, although he knew of their existence from all of the artefacts of their existence he had uncovered in his quest for knowledge. Angels weren’t particularly secretive about their existence. Proof could be found. They also weren’t always playing with a full deck. Sathawick shuddered at the stories he had heard in London of the Angel Islington from his friend the marquis de Carabas.
Redmond, for his part, had become a seer after seeing and hearing an angel. They always appeared as bright lights that outshone everything around him. Many times, angels delivered his visions. He listened to the sketchy background that Oz provided.
Redmond, of course, saw all of the details of Oz’s life laid before him and had he had tear ducts left he would have wept at the love this man had lost… twice. The love of God and the love of his wife. He wept tearlessly, not for the loss, but for the sadness of the angel who could not see past his grief to the love that was still there.
Once the sad stories were out of the way, Redmond felt a need to pass along the message he knew was for this man: “Five days ago I heard a voice come to me on the wind. It cried ‘Mariah’. You know, like the song:
But then one day I left my girl I left her far behind me
“But this voice was not a melody. It was a curse. It howled like a banshee and made my skin goosebump all over. Oz, I hear voices every day, and this one wasn’t from the usual sources. Something out there is tapping into ‘divine’ channels and they aren’t all there.”And now I’m lost
So goldern lost
Not even God can find me
And I’m a lost and lonely man
Without a star to guide me
Mariah blow my love to me
I need my girl beside me
Mariah
Mariah
Blow my love to me
Facer started to choke on the bite of green beans he had shoveled into his mouth. He held up a hand until he could talk… sort of. “Dude, you are telling me that someone has tapped into the logos? Bullshit, [cough] that ain’t been done since Abbott Graves contained the Mad Monk [sip of water] Reginald back in the 12th Century. Even then it was bad business. Death, destruction, all sorts of ugliness was in the air that day.”
Oz and Redmond stared at him with amazement. Sathawick looked back, “What? Archeologist? Remember? I was doing some research into immortality and came upon the story in a monastery in Spain.”
Oz started to lean in close, “Tell me more about Reginald,” he pressed. Inwardly he could not believe the connection between a Mad Friar in the 1100’s and Father Reginald Pater could be possible. Then again, a conversation on Thanksgiving between an Angel, a Seer and a Prophet was also less than likely.
Sathawick told Reginald’s tale:
“Born the son of a black witch, Reginald became a black mage himself. Reginald and his mother virtually ruled a town in Spain. In a nearby monestary, Reverend Abbot Graves received a message that dark forces were approaching. He sought out Reginald and the two became friends of sorts.
“When Graves and Reginald’s mother fought a great battle, it was Reginald who turned the tide by siding with Graves against his mother. Reginald became a pupil under Graves studying the Scripture and the Word of God. He and Graves battled the forces of evil using Faith and mysticism for more than twenty years.
“Reginald felt the Holy Spirit move him one night and spent the next seven years trying to recover that feeling. But when Reginald sought to merge with the Spirit – essentially become God – he was rejected and thrown back to the Earthly plane because his soul wasn’t ready.
“On the same night, Abbott Graves stood to oppose him. The Abbott sacrificed his life to contain Reginald within a cross. The cross has been handed down through the centuries to the leader of the Original order, at first, and then to trusted priests through the centuries.”
By the time he had completed the tale, there was a small crowd around them listening intently. “Great events inspire all who hear them,” said Redmond to the assemblage. Some of them slunk back to their tables and handout meals. A few, however, remained.
Redmond turned back to Sathawick, “The cross isn’t in Spain. It is here. It is the ‘lover’ that is called by the wind.”
Facer shrugged, “Could be. The priest I talked to was very old when I met with him eight years ago. Dunno where it could be now.”
Oz was struck by the power of the Word moving people and events in its own defense. *It is worth a shot,* he thought. He stood up and faced the crowd, “Who here knows a priest?”
Dozens of hands arose.
Oz continued, “Who knows a priest from an Order in Spain?”
Most of the hands disappeared.
Oz started to refine the question when an apron-wearing volunteer behind the food line stepped forward, “I think I may be the man you are seeking, señor.”
By this time the entire room was huddled around the four men in conference around the table. The man, a professor of Divinity at UCLA, had been given the cross six years ago by the head of the Order in Spain. He had been given explicit instructions as to what it was and the story behind it.
“It was all 12th century mysticism,” the priest explained, “Worthless mumbo-jumbo; a curiosity with a fascinating tale. It had little or no value aside from its incredible tale, as it was a relatively plain-looking silver cross. But a few years ago something happened. I always kept the cross safely in my desk. It was locked inside a very secure building.
“The cross disappeared. I filed a report with the police, and was briefly under suspicion until they realized that there was no insurance on the item. But no fingerprints, no evidence of break-in, and certainly no evidence of anything else being disturbed led the police to suspect it was misplaced. Nothing ever happened after that.
“I was certain that it would turn up again, but it never did.”
Oz spontaneously hugged the priest, “Padre, you have put it all together. That was the last bit I needed. I know where the cross is, and I know who has it. Pray with us father, we are going to have a Crusade.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! No, not today mutherfuckah!” said Sathawick as he jumped up on his chair, “You cannot declare a jihad on anyone’s ass in LA. I don’t care if he is the anti-Christ himself!”
Redmond nodded in agreement, “He’s right, it’ll end badly.”
Oz was dumbfounded, it had seemed so clear: his purpose, his mission, his sacrifice - all necessary to save the world from the madness of Reginald. He had a rag-tag army of homeless behind him and a man of God at his side. He would lead them to victory.
“You will lead them to their death, your death, and the death of the world, Oz,” said Redmond, “This has to be a mission of life. All you can see is an end to suffering in a fiery and glorious battle saving the world. A good way to go, but not if you are leading the world you leave behind to its doom. You would beat Gabriel to the punch.”
Beating Gabriel to the end of the world amused Oz since he knew that “Gabby” was a pompous prick just because his name was in scripture. But he also knew where these two were going. He would have to approach this a different way.
“Who wants to go to church with me on Sunday?” Oz asked the assembled “army” as the beginnings of a plan began to form.
[/]Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 5th
Alessa’s house
10:30 am
“Come on, lazybones! Wake up!”
Alessa growled as Chance shook her. She put her face under the pillow and slapped his hand away. “No! No me molestes, es muy temprano!” she said, reverting to her native language in her sleep.
Chance laughed and stole her the pillow. “Wow, the girl is angry. No comprendo,” he said with his thick accent. And laughed again when she tried to hide under the covers. However his laughter ceased when he saw her face. She seemed to sense his change of mood, because she peeked from under the covers.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing at a large, ugly bruise on her cheek. His brow deepened in concern. "You didn't have that when we went to sleep last night. How did you get it?" He began to feel slightly guilty. "Did I...?" Chance let the sentence hang.
Alessa’s hand flew to her face and she grimaced when she touched the sore spot. She hadn't noticed it when she had come to bed, either. Then her mind registered his question.
“NO! Of course not. You…” she shook her head, “I went… out, last night again. I couldn’t sleep.”
Chance straightened. "You went... out? Where? With whom? All night?"
Alessa rolled her eyes, exasperated. “I went alone! What question is that?” She flipped over the covers and grabbed her robe. “I couldn’t sleep and I went out for a walk.”
She stood up and walked towards the kitchen to prepare some coffee. Chance followed her.
"Look, love. It's not safe. You know that. Or you should do. Especially with Morris around." Chance added, "I just... worry."
Alessa was busy in the kitchen, but her movements eased when she heard him. She turned and leaned on the sink. “I know.” She touched her face again, “This was a present from a young pup of a vampire... No, it was all right,” she said when she saw Chance’s expression. “I was taken by surprise, that’s all.”
She stopped again and looked at him. James’ face lingered in front of her eyes. She knew he wouldn’t like it, but she didn’t want to hide her meeting with the vampire from him.
“I met one of your friends last night,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “The vampire.” She turned around, and made herself busy with the kettle.
Chance's face was blank for a moment. Then it slowly dawned on him who it was. His mouth dropped open. "James? You met James? He did this to you?" he asked furiously, already heading to the weapons chest. "I'm going to find him and dust him."
“No Chance! He didn’t attack me, in fact he save-” Her eyes widened at her admission to have needed help. *Oops,* she thought. “Of course, I could have morphed and-”
Chance’s head turned to look at her. There was hurt in his eyes. And worry. “You never morph unless you don’t have any other option! I swear Alessa, some time it will be too late-” He breathed deeply to steady his rising anger. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded.
Avoiding his eyes, Alessa told him about the young vampires' attack and how James had helped her out. She didn’t tell him about the kiss, though. she had dismissed that as soon as it had happened, and it wasn’t something you could go telling your boyfriend about either. James was just too charming to take him seriously.
“He seemed nice enough,” she said, a little belligerently.
Chance nearly exploded. "Nice enough? NICE ENOUGH?" In fact, he did. "He's a bloody VAMPIRE. He only appears 'nice enough' to get close to you and suck you dry. And if you're getting bruises like that, I think you need some training. And someone to come with you out at nights. I'm not getting much sleep these days either."
Alessa felt her temper rise as well, she looked up to him and shouted back.
“Oh, muchas gracias! Thank you very much, mister!” she said in a sarcastic tone. “So you think I need training. Great! Just to let you know I have been fighting vampires for a long time on my own.”
She waved with her hands in a very Latin way. “Of course, not as long as dear old Matthew has!” She pointed her finger at him, “But I have been taking care of myself for longer than your Chance has!”
“Alessa…” called Chance, still angry.
But she dismissed him and left the kitchen. She was too wound up to listen to him, and walked to the bedroom instead. She started going through her drawers and putting on the first things she found.
“And James was nice. He helped me against other vampires and didn’t even look at my neck. Not even after I told him who my boyfriend was. Muchas gracias!” she said again.
“Alessa,” said Chance again behind her.
She twirled around and raised her finger, silencing him. Her eyes flashed. Down deep inside she knew she was overreacting, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“I don’t need you telling me what to do. I’m my own woman. James did help me, needed or not, and you should be thanking him and not trying to dust him.”
That was too much for him to hear. “Thank him! Thank him!" Chance almost babbled so angry he was. “I will never thank that… that… vampire!”
He breathed in again, he was afraid of his own temper. He looked at her flushed face and added in a lower tone, “Alessa, you do need training; you are out of shape, for all your demon strength. And you have to let me go hunting with you, you can't depend on others…”
He shook his head, he wouldn’t even picture James helping her. He went on, “More so with Morris around. What will you do if he attacks you? The vampire is a mage, for God’s sake! I’d keep you inside the house if I didn’t know you!”
“Hah! For all it’s served!” she answered, not noticing she was giving herself away again, so furious she was. How could he doubt her, not trust her instincts? He was treating her like a child!
But Chance did notice her slip. “What do you mean?” At her guilty face, he exploded again. “He was in the house?! How come you didn’t tell me?”
“Because it’s my problem! Because I want to deal with him myself!” She took her purse and headed towards the door.
“Where are you going?” he asked her, trying to take her arm.
Alessa shoved his arm away and answered. “I don’t know. I just need out!” she said and left.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Tuesday, 5th December 2006 – 12:15pm
Alessa was angry. She hated to be told what to do, hated to be doubted and hated to argue. But mostly she hated to be wrong. The moment she crossed the door she regretted her tantrum. Some things Chance had said made sense, were very sensible, actually. She couldn’t go on like that. She had been lucky so far. Young vampires she could manage, hell, almost any vampire she could manage, if she morphed. But too many at the same time, or an old one, or a mage one, like Morris? Or a very nasty demon?
As much as she hated to admit it, Chance was right. If she was to hunt, she couldn’t do it like this, alone. And she needed to get some serious training. It had been ages since she formally trained in her fighting. She was thinking so, when she noticed she had been rambling in the direction of Tash's apartment building. She smiled to herself; her feet had come to the decision before her mind did. Tash had told her she could go and train at the building’s training room. She approached the door and rang her bell. She just hoped Tash was home, before she changed her mind.
Tash swallowed the last of her lunchtime coffee and picked up the intercom handset. The camera showed Alessa standing on the front steps of the building and Tash smiled. "Alessa," she said into the receiver, “come on up. Third floor." She pressed the door release, to allow Alessa entry to the building.
A few moments later she greeted Alessa at her front door. Something was plainly not right with the woman, as anger and frustration rolled off her in waves. "What's the matter?" Tash asked, ushering Alessa into her living room.
Again, Alessa felt warmly comforted by Tash's presence. She thought now that apart from the training thing, she had come there to be heard. After all, Tash was the only person she had felt safe enough with to talk about her fears; apart from Chance, that is. And who would have an objective view of her problems, without love/jealousy/fear getting in the way.
She looked into Tash's warm brown eyes and said, "I just had an argument with Chance. And needed some air." She smiled weakly and looked around the apartment, trying to find the words to explain herself. It was a beautiful place, bigger than Darian's. She looked at Tash again, "Is your offer of the training room still open?" she asked instead.
"Sure it is," Tash said warmly, knowing herself how therapeutic a training session could be when she was upset. "Do you want to talk about it at all, or would you rather we sparred and you could pretend I'm him?" Tash's smile was more than a little cheeky.
Alessa had to laugh at that. "Yes that could be it. If you don’t mind my mood, that is. I'd love to spar a little with you. Although I suspect you could teach me a thing or two."
A few minutes later Tash had changed and was leading Alessa to the training room. "I've been doing a bit of sparring on and off the past couple of weeks with Jeet - he's a new tenant here. But he hasn't come up yet this afternoon," Tash observed as she opened the door onto the silent training room. The polished wooden floor gleamed in the light from the windows, which also glinted off the practice weapons arrayed along one wall.
"So, what are you hoping to achieve? Do you just want to work off some aggression, or do you want to hone a particular fighting form? I have to warn you, I'm better at some than others," Tash laughed.
Alessa entered the big room silently and walked towards the weapons on the wall. She fingered one of the blades and the image of Chance's sword sent shivers down her spine. "Swords," she said. "I'd like to use swords."
Swords. Of course. Memories of sparring with Sorrow flooded Tash's mind and she repressed a sad sigh. Jeet had also been sparring with her in sword, and like Sorrow he was far better than she at it. "I'm reasonable at the blade," she told Alessa, "though not the best. But still, a couple of friends have taught me a trick or two."
She chose one of the practice weapons for herself, then sized up Alessa and chose one appropriate for her height. Tash certainly had reach on the woman, being some four inches taller than Alessa, but she had no idea how much advantage Alessa's half-demon heritage gave her.
"So, she said casually as they warmed up, "why were you and Chance fighting?"
Alessa clasped the sword in her hand. It had been a while since she had used one of these. She tentatively swung it forward and rotated it, her wrists and arms automatically adjusting to the form and weight of the weapon. She moved forward with a little too much force and lost her balance. She giggled.
"I think I'm out of form," she said. She knew she was avoiding Tash's question. "I... I haven’t been able to sleep lately; when that happens I go out and hunt."
Alessa leapt forward again, simulating an attack. "Chance is not very happy with that."
Tash made a wry face. "Yes, I had a similar set of arguments in the middle of last year with Victor. Though in my case I was going a bit overboard." Tash shook off the old memories of her struggle with the residue of Ohenewaa's legacy.
"So," she said carefully, feeling that Alessa wasn't telling her the whole story, but not wanting to push too hard if the woman wasn't willing to talk about it, "he's worried you're out of form and will be hurt? Or is he annoyed that you don't ask him along? Men can be overprotective at times, you know," Tash winked.
Alessa sighed and leaned on the sword. Tash was always so able to see through her! "I think both. He's afraid, and he's mad. Or he's mad because he's afraid. I don’t know. It's just that I have been on my own for so long that I'm not used to having a man fussing over me."
Quickly raising her sword, she blocked Tash's attack and deflected her weapon. She smiled; she could see that the woman was holding back, trying to measure her ability and strength. But in the next moment, she was looking at Tash from the floor; she hadn’t seen it coming and Tash had her sword's tip on her throat.
She laughed again, as the woman helped her up. "Maybe he's right. About the out of form part." Alessa dusted her pants and sighed. "He's probably right about the not asking him along too. I have been tempting my luck, lately." She thought about the irony of having been helped by a vampire. *He’s also very pissed by the fact that a vampire helped me yesterday night,* she thought to herself, but she wasn’t going to admit that to the vampire huntress.
"Ok, if someone comes at you from the side like I just did you're much better off trying to sidestep or parry this way." Tash demonstrated with her own weapon. "Here, let's try that attack again." This time when Tash pressed the attack, Alessa was able to deflect the blow, albeit a little awkwardly. "Much better," Tash encouraged. "Again."
As they repeated the pattern again Tash pondered what Alessa had just said – and not said. There was definitely something her new friend wasn’t saying, and she wondered if it related to the vampire she’d talked about the other day.
She kept her tone light as she asked, "And what about Morris? Is he the one you're looking for out there? He sounds like someone you might want to take a partner along to hunt." Tash glanced at Alessa as the woman executed a perfect defence to the attack, then Tash switched sides and attacked from Alessa's exposed flank, forcing her to mirror the defence on the unpractised side.
”And have you had any more 'presents' left in your house?" Tash added.
Alessa's expression hardened. She didn’t like to think about that but Tash question was heartfelt. She knew the woman only wanted to help her, and Chance attitude was far better explained if she knew the whole story.
"Not physical ones," she said, and at Tash's raised eyebrow she told her about Morris' intrusion in her dreams. She didn’t look at Tash though, and strongly practised her movements. There was a blush in her face when she finished and finally looked at Tash.
"Hmm. He was a mage in life, you say? Could be he's using magic himself to project these dreams – he'd have got the same boosts the Brotherhood did – or he's hired a mage to do his dirty work. The only way I can figure he got the note in your house the first time was through a non-vampire agent."
Tash stopped being analytical and placed a friendly hand on Alessa's shoulder. "I know these sorts of attacks are really disturbing. Dreams should be inviolate. But try not to let it get to you. We need to find him and kill him, Alessa. This is the sort of thing the White Hats are for. None of us have to face these things alone – there's help available. At least let me and Chance help you hunt down this vampire.”
She looked down. Her face was flushed but exercise wasn’t the only reason. As Tash had guessed by this time Morris intrusion in her apartment wasn’t the top of her worries. She was afraid of him messing with her thoughts. She knew she was right about needing help too. It was the same thing Chance had told her. *I can’t do it alone,* she said to herself. *I have friends now... and I have Chance.*
She raised her eyes and looked at Tash again. She smiled at the concerned expression in them. "You are right. I think I will, but not before we finish this." Laughing she lunged forward, taking Tash unaware and making her lose her feet. It was the woman's time to end up in the training mat.
Tash grinned up at Alessa from where she lay on her back. "You have some moves of your own, I see. I didn't show you that one." Tash pressed her gloved hands into the floor and backflipped to her feet, landing in a ready stance with her sword held before her. "Let me see you try that again," she dared with a wink.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 5th
4:10 pm
Alessa’s apartment
When Alessa came back home, almost six hours after she left, she was exhausted but her mind was at peace. The training session, *And talking session,* she added, had been truly therapeutic, like Tash had said when they parted. She was looking forward to talking with Chance, and she almost ran in her rush to his side. Her face was flushed when she got to the apartment.
She just hoped he was home. She wanted to apologize; well, maybe apologize wasn’t the word, but she wanted to start anew. She didn’t want to be at odds with him, nothing was worth that; and she realized now that Morris had achieved thus with his mind tricks. He had been close to really hurting her, them. She was at her nerve’s edge, and she had overreacted, although Chance’s reaction to her news wasn’t really the best either. She shook her head and reached for the door knob.
Chance opened the door before she could touch it. His face was anxious.
“Where were you? You’ve been out for hours!”
She saw real fear in his eyes, and laughed, jumping into his arms. Everything would be all right. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to frighten you.”
A little more subdued she explained, “I went walking and ended up in Tash’s building. I’ve been sparring a little with her.” She placed a swift kiss to his lips before adding. “I decided to take your advice… about training and the rest. If nothing, for therapeutic reasons!! Tash said we could use the training room every time we wanted. I’d love you to help me with my fighting,” she laughed again, “And if today’s session is telling, I do need help. At least with swords!”
She got serious and looked into Chance’s blue eyes; he was about to say something but she silenced him with another kiss. “I don’t want Morris to get between us, he’s done enough already! And let’s not talk about James either. He’s not important.” No way she would apologize for liking him!
She disentangled from his embrace and entered the apartment. Chance closed the door and followed her inside, he just didn’t know what to say.
“I also checked on Cole. He’s still unconscious, but he seemed more at ease.” Alessa was in the bedroom, already taking her clothes off. “I want to take a shower, I’m sticky with sweat.”
"Okay, um...then-" He tried to talk but she was too excited to hear him, anyway. Probably the endorphins acting up. Endorphins made you happy, after all.
"Want to join me?" Alessa stopped just behind him, and her eyes held an invitation. Chance raised an eyebrow. Instead of waiting for an answer, Alessa disappeared inside the bathroom.
The sound of the water running snapped him out of his trance. He shook his head at her changing moods. She had been a termagant in the morning, and now she was a seductress. He hadn't been able to say a word, with all her excitement talking, but he was glad she was fine and happy.
He had what he wanted after all; he would see for himself that she do some serious training and didn’t go hunting alone again. They would talk about Morris later; he didnt dare to now, lest she change her mood again. Smiling he started towards the bathroom.
The phone started ringing when he was going to enter the bathroom.
“Don’t pick it up!” shouted Alessa from the shower, but she sighed when she noticed that he had. A minute later, Chance’s head appeared in the shower, his expression wasn’t joyful, though, but excited.
“It was from the hospital,” he said. “Ernie is awake.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 5th
Los Angeles General Hospital
5:30 pm
Reintroducing Sean Connery as Ernest Longwood.
Ernie shifted in the bed and realized that his right hand was resting in something soft and silky. He looked down and his breath caught at the sight of Alessa. She had pulled a chair close to the bed and was asleep with her head resting on her arms, her face turned towards him. His hand was tangled in her dark hair. She didn’t even move when he carefully freed his hand to shove a hair lock out of her face.
The door opened and a nurse quietly entered the room. She checked the IV and the equipment and then smiled to see Ernie awake. It wasn’t the same girl as earlier, but a middle-aged nurse. She was pleasantly plump, with warm brown eyes and a wide smile.
"Mr. Longwood," she said quietly. "How good to see you awake and aware." She checked his eyes efficiently.
"Thank you," he replied, bemused. He'd never known hospital staff to be quiet when they went about their business.
The nurse looked down at Alessa and smiled. "You've quite a friend in this young lady. She refused to leave your side when she came earlier and you had dozed off again. Told off Dr. Richards, and not for the first time." Her mouth quirked when she glanced at him. "Endeared herself to the nursing staff when she did that, I can tell you. Man's an excellent doctor, but he's also an ass and about as condescending as they come. I believe the staff would do just about anything she asked, within reason. They have, actually, since she’s been coming here every other day.” She gave a merry laugh.
Ernie smiled. Now that sounded like Alessandra, he thought fondly. "How long have I slept this time, Ms…?"
“Mrs. Stevens,” she answered, then she checked her watch and said, "A little over five hours. You've been in and out of consciousness, mostly out. It's good to see you awake,” she nodded to Alessa, “and her sleeping. She came as soon as we called her and she did look as she needed the sleep."
Ernie looked again at the sleeping Alessa and he could understand the woman’s words. Her face was drawn, bruises marred her cheek and he thought she was thinner than the last time he had seen her. However, he'd never seen her look as beautiful.
The coming of Dr. Richards startled him; the doctor coughed loudly, and stared sternly at Alessa’s sleeping form. Ernie took a immediate dislike to the man. He shook Alessa softly.
“Alessandra. Wake up, dear,” he said, and his stare dared the man to object to her.
Her head snapped up, and he saw her eyes focus first on his hand and then on his face. She smiled brightly and jumped to hug him, but was stopped by another of the doctor’s coughs. Alessa turned her head to the door and rolled her eyes. But she kept holding Ernie’s hand.
“Could you please leave us alone, Ms. Hunt?” asked the young doctor, as he moved towards his patient and started to check his condition. Alessa looked at Ernie questioningly and only left at his nod, not before giving him a warm kiss in his cheek.
Ernie looked at the doctor with narrow eyes. The man had looked nice enough in the morning but his cold tone bothered him now.
“Will I live?” he joked. And then, more seriously he added, “How bad it is?” He remembered everything now, and supposed his injuries must have been serious to have kept him in a coma for so many days. And he still felt exasperatingly weak.
“Let’s see,” said the doctor, “When you came in you were in a sorry state. You had internal wounds and bleeding. But we were able to repair all of it. You healed rather slowly at first, but that’s not surprising given your age.”
Ernie grimaced, the doctor made him feel like Rip Van Winkle. “However, you did heal. It was the coma that worried us.”
“Concussion?” asked Ernie.
“Yes. But only a mild one, nothing to explain your coma. We did a brain scan, of course, and there wasn’t sign of embolism, brain damage or cranial fluid pressure. You did take a hard knock in your head, but that alone doesn’t usually end up in a coma.” Richards looked at his patient again, in the eye. “It was as if you didn’t want to wake up.”
Ernie looked away, that most probably was it. There wasn’t much he would wake up to, now that Andrea was dead. He and his son had rarely spoken in the last ten years, and all his long time friends were dead; all but Alessandra, of course. But he didn’t dwell on those thoughts, he looked at the doctor again.
“When can I leave the hospital, doctor?”
“Well… not for a while. Your body has to build up its strength again, and more than a few sessions with the physiotherapist are in order for your muscles and bones to be able to carry you again. Two months of inactivity just do that to a human body.” He inspected his patient intently, “We won’t expect you to be able to leave in almost that much time.”
“Two months!” came Alessa’s surprised cry from the threshold. The doctor turned, an irritated look in his face, but she didn’t pay him attention and rushed towards Ernie. “So long! I so hoped you could come home sooner!”
“I’ll leave you to your visitor now, Mr. Longwood,” Dr Richards said coldly, and left the room.
Alessa made a face at his retreating form and Ernie had to laugh. Then she turned to him and sat down again. She clasped one of his hands on hers again.
“How are you feeling Ernie? Oh, I’m so happy you’re awake. I knew you’d make it out of this, I just knew it. Some people weren’t so sure but you were always a strong man, I kept telling Ch-” Alessa stopped and looked at him, before continuing, “I think there’s a lot I have to tell you.”
She lowered her eyes, and in a more subdued tone she said. “Your wife-” But Ernie's hand on her head stopped her.
“I know. I remember.”
Alessa looked at him in the eye. Hers were full of tears. “I’m so sorry, Ernie. I’m so sorry about everything.” She couldn’t hold his stare and lowered her eyes. Guilt engulfed her. But Ernie took her chin and made her look at him again.
“In this line of work those things happen, Alessandra. It wasn’t your fault,” he said more light heartedly than he felt. His eyes hardened. “What happened to Dray’chen? Is it still alive?”
Alessa swallowed. She knew this was going to arise, she just hoped he could understand. She closed her eyes and started to tell him everything that had happened regarding Chance/Matthew, and Dray’chen, after his attack. When she finished Ernie kept silent for a while, his face completely expressionless.
“So you’re still with- with that demon!” He almost spat the words, and disentangled his hand from hers.
Alessa sighed, this was going to be harder than expected. She nodded before answering, “The demon has been bound, Ernie. He’s Chance again.” She took his hand again, “I’m not asking you to be friends with him, but please don’t blame him.” She paused. “I don’t know if this relieves you at all, but he’s punishing himself enough for what happened. He… we haven’t had an easy ride either.”
She felt his eyes in hers again, and looked down. “You never blamed me for my demon’s blood. You can’t blame him, either, for what happened all those centuries ago. He’s also a victim here.”
She sighed again, and her jaw set. “And I love him.” She held his stare, until Ernie looked away.
“If you say so,” he finally said, but he didn’t look much convinced. “What have you been doing? Apart from binding demons, I mean,” he asked in a more cheerful tone.
It wasn’t that he distrusted Alessa, he could understand that a possessed person wasn’t really responsible for the possessing entity’s deeds, he was just a vessel. It was just… that he wasn’t very comfortable about her living with an evil demon from hell, bound or not.
Then he remembered Chance as he had been before the demon had arisen, making wisecracks and witty, yet hiding inner despair and sorrow. He chuckled unhappily; no wonder, if such a past was waiting its chance to emerge. He could see why Alessandra loved him; from her words, the man had pulled together after an ordeal that would have destroyed more worthy men. And he seemed to love her in return. He remembered the glowing green eyes that had looked at him after leaving him to bleed to death; those weren’t Chance’s eyes. With an effort he paid attention to Alessa again, who was nervously chatting about what had happened since the bounding. He would think about the demon later, when he was alone with his thoughts.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday, Jan 3, 2007
Evening
Alicia Wylding sat on the floor stretching before the Tai Chi class began. She found that it helped relax her to loosen up a bit before the actual exercises began. The feel of stretching in her right thigh told her that she had stretched long enough before moving on to the other one. She was actually glad to have been able to find the time to start doing class again, as it was a great way to relieve stress.
Looking up, she saw the man she thought of as the ‘new guy’ enter, though there seemed something off about him. The way that he carried himself was the first thing that got her attention, a look of sadness was the best way to describe it. Something that she later figured must be quiet and meditative for him.
The new guy was something of an odd figure to everyone there, his look being part of it. She overheard someone talking: he had said that he never before had practiced anything like Tai Chi, but almost instinctively knew what came next. Sometimes hitting on older forms. But moreover, they didn’t think he was joking at all about lacking any experience which made the question of how he knew things rather interesting.
“He’s probably just one of those jack-of-all-trades,” she’d heard someone say. “You know the type, the annoying kind of person who just picks up at least a passing competence in whatever they try to do.” A time with the Council had developed her instincts on such matters well, and she had to wonder if there was more going on there, as unlikely as it seemed.
Her curiosity was piqued about him to say the least, especially when she caught him glancing in her direction a time or two. The look on his face was one of curiosity as well as wonder at her. Did he know anything, she wondered, or was he just going to end up hitting on her?
At the end of class, she was preparing to leave when the man approached her. His posture was fairly at ease with things around him, navigating with the greatest care between people. “Pardon me,” he said gently, being obviously careful with his words. “Would you have a few minutes to spare?”
“That depends,” Alicia said, both curious and a bit cautious as to what precisely he could want. Instinct was telling her that there was more to this man than met the eye. “Can I help you?”
The man’s expression hardly changed at all, though he seemed to react to more than just her words. “That’s strange,” he said. “I wanted to ask you the same thing.”
Alicia was a bit unsure of what to make of this, and she noticed that he closed his eyes in focus. “I-I’m sorry,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “This is all new to me.” She raised an eyebrow at that. Probably talking about the class, but given what people had said, she doubted it was all that new.
He continued to hold his head, fingers at the temples. It was as though he was trying to sort out something in his head, conflicting signals. The man swayed back and forth for a moment, shuddering as someone walked past. “Are you ok?” she asked.
“Just fine,” he said, pausing for a moment. He took a deep breath and steadied himself before looking directly at her face. What was going on with him? At the very least, he seemed to be a bit on the strange side. She hoped it was just nerves. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to disturb you. I should leave.”
The man turned to leave, and Alicia did not know what possessed her to stop him. Curiosity? More than a small amount to be sure. Also a bit of concern, something seemed to be disturbing him. “Wait,” she said, stopping him from going. “Are you sure everything is all right?”
He met her gaze again, pausing in thought, noting him glance over in the direction of the person who had walked past. “Yes, it’s just being around lots of people… it can be difficult sometimes.”
Alicia arched an eyebrow at that. “I think you picked the wrong city to live in.”
He chuckled a bit at that, knowing not to take the remark entirely too seriously or personally. “Probably.” As he looked at her again, she could see an equal amount of curiosity in him. “I’m Nikolai – call me Kolya,” he said, offering his hand.
It took her a moment before a decision was finally made, accepting his hand and shaking. “Alicia.”
There was, she noticed now, a slight nervousness about him. As the next class was trickling into the school, weapons class if she remembered correctly, he closed his eyes again and shook his head. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t feel well,” he said. “Perhaps we can talk some after the next class.”
It was strange, she thought, since he had seemed well during the class. She resolved to see how he was before the next one, if he had the same problem. “We could,” said Alicia. “I hope you feel better,” she added sincerely.
“Thank you,” he replied, politely nodding before disappearing. He moved with a sense of slow urgency about him now, she noticed. Nikolai seemed fairly odd, and she had the feeling that he would at least talk to her some. But why, about what? Resolving to be patient for a few days, she sighed before returning home with a number of unanswered questions.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Monday, January 8, 2007
Nikolai found his life take on a strange routine since discovering his new-found ability. One of the more interesting things to come up was the sudden offer from Reah to work for her – the last thing he expected after they tried to kill each other so long ago. Which resulted in the curious position that he'd now be working in a 'soon to be' re-opened armoury.
It was twice a week on Mondays and Wednesdays when Kate came over to teach him how to control his powers by now. Oh, they had needed more time early on but he was at last getting the hang of them. Very strong emotion or a crowd could cause problems, but he was managing remarkably well.
Then when they finished, he was off to Tai Chi. It was an impulse that led him to take the course, and he found it come very naturally. Though he had never taken a class, he remembered L’Than practicing it. The moves came to him as though he were remembering instead of learning. Tai Chi, he found, provided both relaxation and a way to focus. It was still a little taxing – it probably would be for a couple of months – but at least he was getting better.
When he arrived at the day’s Tai Chi class, he looked around for the woman he had spoken with the previous week. What was her name? *Alicia,* the memory returned to him. Her curiosity at him had reached to him clearly, and he had focused on her to figure out her motives. It was genuine curiosity, wonder at the man who took to the lessons naturally. Too bad that the emotion finally got to be too much for him, and he had to leave – more tai chi at home cleared his mind, letting him get through the rest of the day, even get a drink or two after work with co-workers.
As before, Alicia was there stretching. He did have to admit that she looked more than a little attractive. But the loss and revenge were still too recent. The part of him that was L’Than relied on her instincts to tell him that she needed help of some sort. Walking over to her carefully, he noticed her see him on the way in.
Walking over to her, he focused as well he could to block out the emotions of other people. *How does Kate stand being a telepath with her abilities? I’m turning into an empath, and it’s already hell.* “A pleasure to see you again,” he said when he reached Alicia.
“Hello,” Alicia said, looking up at him from her stretches. She pulled up a knee next to her, and he could tell she was trying to be polite. “It was Kolya, wasn’t it?” she asked with genuine curiosity.
“Yes,” he replied, smiling lightly at her. He couldn’t help but notice the way her hair fell around her face. “I’m sorry about leaving so quickly last time. It’s just, well… as I said, I don’t handle crowds well.” Nikolai didn’t mention that the full reason was that with his abilities a few people in the weapons class positively spooked him.
Alicia smiled and laughed lightly, slowly rising to her feet. This was twice he’d said the exact same thing to her, and twice she had to wonder that he picked the wrong city to live in. If you wanted to avoid people, LA was not where you went. “So, Kolya,” she said meeting his eyes. “Just curious, what do you do?”
Nikolai suppressed a small chuckle. *Well, I work with people who kill demons,* was not a good answer. For that matter, how did you tell someone that you were a peaceful man but you sold guns, knives, and swords to humans and demons alike? “I’m a salesman – rather dull and boring position, actually, except for the occasional strange customer.” He hoped that would work well enough to deflect further questions, then changed the topic. “What about you?”
“I work at a rare book dealer,” she said, looking at him in thought. There was still something about him she wasn’t sure about. “You said you thought you could help me the other day. What did you mean by that?”
Nikolai looked down, unsure of exactly what to say. “Well, you seemed a bit distracted. Like something was bothering you – I have a gift for reading emotions,” he added this last with a smile. If only she knew her curiosity had broadcasted clear as a bell.
Alicia raised an eyebrow at that, and looked at the man called Kolya in a new light. Anyone could learn some degree of empathy, though it could vary greatly across culture and even within a culture. But if he had it in the more literal sense, could actually receive the emotions of others a problem with crowds made more sense.
So did his behaviour the other day, she thought. Overloaded with the amount of information sent by others? *Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions.* “This isn’t some kind of routine, is it?” she asked, a touch of suspicion and teasing in her voice.
“No, it’s not, I assure you,” Nikolai replied. “Hmmm, they appear ready to start. Perhaps we’ll talk later,” he added with a smile. For an hour they practiced Tai Chi, Nikolai again managing to advance by instinct. The instructors seemed extremely impressed.
On the way out, he stopped to see Alicia again. Something in his mind came up. It was like a memory, a title. *She did say she was a rare book dealer, so maybe they’ve heard of it.* “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said as he found her again. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes?” Alicia replied, turning to face him. She wondered what the strange man was going to ask her, though part of her wondered how much stranger he would seem after.
“You said you were in rare books,” he said, the title appearing in his mind. “Perhaps you can help me find something I’m looking for. The Meditations of Jelana?” Not that he knew much of what it was about. Just that it had occurred to him to find it.
Alicia stopped cold in her thoughts at the mention of the work. She had actually read extracts of Jelana’s Meditations, a book comparable to that of Marcus Aurelius in that it was something of a journal. “It’s possible we have it,” she said quietly, reaching into her bag to look for a card.
About the only humans she was aware of reading them were people in the Watchers’ or Sindell’s ethics classes. She handed him a card with the address and hours to Bibliophile. “Here, this is the store where I work,” she said, feeling her curiosity about him increase. “Stop by sometime. If we don’t have it, we might be able to find it for you.”
Nikolai smiled at her. “Thank you,” he said, before leaving. “I’ll do that.” As he left, he could not but help but wonder at feeling the spike of surprise from her.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Monday the 4th December, 2006
23:04
Reah grimaced at the memories of her lost friends and companions. But she also fed off them: used them to fuel the fire that burned within her, just waiting until the moment of sweet release when she would unleash her wrath upon her targets' asses. For too long she’d had to live with the memories, been haunted by them. Soon, though, she’d finally be able to avenge them.
The soft soles of her boots padded lightly, stealthily scraping over the hard packed sand about ten metres from the road. She took full advantage of her low-light vision as she approached the expansive crater, cloaked and hidden by the night, of the former town known as Sunnydale that now lay swallowed whole by the earth.
A few trucks up ahead were marked clearly by their hulking shadows and the dancing flashlights of their most recent occupants as they jumped out.
Reah counted off the bodies - there was certainly no shortage of demons here - but she was also counting on the probability that none of them would be the brightest of beings: considering the business their employer was going about. And that’s if even Paul knew what he was getting!
Reah sniffed in her quiet musing; she hadn’t thought of that last! *Temporal mechanics… I hate them! Hehe.*
She allowed herself a small chuckle that caught the attention of a nearby bull-horned demon. Its red eyes turned sharply in her direction, scanning blindly over the darkened landscape. A feral smile distorted Reah’s features as she crouched low and shuffled back a bit further till she was happy with the distance she’d put between him and his party.
It wasn’t long before she was sneaking back towards the trucks, re-sheathing her sword as she unsheathed its matching, long-bladed dagger. Reah swiftly slipped in behind one of the regular, but hulking, human guards and quickly slit his throat with a sharp flash of the blade, gently easing his lifeless body to the ground before she moved onto her next target.
She hadn’t even spared a thought to how efficiently she’d managed to dispose of the six former guards, that had been standing ground at the mouth of the crater, without creating much of a scuffle: her mind was too fixated on the job to care! It wasn’t until the last two bodies that she couldn’t separate from each other - possibly because they’d noticed a sudden drop in companions - that she had to deal with them hand to hand.
*Or sword to hand,* Reah thought idly with a morbidly amused smirk.
Strolling leisurely past the trucks, stepping over the body of a scaly demon in her path, towards the edge of the crater, Reah peeked over the edge. The chasm was deep and dark, its base marked only by the glow of fire born torches.
Reah sniffed and made her decision. As far as she could remember, nothing apocalyptic was going to happen down below: therefore she saw no point in climbing down after them. Instead she headed back towards the nearest truck that offered the best view of the crater's mouth, picked her footing and hoisted herself up so she could perch watchfully on its roof, and focused her mind and energies...
Cybernetic eyes pierced through the darkness with an eerie glow.
…Then came the anxious wait.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Dec 5th 2006, 5:30 pm
“Little boy blue, little boy blue, where are you?”
Cole could hear something calling out to him; a small, feminine voice, distant and faint, but he could still hear it.
“Hello!
Is someone there?
Where am I?”
He could hear the call growing stronger, closer, but still he couldn’t see anything around him, save for total and complete darkness.
“Am I dead?”
The calling stopped and was replaced with childlike laughter. Whatever it was, it was now next to him. Cole shivered in anticipation.
“Why can’t I see you?”
”Because your eyes are closed, silly,” it giggled. “Open your eyes little boy blue.”
A cemetery.
Standing before him was a young girl, probably no older than five or six. Her blonde hair was tied in two small pig tails, which cascaded down around her pink frilly dress. Her overly large brown eyes stared back at him, their expression pleasant and innocent.
“You’re going to be late, late, late, late, for this very important date. Hurry, hurry, hurry…” The little girl grabbed Cole’s hand and began skipping off deeper into the cemetery.
Cole followed. Something told him to follow, made him follow. He had no choice in the matter.
“I don’t understand.
Who are you?
Is this Wonderland?”
“Don’t be silly, you know where you are.” The girl let go of Cole’s hand and ran behind a headstone, totally obscuring her from the teen’s vision.
“Wait, where did you..?” When he rounded the other side of the headstone she was no longer there, in fact, neither was the headstone. The cemetery vanished, and instead Cole was standing in the dark streets of LA. He knew the place, it was close to where he had lived briefly with the squatters.
“You’re not my fucking father, Chance!”
He recognized that voice; it was his voice. Off, just a few meters down the street, he could see… himself… arguing with Chance. This didn’t make sense. *This happened two weeks ago.* Yet there, playing out before his eyes, was the argument he had so greatly regretted.
“Cole, wait!”
He saw Chance call out to him; the other him, as the other Cole ran off.
“Chance, I’m over here!” the real Cole screamed, trying to get his friend’s attention.
He didn’t hear.
Cole tried to run forward, to explain to Chance he didn’t mean what he said, but the spell the other Cole cast seemed to affect him also. He couldn’t move.
“Chance!”
“Big brother is not watching you… not listening to you…”
The little girl was back, this time wearing a bright red dress. “Tick tock, tick tock, the party is almost over, and we’ll be left with no cake.” She grabbed Cole’s hand again.
Flash: a living room.
“What do you mean late for the party?”
It was no use, she wasn’t there any more.
Everything was so bizarre, so surreal, yet Cole didn’t seem to question anything; it was like he was supposed to be where he was.
“Oh Cole, why did you do that?”
*Alessa!* he could hear her voice coming from the next room over. He went to take a step towards forward, but was instantly just transported in the room. It was smaller than the living room – a bedroom.
Alessa stood concerned over the figure lying in the bed.
“Alessa!” Cole said excited, hoping she could tell him what was going on.
She didn’t answer, she was too engrossed in looking over the other person.
“Alessa?” he asked again, as he walked around her to see who was on the bed. A tiny gasp fell from his lips – it was him.
“No, that’s not me, I’m ok, look I’m right here!” he screamed, trying to get Alessa’s attention, but she was gone and he was once again standing in the cemetery.
“Ring around the Rosey, Pocket full of Posey, Ashes ashes, they all fall down.”
Cole jumped slightly at the sound of the little girl’s voice. She was standing in back of him, and the tiny black dress she wore made her look like she was getting ready for a funeral.
“Don’t you mean we all fall down?” he corrected her, remembering the proper lyrics to the rhyme.
“It doesn’t matter silly, that’s not till later.”
“I don’t get it, what’s not till later?”
“Their music stopped and there was no chair left for them; the game is over; look.” She pointed off in the distance of the cemetery, totally ignoring Cole’s question.
Cole could make out three figures: Chance, Alessa, and someone else, something horrible.
“Who is the third person?”
“The Queen of Hearts. She’s in a rather bad mood. I wouldn’t recommend going near her.”
Black lightning arced from the mysterious black armored figure towards Alessa, and a moment later she fell out of view.
The teen took a second to look down at the girl (who had vanished again), and without hesitation, ran towards the fight. The faster he ran, the further the combat seemed to get. “Guys wait, I’m com – WOAH!” Cole lost his balance, tripping over something big.
“Alessa…” His body began to shudder at the sight before his eyes. Alessa’s body lay before him, cold and rigid.
She was dead.
“No, no this can't be. What is this? This isn’t real.”
“Sleeping Beauty pricked her finger; don’t worry, I'll make sure she gets her rest. But you better hurry, big Billy Goat Gruff isn’t going to beat the troll under the bridge,” the young girl said, leaning comfortingly over Alessa’s body.
Cole was still in shock, but something told him to press forward. The next thing he knew he was standing just mere meters away from where Chance was being pulverized by some Medusa like demon.
The teen wasted no time in conjuring up a ball of flame to hurl at the monster, but the fire would always dissipate the second it left his hand.
“Leave him alone!”
Tick Tock Tick Tock
“God damn it, work!” he half screamed, half pleaded as he continued to try and stop the monster.
“No… no… NO!” he watched helplessly as the demoness released a final spell. A moment later, Chance’s eyes closed as the last of his life was drawn from his bloodied body. Cole looked to see if the demoness would come after him, but she was no longer there. The cemetery was calm; only him and Chance’s body.
“Wake up, wake up,” he cried frantically as he crawled over to Chance and began shaking him. “No, no this isn’t happening… Chance, wake up.” Tears began to flow freely from his eyes, and a chill washed over him as he continued to try to reanimate his friend. “Chance, you’re not dead, you can't be dead!” He gently lifted Chance’s head, hoping that he would just open his eyes and everything would be ok.
It was no use, Chance was gone.
“No…” he said weakly as he slumped forward, his forehead resting on Chance’s. Tears fell like a waterfall, washing the blood off Chance’s bruised face.
“Don’t cry, little boy blue.”
Cole feebly lifted his eyes to see the little girl standing over him, her white dress a beacon of light in the dark scene.
“Tock Tick, Tock Tick, the hands are moving widdershins. Big boy blue is coming. He’ll deal with the Queen of Hearts.”
“So people will be all right then? Alessa… Chance?”
“Hopefully everyone will live happily ever after… Well, happily until the big bad wolf makes everyone in the kingdom sick. Ring around the rosey, pocket full of posey…”
“Huh? What do you mean, get sick?”
“Shh, don’t worry about the big bad wolf and his nasty cold, he won't be arriving for another few chapters. Now go back to sleep. Your faery godfather is watching over you, and you don’t want to worry him do you?”
“But… but…”
Black.
Darian watched protectively over the form of the young boy. He had been tossing and turning for about an hour.
“Shhhh, don’t worry kid, it’s probably just a bad dream,” he whispered comfortingly, wondering if somewhere deep down Cole could hear him.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 4th,
7am
“Yes, we’ve taken whatever we need. What time are you coming over again?” Jessy spoke into the phone and nodded as she got her reply back. “Don’t worry we’ll be ready by then, hopefully. No, we haven’t packed a lot. Yes, we’ll see you here then,” Jessy said as she hung up the phone and looked around Tarix’s apartment to find Tarix nervously sitting on her settee, biting her lip, thinking it all over.
Jessy looked at her and decided to sit next to her to wait for Thule. Tarix moved a bit to give Jessy some space to sit next to her but continued to look nervous.
“So you finally have all your memory back, every bit of it. In a way I guess that’s good. At least you know what’s what.” Jessy tried to start a conversation. It probably wasn't a good subject to start from but she was just curious to know what her sister was going throw. Jessy still didn’t totally trust Tarix, and she didn’t know when that time would come when she’d really be able to trust her, but in a way she could make sure that this time she was there for her.
Tarix just seemed to be looking out into space after Jessy had mentioned that. In a way she felt her brain figuring at each memory and holding it, examining it and then putting it back to thumb through other memories and picking one and go through that. She glanced at Jessy and tried to give her a smile. “I… I can say I’m a bit happy, hoping I won’t be getting those mind splitting visions. But yes, it all very clear now. My mind is still booting up, putting each memory into place, but it's all very clear.” She felt the memory of her collaboration with the Macabres come into view.
“I knew that man, Lynkes, I knew him quite well. He was like a father to me when our real father was too busy for us. He was like Thule was to me before. I know there is no justification for my deeds but I guess I didn’t have a good childhood and Lynkes seemed to sort it out for me.” Tarix’s eyes seemed to tear up and she stopped.
Jessy's face hardened at the mention of Lynkes. She had seen him once when she’d followed her sister back in New York, and she’d memorized that aura of the Macabres. Jessy remained quiet and then looked at her watch.
“Ja…” She caught herself. “Tarix, it’s time,” she said quietly and went to get her own bag.
Tarix didn’t know what Jasmine felt, but she felt shocked to find Jessy finally call her by her new name. She knew she had babbled a bit too much but she couldn’t help it. She sighed and went to get her small bag as well, in which she had packed a few essentials and a couple of garments. She strung the bag around her neck and grabbed her keys from the table. She looked back at her apartment and wondered when she would next return to see it again. Turning the lights off, she looked at the darkened room and then closed the door to drench the room entirely in darkness.
***
Thule parked his car in the driveway and got out, and opened the door for Tarix to come out as Jessy opened the door for herself. They all made their way to Thule’s house after Thule had locked the car. Thule unlocked the front door and ushered the twins in and then locked the door behind him.
“Why don’t you both go upstairs. There is a guest room on the right - I’m sure Tarix has seen it if you don’t remember it Jessamine - and there is a bathroom further on. You can dump your stuff in the room and freshen up if you like.” Thule paused, thinking whether there was anything left unsaid, and finally added, “Well I’ll let you get on with it, meanwhile I’ll fix you lot some tea.”
Both the girls saw Thule go towards the kitchen and they both decided to go up the stairs towards the guest room. Jessy came into the room first and looked around. It was tasteful yet simply decorated, with a double bed in the middle of the room with side tables with lamps on them. The wall paper was of a boring greenish brown colour, and the curtains matched it. There was also a small dressing table in the other corner of the room. Jessy dumped her bag on the bed and decided to head for the loo.
Tarix followed her sister and set her bag on the bed too, but decided to sit down beside the bags. She looked around the room once more and felt uncomfortable in a house she’d spend the night only once. After Lynkes had left with his warning to see them again Jessy had taken the duty of ringing up Thule and telling him everything, to which Thule had listened in silence and decided to get both the girls moved in with him temporarily, for their own safety until he could decide to keep them safe and figure it all out.
Tarix looked at the curtains and the wallpaper again and felt it all melting away, and she gripped the bed tightly bracing herself for another dose of headaches. But they never came, instead a few memories that were already there were rewinding and playing again and again in her mind. In her mind's eye she saw it all over again, what she didn’t want to see. Her going off with Lynkes, Lynkes training her, her standing in a room full of Macabres not understanding, them scrutinizing her. Many feelings overwhelmed her and in the same time showed her a deeper glimpse into the past, her past.
She looked up and saw Lynkes looking down on her, saying something.
“Now Jasmine, you do understand don’t you?” he said with a grin.
“She’s just prey, I still don’t know why we have to go through this.” There was another voice; she looked behind her and saw the most hideous face she’d ever seen. It was all red and seemed to have many scars on its face, and its piercing bright green eyes now looked at her. “What are you looking at, filthy Koolang?”
Without knowing, her eyes began to well up and she looked down to hide them. Lynkes seemed to notice, but not say anything. He took the Macabre and went away, and Tarix couldn’t hear what he said, but when he returned he seemed to act as if nothing had happened. He came in front of Tarix and sat down. “Sorry, some business I had to take care of.”
“Why, Mr.Lynkes, why does he hate me so?” Tarix heard another voice, and then realized it had come from her.
“Oh, dear Jasmine, she doesn’t hate you. Just jealous I guess. She doesn’t believe in the cause that Koolangs and Macabres can live in peace.” He looked at her and came in closer. “Like I do. You are my plan to make peace between us. You believe that, don’t you?” Tarix nodded. “That’s good. But there is someone who doesn’t believe in the peace.”
He got up. “Your father, he thinks it better to kill all the Macabres. He doesn’t even like the Koolangs that much, probably didn’t even know he’d married one. But you know he doesn’t love you, you know that.” Tarix looked down and knew it.
“But you, you are special.” He had come back into his position in front of Tarix. “There is a way you can fight this, make it better for all of us. You have to kill those against us, you have to kill them.” He looked deep into his eyes. “You have to kill your father.”
BAM! Tarix had slipped off the bed and fell hard on the floor on her bum. “You ok?” Tarix looked up astonished, and saw Jessy.
“Huh, yeah I’m ok,” she said, not that convincingly.
Jessy didn’t seem to believe her, but she had long been used to Tarix and her flashbacks; she was the one who catalyzed it. “Yeah well, when you’re ready come down I think Thule may have the tea ready.” And with that decided to leave it at that and left.
Tarix tried not to think about it either and wondered what Lynkes had said to the other Macabre, but soon decided to give up the thought and headed downstairs as well.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
*** November ***
*** Small island off the coast of Columbia ***
Ambrose Delancre walked into the lab, eyeing workers scurrying all around. He smiled indulgently at one of the young Danla demons when she glanced up nervously at him. She was barely mature by the standards of her kind, but Ambrose felt a familiar stirring at her innocent stare. She was very lovely, the tentacles at her waist a bright purple. He would have to remember her and have her brought to him soon.
“Director,” a small, weasely man with a thin mustache rushed up, nearly bowing in his nervousness, “I didn’t expect to see you this soon. Is there something..? That is, what can I do for you?”
“Dr. Whit.” Delancre assessed the man coldly for a moment. As distasteful as he might appear, this man was a genius when it came to combining mystical and biological warfare. He had once worked for the United States government, as leader of a team working under the now defunct Initiative. He was Ambrose's top researcher, and had enabled Ambrose to create the “super soldiers” now making up the WCA. Ambrose treasured the little rat, especially since he not only was good at what he did, but he actually enjoyed it. Whit liked to watch as his test subjects writhed in agony from his little experiments. Delancre could appreciate the small man’s enthusiasm.
“I’ve had a message that there’s been a breakthrough in the 'Hyde Project',” Delancre said. “I was hoping you’d have a demonstration for me at last.”
Dr. Whit grew excited at Delancre’s words. He was all but shaking with anticipation. “Yes, yes, sir…” he said, leading his superior towards the back of the lab. “I have just the test subject.”
Dr. Whit turned to one of his human research assistants. “Colby, bring the Loas in.”
“A Loas demon?” Ambrose said, “Why?”
“As I’m sure you are already aware sir, the Loas are the most peaceful of all demon species heretofore encountered. They are herbivores who possess no known violent tendencies,” Dr. Whit explained, as the demon, a rather adorable brown furred creature, was led into the room. “I figure this will be essential in demonstrating how well Hyde 232 works on its subjects.”
Ambrose nodded without replying as the Loas demon was led to a small room and shut in. The room had one large observation window which Ambrose and Whit now moved to. They watched without comment as a robotic arm came out of the wall and grabbed hold of the obviously terrified demon. The robotic arm injected something into the demon’s neck and then withdrew, setting it free. At first the Loas just stood still, trembling, but then it began to run wildly about the room, crashing against the walls and screeching. After a few moments a small, hidden door slid open near the rear of the room and a kitten slowly crawled inside. The Loas immediately stopped its mad antics and turned to face the tiny creature. The kitten sidled up to the demon and began to rub against its leg. The Loas reached down, apparently preparing to pet the cat. It lifted the tiny body in its hand and held the kitten aloft. Then, with no real warning, the Loas bit the head off the tiny kitten.
The Loas spit out the head and roared loudly. Ambrose Delancre chuckled. “Good show, Whit,” he said. “I really like the kitten. It adds something, another level I think.”
Dr. Whit was grinning now. “Yes, I rather thought you might,” he replied. “In any case, as you can see, the Loas is behaving in a manner quite opposed to its nature. Effectively, it has been completely turned around.”
“Yes, I see that,” Ambrose studied the Loas openly as it stood in the tiny room, blood dripping from its muzzle. “So… now what?”
“Now we start the human trials,” Whit said. “The virus is effective against humanoids and animals. As soon as I have perfected it, I will let you know.”
“See that you do,” Ambrose said, turning to leave. “See that you do.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Monday, 4th December 2006
Janey looked over her shoulder as the large grey beast in residence in the corner of her room slammed against the bars of the cage once more. The moaning howls and angry snarling barks filled her ears and she glared absently at the monster slinking into the shadows.
“Oh Max, ssshh. I’m trying to read.”
Max (‘as-in-like-Maxine’ - now ‘as-in-like-werewolf‘) growled back and scraped long claws against the floor.
Janey frowned down at the book cradled in her arms. It had been a long time since she had tried to study the runic spells and chants of her ancient ancestors. So far it was all floods and seasons and worship - nothing helpful about a hormonal werewolf. Janey focused squarely on a grey stretch of wall and tried to recall everything she could about werewolves. It wasn’t much... she had heard only legends until a month ago today, she had wandered casually in her fiendish friend.
Not that Maggie was her mother, but she could imagine the situation - dread-locked boys in indie rocker ain’t-never-bin-washed jeans are the worst of all worse people to bring home but, ‘oh Maggie, I’d like you to meet the love of my life - Max the Girl, also Max the Werewolf’ had to beat them all. It wasn’t the ideal way to start a relationship (an abrupt relationship; within a month they were living in the same room except Max was in the doggie basket by the door).
Janey remembered sitting up against the iron door of her bedroom as Max scratched the other side - remembered emerging hours later as Max lay, fully human, naked and exhausted on the floor - remembered the long, long ‘discussions’ with Maggie and James as she tried to explain how she had managed to pick up a werewolf, and why the door to her bedroom was now rattling on its hinges.
James in particular had objected to the latest addition to the family - not that Max had been happy to see him either as she came naked into the kitchen (“Arg!! Arg!! It’s a man!!”).
Janey sighed and rolled over on her bed to face the DIY cage. Max lay limb, her manic energy ebbing. Janey was utterly bewildered - tired - angry - sad. How one person could so disrupt a regular (albeit vampiric) life just wasn’t fair.
She thought back over her heritage, her epic life ancient and modern but wishing to be neither. She knew only too well her birth rights as both vampire and Aztec; what was expected of her - on one hand to be a pure virgin sacrifice of the best blood, on the other to be a scavenging predator, a corrupted human, a fighter. She was neither of these things - from her first life she had sought release to be free to live and love as she wished, but there was no escape from night, from the desire for blood.
And now she had a glimpse into a different sort of life - suspended in time and history as impossible, improbable. The things that she was, had been - vampire, noble Aztec - both denied her this and at the back of her mind said no, cannot be, will not be, shall not be. But as she watched Max’s sleeping form she felt new sensations blossom in her, so many emotions and as she shivered, feeling something inside long dormant flutter into existence, she made her decision. She let the rosy glow wash over her and decided to let whatever it was - whatever this lightness meant - happen. For this deep peace was more part of her than any blood could ever be.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 5th
12:01am
Flashback
“What are you looking at, filthy Koolang?” Kaya said looking down at young Jasmine with look of utter loathing in her eyes. The young Koolang in front of her felt hurt and looked down, her eyes starting to water. Kaya bared her teeth into a cross between a look of further despising and satisfaction. Lynkes caught Kaya’s eye and gave her a disapproving glare, which she seem to ignore. He quietly went up to Kaya and led her out the door with him and closed it behind them.
Kaya slyly looked up at Lynkes, trying to look innocent, and was about to say something but Lynkes held his hand to stop her.
“Kaya, must you be so rude and hostile to her?” he said with an irritated tone and an annoyed gesture.
She looked back at the door, the loathing coming back into her eyes, and she looked back at Lynkes to show him how she felt, and if that wasn’t enough she voiced it. “Henry, you know that bringing that wretched creature here is dirtying all that is holy to us.” She looked around the corridor of the building that was the headquarters to the Order of Death. “And bringing her here could also threaten us - do you know nothing? You should have killed her mother long time ago, so that the brat never had the need to be born. And then good riddance to Koolangs, forever.”
Lynkes pursed his lips, as if in a thoughtful pose, then suddenly grabbed Kaya from the back of her head and brought her closer to his face. “I have my ways. That Koolang and her mother may be the last left, and I have no wish to let them die easily. I will make sure they die the most painful deaths ever. You dare not ever try to hinder me again, Kaya.” He let the Macabre go, who didn’t seemed to be too shocked by his behavior. “I wasn’t put on the council for just my good looks,” he said in a more lenient voice.
Kaya smirked. “Oh Henry, won’t you hold me again? I like it so much,” she said teasingly, to which Lynkes just smiled.
“Maybe later, now leave me to do my job,” he said dismissively and turned to go back into the room. He came in to see Jasmine still with her head down, but he ignored it and trying to look slightly sympathetic, went to her. “Sorry, some business I had to take care of.”
He opened his eyes and looked up at the beige ceiling that loomed before his head. He realized he must have dozed off on his chair and sat upright, rubbing his eyes. Lynkes looked at his desk in front of him and saw the familiar papers all over it, with pictures of his former student, Jasmine. Thinking of her name brought a smile on his face. All along he had planned the death of what was presumably the last Koolang. Lynkes laughed. *She was the last Koolang.* He knew this because he had already witnessed a magical ritual the council had done to locate all the Koolangs. A locator spell itself wasn’t as complex as this one, as this one had to locate an entire species. It had taken more then a month, but the search had come out to bring only one result: Jasmine’s mom. Lynkes had begged and pleaded and even heavily bribed the council to give this last Koolang for him to slay, and he wasn’t the only one. Many wanted to slay the last Koolang, but in the end Lynkes' efforts paid off and he was given the task.
And he had taken his sweet time too, tracking his prey like a predator should. He watched her every move and every habit, and almost became obsessed with her, and after he was done he’d go back and dream the day when he would finally end her life, and it sent ripples of ecstasy though him. He dreamed how blood would seem to flow on her milky skin, how she would scream out, begging him to take mercy on her, and how he would laugh in her face. At times when he knew that the “Honeys” were out of their home, he’d taken the guise of Alfred and stolen a further inside glance into their home. There was a time that the couple’s housekeeper had come in to find him going through the drawers but Lynkes' disguise paid off, and she didn’t know the difference.
Lynkes started to tire and decided it was finally time to put the last Koolang to sleep, permanently. He went to their house and discovered them celebrating: the Honeys were going to have a child. That made Lynkes retreat and rethink his strategy. If he were to kill her now, he would also kill the child within, thereby having a double kill. But were he to wait he could kill the mother and later take his revenge on the child, or better yet turn the child to do his dirty work. What would be more painful then being killed by your own child? Then Lynkes would kill the child and finally end it all. He would go down in the history of Macabres, as not only killing the last Koolangs but also of having most brutal killing.
The council wasn’t that impatient with the delay, and had their faith in Lynkes; they knew that when the time was right he’d make his move. However, some of the other Macabres weren’t as patient and some even tried to kill the Koolang children after they had found the Koolang had had the children, and two of them. They decided that Lynkes could keep the mother, and they would take the kids. Lynkes found out and was there just in time to stop them, but the damage was done; the family now knew of the threat they were in.
As soon as they could, they went into hiding. It would have taken Lynkes forever to find them, had it not been for young Jasmine. *Foolish girl.* She had contacted him just a few days after they had moved to New York, and he had moved there with them, without Alfred knowing. But before that he made sure the council passed a formal note that were any other Macabre to hinder Lynkes’ work, he or she would be punished.
Lynkes went back to work on the girl and poisoned her mind further, as a snake would do to its victim after giving it a lethal bite. Only Lynkes did it more lovingly, or so it would seem to the young Koolang. To him he had more loathing for the Koolangs then many Kayas put together. He just made sure the young Koolang didn’t know it. He trained her martially too, to match her sister’s, who he knew was already trained by Thule. Then finally the day came and he had Jasmine go and kill her mother. He had told Tarix to make sure that her mother looked at her before she killed her, and the stupid girl obliged. *Like a bloody puppy dog,* Lynkes would chuckle. He also made her kill her father, just for fun. He meant her to take care of her sister too, but the brat proved to be less useful in that matter and went and got herself almost killed.
On that night of Jasmine’s mother’s death, Lynkes had gone into their home moments after the terrible loss. He had used magic to see how the Koolang was killed and watched it over and over in his mind, very satisfied at how she had died. He then stored this information in a crystal to show the council later, and to keep as his trophy he cut off a few strands of the mother’s hair. He then put more magic in the environment inside the house so that were anyone else to use the similar magic as he had, they wouldn’t see him. He knew exactly who Alfred had worked for, and had researched on the Order of Valor, and knew he wouldn’t get involved with them unless he most definitely had to.
He then went to look for Jasmine. After she killed her sister, she was to come to him, and he was to reward her, give her something special. He had even had a special dagger made for the occasion. He waited in his chambers for four hours straight and grew worried that something had gone wrong. Finally he had left and tried to locate Jasmine but his search was in vain, and he never found her. He tried everything and made sure the council didn’t know but finally after two or three years had passed he decided to go the council and report. He told them how two Koolangs were missing but showed them how he had killed one of them. The council didn’t seem too happy with the first news, but after seeing how the Koolang had suffered, they decided to leave the case still in Lynkes’ hand. To make his search easy they had done another locator spell. This showed both the sisters together and in LA.
It was a good thing The Order of Death also had one of its headquarters in LA, which was where Lynkes had first trained Jasmine. Their main headquarters was somewhere near the border of Mexico, but underground, along with the biggest Macabre colony. So Lynkes had transferred back to LA from New York and encountered Jasmine, who was now Tarix. He was thrilled to see her panic once she’d recognized him. He had some of his best spies on her, and knew about her amnesia, the memory return and then the whole lot of guilt that had fallen on her. He was disappointed to have missed it, but nevertheless enjoyed the idea of it.
Lynkes got up from his chair and stretched. It was quite late and he decided to head to his temporary home. He gathered his papers into a folder and his hand came across a picture of Tarix, and he stopped. He looked at her, the golden hair messy and falling all over her face, hiding her forehead but not her sparkling blue eyes that seem to cast a spell on him. He recalled her mother and now he saw her in her daughter. He smiled an evil grin as his mind sent to work on how he was going to torment her and her sister.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Nikolai pulled his Monte Carlo up to the street near Bibliophile, sighing at the fact that someone had pulled up too close. “Damnit,” he swore. That seemed to be the only space nearby today, everywhere else nearby being pretty much full, which was to be expected for L.A. “I want to park in there. Guess that’s- What the hell?” this last was directed at the fact that the car began to move on its own.
He watched as the car adjusted itself carefully to wedge itself in between the two cars. Nikolai looked down at shock at the vehicle. *Comrade Creator did not tell me that my car could drive itself.* This would bear further looking into, but later. Though he’d been back for months with it, it was only in the past few weeks he seriously started driving again, and then he hadn’t let himself get annoyed.
Getting out of the car, he moved slowly towards the shop called Bibliophile, checking the card again. It certainly seemed to be the place. As with all new places, Nikolai found the first thing he noticed was the emotional feel: varying levels of interest in enough subjects that he could hardly pick out a single one.
Pushing his way into the shop, Nikolai determined not to allow the emotion of the place or the people around him to overwhelm him. Kate was proving right, what he needed was to re-expose himself to crowds of people slowly. Bibliophile and the obviously busy café section seemed as good a place as any.
Looking around, he couldn’t help but admire the collection of books available. It certainly did live up to its name. He found a young woman working there as he looked around, trying to block out her emotional state. Part of his mind wanted to just accept it, to let the emotions be part of the background noise. “Excuse me,” he said, getting her attention. “I was given this card to the shop. Could you tell me where I can find Alicia by any chance?”
“Alicia?” asked the girl in slight confusion, turning to face him. He got the distinct impression that she wasn’t exactly sure who that was, so started to describe her. A look of surprise came over her face; obviously Alicia was not exactly only a first-name basis with the employees. “Oh, Mrs. Wyldling. I can go get her for you?” she asked a bit hesitantly.
“I would appreciate that. Thank you,” Nikolai said, as the woman hurried off, steadying himself momentarily against the new flood of emotions. *Remember what Kate taught you. Remain calm and focus.* A minute later, he straightened up again, feeling the flood subside.
Nikolai needed something to take his mind off the feelings, so began to look at the various bookshelves around. “Good afternoon,” he heard the voice of Alicia Wyldling from behind. Turning to face her, he smiled slightly and could see why it would be so surprising that he knew her by first name, being dressed and appearing far more formal.
It was a change that he had not expected, but probably should have. Her body language was clearly standoffish and formal, her voice very businesslike. Only he could still feel a bit of her curiosity at his behaviour emanating from her. “Good afternoon,” he said with a voice that was probably more cheerful than hers, though this would not be an accomplishment to brag about. “I never knew you were married.”
“Widowed, actually.” Her voice was as cool and formal as before, but he thought that he could feel something else there. A feeling of loneliness, not really wanting to be reminded of this.
He had to shake his head slightly as he noticed the emotions. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, to remind you.”
Alicia stiffened some in surprise. She was always careful to be able to project a formal, unforgiving atmosphere about her. How had he seen right through it? “The Meditations you were looking for? If you will just follow me.”
Nikolai followed behind carefully, able to tell that he had just put her off as she led him towards the appropriate part of the store. Part of him wanted to say nothing; the other wanted to do something, try to offer some comfort. When he spoke it was softly, “You don’t have to keep everyone at a distance, you know. The act can only last so long.”
Alicia had reached out to pull the book from the shelf, stopping mid-reach at the sound of his voice. She frowned slightly, turning back to him with a leather-bound text of several hundred pages in hand. “Listen, Kolya, I am at work right now, so I like to maintain at least some level of professionalism.”
Silently he accepted the book from her, the alien part of him being brought more to the forefront. Still, he recognised the need to change the subject. She was becoming more anxious. “That’s the Meditations?” he asked.
There was a spike of intrigue from Alicia at that. “You seem surprised. Jelana is not known for short works. Where did you hear of her?”
“I-I, well that is… I didn’t. It just sort of came to me, like something I’d been searching for a long time.” Nikolai could feel the wonder and almost disbelief at that statement, when they started back out towards the register. He was shortly a great deal poorer, when he looked at Alicia again…
There was a bit of loneliness there, he knew. Nervous as well – whether at perception or the possibility of him saying something, he wasn’t sure. He was now certain that her apparent aloofness and standoffishness. “Thank you, Alicia. I think I’ll check out your café here, have lunch. If you feel the need to be ‘unprofessional’ or talk… come find me.”
She gave a rather polite, but still formal reply before he walked over to the café. This was easily busier than the rest of the store, and Nikolai had to stop to grab his head again at the flood of emotions. He decided to eat lunch like a Russian, which meant a lot and that it would take a while.
Sitting down at a corner table, he silently ate and tried to focus on lunch rather than the crowd of people. Kate’s techniques were coming more naturally, but she was right that only pushing himself like this would let him fully learn to control his abilities. Eyeing the book, it really did seem like something that he had spent a long time looking for. Out of curiosity, he opened it and began to read.
Book One.
1. From my mother I gained my sense of justice, and of the natural harmonies of the world. Without these things, I would not possess the understanding of nature I now have. But above all, an example of the compassion with which to approach all life…
Nikolai continued to read for a while, finding the style to be fairly interesting – like a running diary, only with the first book as introspection. He looked up as he noticed that the severe figure of Alicia Wyldling had reappeared. She seemed still to have the loneliness about her, though she seemed slightly more at ease. “Please, have a seat.”
Alicia remained more stiff and formal, sitting down across from him. Her voice was kept low and still somewhat standoffish. “I just need to know one thing. Is it auras or telepathy?”
Nikolai smiled, resisting the urge to laugh. That explained the slightly more at ease, she’d worked out that he had something. And furthermore, she was in the know about the supernatural. “Empath, actually.” He glanced around as another emotion showed plainly through, inclining his head at the large black man behind the counter. “Is everyone so surprised to see you actually talking with a guy?”
While Alicia didn’t show much, he could tell that she was amused at least a little. He put his fork down, leaving the book aside. “So, Alicia… shall we talk?”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
***Saturday, December 16th, 2006
Los Angeles Airport - 11:30 am***
To say that the sobs of Nicolette Saracens were “a bit evident” was an understatement. Gwen stood in front of her mother and sobbed with her. She and Sergei were leaving for their honeymoon, and the fact that her only child was finally grown up was taking a toll on her.
“I will write to you every week, mama! And our first daughter shall be named after you, just please, don’t cry!” Gwen tried to persuade her through her tears. This only increased both of their weeping.
Adriana and her sister, Dominika, stood next to Sergei as the event transpired. Enzo and Lorraine were behind them, smiling.
Christophe sighed and said to his distraught wife, “My dear, if we waste any more time crying, Sergei and Gwen will miss their flight and so shall we.” He moved Nicolette away from Gwen and gave his daughter a kiss on her forehead.
“Be a good wife, Gwenaelle, and a good mother once you have kids,” he said to her. Gwen began to sob more.
Sergei wrapped his arm around Gwen and said to everyone, “Well, we’re off to two,” he looked at Gwen sobbing, “romantic weeks in the Mediterranean. See ya.” He waved and walked to the terminal with his new wife. Adriana waved to Sergei. As the couple disappeared, Enzo placed one hand on his hip and wrapped his other arm around Lorraine.
“God bless those two,” he murmured in Romani.
Christophe nodded his head and looked at his watch. “Lord, is that the time? Our flight back to Marseilles will be leaving in about fifteen minutes. It is good seeing you and your wife again, Enzo,” he commented. Christophe then led his wife to their flight to their homeland of France.
Adriana turned to her uncle who was checking his own watch. Lorraine looked around the airport and questioned, “Where has your brother run off to, Enzo? He was here just a moment ago.”
Right on cue, Dmitri, Adriana’s father and Enzo’s brother, came with his wife, Adriana’s mother Apollonija, and Adriana and Dominika’s sister, Polina, though their brother, Alesander, was nowhere to be found.
Dmitri smiled and commented, “A bit of a mishap with the security, but nothing to worry about. Alesander is with mother. She wanted a drink from the airport’s bar. You know how mother is with her liquor...”
Enzo laughed, as did Adriana. She knew of her grandmother’s fetish for Irish alcohol, and whenever she was in America, she would have at least one glass of it. From the distance, they heard a woman call out, “Alesander, leave my drink be! Don’t you have enough liquor at that university of yours in Germany?”
Adriana laughed as she saw her púridaia walk towards them. Yolanda laid her eyes on Adriana, Dominika, and Polina and said, “You three are growing to be such beautiful women. Oh my, correct me, two of you are women! I expect husbands soon!” She kissed each girl on the cheek and walked away. Adriana felt uneasiness come over her. She wasn’t prepared to tell her grandmother, or anyone for that matter, that she'd made out with a vampire at the beach on the first night of the reception.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Polina, who was begging her father, “Please let me stay, papa! I don’t see why I must go back home when it’s a weekend!”
Dmitri turned to his sixteen year old daughter. “You have already missed a week of school. I will not allow you to miss another day,” he told her quickly.
A woman’s voice came over the speakers, “All flights to New York are leaving in ten minutes.” Enzo sighed and picked up his adjacent bag. He gave his brother and sister-in-law a hug, and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. Adriana hugged her uncle, her aunt, and kissed her mother, father, and grandmother good bye. The only people left were Adriana and Dominika.
Dom faced Drea and smiled. “I took a few extra days off. They don’t need me that badly back in Russia,” she commented in Romani as they began walking towards the exit. Adriana smiled back. It was good to see her sister again.
“We should go out tonight,” Dominika said out of nowhere. Adriana looked at her curiously. Dom continued, “While I’m in Los Angeles, I want to see the club scene. Know any good clubs?”
Drea said nothing. Between school and work, she hadn’t had time for clubbing, even if she did like it. Dom went on, “Of course you don’t. You’re a good girl. That is why I have taken the liberty of doing some research of my own. There is this club I wanna go to real bad. Have you ever heard of Club Vosrazhenie?”
Adriana thought about it. She had actually. Some patrons at Bob’s were talking about it once. What she heard was not good. “I heard that it’s owned by the Russian mob,” Drea told Dom. This was a fact. “Some demons were talking about it a couple of weeks ago. If Mr. Polyakov doesn’t like you, you’re thrown out and beaten.”
Dominika gave a curious glance to Adriana and asked, “Polyakov? As in Yuri Polyakov?” Drea nodded her head. Dom smiled widely as she pulled out her cell phone and searched through its contents.
“Mr. Yuri Polyakov has two sons: the second one, Peter, I dated for six months. He has been begging me ever since to get back with him. I’ll just use my powers of persuasion to get us in,” she explained.
Adriana’s jaw literally dropped. “You’re involved with the Russian mob? And I thought the fact that I’m involved with demons and vampires was disgraceful!” she commented.
Dom laughed and began dialing her ex’s number. Dominika held the phone to her ear and let it ring. Adriana could hear a male’s voice answer. Her younger sister began speaking Russian in a sweet, almost a baby-like, voice as she answered, “Peter? Peter, lyoobimaya, Ya toskuyoo bez vas. Ya toskuyoo bez vas tak, rebenka.”
Drea, not being able to speak Russian, couldn’t make out the conversation. But when Dominika hung up, it was evident that she was able to get them into the club.
“Peter and I are officially dating again. I’m supposed to announce it tonight at the club...” she explained in Romani, when Drea continued the statement.
“But, of course, you won’t. I suspect you’ll get with every man you see.”
Dom pretended to be insulted. “Not every man. There are not that many good looking people in Los Angeles!” The two sisters laughed.
Dominika then stated, “So it’s settled then. Tonight we are going to Club Vosrazhenie. We’re going to have a good time, and no one is going to stop that.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Monday - December 4th, 2006
Alice’s eyes opened. She stared up at the ceiling for a moment. She was in a not totally unfamiliar place. Alice sat up. Pain instantly ran up her leg. She looked down at her bare legs to see that her body was only now overcoming the poison that she was injected with. Second on her list of observations was the fact that she had been striped down to her panties and t-shirt. *I guess that the council didn’t want any surprises.*
Alice surveyed her location. She was in a small eight by ten foot, windowless cell with one steel door. A small light built into the wall over the door was her only illumination. The only objects in the room were a chamber pot and the old wooden cot on which she sat. Alice knew where she was all right. She was in the heart of the Order's stronghold.
Alice knew that even if she could get out of her cell there were guards down the hall. And even if she killed them and got out of the dungeon, that there were darker things that roamed the upper halls. Nevertheless Alice didn’t want to escape. She knew why the council hadn’t had her killed yet, and she knew she was going to see them before they let anything happen to her.
*** Hours after Alice awoke***
Alice rested on the cot, listening to the guards down the hall play cards and talk about how it was nice to have an attractive prisoner to play with. Alice smiled and wondered why the council wanted her to escape: setting her up with human male guard, who would obviously try something with her sooner or later. Did they want her to try to escape? Alice just lay back and listened. After ten minutes of boaster's talk of what they planned to do to her, their party was interrupted by a new voice. Or rather an old voice, one Alice knew instantly. Alice smiled as the new voice told the guards how dead they were if they even went in the same room as her, and that she could hear everything they said.
Moments later Alice heard someone coming toward her cell. Alice sat up as the door opened. A man dressed in a dull gray kimono. The man handed her a bowl of chopped vegetables and a glass of water. Alice looked at his katana as he shifted it to sit beside her.
“Don’t even think about it, Bunny. You know if you touch it I'll have to kill you.”
Alice picked a bit of carrot out of the bowl. “Who said I was looking at your sword, Logan?”
Logan looked down at the bowl in Alice’s lap and the healing bruise on her leg. “I’m sorry for that, Bun.”
Alice rubbed the bruise. “That’s ok, hun. I figured they would send you after me. Why a dart?”
Logan played by Harold Perrineau Jr
“The council wanted you alive and even if I tried to talk some common sense into you we would end up going at it.”
“I seem to remember you liked 'going at it' with me.” Alice punched him in the arm.
“What was that for?” Logan rubbed his arm.
“That damn dart hurt. What was in it?”
Logan looked Alice in the eyes. “Why did you do it Bunny? They’re going to kill you.”
“I’m not worried about the council. Just about what I have to do to get out of this.”
“Out of this? There’s no out of…”
Alice put her finger to his mouth, “Shh, hun.” She moved over and sat astride his lap. “Do you really want to talk?”
Logan removed his katana from his belt and set it in the corner of the cell. As he turned back to Alice he was met with barrage of passionate kisses.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Tuesday - December 5th, 2006
Alice watched for some time as Logan rested, then her eyes slowly panned the room. Clothing covered the floor. She smiled as she looked at the broken cot. Then she fixed her stare on the sword in the corner of her small cell. *I should take Abis ni ti noxintil and run.* Alice shook her head, *They’ll just send him after me. Or worse, come looking for me themselves. Nope. I’ve got to stay and take care of this mess.*
Logan began to move. “Ohh. My back. Damn girl. What were you trying to do, claw me to death?” He rolled over to show Alice her claw marks.
Alice moved in and kissed his back. “You big baby. Sorry about that. The last man I was with was kind of a mouse in bed.”
“Alice? You never answered me. Why didn’t you finish your contract?”
“It was about time the council remembered what they were made for.” Alice lay back and stared at the ceiling. “What do you know about the creation of the Order of Turaka?”
Logan rolled back toward Alice, letting his hand come to rest on her stomach. “Just that some time in the 12th century the Council of the Nine found a powerful demon named Turaka and swore fealty to it in order to gain god-like powers.”
“Not exactly, hun. They didn’t even know each other. They were fairly powerful demons from all over the world. Each began getting dreams from Turaka, a Demon God who was worshiped by a small group of Maya as their god Torhil, the god of fire.
“These dreams were offers of power from the Demon God himself. All thought the dreams showed details of his temple. None explain where he was exactly. Over years of searching for him, the demons crossed paths more than once. On one such meeting two of these demons shared bits of each of their dreams to find that only by helping each other would they get to Turaka. After years of trying to get each demon to share their information, a pact was made and nine dreams of demons led the group to a small village near Bonampak in Chiapas, Mexico.
“There the group found a guide who said she could lead them to the hidden temple of Torhil. After reaching the temple the group was confronted by the massive Turaka. He seemed pleased that these truly evil creatures could work together and find their way to him. Turaka offered to grant each of them an aspect of his god-like powers in exchange for each to agree to work together as a group in order to destroy the Powers That Be, and never harm or attempt harm to each other.
“Each agreed, and Turaka turned to each and granted the secrets of strength, knowledge, raw magic, everlasting youth and health, transformation, creation, control, Seeing, and the ability to kill with just a word. Turaka then turned to the guide and said, 'As I told you in your dream, I grant you responsibility over my council and you have the power to revoke their powers if they forget their pact with me’.
“As the demons stood in disbelief and wonder at their new abilities, Turaka rested a hand on the guide's shoulder and she and him were gone. Some time after that the Council of the Nine formed the assassin group we have today in order to continue to fight the Powers.”
Alice stopped her tale, “You'd best get dressed. The guards are coming for me.”
Moments later the cell door opened and Augustus stepped in. He watched as Logan put his shirt back on and Alice picked up his katana from the corner. “Logan? Do you always give your weapon to the prisoners?”
Alice slid the scabbard back into Logan’s belt. “Only to the ones he likes,” Alice said, kissing Logan on the cheek.
Alice walked over to Augustus. “I still owe you.”
Augustus pulled out some handcuffs. “Turn around.”
“Are those necessary?” Logan protested.
Augustus locked Alice’s wrists behind her. “What makes you think they're not?”
“Boys, stop fighting. We mustn’t keep the Council waiting.” Alice stepped out of the cell with Augustus gripping the cuffs behind her and Logan following behind.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
***Saturday, December 16th, 2006
Club Vosrazhenie - 11:30 pm***
Adriana and Dominika walked near the front of the near block-long line to get into the exclusive night club. The entrance was guarded by two large bouncers. The men had faces of steel, so to speak, and scowled at everyone. At every patron, they reached out and grabbed their hand. From a little bottle they sprayed the individual’s hand. After a few seconds of nothing, one of the bouncers stamped a mark on the person’s hand and allowed them in.
“The Polyakovs have a strict ‘no vampires’ policy. They’ve been fucking up their clubs for years,” Dom explained.
Drea nodded as they approached the bouncers. The first bouncer, a tall, well-built man, faced them and said with his heavy Russian accent, “Back of line. You vill vait like everyvon else.”
Adriana’s heart lifted. She really didn’t want to go clubbing, and the outfit that Dominika put together for her was making her feel uncomfortable.
Dom smiled at the men and replied, “Ya uzhansno sozhaleyoo. Pozhaluijsta povtorite eto.”
The bouncer sighed and repeated what, Adriana assumed, he said in English. Dominika continued speaking and stated, “Est li Dominika i Adriana Lautari?”
The bouncer murmured something to his partner and they looked over the list. The two nodded and grabbed Dom and Drea’s right hands. Their hands were quickly sprayed with holy water. A few seconds later, they were stamped with a fluorescent stamp of a detailed design.
“C’mon, we’re in!” Dominika told Adriana in Romani as she pulled her towards the door. Drea could hear the groans of frustration from the people in line. But they were soon blocked out from the blast of music, which literally poured from every crack in the building.
Virus’ “Ruchki” was being blast by the DJ, who was clearly another Russian. Dom removed her jacket, revealing a skin-tight, black sleeveless shirt. She smiled and encouraged Adriana to take off her jacket. Slowly and unsure, Drea took off her jacket. Her top was a skin-tight, shiny pink halter top, which had virtually no back. On both girls’ bodies, glitter covered all uncovered skin down to their waist, where they wore low-cut black pants.
“You look great!” Dominika said excitedly.
Adriana sighed uneasily and looked at herself. “Really?” she asked nervously.
Dom took their coats and placed them on a nearby table. “I’d do you,” she said encouragingly.
Drea giggled. PPK’s “21 Century” began to play as Dom dragged Adriana to the dance floor. Some male patrons gave conspicuous smirks and turned back to their current partners. Dominika smiled and turned to Drea.
“Mikey, I think he likes it!” she said jokingly.
Adriana nudged her. They stopped towards the middle. Dom began to dance to the music. Drea stood there, hugging herself. Her younger sister groaned.
“This is a dance club, Drea! You don’t stand there, just looking around! You dance, and eventually, boys will flock,” she explained. Dominika grabbed Adriana’s hands and held them in the air. She began swerving her lower torso to the beat. Dom then continued, “See? Simple as that.”
Drea began to mimic her movements. Within five minutes, a small yet respectable number of men gathered around the sisters. Adriana moved in with a Sicilian looking young man. Dom, meanwhile, had taken up with several suitors, leading each and every one of them on.
From the employee entrance, Morris Giles appeared, quickly brushing off his hands. He slowly closed the door, blocking the view of several dead bouncers lying in the alley, their necks twisted in a full 180° turn. Morris had carefully observed the mob-owned club for several days, noting their technique of catching vampires. The elder Giles then noticed the alley entrance to the club. He then observed how often bouncers entered through this exclusive entrance, and how well trained they were (mainly to see if they were easy to kill).
Morris strolled through the club goers and scanned the room. The room severely lacked wiccas, from what he could tell. The only ones he could sense were in the V.I.P. lounge, with the managers and such. It was common sense to know that it was heavily guarded. The vampire was not a fool. He knew better than to just waltz up there and expect to kill six or seven ruthless and powerful guards that were excessively trained in the harsh winters of Siberia.
Just then, Morris felt a heavy tap on his shoulder. The vampire turned to see a large bouncer there, looking just as intimidating as any other. His arms were crossed and he looked at Morris with cold eyes.
“You are not marked,” he said with his deep Russian accent.
Morris glanced at his hand. It was bare, and it had not been stamped. He looked up and gave an innocent smirk. The elder Giles responded, “My mistake, gospodin. If you will forgive me...”
He moved his arm towards the bouncer, making it seem like he was just going to rest his arm on the Russian’s shoulder. Instead, Morris tightly grasped the bouncer’s head and snapped it in an instant. Morris used his other arm to catch the guard and hold him up.
Searching his pockets, Morris found the ink stamp pad and the stamp. With one hand, he managed to open the booklet like pad and held it to the dead bouncer’s body. He pushed the stamp into the ink and grabbed the stamp handle with his teeth. His right hand closed the pad and slipped it back into the dead man’s pocket. With his teeth, he pushed the stamp onto the top of his right hand. It left a nice, imprinted mark. Morris took the stamp from his mouth and placed it next to the ink pad.
“Um, fellas? Hi,” he began as two other bouncers approached him, “This guy right here seems to have had one too many drinks. If you could kindly remove him from me...”
One young looking bouncer raised his eye brow at Morris and replied, “Ve are not allo’ed to have liquor.”
If Morris wasn’t dead, his heart would begin to race right about now. To his surprise, the second bouncer gave a chuckle. He explained, “Ignore my colleague, sir. He is new, and he has yet to realize ho’ much of a ‘ladies man’ Yakov is. Yakov alvays has ‘admirers’, you see, and he has trouble saying nyet to them. Ve’ll take him to the back room so he can sober up a bit. You enjoy your night, sir.” The bouncers then took the corpse of Yakov and dragged him away.
Morris gave a wave to the men. All this killing was getting him hungry. His bitter hazel eyes scanned the room for a quick meal. He was in the mood for something sweet, so he focused his attention on the women. Suddenly, the vampire set his eyes towards the middle of the room, where a young woman was grinding with possibly four men at once. She was the flavor of the night, he knew this. Morris also knew that no one would really care if she were gone or not.
He slid across the room as Revi Vverh’s “Kroshka Moya” played, his eyes never leaving the brunette. Morris glanced over at the adjacent girl, who was busy with another man with raging hormones. The elder Giles considered munching on this girl, but decided otherwise. He’d save her for another day. Morris managed to move between the boys and faced the young beauty.
Dominika focused her eyes before her. There stood a considerably older man. He didn’t fit in the club. But he was most definitely handsome. Dom moved closer to him. Jealousy painted the faces of the younger men. But she didn’t care. Dominika ran her hand under his shirt and grinned. Once in awhile, she did prefer older men. Morris wrapped his arm around Dom’s waist and pressed her against him. The vampire grabbed her hand and led her from the dance floor.
As they headed for the exit, Dominika grabbed her coat. Morris led her out of the building, when he was stopped by the large bouncers. One of them grabbed Morris’s hand and pressed a stamp on it. There, he left a bold, bright red “X” over his previous fluorescent mark. The bouncer did the same to Dom. She looked quite sad by this, but that all changed once Morris ran his icy fingers across her cheek. Dominika smiled. Morris then led her over to the shadows.
Adriana was dancing when she noticed the large crowd of men around Dominika was gone. In fact, Dom herself was gone. Drea stopped dancing and began walking away. Her partner grabbed her and shouted his question, “Where are you going? Aren’t you having fun?”
Adriana gave a little smile and replied, “I need to find my sister. But, yeah, I did have a pretty good time.” Drea then walked away quickly. She found her jacket and swiftly put it on. Adriana walked out of the club, only to be grabbed by a bouncer. He stamped an “X” over her mark and turned back to the line of people.
Morris began kissing Dominika passionately. She didn’t hold back. Dom wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands gently took her arms off his neck and placed them at her sides. The elder Giles’s kisses moved down toward her pulsating neck. He gave short kisses in the same place. Quietly, Morris vamped out. He slid his razor sharp teeth into her soft skin. Just as Dominika was about to scream, Morris covered her mouth tightly with his hand.
Adriana looked around the area. Besides the pounding of the music and the people on line, it was quiet. She looked around the alley. Suddenly, she heard a noise that came from the shadows. It seemed like struggling of some sort. Drea moved in on the shadows. There stood a vampire, draining a girl. After a closer look, she realized it was Dominika. Adriana began to scream.
Morris immediately looked up to see the girl there. He dropped the girl from his arms onto the ground. She looked very similar to the woman screaming. The vampire smelled closer. They were sisters. His eyes fell upon a shiny object that rested upon the screaming girl’s neck. It was a golden necklace with a small caravan wheel. Fear struck his heart at the realization of what it was. These girls were gypsies.
Several bouncers began to walk towards them. Anger flowed through Morris. He muttered in Romani to Adriana, “Dinilo chai!” Morris then dropped to his knees and placed his hand firmly on the ground. He began murmuring couplets of an ancient language. It fingers began to glow an eerie blue. With a flash, the light shot from Morris’s hand and streamed towards Adriana and the club.
Drea felt a powerful force push against her body. Her body was in a tingly state when she felt something hard hit against her back. She tried to turn her head, but found it difficult. Adriana then realized that she was pinned against the club’s wall, as were all the other patrons. Even the bouncers weren’t strong enough to fight it.
Just then, the strobe and fluorescent lights stopped flickering about the club. In fact, there were no lights at all. The club went completely silent. The only noise was the screams of some of the regulars. Morris gave an evil grin at his handiwork. He got to his feet and ran off, but not before giving a wave of his hand.
Suddenly, Adriana felt the cold pavement hit the side of her face. As she slowly rose, the lights flickered back on. The music started up again. Drea looked over to see her drained sister. She ran over and knelt by her. Adriana grabbed her wrist and checked for a pulse. It was faint, but there was one.
Drea turned around and shouted to the bouncers, “Call an ambulance! This woman’s dying!”
A bouncer was brushing himself off and replied, “Vat do you vant from us? Ve have-”
A of adrenaline went through her veins as she hastily retorted, “JUST DO IT!”
The bouncer, surprised nonetheless, pulled out his cell phone and began dialing 911. Adriana held Dominika as she resisted the urge to cry.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday the 6th December, 2006
00:37am
‘Scrape… scrape-scrape…’
“Careful with that. Don’t break it. I’m going to get something out of this ‘waste of a night’ if it kills me!”
‘BANG’
“AAAHHHH!”
Reah grinned behind her blanket of darkness, a wisping tendril of smoke curled from the still targeting Ares Predator, “Be careful what you wish for, mate.”
Paul’s hand slapped firmly over his upper arm, grasping and pressuring the gaping wound that insisted on bleeding profusely over his desperate fingers, “Fuck!” Clenching his teeth, Paul directed his baleful glare towards the voice and tried to make out the darkened figure, staring down the glowing eyes, “Who do you think you are? And where the fuck are my men!”
Reah gradually clicked her tongue in disappointment, “I’m deeply hurt, Paul. That cuts me right to the bone, ya know?” She smirked, then sighed, “And after I went through all that effort to return the favour you did me when you shot out my arm all those years ago.”
“What?”
“C’mon! Don’t tell me you don’t remember!” Reah jumped down from the truck, landing squarely in front of Paul, “And you should try hiring more of those echidna demony dudes,” she grinned, “They, at the very least, can manage to annoy me.”
Paul’s features darkened, his mouth twisting in a snarl, “So Sabarov was telling the truth.” The hired muscle that had accompanied Paul into the former town now fanned about the confronting pair. “You know, I really had thought you dead… obviously I was mistaken. But you know what?” he grinned wickedly, “I think I’ll enjoy watching you die, a lot more, anyway. Your numbers up, Miss Kossinton.”
Low, menacing growls rumbled from the circling demons as they started to close in. Reah ran a casual glance over the threat before returning a smile back to Paul and leant in close to whisper: “Hey Paulie! Wanna see a trick?”
Blades flashed before Paul even had the time to register the concealed weapons when they tore into his other arm, ripping through muscles and tendons while her other hand followed up from nowhere. Next thing he knew, he was suddenly flying through the air, thrown out of the arena as recklessly as a useless rag, right over the demons' heads.
“Shooting me in the middle of a fight, again, while both your arms are fucked beyond reason?” Reah sniffed. Demons charged, “I’d like to see that!”
SLAM
Forces collided just as Reah managed a leap into the air only a split second beforehand, whipping out her sword in a backwards somersault, bringing ‘life’ to the weapon in her hands. She couldn’t be too sure when she actually landed on the ground; it was as though she had no mass at all as she reached for her centred focus she'd had the whole day to reach.
She had the skill. She had the strength and the speed. She had everything she needed. This was what she was made for. There was no doubt in her mind that they were going to lose, and she was going to win. There was no other way.
Demons and humans fell like flies as Reah danced in and out, weaving her way through the mass, her sword hummed and felt as light as a feather in her hands as she flawlessly wielded the weapon.
The fight was swift as Reah lay quick waste to her opponents. It wasn’t long before the piling carnage that lay at her feet became an obstacle in battle for both her and her remaining two attackers alike.
Another sword…
‘Clang, clang’
‘Swoosh’
‘Clang’
A shift of the footing. A vampire flanked from behind. Reah held off the opposing sword's blow then twirled in a roundhouse to defend her back, turned back to her fencing and pushed off her opponent's force, giving thrust into her backwards flip, sword held close across her waist as she kicked legs over again and again.
Straightening, she targeted the vampire with a killer intent as it charged back with a vengeance, and hurled her sword. Propelled like a boomerang it cut through the air, unhindered in its deadly flight even as it sliced through the demon's neck, diminishing the vampire to dust as it continued unmindfully on its remaining course.
Reah stood appreciatively, admiring her execution, head cocked to the side with a coy smile. Suddenly she lashed upwards with her right arm, creating a loud ‘clang’ as it solidly connected with a sword. Blood coursed freely and steadily out of the fresh wound, running down the blade of the still-connecting sword, right back to the wielder's hands. Reah turned her head to peer over her shoulder, a smug smile spread across her face at the staggered look of her ‘unsuspecting’ attacker.
Up snapped her free hand, darting quickly over her shoulder, snatching her attacker's sword hands and twisting the blade from their grip to fall unceremoniously to the ground, “Now, now! Someone might think you were trying to decapitate me…”
Baring teeth in a snarl, they struggled against her grip, but she only ripped harder at their right arm, spinning them back and wrenching it clear from its socket.
Their pained screams cried out into the night.
“…I never really though that ‘no head’ look really went with my complexion,” Reah continued over the top and reached out to snatch up their other flailing arm, twisting it high behind their back, forcing them high on their toes.
Their screams were suddenly cut short, replaced by a sickly gurgle as their lungs were punctured and blood flowed freely into their throat, blocking the airways.
“Retractable blades… Both a god-send and a bitch, eh?” After a lingering moment's pause, when the weak struggles of her ‘attacker’ had diminished, Reah dropped her hold and let the cooling body slide, dead, off the blades protruding from the back of her hand.
Glancing back over her shoulder, alarm set in and she quickly darted her eyes about the scene, looking for Paul who’d pulled a Houdini while she was busy fighting. *Fuck!*
Quietly, she squatted low to the ground behind the fallen body of a demon and carefully swept her gaze over the land. Chances were that Paul was still nearby - he was in no condition to drive, nor would he be able to survive if he tried a runner on his own back to civilisation.
*The trucks…* Reah locked her gaze on the tall vehicles and switched to her thermo vision. Almost instantly she picked up on the vessel of heat hidden behind them. He was doing something… He was motioning with a… he was loading a gun! That’s what he was doing. He was waiting for her to blindly wander towards the trucks in search of him.
A triumphant smile spread across her face as she reloaded her gun and aimed, “Not until you’ve been neutered of your life, my good mongrel,” she muttered quietly, “This has carried on way too long.”
‘BANG’
Reah watched, again, as the body jolted in shock before it fell limp to the ground with a dull ‘thud’. She sat quietly and merely observed as his body heat slowly drained away, seeping into the ground below till even she, with all her enhancements, could not see them.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday the 6th, December, 2006
05:40am
A soft wind blew, and for the first time that night - actually early morning now - Reah felt its chilling bite that managed to cut through both her secure coat and fitted armour. The cold dead eyes staring up at her only roused reminiscence of her past…
…And now she’d ultimately just changed the course of the entire future as she knew it! The people she knew… They wouldn’t know her anymore. And the entire mission? Well, now that she’d completed it, technically it wasn’t ever in existence now - at least it never would be… It only existed, now, in her own little world. Who could listen to her and understand?
She wouldn’t even receive any thanks for this, either! No cheers. No medals. No pats on backs. No sex. No nothing!
Reah frowned and turned over her hands, palms to ground. The slits were still there! Blades still shot out! She threw a fist at the truck's outer panelling and still managed to puncture a hole clear through! Yet technically, the operations had never taken place! There was no need of her in that future any more… And now, there initially never even was!
...
“WHAT THE HELL DO I DO NOW, HUH?” Reah yelled out into the darkened morn, her features strained in a mask of confusion. She was thinking too much.
Sighing, she slumped her back against the side of the truck, rolling her head till she was looking down at the lifeless heap of Paul’s corpse at her side.
How could anything about something so fragile have been so threatening and powerful?
“Three years…” she started talking softly to her completed mission, “Nearly three whole years I’d spent in that hell. Two years, seven months and fourteen days!” Reah sniffed, chuckling cynically under her breath, “Two years, seven months and fourteen days that don’t even exist… Never did, and never will.”
She sighed, “I really hate temporal mechanics!”
Shaking her head, Reah finally pushed up off the truck's support and stepped across Paul’s scattered legs to softly kick away his clutching arm.
A roughly carved vase, heavily degraded from ages of wear, tumbled from his lifeless grip and rolled, open and vulnerable, onto the ground.
“Well,” Reah sighed again as she re-aimed her Ares Predator for the last time that night, “Time to complete phase two. Like grandma used to say,” her lips cracked an inch into the slightest smirk, “there’s nothing better at the end of a day's hard yakka than destroying a priceless piece of the world’s history.”
‘BANG’
“SHIT!” Reah cursed as she protected her eyes from the ceramic shards that exploded, wickedly, straight up into her face, “Ah, fuck!” she pulled her arm away from her eyes, brushing it across her cheek and frowning at the tiny shards that had scratched her coat and slashed shallow cuts into her unprotected skin.
Shrugging it off, she started lowering her arm back to her side and sniffed, “Ah well! I suppose it was some kind of ancieaAAAAHH!”
A burst of liquid light blazed upwards from the shattered vase, screaming into the heavens and burning her retinas, blinding her eyes before her enhanced reflexes even had the chance to shield them from the exploding light that managed to pierce through the black morning, lighting the area as though it were broad daylight. The endlessly reaching beacon could be seen from miles around by anyone who happened to be awake.
But who was at this time?
As suddenly as the light erupted; it shot out of existence with an thunderous boom that rumbled throughout the shadowed clouds in a fury.
There was a small opening for a moment's chance to recuperate - but only a moment - as the air cleared, like a final breath before - as suddenly and unwelcome as being forcefully dunked under water - some unseen, oppressive force hurtled back to the ground, colliding into the Earth. A shockwave blast swept outwards across the open land knocking Reah clear off her feet with such a force that threw her fifteen metres off the ground, stealing the very warmth of her blood as it rushed right through her, dissolving into the cloaked horizon….
…Finally; a peace settled on the land again.
Reah lay sprawled on the ground, her breath coming in heavy gasps as she inhaled the Earth’s dusty surface. Coughing, she shakily forced herself upright till she was standing firmly on two legs - took a deep breath - and exhaled.
*Ok… What the fuck was tha..?* Reah darted her glance about to take in the scene. Nothing had moved, nothing had changed, nothing was disturbed in the slightest. Not even the air about her stirred, as though whatever phenomenon had just taken place had stolen it away. But she doubted it.
Something was coming. Something was always coming, and she greeted it with a groan.
“Did I ever mention how much I hate deathly stillnessess?” Reah sighed heavily in frustration, again, after a few seconds' pause that seemed to last an age.
As if to answer her call, a soft wind blew across the plain… then changed. A thousand tiny shards from the shattered vase started to dance circles in the distance before her eyes.
“Ah, cra-”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
PREVIOUSLY ON LABN:
Mid-dream, Tyler is shown to be sleeping in a church.
Saint George Cathedral
September 16, 2005
2:01 PM
The sound of breaking wood was never so loud to Maurice Placidus as when he watched his friend and oldest student, the newly ordained Father Alexander Rossey, get thrown through seven pews. More horrifying than the sound, however, was when the Father broke the seventh pew and came to the fallen statue of Saint Maurice, and was impaled on the marble sword.
“Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, priest.” Maurice’s attacker looked, on the surface at least, like just another man. Placidus, a sixty-four year old priest with a bad back, towered over the boy. The attacker’s arms were stick thin, as if they’d never seen any manner of labor, and his head was round enough that if covered in leather it could pass for a basket ball. But having seen this waif toss a three hundred pound man into a broken marble statue , Placidus found himself shrinking back as the attacker approached.
“Stay away from me, demon.” Placidus backed into a corner, trying to stand up and make a stand. But as he tried, he looked out on his church, his home, and saw nothing but ruin. The seating had been smashed, the busts destroyed, even the crucifix was ruined, with the head of the savior laying three feet to Maurice’s left.
He had trouble finding hope.
“Demon?” The waif’s voice was nearly a laugh. “Is that what you think I am?”
“What else could you be?” Placidus’s voice broke as the man turned. From his face, the priest couldn't imagine him being old enough to vote. “Your strength is unnatural.”
“That it is. But do better, Maurice, or your death will be far more painful than that of your friend. You know what I want.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.” The boy charged the priest, lifting him by the throat. Placidus struggled to breath and kicked at the boy, having no effect on his grip. “Do you think me stupid, priest?”
“No.”
“Good. Because I know magics other than those of your lord when I see them. There was none of your salvation in what the children outside had for me.” The boy tightened his grip, choking the priest. “You’ve been prepared for my coming for years, haven’t you? You, Maurice Placidus are the keeper of the Body of Lazarus. I am Milaeno, last progeny of Baradon, and I WANT MY CRYSTAL!”
A Dirt Road
The same time
Tyler Hyatt had been driving for the majority of the last twenty-four hours and it was beginning to wear on him. It had been four hours since he’d seen anything except vast fields of farmland and his eyes were growing tired. But Tyler pressed on, committed.
Tyler had decided to take the advice he received from Victor Tek and rest. That meant he had to leave LA, go under, while his wounds healed. So Tyler stole a truck and went south, in search of something smaller, something that didn’t appear on the maps, somewhere that the Balance could not find him, but still a place where Tyler knew that if he was found, he could mount a decent defense. That meant there was more driving to come.
Tyler’s thoughts lurked on the man who’d held the sword that rested on the passenger seat, and a house outside of Madrid. The visions of his wife, and Ryan, and his son kept Tyler’s mind so busy that had he not been so tired, and decided to pull to the side of the road and rest, Tyler would have missed the mess of St. George’s Cathedral. It was a small, modest church at the end of a dirt road diverting to the ring off of the highway. Just under half a mile away, Tyler could make out two bodies in front of the building clearly enough.
Tyler pulled his hand off the keys, where he’d been set to turn the truck off, and waited.
*Leave it alone, Tyler. It’s already too late, and fuck if the police have to be on their way.* Tyler kept thinking, talking himself out of any intervention, when something slid out of a hole in the church wall, a large white stone, and what looked like a third corpse. Resigned, Tyler turned his truck onto the dirt and drove toward the church.
As he approached, the figure that came out with the stone became clearer, with Tyler convinced it was a corpse. When he reached the church, Tyler didn’t even need a second look. Instead, he drew his gun and hit the wall, sweeping into the hole to spot Milaeno and the priest in the far corner.
“PUT HIM DOWN!” If the sight of what looked to be a twelve year old holding an elderly gentlemen off the ground with one hand around the victim’s throat struck Tyler as strange, it didn’t show. His voice was commanding, more than enough to control any situation. And it seemed to work, as the boy dropped the priest.
“He’s down.” The boy stayed in place, completely motionless.
“Step back. Now!” Tyler crept forward, intent on moving to check on the priest.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Milaeno stepped back, his head turning to lock his eyes on Tyler. When their gazes met, the boy blinked and disappeared.
“What the…?” Tyler's gun had lowered an inch when the priest screamed.
“Behind you!”
Tyler spun, gun out, striking at the demon’s head. Milaeno blocked and grabbed Tyler's wrist. He twisted, hammering a fist into Tyler’s forearm, forcing the gun to the floor. His grip tight, Milaeno drew back an elbow to shatter the bones of Tyler’s arm. It was cut off, however, when Tyler beat his to it, hammering an elbow into the boyish face and dragging a thumb into his eye.
Milaeno let Tyler go, immediately stumbling from a Tyler punch. Blocking the next attack, the demon crashed inward and blasted Tyler’s heart with a plam strike, staggering the soldier. Tyler flew back, slamming into the wall, but kept his footing. Still against the wall, his arms straightened to make way for two foot long knives, and stuck at Milaeno with them. The boy ducked the strike, catching Tyler by the arm and breaking his left wrist.
The ensuing pain drew a wild swing from Hyatt, which was easily ducked, leaving Tyler’s weapon open to be sent to the floor.
Milaeno continued his attack, striking Tyler in the throat. As the solider’s hand shot to his neck, Milaeno struck low, in the ribs. Tyler howled, and was slammed into the Choir of Saints, next to George. The soldier all but collapsed at the impact, letting the demon’s follow up blow crush itself into his patron saint’s face.
Tyler pulled himself up, and attempted to crawl away, but Milaeno ripped the bust from its perch and shattered it over his opponent’s head. The demon pull Tyler to his feet and head butted him, bringing Tyler back to the surface.
Milaeno dropped him again, and stared at his own hands.
“Body and Soul… you’ve held them both.” The demon put his foot to Tyler’s throat. “WHERE ARE MY CRYSTALS?”
The fight, and this realization took complete control of the demon, diverting the entirety of Milaeno’s attention to Tyler. As such, he hadn’t see Placidus make a run for it. The priest had gone, intent on saving his own life. However, as he made it outside, he fell victim to his code, and decided he couldn’t leave the hero, Maurice’s savior, to die alone. So the priest search for any edge that might turn the tide.
And found the sword in Tyler’s truck.
Placidus took it and charged back into the church, screaming bloody murder and charging the demon, he struck, intent on murder, and saving the life of the man who’d saved his. But the demon countered easily, disarming the priest and lifting him by the lapels.
“A sword? Honestly, Maurice, do better.” Milaeno’s tone was the equivalent of a vocal smirk.
Tyler reached full consciousness as Milaeno moved the priest to the wall. Thinking quickly, Hyatt reached into his coat and took hold of a stake. He threw it hard, at the boy’s knee, striking home. The demon dropped the priest and buckled, as Tyler pulled himself to his feet.
Rounding, Milaeno advanced on his opponent, while Tyler fuddled, trying to get his second gun. Milaeno was a step away when Tyler had it, upside down, pinky on the trigger and fired. The demon staggered back as Tyler emptied the clip into him.
But he did not fall. Instead, the staggering stopped and the demon regained his footing. Milaeno turned his head and charged at Tyler who rolled, dodging the attack. On the roll, Tyler took Ryan’s sword. Coming up, Tyler stuck.
The sword pierced the demon’s chest, protruding from his back. Milaeno did more than stumble, he fell into the wall, cutting through the wall.
Tyler and the priest were both in too much pain to notice the utter confusion on the boy’s face.
“How did you…?” The demon quieted, exploding into a bright red light, which held the room for twenty seconds before it went out, and there was nothing left but dust.
The fight over, Tyler coughed, and saw his blood on the floor, leaking out of his mouth. The then world went black
A Room
The next morning
Tyler awaked to a vision of blinding white light, and for a moment he thought he was dead. But as the seconds passed and his vision cleared, Tyler could see the stucco on the roof and knew he was in the hospital. He tried to get up, but felt a hand force him down. And, since he lacked the strength to stop whoever it was, Tyler let it.
“Easy son. You’re all right.” Placidus sat beside Tyler, where he’d been since the day before.
“I can’t, they’ll know I’m here.” Tyler tried to rise again, this time blocking the priest’s hand. But as he did, he saw the door, and realized he was wrong.
This was someone’s bedroom.
“I know your kind son. All on the run form something.” Placidus chuckled lightly, but kept a solemn tone. “All three of my boys the thing killed were criminals once. Made it my business to put them back on a path to righteousness.” The father laughed genuinely when his comment only raised Tyler’s wariness. “Relax, boy. You saved my life. The least I can do is help you keep yours.”
“Where the hell am I?” Tyler stayed cautious.
“My home. The doctors believed me when I said you’d recover best out of the hospital.”
“Because it's true.”
“I thought.”
“You thought?”
“Someone as heavily armed as you doesn’t want to have records on him.”
“Right.”
“I did however, call this number.” The priest reached to a bedside table and handed Tyler a photo. “A woman answered, I assume the one in the picture. She said…”
“I need your phone.” Tyler’s voice alarmed the priest.
“What?”
“She can’t come here.”
“Why?”
“It’s not safe.”
“W…?”
Before Placidus could make more than one sound, Tyler shouted at him. “Don’t ask, just get me the fucking phone.”
“Son, the woman isn’t coming. She anticipated that. She just asked to hear from you at the first available time. I don’t think she trusted me.”
“Not surprising. What’s your name?”
“Maurice Placidus.”
“Tyler Hyatt.”
“Well, Tyler. You’re under orders not to engage in stressful activities. So why don’t you lie back down, while I fetch the phone so you can call your friend.” Tyler watched the priest stand and exit, and since he lacked the strength to stand, took the advice.
Then resigned himself to a lengthy recovery.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Tuesday - December 5th, 2006
Alice stood before the great doors of the council chamber. She knew that this would be the last time she entered the chamber as a member of the Order of Turaka. One way or another it ended here. As the doors opened, Alice felt something strange. It wasn’t fear, or hate. It was a sudden calmness, the likes of which she had never felt before. At the moment she knew she was right. She had her way out.
Alice, Augustus and Logan entered the room. The door slowly, and with a loud locking noise, closed behind them. Alice looked at the Council; each were strange and rare demon types from an elder time. No one knew them by the old names any longer - for a thousand years they have been the Council.
The nine council members sat on the stone steps of what appeared to be a circular outer wall of the round ziggurat, which filled this gigantic chamber. When the group settled on their feet one of the members spoke. “Alicenoko, the Council has decided that your actions are intolerable and cannot excused. Some of the Council had hoped to salvage our relationship, seeing that both your assignments have been completed, although not by yourself. After long deliberation on this matter we have decided that your services in the past don’t make up for this transgression, and you are to be immediately terminated for not following the Orders and will of Turaka.”
Alice grinned. “Will of Turaka? Hardly! The will I was ordered to follow wasn’t Turaka’s. It was that of a human. A human named Xavier, a so-called demon hunter. When did Turaka start taking orders form humans?”
“Girl, your silly attempts to dodge your fate by legal trickery will get you nowhere. The Council has ruled and you are to be executed.”
One bellowed, “As a member of the first order you will be executed by the only living member at that level.”
Alice looked at Logan. Her eyes wondered if he had it in him to kill her. Logan’s hand rested on his katana. The very katana Alice had used to save his life more than once in the long years the two had known each other. Alice knelt; her head seemed high with pride. Her eyes stared at the Council.
As Logan slowly unsheathed his sword, he heard Alice’s soft voice. “You don’t have to do this.”
Logan drew his weapon back. “I’m sorry, Bun.” And with a soft whistling noise, his sword cut cleanly through Alice’s neck.
Alice’s eyes shifted from the Council to Logan. She turned her still-attached neck to him.
“I’m sorry you did that, hun.” Logan’s eyes widened. “Abis ni ti noxintil cannot hurt me, love - like all of the weapons I make. I’m sorry you chose your one fate.”
Alice licked her lips and her face saddened. “Zonbin arwith betix arbin.” She repeated that phrase. Logan suddenly felt the skin on his back burst. He fell to the ground writhing in pain.
“What have you done to me?” Logan managed to say between screams.
“Remember the scratches. Primitive practice runes, hun. They have no power, but the pain will keep you out of my way for the moment.”
A voice came from the Council. “Augustus, kill her!”
Alice rolled backward sliding her legs thought her arms, bringing them to her front. Then with a quick kick up she hopped to her feet and charged at Augustus. The pair grabbed each other by the throat. Alice’s cuffed hands griped Augustus’s neck with all her anger and hate, as did his around hers. Then Augustus felt something more then just Alice’s grip. Heat. He felt the blood in his neck begin to boil and his skin began to burn. Augustus screamed his last breath as the meat in his neck cooked and tore from his shoulders. Alice dropped his head and parted her wrists as the metal cuffs melted from her arm.
Alice walked over to Logan and picked the rune-covered katana out of his shaking hand. She looked at the Council as the blade quickly turned red then white-hot. “It’s time for you to remember who you work for.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
*** November 25, 2006 ***
*** Watchers' Headquarters, England***
“Here are the files you asked for on the situation in Los Angeles, First Elder.” An efficient woman in a charcoal gray suit set a stack of folders and papers on the meticulously tidy mahogany desk.
“Thank you, Ms. Walstead,” Ambrose smiled as he opened the first folder.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, Sir?” the woman, Ms. Walstead, asked.
“This will be sufficient,” Ambrose replied. “Feel free to go. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Ms. Walstead turned and quietly departed, but Ambrose Delancre was absorbed in the material she’d brought in even before the door clicked softly shut behind her. The first two files were not new information to him. They were on the Watchers currently in place in Los Angeles, with a great deal of information on Amanda Blaise and Jessica Travers in particular. As he read over the more recent entries, those on the battle with The Brotherhood, Ambrose was both impressed and aggravated. On the one hand, Amanda - Daye as she preferred - and her ragtag group of companions had fared remarkably well against four of the most despicable, powerful vampires in existence. They had managed to cut that dastardly quartet in half, destroying both Dathan, the ancient warmonger, and Nicholas, his high priest progeny. That was no mean feat considering they were a band of loosely connected misfits, with none of the resources of the likes of the Council or even most Covens.
On the other hand, although this group of crusaders in L.A. were definitely not to be discounted, their actions of late, including the dispatching of The Brotherhood, put a serious crimp in many of Delancre’s own plans. The time was fast approaching when he and his army would be poised to take over the world, and the last thing he needed was this puissant company of do-gooders messing up the works. It was high time he did something about it, about them. It would be an added bonus to bring his wayward lamb back to the flock, so to speak.
Ambrose continued to read, sipping slowly from a cup of hot tea that Ms. Walstead had left on the desk. He had just lifted the cup to his lips when he flipped open the file on the “bunny” and he was so shocked that he slammed it back down, sloshing scalding liquid onto his hand.
“Well, I’ll be damned…” he wore a bemused smile as he continued to read through the file. “What an unexpected turn of events. Perhaps… Well, I’ll have to think on that a bit more…”
Ambrose set the file aside and opened the next one in the stack. He was once again shocked. “Morris Giles, hmmm.”
He sat back in his chair, staring at the photograph before him. “Isn’t she lovely?” Ambrose’s voice was a purr as he considered the demon Giles had abandoned the Council for. The girl appeared human, with the exception of those eyes. Ambrose felt that familiar stirring as he gazed into the green, catlike eyes of the demoness.
“Alessa Hunt,” he murmured, stroking one finger down the cheek in the picture. His whole body hummed as he studied her. She was beautiful and exotic, and most importantly she was a demon. Ambrose couldn’t help himself. For as long as he could remember, it had been this way. The others he’d trained with had never suspected his… perversion. Ambrose Delancre wasn’t revolted by the inhuman creatures the Watchers opposed. He didn’t find claws, or scales, or even strange appendages to be frightening or disgusting in any way. On the contrary, demons really turned him on. The more alien a demon was, the more fascinated and aroused he became.
Delancre knew that his dirty little secret would cause him problems, so from the beginning he’d done his best to cover it up. He’d been harsher, crueler than others he worked with, and he’d discovered something even more sinister about himself. As much as demons did it for him there was something that did it even more, a demon at his mercy. Thus, he began to cull from the ranks of those he’d captured a virtual harem of demonic beauties to service his needs. The more afraid they were, the more he enjoyed it. He especially liked when they begged or cried. He even liked it on the rare occasions when he forgot himself and killed one of them. They were, after all, less than he and therefore their deaths were unimportant in the grand scheme.
Unfortunately, now that he was First Elder he had to be even more circumspect. Alessa Hunt wasn’t just any old demon, though. She was a Verbati. That meant she had the ability to change her shape. This intrigued Ambrose even more. He could make her his mistress and the other Elders would never be the wiser. In private, she could in turn be anything he desired. What an unbelievably titillating concept. No wonder Morris had sacrificed so much for the girl.
“I must have her,” Ambrose said aloud. He set her picture aside and picked up the phone. There were some very skilled hunters in Los Angeles, and he knew one or two who wouldn’t mind the contracts the First Elder of the Watchers’ Council could send their way if he was so inclined.
Ambrose paused and turned to pick up the other folder again, the one on Alicenoko. He would have to carefully consider how to handle that one. She was among Daye's friends and that might be the weakness he'd been waiting so long to explore, but the question was how. He would have to think on it. Just as he would have to carefully consider who best to send after Alessa Hunt. Yes, First Elder Delancre had a lot to think on, but that was as he liked it.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday the 6th, December, 2006
05:56am
***
“Reah… Reah! Reah, wake up!”
Hands shook her overturned shoulder, nudging her to rouse from sleep. *Sleep? What? When did I go to sleep?* Groaning, Reah opened her eyes dazedly and sat up in her position to look around. Fluke, a sharp, blood crimson haired woman with purpley-blue tattooed lips, cat's eyes, and the deadly pale grace of a vampire was crouching over her - she used to go by the name Meh, until she disappeared on a run, the party assuming her completely dead when they abandoned her, head only attached by a few strands.
Dozens of other runners were in the same state as her; waking up, looking around in confusion at the large, open room they were confined in. Reah would’ve guessed it some grand hall for its high ceilings and tall fireplace at the far end, steadily crackling. *A real fire?* Reah frowned, *Don‘t get to see those very often.* Something told her, though, that they weren’t here to be entertained.
Memory of the run they’d left on suddenly returned to her and she bolted straight upright onto her feet at full alert, *Paul! Shit!* “What happened? Where are we?”
“I think you guys were gassed,” Meh, no, Fluke replied casually, “Just after that guy escorted us into that room, I heard a hissing and you guys started dropping like flies.”
Reah frowned back at Fluke, “So how’d they get you then? Oh!” Reah nodded in realisation to the bump Fluke pointed out on her cranium. “So have you found any ways out of here, yet?” Reah continued on, surveying all the rousing bodies: all that of her friends and fellow runners… and a few she didn’t recognise.
“Nope, not yet. There’s only that one door at the far end,” she pointed in the opposite direction to the fireplace, “and that’s heavily guarded by guar…ds…”
Fluke frowned at Reah’s suddenly retreating back that had just turned about and left her mid-sentence. “Reah?”
“Dre’an?” Reah called weakly to the sprawling half-elf amidst the bodies. She crouched by the moaning form, laying a careful hand on his bruised arm.
“Reah?” Reah winced at his pained cough, “What are you doing here? You… you guys have to get out of here. She’s coming.”
“What?” Her face was now a continuous frown. This was confusing, “She? …Did Paul have a sex change? …What?”
Dre’an coughed again, his chest shuddering with suppressed, painful laughter, amused at her fumbling, then quickly returned to all seriousness and tried to get to his feet, Reah quick to help his struggles, “No. It’s-”
***
The dancing shards grew into a whizzing whirlwind of shrapnel, faster and faster. An eerie mist suddenly formed in the midst of the shards out of thin air, engulfing the tiny materials and growing larger and larger still till it towered over Reah, the still raging wind whipping rogue strands of her hair wildly into her face as she stammered backwards gaping up at the ominous presence that drowned all her senses.
She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and goose-bumps break out all over her body as she blindly fumbled for her Vibro Sword. Her eyes never left the domineering body of mist before her; curses streamed through her head and spilling freely from her mouth, their fluency increasing when realisation dawned that she hadn’t retrieved her sword from earlier.
The wind started to die, and with it the swirling mist materialised, taking form.
Reah felt a lifetime of meals jump into her throat, ready to choke her if she didn’t throw them up then and there, as she now stood face to face with the all to familiar monster that had plagued her life and haunted her dreams…
“ALICE!” The demoness' body soared over the massacre, leaving only a split second chance for the dawning inevitability to wash over Reah when her frantic eyes caught sight of the pipes she....
“No!” she had to snap out of it.
Reah glared levelly at the demon before her. It towered three feet above her, but Reah couldn’t care. The serpentine creature hissed menacingly as it writhed stiffly out of its ancient containment, forked tongues protruding from two cruel mouths lined with pointed, razor sharp teeth, Medusa like hair writhing atop it head… and Reah still couldn’t care! It had sickly blotched skin of peaches and white all over its cruel body, with three long-tipped, razor-sharp claws extending off each hand. The part about this creature that disturbed Reah the most was its feminine quality. It towered before her, fully exposed. Every last inch of its form - aside from the two mouths and three fingers - screamed unmistakeably what it was, but twisted ever so that it made Reah sick.
“Proserpexa,” Reah sneered its name, “Why couldn’t you just get the hint, and fuck OFF!”
The piercing gaze of the demoness settled on Reah for a moment as if weighing every last inch of her - flesh and morals - then smiled wickedly, the haunting laughter echoing from as it spoke…
“The Age of man is over.”
The thunderous roar reverberated off the hall's walls, laughter of a woman screaming, children crying cackled with it as bodies were thrown several metres off their marks with a single sweeping gesture of the Demon Queen as Reah watched in horror, emptying clip after clip after clip till it became evident that no weapon, let alone her Ares Preditors, was going to penetrate this beast's hide.
*Krogen. No!* Reah’s legs pumped beneath her as she re-holstered her guns next to the remaining clips and unsheathed her Vibro Sword over her back, sprinting desperately to her Fixer’s aid as he broke through the bloody massacre to reach the demoness. “KROGEN, NO!”
She tripped and glanced back at her foot only to be horrified by the sight of her previous Fixer’s twisted body she’d managed to tangle her legs in; wherever his head was though, was yet to be discovered. Reah felt herself dry-retch and tore her eyes away to look back up to Krogen attacking the Demoness, just in time to see her crack him solidly across the head with the staff that suddenly appeared in her hands, a powerful black energy emanating from its end as it shattered his skull, splattering the bloody pulp far across the room, decorating the runners and guards - it seemed they’d got more than they bargained for when they were set up to guard them - that struggled to fight for their lives.
Explosions started rocking the hall now, as care for others went straight out the window and everyone just threw everything they had at the beast in sheer determination to see it abolished off the plains of this Earth.
Reah charged again, black energy exploding from the demon queen's staff, webbing off in multiple directions. One streamed directly toward Reah and she dived off to the side just in time for it to shoot past her, striking the minotaur behind her. She winced as she watched its effects instantly char its victim to a black and bloody corpse that fell unceremoniously to the floor.
She then watched from a distance as the demoness seemed to strike savagely at some invisible being that attacked it. Horrific screams from the far end of the hall, further down from Reah, alerted her to a couple of the shamans and one of the mages, spasming uncontrollably in an unconscious state as deep gaping wounds mystically slashed over their bodies without any sign of them actually being physically attacked.
Blood and pulp sprayed Reah from the demon queen’s direction as amused laughter pierced through the air… and something else… some other laughter that was not that of the demonesses.
A holographic image suddenly appeared before Reah, blocking the beast from sight as he smiled down at Reah in bemusement, “So, it is you,” his chuckle was almost as demonic as the beast's, “I’d heard rumors… but you know how it is nowadays, don’t you?”
“Paul,” Reah growled at him and lashed out, whipping out her sword and sliced through his torso, but it merely passed straight through, no harm.
“Ha-ha! Ah, I’m almost half glad you weren’t killed when you should’ve been: I wouldn’t be able to enjoy this moment here, right now!” He glanced about the massacre about him, then turned back to Reah, “And I believe I have you to thank for this turnout! Did I mention?” He grinned wickedly, “She grows stronger with every life she takes… And so do I.”
Reah charged at the demoness, dealing blow after blow, shooting blades out of her hands and hacking into her hide before she was gripped and thrown off. Reah didn’t delay before screaming back her, crying out for all those she’d lost to this beast and continued fighting hand to hand, one on one, trading powerful blow after powerful blow one right after the other…
“…So you see, patience really is a virtue!”
“Shut up-”
“Ah uh!” Paul cut her off, waggling his finger in front of her, “No interruptions.” He glanced over his shoulder and returned back to her with a wicked smile, “It’s time for you to die… Again.”
And with that he blinked out of existence leaving Reah staring face to face with a pulsating stream of black energy growing larger and larger as it screamed right for her. She clenched her eyes shut and somewhere in the distance, Reah thought she could hear someone screaming her name… - Sara? - but it didn’t matter: she’d given up. This was it. This was as far as her life would take her.
She was never going to see home again.
She felt something solid collide right into her and she let out a pained scream that seemed to echo right beside her, the rank smell of burning flesh filling the air.
Reah felt as if she was being torn back, her flesh was on fire as she screamed, faster—and—faster—and—faster, speeding backwards as fast as the light, she could hear her own screams reverberating inside her head off an unseen mental and physical force…
“NO!” Reah screamed at the Demoness with a powerful vengence that raged within her. She owed this creature pain and death, and she was going to deal it.
They’d been trading blows for a good ten minutes now, but Reah’s strikes suddenly grew in their force, flashing about like a magician's illusionary show. One moment she was dealing a sideways scissor kick high into the demoness' serpentine skull; the next she was flipped over the back, slicing up the beast's spine, raking tiny spasms through her body before the demon queen spun back to face her, throwing a backhand Reah managed to dodge with a deft grace that impressed even herself!
She could win this! She knew it! She had a chance: she was going to save the world from ever having to witness this hell-bitch!
“You seem to be struggling,” Reah managed the words through the strain of concentration, her smile malevolent as, in that brief flickering moment, she foresaw her victory, “You’re not as strong as I remember you, Prosy.”
The serpentine demoness ignored her sarky comments and concerned herself only with the kill.
An opening…
‘CRACK’
Reah’s head spun, blood spurting from her nose as she was knocked off balance by the powerful blow. *Shit!*
‘CRACK’
‘SLASH’
‘SNAP!’
“AAAHHHH!” Reah stumbled to the side, clutching her ribs. She couldn’t see straight; blood seeped into her vision, turning the world a shade of red. She needed to recuperate…
The two mouths of Proserpexa began to cackle maniacally, "Pathetic human. You dare to think you could stand against my might? The only reason you aren’t dead yet is because my long slumber has made me slow." The demon queen stalked forward, raising her clawed hand to finish off her enemy.
Reah’s eyes widened in horror, a slight tremor running through her body in those last few moments before the deadly strike fell… The world was choked in a deathly silence as she saw her end draw near… time slowed…
-
…
… light as a feather…
…
‘THUD’
Ominous dread suddenly overwhelmed Reah to the point of hopelessness and she crumpled on the ground, giving in to her broken body. So much pain and death; she saw it all now, right before her eyes. The bloody massacre of her past would be the whole world’s new future…
“No!” Reah coughed, splattering rich, coppery blood from her mouth to pool on the sandy earth, absorbing slowly into the ground. Her face was a mask of pain and sadness. Thick veins of blood choked her throat, it was all she could taste, making it painful to swallow, making it hard to breathe. “What have I done!”
Painful memories flooded her hazing vision. She was supposed to save those people! And now she’d just… “No…”
She had to keep going. Had to warn her friends. Had to save them… Save Quin: she couldn’t leave her to the hell she had to witness. She couldn’t leave anyone to it.
Desperately, Reah forced her body to work, but she couldn’t stand, she couldn’t even get to her knees. Painfully she scraped over the ground, dragging her body across the rugged earth as she attempted to crawl to her escape. She had to go on!
Signals were sent out. Poplar needed to be warned…
“Mmmpphhhhfff?”
“Run…” she coughed painfully, her voice trembling, “Save your souuaAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”
The scream tore from her lungs, casting a haunting chill on the morning that pierced through the air as she felt the very fibres of her being rip apart by the lancing force that suddenly struck her back. She was flipped over, her back arched painfully, violent spasms raking her body as all her cyberware - connected to every muscle and her central nervous system - simultaneously broke down, twisting and tearing her up from the inside…
Then… the world began to quieten, and soon, even her own screams were lost as she began to drift into a calming oblivion; the pain and horror-filled walls of her hard and screwed up life broke down till there was only her… Darkness clouded over her life…
“Where are you? Where are you? …There you are!” Shaun chuckled merrily as he swept the child up off the ground. The girl’s own laughter joined in as her father spun her about in a wizzy-dizz. A smiling woman appeared from behind.
“Mummy! Mummy! Dad showed me his katana today!”
The man shied from his wife, darting a warning glance to his innocent daughter, “Quiet you.”
“I’m sure he did,” Carie chuckled, punching her husband lightly in the arm, “But it’s time for bed now. Say goodnight!”
The child rolled her eyes and tiptoed up to give her mother and father kisses in turn, “Nighty night mum, nighty night dad.”
“Hmm, sweet dreams Reanna. See you soon!”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday, 6th December 2006 – 5:56am
Poplar Avenue
Moonlight streamed through Tash’s bedroom window and fell on her sleeping form. She slept deeply, until a shrill ringing disturbed her slumber.
She fumbled blindly for the receiver, knocking it from its cradle, then dragged it to her ear and slurred into it. “Mmmpphhhhfff?”
“Run…” Reah’s voice sounded mechanical, like it was relayed… The slug, Tash realised as sleep dulled senses gradually came online. She heard a cough, and the voice trembled – it sounded as though Reah were in considerable pain. “Save your souuaAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”
The scream woke Tash fully. She yelled down the phone line, “Reah? Reah! …REAH!!”
But there was only silence.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 8th, 2006
Alhambra Cemetery
1:30 am
The moonlight was dim as it shone down over Alhambra cemetery. The light was half masked by the cloudy night sky barely enough to illuminate the scene below. Chance and Alessa were battling vampires. They were following one of Bob’s leads on Morris. *Not the first to be wrong,* thought Alessa as she punched her stake into the vampire strongly, dusting him; only to be hit by another with enough force to send her sprawling to the ground.
Chance ducked from a left hook delivered to the right of his face giving him the opportunity to spin the vampire around so that its back was facing him. He gave the vamp a strong kick to the waist sending his opponent into the wall of a big crypt and then slumping to the ground. Then he quickly dusted the vampire, the lengthy fight finally over, and turned to see Alessa slightly struggling. A vampire was holding her down on the ground while she tried to reach for her stake only inches away from her fingertips. Chance promptly grabbed the stake and plunged it deep into the back of the vampire, piercing its unbeating heart and turning it to dust. Alessa got up coughing from the vamp dust she just inhaled.
“Maldición, remind me next time to wear clothes that don’t show the dirt up so much!” she said patting her clothes as clouds of dust emitted from them.
Chance laughed as he ruffled her dark hair out of dust too. He lingered on her cheek, caressing her, before looking around. “I reckon Morris is not around,” he said, assessing the now deserted cemetery.
“No, I guess that was another empty lead.” She shuddered, giving her pants a final pat.
She looked at him and smiled. “And thanks for that." Slightly embarrased she whispered, "You were right, I need you around to save me.” After their argument three days ago she hadn’t gone hunting alone, since Chance had insisted on accompanying her. She was glad he did.
“You don’t need saving,” he said, guessing what was in her mind. “Just a little help sometimes.”
Chance looked down to her, his handsome features shadowed in the moonlight and his penetrating eyes staring deep into hers the way they always did. She felt like he could see her soul, the very essence of who she was. The entire world just melted away and there were only herself and him. They leaned into each other and Chance’s arms slid around Alessa’s waist. She raised hers around his neck as they passionately kissed in the stillness of the night.
“That’s nice,” sounded a inhuman voice behind them. “I had forgotten human love.”
They broke the embrace quickly and turned around to face the voice. First there was nothing to see but soon a figure emerged from the shadows. It was a demon. *A huge demon,* thought Alessa as she took a step back. It must stand more than eight feet tall and they hadn’t spotted it at first because it was wearing dark armour. Even its face was covered by a skull-like helmet.
“Good God,” Chance said.
*Where the fuck did it come from? Talk about Random Encounter. I’ve never seen anything like it… more importantly, how do I kill it?* he thought, reaching down to grab his sword. As his hand closed around it, he felt it vibrating. “Which level of Hell did they drag you out of?”
The demon laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. Mixed in with the deep and cruel sound was one of a woman crying and of a baby screaming. “How quaint. The fool jokes as his death stands in front of him. Such is the madness of love…”
“What do you want?” Alessa demanded, getting straight to the point.
Chance smiled. He loved her directness.
“What do I want?” the demon asked, approaching the two. “I bring the purity of oblivion; gaze upon me and tremble. The time of the heroes is passed. Each champion’s death heralds my darkness; the era of my reign.”
Chance held up his sword in warning, whilst Alessa assumed a fighting stance. “Ready yourself, love. Here comes the old ‘I’m going to take over the world and there’s nothing you can do about it hahaha’ speech. I’ve heard enough to know what he’s going to say already-”
Before Chance could finish, the demon was suddenly on him. Alessa blinked, shocked. She hadn’t even seen it move. One moment it was standing several feet away, the next sending Chance sprawling through the air with a vicious backhand. He slammed into a headstone and fell to the floor.
She leapt at the demon with her left arm pulled back for a punch. Before she could attack, it whirled on her and backhanded her as if she weighed no more than a kitten. Alessa felt herself fly away until she too struck a crypt wall, the breath knocked out of her chest. She felt her right arm fail beneath her, and the sudden pain told her it was broken.
She scrambled to sit, holding her arm to her chest. Dizzily, she looked up; there was a white marble angel looking at her, his wings stretched to the night sky. With an effort she shook her head to clear her thoughts, and noticed Chance charge once again towards the demon, his sword raised in attack.
Chance spun through the air, his sword carving an intricate pattern of death. His face was grim and focused; a mask of pure determination. The time for jokes was over. And rather than have the opponent off-put by them, he had been taken by surprise. Now there was nothing but the fight.
He whirled; a blur of motion. Any other opponent would have fallen long ago, succumbing to the sheer force of his assault. But the demon was not any other opponent. It countered him at every turn with a parry from his sceptre. Each time the weapons met, Chance’s sword screamed in glee at the power it felt. Chance cursed as it slipped through his guard on a return strike, battering his shoulder and spinning him round, and drew on Dray’chen more and more, thankful that he had practised using the demon.
Chance refused to imagine what it would be like if he hadn’t.
The demon attacked, swinging his sceptre wound widely. Chance thrust up to block, but suddenly the sceptre wasn’t there; it was hammering into his shoulder and sending him staggering.
Slowly, his blazing offensive fell away to a battered defence until he was retreating with every parry. In the sceptre he could see his death approaching, swinging from side to side as if the demon was merely toying with him, waiting for him to fail. It hit his ribs, and blood vomited from his mouth. It smashed into the side of his skull, and the world spun and darkened. It battered aside his, by comparison, clumsy, otherwise superb parries, and his arm exploded in pain, stretched to the breaking point.
He ached all over. More than that. His every nerve screamed with pain, a scream that was only ignored by the other screaming nerves. Only once in his entire existence could he remember being in a situation like this, as near death as he was now. He was certain there would be no way he could survive it again.
The realisation came to him in perfect clarity.
“Chance - look out!” Alessa’s panicked scream made him look back. Chance turned as the demon raised its sceptre high, preparing to bring it down on him. He took the offensive, trying to block the sceptre with his sword. It powered through his block, and his sword went flying, sending Chance flat on his back. Out of somewhere Alessa found strength to stand up "Chance!" she cried again.
Alessa’s eyes widened, as the sceptre was raised again- she started moving, the pain in her arm forgotten in her desperation to help him. She stopped breathing as she leapt forward. She could picture Chance’s head broken open by that… thing. *He can’t die tonight! Not like this... *
The sceptre kept coming down, perfectly aligned for a killing blow...
Changing as she moved, for further strength and speed, Alessa threw herself against the demon, deflecting the blow in the last moment. Taken by surprise, the beast staggered backwards, but didn’t lose its feet. With a raging scream, it shook the hairy demon out of itself, but not before Alessa’s powerful claws had opened a long slash in its bare neck and sent the skull helmet flying outwards. After she hit the ground, breathless again, she realised that the face that was evilly smiling at her was the face of a demoness.
A Medusa-like demoness. Her helmet had hidden the snakes she had for hair, and forked tongues protruded from both of two snarling mouths with rows of razor sharp teeth. Ugly and malevolent, but feminine mouths all the same. No wonder her voice had sounded so strange. Black demon’s blood flowed from the gash on her neck, but as she watched from the ground the wounds started to heal. Stronger in her demon form, Alessa quickly stood up, ready to attack once more.
“Demon!” the creature growled, contempt in her voice. “You are nothing against me!” and aimed the sceptre at her, black light flowing from it and hitting Alessa on her chest, sending wave after wave of pain to scald her skin and drive the last of breath from her lungs. The weight of it drove her to her knees, her head started to pound and her vision started to grow dim. She could hear Chance scream, sounding so far away, and the demoness’ laughter. She bared her powerful Verbati teeth at the beast in one last challenging growl and forced herself to turn back to her human form. She would die a human, at least.
Alessa slumped to the ground.
She hurt so much, *Demonios!* It hurt so much to simply breath. She reached up to touch Chance’s face leaning over her, her heart flinching at the raw emotion in his eyes. Her fingertips were merely inches apart when Chance’s face started to wear away. He was turning to black as Alessa reached for him. She could hear him say her name, and then there was only darkness.
Chance knew she was dead. He didn’t bother to call her name again and again, to check her pulse or breathing. It was clear she was dead.
She.
Was.
Dead.
The cascading feeling he felt inside took all the pain away, took everything away, and left him with nothing. He felt an empty shell, lost and lonely. He closed his eyes against the tears that flowed without stopping. Very nearly he gave up there and then, almost ignored the demon - the demoness - approaching, pretending not to know that the sceptre was drawing near him.
Everything slowed.
She was dead.
It had killed her.
A cold fury seized him and he felt once more. Felt the anger flow through his veins. Felt the sorrow wash over him. Felt determination fill him with strength once more. He knew how this was going to end. It wouldn’t bring her back, nothing would, but he would feel better for it afterward. For a little while.
He reached out, grabbed the sword that he had dropped from numb fingers, and clasped it in a sold grip. The demon within called to him, and he answered, let it into his mind and body. As he stood, Chance reached out to Dray’chen too, opened himself to the demon like he had never done before. And would never do again. His entire existence was focused on putting an end to this demoness, Matthew included, hell even Dray’chen wanted to put this bitch down, but was also determined never to let him slip this far into the darkness again.
With time still moving incredibly slowly, Chance spun round, bringing his sword up into a high guard. It met the sceptre just as it began to fall. He looked up at the demoness, snarled, his eyes burning with coldness. He wanted her to know he would fight with everything he had before he gave up. That it would take more than killing the woman he loved to stop him. Rather, that would only make him stronger. And that by doing so earned her his full wrath. He wanted her to know that nobody killed the people he loved without escaping retribution.
They paused, caught there together in the place where time froze.
Time caught up with them.
Chance roared, thrusting with his blade, and sending the demon back. He cried again, leaping through the air and slicing downwards. His attack met with a stiff resistance, but he was back on the offensive again, attacking, attacking, attacking. He eschewed any defence of his own completely, putting everything he had into attacking. He slashed and stabbed, swung and carved. He was at a high topped only by Dray’chen at the height of his existence. His performance in the Hyperion battle was that of a toddler compared to him now.
But it was not enough.
It never would be.
Chance didn’t care. He fought on, drawing more and more on Dray’chen. He became acutely aware of everything going on around him, was in touch with the world in a way he had never been before he had stepped so far; from this there would be no coming back.
Not that there would be anyway.
The hard truth that he had known since near the beginning of the fight came to him again.
He was going to die.
His fury began to burn itself out, and the pain returned, threatening to overwhelm him. Chance pushed past his darkening vision, his heavy muscles, and fought on. The demoness was growing faster and stronger as he became weaker.
The losing battle went on. The blood returned to his mouth, he could taste its coppery tang all the time. It choked him, and he spat great mouthfuls out whenever he could.
Chance blocked a sceptre blow with his sword, but the blade of the weapon shattered. Small pieces went flying, several cutting into his own skin. At the same time he felt all his strength had fled him, and instantly all the pain flooded back into his body. The next blow smashed into his hand, breaking all his fingers and the wrist. The broken hilt went spinning away, useless, into the shadows at the edge of his vision. He hadn’t even noticed that his sight had begun to fail…
The demoness advanced on him. A blow smashed into the side of his head, opening a deep gash that allowed blood to freely flow into his eye, obscuring his vision. His head spun and he stumbled, but didn’t fall over. The next one broke his nose and threatened to break his neck. The next took him in the gut. Chance tried to draw breath but couldn’t, and then fell to the ground.
His breath returned, slowly, and he gasped down air, but it also brought up more blood. He vomited again, then defiantly, resolutely, pulled himself to his feet and turned to face the demoness once more.
He barely registered the sceptre before it shattered his left arm. The pain was unbearable, but Chance refused to scream. He let the useless limb fall limply by his side and stared into the demoness’ eyes. But he didn’t fall. Almost instantly, another blow broke several more of his ribs, and Chance felt some puncture organs. Still, he did not fall. Then one swept the legs out from underneath him and he collapsed onto his back.
Chance didn’t know how, but somehow, he managed to get back to his feet again. He wasn’t going to face death lying down. He wasn’t angry anymore, just sad. Sad that he had failed. He had failed to kill a soldier of the enemy, failed to protect the innocent, failed Alessa, and failed himself. He was sad for all those that would live to see the reign of terror of this creature, and sad for those that would have to face it. But he was also glad. Glad that he would not see those times himself, although he would have liked to have been there, in the last battle.
The demoness sneered at him, then smiled. Chance swayed, his legs becoming weaker. Blood and tears mixed to flow freely down his face. There would be no escape this time. No spell of mass destruction, no ancient and mysterious witch, no army of friends, no loved ones. As his vision darkened even more Chance imagined he could see Death himself, waiting for the inevitable.
The sceptre descended on the side of his head, snapping his neck to one side. Chance turned to look at the demoness despite the pain. It whipped down again, and this time he felt something give way in his neck, something that cut off the pain. He turned to look at the demoness.
Finally, his legs buckled and Chance fell to his knees. He looked up, fixing her with his dying gaze. His head lolled limply on his neck as he tried to hold it straight. She took a step towards him and lowered the sceptre. He could see dark magic gathering around its tip, waiting to be unleashed, as darkness narrowed his vision to a tunnel, focused only on the sceptre, and diminishing significantly by the second. He was glad he had fought to his last, given all he had. He felt better for it, for a little while.
The demoness unleashed the spell, and began sucking the life force, the energy and power, out of Chance to imbue herself. She smiled deeply as the power of Dray’chen came with it.
By then, Chance was gone.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Underground Refuge Tunnels,
New York Ruins, April 17th, 2026
Deep, under the ruined city previously known as New York, five hooded figures walked purposely through the dark, abandoned subway tunnels. Twenty years ago they would have had to worry about an oncoming train, but a lot can change over time; now the only movement in the tunnel they had to concern themselves with was the passing vermin, scrounging for food.
Finally, after walking for what seemed like ages in the broken passageway, the group arrived at their destination: a small, obscure section with a practically unnoticeable crack in the wall.
Raising his hands from the depth of his cloak, the lead figure began to hum softly. As if responding to his call the fissure began to glow, and grow in size, revealing behind it a large circular door.
The band waited for a moment as a tiny camera attached to the entrance scanned the waiting group to verify their clearance into this most hidden location. Security measures were of the utmost importance in this day and age, ever since she had risen and taken power. Once the scanning was finished, the large steel door creaked noisily as it slid open, allowing the small band of rebels in.
Past the threshold lay a buzzing of activity: Children frantically ran about the secret passageways shouting and laughing while the adults were all busy occupying themselves with their daily tasks; everyone needed to work hard to keep the small camp running.
“I see you all managed to make it back ok,” Captain Martin Smith said, addressing the hooded figures. He wasted no time in leading the group deeper into the city, headed to a more private and restricted location. “Did you locate the site of the newest demon portal?” he continued.
“We found it all right, but it’s surrounded by thousands of creepers. There is no way we stand a chance in making a direct attack against it. Not with the meager forces we have here,” the leader of the band said, as he took off his cloak. He was tall, with disheveled blonde hair streaked with shades of premature graying. Once bright-blue eyes were now cold, hardened by the atrocities they had witnessed in the last twenty years. Despite his rugged and worn features however, he was still handsome, and often received much attention from the young women of refuge cities. That didn’t matter of course, because his heart already belonged to someone else.
“Cole!” A woman, roughly the same age, came hobbling through the group, her walking assisted by a cane, and swung her arms happily around the previously hooded man. “I am never letting you go on another mission without me again! I thought I was going to die of anxiety just worrying about you.”
Cole blushed as he returned the affectionate embrace, and kissed his wife delicately on the forehead. “Well if you hadn’t let that creeper bite you, you could have come along,” he said playfully, still holding the woman.
“We don’t have time for this - the two generals will be arriving any minute,” the captain interrupted, not even slowing his pace. “Quin, even though you’re injured, we could still use your input at the meeting.”
“Of course, Captain Smith,” Quin said more seriously, before turning back to her husband and flashing another smile.
They walked for another minute until they arrived at a wider section of the tunnel. Several chairs surrounded a large slab of rock, which served as a makeshift table for the conference ‘room’.
The group took their places around the table, but five seats remained empty.
“Which generals exactly are supposed to be arriving?” Cole asked as he stared eagerly at the vacant seats.
“General Nikolai and his forces, as well as-”
“Me,” a strong voice interrupted from the shadows.
Those around the table began scanning the room, trying to find where the voice had come from. However, their eyes could not detect the new arrival until he stepped out of the shadows which magically hid his presence.
“I hope I didn’t keep you all waiting,” Darian apologized as he took his seat next to Smith.
“Darian, I didn’t know you were coming,” Cole said joyfully, happy to see his friend alive and well. In the state the world was in, when one parted from a friend or loved one it was always a blessing if they ever managed to see each other again.
“Well I thought id surprise you, kid,” the fae replied with a smile. It was funny really; even though Cole now looked about fifteen years older than Darian, the fae had never dropped the habit of referring to his friend as ‘kid’.
Smith's eyes glanced down at his wrist watch, as his fingers anxiously tapped the rock slab. “We’re just waiting on Nikolai now.”
“Bad news Martin, Nikolai isn’t going to be able to join us. He and his forces are stuck in New Seattle. It seems that the demon forces discovered their presence in the city, so they had to go underground until the threat dies down,” Darian paused, his expression now growing grave and serious. “But that’s not the only bad news I have the unfortunate duty of bringing you guys. It seems that Proserpexa is presently in New York, and I have the sneaking suspicion she may know about this hideout.”
Those around the table began whispering fearfully to each other, astonished at the terrible information the general had brought.
“If she’s here, then I say we take our strongest warriors and go after her. We can put an end to this war right here and now!” Cole said loudly, silencing the others’ various murmurs.
“Are you mad? I know that you were Pandora’s apprentice and all, but even with you and Darian out there, we don’t stand a chance against him,” Smith responded, shocked that the man would even suggest such a thing. “Remember what happened to your mentor.”
They all paused in silence for a minute or two, reflecting on that. It almost went without saying. True to her nature, Pandora had been one of the last to fall in the White-Hat purges. Their titanic clash had laid waste to Washington DC with the same effect of a nuclear bomb. Nothing, or very little, was left. With the murder of most good guys, she had been arguably the most powerful left on Earth. She knew every minute that she fought allowed hundreds to flee. And still she had lost; Proserpexa emerging stronger than before. Pandora’s death had shown all of them that Proserpexa could not be stopped one-on-one.
“He’s right, Cole. I know how much you hate the Demon-Queen, but you can't let you personal vendettas cloud rational thought.”
Cole’s hands clenched in a fist as he tried to cool the fire in his blood. He couldn’t argue that he definitely did have a personal vendetta. When Proserpexa was first released in 2006, Chance and Alessa had been among her first victims, and the mage longed to avenge their deaths.
Quin placed a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder, “He’s taken a lot of people from us,” she said, thinking of her dead cousin Reah, “and I don’t want you to be added to that list”. Her words achieved their desired effect, as the man seemed to slouch back in his chair, abandoning his hope of making an attack.
“So, if we’re not going to strike, why not try the time travel theory? We could put an end to all this that way.”
If it were possible, Smith’s face grew even more taken aback. “The use of time travel is strictly outlawed; the risks associated with it are too great.”
Cole’s temper was beginning to flare up. They had an opportunity in front of them, but everyone was too scared to use it.
“I’ve already contacted Natasha in LA, and she suggested we evacuate New York and make our way over to her city,” Darian said, trying to ease the growing tension in the room. “But we’re going to have to move fast if we want to get everyone out before -”
The conversation was cut off by a huge rumbling noise, emanating from the city entrance. The group members exchanged worried glances as the same reverberation echoed once again.
Quin’s hand clenched her husband’s arm tightly as her mind drew the same conclusion the other had reached. “The city couldn’t have been discovered so quickly, could it have?”
By now, the remaining people at the table were out of their seats and rushing down the corridor.
“Smith, Cole, evacuate the city through the hidden channels. I'll try to stall them as long as I can!” the faery general called out before changing into wolf form and speeding away.
A loud siren began blaring periodically, calling for the immediate exodus of the refuge city. Chaos filled the corridors as horrified people began scrambling about; some looking for their family members, others trying to salvage what little personal belongings they had left.
Once Cole and his wife had met up with the horde of fleeing migrants, the mage turned to Quin. “Go with the people, and make sure everyone gets out as quickly as possible. Head straight for LA, and don’t look back.”
The woman’s face turned perplexed, until her husband’s words finally dawned on her. “No, no, you heard Darian, you’re supposed to leave also. You are not going to the main gate with him!”
Cole’s eyes flashed with fierce determination. “I’m not going to let him go out there alone. This war already took the lives of too many of my friends, and I’m not going to run away while it takes another. Besides, if it’s just creepers Darian and I can handle it, and we’ll meet up with you after.”
Quin was ready to argue more, but decided against it. She knew her husband well enough to know that he was going. But he should also know her well enough to realize that she wouldn’t let him go alone.
“Fine, but if you stay, I’m going with you.”
Cole wasted no time; he pulled his love close in his arms and began reciting a teleportation spell which would bring them directly to the city entrance. *Damn stubborn Aussie blood.*
In a flash of light the two reappeared, several metres in front of the enormous steel door Cole had come through earlier. Now however, the thick metal barrier was beginning to crack and break as the mysterious outside force continued to beat on it.
“What are you doing here? I told you to help with the evacuation!” Darian’s voice came from behind.
“The only reason you wanted me to help with the evacuation is so I’d stay out of harm’s way. We both know that I’m more useful here at the front of the battle lines.”
A second emergency door began slowly closing behind them. In a matter of minutes, the city entrance would be blocked off in a last effort to gain more time for the escape.
“The emergency gate is closing. Get on the other side now!” the fae fumed, trying to pull rank on his younger friend.
“A good general wouldn’t think with his heart, but with his mind Darian. I’m more needed here.”
Before they could continue debating, the first gateway finally broke completely; the tunnel entrance was breached. The three stood waiting for a horde of creepers to come crawling in and attack, but to their surprise the little demons did not immediately rush into battle. Instead, they slowly amassed in the entrance and then parted, creating a walkway through their wretched bodies. Three figures began walking through the path, two black hooded priests in the front, followed by the Demon-Queen, clad in ebony black armor. Her face was obscured behind a grotesque looking helmet made from the skull of some outwardly beast, and her left hand grasped a large sceptre that looked like four snakes intertwined together.
“Jesus Christ, Proserpexa is here in person,” Quin whispered, as she leaned on her husband for support.
Darian glanced back at the second door which was seconds away from sealing them off for good. Without hesitation, he reacted. “I never claimed to be a good general,” he said as he summoned a powerful blast of wind. Cole and Quin had no time to prepare, as the gust of air threw them backwards through the safety of the closing barrier. Even though Cole was quick to his feet, the door closed before he could manage to get past it.
“NO!” he screamed as he began to pound pointlessly on the thick metal barricade.
“There’s no way through Cole, you know the doors are sealed with charms. Even with your magic you won’t be able to get past,” Quin said sadly. “We may as well go help with the evacuation, and pray that Darian finds a way to escape.”
He hated to admit it, but she was right; he couldn’t get back through. *Damn you Darian!* he swore internally, before picking up his wife and rushing after the other inhabitants.
Meanwhile, back in the tunnel entrance, Darian stood firmly in place waiting for Proserpexa to make the first move.
“So what brings the demon queen personally to our quaint little town?”
“Usually I wouldn’t waste my time overseeing the extinction of pitiful resistance cities, but when I learned that Pandora’s apprentice, you, and the human Nikolai were all going to be here, I couldn’t resist making an appearance,” the demoness boomed, her voice echoing like some bottomless abyss.
“Well the apprentice is gone, and Nikolai never made it, so you’re just going to have to settle for me.”
“You may have avoided death during the purge of the White Hats, but you’ll not leave this tunnel alive, fae.”
Darian smiled as his body began to sizzle with electrical energy. “I don’t plan on it.” With a thundering boom, Darian released the energy, incinerating countless creepers, and the two priests. “Looks like it's just you and me.”
The demoness bellowed with laughter as she marched toward Darian. “I will enjoy breaking your puny body in two.”
Back in the escape channels, Cole’s eyes fluttered briefly as he suddenly gasped for breath.
“What is it?” Quin asked, concerned.
“Darian’s dead,” he replied coldly, as he halted his progression. “I can’t go on, Quin.”
“You’re not going back there; if she killed Darian that quickly, you don’t stand a chance,” his wife fumed, trying to drag him forward.
“I didn’t mean that. I meant go on with this whole thing, this bloody war! Chance, Alessa, now Darian. I’m not going to let her kill anyone else.”
Quin stared blank-faced at Cole, waiting for him to go on.
‘I’m using the spell, I’m going to put an end to this war, this way of life.”
A gasp escaped her fine lips as she fell back utterly stunned. “But you know the dangers of time travel, you know it’s forbidden.”
“So what?! Does it look like the world isn’t at an end anyways? It can't get any worse than this. If I succeed, this reality won't come to pass, and we’ll have the world back, the way it was before she changed it. I have to do this.”
Raising his hands, the mage began to call out to the cosmos:
Keepers of space and time, Hear the call of my rhyme.
Quin’s eyes began to well up with tears, as she ran forward and threw her arms around the man she loved. “You better come back to me,” she said through sobs.Let the river change its flow
Through the portal let me go.
Ages past come to me,
It is my will, so mote it be.
Cole kissed his wife passionately one last time before he stepped through the shimmering threshold. “I love you Quin,” he mouthed to her before the gateway closed behind him.
Michael Weatherly as Adult Cole
[/]Creeper
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
LA
December 5th, 11:34 PM
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
A small beacon of light began to shimmer and buzz, disturbing the tranquility of the quiet LA night. Quickly, the brightness of the small sphere began to intensify exponentially, and after just a few seconds it had transformed into a giant orb of brilliant luminosity. Lightning began to crackle noisily out of ball, harmlessly dissipating into the ground. Finally, at the apex of its radiance, the ball exploded in a tremendous flash of light, revealing its mysterious package: a man.
“Oh God,” he said to himself, trying desperately to control his shaking body. *Who would have thought time travel would be so painful?*
It took a moment for the man to calm the rapid rising and falling of his chest, and finally concentrate on his exact locations. *This was… err is Alessa’s house? But why did I end up here?*
It did not take the man long to realize why he had appeared at this exact location. The spell he used to plummet back in time was set up in such a way that it would lock on to his closest attachment to the specific time period he had wished to visit. Naturally, in 2006, Chance and Alessa would have been his strongest tie.
Cole stared at the quaint Spanish styled house. He longed to run over and see Chance and Alessa both alive and well, but he had to fight the urge; he had come to this time with a purpose and could not let his personal desires get in the way.
“I should just go now,” he said aloud, as he turned to walk away.
Inside the apartment, Alessa was watching TV. She was leaning on Chance’s chest, nibbling on a chocolate tablet and so engrossed on the thriller that she hadn't noticed him falling asleep.
“No! don’t go in there!” she hushed as the little blondie took a turn in the castle hall she was walking. She loved thrillers, the gruesomer the better, she loved those monsters and demons and vampires; while watching these movies she felt like the thousands of millions of people that believed monsters belonged to the screen.
The sound was the first. A whooshing sound that didn’t come from the TV set. Startled, she looked outside just in time to see a brilliant light explode. Her first thought was about Morris, she stood up so abruptly that she awoke the sleeping Chance.
However, when she got to the window there was darkness outside again. She felt Chance walk behind her. She signaled him to turn off the lights so whoever was outside wouldn’t see them watching, and turned to the window again.
“What is it?” hushed Chance next to her.
“I don’t know. I heard a sound and then saw a light… Do you think it could be Morris?”
“Only one way to know,” he answered.
Chance darted into the bedroom, grabbed Dray’chen’s sword, hurled the blanket off and headed for the front door. He jogged down the corridor hoping to catch whoever it was, especially if it was Morris. Once outside however, he caught only a glimpse of a man rounding a corner up ahead, walking away.
He didn’t seem to fit the description of Morris but-
But, glowing footsteps eh? Interesting…
From a corner of his memory he remembered somebody telling him (Matthew?) that glowing footsteps were often a sign of residual magic.
Magic, eh? Very interesting…
Alessa hurried after him, still barefoot. She grimaced as she stepped on a stone. *Maldición.* Jumping on one leg, she tried to catch Chance who was already rounding the corner. However, unlike Chance she had seen that the man he was following wasn’t Morris. He was too young.
Down the street, Cole abruptly stopped his movement. Even though Chance was extremely quiet for a man carrying a sword, he was easily picked up by Cole’s mystical senses.
*So something came back through the portal with me,* he thought angrily, as the image of the sword floated in his mind. In the blink of an eye, he gathered the arcane energy in the air and released it on the unknown stalker.
Cole slowly turned around, preparing to disintegrate his unlucky captive. “You’ll regret following me here… CHANCE!”
With the flick of his hand, the magical energy that had surrounded and bound Chance vanished, allowing him to move freely once again. Chance staggered, raising the sword into a fighting position as Alessa stumbled up behind him. He made sure to put himself in between the man and her.
“Ok, pal. I don’t take well to strangers casting spells on me. You know me, and I don’t know you. We have a problem. I tend to solve problems head on.” He hefted the sword for emphasis. “Get my… uhh… point? Man, that’s the oldest one in the book,” Chance added, muttering to himself.
With another flick of his hand, the weapon vanished from Chance’s grip, only to appear on the ground several metres away. “It's been so long,” Cole said, unable to contain his smile. Both Alessa and Chance were just as he had remembered them: strong, courageous, and ready to take on the ghouls and goblins that threatened mankind – of course, he wasn’t one of them.
“Alessa,” he said over-excitedly, taking a step forward, which only caused Chance to scowl even more and move protectively in front of his love.
“Of course, I couldn’t expect you to recognize me, could I?” he said more to himself than to the other two.
Chance snarled, glanced at the sword, and thought better of it, despite his longing to hold it and hack into this ‘man’. “Why is it almost everybody who knows me, but I don’t, talks in riddles like that? You’re about the third person who’s done it. Now start making sense or I start breaking something. How do you know me and Alessa?”
The man considered preparing Chance and Alessa for what they were both about to hear, but then thought the better of it. If his friends were anything like he remembered, it was better to just say it bluntly.
“Chance, Alessa, I know it may be hard to believe, but its me, Cole.”
Alessa took a deep breath and stepped back. “Cole…” she whispered. “How…?”
Chance was more sceptical. “Right. And I’m the bloody Queen of England. Cole is just a kid. You, sir, are most definitely not. So you’ve been stalking him too?”
*Always the protector, aren’t you Chance?* Cole thought as he scanned his brain to think of a way to prove his identity. “I know it seems impossible, but I’m telling the truth and I can prove it,” he said, his face changing slightly as he could not conceal the pain this particular memory brought him. “After we fought the Elders at the Hyperion hotel in October of 2006, I - being an immature brat - started dabbling into drugs, and hanging out with a bad crowd. Of course, as luck would have it, I ran into you one night as you were patrolling, and you found out what I was up to. I know now, you were just trying to look out for me, but a 15 year old kid doesn’t see things in the same way. We had an argument, and I said to leave me alone, and stay out of my life. That was the last thing I said to you before you were killed,” he said quietly, the regret in his voice extremely obvious.
There was a moment of silence as the two considered the man’s words. They were definitely farfetched, but something about him was oddly familiar.
Chance’s jaw dropped. How did he…? “Temple of Solomon…” he said in disbelief.
It’s him…” Alessa said, equally shocked, and taking a step forward. “It’s Cole… It’s really him…” She inspected the man, trying to find the resemblance between him and the Cole she knew. And the resemblance was there, after you took the marks of age and fatigue out of him. The blue eyes were the same, only sadder, his hair showed more white than it should for his age… what would it be? 34… 35? And he was taller, adult tall, and more muscular. Rugged, he looked rugged. And handsome, as handsome as she had thought he would become.
“What the… I mean, how the… I mean… huh, and what do you mean killed?” was all Chance could say as he peered at Cole as if he was on display.
Cole’s gloomy expression changed into a slight smile. “Well, now keep in mind I told you it's going to be hard to believe. *God, this is going to sound so Terminator Four,* he mused, before choosing the right words to explain the complex nature of his arrival.
“Ok now, don’t freak on me. I’ve traveled back through time from the year 2026 to stop the rise of Proserpexa, a demon queen. I told you not to freak out,” he repeated, seeing to the look of utter bewilderment on both their faces. “In 2006, Prosperpexa was… errrr will be released from her banishment, and will once again walk the earthly plane. It didn’t take her long to grow in power, hunting down special hunters, like you and Alessa, and feeding off their life force. By the time the rest of the White Hats knew what was going on, it was too late. She eventually managed to throw the world into an apocalyptic state, with her as it's unquestionable tyrant. A few of us managed to survive and continue the fight, but it’s a losing battle, and there is no way we’re going to win. That pretty much leads to why I'm here now; I’ve come to stop her from ever being released in the first place, thus stopping the future I know.”
Chance shook his head, clenched his fist. All they had fought for… and still such a bleak future awaited them. “If it wasn’t for the truth in your voice, I’d say you’d been watching Terminator too many times… How come time travel is always discovered when the world’s on the verge of destruction?”
“Well, it's not so much that it wasn’t discovered before this, so much as its kinda... umm… how can I say this... outlawed and potentially capable of unraveling the very fabric of reality.”
“What do you mean, it could unravel reality?” Chance asked concerned.
“It's rather simple really. There should only be one Cole existing in this time. By me being here, it upsets the balance of the multiverse. If I don’t finish what I came here to do quickly, reality will start to collapse on itself.”
“Why did I ask?” Chance sighed.
Alessa raised an eyebrow. She was a sci-fi fan and was versed in time travel movies, apart from thrillers they were her favorites. “Paradoxes,” she stated.
Chance’s brow deepened in concentration. Time travel. Outlawed. Three words came forth from the depths of his soul:
{What… the… fuck?}
*Yeah, gotta agree with you there.*
He couldn’t get his head round this time travel stuff, but there was one thing he could deal with. And that’s fighting demons. “Look, we can deal with all that crap later. So, you’re here stop a demon, huh?” He looked at Alessa. “Need a hand?”
“I can't ask you two to help me. In my time, the demoness killed you both, and I'm not going to put you in a situation where that could happen again,” Cole replied, determined to keep them out of harm's way.
“You don’t have to ask,” Alessa said, walking up next to him and taking his hand. “We’re volunteering.”
“Yeah,” Chance said, resting his own hand on Cole’s shoulder. “I guess it’s what we do. We’re the good guys after all. We might as well try. Besides, if we fail we’ll only die eventually anyway…”
Cole was about to protest, but realized the two were too stubborn to take no for an answer. Plus, if he wasn’t too late, they could stop it before the demon was ever released.
“Ok, I guess the more good guys in this the better. We have to leave now though; every second that passes is a second wasted.”
“So where are we headed then?” Alessa asked anxiously, trying to speed things up.
“To Poplar Avenue; with any luck, we can stop this before it starts,” Cole replied.
Alessa began to jog back to the apartment, “I'll get the car, it will be the fastest way.”
“Actually,” Cole said, as he and Chance followed close behind, “me teleporting us there would be the fastest, but I’m a little too drained.”
“Teleport?! You can teleport?” Chance gasped, somewhat surprised.
The mage turned to his friend and winked, “Like I said, a lot has changed in twenty years.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday, 6th December 2006 - 1:36am
Poplar Avenue
Once more Tash was lying in her bed, not sleeping, feeling the empty place beside her growing cold. She sighed and rolled over, thoughts of Victor merging with thoughts of the still-unconscious Cole below and with thoughts of how she'd pull enough people together to form the White Hats properly and really make a difference in this world. Sudden banging and yelling disturbed her reverie and she sat up wearily, beginning to wonder if bringing all the potential White Hats under one roof was such a bright idea after all. First thing she'd have to teach them was to have quieter parties – or invite her along, at least.
The ruckus continued unabated for a while, and Tash felt a sense of urgency, of panic, leaking up to her from below. *Oh, crap. What is it this time?* She stumbled from her sleepless bed and hastily pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, ensuring she had sufficient weapons in case there was an immediate threat. Taking the stairs down three at a time she saw Chance and Alessa standing with a strange man outside Reah's door. Quin was just in the process of opening said door as she entered the hallway. Tash raised an eyebrow at the trio, and Alessa smiled in reassurance.
Quin rubbed crusty bits from the corners of her eyes and scowled sleepily at the people pounding on the door. "Don't you know it's the middle of the damn night?" She tried to sound tough, like her cousin Reah, but her words came out in a squeak that made her blush.
Quin caught sight of Tash from the corner of her eye and turned to her, relieved to at least see somebody she knew. "Who are these guys – are they with you?"
Cole’s eyes widened for just a brief instant as he saw the girl who would later become his wife and lover. She looked a little younger, and held herself with a meek shyness. *That will definitely pass in the future.* Despite the warm feelings seeing Quin brought to him, they had no time to waste.
“Reah – is she here? Please say she hasn’t left for Sunnydale yet,” the mage said anxiously, biting his lips in anticipation.
Quin blushed redder under the scrutiny of the man. He looked at her as though he knew her somehow, though she was sure she'd remember if she'd met such a hunk. "Uh," she began, somewhat flustered. *Oh, good first impression. Be all surly then get tongue tied.*
"Reah left," she finally forced out, "days ago. She didn't say where." Once more she sought out Tash, who had now approached much closer. "Uh, Tash? What is all this about?"
Tash cocked her head at the three in the hallway. It didn't take a telepath to work out that the stranger was highly agitated about something. "I don't know, Quin, but you go back to bed. I'll sort it out."
Not waiting to see if Quin took her advice Tash asked the others, "So, what is this about? Can I help?"
“We’re too late,” Cole said aloud, his hands balling into fists of frustration. He had barely taken any notice of Tash’s question, let alone her presence. His mind was racing, trying to think of what to do next. “Maybe, just maybe, there is still time.” Closing his eyes, the man began to reach out with his mind, scanning first a few feet, then metres, then miles, further and further until he reached his destination.
Before he was done, another figure came from the stairway to join the growing group. Darian appeared in the hallway wearing pyjama pants and a tank top. His dark hair was dishevelled from ‘bed head’ but he was in no way tired. When he had heard the commotion he had immediately set out to see what was going on. Of course he never expected to see Tash, Chance, Alessa, Quin and a strange man, who was now glowing with a soft yellow light.
“What’s going on?” he asked cautiously.
"Good question, and one I asked myself," Tash replied. "Chance? Alessa? Care to explain who this is and just what the hell he's doing in my hallway at this hour?"
Alessa took a quick look at the young girl too, and tried to choose her words not to alarm her. She knew she was Reah’s cousin. “Well, it seems that Reah is about to… get into trouble.” At Tash’s inquiring gaze, she opened her mouth to explain but Chance interrupted her.
“She’s about to wake a demon from hell that will kill us all,” he said, and got a scowl from Alessa. *So much for tact!* she thought, but he went on without paying attention to her. “This man here, strange as it sounds, is Cole. An adult Cole back from the future.” Chance chuckled softly, he still found it so funny. If it weren’t for the gravity of the situation he would have sold tickets for Terminator 4.
Quin gasped and shut the door quickly, then reopened it a crack as curiosity overcame her horror at what she'd just heard. She eyed the hunk up and down again, carefully. *That's what skinny little Cole is going to look like? Wow...*
Tash eyed both Alessa and Chance speculatively. Reah awakening a demon she could believe, and a Cole from the future? Reah had shown her, on G'rnatha, what had happened to her, how she'd travelled to the future and spent about two years subjective time there before returning. It was possible, she knew. And now that she looked, the psychic emanations from this man were close enough to that of the Cole that lay on Darian's bed below that it may well be him.
She turned to the older man, whose glow had faded, and said, "A demon, you say? Ok, if we accept that you're here to help us and stop Reah from releasing it, what do we have to do? And if it's already out, how do we stop it?"
She didn't like discussing this in the hallway, even though the only occupied room right now was the one Quin was lurking in with the door still half-open. "Sorry, Quin, we're coming inside – if that's ok?"
Quin nodded, wide-eyed, and let them in. Tash came in last, closing the door behind her and crossing her arms. Her dark brown eyes met Cole’s, "Well? Talk quickly, if we don't have much time."
His spell finished, Cole gave a small sigh of relief as he followed the others into Quin’s apartment. *She hasn’t been released yet.* Opening his mouth to explain, he abruptly stopped when he noticed Darian was in the room with them. The same feeling that he’d had when he’d laid eyes on Chance and Alessa alive and well rushed over him. But, like the emotions Quin stirred up in him, he had to brush them aside; if they didn’t act quickly, they all would be dead.
“Any time now, Reah is going to release Proserpexa back into the world. We have to stop her or it’s the end of the world as you know it. We don’t have any time to waste here. We have to go now; if she rises, we won’t be able to stop her.”
"What do you mean, we can't stop her? She must have some weaknesses." Tash strode forward and eyed Cole carefully. "You look to be mid-30's now, if you account for a hard life. In twenty years of fighting her, you must have learned something of her vulnerabilities."
Cole’s face grimaced. “She has no weaknesses. Everyone who went up against her died, even Pandora.” Noticing Tash’s not-so-believing gaze, he continued on. “Take off your gloves Tash, and see for yourself,” he added, reaching out his hands to hers.
“Pandora?” said Chance before the two could join hands. “Damn, that witch was powerful,” he added to himself, and signalled the others to continue with their joining. He felt a hand on his arm and looked down; Alessa was smiling at him. She alone knew what that woman meant to him, the answers she held. Alessa always made him feel better.
“She’s not dead yet, Chance,” she said softly, and he nodded, covering her hand with his, and holding it tight. “We aren’t dead yet,” she added, responding to his embrace. *But we will be,* she thought, and shivered.
Tash recoiled slightly at Cole’s suggestion, then realised he’d confirmed one of two things: he either was Cole returned from the future, or he was someone from some agency that knew way too much about her.
Sighing, she took his hands in her gloved ones and said, “I shall, but only to see if there’s something you may have forgotten. Something from the early days, perhaps.” She bit her lip and warned, “Cole, if you know me and know of my ability, you must know that it’s often not pleasant – for either of us. We’ll relive those memories.”
“Don’t worry, I'm not scared of a little dream sequence," he responded reassuringly.
"All right, then." Tash slowly and deliberately removed one glove, reaching out her bare hand to grasp Cole's. Their eyes met and locked, and for a long moment it seemed everyone in the room held their breaths, and then for Tash the room faded as memories and impressions flooded into her from the man before her. Strong, recent memories first, spiralling down to that time she searched for; the earliest memories Cole had of the demon queen...
Hot pain lanced through her as the time portal opened and swallowed her up, bright lights flashing in her eyes as it spun her backwards to where it all began. Back to 2006…
In the room the others saw Tash and Cole both double in pain, their brows furrowed with some unseen torment. Expressions changed, chasing each other between their faces, and they could only stand and watch as the two shared a lifetime of nightmarish memories.
Watching helplessly at the closed gate, knowing Darian was on the far side, facing Proserpexa alone. Anguish rose in her, threatening to choke her, as she knew that the final doom of mankind was not far off. She had to do something to stop it…
“Quin! No!!” she heard herself scream in Cole’s voice as creepers swarmed around her lover. She saw her arm – though it looked like it belonged to Cole – hacking at the demons, dragging her wife clear of the monsters. Quin’s leg was damaged, and somehow she knew Quin would never walk properly again…
Faces passed in faster and faster succession. Pain, death, destruction – events played out a hundred times, a thousand times, always ending the same. Fewer and fewer humans left, and the demon queen growing stronger with every soul she took. Remotely Tash knew that tears streamed down her face, but she was unable to rip herself from the flood of visions that enveloped her. She had to find what she was searching for.
Cole was young again, still a teenager. The world was still almost normal, the demon only out a few months. She watched through Cole’s eyes as army battalions faced the demoness, hoping they would be able to stand against her. But though she was newly released Proserpexa had already grown fat on sorcerers and demon hunters, and although the bullets slowed her they barely penetrated her hide. In Cole’s memory she recalled being told that very early on the demoness had been much weaker, but that time was already past. Thousands died that day…
And she learned of her friends’ deaths. Darian held her/Cole close and told her how a demon had killed Alessa and Chance. She hazily remembered a dream she’d had just a few nights earlier about that very thing. A cemetery. A demon with snakes coming out of its head…
Tash let go of Cole with a gasp, the pain from his various encounters with demonic forces fading rapidly as the visions left her. However, tears still ran freely down her face from two decades of anguish compressed into a few moments. She hastily donned her glove again, then held Cole until they both had a chance to re-centre themselves in the here and now.
Alessa watched alarmed at how the two of them fought with the memories of… the future? She shook her head and tried to move towards Tash when she faltered, but Chance stopped her. She kept quiet, knowing she shouldn’t interrupt, but it was difficult to watch the anguish that played in their faces and tense bodies.
*Oh, Dios so much suffering!* Their obvious ordeal almost made her happy at having died before witnessing all that despair and destruction. But she almost immediately slapped herself for those selfish thoughts.
Then the connection was broken and after they held each other a few moments, Tash and Cole almost collapsed to the floor. She ran to help her friend then and put an arm at her waist, supporting her. She tried to convey more than physical support with her strength, and Tash smiled weakly to her, sensing her emotions.
Beside them, Chance and Darian were helping an exhausted Cole to a chair. Quin was still, watching everything with wide eyes. Somehow she had been implied in that grim future, she could tell. Tash had screamed her name with such anguish that it had sent shivers down her spine.
Tash smiled wanly at Alessa, wiping her sleeve across her face to clear her sight. "Thanks," she whispered. Such a long, terrible life of suffering she'd seen, and she thought of the young boy downstairs. No, she couldn't let that future happen to him. And she couldn't let her friends die, either. "He's right – we have to go now. But I don't think she's as invincible as Cole thought. If she's out – and we may still be lucky there – she'll be much weaker to start with. If Reah's ok there'll be six of us to fight this thing."
Quin did some rapid calculation and looked up from where she sat. "I'm not going?" she asked quietly.
Tash met Cole's eyes across the room and across two decades of love and loss. Quin was not a fighter, though she could become one. "No," Tash replied equally softly, answering for both of them, "No, someone needs to stay with Cole. Our Cole..."
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Tuesday the 5th, December, 2006
Poplar Avenue - Darian’s Apartment
23:23
The strange, bare room was still and empty around Quin as she sat silently, hands tucked between her thighs on a bland wooden chair that had been adopted from the outer room’s dining area, relocated to the silent abyss of this strange and lonely quarters after recent, dramatic events.
Situated alongside the bed, Quin watched the steady rise and fall of its current occupant's chest, feeling her own heave in a withheld sigh she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding.
He had to be younger than her, she’d guessed, but he had an aura of toughness about him that she’d somehow managed to pick up on when she’d first set eyes on him. She figured it had something to do with the fact that he was magically active that her abnormal gift, that as a general rule had only really given her an empathy with animals, had sparked something within her.
And that’s what had her continuously returning to this bedside, taking her usual spot and just sitting there; lost in her own world, observing his every quirk, every flaw, and every everything.
She was utterly enthralled by the very air that surrounded him!
Darian had welcomed her freely into his apartment whenever she’d asked politely; taking watch or helping the half-fae out in any way she could, but namely she just wanted to sit beside the bed so she could study Cole in her quaint and comfortable silence.
…
A brief glance at the near-closed door, curious about Darian’s current status, then she was back to watching over Cole.
She noticed a small strand of his hair disrupting the still fine features of the youth that he was, and reached out tentatively with her hand to brush it softly from his eyes, taking a fleeting feel of his forehead's temperature while she followed through with the same gesture to smooth back his bed ruffled hair.
…
Suddenly, without any apparent provocation, she found herself thinking of Trent…
Stranger still was the slight pang of guilt that disturbed her gut, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why! It wasn’t as though she was checking Cole out or anything! She was just… watching over him. That was all.
Quin frowned inwardly at her brief and petty turmoil.
…
She hoped he’d wake sometime soon…
Deep down, even though Quin knew he’d be all right, she could never help but fear the worst of such situations.
…
It’d be time to go home soon. The hour was late and Darian was probably too kind to ask her to leave.
Quin shifted in her seat, sliding her hands further forward between her thighs till she reached her knees and curled her fingers outward around them…
…
… soon…
Wednesday the 6th December 2006
Poplar Avenue - Darian’s Apartment, Return
02:02am
The door creaked as Quin pushed gently against it, admitting herself into Darian’s bedroom once again, though this time she stopped herself advancing any further than the doorway, admitting the soft light of the moon that gently illuminated the main apartment. It spilled past her form, casting her long shadow over the bed and the boy that lay upon it.
…
*What happened up there?*
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday, 6th December 2006 – 5:50am
Sunnydale
Tash drove Henna's jeep around the blasted remains of what had once been a thriving town. When Cole had told them where they had to go, she'd immediately suggested they use the SUV – she'd heard about what had happened here, and knew the terrain wouldn't be exactly forgiving of an ordinary car any more. Cole sat in the passenger seat beside her, his eyes closed and a soft glow emanating from his body as he attempted to pinpoint Reah's location. Darian, Chance and Alessa sat in the back, and all five of them were armed to the teeth.
The crater that occupied the space where Sunnydale once stood was enormous, cracks and fissures running for miles in every direction. They'd been driving around its perimeter for some time, trying to find any sign of Reah or of the horror Cole assured them she was about to unleash. Tash had seen the demon in Cole's memories of a future she hoped would never come to pass, and she pushed further on the accelerator, desperate to find Reah before Proserpexa was released.
Nobody in the vehicle said a word, all concentrating on the landscape around them, all hoping that Cole's spell would find its target soon. Suddenly, to their left, a blindingly bright column of light shot into the air. Instinctively Tash turned the jeep towards it, knowing that it just had to be Reah. Then the light vanished as suddenly as it had come, but it was followed by a loud boom that caused everyone in the car to cringe, and Cole broke out of his trance. Then that, too, passed, but the wind that followed was too much for the valiant jeep to withstand, and Tash yelled, "Get clear!" as she felt the car begin to flip.
“Holy shit, we’re headed for the ravine!” Chance said, his strong arms wrapping protectively around Alessa, as he angled himself into a position to kick open the side door, which was now where the roof should be. His powerful leg shot out, smashing into the metallic side. The door dented, but did not open. “Come on!” he shouted, as he kicked again.
In the front seat, Cole knew that even if Chance got the door open, they couldn’t all get out in time. Although he had to conserve his energy, he also knew the world stood no chance if they all died now. Closing his eyes, he blocked out the tumbling landscape around him. ”Vanish”
A nauseating feeling came over the five, its sickening presence forcing them to close their eyes. However, the uncomfortable feeling passed a second later and when they opened their eyes they were all standing outside, safely away from the truck as it tumbled and rolled across the landscape.
Alessa sagged against Chance for a moment, before straightening again with a wan smile. "I'm ok," she said in response to his worried look.
Tash reeled for a moment, disoriented, then blinked at their new surroundings. "Why is teleporting always so damn nauseating?" she complained. She remembered the first time she'd been teleported – when Kate had snatched her from the Black Veins. "Still," she said, collecting her wits, "No time to lose – I'm guessing that was the sign that we're too late to stop Reah. Right, Cole?"
The expression in his bright blue eyes told Tash all she needed to know; it was too late.
“So I guess this means we’re not going to have an easy day, eh?” Darian said, casting off the waves of disorientation. “But I’m sure as hell not going to let Propecia, or whatever she is called, kill a single person.”
Alessa met Tash's eyes, and they tried to keep their expressions serious. "Then let's move, before Proserpexa gets too far," Alessa said, beginning to jog towards the place the light had come from.
Chance gave a small, secretive smile, as if to say "That's my girl," before joining the rest in running the same direction, covering the ground quickly.
The five jogged for a few minutes and Tash was beginning to wonder if the light had been further than it had looked, when they crested a rise and saw into a depression in the ground. In the middle were two figures. One was much larger than human, her naked form a blotchy peachy/white sort of colour, with writhing snake-like hair. She had two mouths, and forked tongues flickered out of both of them over rows of razor-sharp teeth. Not all of that was really visible from Tash’s vantage point, but she could remember a lot of how Proserpexa looked from Cole’s visions. Unpleasant wasn't the half of it. The other figure, blades extended from the backs of her hands as she circled the demon, was Reah.
She could win this! She knew it! She had a chance: she was going to save the world from ever having to witness this hell-bitch!
“You seem to be struggling,” Reah managed the words through the strain of concentration, her smile malevolent as, in that brief flickering moment, she foresaw her victory. “You’re not as strong as I remember you, Prosy.”
The serpentine demoness ignored her sarky comments and concerned herself only with the kill.
An opening…
‘CRACK’
Reah’s head spun, blood spurting from her nose as she was knocked off balance by the powerful blow. *Shit!*
‘CRACK’
‘SLASH’
‘SNAP!’
“AAAHHHH!” Reah stumbled to the side, clutching her ribs. She couldn’t see straight; blood seeped into her vision, turning the world a shade of red. She needed to recuperate…
The two mouths of Proserpexa began to cackle maniacally, "Pathetic human. You dare to think you could stand against my might? The only reason you aren’t dead yet is because my long slumber has made me slow." The demon queen stalked forward, raising her clawed hand to finish off her enemy.
Seeing the beast move closer to Reah, Cole stopped running down the hill. "Kali, Era, Cronos, Tonix, Air like nectar, thick as Onyx, Cassail by your second star, Hold mine victim as in tar."
The air around Proserpexa began to ripple as Cole's magic took effect. The demoness could no longer move, but the spell wouldn’t last long.
Darian was the first to arrive at Reah’s side. “Seems like you could use a hand,” he said, scooping her up into his arms and rushing back to the safety of the group.
The four who had rushed down the hillside now stood before the furious demoness who roared in laughter. "Good, good, the more the merrier," she called, "Come slake my thirst, trembling mortals!"
Darian lay Reah down gently behind the small group of warriors, who faced the immobile Proserpexa. Even as they advanced, however, they could see she was slowly beginning to free herself from the magical bonds that held her. Tash rushed her from one side with one of Reah's mercury blades as Chance attacked with a long, deadly blade on the other. Alessa raced to the rear of the creature, leaving Darian the joyous task of taking the demon head on.
With a grunt of effort Tash slashed at the demon, her long knife making only a shallow score in that thick hide. *C'mon Cole,* she willed, *Whatever comes next, do it fast.*
"You should all feel honoured to be the first to fall at my hand. Your blood shall pave the way for my dynasty upon Earth!" As the four fought against her, the snakes atop her head began to hiss and sway upwards, each looking in different directions. Suddenly, red beams erupted from the snakes' eyes, flying towards each of the heroes. Darian and Chance managed to avoid the lasers just in time, however the other three were not so lucky. A tingly feeling fell over those who were struck as their muscles tightened up; they were effectively paralysed.
*Don’t worry, I can fix this,* Cole thought telepathically to Tash and Alessa, *We just have to hope Darian and Chance can keep her busy.*
"What the hell was th-?" Darian's question was cut short when Proserpexa's arm connected with his stomach, sending the fae flying backwards.
"Hey, Hell-bitch, over here!" Chance screamed, raising Dray'chen's frightening sword. The blade danced around, whizzing about the air at inhuman speed. It connected on more than one occasion, but the demon hardly seemed fazed.
"GNAT!" her mouths spat, as she grabbed hold of Chance's sword, and with the other released a blast of black energy.
Chance stumbled back momentarily, but began to advance again. "You may have killed me once, but it’s not going to happen again!"
Proserpexa released another bolt, then another, and another. Chance's eyes seemed to glaze over from the pain, but he knew he had to keep going.
"Oh, I can kill you human, do not worry about that." The demoness raised both her hands high into the air and began gathering the black energy. Chance's eyes grew wide when he saw the size of the spell she was gathering, but his body was too hurt to move out of the way – maybe she would kill him again.
At first Alessa had tried to fight the demoness’ freezing spell, but she just relaxed when she heard Cole’s voice in her head, trying to save strength for the fight that was coming. She eyed her lover as he attacked the creature. That hateful sword was in his hand, and it seemed to aid him in strength and speed, and yet it wasn’t enough. The demoness had the upper hand and Chance was failing. Afraid for him, she forced herself to move again, but couldn’t. She couldn’t even scream for him. Frustrated she closed her eyes, only to open them again. *He’s strong,* she said to herself, *and he’s not alone.*
Darian struggled back to his feet, while brushing the dirt from his eyes. *Bloody bitch packs a punch.* He managed to gather his thoughts just in time to see Proserpexa accumulate her terrible magic into a large dark sphere which she was preparing to unleash on a helpless Chance.
"NO!" The fae's powerful legs propelled him with lightning speed towards his target. Just as the black orb flew forwards, Darian knocked Chance out of the way, allowing the spell to hit him instead. "ARHHHH!" Black energy crackled around his body scorching his skin.
Above all other things, Tash really hated to feel helpless. Stuck in this ridiculous pose, with one arm raised high ready to strike at an opponent who had now moved away, she could just see Cole from the corner of her eye. Although his face was as frozen as hers, she fancied she could see a hint of concentration in his eyes. As Darian's scream cut through the air, flooding her system with more unusable adrenaline, she noticed Cole slowly beginning to glow softly. A pale blue energy built around him until with an almost audible pop Tash suddenly found her knife whistling downwards. She lunged forward, trying to engage the demon again, this time aiming her blow for a soft spot behind the demon queen's knee. The tip of the blade sank into her flesh and Tash grinned; there were weaknesses to be exploited, after all.
Proserpexa growled and loosed a backhand strike at Tash, who flew backwards at the stunning blow. She distinctly heard her ribs crack, but managed to wrest the knife free of the demon's flesh, holding onto her weapon as she fell. "Oof," she grunted as she landed hard on the ground, one leg bent awkwardly. Rising slowly to her feet she stumbled forwards again, determination on her features.
A flashing blade suddenly sliced though the demon queen’s medusa hair, shrill screams filling the air as the tiny, writhing serpents rained onto the ground just short of Reah who was crouching low, clutching her ribs after her leaping sneak attack. She grinned venomously at the raging demoness, “That’ll be eight dollars.”
“WORM!” Reah was sent sprawling as Proserpexa backhanded her away with a surge of power that flowed into the gesture. Black ooze poured over the demon queen’s features.
Cole's eyes began to darken slightly as he extended a hand towards his enemy. "Fire of Orion’s star, Burning, searing, shinning far, Be here now, your blazing might, Ashes, cinder, flame take flight."
A large ball of orange flame exploded into Proserpexa, this time sending the hellion stumbling back. The screams of pain from her mouths were enough to give the heroes some hope – she wasn’t indestructible.
"You wield magics, human. You must be the first to fall." With a twist of her wrists the ground around Cole began to shake as multiple snakes began to slither out of the dirt. It took all of Cole's concentration to protect himself from the mystical beasts.
From her position at the demoness’ back, Alessa saw her throw her spell at Cole. She shivered. *Snakes!* Taking advantage of the demoness’ distraction, Alessa attacked. Her hands changed into claws as she jumped on the creature, but she had to slash several times before the thick hide opened in shallow gashes.
Proserpexa screamed, more out of rage than pain, and her powerful arms thrust backwards, trying to get to Alessa who was still clinging to her back. The demoness couldn’t reach her, but her body was so slippery from the blood oozing from her snake-hair that Alessa couldn’t grab her with enough strength, and in another shake of her body she fell to the ground. The demoness turned then, and her mouths grew in a contemptuous smile.
“Is that all you have, human?”
Alessa lithely sprung up, and realized she was too close to the beast. She looked up at the evil eyes and smiled, albeit weakly. “Not really,” she said and sprang forward as she morphed.
But Proserpexa just laughed and grabbed Alessa as she hit her. With a powerful arm, she held Alessa still against her body. Alessa felt powerless as she struggled futilely against the superior strength of her opponent. She looked around trying to find a weapon to use against the demoness, but there was none she could reach. She turned to her friends then, and relaxed to save energy. At least she had made Proserpexa lose her concentration and the mystical snakes that had been attacking Cole had disappeared.
Despite the pain in her ribs, Tash knew she had to get Alessa away from the demon. She could see Chance also advancing, his intent obvious. Then Cole's voice cut through the fog of pain and adrenaline in a telepathic shout. *Tash, get everyone down. I need you all clear of her.*
She blinked, and wondered how well Cole knew her in the future. He'd been careful to keep some bits hidden and she hadn't seen much of herself in his memories, but he obviously knew her abilities well, if nothing else. Even as these thoughts flashed through her mind she was moving, pulling her gun from its holster and placing it point-blank in the crook of Proserpexa's elbow. *Weak points,* she mused, *Here goes nothing.*
"Chance, get down, get out of range of Cole," she hissed at the man as he ducked under the demoness' swings at him with her free arm. Tash was, however, grateful that the demon saw Chance as a greater threat, allowing her such proximity. She pulled the trigger, blasting a chunk from the arm that held Alessa tightly. It wasn't nearly as large as Tash had hoped, but it was enough for her and Chance to pull Alessa free and dive to the ground.
"NOW!" Tash screamed mentally and out loud to Cole, even as Proserpexa roared in real pain and lashed out in retaliation at the trio.
There were no options left, it had come to this. Somewhere deep down he knew it would, but he had hoped otherwise. Cole blinked and when his eyes opened again they were no longer blue, instead pure black. His feet began to rise slowly off the ground as the power of the magical energy lifted him from Earth. With a wave of his hand Chance, Tash, Alessa, Reah and Darian were all teleported behind him. The sizzling energy that was killing Darian suddenly dissipated, leaving him unconscious but alive.
Cole chanced a small glance backwards to make sure they were all right, and once he was satisfied, he turned his sights back on Proserpexa. His hair turned black.
"By Hela, mistress of Sleet-Den, Taker of the souls of men." A blue flame appeared to his left.
"Lucifer, lying prince who fell from grace, Leave thy throne, and come with haste." An orange flame appeared to his right.
"Hecate, queen of magic dark, Anoint the vessel with your mark." A purple flame appeared in back and slightly to his left.
"Lord of vipers great and small, Set, king of darkness, hear the call." A green flame appeared to his rear right.
"Hades, master of the shadow realm, Lead the four at the helm." A final black flame appeared in front.
"With Hades at the lead, the points have met, Hela, Lucifer, Hecate and Set.". One by one the flames began to extend to each other, forming a blazing pentagram around the mage.
"My flesh and blood are yours to take, In return, leave naught in your wake. The sacrifice is within thy star, Now Gods of darkness maim and mar."
As the final words of the chant fell from his lips, the flames rose to immeasurable heights before culminating into a single stream. The line of fire rushed from the pentagram and washed over Proserpexa, bathing her in the horrible magic. As the fire faded Cole fell back down to earth, his eyes and hair returning back to their normal colour.
Tash watched in amazement at the results of Cole's spell – nothing was left of the demon queen but a smouldering pile of... well, meat was the only word Tash could think of to describe it. The most horrifying part was that it wasn't dead. Proserpexa still moved within that burned husk, her mouths opening in a high-pitched keening that chilled the soul. Chance flourished his sword and strode down the hill towards the hellion, staring down at it for a brief instant as she howled her rage and pain.
The sword almost seemed to lift itself as he raised it above his head and brought it down on Proserpexa's neck, severing it cleanly. Black blood sprayed upwards at the blow, and for just the barest moment Chance's eyes glowed a rich emerald. The lifeless eyes of the demon queen seemed to stare up at him malevolently, until the head and body both just caved in on themselves, crumbling to a fine powder. Chance turned and smiled grimly. "It's done."
On the hillside, Tash checked her fallen friends. Reah was at least still conscious, though obviously not in good shape. Alessa had changed form back to human and seemed relatively unhurt. Cole was barely conscious, and Darian... "Oh God, Darian."
She limped to where he lay, feeling gently at his blackened skin for a pulse. It was there, weak but steady. At her touch he moaned and tried to turn his head. "Darian, it's Tash. It's over, it's ok. We defeated her. Cole..." She paused, her voice turning sombre. "Cole weakened her with a spell."
She hadn't the heart to tell him how badly Cole seemed to be faring. Her brow furrowed as she wondered what would happen to him now that he'd averted the very events that would lead to his particular future. Would he pop back to some alternate dimension where Proserpexa still reigned? Would he cease to exist entirely? Would he stay on, a kind of double to their Cole? It made her head hurt just thinking about it.
Alessa smiled brightly at Chance and received a cocky smile in response. It was over, it finally was, and they were all alive. She looked around at the devastation of the site and shivered again, she watched as Tash hobbled towards Darian and then she thought of Cole. She looked at him; he was still lying where he had fallen. She rushed to his side and knelt next to him. He wasn’t unconscious but he was very weak.
Carefully, Alessa put his head on her lap. Strangely it weighed almost nothing. His eyes were closed and he had a deathly pallor. He was drained of power. *And life,* she added to herself, feeling her eyes fill with tears. Alessa felt a lump in her chest, and couldn’t talk; she just brushed his hair from her forehead.
Darian held a charred hand up to Tash. "Let me see him," he croaked.
Tash hesitated, biting her lip. "You're badly hurt," she protested.
"I don't care. Let me see him."
Despite her own injuries, Reah struggled with Tash to shift Darian closer to where Cole lay with his head in Alessa's lap. Chance wiped the demon's blood from his blade and hunkered down just beside his lover, a strange look on his face as he watched the features of the man Cole would one day become.
Tash held her hand out to grasp Cole's, and he offered her a wan smile before looking up at Alessa's face, and Chance's. "Don't be sad. I'm dying, that's all. It's probably just as well. With her dead I should never have existed in this reality anyway. But it was good to see you again, after all these years."
He sighed softly, his eyes beginning to dim. "Darian? I just wanted to thank you – you were always there for me when I needed you. I felt like you were…”
Alessa's tears splashed onto Cole's still features as the light faded completely from his blue eyes. Chance reached out and gently closed them. "Farewell," he whispered.
The five sat in silence for several moments, then Alessa gasped. "He's getting lighter, I'm sure of it," she explained. They watched as Cole's body grew fainter, gradually vanishing into nothingness.
Tash wiped a tear from her eye. “Well, at least that's one question answered, I guess.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday, 6th December 2006 – 10:46am
Poplar Avenue, Apartment 109
Sitting in Darian's flat, wrapping gauze around the worst of his burns, Tash tried not to worry too much about how Reah was faring upstairs. When they’d returned from the devastation at Sunnydale Alessa and Chance had taken Reah to her apartment while Tash and Darian had gone to his, where they'd sent Quin upstairs to help take care of her cousin. Alessa and Chance had left soon after, poking their heads in Darian's door just long enough to say goodbye. They'd offered to help, of course, but they'd looked so tired that both Tash and Darian had said they were fine to tend each other.
So now Tash sat with a bandage around her cracked ribs while she dressed Darian's burns as gently as she could, but for all her care she knew he hurt all over and every touch was agony. "I'm sorry," she said for what seemed the fiftieth time as Darian flinched. "I promise I'm nearly done."
“Don’t worry about it. At least we’re all alive, and that’s what really matters, right?” Darian replied with a weak smile. “Plus, ever since the time Evexus took control, it seems my healing has sped up. I guess it’s the perks of having an evil faery living in your body.”
Tash laughed gingerly, protecting her sore ribs. She had to admire the way Darian tried to put a good spin on every situation. “Then all you need is a good slee-”
“Hello..?”
Tash and Darian fell quiet as both of their gazes turned to the corridor leading to Darian’s room. Standing there was Cole, looking sheepish and rather small in Darian’s far too large clothes. The look on his face expressed how scared he was; it’s not every day you wake up not knowing where you are.
It was startling to see those blue eyes. Tash could still see them, twenty years and a lifetime of experience older as they faded and closed in death, but she shook off the image and gave Cole her best reassuring smile.
"Hi, Cole. Good to see you up and about. Do you remember me? It's Tash – from the Hyperion attack." Tash kept her smile steady, mindful of the terror in the boy's eyes.
The teen nodded slowly as he turned his sights on Darian. “You, you saved me that night.”
Darian exchanged a small glance with Tash. What was he supposed to say? The kid seemed so freaked out, he didn’t want to say anything upsetting – so he didn’t. Instead, he just nodded back.
“I… I don’t know… Why..? Who..? Why am I here?”
Tash rose carefully, stiffness already starting to set in. She knew she and Darian must present a frightening sight, injured as they were. "Cole, Darian found you passed out on the street and brought you here to recuperate." She didn't want to tell him too much right away, if he couldn't remember what he'd done. So she simply asked, "Do you remember how you got like that?"
Cole tried to remember back. He remembered walking the streets, giving up, emptying his bag of drugs, but then after that everything was fuzzy. “I don’t know,” he half lied, unsure of what to say.
“We’ve spoken with Chance,” Darian said calmly, guessing Cole had remembered more than he was saying. “He told us about the fight you had.”
Cole took a slight step back – he was definitely on the defensive. “I…” the boy started to speak, but instead just lowered his head.
“It’s ok kid, we all make mistakes. We’re just glad you’re ok,” Darian said comfortingly, as he stood up rather painfully.
“...Thanks…”
An awkward silence fell on the three, each unsure what to say next. Surprisingly, it was the teen who broke the ice. “You guys are hurt,” he commented as he finally took notice that Tash’s ribs were bandaged up and Darian’s entire upper body was covered in burns. “Did I..? I mean… while I was out… maybe with magic?” He was afraid to ask, wondering if he had brought any more pain to people’s lives.
"No, no," Tash quickly allayed Cole's fears. "It was..." She cast a sidelong glance at Darian. There was no way she was about to lay the burden of exactly what had happened over the past few days on the boy's shoulders right now – but he would need to be told sooner rather than later. Just not today. "We had a bit of a run in with a demon. It's ok, we got her. No, once we got your temperature down you pretty much just lay there."
“How long have I been-?”
“Almost a week,” Darian cut in quietly.
“Oh.” Cole was shocked. *A week? A full week?* “And…and you guys took care of me,” he added, rather embarrassed.
"Actually, Darian mostly took care of you. The rest of us popped in from time to time to see how you were doing, though." At Cole's unspoken question she smiled, "Yes, Alessa and Chance came to see how you were, too. They were worried."
A sudden spike of fear flared from Cole's aura, and Tash knew what was troubling him. His terror was so great she could almost see again the vision of Alessa and Chance dying in the cemetery. She'd seen that dream in the other Cole's memories. "It's ok. They're fine. In fact, neither of them really were hurt by the demon at all."
“How did you..?” He didn’t bother finishing the sentence, he was afraid the answer would just confuse him even more. All that mattered was that Alessa and Chance were alive.
Cole was beginning to sway on his feet, so Tash gestured to a chair. As Cole rested reluctantly but gratefully in the seat Tash spoke, "I'm a telepath. I have the ability to read emotions from auras, and strong thoughts come through to me even if I'm not concentrating. That's how."
Tash settled herself back on the couch she'd risen from and continued, "In fact, you've got your own talents, though perhaps a little better control is needed at this stage. I'm forming a group of people who can help each other with information and with training – there are a couple of very accomplished witches in the group – and I'd love you to consider joining."
“That’s a really nice offer, but I don’t think I could be much help. All you guys are so strong, but me….” He waited a moment, considering his next words. “Plus, I’m not doing magic any more. I just end up hurting people, myself included.”
Tash looked at Darian. She knew how strong Cole would become; with the proper guidance and training he would be an enormous force for good. But there was no way to convince him of that now, not without telling him more than he was ready to hear today. "Cole, you'd be surprised how much help you could be. But you don't have to make up your mind right this second. Spend some time thinking about it."
Cole looked down, trying to avoid their stares. “I’m sorry, I just can’t do magic any more, it’s best for everyone that way. Look,” he continued as he stood from his chair, “you guys have been too nice to me, and I’m really, really grateful. I shouldn’t take any more of your time or space. I’ll get out of your hair.”
“So where are you planning on going?” the fae asked, concerned. Chance and Alessa had mentioned how he no longer had a home.
Cole was caught off-guard by the question. He wasn’t used to people caring where he went. Well, except for Alessa and Chance of course. “I’m going to go to… uh…”
“Cole,” Darian said, cutting the teen off, “just because you’re awake now doesn’t mean you have to run off. I’m not letting you leave if you’ve got no place to go. If you want, I can drive you over to Chance’s and Alessa’s house. That, or you can stay here.”
“Chance…” Cole blinked, remembering back to the fight they’d had. He couldn’t see him now, not yet.
Darian picked up on what the boy was thinking. “So then, you can stay here. I’ve got the empty guest room which is going to waste. And I can always use the company,” he finished, trying to reassure the teen.
Tash grinned, "Sounds like the perfect solution to me." Her expression grew more serious as Cole turned to look at her. "There's no way we'd see you go roaming the streets again. Please stay – you'd be more of a 'burden' to us if we were worrying where you were sleeping."
"But… I don’t..." He paused, looking at the firm expressions on both Tash's and Darian's faces. "Are you sure?"
"Of course we're sure," Darian said with a smile.
A tentative smile crept over Cole's face and soon he was ensconced in the shower, washing off the sweat from his days in bed. Tash finished the last bits of bandaging on Darian then called goodbye to Cole through the bathroom door, promising to see him in a couple of days, before she hobbled to the front door.
At the door she paused and looked back at Darian. "When you're better, take him clothes shopping. Charge everything to the Foundation, this address."
Darian opened his mouth to protest, but Tash held up a hand. "No, I don't want to hear it. Just do it. I'm going to sleep, and if anyone comes saying the end of the world's here – don't knock on my goddamn door, ok?"
"Yeah, I’ll make sure to tell the apocalypse you're on vacation."
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 14th
Alessa’s house
11:30 pm
Alessa was getting ready for bed; she had had a shower and washed her hair. She liked to do that at night, after Chance went out hunting, but since she had started accompanying him she hadn't had those times for herself. And last month had been hectic to say the least. *I really need a break,* she thought, while she toweled her hair. She was about to don her nightgown when a knock sounded on the door. She frowned and checked her watch, it was 11:30. Who could be calling at these hours?
She pulled the robe tighter around her body and went to answer the door. She looked through the spy hole and couldn’t see anybody. A little worried, she took a stake from the chest full of weapons they kept next to the door and dared to open it. She was startled when she saw James standing there, smiling his beguiling smile.
James looked at her, noticing the wet hair and robe and took a step forward towards the door.
"Can I come in?" As James moved into the door he was forced back violently by a magical barrier. “Son of a..." James looked up and smiled. "Hey, sorry about that… how have you been?" He shook his numb hand violently trying to get feeling back into it.
The first thing Alessa thought about was the nerve of the man! *Vampire!* She was angry at his wanting to intrude without permission, and at his assumption that she would greet such actions. Then the immensity of what had happened dawned on her. He hadn't been able to enter her house!! She was so happy she could have danced. A vampire hadn't been able to enter her house!
She looked at James and laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes. But when she saw his hurt expression she took a breath to be able to talk. She gave him a brilliant smile, she was so happy she just couldn’t help herself.
“I’m sorry James, I’m not laughing at you. Although it serves you right for trying to enter my house uninvited!” She got more serious and explained, “I was a little worried vampires could just enter my house, but now I know they can't. For that I have to thank you.”
She wiggled her finger at him, “You see, it seems I’m human enough to keep your kind out of my home.” She laughed again when his expression confirmed her suspicions. He had believed her a full demon.
“What are you doing here?” she asked when she finally stopped laughing, taking a quick look around. But Chance had been gone for only half an hour, so he wouldn’t be coming back for some time still. She wouldn’t want to know his reaction if he knew she was talking to James again.
James was still rubbing his hand when he gave a fake laugh.
"Why is it that little things hurt more than big ones?" He saw the expression on her face but ignored it. "Anyway, it has to do with that Morris guy you asked me about. I've heard some things about him... none of them good."
James leaned against the wall and coked his head sideways "What I heard is that he is trying to recruit any vamp who will take him as his leader."
When he saw her alarmed expression he added. "But on a positive spin to that, he’s younger than some of my books so he isn’t attracting a lot of muscle in the way of demons and vampires. The problem is he is recruiting some lesser mages and even turning some prospective ones in the hopes of building himself a small army of special vampires. Of course all the mages are new... I mean, really new, no self respecting warlock is going to align himself with a vampire.”
At his words Alessa frowned. *Magicians?* That could be very bad, worse than James supposed. She knew Morris; he had been an intelligent and determined man, and no doubt those qualities were still there. And an army of vampires wise in magic could be quite nasty, unless… She looked at James again, and saw truthfulness in his eyes; James wasn’t lying and he hadn't reason to do so anyway. Which led to the interesting question of his reasons for helping her.
She remembered his swift kiss the other night, and wondered about that, not for the first time. She didn’t want to encourage him if he was interested, but at the same time she wanted to know more. She looked inside the apartment and shoved the idea from her mind. In that she had to agree with Chance, no way she was inviting a vampire in!! Friendly or not. *Or too friendly,* she added to herself.
Making up her mind, she told him to wait a minute and returned to the bedroom. Quickly she put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before opening the door again. Ignoring James' overly disappointed look she closed the door behind her and started down the stairs, but kept the stake in her hand. James raised an eyebrow at that and she just stared at him until he shrugged and started to follow.
“Come on, let’s talk by the pool, there is a bench there.” She led the vampire towards her favorite spot in the patio. The bench was semi-hidden behind some vines and the apartment, besides it was empty so they wouldn’t be heard. She sat down and signaled him to do so.
“Tell me more,” she asked.
James shrugged. "What more is there to say? The vampires he already has are weak and the ones he will surely get will be weak as well, nothing WE couldn’t handle."
“We? There’s no we, James.” She tried to put a straight face. “But I thank you for the information anyway. And the offer,” she added on second thought.
James dismissed her words with a wave of his hand. “Not a problem.” He moved closer to Alessa and looked into her eyes. "So, when does Chancey boy come back? I wouldn’t want him to walk in on us in an inopportune moment like this... he has the tendency to attack me when he sees me. No idea why, though.”
Alessa gave a nervous chuckle, and shoved him away, gently but strongly.
“No idea, huh? Maybe because you like hitting on his girlfriend?” she said jokingly but her eyes were serious. “You don’t have a chance here, James, please don’t try,” she asked, and hoped he understood that she was serious.
He gently stroked her cheek, and smirked. "Well, darling if you’re sure… but I'm here if you ever need me." He laughed quietly when Alessa turned her face away from his touch. He got up from the bench, and smoothly added, “Or if you ever change your mind...” He left the sentence lingering in the night’s air.
“I’m sure. That’s not gonna happen, James,” she said, but when she looked up to him she realized he had done his vanishing act again.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Saturday, 9th December 2006 – 6:30pm
Tarix nervously held the cheque in one hand and waited outside the deserted office and in the badly wallpapered corridor. For some reason making any sort of payments made her feel nervous and she didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the thought of losing money, and suddenly she’d get a cartoon image of green dollars flying away with wings. That cheered her slightly, but she knew the real reason she was nervous was the thought of facing Jonny again after the embarrassing ordeal at the restaurant. She knew the sooner Jonny, the manager of the building complex and owner of the Laughing Dog, would get back the faster she could go and do more research on the prophecy. So far she hadn’t gotten much information on it, and hadn’t talked to Thule since his last visit.
She heard footsteps and looked up to find Jonny coming towards her, and she smiled weakly.
“Well hello there, little lady. Nice to see you again, and really hoping you haven’t come here to ask for your job back, ‘cuz that’s not happening.” He chuckled, which made Tarix wish she could go back up and not face him.
“Um, no, I haven’t come for the job. I just came to pay this month’s rent,” she said, ignoring his rude chuckle.
“Ah, yes, ok, for that I welcome you. Do come in while I find the papers for you to sign.” Every month he made her, and most probably all his tenants, sign a piece of paper stating that they had paid and giving them a copy of the paper as a receipt.
She walked into the office and looked around and saw the same boring wallpaper as was in the corridor, but surprisingly the office was well kept and quite neat. As Jonny fiddled with the papers on his desk, Tarix looked around and saw a few pictures on the wall that were quite colourful and tasteful. She then looked around and her eyes fell on some papers and envelopes on the floor. She glanced at them and saw a familiar name:
To Darian Gray
She thought about Darian again and felt sad at his leaving, and even sadder at the pain he might have felt that he could take such a step as to leave.
“Um, Tarix, dear, if you would just sign here,” Jonny said, holding out a pen. Tarix looked up, grabbed the pen and signed, her thoughts still on the mail that might not see its recipient.
Curiosity got the better of her and she found herself asking Jonny about the letters. “So how are you going to deliver them? Are you going to send them back to sender?”
Jonny looked at the mail. “Oh, you mean Mr. Gray? Oh no, he sent a letter a few days ago and sent another address to redirect these to.”
Tarix stared at him in surprise. Had Darian found another accommodation so soon? “If you don’t mind me asking, what address is it?”
Jonny raised his eyebrow; he usually didn’t give personal information like that but because he knew Tarix and Darian were neighbours he knew they must have known each other. He hesitated at first but then gave it to Tarix on a piece of paper. Tarix walked out the office and looked down at the paper: 1318 Poplar Avenue. She got a determined look on her face and headed off.
Tash stood in front of the bathroom mirror, checking under the bandage over her ribs. They were still tender, but the bruising had faded considerably. It was times like this she really missed Matthias' healing touch. Sighing, she looked around at her filthy flat. Today was the first day since they’d returned from Sunnydale that she'd really felt like moving about much, and pizza boxes and Chinese takeout cartons littered the tabletop. She gathered them all together and stuffed them in a garbage bag, lugging the mess downstairs to the big rubbish container in the side alley. Her ribs twinged slightly, making her wince as she heaved the bag into the bin, then she turned her head over her shoulder sharply as she heard hesitant footsteps scuffing the pavement outside the front door of her building.
There was a young woman standing on the stone steps leading up to the entrance, glancing nervously up at the building and then back down to a piece of paper in her hand. But it was the woman's aura that caught Tash's attention. There was an awful lot of guilt buried in there – old, constant guilt. And right now a high level of anxiety spikes. But it was the rest of it that didn't seem to add up. Black specks and swirls marred the aura, yet it was also shot through with blues and purples and even a little white. It was almost as though the black was being gradually overwritten by the purple spirituality and the white purity.
Tash shook her head, puzzled by the incongruities, and instead focused on the woman's face. "Are you looking for someone here?" she asked, emerging from the side of the building.
Tarix was startled by the sudden appearance of someone and the voice that jerked her out of her thoughts. She looked up from the piece of paper and saw a woman standing there, wearing casual jeans and a shirt, with a loose jacket. She was also wearing black gloves to match her jacket, which would seem weird in such weather but Tarix noticed the woman was also taking out her garbage. But something peculiar caught her eye, and she noticed that this woman’s movements were jerky and she seemed stiff as if something might be paining her. Tarix looked up and tried to smile.
"Sorry, you startled me a bit." She thought she might introduce herself first before directly asking for what she was here for. Perhaps this woman knew something about Darian. Tarix held out her right hand and gripped the piece of paper tightly in the other, "Hey, my name’s Tarix".
Tash smiled in return and shook the proffered hand. "Hi, Tarix. I'm Tash. Can I help you with anything?"
Tarix looked around at the building and saw a huge structure loom over her. She decided it would be polite if she addressed Tash, so she once again looked at Tash. "Well, I'm sorry to disturb you," she said, feeling nervous. *Good grief girl, stop stalling and get out with it already.* "I'm trying to look for somebody named Darian, Darian Gray?"
Tash kept the smile on her face and quickly felt out Tarix's essence. Her answer would depend very much on what she found there. But all she sensed from Tarix was worry that Darian might not want to see her, and worry that he was all right. Certainly no animosity. Tash's smile relaxed into something more genuine.
"Yes, I know Darian," she said, "He's one of my tenants." Close enough to the truth, and it would certainly do for now. "I'll show you to his apartment."
She led Tarix through the hallway on the first floor until she reached apartment 109. Tash knocked, three clear raps of her gloved knuckles on the wood, and waited.
The two could hear the shuffling of feet from inside the apartment, as the fae made his way to the door. “Tash, is that..?” Darian’s expression went silent when he noticed that Natasha was not alone; next to her stood the young blonde woman he had met when he first arrived to LA.
“Tarix?” Her presence had definitely taken him off guard. “Uhh, hey, come in, come in,” he motioned to the two, as he moved back giving them room to enter.
Tarix hesitated and followed Tash into Darian's new apartment. She felt rather relieved to see that he was ok and that all seemed fine, but in a way she felt a bit left out. She didn't know why, but she felt slightly upset at not being told that he had not left LA. She didn't know how he got to where he was and her curiosity got the better of her. She remembered about what Darian told her and her eyes flickered to his neck and noticed the pendant wasn't there. *That means either he helped his friend or something went wrong.* And from Darian's behaviour something must have gone wrong. She looked back at Darian and suddenly noticed bruises on his face; she gasped quite loudly.
Tash glanced between the two. She was picking up chagrin from Darian, and disappointment from Tarix, and guessed that Darian had known the woman reasonably well but for whatever reason had 'forgotten' to tell her where he'd gone. Tash smiled apologetically at him, "I hope you don't mind me bringing Tarix here, Darian, but she already had your address."
She hadn't seen him since they'd returned to LA, and noticed that he was still moving a little stiffly, just as she was. She touched her ribs lightly and gave a shrugging sort of nod, indicating that she was healing as well as could be expected.
“No, why would I mind at all, me and Tarix are friends,” he replied with a timid smile, hoping the word friend would still be appropriate.
He turned to Tarix, “I’m really sorry I haven’t called you, or dropped by the old apartment to tell you I stayed in LA. It’s just that things have been pretty crazy lately; a lot has happened since last time we saw each other.” Darian waited anxiously to see Tarix’s reaction; would she be mad he’d disappeared without telling her?
She bit her lip and didn't know what to say, and felt guilty at not being there when Darian was in most distress. *With all this guilt I may soon have to create different sections of my memory sorting each type of guilt out.* She just remained quiet and looked at her feet. She still didn't know what to say; what could be said at a time like this? *I'm sorry? It's ok? Don't worry, I just discovered I killed my parents but I'm good now?*
Tash blinked and tried not to react to the girl’s thoughts, but a look of concern passed quickly over her face before she could stop it. *Is Tarix serious? It felt true. Shit...* Tarix's thoughts had been so laden with emotion that Tash could hardly have avoided picking them up. But there was a sense of... Tash couldn't quite put her finger on it. Like Tarix had been someone else at the time. Not possessed – just different. She remembered what she'd told Victor almost two years ago: I know you carry a lot from your past. All I can say is what's done is done. You have the opportunity to reinvent yourself every day, by the choices you make.
If it could apply to him, it should apply to everyone. Tarix's thought of 'but I'm good now' rang true as well, so Tash subsided, willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. But it didn't mean she wouldn't keep an eye on the girl. God knows Darian had had enough heartache recently.
The silence stretched out, as Darian's question to Tarix hung in the air, unanswered. Tash tried to catch Darian's eye surreptitiously – did he want her to leave him alone with Tarix?
Darian seemed to ignore Tash’s stare, his concentration still focused on the young woman. “Tarix, are things ok between us?” he asked again, his voice growing even shyer.
She looked up and tried to avoid his stare, but couldn't help it and returned the shyness. "On my part, yes it is." Her voice shook as said it, "But what about from your end? Are things ok with us?"
Her smile faded and she felt she'd said too much, but before he could say anything she continued, "I'm sorry Darian, I know you have probably gone through a lot. I can see the pain in your eyes. But I wouldn't know the rest now, would I? I have gone through a bit as well, so I guess all I'm hoping is that you don't feel alone in this."
She then glanced at Tash. *But he's not alone,* and from that she felt a bit more relieved and something else which she couldn't quite put her finger on. Maybe he didn't really need her.
Tash began to feel increasingly like a fifth wheel. Darian either hadn't noticed or ignored her unspoken question, so she cleared her throat gently. "Uh, maybe I should let you two catch up?"
Tarix and Tash exchanged their ‘good-byes’ as Darian led her to the door. “Yeah I think we have a bit of catching up to do,” he said to her quietly. “Oh and Tash, I hope you’re doing ok.”
She smiled back warmly, “You too, Darian. We’ll talk more later.”
Closing the door behind his friend, Darian turned back to Tarix. *Where to start?* “So, I guess the obvious question is how have you been doing?”
Tarix watched Tash leaving and then looked at Darian to address his question. She still felt tongue tied and didn't know how much she could tell him. Thule already felt she should have as little to do with strangers as possible, but nowadays Thule didn't talk to her much.
"You can say life's not been easy. There have been lots of revelations as well, things I wouldn't even have thought." She didn't want to say more on that and tried again to put on a smile, "But what about you? How have you been? When I saw that letter I thought you were gone for good."
The fae broke the eye contact with her, now looking down at his feet. "I planned on leaving. So much has happened in the last few months, too much. I just needed to get away from everything. But then Tash showed me I couldn’t run from my problems forever. After that, things are kinda blurry. I moved in here about a month ago, and I've kinda been bundled up inside ever since."
There was a long silence between the two, until Darian finally looked up and smiled slightly. "This town sure is crazy eh?" he said chuckling, trying to break the tension.
Tarix grinned, "I have a feeling New York might be a close competitor actually." The tension was slowly melting away and Tarix welcomed that and knew Darian would too. But she couldn't help turning serious again. "Tash is right, you shouldn't run away from your problems." He didn't know how much that applied to her as well. "But you shouldn’t keep them bundled up either."
"Why didn’t you tell me that before I went to the Hyperion alone?" he said, only to bring a quizzical look from his friend. "It’s a long story," he sighed, trying not to remember the time he spent being tortured by the Elders.
"The Hyperion?" She didn't go out much, so it wasn't a surprise that she had no clue what he was on about. "I guess we didn't see each other for a long time. At least you didn't have a sister who you thought was evil but isn't, and is a direct mirror image of you and might be part of a prophecy," Tarix blurted out and immediately felt she'd put her foot in her mouth. *I shouldn't have said that, Thule is so going to kill me.*
She tried to change the subject, "So why did you to the Hyper-thingy?"
Darian's eyes flashed wide with surprise. "Sounds like quite a story," he said, but didn’t push it; he could tell Tarix did not want to speak more about it, "and not much happened at the Hyperion. I spent about a week and half their being tortured by four Elder vampires, until the cavalry arrived. Then we pretty much saved the world from a certain apocalypse... you know, routine stuff." He added a wink.
Tarix's eye's widened with surprise. "Oh! I was wondering where you got those bruises from," she said, her voice heavy with concern and her eyes twinkling with regret again.
"What, these?" The fae couldn’t help but chuckle again. "No, the Hyperion stuff happened over a month ago. These are fresh from saving the world from another Armageddon."
"Man!" Tarix exclaimed, "You must really have Armageddon galore at your side." She smiled, this time not as shyly as before. "I'll let you know about any ‘ends of the world’ I come across then, eh?"
"Let's hope for all our sakes there won’t be any more 'ends of the world' for another while longer.”
Over an hour had passed without them so much as noticing; each telling more in detail the events that had happened in recent months.
Tarix was enjoying the chat she was having with Darian. She could never talk like this to Thule, even Jess. She felt most of her worries fading for a little time. That was, until she had a glance at her watch. "Oh my, it’s getting quite late. And I promised Jessy I'd be bringing the dinner home today."
Darian looked puzzled at the mention of the new name, and Tarix grinned again. "She's my sister I was telling you about." Tarix got up and waited for Darian to do so as well.
Darian rose and said, "You know, I’m glad you stopped by, and I want you to know I’m always here if ever you need someone to talk to."
Tarix went to the door. "Same here. You know where to find me. I hope we meet each other again, sooner rather than later." And with that Tarix also departed, hurrying to avoid feeling Jessy’s wrath at being late.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 15th, 2006
LA General Hospital
5:30 pm
“So that was it,” she finished. “It was pretty strange to know we changed the course of history, you know?” She smiled at Ernie, trying to cover her nervousness. She was beating around the bush; she had come to tell him about Morris and had ended talking about Cole’s travel from the future.
“Not really. Since that particular history hadn’t happened yet, it wasn’t as if you were changing anything after all. And how’s the boy, by the way?”
“Oh, Cole is fine, sort of... He woke up the morning after. By then the other Cole was gone.” Alessa closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of Cole’s head getting lighter and finally dissappearing from her lap. She fought the tears that came to her eyes. Her mind knew that Cole hadn’t really died in Sunnydale, but she couldn’t but feel sad about it. “But we haven’t seen him since then. The kid has been... strange, and we don’t want to press him.”
“He’ll come around,” Ernie said, noticing her worry. He didn’t want to think what that ‘we’ implied; he still was at odds with her living with the demon that had killed Andrea. Instead he added, “He must know you care for him, can’t believe he hasn’t noticed.”
“Yeah, he surely will...” she answered and stopped talking, absorbed in her thoughts.
“What is it, Alessandra? This isn’t about that boy, is it?”
Disturbed, Alessa looked around. She noticed that some of the carnations she had sent last week, when she hadn’t been able to visit her friend, were withering.
“Look at those flowers! At least they could change the water!” She stood up to take out the dying flowers.
“Alessandra? You are avoiding my question.”
“I know,” she said, still not facing him, while she arranged the remaining flowers in the vase again. Finally she sighed and leaned on the table.
Without turning she said, “It’s Morris.” She inhaled deeply before adding, “You were right. He was turned.”
When Ernie didn’t answer her for a couple of minutes she turned around. The old man was looking away, a strange look in his face. Alessa hated having to tell him this, but he had the right to know. She had been postponing it until he regained some of his strength back, though. She bit her lip, and looked away herself. She couldn’t stand her friend’s haunted look. His voice startled her.
“Tell me everything,” he said, and she did.
She told him about the Hyperion, about Morris steadily stalking her, his increased magic abilities, and finally about what she had learnt from James. Here and there he would ask a question, or add something, but basically it was her talking.
“So, you see, that’s the only real clue we have about him. He’s been covering his tracks quite well,” she said at last.
Ernie stayed silent again. Then he finally nodded. What she was telling him wasn’t a complete surprise. He had suspected about his turning, and he could imagine what a turned Morris would be like. All the things Alessa had said about him... they felt just like what he would become.
He felt a pang of sorrow for his dear friend. Morris had been more like a brother than a friend; he hated to confirm that he had ended like this. All his intelligence and wits and skills ill-used by a damned demon inhabiting his body.
"There were worse things than death," Alessa said, echoing his thoughts.
Objective Complete
Wednesday the 6th, December, 2006
Poplar Avenue - Reah’s apartment
11:19am
Reah sat gingerly on her bed, staring dead eyed at a nondescript section of her floor. The bed felt soft beneath her, nearly too soft! It really was beginning to irritate her in the worst fashion. Maybe she needed a new bed… She bounced lightly on the mattress and winced at the splitting pain that spidered out all over her body from the jolting movement, in particular her ribs.
*Ow!*
…
Was that a sprung spring she felt protruding into her-?
This was horrible. She’d never felt so rotten in her life, and contemplating mattresses only made the whole situation even more depressing than she thought was humanly possible!
She’d really cocked up. Nearly bringing down the literal, unstoppable end of the world ‘cocked up’! And if it weren’t for time-travel again…!
Would her life forever revolve around that? Did she even have a life left now that she’d done what she was trained to? Did she just go back to random nights on the hunt, again? It all seemed so frivolous…
Slipping further into her quiet depression, Reah began counting off the amount of times she’d cheated death. It seemed like a good idea at the time … until she discovered it just increased the progress of her depression.
Why did she always manage to survive? Did someone up there find some cruel joke in tormenting her like this? Why was it always the people she got close to that had to die, and she had to suffer by surviving?
Maybe she could end it herself! After all, it’s pretty hard to cheat your own bullet in your head.
…
Her objectives were complete. What was she supposed to do now? Go back and reopen the Armoury, only to be reminded of losing Joe? *Well,* she mentally mused with a cynical smirk, *At least the competition's out of the picture!*
Her smirk disappeared almost instantaneously though as she slipped right back to where she was. It was like some cold, harsh reminder of reality: sure, before she was a freak! But at least she was a freak with a purpose. Once again she didn’t belong in this world, and everything she longed for was lost to her forever. No matter what she did… she couldn’t do anything…
Not even a miracle could bring him back. You can’t bring back someone that didn’t exist.
Reah’s hand subconsciously reached inside her coat, wincing at the shooting pain that came from twisting her ribs ever so slightly, and pulled it back out, clutching one of her Ares Predators. She then just sat, contemplating her future, all the while gazing at the lethal weapon in her lap…
***
Quin stood quietly over the stove, methodically stirring the soup before her without much thought for what she was doing. Reaching across, she retrieved the watered down milk and steadily added another bit into the red, tomatoey mixture and continued to stir.
She hated being kept out of the loop. She was seventeen! Hardly a little snot nosed kid that needed protection. She had a brain and she knew something more than ‘slaying a demon’ had taken place in the past day.
And yet, she really sucked at playing the tough, yelling type. Quin returned to the apartment to find Reah horribly bloodied and bruised, which was nothing out of the ordinary, but as soon as she laid eyes on her cousin, she’d found herself soften. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Reah so… sad before.
So here she was, whipping up some creamy tomato soup, fresh from the can, for her dear cousin in vain hope to cheer her up.
The basil still needed chopping. Once she’d finished emptying the milky contents into the tomato, she figured she’d let it sit, stirring it now and again while she fetched the chopping board to-
‘BANG’
“AH!” Quin jumped, slipping with the knife, but didn’t notice the blood that welled from her finger tip as she stepped fearfully away from the bench, “… Reah?” she whispered softly to the air, then again with a bit more volume, but received no reply in return.
The dropped knife recklessly onto the ground with a loud ‘clang’ and Quin sprinted unmindful of any possible danger out of the kitchen toward her cousin’s room, wide eyed and panicked, “REAH!”
Quin burst in through the door, her eyes searching frantically till they settled on her dead-eyed cousin… just sitting on the bed, staring at the cupboard wall beside Quin.
She let out a deep sigh of relief, her heart still pounding like a jackhammer, and wandered casually in, sitting herself steadily at Reah’s side on the bed and following her cousin’s gaze to the shattered full length mirror; bullet hole piercing through its centre.
“That’s bad luck, you know?” Quin suddenly spoke up softly, not moving her eyes from the wreckage before the two of them.
Reah sighed in reply, slumping back as the gun fell from her limp hand, thudding onto the floor, “Good… Maybe it’ll cancel out the perpetual bad luck that is my life!”
Quin leaned into her cousin, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting her head on Reah’s slack shoulder.
After a moment, Reah’s arm painfully returned the gesture and the two just sat there, taking comfort in the others tender embrace.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
4th December,
10am
Place: Egypt, Cairo
“Not for you personally, but what you find will both ruin and destroy someone’s life.” The voice echoed over and over again in Sathawick’s head, the voice of Remorse. Sathwick had met him a few times in the past and all of those times his warnings, insight into the future, held much truth. Sathwick’s mind then turned towards Tarix, her face once again showing up as if right in front of his eyes, and he wondered if it would be her life that he could destroy, and he dreaded the thought. He once again began to analyse the path she had taken, as he had done before many times. For some reason he tried to see a bit about her personal life, her boyfriends, but it wasn’t that clear and he was starting to forget the lines on her face that told her past. In a way it was invading into other people’s business, but he hadn’t asked Thule to bring her there. He tried to think what she would be doing at that time, what she would be wearing, and suddenly a voice rudely interrupted his further flow of thoughts.
“This is your captain speaking, we have begun our decent towards the main Cairo airport and will be reaching there shortly. Please put your seat in an upward position and fasten your seat belts, until the plane has landed and come to a complete stop. Thank you.”
Sathwick sighed and looked out the window expecting to see many buildings down below but only saw whiteness in the cloud that loomed around the plane. The plane descended further and Facer started to make out the buildings he had hoped to see, and to none of his surprise a lot of the buildings had changed from the last time he seen them about forty years ago. The plane finally landed, with a great thump, and started to taxi towards the nearest free space.
***
“LA, INTI HUMARUN KABIR.” The old man screamed at a younger boy, whom Sathawick noticed might have stolen something. A feeling of nostalgia came over him as he heard the very familiar mother tongue of his that he hadn’t spoken in a long time, even though the words were somewhat rude and insulting. He waited until the old man had finished cursing and reverted back behind the counter of his small business in the large Cairo market place.
He approached the old man and greeted him, “Hello there, Sah Abdulah Makbool. How have you been, man?”
The old man looked up at him. “Eh?” His eyes opened wide and he fumbled on his table until his hands came upon him glasses, and he quickly put them on. “Meen inta?” he asked.
Sathawick let out a laugh. “Who am I? Don’t tell me you don’t remember me? It's only been forty years,” he said, still grinning as the look of recognition fell on Abdulah’s face.
“Ya Allah! Sathawee!!!!” he exclaimed and quickly and jollily came out from the back and embraced Facer and touched his cheek with Sathawick's on each side twice, as was the traditional greeting. “Marhaba! Kaifa halak?” he said after he had released Facer from his grip.
Sathawick took a breath, “I’m fine thanks, how are you?”
The old man narrowed his eyes, “Marhaba, kaifa halek?” he asked again with more emphasis on each word he said.
“I’m fine, you old fool, do you not hear proper, or did you forget your English?”
But Abdulah ignored it again. “Marhaba Sathwee, Kai fa ha lek!?”
Facer finally understood and rolled his eyes. “Ana bekhar wa al humdu lil Allah,” he replied in Arabic and the old man this time smiled, showing his browned teeth, probably from smoking to much sheesha.
“Ah, Sathawee, good to know you still speaka a bit Arabya. Not see you long time. By Allah, the family thought you be dead. But of course we stop thinking that every time we get a letter from you.” He chuckled and led Facer to the back side of the bakala, the entrance of which was covered in a beaded curtain. Facer went through the curtain and came into a room that was covered in pictures of Arabic singers and actors and also held the familiar smell of the sheesha. Most probably this was a resting place for Abdulah to come out once or twice an hour to have a smoke. Facer sat down on one of the wooden chairs that were around the table that lay in the middle of the room.
Abdulah excused himself and went further back and a while later came with two cups that looked miniature compared to the standard size that Facer was used to, and had he not known these cups were used to drink the ever-strong Turkish coffee that could only be taken in small quantity and black, he would have thought the cups were stolen from a child’s tea party.
Facer graciously accepted the coffee and took a sip before putting it on the table in front of him. Abdulah sat down in front of Sathawick and they started to chat about the old times, what Sathawick had missed in the capital city over the many years. Sathawick had had great contact with Abdulah’s family. It was Abdulah’s great, great grandfather that had taken care of Sathwick when he had been cursed. Facer remembered that day as if it were yesterday. How he had been cursed and frightened by the voice and how he had come over almost in tears, walking for many days not knowing what to do.
Until the authorities had found him and arrested him, thinking he had killed the archaeologist and his team. But after everything had been cleared out and many witnesses reported that the boy wouldn’t even hurt a fly, Facer was released with the mystery still unsolved and the police still partly suspicious. He didn’t know what to do as his only home was with the former deceased.
After he had wandered around the market place, living on the streets, a kind man by the name of Mahmood Makbool had come and helped him out, time to time giving him something to eat out of pity. The boy told the man all about himself but the man thought the boy's imagination must be running loose and didn’t pay it much heed. The boy however didn’t care whether the man believed it or not and paid the man back slowly by doing chores for him, for the kindness he had shown him. It wasn’t long that that he started living with the Makbools. The man’s family was as kind as he was and very generous. Because at that time they didn’t have a child of their own, they adopted Sathawick and even put him throw the local school.
Sathawick went through life after that as a normal boy finishing primary study and then taking leave of the family for a while to go into the main town to work so that he could earn enough to get through college. It took him about seven years to earn enough and graduate through the college, during which he had been receiving letters from the Makbool family who now had five kids over the years and regarded Sathawick’s arrival as a blessing.
Sathawick did a job in the city center for a few years and came back to the Makbools after twenty years and much had changed, but they still loved Sathawick more than ever and still welcomed him into the family like always. However they did notice that Sathawick didn’t seem to age, even after the many years he looked like the boy that had arrived on their doorstep a few decades ago. The Makbools finally believed what they had heard from the boy about the mysterious happenings and the curse, and vowed not to tell anyone. They still looked at Sathawick as a member of their family, and grew very sad when Sathawick announced he wanted to be an archaeologist and travel to South Asia. But nevertheless they bid him farewell, making him promise he'd write to them and in turn they’ll write to him.
As Sathawick traveled all over South Asia learning new languages and also coming across the art to read faces which he learned from a very wise man in what at that time was India but later divided into two countries, Pakistan and India. After the man met Facer and instantly saw him as who he was, Facer became interested in the art of facial reading and then there spent many years acquiring the art until he became perhaps wiser then the old man himself. At that time the partition over the country took place and Sathawick came out of South Asia and traveled to America, his curiosity taking him there. He mainly traveled to Mexico and did a bit of archaeological digs, and came to America and did the same. He lived there for nine years, during that time coming into contact with the Order of Valor a few times.
He started to miss his home country and came back to visit Cairo again and came once again to the Makbools who had still been in very close contact to him. Facer had learned that it had been many years that Mahmood and his wife had been dead, and even most of their children had died. It was Mahmood’s grandchildren and great grandchildren that were now in touch with him. Facer came to Cairo to find the Makbools to be filled with faces of strangers, but they still made him feel like a member of the family.
Sathawick had still kept his promise about writing back and even though the person he first made the promise too had died, the family still remembered it and were ever so happy to hear from someone who was so old. It was a traditionally kept secret within the family which many family members loved to hear over and over again as if some legend or adventure, even though Sathawick wasn’t that great an adventurer. Some members of the family were awed by the fact that this person being mentioned never aged and could be about more than four times older then them and looked younger or just the same age as them. Others had a hard time believing it, and when one day they heard that Sathawick would be coming back to meet them, they were very happy to finally to get meet an old face and to hear what it was like and to judge the “legend” for themselves. Curiosity took them as they all waited, the youngest children to the oldest of the fathers of those children. When Sathawick finally came many of the children surrounded him and bombarded him with questions that when finally Facer was through answering them he was more tired then the jet lag he had had.
Sathawick had helped them many times financially, sending them money remembering how the old Mahmood had helped him out. Sathawick was now in touch with Mahmood IV who himself was an old man and had nine children. Out of which the youngest was called Abdulah, a not so bright, but very enthusiastic young man who was sixteen when he met Sathawick.
Now Abdulah sat in front of Facer’s very eyes an old man, whose father had also passed away, and that engulfed Facer with the sadness of time passing him by so quickly and him not even noticing it.
“So, habiby, how come you give me this bleasure of your visit?” Abdulah asked and Sathawick couldn’t help laughing quietly at the Arabs who still had not learned to pronounce a “p” as a “p”, and not as a “b” as they always did, due to the lack of such sound in their own alphabets.
“Actually Abdulah, believe or not it is sort of a business trip. I was sent here to meet a correspondent who I believe could lead me to the tomb of Kh’Kum. He one of the not so famous Pharaohs a long time ago,” Sathawick answered.
“Ah! Kh’kum!” Abdulah said as he got up and took out his sheesha and sat back down to smoke it.
Sathawick was surprised. “You know Kh’Kum?”
Abdulah nodded his head smoking the sheesha, which made a bubbling sound. “La`, never heard of him. But nice name,” he said and started to laugh which broke out into a coughing fit.
“Abdulah, you Himar,” Sathawick said, lightly hitting him in the shoulder. “I came here in search of the tomb of Kum’Wa and Kh’Kum and I have a feeling they are both in the same place.”
Abdulah looked thoughtful, “If there is a tomb, I know not of it. But then again I know not of many of the tombs. But many architects may do.” Facer decided not to correct him and continued to listen. “Have you asked any that may know of where it is?”
“Actually I checked many journals and did get in touch with many of my contacts before coming here but nobody has heard anything whatsoever. Some think that they may have heard the name but can’t put a finger on it."
“Yes, but perhaps you need to put your brain on it, no?” Abdulah remarked and laughed. “I do know that Egypt, place of great mystery. This place does not easily open up to strangers, strangers like the many architects.” Abdulah leaned towards Facer. “But you my friend are not a stranger. So you may have more chance of finding what you want than strangers, I believe.”
“Perhaps you are right. Still I have been led to believe the tomb is somewhere in the Lake Nasser.”
“Ah, Lake Nasser, very beautiful place. So I’ve heard, but never been to. But it is a place sought out many times, how a tomb lie there never be find?”
Sathawick thought about this once again as he had done before and quietly replied, “Perhaps people have only looked on land. What of inside the Lake itself?”
Abdulah laughed “La’ Sathawee, how can it be? Eh? Not possible.”
“No, but it is. The mysteries of the ancient Egyptian methods still remain a mystery. First people thought that Pharaohs are buried in great pyramids, and then they discovered the valley of the Kings. Perhaps just to hide the tomb further, protect it more it is deep within the Nasser Lake?”
“Hmm, perhaps. But I feel curious. How you know it be in Lake Nasser, when no else hear it?”
“Well, I have a “friend” back in America who found this other guy to do this locator spell on the codex of Kh’Kum, which may also lead to the tomb of Kh’Kum and Kum’Wa. But the tombs are well protected by a spell and all I could get was the location of somewhere in the deep midst of Nasser.”
Abdulah smiled. “Habbiby, I hope you the best. May Allah help you find what you want. I will do anything to help. But first you must come home and meet family, and rest.”
“Shakrun, Abdulah, but I should be heading towards Nasser, and Nasser being all the way down the Lake of Nile it would be many hours before I reach there.”
“La, I will not take no for an answer. You will come with me. We will have lots of Sheesha together, and also Verk Al Anub*, wife make. Also children love to be meeting you.”
Sathawick sighed. He did still have jet lag, and a relaxing evening before another long journey did seem more appealing. In the end he accepted the offer, which made old man Abdulah very happy indeed.
Author’s Note: I have including many dialects in Arabic. As I have lived in Kuwait I have picked them up, but I apologise to say many may be slightly wrong as I am nowhere near fluent in the language. Also the Arabic I have written above is more of a basic kind, and I have heard Egyptian Arabic is just slightly different, either in accent wise or just how people use the words. Thus I have refrained from going to deep into the Arabic, because I only know few words and phrases.
*A Virk Al Anub is another dish, very nice, of rice cooked with spices of sorts and wrapped in grape wine leaves which are soaked in vinegar beforehand. They are indeed very nice, and usually eaten as a starter, and I recommend if you see any do try them.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 17th
8:00 pm
Alessa’s and Chance’s apartment
For once they had stayed home that evening. After returning from Sunnydale both had been somewhat high strung and overanxious. Alessa guessed that knowing how close they had been to dying had done that to them. But they had reacted in different ways; Chance had gone hunting every night, while she hadn’t almost left the apartment. She had stopped herself from crying on several occasions, sometimes over the smallest things. Chance was nervous too, and she had found him lost in his thoughts more than once.
They were anxious about Cole too. The kid’s refusal to see them hadn’t been easy to assume. Especially for Chance, she hadn’t talked about it with him but she guessed he had felt hurt when the boy had decided to stay at Darian’s instead of coming to their apartment. She had tried to rationalize the situation, telling herself that he may not want to intrude between Chance and her, but she knew she was a little hurt too. And that didn’t explain why he hadn’t come to visit and refused to talk to them every time they called.
She was startled by Chance’s talking to her. She wasn’t paying much attention to him or the TV set.
“Hungry?” he asked, standing from the sofa to stretch.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am,” she said. “I didn’t think about it until you mentioned it. I’d like a beer too.”
The thought of beer propelled Chance towards the refrigerator which held six longnecks of his favorite, and almost nothing else. He took two bottles out of the fridge and twisting off the cap, he looked around the kitchen. Opening the cupboards, he noticed there wasn’t much in the way of food there either. He wasn’t surprised, she almost hadn't set foot out of the apartment apart from a couple of hospital visits and travels to the library to search those sci-fi books of hers. Sighing, he returned to the living room, sipping his beer.
“Here,” he said leaning over the sofa to give her the bottle. “What about ordering a pizza?” he asked, but Alessa was so engrossed in the TV she reached for her beer without even looking at him. She had turned up the volume and was watching the 8:00 news. He sat down beside her and paid attention to see what had her so absorbed. Almost immediately he straightened when he listened to the pretty reporter.
“Breaking news. The LA police department will start doing investigations after violence struck outside a local club around 11:30-11:45 pm yesterday. Police arrived at Club Vosrazhenie, a popular night spot in L.A., to find five bouncers dead and a young patron in critical condition.”
“Reports say that three bouncers, all unidentified at this time, were found in an alley right next to the club with their necks in a full 180° twist. The bodies were discovered when paramedics were taking twenty four year old Dominika Lautari, who has lost a great deal of blood, away.”
The camara left the blond reporter, and the scene changed to show the entrance of a very stylish looking nightclub. In front of it a couple of paramedics were raising a stretcher with a girl to an ambulance. Beside her there was another girl who looked very familiar.
The screen showed the reporter again.
“Dominika was attacked by (currently) an unidentified assailant when the victim’s twenty six year old sister Adriana discovered the attack. According to police reports, Adriana shouted for help. Then, patrons were pinned to the wall of the club, both inside and out, and the electricity zapped out for a good fifteen seconds.”
“Adriana!” Chance almost shouted. No wonder the girl had looked familiar, she was Bob’s waitress, he was sure of that.
Alessa looked at him, surprised. “Do you know her?” she asked.
“Shh!” he hushed her, so he could hear the rest of the note.
“... there have been no interviews with the sister, who has become quite traumatized by the event, say the LAPD. Representatives of Club Vosrazhenie refuse to comment. The club is owned by Yuri Polyakov, the alleged Russian crime boss who is on trial in Moscow for numerous charges including murder, rape, kidnapping, and bribery.”
“The police strongly suspect a mob war, especially since similar events have been happening in different nightclubs all around the city.”
“More updates later on in the show.”
Once the show started on other news, Alessa turned to Chance again. “Who is she?” she asked, intrigued.
“She’s the girl I talked to you about. The waitress at Bob’s. Damn! I told her to be careful!” he added, a little guilty of not having checked on the girl for so long.
“Well, this didn’t happen at Bob’s.” Alessa said. “I was interested because it mentioned other night clubs as well, the reporter was talking about the Azul too.” At his questioning looks she added, “The nightclub where I saw Morris before, remember I told you? When I went with Inés?”
Chance nodded. He remembered it, but at the time he had been more interested in what she had been doing in a nightclub at all, than about the place’s name. And about that elusive cousin he still had to meet. It was as if Alessa was afraid of introducing him to the demoness.
“Besides she mentioned some strange happenings during most of the incidents. Here there was a blackout, but in a Punk discotheque the patrons and staff suffered a general nausea, and in the Azul some burnt bodies were discoveried. Really burnt I mean, unrecognizable.” She chewed her lip, thinking. “I belive Morris may be behind these attacks, what do you think?”
“He may be, it seems the kind of thing a mage would do.” He stood up. “Come on, let’s go to see Adriana, she may tell us something more. It seems she saw the man who attacked her sister. Did they mention where she was taken?”
She nodded, taking a last sip to her beer, and standing up to get her jacket. “The LA General Hospital,” she said, “Where Ernie is.”
Chance chuckled. “Seems everybody finishes up in the LA General Hospital of late.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
***December 17th, 2006- LA General Hospital- 9:00 pm***
Adriana sat next to her young sister. She was not taking Dominika’s situation lightly. Had her sister been a normal girl, she wouldn’t be in this situation. But, of course, Drea knew that her baby sister was very much a free spirit and literally loved men. Any who offered, she wouldn’t turn down. Adriana cursed her for this.
She had not left the hospital, not even to change. Drea remained in her clothes from last night, despite how uncomfortable they were to her. It didn’t matter, since her black jacket was wrapped around her. She had yet to take off her make-up and the pounds of glitter that was mounted on her skin. Adriana just sat there, hugging herself while staring at her sister’s sad state.
Her trains of thought were interrupted by a knock at the door. Drea looked up to see a nurse at the door. “Miss Lautari, someone’s here to talk with you.”
Adriana gave a puzzled look. *Why would someone come here this late?* Without waiting for the girl to answer, Chance poked his head through the door. Hesitantly he smiled at the girl. She looked pale and scared and he found himself wanting to help her, as he had in Bob’s.
“Hello Adriana. Remember me?”
Adriana smiled at him and nodded. “You’re Chance, from Bob’s. You, um... got into that fight with James,” she replied and tried not to twitch at his name. Drea didn’t want Chance to know about what happened with her and James. But she was glad to see him again. It had been nearly a month since she last saw him.
“What brings you to the hospital this late at night?” she asked him politely.
Chance gave a quick smile to the nurse, who shrugged and left. Then he entered the room, Alessa following him. He walked towards Adriana and looked to the second bed in the room. It was empty, good. He motioned Alessa to approach them.
“Adriana, this is my girlfriend, Alessa. We came because we saw you in the news and want to ask you something.” He then turned to the girl on the bed. “How’s your sister doing?”
Alessa smiled at the girl, and noticed she looked younger than in the TV. However she suspected she wasn’t so young, there was an air of innocence in her, and yet her eyes were older. She looked to the girl on the bed then. This one was definitely younger, and she looked appallingly pale, her skin almost the color of the bandages on her neck. She must have sustained a great loss of blood, she marveled at her surviving at all.
Adriana smiled at the woman next Chance and waved. She seemed nice, and Drea was happy that Chance had found himself a nice girl. Drea then turned to her younger sister. Her state was disturbing, especially since she was such a lively girl.
“She, um, lost a lot of blood. But the doctors say she’ll live. They say, that she had a neck rupture... it was no neck rupture. Everyone in this room knows what it was,” Adriana explained. She gave a heavy sigh.
“Well, that’s exactly what we wanted to talk to you about,” said Chance. He reached for a chair turned it and sat down, his arms resting on the chair’s back. “As I said we saw you in the TV news and guessed what had happened. So first of all, we want to offer our help.” He pushed his hair back with his hand, and looked at Dominika again. “Second...”
Alessa looked at Chance and saw that he was without words, and she could understand him. She didn’t know what to say either, how do you ask questions to somebody who’s almost lost a dear one? Alessa decided to be direct about it.
“We wanted to ask you about the vampire that attacked your sister... Dominika, right?” she said gently but getting straight to the point. She inspected the girl closely again, noticing her golden skin and dark eyes, then her gaze was caught by a glimmer in her chest. She had a golden medallion with a familiar symbol on it.
*A gypsy, she’s a gypsy!* Alessa was surprised, she hadn’t seen any gypsies since she had got to LA. "Kasko san?" she asked about her clan then, speaking in the Romany language she had learnt years ago when traveling with Morris.
She could see Adriana's surprise at her using her tongue, surprise and later delight. Adriana beamed a smile at her and she smiled back. She loved gypsies. Beside her, Chance watched the exchange openmouthed.
“The Kalderash of Romania. You know Romany well. But you don’t need to speak it to me. I know English better than Romany,” Drea explained, chuckling a bit. She then remembered Alessa’s previous question about the vampire.
“What do you want to want to know about him?” Adriana asked the two.
Alessa and Chance exchanged a look, then she turned again to Adriana. “From what the TV reporters mentioned we think that he may be a vampire that has been following me. We need to find him, must find him.” Alessa bit her lip, she was anxious. “What can you tell us about the attack? Did you see him well? How did he look like? What-?”
“Shh, calm down, pet,” said Chance, giving her a reassuring smile. “One question at a time.”
She smiled encouragingly to Adriana.
Adriana remembered back to last night. “Knowing Dominika and her men, they left the club together probably to get some privacy. I guess he made sure that no one would see them, so he brought her into an alley. After about a minute, I realized she was gone. So I left the club looking for her. I was standing out there only for a little bit, when I heard some sort of struggling from the nearby shadows.
“There, I saw a tall man, literally digging his teeth into her neck. I... didn’t know what else to do. So I screamed. It’s... it’s not every day that you see your little sister get drained by a vampire,” she told them.
Alessa nodded solemnly. “What else can you tell us about him? Could you see him well?”
Drea tried to picture Dominika’s attacker. She explained the vampire from just nearly twenty four hours ago, “He was tall, with blondish-grayish short hair. He was vamped out, so I don’t know what his eye color is...” Adriana trailed off.
Alessa’s face saddened at this news. Adriana began to feel bad when she remembered something. “The vampire could speak Romany. He called me a ‘foolish girl’. And... he had a scar on the left side of his face if I remember correctly...”
Alessa quickly exchanged a look with Chance. She had noticed that scar in the Hyperion, and later in the nightclub. And Morris spoke Romany, he had taught her it. She licked her lips. *He was Morris*, she thought, not knowing if to feel glad or sad to have finally gotten some news about him. She turned again to Adriana and opened her mouth but no sound came out. She closed it again, and was relieved to hear Chance speak instead.
“He sounds like the vampire we are looking for. Those things that happened in the club... the blackout and such, was that magic?”
Adriana slowly nodded her head. “He placed his hand on the ground and spoke some words of some language I didn’t know. Then, a vibrant blue light glowed through the cracks in the pavement. It then came rushing towards us and pinned everyone to the wall. That’s when the blackout occurred. It lasted not even a minute. So yeah, I guess you could count that as magic.”
“It’s him,” Alessa whispered
Chance only nodded. He was relieved; finally the vampire had stopped being a shadow to become a real thing. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t believed Alessa, but Morris had been covering his tracks too well, and they hadn’t got any hints about his whereabouts. Not even Tash had found out anything about him. He looked at the girl in the bed; too bad this had to happen to get a real clue.
He looked at Adriana again, the girl was looking at Alessa with a question written in her pretty face, but his lover was too absorbed in her thoughts to notice.
“What’s going on? Who’s this guy?” Adriana asked them. She knew that this vampire had been stalking Alessa, but she didn’t know why. “The more you tell me, the more I can help.”
Alessa was startled by the gypsy’s question, and she looked uncomfortable. She wondered how could Adriana help, but then remembered how powerful gypsies were. They had their own magic and wisdom. Besides, she deserved to know who had almost killed her sister.
“His name is Morris Giles...” Alessa was surprised when she noticed a little gasp from the girl. She looked up into her round eyes.
“Giles, as in, relation to Rupert Giles?” Drea asked urgently.
Alessa nodded her head. “Yes. He was his uncle. Did you know him?” she questioned her.
Adriana’s stress went down a little. “I met him once, at my aunt’s funeral. They were in love. But I haven’t seen him in, what, eight years? But it’s weird... Rupert is a watcher, and his uncle is a vampire? Crazy world we live in...” she trailed off.
“I’m sorry dear, but Rupert is dead,” Alessa said, and could see the surprise and sorrow in her face. “He died with his Slayer in Sunnydale, closing the Hellmouth.” She exchanged another look with Chance, remembering the fight they had had there not long ago. “And Morris was a Watcher himself before he was turned...” she explained.
Adriana nodded, saddened. After a moment of thinking, she continued.
“He might come back. Morris, that is, to Club Vosrazhenie. The Polyakovs own that club, and they like to surround themselves with mages. He wouldn’t be near there for awhile, but he might be back in the future.”
“Bet he will! But we will be waiting for him,” said Chance, his face hardened, and his eyes grew cold. “If half of what I’ve heard of the bugger is accurate, he won’t be stopped by what happened yesterday.” He looked at the girl and wagged his finger at her. “And you should take care too. I don’t think he’ll happy with you after you spoilt his sport.”
“Of course!” said Alessa and her hand went to her mouth. “Please take care of yourself. Do you need us for anything? We know some people who could help us protect you and your sister,” she added, thinking about Tash and the others.
“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks. But, er, I’ve got enough people to deal with. Russian mob, the clan... I don’t think those people are willing to deal with the combined two,” Adriana said.
Then an idea raced to her head. “If you need any help, I recommend my uncle Enzo. He knows a lot about vampires and such, a whole lot more than me. Maybe he’s heard of Morris, or could give more information about vampires in general. Just contact me if you ever want to get a hold of him,” she informed them.
Alessa nodded, her face serious. She had met some gypsies long ago, while traveling with Morris... more than forty years ago. *Enzo...* the name rang a bell, as did the Kalderash clan. She looked at Adriana more closely. “Enzo... I remember an Enzo. He was a very talented young violinist if I’m not wrong, and had a little sister that always followed him around... I’m talking about forty years ago here, of course,” she quickly added.
Adriana’s face lit up. “Did your Enzo have a little sister that was about four or five, and a brother that was about nine or ten?” she asked quickly. Drea knew she had an aunt that passed away when she was very young. Maybe, just maybe, Alessa knew her family...
“I think so... I don’t remember the boy, though, but I clearly remember the girl, and she was about that age... her name was...” She had it on the tip of her tongue. She smiled. “Viola, Violet... something like that.”
“Violaine...” Adriana trailed off.
Alessa beamed at her. “Violaine, that’s it! So your Enzo is my Enzo. How is h-?” but she was interrupted by Chance who had witnessed the exchange with growing impatience.
“Sorry to interrupt you, ladies, but we have a vampire to catch. Talk about lost and found relations in some other time, ok?” he said while he got up. “I was thinking we could go to this Russian club to start searching... he seems to like hunting in clubs, we might get lucky, or at least learn something more.”
Alessa got up too, rolling her eyes. She looked at Adriana and said, “Take care, and I’d love to see Enzo again, more so if he can help us with Morris.” Her eyes saddened a moment. “He knew Morris too, he was always telling him he should pursue an artistic career; your uncle was so good with his violin.” Noticing Chance’s impatience, she smiled at the girl again. “You have our number, don’t you?”
Adriana smiled. But she couldn’t help but think how a woman as young as she looked was able to know her uncle at such a young age. “No, but if you ever want to get a hold of me, just drop by Bob’s Bar. You can’t miss me; besides Bob, I’m the only human there,” she said and chuckled.
“Oh, and watch out for the Russian bouncers!” Drea shouted a few seconds later, once Chance and Alessa turned around to leave. “They’re Siberian trained hit men, so be careful. It was nice meeting you, Alessa, and really good seeing you again, Chance.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 15th, 2006
10:35 pm
Bob's Bar
It had been a few days since the battle with Proserpexa, and the first time Darian had left his apartment since then. Not only had he desperately needed to recuperate, but he also took the time to make sure Cole felt comfortable. The kid seemed to be all right since he awoke, but Darian couldn’t help but worry about him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that there was something bothering Cole, but he didn’t want to speak about it and Darian wouldn’t push the issue. He had to give him time. But finally, it was time to get out of the house – he needed to get out. If he spent another day staring at the white walls of his apartment, he thought he would go insane. So he had made sure his new roommate was ok, and then took off to go get a well deserved drink.
Adriana pulled back her hair and looked up to see who walked in. There, a normal looking young man walked in and towards the bar. She eyed him closely. He didn’t seem like a vampire, and certainly didn’t look like a demon. He was just... normal. Drea picked up her tray and walked back to the bar.
Darian eyed the interior of the establishment as he sat down at a lonely stool at the bar. *What a dive.* And yet, he stayed. With all that had happened, he needed to just relax and let loose. It was not long after that a young waitress came to stand face to face with him on the opposite side of the counter. The girl looked out of place, surrounded by the vermin of the LA underground. She was pretty, with an almost ingénue air about her.
The man turned to her, his bright purple eyes shining. *Nifty contacts.* He looked quite young, and too normal to be a patron of Bob’s. She smiled politely at the good looking man and asked him, “Hi, is there anything I can get you?”
It was kind of awkward, considering that he was right at the bar and didn’t need a waitress to attend to him, but still. She preferred him over any of the customers.
“I’ll just take a beer.”
As she turned to get his order, Darian studied her a little more. When she turned back, his eyes fell on a strange necklace that hung around her neck. It was a small gold circle in the shape of a caravan wheel. “Must come in handy in a place like this.” The woman’s gaze turned perplexed, not understanding what he had meant. “Heh, your necklace I mean. Isn’t it a Romani symbol for protection?” he explained.
Adriana froze. She shushed him and whispered, “Not so loud! Bob doesn’t know! Otherwise, he would sell me out in a minute.” After a minute of silence, Drea asked him, “How do you know about this necklace?”
She just stood there, despite Bob’s calls for her to get back working. “I’m taking a break now, Bob,” Drea said quickly, waiting for his response.
“I... I...” Darian stumbled over his words, wondering how he had angered the young woman. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” The fae leaned his head in closer, and lowered his voice, to prevent any unwanted eavesdroppers. “So what makes you think you’d be fired just 'cause you’re a gypsy? It's 2006, most people don’t have such narrow minded views any more.”
She shook her head a little. “No, it’s not that. You know how Bob is, right?”
Darian shook his head his head, “First time customer.”
Adriana continued, “Well see, some people, or things, have it out for the Romani. If Bob knew he had a gypsy working for him, he’d sell me out in a heartbeat.”
“Doesn’t sound like a very nice boss.”
Drea was about to respond, when their conversation was cut short by one of Bob’s more shadier patrons. A husky vampire had come and ‘plopped’ himself down on the stool next to Darian, and was disgustingly ogling Adrianna with his hungry eyes. “Hey sweet-heart, what’s your name”?
Drea narrowed her eyes at him. She hated when random people came up to her and used terms like “sweetheart” and such. Adriana quickly replied, “You don’t need to know. I’m not talking with you.” She then turned back to her conversation with Darian.
“I don’t think you understand,” the blood-sucker said, as he stood from his seat. “I asked you what your name was sweet-heart, so you better turn away from you’re little boy-band boyfriend here, and answer my damn question!”
“If I were you vampire, I’d just sit down and shut up,” Darian interrupted, swiveling on his stool to face the demon.
“Ohhh, honey, you better close your eyes, 'cause I’m about to teach your boyfriend a lesson.” The vampire’s fist shot out for the fae’s nose, but Darian was far too quick. Lightning fast, his hand shot up and easily caught the attacking blow.
“Now, I told you to sit down, but now I think it's better if you would just leave,” Darian warned, squeezing the vampire’s hand so hard that its knuckles began to bleed. “Now take a hike, before I dust your sorry ass,” he finished, before grabbing the leech’s arm, and hurtling him across the room. The vampire landed with a painful thud. The fae had not only hurt his hand, but the monster’s pride as well.
“You made a big mistake buddy, a big mistake!” it growled, before turning tail and running out the front door.
Adriana tapped Darian on the shoulder and smiled. “Thanks,” she said.
“He was asking for it.”
Drea sighed. “What are you?” Darian’s smile faded. “That wasn’t human, what you did. Are you a demon or something?”
“No, not demon. I used to be just a normal guy, well 200 years ago anyways.” Adrianna’s face darkened, but it did not take long for Darian to catch on why. “I’m not a vampire either,” he continued reassuringly. “I’m a faery, like a real faery, I didn’t mean that to sound gay, 'cause I’m not…not that there is anything wrong with that, I’m just saying… I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
Adriana laughed. “I get what you’re saying. But they exist; faeries?” she asked, curiously. Enzo used to make up stories about faeries for her and Sergei when they were younger, but Drea never really believed them.
“You work here, and you’re surprised?” he responded with a smile.
The two continued to chat playfully for a little while longer, until Darian finally caught hold of the time, and realized it was getting late, and he didn’t want to worry Cole. “Oh man, I better get going, my roommate must be wondering where I’ve been all night.”
“Well it's been really great chatting with you. You know, I don’t think I caught your name,” Adrianna replied with a coy smile. “Mine’s Adrianna, by the way.”
“I’m Darian.”
“Well Darian, I hope you come back again. It’s nice to get some non-blood drinking customers.”
The fae chuckled. “Well if it weren’t for the nice waitress, I doubt Bob would have any clients at all,” Darian called out before bidding her a good night.
Drea blushed. She always felt uncomfortable when people complimented her. Adriana flashed him a smile as he left. He was nice. *It’s a shame more of Bob’s customers aren’t like him.* Suddenly, Drea froze in her tracks. An eruption of commotion blasted from the ally. From experience, she knew that it was just another fight. Adriana prayed that Darian had escaped it.
Her prayers had fallen on deaf ears.
Out on the street, the vamp that had been hitting on Adrianna had been waiting, along with an amassed group of his comrades.
“I told you you’d regret it,” he taunted as one of his friends kicked Darian in the back, sending him into a punch from another vamp.
“Now I’m warning you, leave before I get angry,” the fae spat back, as another vampire kicked him in the gut.
“I don’t know what crack you’re smokin’ pretty boy, but you are in no position to threaten us,” the lead bloodsucker taunted as he uppercut Darian, sending him crashing on his back.
Adriana moved to the door, while Bob called from behind, “Um, Adriana? You’re working, remember? Jeez Louise!” But Drea ignored him. Something big was happening outside.
A nearby demon, who was a regular, shook his head and murmured, “Jesus Christ, you bring a pretty girl into a joint and suddenly its ‘Melrose Place’.”
Outside the group of four vampires continued to pound on Darian.
“That’s it!” the fae said, fed up. He ducked under the most recent punch and grabbed the vamp’s arm. In one swift move he jumped sideways, bringing his victim with him. Landing several metres away, he had cleared enough room between him, the vamp still in his grasp, and the other group.
“I warned you,” Darian said before he put the vamp in a headlock, and ripped it square off his shoulders. A second later, he used his faery magic to disappear into the shadows.
“Where the hell did he go?” one of the vamps screamed as he arrived just in time to see his friend blow away in the wind.
“Maybe we should get out of…”
POP
Darian had reappeared in back of another vamp, and with a quick twist of his powerful arms, snapped off its head as well.
A minute later, Adriana swung open the door and into the alley. There Darian stood, alone, breathing heavily. She could have sworn she'd heard more people.
“Hey there,” he said, catching his breath.
Drea gave a little wave and replied, “Hiya. Are you by yourself or are there..?”
Darian sighed and responded, “Well, there were.”
Adriana nodded her head slowly. *Vampires, Drea. Remember? You like one...* Drea pushed those thoughts out of her head. Darian had just defended himself against a horde of vampires, that would have never occurred if he hadn’t defended her.
“It seemed the vamp and his friends were looking for a fight,” he said as he limped towards her. Before dusting the last one, it had managed to kick him straight in the ankle - *Hurts like a bitch.*
“Are you okay?” Adriana asked him, worried. He looked up and smiled. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Darian reassured her.
Drea looked at his ankle closer. “No, you won’t. Are you sure that you don’t want me to call an ambulance?”
“I heal fast. You should have seen me a few days ago, I was charred like a burnt piece of toast, wasn’t pretty,” he added trying to calm down the woman. “I just need to sit down for a few minutes for it to heal.”
“I won’t even ask,” she commented. After a few minutes of silence, Adriana asked, “Where do you live?” Darian looked at her curiously. Drea quickly continued, “In case you don’t heal fast enough, and you need someone to help walk you home.” She smiled at him.
A large smile crossed his face, “It’s not far from here.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 17th, 2006
10:20 AM, Darian's Apartment
Darian yawned and stretched out relaxingly in his bed. The warmth of the bright LA sun was floating through the window, gently warming the one leg that had escaped from under the covers – was there anything as nice as sleeping in?
Yawning again, Darian threw off the warm blankets, crawled out of bed, and managed to slip into a comfortable pair of plaid pyjama pants. *10:20 already,* he thought, looking at the alarm clock. *I really need to find a reason to get up earlier.*
As he made his way slowly to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of milk, he noticed Cole was already up, staring blankly outside the window.
“What’s up kiddo, something wrong?”
The teen spun around, somewhat startled. “Oh man, I didn’t hear you get up, you scared me. Uhh no, nothing wrong. How are you doing; a big demon fight, and a vamp brawl all in like one week seems like a lot.”
Darian just laughed, “Just an ordinary week for me.”
The conversation fell silent again as Darian occupied himself with making breakfast, while Cole went back to staring out the window.
*Should I bring it up?* Cole thought to himself as he quickly glanced backwards, *But what if it bothers him?* There was so much the teen wanted to ask Darian, about his life, his powers, everything – but on top of that, there was one thing that had been plaguing his mind the whole time.
“Darian...”
The fae looked up, and mumbled an acknowledgment, the large spoon full of cereal in his mouth preventing a real response.
“What umm... what happened to your brother?” There, he'd said it.
The spoon practically fell from Darian’s mouth, the unexpectedness of the teen’s question catching him off guard. “What do you mean, my brother?”
“I’m sorry, forget it,” Cole quickly said, seeing the explicit pain in Darian’s eyes. After everything Darian had done for him; saving him, letting him stay here, taking him out and buying him a complete new wardrobe - after all that, he shouldn’t have brought it up.
“No Cole, don’t be shy, what do you mean?” Darian was somewhat curious. He had never told the kid the story about Sebastian, yet, but what else could Cole be referring to?
Cole looked hesitant, but Darian’s reassuring look gave him the confidence to ask. “It's just that, here, in the apartment, it's filled with…how can I explain this?” he said sighing. “Ok, before I quit doing magic, I had been learning how to improve my psychic abilities, you know, kinda do what Tash does. It worked for a short time, but then I realized that picking up on other’s thoughts and emotions was definitely more fun than it sounds; I guess that why Tash wears gloves all the time.”
“Ok, but I’m still not following,” Darian said, taking another spoonful of cereal.
“Even though I stopped doing that, strong emotions still come through sometimes; and well, ever since I got here, I can feel it. The sadness, guilt, regret. It’s for your brother right?”
“It still comes through that strong?” Darian asked, embarrassed. He had put on a brave face since Tash had convinced him to stay in LA, but beneath it all, he still grieved – and the boy was the first person to see that. “He was killed last month, by a vampire.”
Cole averted his eyes to the ground. *Good going, genius,* he thought to himself, regretting he had ever brought it up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“It's ok, Cole, I don’t mind. If you can’t talk about the bad things that happen, how else can you ever get over them?”
“Did he have powers like you also?” Cole asked timidly.
“No, Seb was a regular human like you, like I was.”
“Was?”
The two spent the better half of the morning continuing the conversation, recounting the stories of how they had arrived at where they were today. Cole had listened with rapt attention to Darian’s tale of how he had been transformed into a faery over two centuries ago, and how he had since tried to find a way to free his friend from the amethyst prison. The teen squirmed nervously when Darian got to the part where he had watched Dathan kill his best friend. Cole knew all too well what it was like; being in the clutches of that fiend. Luckily for Cole however, Darian had managed to save him in time, something he had failed to do with Sebastian.
“When my mom died, I also spent a long time looking for a way to bring her back,” Cole said, at the end of telling his own story. “I thought if I learned enough magic I could somehow revive her. But eventually you have to just accept what’s happened, you know? All the magic in the world can’t return her to me, not the way she was. And since then, I’ve pretty much been alone.”
“And your dad?”
Cole quickly spewed out the same lie he had told everyone since he ran away from him. “He died when I was really young, I didn’t know him.” It was best for people to think he had no father, that way no one tried to send him back to the hell of living with the abusive man.
“And what about Chance and Alessa?” Darian asked, finally bringing up a topic he had been avoiding. “You know, you may not think so, but they really care about you; I should know, I’m the one who has to keep coming up with excuses of why you can’t answer all their phone calls.”
The teen didn’t know how to reply. He knew they cared, but he couldn’t bring himself to face them, not after how he had acted to Chance. “What would I say to them Darian? After what I did…?”
“There are a lot of things I regret in my life, but you know the one thing I don’t regret? Before he was murdered, Seb knew how much he meant to me. How I appreciated everything he had done for me when we were kids, how he looked after me, how he was more than a friend, he was my brother. After he died, I didn’t have to worry about whether or not he knew how I felt. Do you see my point kiddo? You never know when the people you care about are going to be taken away forever, so you should let those you care about know, otherwise, you may live to regret it.”
There was a long pause as Cole considered Darian’s words.
“Go see them Cole, you’ll be happy you did.”
“You’re right. Even if they are mad, I have to tell them how I feel,” Cole finally concluded.
“If you don’t want to go alone, I can come with you tonight.”
Cole looked up at his friend thankfully, but shook his head. “No, I think it's better if I go alone. Plus, you wouldn’t want to waste your night babysitting me. Go back out, go see that girl at Bob’s Bar,” he added with a insinuating smile.
It wasn’t a half bad idea. Maybe he would return to see Adrianna. “You know Cole, I think I will go out tonight. You have a key right, in case I’m not back when you get home?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about me, I'll be fine,” Cole said smiling. He could tell by the way Darian had talked about the gypsy girl that he definitely had a crush.
As the conversation came to and end, Darian got up, placed his empty bowl in the sink and headed towards the bathroom. They had talked so long, it was practically the afternoon, and he still wasn’t showered.
“Darian?”
“Yeah, Cole?” Darian said before stepping into the bathroom.
“Thanks.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 17th
9:15 PM
Alessa and Chance's Street
*Will they forgive me?*
*Are they going to even talk to me?*
*I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t want...*
Doubt, worry, and insecurity floated through Cole’s head as he took the first step onto their street. He could see his destination now, Alessa and Chance’s house; it was just at the end of the road.
He stopped.
*Why?*
Darian had assured him that Chance and Alessa had been by to see him many times, and they would be happy to see him up and about. Yet even with that knowledge, he was not assured. How could they forgive him for how he'd acted? After all their kindness, he had pretty much spat in their faces.
*Don’t you see, that’s why you have to go. Even if you don’t deserve their kindness any more, you have to apologize.*
His feet began to move again, slowly dragging his anxious form forward.
*Maybe they will just forgive and forget.*
*Maybe everything will go back to normal.*
*Maybe-*
He stopped. But this time, it was not his doing.
“My, my, young man, didn’t anyone ever tell you it's not safe to be out and about at this hour?”
*Why can't I move? Who's speaking to me? Is this a side affect of the overdose?*
Cole tried to look around, but horrifyingly enough he couldn’t even move his neck muscles; something unnatural was holding him in place.
“I bet you were on your way to Alessandra’s house, weren’t you? That really would be the only reason a poor brat like you would be in such a nice neighborhood like this.”
Cole’s heart began to race faster and faster. He tried again, unresponsively to force his legs forwards, but they would not listen. *Why won’t they move?* And then he understood. He felt the prickling feel of power flowing over his skin; he knew the sensation far too well – magic.
“Don’t bother boy, my power if far beyond your own, you will rest immobile as long as I wish it.” The form of a tall man circled Cole’s petrified body; the towering form of Morris Giles ominously stopped in front of the helpless teen.
Cole recognized him. He had been at the hotel in the last moments of the battle. He was a mage, but he was more than that. The stench of evil rolled off the man in waves. His mere presence chilled the kid to the bones, yet he could not even shake in fear.
“Now I wonder, how did someone so young delve so deep in the mystic arts already? It doesn’t matter really, all that does is that you possess the gift.”
“I… I don’t do magic,” Cole stuttered, unsure of what exactly was going on.
“Oh come now boy, what do you mean you don’t do magic? I saw you at the Hyperion; quite a display of power for someone so young.”
“That was before, things are different now. So please, just leave me alone,” Cole’s voice was trembling. After all that had happened recently, he wasn’t mentally prepared for this, whatever ‘this’ was.
“Well, we’ll just have to work on changing your mind,” the man replied, an almost gentle look on his face.
*If only Alessa or Chance would look out the window.* His eyes moved towards their house; only metres away, yet now so immeasurably distant.
The man followed the young boy’s eyes. “A shame, isn’t it? So close and yet so far. Not that it would matter if they did see,” he added as an afterthought, “I could kill them both without so much as breaking a sweat.”
A look of horror crossed Cole’s face. He could remember his nightmare; the demon drawing the last bits of life from both of his friends’ bodies. “No, please don’t hurt them,” he begged, unable to bear the thought of his dream actually coming to pass. His eyes moved back to the house. Could he hurt them? Chance and Alessa were strong, but who knew, this man definitely did not seem like a weakling.
“You shouldn’t worry about such things boy. Someone of your age need not stress about our adult affairs. All you have to think about now is getting prepared.”
“Prepared for what? I don’t understand what you want with me.”
“Well prepare yourself for becoming an immortal.” With a slight wave of Morris’ hand, Cole’s eyes fluttered closed and his limp body fell to the ground. As the vampire moved closer to Cole, a dark van with tinted windows drove inconspicuously up to the two. After removing the teen’s ring and ripping off a shred of his navy blue hoody, Morris lifted the body and made his way to the back of the van.
“No one touches him till I return, you understand?” Giles commanded, as the back door opened, revealing one of his cronies who was waiting to take Cole.
“Of course Mr. Giles, whatever you say.”
“Now bring him back, and wait for me to return.”
As the van disappeared from the street, Morris walked casually up to Alessa’s door. First he placed Cole’s ring and the torn cloth on the doorstep, and then retrieved a small note from his pocket.
I never would have thought you would have moved into a neighborhood where it was not safe for kids to walk alone at night.
-M.G.
*It won’t be long now,* he thought to himself happily, as he too vanished from the street.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
December 17th
10:45 pm
With Alessa’s arm linked through his, Chance strolled along the corridor towards her apartment.
“I still reckon we should have had one dance,” his love said, continuing an argument.
Chance sighed. “We were looking for clues, love, not partying.”
“Spoilsport,” she shot back.
He gave her a wicked grin and a wink. “I said we were looking for clues. Doesn’t mean we can’t party now... Hey, what’s this?” Chance asked, reaching down to a piece of paper and a torn piece of rag on her doormat. Quickly he scanned the note as Alessa picked up the rag. “Shit. M.G.? Morris Giles I’m guessing.” He gave her a look. “This can’t be good.”
“No,” Alessa said, staring intently at the rag. She sniffed it.
Chance caught himself before he raised an eyebrow. *Demon-sniffing powers, remember? Should be able to tell us who this belonged to.*
“Oh, God…” she breathed a minute later.
“What? What is it?” Chance asked, taking a step towards her with a frown upon his face. “Whose is it?”
Alessa fixed him with a frightened glare. “Cole’s… It was Cole’s. And so is this…” Bending down, she retrieved his ring, then turned to look back at Chance. “He has Cole.”
Chance thumped the door hard. “Damnit! I should have known… should have looked for him harder…”
Looking at the piece of cloth in her hand, Alessa whispered, “I should have known.” She raised her terrified eyes to Chance, “I should have told you... I was about to tell you...” She realized she was babbling, and stopped herself. “James...”
That word hit him like a sledgehammer. She needn’t say any more.
James.
The bloody-sucking vampire. Again. Fantastic.
Chance took a deep breath and closed his eyes before saying anything. In a calm voice, he finally went on. “What did he have to say?”
“He came by a couple of days ago... He knows about Morris, Chance! He told me he was turning mages. Maldición! I didn’t realize, didn’t make the connection...” Her eyes filled with tears of frustration and guilt.
Chance touched his head with his hands as if suffering from a severe headache. “Oh, Titans of ancient Earth… An army of vampire mages?” He shook his head. “They’re vampires, Alessa. Didn’t you stop for a moment and think they might be working together?”
She turned to look at him. “No, they aren’t. I’m sure of it.” She looked into his eyes again, “I know you won’t like this, Chance, but he’s the only one who’s learnt something about Morris. We should talk to him.”
“Talk to him? I don’t think so. I ever see him, and I’m going to give him a very personal introduction to Mr. Pointy. Why don’t we go get Tash and Darian instead? Didn’t you have a conversation with her about this sort of thing?” he added.
“Chance! This isn’t the time to put your personal feelings in front of reason. Neither Tash nor Darian could learn anything about Morris, but James did.” She stamped on the floor, her anger rising. “Think of Cole, Chance! Would you risk him for your... thing with this vampire?”
Chance squinted. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. But Cole… “Fine,” he finally agreed, just when Alessa thought he wasn’t going to say anything and started to open her mouth to talk herself. “We’ll go talk to him. But you’ve got to remember, he’s a bloody vampire. A demon in human form. You can’t trust him. You can’t take every word he says without a grain of salt. Given even half the chance, he’d gladly tear us apart. Personally, I think he’s going to be more of a hindrance than a help. We’ll have to look over our backs to check his bloody fingers aren’t poised at our throats every five minutes. How do we even know he won’t just betray us to Morris?”
“I don’t know, really. But I think he doesn’t like other vampires. And Cole helped his friends to look for him, he may feel somewhat obliged-”
“Sure, and I’m King Solomon. Vampires don’t have that kind of honor, Alessa. I helped look for him and he tried to kill me the last time I saw him. He won’t feel anything,” he spat.
“Well, it doesn’t help that you run with your “Mr. Pointy” raised every time you see him, either!” she retorted, but breathed deeply to calm herself. “Look, amor, I’m not saying he’s a guardian angel, but he’s our only option at this moment. We can’t lose time, or we will rescue a turned Cole.”
“And that’s unacceptable, I know,” Chance finished, then sighed. “It’s just… I don’t like the idea of working with James. Sure I know of demons in that grey area between black and white, but there’s no vampires there. They all have some hidden agenda…” He trailed off, looking away, then turned back to her. “Ok. Any idea of how to get hold of him?”
Alessa didn’t linger in the demon’s grey area stuff, and instead concentrated on his question. “We could call Vincent. He gave us his number when we were looking for James. I think I still have it somewhere...” she trailed off as she opened the apartment door and run towards the phone.
Maybe Baby
Thursday, 14th December 2006
Outside 67 Birch Street
6:45pm
The squad car quietly rolled to a stop outside the large white Victorian style house. The driver, a young rookie cop in her early twenties, turned off the engine and turned to face her passenger, Detective Galen Eldridge. She smiled at him though her expression could hardly be seen in the darkness so she switched on the interior light as they continued to sit in silence.
Galen barely noticed they had arrived. It had been a long day at the station; a young boy about twelve years old had been found in Garvey Reservoir. The call had come in early morning; an elderly lady walking her dog had come across the body and called the police. As a result Galen and Anderson had spent all day at the crime scene interviewing passersby, talking to coroners, keeping the media at bay. The entire ordeal had left him feeling quite disturbed and the worst was still to come since they had yet to wait for the official findings of the autopsy.
The turning off of the engine roused his attention and he looked up at his home with a disconsolate smile. It was a considerable comfort to him, to know that he had a wife and child to come home to, in fact that thought comforted him so much through the various horrors of his job that he wondered at how he ever survived so long without it. And then he smiled to himself - the smoking and the drinking; both had been a mandatory requirement of his years as a Majestic agent, both of which had all but dwindled from his present life.
Galen turned to face Elaine, her fizzy blond hair floated around her small face like a cloud of candyfloss. “I really appreciate you giving me a ride home,” he said congenially. His own car was still in the shop after a slight mishap involving a suspected arsonist and a fire hydrant, it meant he had to beg a ride from whoever was around at the time until a replacement car could be sorted out.
“That’s okay,” said Elaine as she looked at him from under a fountain of curls, his handsome profile caught against the darkness of the outside and the interior light of the car. She smiled coyly and reached out towards him, her hand resting on his knee, “We’re friends aren’t we?” Slowly her hand began travelling upwards until it curled around his inner thigh; “Sometimes I think we could be more than friends…”
Galen eyed the woman warily, she was moderately attractive but that wasn’t the point. They were work colleagues, friends, never at any time had he thought that she was interested in him, but then… he was often guilty of overlooking such obvious signals and Elaine did have something of a reputation. “Elaine… no,” he said awkwardly, pushing her hand firmly away.
“Is that the kind of no when you really mean yes?” she smiled playfully, replacing her hand on his thigh and worked it up to his groin.
Galen nearly banged his head on the roof in shock at her bold move. He backed away from her, his back pressing into the door as he pushed her hands away. “Look… Elaine, I’m sincerely flattered but… I’m just not interested okay? Not now, not ever.”
Elaine looked annoyed, it wasn’t often that she got knocked back, especially when the guy in question was older than she was. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, a certain amount of irritation evident in her voice, “I’m laying myself out on a plate here! Any normal guy would jump at the chance!”
As Galen rolled his eyes and exited the car she followed, leaning over the roof. “I know what your problem is… you don’t like assertive women. Well that’s okay,” she smiled playfully, taking a pair of handcuffs from her belt, “I can play submissive if that’s what you want.”
“No that’s not what I want, jeez El!” Galen quickly looked up at his home; Kate would be upstairs most likely, reading a story to Emma or tucking her into bed. Although he knew he had in no way encouraged Elaine’s advances he still couldn’t help feeling a twinge of guilt. “Elaine, I’m a happily married man, with a kid! It might come as some surprise to you but I actually love my wife!”
Elaine rolled her eyes in boredom and leaned against the roof of the car, “Ugh, how dull.”
Galen chuckled to himself, if there was one thing his life with Kate wasn’t it was dull. “The point is, even if I was interested, which I’m not! I still wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise my marriage.” He shook his head in dismay, “So just… find some other guy to tie you up in knots on a Saturday night, it ain’t gonna be me.”
Elaine giggled as she slipped back into the car and started the engine. “You sure you don’t want to be that guy? You don’t know what you’re missing…”
Galen shook his head in dismay, she really was incorrigible. “I’m sure Elaine, we can just forget this tomorrow right? Avoid an awkward situation?”
Elaine grinned, “You know me Galen, never one to dwell on a situation. But if you should ever change your mind…” She smiled again, before she pulled away and drove off down the street.
Inside the house Galen ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time in search of his wife. He stuck his head into the bedroom first and seeing nothing he was about to go on to the nursery when he heard the splash of water. He smiled to himself, realising that he’d come home in time for Emma’s bath time.
As he pushed open the bathroom door he leaned against the doorframe watching the scene. Kate knelt by the bathtub, her sleeves rolled up to her forearms and her long hair messily pinned to the back of her head. She held Emma securely in her arms as she happily splashed away in the shallow waters. Galen felt a deep warmth rising from the pit of his stomach as he watched them both, a contented sigh escaping his lips.
Kate turned her head to see Galen standing in the doorway. She smiled and held Emma up, trailing her feet in the water. “Look Emma, it’s daddy.” Kate smiled brighter as Galen walked fully into the room and leaned down to give her a light kiss. “How was your day?”
“Oh I don’t wanna talk about work,” he sighed kneeling down beside her and splashing some of the water over Emma’s feet and stomach, causing her to gurgle and laugh, kicking her legs out in delight. “What have you two been up to today?”
Kate smiled and leaned further over the bath in order to get better access while she gently washed Emma’s hair. “Well we… went for a walk in the park, fed the ducks…” She looked up at Galen again, “Oh! You won’t believe this, we went for ice cream and I’m certain Emma said her first word.”
“What?” Galen leaned further into the bathtub and helped Kate rinse the soapy lather from Emma’s short red locks. She gurgled again, slapping her fist and a plastic fish against the side of the tub which caused a big splash almost soaking Kate through. Galen laughed and took over the job of washing Emma’s hair while Kate dried herself off. He held her tubby belly and jiggled her in the water making her laugh and giggle loudly.
“Does my little girl speak?” he asked, holding her up as Kate returned to finish rinsing her down.
“Well it wasn’t so much a full word, but almost.” She took Emma from Galen and held her up. “Can you say it again for Daddy? Come on baby… …sal… …ssssaaaallll… …S-A-L…” she frowned, sitting her back down in the water. “Well she said it before.”
Galen laughed, “said what? ‘Sal’ isn’t a word, it’s, it’s a noise, she was probably sneezing or something.”
Kate pulled out the plug, letting the water drain away and lifted Emma out of the bath, wrapping her snugly in a big fluffy towel. “It was not a sneeze. And ‘Sal’ is a word actually; I looked it up. It’s an Indian tree yielding teak-like timber and dammar resin.” She carried her down the corridor into the nursery, Galen following and sat down on the floor, holding Emma up while drying her chubby limbs. “See? Our daughter’s a genius already.”
Galen chuckled, kneeling down on the floor. “You know I think that, but unless she’s taken an interest in Middle Eastern Forestry then I doubt it was deliberate.”
Kate turned to face Galen, a warm smile on her face as she continued to dry Emma’s hair. It hadn’t grown much but she had the most adorable red curls forming around her face. Galen leaned in and kissed Kate again, a little firmer and with greater intent.
Kate returned to the task at hand and dusted Emma down in a cloud of talc before whipping out a nappy and pinning it into place. “By the way, Tash called earlier, it’s the first official meeting of the White Hats next week, the 21st I think, will you be able to make it?”
Galen picked up Emma’s baby-grow, it was so adorable, pink with little baby blue ducks making up the pattern. He handed it to Kate and sat down in the low armchair and leaned forward. “I don’t see why not… It’s somebody’s birthday too pretty soon if I remember correctly… the big two-six. I remember my 26th birthday party…”
Kate laughed, snapping the press-studs together and lifting Emma back into her arms. She smelled wonderful, all clean and fresh with that new baby smell. “Are you sure you can remember that far back?” she teased.
She handed the baby over to Galen as she cleared away the damp towel and other things. Galen bounced Emma happily on his knee, kissing the top of her head lovingly. Sometimes he couldn’t believe he was a father, it just hit him at times but it was the most wonderful feeling.
“Actually…” said Kate, returning from the bathroom, “it’s also the Winter Solstice, and I’ve been invited by a local wiccan group to attend a private festival…”
Galen chuckled to himself, rising to his feet while jiggling Emma in his arms. “Hmm, a hundred naked women dancing round an open fire… sounds like my idea of a good time.”
“Oh come on Galen, learn to shed a few stereotypes,” Kate sank down into the vacant armchair tiredly. “It’s not only women who’ll be naked and besides, the nudity is entirely optional.” As Galen walked over to her she bit her lip in a playful expression of coyness, “You can come too if you want to check up on me… make sure I don’t run off and have an affair with the first handsome warlock I happen upon.”
Galen grinned, sitting himself on the arm of the chair. Kate took Emma from him; she was so warm and floppy with sleep. She gently cradled her against her chin, holding the weight of her body against her breast. One arm held her securely under her bottom while her free hand soothingly rubbed her back. Galen watched his wife as she carefully nursed her to sleep; Emma was always drowsy after a bath and it was a tried and tested method of getting her off to sleep that never failed.
After another ten minutes Kate felt Emma’s slow, rhythmic breathing against her neck, and carefully carried her over to the crib, laying her down. She placed her hand on Emma’s terrycloth covered belly and rubbed it lovingly, smiling. “Blessed Be, my little one.”
Galen leaned over to look in the crib and gently stroked Emma’s hair back as she slept peacefully. He sighed, turning back to look at Kate. Feeling more in love with her than ever right now, his arms circled her waist and pulled her in close. This time his kiss was hot with passion and left Kate breathless when he finally released her.
Kate had to wait a few moments to catch her breath but laughed as he pulled away, “Okay, okay,” she said breathlessly, “I promise to be a good witch at the festival… no warlock chasing for me.”
Galen smiled half-heartedly, brushing her hair back behind her ear. Kate could sense his sadness so acutely it almost made her want to cry. She looked up at him, her face puzzled and a confused frown creasing her forehead. “Is something wrong Galen?” she asked searchingly.
“No, nothing’s wrong. I just-” he sighed, holding her a little closer. He didn’t want to talk about what had happened today but seeing his own daughter, knowing how lucky he was and how somewhere some poor unsuspecting parent had lost their son… “I had a rotten day at work, some lady found a kid in Garvey Reservoir and we got called out. It was… it was just horrible.”
Kate sighed, “I knew there was something,” she said softly, rubbing his strong shoulders comfortingly. “That must have been terrible.”
Galen nodded just holding Kate comfortably in his arms. He looked down into the crib, watching Emma as she slept. “You know it got me thinking about life and how short it is and…”
Kate looked curious, “What is it?”
“I think...” Galen looked into Kate’s eyes, his own insistent and serious. “I think, I’d like us to try for another baby,” he tightened his hold around her waist and pulled her closer, “Just think about it, a little brother or sister for Emma, it’d be wonderful… our family, just like we planned…”
Kate shook her head slightly; feeling somewhat bewildered by his proposal. They had always talked about having another baby but she had always assumed that it was further down the line. Much further. She searched Galen’s face for a moment, she could tell that he was entirely serious but if it was only brought on by what had happened to him today... She exhaled sharply; not quite a sigh but more controlled than a gasp, “Galen I…” she began not really knowing what to say, “Well, I’m… I’m stunned actually.”
“I know,” said Galen earnestly, “but imagine it, we are SO happy right now, and Emma is the best thing in our lives, another child would only make us even happier, right?”
“But Emma is barely eight months old herself and I’m still finding my feet with her.” Kate could see the disappointment in Galen’s face and she felt sorry and mean for turning him down. “I, I just don’t think I’m ready for another baby.”
Galen fell silent for a moment. He knew Kate’s logic was sound but something inside him just felt that this was a good idea. “But it would be so great and we agreed that we wanted more children, lots more…”
“Saying and doing are different things Galen!” Kate interrupted harshly; she broke free from his arms and sank down into the armchair. “I’m… I’m exhausted as it is, and Emma would just be starting to walk and, and I just don’t think I could handle being pregnant and running around after her at the same time. No I know… I know I couldn’t handle it.” She looked up at him, her eyes apologetic. “I’m not saying never…” Galen slowly knelt down beside her and she took his hands in hers. “I want to have more children with you, lots of children and maybe in… six months time or, or a year… we could talk about this again?”
Galen smiled in acceptance and nodded. He didn’t feel fair in just dropping the subject on her like he did, still he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed; a year was such a long way off. “It’s a shame,” he said finally, “we could have had a lot of fun trying.”
Kate smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, “That doesn’t mean we can’t practice trying in the meantime, that way when we decide the time’s right we’ll be perfect at it.”
Galen laughed a little, “I never could fault your logic.”
Kate stood and led him out of the nursery, turning on the small night-light and picking up the baby monitor as they closed the door. In the corridor she wrapped her arms around his neck again and pulled him close, kissing him softly. “You know Jack’s away on conference again with the Alliance until the weekend…” She kissed him again, feeling Galen’s hands rub down her waist to her hips, “We have the whole house to ourselves… we could get a head start on our practising…”
Galen grinned, suddenly scooping her up into his arms and carrying her towards their bedroom, “Well, like you said, practise makes perfect.”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Monday, 15 January 2007, 10.30pm (Hong Kong Time)
Hong Kong's St Michael's Cemetery
A thick mist slithered over the myraid of graves and shrines, obscuring most of them from view. The silence was heavy and the air quiet. The harsh white light from nearby streetlamps cast a ghostly glow on the lone figure of a woman sitting by a simple marble tombstone.
Reintroducing actress Bai Ling as Rose
Jade wasn't bothered by the eerie atmosphere that surrounded her. In fact, she much preferred it since it provided her with the solitude she craved. Her almond-shaped eyes were focused on the image of her mother before her. She spoke softly, alternating between Mandarin and Cantonese, the fog almost swallowing the words as they left her lips.
Her first visit to Rose's grave had taken place two months before, shortly after her arrival in Hong Kong. Jade recalled the nerves that had stopped her from going to her mother's burial site before, despite the moral, traditional and cultural obligations. She had repeatedly rejected her father's requests to accompany him on his visits, to the point that Valerian had issued a furious ultimatum.
So... She had gone. Alone. And had spent the better part of an hour there just sitting there staring blankly at the picture of the woman who had given birth to her. Her first words were hesistant and awkward as she fumbled over what to say to a woman she'd never known. But one sentence became two, two became four... and before she knew it, Jade found herself speaking as if they'd been confidantes all their lives. For some reason, that and the melodic words of her mother tongue soothed the ache in her heart, one that had been lurking there since...
"Remember Tristan, Mama? I've told you so much about him. Thought it was about time I showed you what he looked like." Jade looked down at the photo she'd withdrawn from her jacket pocket and gave it a watery smile. It was one of the few shots Sorrow and her had taken during their time together and her favorite, since it was of him the way she loved to remember him. His dark hair was touseled, his emerald green eyes crinkled with some hidden amusement...
Jade's finger gently traced the contours of the face she'd loved before she sighed and took out a silver Cartier lighter from her bag. Lighting a corner of the photograph, she dropped it into the marble basin next to Rose's tombstone, staring at the laminated paper curl and smolder till it was nothing but a pile of ashes. *Can you see him Mama? He was so handsome, wasn't he?* Closing her eyes then, Jade allowed the tears to fall.
A chill had crept into the air and a chilly wind had begun to blow when she finally stood up to leave. Jade glanced down toward the marble basin, watching as the breeze swept the remains of Sorrow's photograph into the misty darkness.
*Goodbye...*
[/]in which a sandwich is made. yes. a sandwich.
“Shalala, shalala,” Janey hummed. She might not be a modern vamp by Maggie’s leather-wearing standards, but she knew everything there was to know about 50’s pop hooks. “Shalala, tralala, dadada.”
She did an awkward pirouette around the kitchen, fixing Max a ‘sandwich’.
“Saaannddwwitch,” she pronounced, rolling the word around her mouth. An interesting concoction that consisted of thin slices of bread with a filling of one’s own choosing squashed between. “Shalalala, lalala, ssssaaaannnddwiiiitch, shalala.”
She hopped over to the counter, waving her two chunks of bread with reckless abandon. (“I’m goin' to make a sssaaannndwwitch, oh tralala.”) Hopefully she looked around for something that may make an appropriately neon-coloured texture-less filling. Well, there was blood…
Somehow she knew a blood sandwich would not make the best offering – and this sandwich was very important. An aphrodisiac of the highest order, that as with the old gods would turn the tide of Max’s affection… and possibly even make her swear less. Janey liked Max, liked her a lot, and wanted to please her as a result – this sandwich would be an ephipany.
Filling… filling? Janey could not possibly understand why this was so difficult – she was extremely intelligent, and it bothered her that the sense that was common evaded her. Maggie said so all the time… or had done back when the twins were speaking.
Distracted again suddenly by worry for her sister, she snatched a pear out of a fruit basket (for appearances’ sake only) and jammed it between the bread.
Ah, satisfaction was a meal well prepared.
“Maaaax!! I made you a ssssaaaannndwwitch!!”
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Thursday, 18 January 2007, 11pm (Hong Kong Time)
Jade glanced up from the heavy book she was reading as Valerian swept into the chamber. Rising gracefully off the chaise lounge, she pressed her lips to his waxen cheek and smiled dutifully, "You're looking awfully smug about something daddy, like the cat who's eaten the canary. What's pleased you so?"
Valerian gave an elegant shrug as he draped his Armani jacket carelessly across the back of a nearby chair. Drawing his daughter to sit beside him, he smiled indulgently as he stroked Jade's ebony hair. "You might remember, my flower, that I mentioned investigations I've been carrying out regarding the whereabouts of certain... individuals?" The Elder's mild tone was betrayed by the flashing temper in his eyes.
"Mmmm..." Jade's voice was non-commital. She had said nothing to her father about her run-in with Sam at the nightclub, Eden, and the role she'd played in Sam's disappearance... In fact, so much had happened since, Jade had barely given her nemesis much thought. *Which, in hindsight, might have been a mistake. Not a major one but an oversight nonetheless.* Truth be told, Jade wasn't worried about Valerian finding out. She knew that Samantha had been nothing but a stand-in (*And a pathetic one at that.*) till she returned to Valerian's side. The vampiress had been aware of the fact too... It had built the foundation for their mutual dislike.
Jade got up and crossed the room to pour herself a glass of chilled white wine. "You've made progress then?" Settling herself back down, she allowed herself a small pout. "Is it so important daddy? Finding Sam? Getting her back?"
"Now little one... For all your disagreements, she still belongs to our little family. I need to know why a childe of mine is able to vanish without a trace. Why I haven't sensed her demise, yet am unable to detect her presence. Why she saw fit to disappear just before the battle in which I lost two of my closest brethren..." Valerian's voice spiked with anger. "Which brings me to the other person I've been searching for..."
Jade knew whom her father referred to. Since Dathan and Nicholas had been killed, Valerian had thought of little else but the ritual Sorrow had performed and its origins. Research and investigation had reaped the name of the man who had discovered the ritual - Morris Giles - but all of Valerian's efforts at locating him had been futile. It was apparent, however, that the Elder's streak of luck had just taken a turn for the better...
********
The couple's harsh breathing and their animal grunts were unnaturally loud in the quiet of the room. The smell of stale cigarette smoke permeated the air of the dark motel room, mingling with the dust from the furniture and worn, maroon rug. Finally, the man flung his head back, his fangs bared, as his whole body shuddered with the desperate ferocity of his climax.
Pulling away from his lover, he stood and walked, unclothed, to the grimy window where he lit a cigarette. The muscular planes of his body had an almost-human glow, courtesy of the dirty yellow light streaming in from the naked bulb that hung outside.
"Really darling..." The woman on the bed rolled over, wrapping herself in the sheet. "Those things might no longer kill you but they're a filthy habit." With that, Samantha sashayed into the miniscule ensuite, closing the door with a sharp snap.
If he'd heard his sire, he didn't bother to respond. As the sounds of running water filtered through from the bathroom, JC yanked on a worn pair of denim jeans, a black t-shirt and left the room to hunt.
Reintroducing Jerry Yan as Julian Chen
Introduceing Blackthorn
Anyone standing in the dim hallway would have trouble making out the approaching figure. Clad all in black, the being marched purposefully up the corridor. Though the way was darkened, the figure's steps were sure, his knowledge of this passage so familiar he could navigate it with his eyes shut. Now his figure was illuminated briefly by moonlight from an adjacent broken window, but his form was just as quickly shrouded in darkness again as he passed quickly by. But of course, no-one was around to see it. The hallway was empty and silent as a tomb.
Blackthorn was lost in his own thoughts as he moved toward the Demon's private chamber. Most involved violent acts he would like to commit on Laplace's person, but he knew this was wishful thinking. Although he rarely showed it, Blackthorn knew the Demon to be one of the most powerful of its kind in Central America, also one of the most insane. No, perhaps insane was inaccurate. The man was unbalanced, certainly, but had a fair grasp of who he was and where. No, he was not insane. But still Blackthorn hoped this was one of the Demon’s better days.
Shaking himself out of his private reverie, Blackthorn climbed the seven stairs to Laplace's private chamber. Taking a deep breath, he knocked three times on the heavy oak door.
"Come in," shouted a voice few would suspect to be a Demon's. The voice was high-pitched and tense - certainly not the dulcet tones one might expect from an Elder Demon. But Blackthorn had heard this voice dozens of times, and was unsurprised by it. Carefully he opened the door, stepping into the chambers.
The room was massive, as big as a church hall - though any similarities were certainly coincidental. The walls were draped in red velvet, and a plush crimson carpet, the color of oxygen-rich blood, blanketed the floor. The bed in the corner was also characteristically huge, its four posts supporting a large canvas which roofed the place of sleep.
Decorating many walls were dozens of paintings, some bought, some painted by the Demon himself. A half-finished self-portrait sat on an easel near the west wall, the wet oils glistening in the lamplight. Several sculptures and busts also sat around on pedestals and various other bric-a-brac cluttered the room. All of these items were arranged haphazardly, as though simply thrown randomly around.
The Demon himself sat on a plush armchair near his bed, stroking a cat on his lap. The cat was lapping up milk from a bowl on the arm of the chair, while Laplace continued to stroke its fur. The Demon Elder was lean and medium-short but well-formed. His features were finely chiselled and his dark hair curled naturally, falling sometimes over his face. The Demon's eyes never lifted from the cat feeding on his lap as Blackthorn cleared his throat subtly to announce himself.
"Such a beautiful creature, the cat," said Laplace finally, still focused on the feline. "Perfectly formed, agile and strong with a blood lust like my very own. Evolved to hunt, but domesticated by man. Almost seems a shame." At that, the Prince lifted the creature to his mouth and buried his sharp teeth into the poor animal's neck, sucking a sip of blood from it, and then letting the rest of the carcass fall by the side of his chair. The animal's blood had spilled down Laplace's finely tailored garments. The cat carcass continued to spurt out the life-giving substance onto the floor, creating a growing pool of glistening crimson.
Blackthorn suppressed the urge to attack. To destroy an animal for no purpose made Blackthorn’s blood boil. And the Demon did not feed out of hunger, he simply sampled the blood because he felt the urge. Pleasure was the main and only concern in Laplace's life, and he didn't care what others thought - and perhaps was not aware that others even thought about him at all. As far as the Demon was concerned, he was the only person who existed in the entire world.
Blackthorn blinked once, hard, and spoke. "Your presence is requested, Lord. It is time for our pact to be sealed."
"Pact?" the Prince said, as though he had never heard the word. "But I never hold appointments on Sundays."
"That's right my Lord, but it's Tuesday." He tried not to let his voice betray his annoyance.
"No, no, it can't be. Send him away." The Prince waved his hand dismissively.
One of Laplace’s aides stared at the floor as he said, "That is not recommended, Sire. Berselius has come a long way. It reflects poorly on you to reject him thus."
There was a long moment of silence as Blackthorn almost wished the point had not been argued.
"Very well," Laplace said, ignoring his aide's insubordinance, "I will see Berselius."
The Demon headed out the door, walking briskly, treading feline blood deep into the plush carpet. Blackthorn sighed as he followed the Elder Demon to the audience chamber.
*****
Tuesday, 16th January 2007
Blackthorn would never forget that day, the worst day of his life. The day he allowed his pack to enter into a demonic pact with the demon Laplace from which they may well never be free. And it was fitting that this was the memory he thought of most, especially now as he finally passed the sign labelling this land “L.A. County”.
Mid-Season Three: Nov 1, 2006 - Feb 28, 2007
Wednesday the 13th, December, 2006
Poplar Avenue - Reah’s apartment
20:28
Quin stepped quietly into the living room from the kitchen, to where Reah was sitting dead eyed on the lounge. She’d been doing a lot of that lately. Although it wasn’t so uncommon for her to do it in front of the TV, like she was doing just now. She remembered Tash saying something over a month back about some kind of awesome communications thing that Reah had access to, but Quin never really learned much beyond that.
“Reah? Did you want to actually turn the television on? There’s a movie on-”
“I’m watching it already, Quin.”
Quin frowned, ducking her head sheepishly while she tried to puzzle out the mystery that was her cousin, “Ok, well-”
“I’m going to bed.”
“What?” Quin blinked, looking back over her shoulder at the clock, “But it’s only eight thirty. You’re not going to… um… ‘hunt’?”
“Are you going to lecture me? Do I have to?”
“Well… No, but-”
“G’night.”
“Reah!” Quin cried out.
Her cousin sighed and turned heavily around on her heel to face Quin, eyes tired and pleading for a release.
Quin ducked her head and started smoothing out her black skirt to avoid the painful expression that seemed almost permanent on Reah nowadays, “Um, nothing… I was just talking briefly with Tash the other day… She’s looking to have some kind of meeting, bringing all us ‘good guys’ together… and… yeah. Making our forces stronger by sharing our resources… I’m invited too!” Quin frowned, “Not that I’m really sure why…”
Reah’s gaze was distant, merely in her cousin‘s direction. After a moment of just staring, she relaxed her muscles and softened her tone, apologetically, “Thanks Quin. I’ll catch up with her later, sometime…” She shrugged, her head dropping backwards as she sighed upwards to the ceiling, “But right now, I’m just want to go to bed and sleep. I‘ll see you in the morning.”