*** March 1, 2007, around 2 am ***
*** Isla Nublada ***
Daye stood on the deck and gazed down at the dark blue waters below. She listened to the hushed conversation behind her between Inés and her boyfriend, Connor. Further back, near the rear of the boat, the mysterious man who’d contacted them and started them on this road stood, staring into the water as well. Daye wondered again just who exactly Ellis Longwood was, and why he had gotten involved in this. Daye thought about how hectic the last week had been after Inés contacted Alessa’s mind, and Ellis gave them the final link to the Council. That was what had brought them here in the first place, and with any luck this would be the last leg of their long journey.
Daye scanned the island that they were approaching, the boat enshrouded in mists. She shivered, quickly zipping up the light jacket she was wearing. It was cold and wet here on the water, and the island didn’t appear to be any more inviting.
“Alessa, if you’re out there,” Daye whispered into the wind, “just hold on. We’re coming for you.”
Inés was listening distractedly to Connor beside her; she wasn’t really paying attention to him. Her thoughts were recounting all that had happened in the last two days. From the moment Daye, Ellis and her had put two and two together and discovered where Alessa had been taken, everything had happened in a rush. Ellis had almost taken over the whole operation, hiring a plane and then this boat to take them to the island where she was sure Alessa was being held captive. He knew people in Colombia, he had said, and right now he was proving he did.
She leaned on Connor and wondered again at his reasons for helping too, but she was really grateful to him for offering his help as soon as he knew of Alessa’s kidnapping. His temper had clashed several times with Alessa’s friend, Ellis, but he was holding his own, and risking much. A jungle was no place for a vampire if day caught them ashore.
The sight in front of her was strangely familiar, although it felt as if she were seeing it from above, probably from a plane. She knew this image wasn’t hers, it was Alessa’s and it was so full of dread that Inés gritted her teeth. Since the moment she had first got in touch with her cousin the images she received kept becoming more blurry and distressful, a jungle and fear was all she could feel at the moment. The quality of her thoughts was deteriorating in a worrisome pace.
She shivered, not only from the cold, and she was grateful to feel Connor’s strong arm go around her shoulders. She gave another look at the misty island that was slowly getting nearer and nearer. She sighed; she just hoped they got to Alessa in time.
Ellis heard the demoness sigh and frowned. He was worried too. His associates in Colombia had sounded terribly scared at the sole mention of Isla Nublada. That was exactly the kind of stuff that enraged him, peaceful demons being terrified by humans. For some time he had received vague reports of experimentation linked to the Council; many demons had apparently been taken to a research facility of some kind in South America not to be seen again. But he hadn’t been able to discover where the facility was situated nor exactly what kind of ‘things’ were done in it.
However it wasn’t until he had talked to Danny and confirmed that Alessa had been taken by the Council and her cousin had called telling him that she knew Alessa was in Colombia, that he had made the link between Alessa and the research facility. His hand closed in a tight fist at the thought of her in that island.
Daye turned towards the others as the boat bumped against the shore. A small stretch of beach extended out from the edge of the jungle, and that was where their guide had brought them. From what Ellis had said, the man was very nervous about coming to Isla Nublada, but he couldn't resist the ridiculous amount of money Daye had offered.
Whatever had happened to Alessa, she knew that once again the Council was somehow involved and even though it didn't make any logical sense, she felt responsible. She just hoped that Alessa was going to be all right, and that whatever research was going on here was not as horrible as she was beginning to suspect.
“Well, we had better start looking," Daye said to Inés. "If we can find her before the sun comes up, that would probably be for the best. We don't know what kind of monitoring they have set up here. I'd rather get Alessa and just get out.”
“Yes, we'd better,” said Ellis and turned to look at Connor.
The vampire raised an eyebrow but understood the look quite well. This man knew about his nature, and for some reason hadn’t reacted to it. He turned to help Inés out of the boat, but smiled when he saw her jump lithely from the deck. Inés looked at home in this tropical setting.
The demoness walked a few steps towards the jungle and stood motionless for a moment, as if listening, but the rest knew she was trying to catch any hint of Alessa’s scent. She turned to them after a couple of minutes.
“I can't smell her, but Ellis said Alessa would be near a brook or stream, and I can smell water. Let’s follow that trail,” she said and started to walk towards the jungle line, the rest following right behind her.
Ellis nodded. He had received that inside information the night they were leaving for Colombia. He just hoped Alessa hadn’t done something stupid just when they were coming to get her. He turned to signal the guide to wait for them with the boat ready and then walked behind them.
James followed soon after Inés. He was carrying enough ammo to kill a hundred Watchers. He was angered because of what happened to Alessa and besides, he was warming towards Inés and he wanted to help her. It gave him a reason to function. As they got to the jungle, James hung his rifle from his side and took out a big machete to open a way through the thick bush, behind Inés. Somehow the demoness seemed to glide along the greenery, and did not need a path.
"Jungle imp," he said to himself but caught her smiling at him over her shoulder.
"You can’t imagine how much," she said, laughing, and changed before his eyes. The hairy, brown creature was much more secure and able in the tropical jungle.
Daye followed Inés and the others, feeling more than a little apprehensive. This island was shrouded in more than just natural mists. She could feel the prickle of strong magic on her skin, and she detected great suffering. Daye was not as sensitive as Kate, so she knew whatever was happening here was very, very bad. She shivered as they entered the dark, forbidding jungle, concentrating. She might need her magic at a moment's notice, and she wanted to make sure she wasn't slow on the uptake.
Daye walked with Ellis, her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. She desperately wanted to cast a spell to create some light, but knew that would be foolish. Instead, she stayed close to Ellis.
"Sorry if I seem a bit forward," Daye whispered, huddling near him, "but I'm a bit... well, to quote the Americans, freaked out. This place is really creepy."
Ellis turned his eyes from the demoness figure, and smiled at the Watcher.
“No problem,” he said, adjusting his pace to hers. “I agree with you. There’s something evil in this island, even I can feel it.” He looked around, he wasn’t carrying a rifle like Connor, but his gun was secure under his arm, unlocked and ready. “And we should be prepared…” he stopped at Daye’s stare, “for anything that may happen.”
Daye understood. She didn’t say anything more until they came to the river. Inés stopped there and bent low to the ground, apparently trying to scent out Alessa.
The Verbati squatted near a tree with large plank buttress roots. The mattress of dead leaves, insects and dust, so natural to all jungles, was unnaturally matted and trampled, as if somebody or something had slept there and she could smell Alessa’s scent. It was faint, very faint, but it was hers. Inés’ heart skipped a beat; finally, proof of Alessa being in the damn island.
Then she frowned. She sensed another smell as well, some kind of animal, probably a big mammal, mingled with Alessa’s scent. She stood up and moved towards the source of the smell, up in the trees. With a mighty jump she reached the lower branches of the giant tree, clawing her way securely up she got to the core of the tree. There the smell of Alessa was stronger, but so was the smell of the animal. She looked around trying to focus on the smells, her huge paws touching and feeling the tree’s branches, finally finding what she was looking for. In her hand was a tuft of hair, the cinnamon color of Alessa’s Verbati fur.
Inés jumped down then, resuming her human form before touching the ground with the grace of a big cat.
“She was here,” she said. “But so was a big mammal, probably some kind of cat. Follow me,” she said and started to move again.
As she walked she tried to reconstruct Alessa’s steps. Suddenly they walked into a small clearing among the trees. Inés walked surely following her cousin’s scent. A few feet away she found the spotted carcass of a jaguar; she squatted again next to it and touched it with a stick. It wasn’t stiff yet.
She looked up to the others and smiled broadly. “This explains the fight traces I found. She killed it.” Then she looked at the dead cat again. “Bien hecho, chica.”
“And it sm- looks fresh too,” added James, cursing from almost giving himself away; although the man already knew he was a vampire he didn’t want to alert the Watcher about it. “She can't be too far. Let’s go on.”
He watched their surroundings carefully; the full moonlight giving enough light to see around, but not enough to be too clear. The clearing finished a hundred feet away and the thick bush started again. Strange sounds and odors were coming from it.
James remembered his times in the Royal Army. He had been in jungles before, as a soldier, Africa, India… you name it, every major British Colony, and he could move in a jungle too. He looked at the back of Inés, already starting to cross the empty spot, and smiled… Well, not as well as she did, but he could manage himself quite expertly. He gripped the machete again and prepared to continue cutting their path into it.
Inés hurried her step, she felt the scent get stronger and stronger, and they were close. She was nearly running, gliding and moving with expertise through the undergrowth of the jungle. She was talking as she moved.
“She’s hurt, the cat… the cat hurt her. I can smell her blood; it’s a richer trail, her blood.”
Ellis gritted his teeth as he started to follow the pair in front of them, taking Daye’s elbow when the woman staggered with a raised root. More and more worried, as he heard Inés talking absently to herself. He couldn’t imagine the ordeal Alessa had had to go through in this forlorn island, hurt and alone, not knowing if she would ever make it. Wondering if… Chance… would get to her. He cursed, such timing!
They entered the jungle and were enveloped by its green darkness again. The humans could barely see the path Connor was making, but the swoosh of his machete cutting left and right was clear enough to follow.
“Wow!” came Inés’ startled cry from the front and he ran to join the two, almost collapsing into the vampire who extended an arm backwards to stop them. He steadied himself and looked down.
They were standing on a ledge, the trees growing just to the border, its roots protruding from it like dark hands off a tomb. There was a long drop down to yet another ledge and then, far below to a stream that glittered silver in the moonlight. Inés was looking down, her face the picture of dismay.
“She’s down there,” she whispered. “She must have fallen.”
James’ arms enveloped her. “Don’t lose hope, Alessa is a tough woman.” He turned to Daye and Ellis. “Care to do a little alpinism?”
“You go on, we’ll follow. This can't be worse than climbing Mount Blanc,” answered Ellis, eyeing the pronounced drop.
James smirked and started to follow Inés who had already started to half slide, half jump down the slope, using rocks and roots as help. When they finally got to the bottom, Inés looked around again and a small cry she run towards a dark figure crumpled on the ground. It was Alessa.
The demoness was in her natural form, and looked battered, but they couldn’t see how much until they got to her. Her cinnamon fur was tangled and dirty, dried blood matted the fur of her left leg and Daye saw with horror that it was terribly jagged, as if she had been bitten by a huge sharp-toothed mouth. She also bore several cuts and bites, probably the result of her fight with the big cat.
“Oh, Alessa, ¿qué te pasó prima? What happened to you?” whispered Inés, kneeling beside her and taking the demoness’ head gently in her hands. Inés felt her eyes fill with tears watching the sorrowful state of her cousin. She looked up to see Daye in a state of distress similar to her own. The Watcher was on her knees too, and was moving her hands over Alessa’s body, a look of concentration in her face.
“She’s alive,” she finally said, “Barely. I can help her, heal her, but not here. I don’t dare to do magic here.” Daye looked around, as if expecting fiends to materialize around them any minute. She was sure there were magical wards on the island; any magic she could perform would be surely spotted.
“Let’s go. The sooner we get her to the boat the sooner you can start the mending magic,” said Ellis, then he looked down at Alessa again, doubt in his eyes. The demoness looked too heavy to carry easily, they should try to make some kind of… he was surprised when Inés, changing again into her Verbati form, lifted the big creature with ease. He grinned. *Never underestimate a good demon.*
The party slowly climbed up the ledge again, but once they did the rest of the way was uneventful and easier than before. Following Inés’ sense of direction they moved steadily towards the shore where the boat was waiting for them. A couple of hours later they were sailing off the shore and leaving Isla Nublada behind; starkly delineated against the full-moon sky.
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cole and vincent visit the bibliophile
*** Tuesday, March 6, 2007 around 1 pm ***
*** The Bibliophile ***
Daye was arranging the books in the window display when the bell above the door announced the arrival of a new customer. Straightening, she put on her friendliest smile and turned to greet the new arrivals.
Two young men entered the shop, both quite good looking, but both obviously 'jailbait' as the Americans were so fond of saying. *Too bad,* Daye thought, admiring the way the boys moved, and the sexiness of their apparent innocence. *I bet I could teach them both a thing or two... maybe at the same time.*
Daye shook her head to clear it. *What the hell..?*
Daye walked over to the boys, one of whom, Cole, at least she knew. "Hi, Cole," she said pleasantly. "Good to see you. Is there something you need?"
The boy cast the woman an annoyed glance, as he and his companion grabbed the closest seats.
“Oh, hey Amanda, I forgot you worked here,” he said dismissively. “Two coffees, ok.”
Vincent couldn’t help but smirk at the boy’s blatant attitude towards the woman. Normally he was such a ‘good-kid’ but things seemed different now, he seemed more fun.
"She looks pretty good for an oldie don’t you think?" Cole commented to his friend, not caring if his loud, inappropriate comment was heard by the witch.
Vincent gave a wide toothed grin. “Yea, she’s a definite Milf. Man, just look at her ass.”
Vincent didn’t even need to look to know that he and Cole were both trained on Daye’s behind.
Vincent turned to look at Cole and smiled. “Hey man, you ever seen these?”
Vincent quickly lifted his shirt and placed down a large straight razor and then pulled out a pistol, and then finally a telescopic baton which he flicked out to its full length. “I love using these things, man. They are like my signature weapons back in New York. Everyone knew when
I had killed a guy, cos I would slash two vertical lines down a guy’s eyes after I was done.”
Cole seemed a little taken aback, but the moment of anxiety just simply faded away, as a large smirk crossed his face. “Vincent, you don’t need these boring weapons. Someone with your abilities is above resorting to guns, and batons.” Cole paused for a second as he eyed Amanda returning. “Now put them away before we frighten the poor woman.”
Vincent smirked as he put the weapons back. "You know Cole, our powers are only so much. Sometimes it’s better to get physical."
Daye had gone to get the boys their coffee, ignoring their rude remarks, but sort of enjoying the feel of their eyes on her body as she walked around the shop.
Stopping beside the table, she placed the cups before them and grinned. "Here are your coffees... on the house..." she said. Then she leaned forward, placing her mouth close to Cole's ear. She knew that the other boy would be in the perfect position to peer right down her shirt. "I don't just work here Cole... I practically own the place."
Daye stood back up and shot that same teasing grin at the other boy. "So... is there anything else I can get you? I'm sure two... growing... boys are always hungry for something."
Daye was totally turned on by the idea of flirting with the kids, who were so obviously way too young for it.
Cole was no longer giving the same cold shoulder routine that he had been a second ago. Now the woman had his attention.
“Well, now that you mention it, we could use something to eat. Two chicken sandwiches, if it’s not too much trouble,” he added, trying to fall into the nice kid role again - now it just seemed fake.
Vincent smirked at Daye. "Well, there is one kind of sandwich I would really like but I don’t think you have it here," Vincent gave a mischievous look. "Ya know Cole, I think we should go and find some girls and get you laid."
Daye smirked at Cole’s friend’s comment. He was definitely more experienced than the young man she knew.
"So, who's your... interesting friend?" Daye asked, once again eyeing the unknown young man. He was one of those pretty boys. The kind you usually saw in teen heartthrob magazines. Normally, Daye wouldn't have given him a second look, but just lately she'd been thinking it would be fun to try some new things. Of course she was just playing around. She wouldn't actually do anything like that, because... it would be wrong... wouldn't it?
Cole's smirk grew. He was young, but he wasn’t naive. He could sense the same playful air that had been occupying him of late in the Amanda. "This here is Vincent, Vincent, meet Amanda."
Daye shifted her body, bending across the table to flash the pretty young man another glimpse down her blouse as she graced him with a teasing smile and offered her hand in greeting.
"Nice to meet you, Vincent," she said. "My friends call me Daye, and any friend of Cole's is a friend of mine."
Vincent eyed the woman up and down. "So you run this book shop? It’s a nice place. I was never much into magic. I prefer using my inborn skills rather than dealing with gods and all that crap to get my power."
Daye snorted at the boy's words. *Gods?* she thought to herself. *He doesn't know much, does he?*
"Yes, I run this shop... and the restaurant as well," she replied. "As for powers and magic, well, my skills are something I was born with, young man. I just had to learn the best way to use them, and if you're going to be hanging around with Cole then you should probably learn to respect magic. Whatever it is that you can do, you can't begin to understand the power a person like myself might have at her fingertips."
Daye paused, realizing suddenly that she'd ruined the playful flirtation with a lecture. Trying to ease the tension, she grinned.
"So, what is it you do, anyway?" she asked, and then added as an afterthought, "And what kind of sandwich was it that you didn't think I could get you?"
Vincent chuckled to himself. He pointed towards a book laying face down in the corner and he gestured with his hand towards himself. The book flew across the room and landed on the table, rocking it slightly.
Vincent put his hand on Daye’s and smirked. "The sandwich is a very special one which can only be made with me, you, and my innocent friend."
Daye laughed outright at Vincent's blatant come on. She was amused by the boy's audacity and his confidence.
"Well, Cole, your friend is sure direct," Daye said, extricating her hand from Vincent's grasp. "But I'm afraid now's not the right time to oblige you both. Not that I'm sure I would, mind you. I seriously doubt you could handle me."
Cole started to chuckle at the woman’s fiery comeback. “Touché,” he said cheekily. “Now maybe we aren’t up to your level yet, but we’re always ready to learn,” he added, beckoning the woman to lean closer in, so the other patrons would not hear his next comment.
“Now Ms. Blaise, do you have any fun books in this little bookstore of yours? I think I’ve warmed the bench long enough, and it’s time for me to get back in the game, if you catch my drift.”
Daye paused. This change of subject from Cole was very unexpected. She wasn't sure why he would make such a decision, considering what had happened in the past, but she couldn't help but notice how much more confident and in control he seemed.
*And why not?* she thought to herself. *Magic isn't dangerous. Fear... that's what teaches us that it is. He's strong, young, smart, and I'm sure he can handle it."
"I have lots of interesting books here, Cole," Daye replied. "It's a bookshop, remember. But if you're looking for... education, then I might just be able to help you out there myself."
The boy’s eyebrow crooked up, now more intrigued by the woman than ever. She didn’t scold him, or pester him with lectures on magic, instead she had alluded to even taking him under her wing. Why? But he didn’t need to ask the question; he could feel inside her the same strange wild and raw energy that was afflicting him.
“Is that so?” he grinned devilishly. “But I’m looking for something new. No more fluffy bunny magic. After what I’ve been through, I think it’s time I learnt some real magic.” He leaned even closer to whisper in her ear, “Darker magic.”
Daye's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Her first instinct was to argue, to protest, but then she paused. Why? What was so wrong with what Cole was looking for here? The boy didn't want to be weak. He didn't want to make it easy for the nasties out there. She could hardly blame him for that.
"I... There are some things I have, but I've never really looked at them," Daye admitted finally. "I would want to check them out myself first, Cole. I would hate for anything to happen to such a fine young man."
Vincent swung back on his chair while eyeing Daye up the whole time. “Man, this is so boring. I hate all this magic crap. I’m gonna boost.” Vincent brought his chair down and quickly got to his feet. He tossed down a card. “That’s my mobile number. Phone me sometime. We can have a little fun. Or you could come with me now and we could chat with some rather nice Mexican girls.”
Cole seemed briefly annoyed by his friend’s outburst. Couldn’t he see this was important? *Of course not, someone like him has such limited vision.* However, it seemed like he wasn’t going to make any more progress right now with Daye, so maybe it was time to leave. “Actually Vincent, your invitation sounds like it could be fun,” he said, also getting out of his chair.
“Well Amanda, hopefully we can make arrangements sometime. I’ll be at the funeral, so we could discuss this some more then.”
Daye shrugged as the two young men decided to take their leave. She obviously had some stuff to think about that she'd never seriously considered before, but if Cole wanted to delve into stronger magic, she would need to do some work to be ready to help him.
"Sure, I'll be there... at the funeral," she replied. She paused and seemed to consider. Then she reached into the pocket of the apron she wore at her waist and withdrew a card. She scribbled on the back of it and then handed it to Cole. "This is my home number. If you're serious about this, give me a call in a couple of days and we'll start something. I should be ready by then."
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Monday the 5th, March, 2007
12:01pm
Quin’s nerves ran through her like wild fire, consuming every fibre of her being. More than once she’d turned her head longingly towards the exit, contemplating an escape as she waited timidly for her name to be called. She’d never done anything like this before - but then again, given what her life had been, she hadn’t really had much of a choice.
But that was all about to change. She was going to sit here, and she was going to do this, regardless!
Quin raised her hands off her lap and stared as they shook uncontrollably before her. She clenched her eyes shut in attempt to block out the rest of the world.
She was still an outcast here, and she doubted she’d ever fit in, but something nagged at her to take a stand… possibly Reah. Her cousin seemed to carry a certain air about her that Quin longed to possess. She couldn’t help but wonder every night before she fell asleep, that if things hadn’t happened as they did, that she just might have!
Unfortunately, that wasn‘t the case…
“Ah-choo!”
Quin blushed, quickly darting her eyes up the row of seats to the other waiting girls. A couple of them were glancing her way, one of them hiding a small snigger behind her hand at the short clipped, mousy pitch of her sneeze; but on the whole, most of them were too engaged in their own little worlds to be bothered with hers.
A sudden rush of panic swept over her, replacing the embarrassment, leaving her flustered and checking her forehead for any signs of a fever. She never got sick! She’d never even had a cold! Why did this have to happen now, of all times?
“Hey.”
Quin jumped at the voice that suddenly addressed her. A girl she hadn’t noticed had made her way over and invited herself into the seat next to Quin. Quin couldn’t help but feel a slight bit of contempt for the girl’s forwardness. Why couldn’t she just do that?
“Try not to stress yaself,” she smiled warmly, nodding towards the stout woman a little further up the hall. Quin found herself noting the large, tightly wound bun atop the woman’s head as the girl beside her continued. “You’re that new Aussie chick, aren’t ya?”
Quin nodded uncomfortably, just wanting the conversation over and hoping the girl would leave sometime soon so she could get this over and done with. “Are all Aussies as quiet as you? Some others think you’re odd, but I told ‘em it’s probs just your culture or somethin’. Heh, it’s funny, ya know? I always thought you Aussies were supposed ta be a bunch of alcoholics, or something’, haha!”
Quin frowned strangely, keeping her head lowered while her eyes peeked wondrously at the girl. Was she for real? “Um… maybe…?” She didn’t even know what to answer… if she was supposed to at all! What she wanted to say was for her to shut the hell up!
The girl must have recognised Quin’s discomfort, and shifted around slightly in the seat towards her. “Hey, look, sorry. Am I being too full on for ya?”
“Um…”
“Cos I know ya new, and I’ve seen you around…” She paused, “You haven’t made any friends yet, have ya?”
*Christ!* Quin’s nose scrunched up rankly and she tried harder to hide her face. For a second she thought the other girl was improving. But then she had to go ahead and say that! Sympathetic or not, how retarded did she need to be that she couldn’t come up with something else?
“Um… no! I… um-”
“Hey, look,” she continued over the top of Quin’s unnerved stuttering. “Why don’t ya hang out with me? I could show ya all the spots and fill you in on anything ya need to know. Yeah? Great!”
Quin raised her hand over her eyes as she rolled them, *Gee, thanks for answering for me!*
The girl laughed, slapping Quin playfully on the back.
… Had she said that out loud?
“Hey, shit! I haven’t even introduced myself! Heh, sorry.” Quin flashed her an unfelt smile and noticed the girl’s flustered cheeks. She was sort of pretty, in a tom-boyish way, and had beautiful, big, hazel eyes, moderately dressed in black eyeliner and mascara that brought them out more. Her brown hair was just short of shoulder length, styled around her face, and looked as though she’d just got up, washed it, then hadn’t bothered with combing or drying it.
What caught Quin’s attention the most, though, was the one piercing on her face: a single, silver ring that looped over her lower lip.
The girl leaned back slightly, warm smile spread right across her face as she openly offered her hand to Quin, “Name’s Chastity.”
The sudden burst of laughter that followed had Quin concluding that the questionable thoughts running through her mind must have found their way onto her face. “I know, huh! Goes to show how much meaning there is in a name, eh? Haha!”
After a moment, when Chastity was near tears, Quin soon found herself trying to suppress her own amusement as the girl’s lively spirit started rubbing off on her.
“Chastity Lane?”
The two girls’ laughter was cut off short by the call from the stout, bun woman at far end of the hall facing the stage they were all sitting just off to the side of. Quin heard Chastity take in a deep breath, straightening in her chair softly muttering, half to Quin, half to herself, “That’s me. First… dang.”
“Chastity?”
“Yo!” She stood up in her chair, looking slightly nervous under the singing teacher’s scrutiny. Quin hadn’t picked the girl as the type to give much of a shit over a teacher… but she was obviously passionate enough and wanted it so much that, in this particular circumstance, she did.
“Up on the stage please,” The woman gestured to Chastity without sparing another glance away from the sheet music in front of her.
“Good luck!” Quin tried smiling encouragingly up at the girl as she stepped away. Another cold shiver of nerves ran down her spine: she knew she’d be soon to follow.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
The - reformed - Armoury
Monday the 5th, March, 2007
20:39
“Hey! Damen! Get your firm ass over here and help me out!”
Damen sniffed, leering at Reah as she smirked playfully and unpacked the final box for the night. It was just your basic stationery and what nots. She’d been busy all day furnishing the new Armoury and fixing it up with final touches. The computer system was to be installed tomorrow, and the security system was to be fixed up after a minor flaw Reah had noticed when she’d done a ‘personal scan’ through it. Other than that, they were nearly all good to go.
They just needed to wait for the newest load of stock to come in so they could finish stacking the shelves that were otherwise looking a bit bare. This place was even bigger than the old Armoury!
It was perfect.
Ground level, second level, roof access and basement access with sewer access! Not surprisingly, the place had definitely come at a cost. And not just by financial means.
In the end, Reah couldn’t care. For her, it was the best it could be. Not to mention its little quirk they’d gained after their struggle to hold the place just after she’d purchased it back in January. Reah smiled inwardly, *Negatives can be turned to positives!*
“Right!” She clapped her hands together, rising from behind the service desk, “I’m off!”
Damen paused, his back turned to her, then swivelled around with a perplexed look on his face. “You’re off?”
“Yup!” She grinned, moving deftly around the counter while calling back over her shoulder, “I’m gone! You’ll be right to lock up, won’t you?”
“HA! Nice try, Reah,” he answered rather bluntly. “I’ll be fucked if I’m going to hang around here to fix up your damn store while you go and do god knows what!”
For a moment Reah just stood there, then turned, frowning back at him with a slightly peeved look at the fact she’d been denied a smooth exit. Damen’s gaze, however, didn’t ease up in the slightest at her now pouting lips.
After what seemed like an age of them battling stares, Damen finally cracked a sly grin, “It’s not going to work, you know.”
Reah’s body slumped like a spoilt child, and stamped her foot in annoyance. “Fine!”
“Hehe, don’t go poking your tongue out,” he warned her childish temper, then moved his own way around the counter, “You know what’ll happen to it otherwise.”
“Oh? I hab mo ibea!” she spoke awkwardly around her still protruding tongue, eyes sparkling with delight as he roughly snatched her up in his arms. Soft laughter trickled from her lips as they eagerly met his in a passionate kiss.
“Mmm… Ya know,” she smiled languorously, pulling away and playfully teasing him with light petite kisses on his venturing lips. “We could… go… hunting together? Hmm…”
“Could we now?” Damen broke off momentarily with a smirk, despite his longing for her taste.
Seizing her tighter with a savage jerk, Reah’s eyes bulged, but recovered from the jolting movement and glanced back up into his hungry eyes. She wanted to get out tonight. Needed to, in fact! At least as far as she was concerned. And if it meant taking Damen along with her, so be it. Though she doubted his distraction would prove to be of help in achieving her set goal for the night. Especially considering that she wasn’t successful the previous night when she was on her own!
Oh well! She was up for some fun. And for her, there was nothing better than a good rough‘n’tumble with the vamps, driven on desire.
Swaying loosely in his arms, Reah smiled and leant in for one more lingering kiss before pulling away and suddenly jumping from his arms leaving him momentarily stunned on the spot with his arms outstretched, frozen.
“Right! Let’s go!” Reah beamed with enthusiasm, her smile bright and full of life, enticing an aghast Damen to follow.
“They’re all nuts!” Damen muttered bemusedly under his breath after a moment, shaking himself out of a daze and swiftly snatched his jacket up off a nearby chair with a rueful smirk, “Fucking nuts!” *Women! They’ll be the bloody death of me!*
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Tuesday, March 6th, 2007
7:43 PM
1318 Poplar Av.
The boy paced anxiously around the apartment, not sure what to do with himself. *TV?... Na. Music?...Not in the mood. Homework?... HAHAHA!*
None of the options that came to Cole’s mind proved to be the least bit enticing. He was antsy, jittery, craving something fun, exciting, wild. *Christ, Darian’s going to be back in an hour,* he thought unhappily, realizing that once the fae was home, any opportunity for real fun would be over. *God, he’s such a boyscout.* “There’s nothing to do!” he whined aloud.
He and Vincent had just spent a rather eventful day, cruising around town, skipping classes, and meeting some very attractive Mexican friends of Vincent’s. But beyond their obvious physical allure, Cole had taken no interest in them - ever since he had awoken from his coma, only one girl had place in his thoughts… Quin. After they had kissed, his feelings for her had skyrocketed. There was something about her, an aura, a connection, an understanding. But he couldn’t tell her all that, could he?
Why the hell not? He knew he was young, smart, attractive, why wouldn’t she want him? In fact, she would be lucky to have him. Not every girl had the chance to be with a teenage prodigy of the mystic arts. Now that Daye was going to help him get back into magic, he would be able to offer her so much more than other guys, he could offer her the world. With a wicked smirk, Cole immediately jogged out of the apartment and confidently marched to Reah’s door.
“When the rumba rhythms start to play,
Dance with me, make me sway…”
Quin stood steadily on her feet, a slight sway in her stance on occasion as she drifted, tuning into the tone of her voice as she concentrated on the music as it flowed through her vocal cords.
“Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore,
Hold me close, sway me more…”
Reah wasn’t home when she’d returned from school, and it wasn’t hard for her to guess that she was likely at the Armoury again, fixing up a whole lot of nothing that Quin didn’t have much care for. It was bad enough that Quin was dragged into helping her out in January - something she was forever going to have to live with the repercussions of till she died.
Oh well! At least now she had the apartment to herself, she could practise singing in the open lounge room without worry or fear of being sprung.
“Like a flower bending in the breeze,
Bend with me, sway with ease…”
Cupping a set of headphones to her ears, she was in complete abandon to the world around her….
“When we dance you have a way with me,
Stay with me, sway with me….”
“Quin are you there?” Cole said loudly, knocking abruptly on her door. Yes, this was what he needed, something to quench the fire inside him, something to calm his jittery nerves.
“Oth… hm?” Quin hastily ceased mid song when she thought she heard something. Paranoia washed over her as she quickly darted her eyes about the apartment.
No… no one was there… she was still alone. Was there someone at the door?
“Hello?” Quin called out curiously, stepping cautiously towards the entrance, pulling the headphones off so she could hear better. She continued humming the same tune to herself as she approached the door to investigate.
“It’s me,” the boy called out again, growing frustrated that she was taking so long. “Would you open up, Quin?”
*Cole?* Quin smiled to herself and reached out to open the door.
“It was open, you know,” she said sweetly leaning her head against the door’s edge as she greeted her friend. For some reason she didn’t feel as flustered as she thought she would of if she’d possibly been overheard singing to herself. She was in an oddly good mood, but then again, Reah hadn’t returned home yet.
“Quin,” Cole said, his eyes glinting devilishly, as he took in the small, sleek figure before him. “Do you know what I want?” he asked, taking the girl off guard with the seemingly bizarre question. He leaned closer to her, slowly taking in her soft sweet scent. “This is what I want, Quin.” Without further warning, he brought his lips to hers; passionately, savagely.
Quin’s eyes bulged at the sudden forwardness of Cole’s actions. *What the…! Why…?*
“Ah!” Quin pushed herself away, her eyes locking onto his with a severe mixture of confusion, searching for answers. “Cole! What… What are you doing?”
She still held onto him by the shoulders, keeping him at bay while he looked back at her, an air of arrogance and surprise at her reaction, as if to say “What! You don’t want the same thing?”
Eventually Quin couldn’t help herself, a devious smirk cutting through her features, “Let me show you how it’s really done…”
She pulled Cole towards her, allowing her lips to taste every area of his neck. The teen managed to kick the door closed with his foot, as the two moved deeper into the apartment… closer to the nearest bed.
“I’ve wanted this since I first saw you,” he panted carnally, lifting his arms up to allow Quin to pull off his t-shirt.
Quin smiled between kisses, discarding his shirt off to the side before pulling him back in, sealing off all breath with a deep pash that lasted a near minute. For so many years she’d been doing this, she knew her game, but she hadn’t a choice back then. Finally - after all this time - she actually desired this, so much so that she surprised even herself.
And it showed…
Cole was left staggering for a moment when they finally took breath, and Quin merely smiled softly up at him, resting her arms atop his shoulders as she absently caressed his neck with her thumb. But first, before she went any further, she needed to know…
“Would this be your first…?” There was no need for her to finish the question.
The boy chuckled, “Don’t worry, I’ve got experience.” Being a runaway at such a young age had caused him to be exposed to life experiences so much faster than normal teens, not to mention the fact that he had lived with a prostitute.
“This is Reah’s room,” Quin said, as Cole pulled her through the doorway.
“Does it look like I care?” he replied coolly.
Quin’s smile widened as she sternly pushed the boy onto the large mattress and proceeded to climb on top of him and unbutton her shirt. His hands glided along her alabaster skin, resting finally at her waist. A second later, with a quick jerk, Cole pulled her close and rolled over, allowing him to be on top.
“What happened to that shy, unassuming boy next door?” she asked coyly, her hands moving to unbutton his jeans.
The teen’s hand traced the contours of her waist a tad longer, before reciprocating Quin's actions. "I have no idea who you are talking about."
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, 7th March 2007 - 10:25am
Riding up to Alessa's house, Tash felt guilty that she'd left it this long to see her friend. But Emma's death had pushed so many other concerns aside, and Tash knew that Alessa had people to care for her who were closer to her than Tash was. Still, the thought still nagged at her that she really should have seen Alessa before this, especially given the story Daye had told her about the woman's memory loss and erratic behaviour. Parking the bike, Tash strode up to Alessa's front door and rang the bell.
Alessa peeked through the spy-hole and saw the familiar figure of Tash on the other side of the door. She closed her eyes and leaned on the door to settle her confused feelings. The first couple of days after the rescue she had been waiting for Tash to come, and when her friend hadn’t Alessa had just convinced herself that she didn’t mind to cover her disappointment. Then she had learnt of Chance’s death, and the disappointment had turned to anger.
Now Tash was here, and she didn’t want to even try to understand her feelings. Unlike what she had thought, the sight of the woman filled her with a mix of joy, anger and sadness. She sighed, *Well, it won't help not to open the door.*
She saw that Inés approached her and smiled at her cousin before opening the door. “Tash,” she said, “It’s good to finally see you.”
Tash smiled at Alessa, "Hi, sorry I've been so slow to come see you - it's been a hell of a week, but I know that's no excuse." Tash shook her head. So much death in so short a time, was the Universe punishing them for something? From the corner of her eye she spotted another figure just beyond the door, and smiled at her. "Hi, you must be Inés. I'm Tash, pleased to meet you at last."
“Encantada.” Inés moved forward and smiled at Tash, but her demeanour was cold. She then turned to her cousin. “I have to go to the club. Victor called, he wants to see me. I’ll go now that you have company.” She walked to the bedroom to change and left the other two women alone.
Alessa looked at her retreating back and then turned to Tash again, realizing that the woman was still standing in the threshold. She moved away and gestured for her to come in. When they were sitting on the living room, Inés appeared again. She kissed Alessa and nodded to Tash before leaving the apartment.
“Can I bring you anything?” Alessa asked Tash after the door closed. “Coffee, tea? A soda?”
The hairs prickled at the back of Tash's neck. She glanced at the door through which Alessa's cousin had just left. "I get the impression she doesn't like me..." Tash began, then winked and finished jokingly, "Just what have you been telling her about me?"
The feeling hadn't entirely dissipated with Inés' departure, however, and Tash subtly kept a closer eye on her friend as she responded.
Alessa shrugged. “Nothing. Why would I?” But she felt uncomfortable; she could see that she wasn’t deceiving Tash. She got up and walked to the kitchen, to brew some coffee. She wasn’t surprised when Tash followed her there, though. She didn’t turn around and kept filling the kettle with water. “So, what have you been doing these days?”
"These past few days I've been helping Kate out a lot. You heard about Emma, I'm sure. It's... I'm sorry I wasn't here for you earlier, but I know you had Inés and Cole and Darian to help you through Chance's death, but Kate's husband has been very weird about Emma and it's been tough there. Alessa..." Tash placed her hand on the woman's shoulder, ready to give her a hug, "I have been thinking about you, and worrying about you. I know how hard it is to lose a loved one, especially in such circumstances…"
But Alessa wasn’t paying attention. She just looked at her, not understanding. “Emma? Kate’s baby?” Then she asked Tash, “What happened?”
"Oh, you mean nobody's told you? I thought for sure... Oh..." Closing her eyes, Tash broke the news. "Five days ago, Kate's little girl died in hospital. She had acute meningitis..."
“No… I didn’t know. Nobody’s come to see me… Emma?” The image of the little girl playing with her ball appeared clearly in her mind. “Dios, poor baby… pobre Kate…”
The water had filled the kettle and was now running freely over her hands but she didn’t notice. She could only think about Kate and that sweet little girl. Alessa’s eyes filled with tears as she searched for Tash’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Tash.”
Tash sighed. "There's been so much death lately, it's awful. I don't know how any of us cope any more. Here, let me help you with that." She deftly turned the tap off, stemming the flow of water, and grabbed a towel to mop up the spillage.
"The funeral's this afternoon... I was sure Daye or Darian or someone would have contacted you about the details. Kate wanted everyone to know, so you're more than welcome to come... if you want."
Alessa just stared at the woman but she couldn’t react. Too much death… that was putting it mildly. Then she thought about the funeral, *No,* she said to herself, she couldn’t go to a funeral, not now. It was just too soon. She opened her mouth but couldn’t utter a sound.
Finally she managed to speak, “I’m sorry Tash, I don’t think I can. You… you tell Kate how much I’m sorry, but… but-“ she choked and pressed her hand to her mouth. “I just can't go.”
*A funeral. Chance didn’t even have a funeral,* she thought and the sobs she was controlling threatened to emerge, but she breathed deeply and managed to sigh instead. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
Tash wrapped Alessa in a warm hug. "It's ok, you don't have to go. But maybe we should have a quiet ceremony for Chance too? Perhaps add some things to the memorial we left for Victor and Sorrow."
The demoness surrendered to Tash’s warm embrace, and the tears that were always on the surface these last days flew freely. “That would be nice,” she said when she could finally speak. Then she moved away, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry, I… I usually can control myself but everything has been so strange lately. And Chance… I… I miss him so much!”
She felt the raw pain again, and tried to control herself. “I didn’t know about Emma, and nobody came to see me, only Cole, and-” she looked down guiltily. “I’m sorry Tash, I should’ve known you couldn’t come.”
Shaking her head, Tash sighed, "I feel awful, I thought you were being looked after. I'm so sorry, Alessa. I should have made the time."
She offered a watery smile, "I think we should form a subset of the White Hats - surviving spouses of mystical deaths and disappearances... And speaking of disappearances, have any of your memories returned? Daye said you were suffering amnesia."
Alessa shook her head, “No, I haven’t. I can't remember anything since mid February. It’s all… blank, I just have this sense of complete… fear and despair. Not a feeling I want to experience again.” She looked around; they were still standing in the kitchen. “Let’s not talk here,” she said, and led Tash to the living room again.
When she sat down she went on. “I’ve also had nightmares, I can't remember them but the feeling when I wake up… it’s the same.” She shuddered, “I don’t really know if I want to learn what happened, you know? Although not knowing is equally disturbing.”
She avoided Tash’s eyes and the compassion and understanding she saw in them. She felt guilty about her previous thoughts about her, although she couldn’t help feeling sort of neglected. She was still certain about not wanting to go back to the White Hats too, but she wouldn’t tell her just yet.
“However, Ellis- Daye told you about Ellis, right?" She didn’t wait for Tash’s response, and carried on, "He was Ernie’s son. Well, he’s investigating what he can about Isla Nublada, the island where I was found, and how it connects with the Council. He has his own group of people, you know?” She sighed, “He’s not getting much, though.”
”Hmm, yes, Daye told me that the Council use that island… it doesn’t make sense. I know they’re weird about non-humans in general, but I’d hardly think they’d consider you a threat. They must know the Verbati are generally peaceful.” Tash shook her head, “It’s a pity you can’t remember what happened there…”
Tash paused, and looked into Alessa’s eyes, noting the uncertainty in them. “I know you’re worried that there might be painful memories of your time there, but I think it would be beneficial in two ways for you to learn what happened. It would at least give you peace of mind, remove the ambiguity about your experiences there. And secondly, it would help us to find out what this connection with the Council is – how deeply it goes. I’d hope it’s some weird splinter group or something… but who can tell these days?”
She sighed and held up her gloved hands. “What I’m saying is that I can maybe help you to dig those memories out, if you’re willing. I’ll tell you, though, that it won’t be an easy thing – for either of us. It’s hard to guide my gift, and strong emotions come out easiest. It’s likely you’ll end up reliving some traumatic times, but at least you might be able to fill in some of those blanks.”
Alessa understood what Tash was offering; she had witnessed her enter Cole’s memories during Proserpexa’s ordeal, and knew what Tash could do. However, there were things she didn’t want Tash to know yet; she wasn’t about to reveal that she had regained contact with James, for example, or her belief that the White Hats should have tried harder with Chance or her anger at Darian. No, she wasn’t letting Tash touch her.
She smiled apologetically to the woman. “I don’t think so, Tash. I’m sorry, but as I said, I don’t really want to know.”
Tash dropped her hands back to her lap and nodded slowly, feeling Alessa’s apprehension. “I understand. It’s not something to rush into, and it is very… intense. But if you change your mind you know where to find me.”
The two sat quietly for a while, but Tash had an uncomfortable feeling, almost as if Alessa didn’t really want her there. *Well, maybe she doesn’t. I mean, I wasn’t exactly sociable for a while after Victor…* A long sigh escaped her lips at the thought of her lost love. Over five months had passed since he’d gone and still she thought of him every day, the wound still fresh. It distressed her that Alessa was going to have to go through the same ordeal.
Finally Tash spoke, breaking the silence. “I wish I’d known about the events in Israel beforehand… so few of them went. I know time was of the essence, but so many of us were in that building, it wouldn’t have taken long to get us going. Then maybe Chance wouldn’t have… It’s like with you, too. I only found out that you were missing after the expedition to find you had already left! I don’t think everyone understands what the White Hats are all about just yet. The Foundation has plenty of resources… but they do no good sitting around unused.”
She let out a breath, aware that her feelings of uselessness had spilled into a tirade. “I’m sorry, this isn’t really the time or place to be saying stuff like that… What’s done is done and we can’t go back and change them. Well,” Tash laughed hollowly, “not without more time travel, anyway.” The laughter faded as quickly as it had begun. “Alessa, I’d like to help arrange something for Chance – a memorial. We could do it at the same place we used for Victor and Sorrow, unless there’s somewhere else you think would be more appropriate?”
Alessa gave her own hollow laugh. “I don’t really know. Actually, I never really knew much about him. I mean, I knew Chance , the man I loved. But Chance was just the outer layer of who he was.” She sighed, “I had thought I had time to go on unwrapping him – to get to understand and know the rest of him. Now I never will.”
Again, Alessa had to turn her eyes away from Tash; she feared she would burst into tears if she kept looking at her. She bit her lip and nodded. “A memorial would be perfect, Tash. He’d have liked that.”
Tash nodded. "Good. Emma's funeral is later today, but I can come back tomorrow and we can work something out for Chance. And... I'll understand if you don't feel up to coming to tomorrow's meeting. I suspect it'll be a fairly small one this week anyway. But I found that keeping myself busy helped me to keep going after Victor stayed behind on G'rnatha, so whenever you feel up to it I'd love to see you restart your training sessions."
She leant forward and clasped Alessa's hand lightly. "And any time you need someone to talk to, or if you want to work off some excess energy, or you just want to do something like go on a shopping spree... I'm here for you. Call me, night or day."
Alessa started to cry again, she felt really bad about Tash, how could she have so angry about her? She responded Tash’s grip strongly, and let herself fall into her embrace again. “I know, thank you. I’m sorry I was so angry at you for not coming, I thought you had forgotten about me.” She laughed to soften the comment, then she moved away and wiped her tears. “Look at me, I’m worse than a dripping faucet!”
Tash made a rueful face at Alessa's remark, but she didn't let it sting too badly. After all, her friend was right - she knew about Alessa's pain, but she'd felt Kate had a more pressing need of her support. *Too many grieving friends,* she sighed to herself.
"Cry as much as you want," Tash said, rising. "Rest here and I'll go make that coffee for us. Then I can stay with you for a couple of hours if you want, or I can leave you be. Whichever you want."
Alessa was surprised to see that she actually wanted Tash to stay. She needed the warm comfort she could offer, and she needed to talk about Chance – to somebody that had liked him and knew his worth. She hadn’t find a good audience in either Inés or Ellis; they both resented him, and she hadn’t wanted to talk with Cole either, he was too hurt. What she had told James was right, she wasn’t ready to talk about Chance’s death, but she wanted to talk about his life.
“Did I ever tell you about our trip to Paraguay?” she asked Tash, who was already fumbling with the kettle in the kitchen.
In the kitchen, Tash smiled as she tipped some of the water out of the overfilled kettle and switched it on before rummaging around for mugs. "Not in detail,” she called back out, “I'd love to hear about it - what little I heard sounded magical."
Soon Tash had prepared two mugs of steaming coffee, and found some cookies to put on a plate. Settling down next to Alessa on the sofa she tucked her legs beneath her and fixed her attention on her friend. "Tell me about Paraguay," she said.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday 7th March, 2007
Just outside LA.
10:36 PM
A sign indicating LA at ten miles flashed into the rusted-red truck’s headlights, passed, and faded into the dark of night. The truck rumbled onwards. Billy Bob, the proud owner of the vehicle that most people would be ashamed of, mumbled something about it not being long now. His passenger barely grunted in reply.
Billy Bob snatched a glance at the kid out of the corner of his eye. Surely he should still be in school? Naw, college, maybe?
College kids. That made Billy Bob sneer. He hated those rich, upper class brats.
Billy Bob, of course, had never been to college. He had barely finished school himself.
But, by the look of him, the guy didn’t appear to be a student. Oh, he was wearing old clothes, but beyond that of normal poor students. He also smelt. And, evidently, had no money. Or he wouldn’t be hitchhiking.
Whatshisname, Kyle, hadn’t changed his position for the entire journey. He leant his head on one hand and gazed out the window, lost in his own little word, the other hand buried in his pocket. He had hardly said a word, as well. It was… unsettling to Billy Bob, to say the least. More than once he had attempted to start up a conversation with him, but each time he had been met with mono-syllabic replies or, mostly, grunts, and had eventually given up.
Billy Bob was beginning to regret picking up this particular hitchhiker. He always picked them up when making his journeys. Billy Bob travelled around a lot looking for jobs, women, whatever, you see, and generally they made the time pass easier. But this time… well, he would just be thankful when they reached LA, his stop, and he never had to see this Kyle again. He pressed down harder on the pedal, pushing the speed limit by about ten mph now.
Returning his gaze to the road, Billy Bob pushed his thoughts to the back of his head and concentrated on driving and pushing off sleep.
Kyle caught the driver’s glance at him out of the corner of his own eye, but ignored it. So what if he didn’t feel like making idle conversation? What could ‘Billy Bob’ possibly know that would interest him anyway? It was bad enough he was having to take the long road to Vegas as it was. Chatting to this middle-aged slob of a loser wasn’t really going to make it any better or contain his frustration at this mind-numbingly boring journey.
He was beginning to wonder if he would ever get to Las Vegas. From Miami he had steadily worked his way across the breadth of the US. Not easy by any measure, and a lengthy business. Then, the closest he had been able to get was San Diego. San Di-fricken’-ego. Might of well have been the other side of the god-damned world. At least LA was one step closer.
The hand that was in the pocket of a pair of faded blue jeans gripped both a stake and a flick-knife. You could never be too careful, and Kyle had found, mostly the hard way, that it paid to trust no-one, and suspect everyone. That he had been offered a lift didn’t mean anything. Any minute now, Billy Bob could vamp out and drain him dry, feast on his brain, or cart him off somewhere to use him as some twisted sex-slave. It wouldn’t surprise Kyle if any of the above happened, and the first two, at least, had happened before.
He gave a mental shrug. Vampires. Zombies. Paedophiles. Go fuckin’ figure.
*****
Some time later
The truck passed through the suburbs of LA. It was halfway down an empty street when the engine spluttered, coughed, and died. Kyle looked over as Billy Bob turned the key in the ignition once, twice, three times, but there was only a painful response. They both eyed the engine as steam began to rise from it.
“Aw, baby, no. Don’t do this to me…” Billy Bob muttered, throwing open his door and climbing out to inspect the damage for himself.
*How can anybody call this rust-bucket a ‘baby’?* Kyle wondered to himself. *It’s incredible it made it this far. I half expected it to give out back on the highway.* He continued watching as the bonnet was opened, curses and moans accompanying a gust of more steam, then resettled into his position. Maybe he should cut his losses now, screw the station where he had asked to be dropped off, and hitch-hike on to LA? After all, he wouldn’t be able to afford a train journey anyway. He had no money.
Kyle’s thoughts trailed off as he looked back out the windscreen. Billy Bob’s line of vision into the interior was blocked by the open bonnet, in which he was up to his elbows. From the sounds of it, the guy would be there some time. Quickly, before he had finished, Kyle reached out and opened the glove compartment.
Bingo.
He grabbed Billy Bob’s wallet and relieved it of all the money, notes and change included. Twenty-three dollars and seventy-six cents, all told. Not much, but more than Kyle had held for some time. He dithered for a moment on whether to take the credit cards, but figured they would only be maxed out anyway, and returned the wallet.
Pocketing the money, and not feeling one shred of remorse or conscience, Kyle adopted his earlier pose. It may not be enough for a fare to Vegas, but at least it’d get him a packet of cigs.
Movement outside the truck caught his eye. Kyle strained his eyes in the night to pierce the shadows, but couldn’t see anything. Just a trick of the light…
There, another. Closer this time.
Kyle had seen movement like that before. A ghost of a smile crept onto his face as he opened the passenger door. The traffic lights ahead of them flicked over to amber. Billy Bob, too involved in his ‘repairs’ and his cursing, didn’t notice as Kyle took a few steps away from the truck towards the side of the street, his hand slowly pulling out a stake.
The light flicked over to red.
A vampire burst from the shadows, slamming into Kyle and knocking him to the ground. He scrabbled to his feet a few seconds after the vampire did the same; short, covered in tats and scars, with his hair in a messy-punk style and game-face on. The second or so’s head start was enough for the punker to get in a few punches that had Kyle off-balance and swearing. His stake was gone, lost as he fell to the street.
No, it was the flick knife that he had pulled out by mistake. The stake was still in his pocket. But the vampire’s merciless attack kept him occupied and too busy to reach it.
A spinning kick knocked him to the ground. Kyle hit the tarmac hard flat on his face. Something dug into his chest, and when he moved his hand down to investigate, his fingers closed around the knife. Flicking the blade out, he rolled and hurled it at the punk. The blade cut deeply into he vampire’s shoulder and he cried out, taking a step backwards and pulling the knife out, then turned back to where Kyle was lying.
“Ouch, dude, that really sucked-"
His face met a fist. More accurately, Kyle’s fist, attacked to his arm, and his now standing body. Snarling and seeing starts, the vampire reeled under Kyle’s follow-up blows. An undercut to the gut, then a backhand, and a left hook knocked the vampire against the side of the truck. Kyle grabbed him by the head and smashed him through the passenger window. The glass shattered, cutting the punk in a number of places. Leaving the vampire with his head still inside the truck, Kyle finally took out the stake and dusted him.
At the last second, he caught site of a packet of cigarettes in the vampire’s pocket. “Thanks, dude,” he said, grabbing them before they, like the rest of the punk, crumbled to dust.
Taking out a zippo lighter, Kyle put a cigarette in between his lips and lit it. Marlbro Red. Not bad. The nicotine that flooded into him replaced the rapidly departing adrenaline high, but still the small, odd smile that had been on his face since the start of the fight faded. The unbelievable boredom he had been suffering had washed away in an instant, replaced by the sheer rush of fighting a vampire. He retrieved his knife, then took a walk round to the front of the truck.
Billy Bob lay sprawled spread-eagled on the engine, legs dangling limply down the front of the truck onto the road, the side of his face already blistering under the heat. His eyes were empty and glazed, and twin punctures marked his neck. There was no sign of the vampire that had killed him. Kyle pulled him off the truck and checked his pockets. Another ten bucks.
Kyle left Billy Bob dumped on the floor and returned to the interior of the truck, grabbing his worn duffel bag from within through the smashed window, and setting off into the night.
To hell with Vegas. He was liking LA already.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
*** 11:20am 6th March, 2007 ***
San Gabriel Valley Municipal District Courthouse
"It is the finding of this court that there is insufficient evidence to justify holding the defendant any longer. Mr. DeAngelo, you are free to go. Please note that the case is still open and that the police still consider you a suspect in the murder of over one hundred people in the Lilies-of-the-Field United Baptist Church on Christmas Eve last year."
It was clear from the judge's inflection that he also considered Oz to be the murderer. James Anderson was there in the gallery as were members of the families that had not attended the mass that night. Oz did not look at them. He stared straight ahead as he walked past them towards the exit.
He could hear them whispering to him.
"Gonna kill you myself muthah--"
"My baby was there you murderer--"
"You are going to fry--"
Oz felt their pain because he had lost his only son again that night. These people all were feeling the bright new pain of the death of a loved one, but Oz's wounds had been reopened after letting them heal for thirty three years. They burned even brighter now.
Outside on the steps of the courthouse his lawyer grabbed his arm and jerked him back from the rush of reporters that stampeded towards him. Oz's lawyer said the things that all lawyers say, but to Oz it sounded as if he were underwater. A microphone punched through the fog and a question cut through, "Why did they have to die, Mr. DeAngelo?"
Oz focused on the voice and looked him in the eye, "They didn't. They wouldn't have died if I had not been there."
Oz's lawyer was quick to amend his statement with damage control, "My client means that it was unfortunate that he was present when the congregation was suddenly and inexplicably killed in a freakish but tragic accident. He is sorry that he alone survived the ordeal."
His shocked expression soon gave way to the repetition of "No Comment" as Oz was dragged to a waiting car. Once inside, the lawyer turned to Oz, "Are you crazy? No I suppose you aren't." *Unfortunately.* "You could have damaged your case severely. I took this case pro-bono because I wanted to know what killed all those people as much as the next guy, but you cannot keep saying that you didn't kill them but that they were fated to die. It's dangerous."
Oz looked at the young lawyer again. He had been speaking, but Oz's thoughts were cycling over and over as they had been for months. *I am not hero. I am not a Champion. I am not a human. I am not an Angel. I am nobody. If I had not been there, none of those people would be dead.*
Hours later Oz's thoughts were still racing around and around the same track. He was staring at the phone on the attorney's desk. He was trying to remember a phone number he had only used once a long time ago. He picked up the receiver and dialed and after a few rings he heard a familiar voice.
"Kolya, I need a favor."
A quick recap of the events of the day and Nikolai agreed to give him a ride and a place to stay. In the months of his imprisonment his rent had gotten overdue and he had been evicted. Nikolai agreed to let him stay for a few days until he found somewhere to move to.
Oz stood on the corner and waited alone until a Monte Carlo pulled up to the curb. He opened the door and peered inside, "Thanks for helping me out Kolya. I didn't know where else to turn."
Nikolai nodded, unsure of how much more of this he could take. After all of Kate's grief, to get Oz's on top of that hitting him... he pushed the feelings aside. "It's not a problem," Nikolai said, starting off, deliberately heading in the opposite direction he wanted to go. From the crowd outside, it was obvious that someone wanted to do something, lack of evidence or not. *Time to make sure we don't have anyone following.* "So, what happened to you? I know there has to be something you couldn't tell me over the phone."
*I want to tell you how miserable I feel and not get someone accusing me of being a murderer,* Oz thought. Sympathy had been in short supply among the myriad of counsellors and inmates he had tried to unburden himself on. He wasn't sure if he really wasn't sure he wanted to dump on Nikolai either. He just wanted a reason to keep going. And that was in as short supply as sympathy.
"No, Kolya, nothing to tell really. Big mystical battle, the good guys won, but not fast enough."
Nikolai shook his head slowly. He should have known with Oz that it would be something like that. The two were silent for a few minutes while he looked in the rear-view mirror, before making a very fast and highly illegal u-turn. "We were being followed," he explained at Oz's shocked expression. "Doing a rather poor job at it as well."
Oz checked out the back of the car, "That would be the press. I suppose they can't turn as quickly as this car. I didn't know that Monte Carlos handled so well. I may have to look into getting one myself." Oz tried a miserable attempt at a smile.
Oz settled back into his seat. He had not fastened his seatbelt and it was almost as if the car had held him around that turn. He patted the seat, testing its padding. He sat silently for a while and then quietly asked, "Kolya, how can someone live with the blood of a hundred people on their hands? Those people didn't have to die that night. They wouldn't have died if I hadn't been there. One man would have died in their place. Only one. Do the ends justify the means?"
"Time was I would have said that it depends on who the hundred people were," Nikolai said, relaxing some. He knew that the car would drive itself pretty much and all he needed to do was to give direction. That Oz was feeling guilty, responsible for deaths was obvious. "Could you have known about what would happen in advance? That if you did do something everyone would die?"
Oz thought about that. He had been thinking it all along. *Did I know?* he asked himself silently. "I am not a hero, Nikolai. I am just a man; a man who wasn't born as most other men, who lives a lot longer than other men, but still just a man. I lied to myself that I was something special. Hubris was my sin that night, not ignorance."
Nikolai wasn’t sure whether he should be laughing at or crying for Oz. There the former angel sat, berating himself over pride as a sin. There were far worse paths he could have chosen, the former killer knew. “I’m not much of a hero either,” he assured Oz. “But I’ve changed and know that you did the right thing. What you need to decide, however, is whether or not you’re going to learn from your mistakes. It was a colossal fuck-up, to be sure, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. Shrugging your shoulders and pretending nothing happened would.” *Spoken like a true philosopher.*
Oz looked at Nikolai. *Changed? How?* he wondered. It was true that Nikolai seemed a little calmer and more centered than he had when they had last seen each other. But vengeance has a way of making you a caricature of yourself. No, he didn't see much of a change.
He shrugged non-commitally, "I don't know what to do any more, Kolya. It all seems totally pointless. I have lived this mortal existence longer than I wanted to. I never wanted to survive my love for Margaret. Now it is just a bitter reminder of how alien I am to this place. What does it matter if the 'right thing' and 'learning from my mistakes' are just too much trouble? I'd rather just disappear and spare everyone the grief."
"Oh, we're all aliens, in one way or another," Nikolai replied beore giving a little laugh. "Hell, early on I woke up early one day and had to remember if I was a man or a woman." What made the statement so funny was the fact that it was true, to a very large extent.
Only he returned his attention to Oz; there was a potential there for him to be a warrior for good if he could only pull the angel out of his self-pity and martyr complex. Then it occurred to him. "One of my friends, Damen, always used to go see Father O'Malley in church when he was in New York. O'Malley had a rather interesting saying - 'God never gives you more than you can handle, or sends you anywhere you don't need to be.' You're an angel, so... have you talked to the boss?"
"The Boss and I aren't really having dialog like we used to," Oz said slowly. His emphasis on the word 'boss' was sarcastic and bitter. "He misled me, Kolya. I know how the divine Idea works. I was one of the cogs in the Great Machine. I spotted it working the wheels to stop the threat and took that to mean that I was supposed to be there. But I wasn't. What I saw was intended for someone else and my involvement destroyed hundreds of lives. Kolya, if I do that again I might not be able to stop the evil, I might just make it stronger. I can't even trust my faith in the divine."
*Useless. Worthless. Obsolete,* rolled through Oz's mind.
*If you start thinking of us as Talking Monkeys, you can get out right now,* Nikolai thought in only partial amusement. Oz had done more than lost his faith, he suspected. He would have lost his grace. What Oz needed was a chance at redemption. "Are you sure it's just that you aren't listening, rather than Him not talking?" He marched on after Oz's shocked look. "You're an Angel, Oz. You're supposed to be the messenger, aren't you? Maybe that was God's way trying to get your attention to get you back in the game, so to speak."
Oz had to deliberately close his mouth. He stared into Nikolai's eyes and saw that there was something different in him. Some sort of wisdom had cut through the fog and stomped on Oz's bruised ego. Hard. "Maybe," Oz admitted, "I need to think about it some more." *And maybe a little prayer might not hurt, either,* he thought.
Oz jerked his head sideways to look at the LA Freeway traffic that was whizzing past the Monte Carlo that was smoothly weaving in and out of the steady stream of cars.
"Um, Kolya, have you been watching the road?"
He was caught. If there wasn't a dead giveaway that there was more to the car than was readily apparent, this would be it. "After a fashion. This car's special," he joked to deflect the inquiry. "You can stay as long you need. Meditation might help, and while I don't have anything on Christian Kabala yet, I do have a piece or two on Xangyarj techniques if you want to give those a try."
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
March 7th
Noon
When Inés came back to Alessa’s apartment, she found her cousin alone. She walked to the kitchen to see her cooking, the familiarity of the scene easing her fears. It had been the first time she had left Alessa alone for so long and she had only done so because her ‘friend’ had come by. However, the meeting with Victor, the “La Rumba” owner, had lasted longer than she had thought, and she had been worried about Alessa.
“What are you cooking?” she asked, bending over the stove to smell the contents of one of the pans. “This smells good,” she appraised and dipped a finger in the boiling mixture, “Hey!!” she cried when Alessa hit her hand with a wooden spoon.
“It’s almost ready, go set the table,” she said, not paying attention to her cousin’s mockingly hurt expression. “Vamos!”
“Como quieras," Inés answered, starting to collect the dishes and silverware, and hiding her pleasure at Alessa’s new attitude. She hadn’t bothered to eat the last few days, much less cook! It was evident that her friend’s visit had been good for her.
“Did you have good news?”
Alessa thought about what Tash had told her and a shadow went through her eyes, “Not really,” she answered and told Inés about Emma’s death, as she served the steaming feijoada.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Alessa. But at least now we know why they didn’t show up.” She hated to sound callous, but she knew Alessa had been hurt after her friends hadn’t shown up to visit her; her own animosity against Tash was based exactly on that.
“Sí…” Alessa sighed, “I will have to go visit Kate later, but I just can't go to the baby’s funeral, not now, at least.” She closed her eyes, and the spoon in her hand shook.
Inés reached for her hand, and gripped it strongly. “I’m sure your friend will understand. I’ll accompany you when you feel ready to pay your respects.”
“Thank you, ”Alessa nodded, and sighed. She didn’t know when she would feel ready, but she would go to see Kate as soon as she felt stronger, at least. She gave Inés a weak smile and tried to change the topic. “What did your boss want to talk about? Did you get your job back?”
Inés had to swallow before answering.
“This is delicious, Al," she wiped her mouth. "He wanted me to go back, the jerk. A couple of weeks of losing customers and he’s all regretful of firing me!” She laughed and just waved her hand. “I told him I wasn’t interested.”
“You aren’t? I thought you loved to dance.”
“I do. But that rat already showed his true colors, I wouldn’t work for him again for all the gold in the world.” She took another spoonful of beans to her mouth, watching that for all her cooking Alessa had barely touched her own plate. She sighed, well at least she had found the energy to cook. “It’s not as if I couldn’t get another job in a minute. I’ll just wait a little longer to start working again.”
“I’m almost well, Inés, you don’t have to stay home to care for me any longer.” Alessa said, knowing what was keeping the demoness from getting another dancing job. She couldn’t help sounding irritated, she was getting tired of Inés’ overzealous care. Without noticing it, her tone rose. “I will have to go on with my life sooner or later. I don’t need no baby sitter!”
Inés left her spoon on the plate’s side, and breathed deeply. It wasn’t the first time that Alessa had reacted with rising violence, and she had to control herself from answering in kind. These sorts of reactions didn’t fit with the Alessa she had known all her life, but of course the circumstances were such that Inés could understand a little irritability.
“I’m not treating you like a baby, Alessa. You know that.” She tried to sound calm to soothe the anger she saw in her cousin’s eyes. She was surprised to notice that they shone red, too strong a reaction to what had been said. “I’m just waiting for you to feel better until I resume my dancing.”
Alessa glared at Inés, but her cousin’s calm stare quickly made her anger subside. The irate feelings left her as soon as they came, leaving her shaky and regretful.
“I’m sorry, I know.” She looked down at her plate and forced herself to eat another bit. “Did you call James?” she asked, in an effort to move the conversation to safer ground.
“Mmm?” asked Inés, surprised by the sudden change of topic. “Who?”
“James… oh, I mean Connor.” Alessa blushed, noticing she had given James’ cover away, and looked at Inés to see if she had noticed. She sighed when she saw that the demoness had indeed heard her slip and was looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Maldición!” She cursed her idiocy, *I’m sorry James* she thought and explained to Inés the reasons behind James’ change of name. “So you see, nobody has to know Connor and James are one and the same.”
“And he wanted me to call?”
Alessa rolled her eyes, it was just like Inés not to care about the vampire’s ‘doubtful’ deeds.
“Is that all you heard?” she asked, annoyed. “Don’t you care about what I told you?”
Inés gave a merry laugh. “I already know he’s not the common vampire, silly!” she said, “Why do you think I keep seeing him? That man has… something, apart from heavenly hands, of course.”
“Oh yes, indeed. He has fangs and a pale complexion,” joked Alessa, but she wasn’t really surprised with Inés’ words, she knew her cousin was more of a ‘use and discard’ type. It didn’t matter how good a lover was, she usually didn’t see them more than a couple of times. Alessa believed it was the way Inés had to protect herself after what had happened with Raúl. And this thing with James had certainly lasted longer than that.
“So? Did he say anything else?” Inés pressed, and Alessa laughed at the excited look in her eyes.
“Nothing, just that. Seems the man has hit you hard, prima,” she said, and laughed again when she saw her brush prettily.
“Just don’t tell him. We started as fuck buddies and I don’t want him to feel I’m pressing. Unless he shows he’s wanting more, that’s all we are going to be.”
Alessa grimaced at her cousin’s hard words, but could understand her not wanting to expose herself. She knew James had been involved with Adriana, and had even tried to hit on her! She considered telling Inés about that, but decided against it. It wouldn’t change her mind if she were settled on having him.
Then she though of what Chance’s reaction would have been if he’d witnessed the exchange. He’d be furious! Chance just couldn’t stand the vampire! At the memories, Alessa’s expression changed suddenly and Inés knew that the light-hearted moment was over. She watched helplessly as Alessa moved away from the table, and excused herself.
“I’m tired, Inés. I’m going to take a nap,” she said, almost choking with the words, and retired to her bedroom.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
March 8th
4:30 am
Alessa bolts upright in the bed with a gasp. She quickly looks around to gather her surroundings and sees she’s in her room. She runs her hands through her unruly hair and stops mid motion.
"Morris…" she breathes.
She looks at his side of the bed. He’s there, sound asleep.
"Morris," she touches his shoulder. "Morris," she repeats, with a tinge of panic in her voice.
He stirs and opens his eyes to see Alessa watching over him with a worried expression. "Alessa, what..?"
He is cut off when she wraps her arms around him tightly. He sits up and puts his own arms around her protectively. "Hey, it's okay," he rubs her back.
"You're still here," she whispers.
"Of course I'm here Al." Morris tips her head to look into her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere," he sooths softly. "You okay?" he pushes her hair away from her face and kisses her lightly.
"I'm sorry. I just had this nightmare…" she trails off and gets silent again.
"You want to talk about it?" he asks carefully.
She looks down and sighs, "You weren’t here."
"It was just a dream Alessa. See?" He takes her hands and holds them to his chest so she can feel his heat and heartbeat. "I'm still here, it's okay."
"It felt so real," she looks him in the eye.
"Dreams have a way of doing that," he says, and holds her tightly, pushing her back to bed. He traces the outline of her face with his fingertips. “I’ll always be here for you.”
Alessa woke up and sat in her bed, reliving the dream. She sighed and leaned back again. *Another dream.* She wasn’t even surprised, the dreams were more and more frequent, sometimes even getting into her daytime hours. She didn’t reject them, didn’t question them anymore. She just enjoyed the feeling of peace and happiness they brought.
Alessa closed her eyes and embraced the lingering feelings of the dream. Hopefully, she would dream again before the night was over.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
L.A.
Tuesday the 6th March, 2007
22:06
It was the third night in a row, counting now.
Reah’d been plagued by curiosity without rest, ever since Sunday afternoon. She prayed that tonight would be the night she could finally put her mind at ease. But when you were trying to find a creature that didn’t necessarily want to be found… patience was a virtue.
The streets didn’t prove to be much help; most people couldn’t help her with the description she had, and all too many of the demons she’d passed refused to co-operate. She killed them... or at least kicked them really hard. It seemed that either, a: this being didn’t exist and Quin was on drugs. Or b: they didn’t make much human contact, and any demons the "werewolf" did come across, didn’t often survive.
... Both were viable possibilities....
Which eventually pointed her to the shadows.
Switching to her thermographic vision, Reah climbed up a nearby fire escape, scanning the alleys and shadows from above, leaping from roof top to roof top.
That's when it happened, almost by chance.
After over two hours of scouring the shadows, Reah’s ankle suddenly gave way beneath her just as she was readying herself for another flying leap, having her stumble and hop out of the near fall to the recently checked alley below.
Sitting on the building's ledge, Reah was massaging her ankle when she thought she heard something below. Acting on instinct, she quickly swivelled in her seat, peering keenly over the building's edge.
Sure enough, the body heat signature of something was down there - so at the very least, it wasn’t a vampire… again! - And when she switched to her lowlight vision…
Bingo!
A satisfied smile curled at the edge of her lips as she studied the man below. He certainly fit the profile enough - as vague as it was - at least from what she could see from so high up. She’d have to follow him a little longer before she could be sure. She needed some form of confirmation.
Carefully rising to her feet Reah tested her ankle, gradually increasing the amount of body weight before she was sure all was good. When she was satisfied with the recovery, she pinpointed her target again and proceeded to follow, taking all precautions not to be found.
At least for now.
Blackthorn walked casually as he crossed from the alley to the street. His next job for Gray was a simple one, all he had to do was pick up a parcel and bring it back. Luckily, this time everything was prearranged. If all was well the package would be waiting.
The pickup was not far now and Blackthorn's pace quickened, his steps falling quickly and smoothly on the rough pavement. He wanted to get this done quickly so that he could perhaps spend some time looking into whom that kid from the alley was.
Reah deftly kept pace with him, careful to stay downwind. If he in fact was a werewolf, as Quin had claimed, she’d wagered he’d probably be able to pick up her scent and be alerted to her presence, despite how well she managed to remain hidden.
She hoped for something to happen down there, as she stealthily watched from the rooftops. That way she’d definitely be able to confirm he was a werewolf that could change whenever the hell he wanted. *Where are all the vampires?* she half wondered as she sidestepped a rise in the cemented roof. She didn’t much fancy the idea, but if she had to, she’d go down there and personally find out herself!
Blackthorn finally approached the drop; strangely there was no one else here. He thought for a moment that perhaps something was off. But before he could finish his thought he was approached by a rather well dressed man, at least well dressed for this part of town. The man leaned down and placed his briefcase on the ground, and without so much as looking at Blackthorn continued down the street never so much as glancing back.
Blackthorn smiled, he wouldn’t have to do too much work tonight. After picking up the briefcase, which made someone who appeared as he did look rather out of place, he continued on. The streets were not crowded and he could easily make it to Gray’s on foot without wasting too much time so he decided to enjoy the out doors.
Reah frowned at the display before her. He certainly wasn’t the most honest man alive, so that could mean that he was a werewolf… but it could also just mean he wasn't the most honest man alive! In fact, the latter was probably more likely!
With a sigh, Reah concluded she was bored with waiting for something to happen. She’d been waiting for three nights trying to find this guy, and quite honestly, she thought she’d done pretty bang up job of her patience! She deserved a reward of a sort.
Reah then purposely moved upwind of the man, keeping an extremely close eye on his every reaction.
After walking for a few minutes Blackthorn began to feel something strange somewhere near him. He could also feel someone's eyes on him, as though perhaps he was being followed or watched. Blackthorn consciously slowed his gait and started inspecting the buildings and people around him. He began to take note of a weak scent in the air; he couldn’t immediately identify what it was but it was clear to him it wasn’t normal.
Blackthorn began trying to narrow down the whereabouts of whoever was watching him. It was now clear to him that whoever was following knew at least something about tracking as he had not been immediately alerted to their presence. It was strange however that he could now feel them somewhere near him, almost as if they wanted him to know they were there.
Reah smiled, quietly satisfied with herself. He’d definitely noticed her presence now, which definitely pointed to the category of “you’re not your average person”. *At least that's something... Oh, hey! I'm stalking! I'm a stalker, hehe. Bewdy!* she mentally amused herself.
Eyeing the next alleyway, Reah noted the fire escape, similar to just about every other she’d passed. She also noted a few sturdy beams that seemed fixed between the buildings.
Taking one last look at her wary target, Reah dived into the alley, swiftly catching the first bar and somersaulting from beam to beam, air whooshing past her graceful body in a skilful display of acrobatics. The dull ‘pad’ of her soft soled boots sounded as she landed nimbly on the darkened alley ground. She hadn’t made a single sound, and proudly leant up against the building's cold brick wall to wait, her grin smug.
Blackthorn continued walking; he picked up his pace slightly as it was clear whoever was watching him was somewhere ahead of him. He wondered if perhaps this had something to do with the briefcase he now carried; he quietly hoped it wouldn’t cause too much trouble for him. As he approached a shadowed alley he could definitely tell whomever had been watching him was now somewhere within its confines.
Careful to not draw any excess attention to himself he entered the alley's shadowy confines as quickly and quietly as possible. Slipping silently into the alley he began to look about for whom or whatever was stalking him.
“G’day,” Reah greeted behind the shadows of a little nook in the building. He definitely couldn’t be entirely human if he’d managed to pick up on her this well.
A wicked grin split across her face as she decided to go the fun way to find out if this guy was everything Quin had claimed. “That’s a nice looking briefcase you’ve got there.”
“Sure is,” he spoke without even slightly changing his expression. Damn, clearly this pickup was not going to be quite as easy as he hoped. Oh well, a job's a job.
“Don’t suppose I could have myself a little looksy at all, hm?” She was sure she could see him anyway, but she decided to keep her place. Maybe the extra darkened gap made it harder for him to see in contrast with the rest of the alley.
Not that it mattered.
“I don’t think so. Any particular reason you’re following me? Or do you just enjoy long walks in dark alleys?” Blackthorn could tell it was a woman from her voice. This surprised him; it seemed rather unlikely a woman would be working for the kind of people he was dealing with.
For a moment, Reah just stayed silently still in her little hole before she finally made comment. She obviously wasn’t what he was expecting. “There’s nothing wrong with a little night time walking. The air's remotely fresher then. There’s that, and…” Dull light spilled onto her booted foot, retreating quickly up the rest of her body as she stepped out of the shadow and smiled up at the well built ‘man’ before her, “Let's just say I’ve taken a personal interest in you.”
“Any particular reason why? Or am I just so handsome you couldn’t resist?” She didn’t seem as though she was going to attempt anything so Blackthorn relaxed somewhat. However he was careful not to let his guard down. After all it wouldn’t be the first time a beautiful woman was used to lower a man’s defenses.
Reah chuckled after his comment. She still clearly had him a bit on edge - after all, what sane everyday woman purposely confronts a strange man in an alley!
“Aside from that fact,” she grinned, “It’s nothing overly exciting. Just a rumour or two that I’ve heard. You’re not the easiest ‘man’ to track down, are you?” Reah tilted her head to the side, studying his face closely, “Am I right in assuming that? I’m not talking about the tracking part, mind you.”
“Rumours, eh?” Blackthorn haden’t realized he’d even been in the city long enough to draw any interest. “As for your question, I am exactly what I appear to be. Though I’m certainly not your average Joe, however I suspect you’re not exactly average yourself either, now are you?”
Blackthorn was now rather sure this confrontation had nothing to do with the briefcase he carried. “Well, why don’t we just cut to the chase here? You want to know something in particular.”
Reah nodded her head to the ground, smiling to herself before raising her eyes back up to meet his, questioning, “Do you lose control when it takes you? I haven‘t met anyone with your… talents… before.”
“No, I have complete control over all of my abilities. It’s not surprising you haven’t met anyone with my particular talents. My kind very much prefer to remain hidden in the wild.” Blackthorn began to think of how this woman might know of him; his mind went almost immediately to his battle with the vampire in the alley. It was, after all, the only time he had fully changed in his time in L.A. This woman must somehow be connected to the boy and girl.
Reah considered him carefully, eyeing him up and down. If he really was everything he and Quin said he was… he might be of some use! If he was willing of course.
Offering her hand to his, she smiled, “I’d actually like to thank you, for one, Mister…”
Blackthorn reached over and accepted the woman’s hand, not fully knowing what to expect next he simply said, “Indeed.”
Reah raised an eyebrow at that, quietly amused, “Mr. Indeed? That certainly is a new one.” She trained herself not to chuckle or snigger, “Though, I suppose you’re probably more interested in why I’m thanking you and how I’d heard of you… But I think you already know.” She eyed him sideways with a knowing look, then resumed her friendly smile. She had no ill intentions for this guy.
"I do, but the question remains. Why did you choose to track me down? I wouldn't think someone of my nature would require any further investigation unless you had some reason to do so? And you can call me Blackthorn."
Blackthorn finally had an almost firm answer. This did have something to do with the kids, but he still had no clue how the kids and this woman were connected.
“I’m a hunter,” Reah smiled and saw a slight shift in his stance, “But that’s not why I’m here. If I wanted you dead, then you can bet your ass you already would be!” She held up her hand to try and ease the tension that had started to build. It wasn’t much, but it was there. “But again, that’s not why I’m here… I’ve changed considerably since my early days.” She added the last with a wry smile, more of an afterthought than anything else as she subconsciously fingered her knuckles.
“I run a business,” she finally stated in a brightened tone, “And hearing of you! Well… let’s just say that’s it’s not very often that you can find people who can really look after themselves. If you’re interested…”
Blackthorn, rather shocked at the woman’s frankness, paused before his reply. “Possibly. I already have a ‘job’, but there’s twenty four hours in a day, maybe we can work something out.”
“I hope so,” Reah smiled confidently. “Though I suppose it should help to mention that I work in arms and will be dealing with both human and demon clientele. That wouldn’t be a problem would it?”
"Not any more than they choose to make it," he said with a grin.
Reah couldn't help but grin back: he had a nice smile. “She's apples.” So far, she liked his attitude as she quietly mused on his remark before continuing. She had to get moving. “Well, I don’t want to hold you and your briefcase up any longer… I still can’t see what’s inside it?”
At the shake of his head, she smiled and continued, reaching into her coat to pull out a pen and paper, leaning against the wall to quickly scribble down a number on the rough surface, then handed it over to him. “Here’s my number. Just give us a call when you’ve got a spare, and I’ll show you the ropes.”
Reah inclined her head in a slight nod before turning away and heading for the alley’s mouth. “Oh! By the way,” she paused, turning to look back over her shoulder, “Thanks! For saving my cousin the other night. That girl has a bad habit for late night walks.” She turned away again, continuing on her way as she added one last thought, “I have no idea where she gets it from!”
Emma's Funeral
Wednesday, 7 March 2007 – 4:12pm
Sunnyview Cemetery
The afternoon sun was low in the sky as the mourners gathered in the small cemetery. Several large oak trees surrounded them, the lazy wind rustling their budding leaves every so often, making their branches dip and bow in time to its lulling rhythms. Between the trees, beyond the tombstones and across the rolling green hills lay the city of Los Angeles – noisy and abrasive, a thick layer of smog skimming the horizon just above the line of skyscrapers.
The grave of Emma Eldridge was far smaller than anyone had expected. The headstone seemed to reflect that, being small and unobtrusive. It seemed almost lost among the other plots, some of which towered like miniature monuments to the dead, rising out of the earth, dark and foreboding, like holy monoliths. In contrast, Emma’s headstone shone dully in the pale light, like a sleeping child beneath the trees, a tablet of cold white marble. Upon the smooth, flawless surface light grey letters curled modestly, inscribed a loving message to the dead.
Emma Grace Eldridge 25 May, 2006 - 2 March, 2007
Beloved Daughter to Catherine and Galen
“Come away, O human child to the waters and the wild. With a faery, hand in hand.
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.” (1)
Nikolai stepped out of his car wearing shades and an all black outfit; even his socks were black. Grief and sympathy were the dominant moods of the day, he decided, pulling his coat about him as the cold wind whipped around him. For some reason the day seemed colder than most. He wouldn’t be missed if he just got in the car and left; Kate would probably understand… *No. You came here to support your friend and you’re going to do it,* he thought as he forced himself to follow the steady stream of people who were making their way through the cemetery towards the relevant plot.
Kate stood by the graveside and tried not to look down into that dark, endless void. A voice in her head said it was a mistake, the best way to lay the dead to rest was to allow their body to be consumed back into the earth in the fastest way possible. By fire. But Kate hadn’t the strength to see her daughter’s remains burn. Only now, beside the tiny coffin, adorned with pink roses and the other floral tributes that people had brought, she felt a failure and a traitor to her beliefs.
She faltered, her legs feeling weak as though they might give way any moment. She hadn’t eaten that day. Food only stayed dry in her mouth like sawdust and she couldn’t stomach anything anyway. But that didn’t help the way she felt; fragile, insubstantial, child-like… lost… She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt a strong hand reach out and take hers firmly.
Jack smiled supportively at his daughter, giving her hand another gentle squeeze, the soft leather of his glove holding on to her cold, bare fingers tightly. He wouldn’t let her fall.
Galen glanced down at Jack’s hand, holding on to his wife’s so diligently while his own hands tightened into a fist behind his back. He thought back to the ‘talk’ they’d had, when Jack had all but threatened him… Galen’s eyes narrowed, becoming colder and more impassive as they waited for everyone to arrive and the service to begin. He had already seen Tash, she had been at their house that morning helping with the preparations. As they waited he noticed Nikolai arrive on his own followed by some of the other White Hats such as Darian, Cole, Reah and her cousin Quin. Lastly he saw Daye and Drew arrive, Sam carrying Maia in his arms, looking uncertain and anxious at the same time. Silently Galen turned away, focusing on the elderly man who stood behind the coffin, his long ceremonial robes fluttering gently in the breeze.
Daye approached the rows of chairs set up around the gravesite, holding tightly to Drew’s hand. She saw Kate standing, clutching her father’s hand and Daye’s eyes narrowed when she saw that Galen was still holding himself off from the both of them.
*Eldridge, you ass,* she thought, anger beginning to simmer within her. *Someone ought to knock you upside your fat head.*
Without realising she was doing it, Daye had started to squeeze Drew’s hand tightly as she struggled to control herself. Now was not the best time to point out to Galen what was so wrong with his behaviour.
“Baby, are you all right?” Drew leaned over to whisper in her ear.
Daye glanced up at him, and then down at their joined hands and grimaced. “Yes, sorry,” she replied, loosening her hold. The anger was out of proportion to the situation and she knew it. It was like the other feelings she’d been experiencing the last few days, inappropriate and unexplainable.
*Keep it together Amanda,* she schooled her expression to hide the fury, although it was still burning within her. Arriving at the assembled chairs, she settled between Drew and Sam and focused on the old man who was just now taking his place beside the coffin. With a marked effort, she tried to focus on his solemn words.
The High Priest was an old friend of Kate’s whom she’d met at the Solstice last year. Timothy Wyvern, a gentle looking old man in his late fifties. His dark brown eyes had a downcast turn to them, as did the majority of his facial features, softened by a crop of billowy grey hair that surrounded his face. Timothy’s eyes observed the gathering crowds, talking in hushed voices, most not talking at all, some laying flowers by the grave, while others passed by the grieving couple, laying a comforting hand on their shoulders before taking a seat. A few demons had also come to pay their respects, their other-worldly appearances disguised beneath large hooded cloaks or high collared trench coats and hats.
When all were assembled he began, holding his hands together firmly as he addressed the small crowd.
“It is always difficult to know the right words to say on a day like today. To lose anyone that we are close to is a tragedy, but when that someone is a child, someone who has not even begun to experience life… that can be an especially difficult loss to bear. I know that for Kate and Galen this past week has been one filled with darkness and heartache and it is for them that we are gathered here today, to offer our condolences, our support and to let them know that there is hope beyond the suffering intolerability of their grief.”
Kate felt Jack’s hand tighten around hers more firmly and she looked up at him, smiling weakly as Timothy’s words washed over her. Glancing up at Galen she noticed him staring into the distance, his eyes unfocused and removed. She wanted so much for him to turn, for them to share a glance, for him to reach out and take the hand that Jack held, to warm her cold hands in his, wrap an arm around her… anything. Realising that he wasn’t about to do any of those things Kate looked away, holding back further tears as the requiem continued.
“For though we have lost one who is dear to us, and we all feel that loss deeply, it is only for a time, and in time we will, in turn, learn to loosen our grip on that sorrow.” Timothy smiled kindly at his old friend and her husband for a beat before continuing.
“For there is a reason for being here and also a reason for crossing the Great Divide. And in time we must all journey beyond to pause, to rest, and to wait for those who are loved in a place far from the cares of this world, with happiness and strength renewed. For dying is only a way of forgetting, a mode of rest, of returning to the Eternal Source. As it is said in ancient lore – ‘Life and Death are one and we the children of the Goddess know that there is naught to fear in thine embrace which none escape. That when we step into thy darkness, as all must, it is but to step again into the light.’”
Tears and the occasional sob sounded in the crowd as the High Priest spoke, Nikolai feeling those who knew Emma letting go. He was seated next to someone from Sindell, an old friend of Kate’s whose empathy was of the less literal form. At some point he realised that he could no longer pick out specific emotions, they were all too strong, too overwhelming when mixed with his own. Nikolai slumped forward when he felt something wet on his cheek, trying to avoid breaking down uncontrollably. An arm came around his back in sympathy as he let his tears flow; it was just too much, the fates far too cruel.
Timothy paused again, taking the time to register the congruity of the faces that stared back at him from across the grave. “Therefore today we stand before thee in love and without fear and commend to thee Emma,” he gestured towards the tiny coffin, “Our Sister. Take her, guard her, guide her and admit her to the lands of Eternal Peace that stand between this life and the next. And know, as thou knowest all things, that our love goes with her.”
Galen’s eyes flickered briefly with conscious acknowledgement as the old man spoke. It took every last ounce of his strength to stay rooted to the spot, to remain silent when every fibre of his body was screaming in opposition to this charade. He didn’t believe in any of this! He didn’t believe that life and death were part of the same self-renewing cycle like he knew Kate did, he didn’t believe that the spirit of his dead daughter would live on past the grave. To him, death was the ultimate end and the ‘spirit’, the ‘soul’ – was there even any proof to show such a thing existed? He might have believed at one time but now… how could he believe in any kind of Divine Being that would see fit to let a child die in the way that Emma had?
Daye felt an intense grief as she listened to the man’s words, but underlying that sadness was still the raging anger she’d experienced as she looked at Galen, only now the thoughts she had were of a different kind. She could almost understand Galen’s anger. Emma had been robbed of the life she was entitled to by a cruel and capricious fate. If the same were to happen to Maia, Daye would not be wholly sad, she would be angry. She would want to strike back, to punish someone, and perhaps that was what Galen was feeling too. Daye could empathise even more with the man than she had before.
*Poor man,* she thought, turning her head to gaze at him, standing there so stiffly. *How hard is this for you? The very sight of your wife only reminds you of your loss. I have to find some way to help you… to let you know someone does understand.*
Turning back to the service as it went on, a part of Daye’s mind pondered just what she might be able to do.
“At this moment,” Timothy said softly, “Kate has expressed a desire to read a short poem.” He held his arm out to the grieving woman, taking her hand in his as she took his place by Emma’s grave. Galen watched her silently with a look of complete surprise on his face. He hadn’t known she was going to speak though the knowledge of that only seemed to deepen the feelings of bitterness that he seemed to harbour against his wife.
Jack’s eyes observed Galen with cool austerity as he sensed the man’s feelings of loathing directed towards his daughter though he too remained silent. There would be a time and place for such a confrontation though that was certainly not now or here.
Kate could barely hold her head high enough to address the group as she withdrew a folded piece of paper from her small clutch purse and opened it out. “F-first I want to thank everyone for coming today, I know that s-some of you…” her voice faltered a little and she had to take a moment to steady her breathing before continuing.
“Some of you have travelled very far to be here,” her eyes fell on a several of her witch friends who had come all the way from England on hearing the news. “Thank-you,” she said steadily, “and to everyone else, thank-you for being here. Just knowing that-” She stopped suddenly as her eyes noticed the barely restrained annoyance of her husband. She looked down quickly, her vision blurring a little and she sniffled, wiping her eyes clear before a deep anxious sigh escaped her lips. *Dear Goddess give me strength…*
“I… can’t express how I’ve felt over these past few days. At times I’ve felt an all consuming darkness pulling me down, my faith in what is right and wrong, in what is just, has been shaken irrevocably. I don’t know if things will ever be the same as they were before… but today…” Kate sighed again, closing her eyes briefly as she gathered all her strength to carry on, “…today is about saying goodbye and that’s why I wish to read this poem now.”
Kate smoothed out the crumpled paper a final time before beginning to read.
“My little one, sleep softly Among the trees and flowers.
Sleep softly, dear beloved,
Through all the long dark hours.
And if you waken far away
I shall be wandering too.
If far away you run and play
My heart will follow you.
Sleep softly, O sweet child of mine,
And smile down in your sleep.
Here are red rosebuds for your bed
Smile and I will not weep.
Sleep softly, dearest, softly —
They cannot part us now,
Forever rest upon my breast,
My kiss upon your brow.
And when the sun shines on my face
(2)Or the wind blows through my hair
I’ll smile and cry and think of you
I’ll know you’re always there.”
As the last words departed her lips Kate felt her strength suddenly leave her. She laid the poem out on the coffin, placing a single pink rose over the top. Jack’s expression softened in the face of his daughter’s unendurable sadness, he moved over to where she stood and wrapped an arm about her and led her back to her former place.
Galen felt his own emotions rush through him like a river bursting its banks. Cold shivers travelled over his skin and in that moment he would have done anything to turn to Kate and comfort her, and be comforted in return. But the same barriers that had stopped him making any such move in the past week still remained. He glanced at his wife as Jack helped wipe a few stray tears from her cheeks. Galen felt a pang of sympathy in his heart and hesitated momentarily, torn between a sudden, desperate urge to hold her, to reach out and take Jack’s place, wipe away her tears with his own fingers and hold her trembling body against his own.
Then the moment was gone, the crowd seemed to settle and Timothy, after resuming his post, continued.
“Life and death are one, as the rivers and the seas are one. For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt in the sun? What is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides that it may rise, expand and seek its Gods unencumbered? Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountaintop, only then shall you begin to climb. And when the Earth has claimed your limbs, then shall you truly dance.”
Timothy reached out and picked up a small earthenware bowl shrouded in cloth and tied with a silver cord before laying it on the floor just in front of his feet. “If ever the silver cord be loosed, or the bowl be broken then shall the dust return to the earth as it was; and the spirit shall return to the Goddess who gave it.” He knelt then, momentarily and broke the bowl, wrapping up the pieces in the fabric and holding them carefully.
“To be reborn you must die and be made ready for a new body. And to die, you must be born; and without love, you may not be born. And our Goddess ever inclineth to love, and mirth, and happiness; she guardeth and cherish her hidden children in life, and in death she teacheth the way to her communion. And it is with this communion, we lovingly place our sister in the hands of the Goddess.”
“So mote it be,” sounded the crowd in unison, their voices low and morose.
A couple of people stepped forwards then, helping to lower the coffin down into the grave.
“Return to the elements from which thou camest,” declared Timothy with an air of finality as the vessel was laid into the earth. “That which came from the earth has returned to the earth, that which belonged to the spirit has returned to the Ancient Ones. That which belongs to fellowship and love – that which belongs to the circle – remains with us.”
He offered a bowl of earth to Kate and Galen, allowing them to sprinkle a handful into the grave first of all. “Let us meet, and know, and remember, and love again,” he spoke softly, as the sound of earth raining down on solid oak seemed to cut through the air.
Kate held the cold dirt in her hand for a while, Galen had already moved on and waited impatiently on the other side as though desperate to leave. Slowly she raised her hand and let the crumbly soil slip through her fingers. “Goodnight Angel,” she whispered quietly, “Sleep well.”
****
As the ritual ended and the small crowd began to disperse, Nikolai took several minutes to steady himself before even trying to move. The outpouring of grief and sympathy did as it always did during funerals, which is to say it got worse as one decided to 'let out' bottled-up emotions.
Sharing in a friend's grief was never something he'd expected to do literally, but there he was, and worse, with Alicia watching the store for Daye. He could have really used her support about now, he thought, when he tried to make his way towards Kate, Galen and Jack at last. He just felt like there was something that he should be doing, something more to help and... *Oh dear,* he thought when he got closer.
Kate was as he had expected, full of her grief. Galen had his as well and was putting out all of the outward signs of the sympathetic husband. Nikolai was not fooled for one moment. There was enough tension between the three of them that would probably only take the least amount of pressure to shatter it.
"Hello," Nikolai said, when he got over to them, keeping his eyes shut for a moment longer than normal when he blinked. "I just wanted to offer my condolences again. I know you've probably heard it enough to make you sick, but... if there's anything at all I can do to help you..."
Kate smiled slightly at Nikolai as he approached, wiping the dampness from her eyes with a small handkerchief. “Thank-you,” she said softly, her voice sounding distant and weak, “Thank you for coming, I’m glad you could make it.”
Nikolai tried to steady his breathing, and resisted the urge to shoot Galen a killer look. The man might be fooling everyone else but he was not fooling the local empath, but Nikolai was not about to make a scene. It was not the proper time. At least Kate's feelings had improved some from last time though that really was not saying much. "It was no problem, I'm glad that I could be here as well."
Kate heard Nikolai’s words but all the while her eyes were on her husband as he left her side and began steadily walking back through the cemetery, catching up to a few of his work colleagues who had attended. She felt an aching sigh rise up in her chest and released it slowly, tremblingly. Jack gave her hand a gentle squeeze before relinquishing it and moving to catch up to his errant son-in-law. Kate just hoped he didn’t make a scene.
It was a few seconds later that she realised that Nikolai was still standing before her. The graveside was deserted now except for Timothy Wyvern who stood a little further away talking to the gravediggers. Kate shuddered slightly, looking down at her baby’s coffin deep in that dark hole. Though the sun was out it suddenly felt very cold and she couldn’t help shivering a little.
Nikolai shook his head at Galen; his place was by her side during this, not going to hang out with the people from work. He moved closer to Kate to stand beside her, looking down at the coffin and annoyed that he had been the one to spend that day helping out with making arrangements. *Congratulations, Galen. You're acting like Damen,* he thought.
"I can still offer you vacuous platitudes," Nikolai offered in an attempt to distract Kate from her grief. He sighed, since that didn't seem to work. She tossed a single glance in Galen's direction before returning her sight to the coffin. "I may be out of line, but I couldn't help but notice that Galen seems a bit more... distant... than normal."
Kate turned finally to face Nikolai, her face pale and harrowed from the heaviness of the day’s events, and there was still more to come; there would be awkwardness and unease at the wake that followed, how could anyone celebrate a life that had not even begun? Kate sighed wearily, hugging her arms around herself for both warmth and comfort.
“He’s coping with things the best way he knows how,” she said reluctantly, knowing that despite what she said Nikolai would know how she felt. Her words were true nonetheless. She might not agree with the way he was doing it but Galen was grieving, even if at the same time he was pushing her away. Still knowing that didn’t make her feel any better and Kate felt a hollow loneliness threaten to swallow her at any moment.
Losing her baby, her darling, beautiful Emma – that made life not worth living, made her so low sometimes she could barely wake in the morning. But the sense that she was losing her husband too, that every day, little by little he was removing himself from her, pushing her further from his heart… Kate couldn’t stand it. She wanted to die, anything to just end the ceaseless pain inside.
"Don't worry, Kate, he'll come around," Nikolai assured her instinctively. He hoped that it would help her. Then the next thing he knew she was sobbing softly, shivering with the grief. He tossed a quick glance around before removing his coat, letting it hang over her shoulders. To all appearances, it would look like she was cold and he was being a gentleman... he hoped.
A fresh amount of her grief hit him when he touched her, just barely allowing him to remain standing upright. For a few minutes they waited there while she regained her composure. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Katya," he reassured her gently.
Kate sniffled a little, drying her eyes again with the handkerchief. “I just don’t want anyone to see me like this,” she explained quietly between stifled sobs, patting her cheeks dry and hoping that her face didn’t look too red and blotchy. She looked up at Nikolai and smiled weakly, pulling his thick coat around her shoulders more comfortably and slipping her arms inside. “Thank you,” she said gently, “for the coat.”
"You're welcome. You looked like you could use it." Trust Kate to be the one to want to put on the brave face, no matter what. She didn't want to be weak, couldn't see how after everything else this could be the end of the world. Still he knew better than to try to force her to do anything. Kate wouldn't heal until she was ready to. "A little flush in the cheeks, but you can explain that away as the cold."
Kate nodded and smiled, a little more determinedly this time as she brushed back her hair from her face. “So I’m presentable, good enough to face them?”
Nikolai nodded. "It will be our little secret."
“Thanks again,” said Kate warmly, her eyes beaming with overwhelming gratitude. Slowly she leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek, “Thank you for everything.”
"You're welcome," he said, feeling slightly puzzled by the sudden move. Galen really needed a good talking to, he decided, when a group of Kate's friends started to gather. People he hadn't seen before, but guessed that a few of them were from Sindell. "If you will pardon me," he said, smiling.
Kate nodded once and watched as he started to leave. "Wait," she called out. "Your coat!"
Nikolai stopped and paused for a moment. "You hold on to it for now, I can always pick it up later. Besides," he added jokingly. "In Moscow, this is a warm summer day."
Kate smiled and watched Nikolai as he followed the rest of the small crowd towards where the cars were waiting.
“Hi Kate,” said an oldish woman, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder, “Was that your husband? Galen isn’t it?”
Kate turned to face the woman; her name was Julianne and one of Kate’s oldest friends who had flown all the way from England upon hearing the terrible news. She shook her head at her question, pulling the thick wool of the coat more tightly around her body. “No, no, that was Nikolai, he’s just a friend.”
****
Daye stood back from the throng of people around Kate and Galen. She had divided her time during the service between cradling Maia and keeping a close eye on Detective Eldridge. After their "talk" the other day at his house, she wasn't sure how he was going to handle this. Daye just knew she would do whatever it took to keep things from falling apart.
Any more than they already had.
Daye also had to fight down the strange impulses and fleeting thoughts that kept parading across her mind. They were certainly unwanted and definitely inappropriate at such a time.
*Keep your weirdly overactive hormones in check,* Daye scolded herself, as she watched the crowd. She was struck by how many really attractive men there were in this strange family of theirs. She was embarrassed by the number of times her wayward thoughts had her thinking about them in a less than familial way over the last few days. There was something funky going on with her, but she couldn't quite put a finger on it. She just tried to tamp it down and hoped it went away.
"Mama," Maia's voice intruded on her inner battle, and Daye looked down at the little girl as she tugged on her skirt. Sam had been walking around with her, hoping to keep her quiet. It hadn't really been necessary though, as Maia seemed somehow instinctively to understand the solemnity of the occasion. She had spent the entire service watching everyone around them with a sombre, curious expression. Now that it was over, she purposefully demanded Daye's attention.
"Hi, little one," Daye bent down and scooped the dark haired girl up into her arms. Maia was still very quiet, as she cuddled close to Daye. She absently swirled one finger in her black curls and studied the people around them with sad eyes.
"Momma?" Maia was looking at the hole where the box containing Emma's remains had just been lowered.
"Yes, sweetie?" Daye spoke softly.
"Emma go bye bye?"
"Oh," Daye sighed, tears threatening once again. "Sweetie, yes, Emma go bye bye."
Maia stared at the hole a minute longer. "No Emma," she said decisively, turning back to her mother. "Emma no box. Emma bye bye."
Daye nodded, cradling her precious little girl. She thought she understood what Maia meant. Somehow the child understood that the body in that box was not really her friend. Maia seemed to just know that Emma was already gone.
Daye rocked slowly, and Maia endured her mother's embrace, even though at nearly a year and a half, she rarely was willing to just be cuddled anymore.
Maia knew that Mama was sad, that An' K was sad, and that all the people here were sad. She didn't really know why, but she was sort of sad too.
Nikolai desperately wanted aspirin after his conversation with Kate. It wasn't anything that had been said so much as the mix of emotions. If he thought it would help his friend in any way he would drag Galen aside and give him a good talking to.
Still he wished that he had asked Alicia to come with him to talk to them, he could have used the support. Instead he only wound up inflicting more pain on himself than he really needed to while trying to support a good friend.
Trying to move his way through the crowd, he stopped abruptly before running into another little girl, almost immediately reminded of Emma. *Oh yes, that's right, let's bring a young girl to a funeral.*
Looking up, he saw the woman that he'd met so long ago. "My apologies," he got out. "I should really watch where I'm going. It’s Amanda, isn't it?"
Daye smiled weakly at Nikolai as she reached down to take Maia's hand. The toddler, never shy, stared boldly up at the man.
"Yes, Nikolai," Daye replied, bending to pick Maia back up. "I'm surprised to see you here. Alicia offered to mind the shop for me, so I didn't think... Do you know Kate, or did Tash maybe contact you along with all the other White Hats?"
"Both. Tasha called me, and I went to visit Katya..." he sighed. That had not been a nice day to be there, but now maybe Kate could start to heal. Still there was no way that he was going to discuss what he thought was part of the problem.
This all put him in mind of the news, when he heard that Sabarov had in fact killed Zoë's boy, Ben. The universe seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in being excessively cruel some days. And there was so much grief there!
"I suspect they will need all the support that we can give them."
Daye nodded, but she couldn't keep herself from shooting a dark look at Galen. The man was infuriating and she wanted to take him to task. She knew better than to do so here, though. Besides, being too close to any man but Drew was still not the best idea with the issues she'd begun having over the last few days.
Daye turned back to Nikolai and studied him carefully. Nik was not exactly her type in any way, but still she felt her body kick into overdrive as she stood before him. *Something is definitely wrong with me,* Daye thought as she fought to check the urge to make a lingering perusal of this man she barely knew. *I need to get out more or something.*
Daye tried to smile benignly as her imagination filled with completely inappropriate images of the things she could do with Nikolai. She was frustrated beyond belief by this constant, unacceptable level of arousal.
"So... how have you been?" Daye was appalled at the husky tone of her own voice and prayed that Nikolai didn't notice it. "Aside from the obvious of course."
Despite all of his practice at controlling his abilities, some things were expected and some things weren't. The overwhelming grief he could deal with. So could some of the curiosity at people who didn't recognise each other. All of this was expected. Sexual arousal was emphatically not, making his first impulse one of shock. He didn't know whether it was more at the fact that Amanda was turned on talking to him, or if she was turned on at a funeral.
*Maybe if I don't mention it, I can pretend it's not happening.* "Slightly, um, overwhelmed, at all the emotions. So much grief and sympathy, it's hard to keep everyone straight."
Daye nodded, unconsciously licking her lips. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and shifted slightly, moving closer to Nikolai.
"I understand," she said. "This is all so... unexpected. I wasn't sure, you know, about bringing Maia along, but I thought it might be best. If a nine-month-old baby can be said to have any friends of her own, then Maia would be it for Emma. Still, I worried about it being too hard on Kate."
Daye glanced over to where Kate had finally managed to catch up with her husband, the two of them seemed to talk quietly for a moment before carrying on towards where their car was waiting. "I wouldn't want to make this any harder than it is. She's already got so much to deal with."
"Yes, I know. I'm surprised she's holding up as well as she is," Nikolai admitted, casting a glance in the direction of Daye’s gaze. "I just hope that now she can begin to move on."
He stood there silently for a minute or two, before turning back to Daye, finding her a bit closer than he expected. There was something going on, he could feel her arousal and simultaneous desire to hold back. He needed something else to think of besides the funeral, though. "So, I am curious, what happened with this strange message you sent to Tasha?"
Daye hesitated a moment. She searched her befuddled mind, her hand still on Nikolai's shoulder. She was slowly stroking his arm, without even realizing it, as she spoke. "Message?... oh, right... Alessa. I guess Tash told you all about that at the last meeting, huh?"
Daye continued, still unconsciously touching Nik. "Hum... we rescued her, the day of the meeting actually. She'd been picked up by the Council, can you believe it?"
Daye sidled still closer to Nikolai. "I guess some faction or the other is collecting demons for some reason. I just don't know. There's nothing official in the records that I could find, but... whoever it was, they worked her over pretty bad. I feel..."
Daye paused, realizing suddenly what she'd been doing. Her eyes grew round in astonishment, and she flushed bright red. Maia was still cradled in her other arm, and had apparently dozed off. Daye took an abrupt step back from Nikolai and stared open mouthed at him.
Nikolai hadn't known what to do at the feeling of Amanda standing there, getting closer to him. She was coming onto him, a woman with a child of her own, at a funeral. It seemed a bit morbid, but for the moment at least he became more concerned at the mention of the Council, collecting demons. It was a reminder that those who were not fully human were not always looked upon the same way as others by those who purported to be on the side of good.
He figured that what would work best would be to not even mention the arousal, she had enough embarrassment already without him actually noticing it. "Is she ok?" he asked. *No wonder our people were so wary of the Council when they came to visit.*
*What the hell?* Daye thought, struggling to contain and collect herself. *I don't know what's gotten into me. I just about mounted his leg. At least he has the decency not to mention it. Not like he didn't notice though. Damnit, what were you thinking? And he's an empath too. For the Goddess' sake, get a hold of yourself.*
Daye was silently berating herself and missed Nik's comment entirely. She noticed that he seemed to be waiting for a reply though.
"Uh... sorry, what was your question?" she finally replied.
And as her self-beration continued, Nikolai wished that there were some way to make her feel less at ease. He hadn't taken offence at it after all, just been surprised at everything happening. "Alessa," he said again, keeping his voice steady, "Is she all right after what the Council did to her?"
*Right,* Daye thought. *Alessa. That's a fairly safe subject. I hope.*
"Yeah, I think so," Daye replied. "I haven't really talked to her since we got home. Whoever did what they did to her, they messed her up pretty good, though. She was beaten and abused, and held captive for weeks. I think maybe they did something to her mind too, cause she can't really remember what happened. We finally found her on this island, in Colombia. I know there's a research centre there, but I don't know what they do there. At least not really, although I've got a pretty good idea now."
*But who really cares?* Daye thought. *There are plenty of demons out there who deserve exactly what they get, and if sometimes an undeserving one gets caught in the mix, well, that's just the way things are.*
In another life, Nikolai would have been offering to make a 'hit' or hoping that his services would be asked for. But there was something strange going on, whereas before he'd always felt her as kind and caring she now felt more indifferent.
He almost recoiled in horror at the thought of someone being indifferent to the suffering that someone went through, even though he had been more or less the same way once. Was it a trait that all Watchers held in common, or something else? *No, it can't be the former. Alicia cares for you after all, and she knows you're part demon... in a sense.*
"I hope this isn't the way the Council normally operates," he said, slowly looking away from her in disapproval. "It would be a shame to think our paranoia is justified."
Daye heard the condemnation in his tone. She too often felt that the Council went too far, but now she couldn't seem to muster any indignation.
*What difference does it make?* she wondered hollowly. *It's not my problem. I'm not responsible for the Council.*
"Well, it's not that unusual," Daye said coolly. *Who are you to judge anyway?* she thought. *You don't even know what you are anymore, Nikolai.*
"There are some... no, a lot of Watchers, who don't feel there's anything wrong with the kinds of things that went on at the island. It's not as if demons were people, after all..."
Daye hesitated a moment. "At least, that's what they think."
Nikolai raised an eyebrow. *And just what do you think?* Of course it was only natural for them to not think of demons as people. After all, they weren't human. While it was true that if you pricked a demon he bled, more often than not it was a different colour from human blood. Still the fact that it was only natural, while making it easier to understand, did not make their beliefs right. Perhaps that was why the Xangyarj had allowed in the Watcher to live with them, in the hopes that they could do something to reform the organisation with everything they heard.
"Of course. Because it's not like there are any demons at all out there who don't want to lead humanity to the slaughter house." The sarcasm in his voice was clearly evident. *Calm down, Nikolai. She's not acting like herself. Then do you really know her well enough to know what she's like?*
Daye blinked at the heat in his tone. She considered his question carefully. She didn't agree with the Council's stance on demons... did she? She'd always been so adamant about the rights of Demonkind, but now... she just couldn't seem to be bothered to care. What had changed, and why?
"I've never agreed with the Council on this before," Daye replied, but her voice lacked conviction. "I was there, risking my life, to rescue Alessa just a few days ago, remember?" she added as an afterthought. *You, my friend, need to find an outlet for that aggression. I could think of a few creative ideas.*
Of course she had been, and that of course made it all right that the Council was routinely beating demons on an island 'research' centre. His mind conjured up visions of a Mengele in a tweed suit selecting demons to go to the right or the left. And back under it all was that feeling of sexual tension again. It was enough to make him want to roll his eyes. "Are you sure you're feeling ok?" he asked, finally calling her on it subtly. "You seem a bit... distracted."
Daye flushed again at his words. *Was he right?* she wondered. *Is there something wrong with me? I've always known right and wrong... and my duty... my responsibility... Oh, I've spent my whole life following these rules. It gets so... tiresome.*
"I'm... fine," she said finally, in a clipped tone. "I think... I'm just... This is not really the place to debate ethics, Nikolai."
Daye's tone was positively frosty as she continued. "If you'll excuse me, my daughter is becoming quite a burden, and I really think we should head over to the house. There's a wake going on, you know."
______________________________________________
1) Extract from The Stolen Child, W. B. Yeats (1886)
[/][/]2) Lullaby, Harriet Monroe (Adapted)
The Wake
Wednesday, 7 March 2007 – 5:30pm
The Home of Kate and Galen Eldridge
Kate stood in the back garden and watched the trees swaying back and forth in the gentle afternoon breeze. Some of them had already begun to grow leaves, their bare, grey looking branches dotted with tiny green shoots and buds like popcorn strings on a Christmas tree. She smiled a little at the image she had conjured, pulling the high collar of Nikolai’s coat more warmly against her neck as she turned back towards the house where the after-funeral reception was busy taking place. Even from out here she could see people as they walked past the kitchen window; glum, sullen faces, ruddy in complexion against the brightness of the lamp light.
She’d been purposefully avoiding going back into the house ever since returning from the cemetery. She just knew what it would be like; at least at the funeral there had been the distraction of the ceremony to keep her mind off things, but here it would be all ‘sorry for your loss’ and ‘how are you holding up?’ and ‘if you need anything let me know’. Then there would be the thoughts. She’d been doing well to hold them back for so long, usually she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to pay them much heed. But today… she just knew it would be overwhelming. Even at the graveside she had sensed it, the sorrow, the melancholy, and not just that but the underlying confusion and speculation about her and Galen.
She just couldn’t cope with that now, in fact she couldn’t cope with it at all. Galen was so detached, so removed and she didn’t know why! She just felt… it was hard to even admit it to herself but she just felt like he hated her. Every time they were in a room together she could feel it, strong and constant. Of course it was mixed in there with a whole heap of other emotions, sadness mostly, despair… and love. Yes, she could feel his love for her still there, that’s what made his behaviour towards her all the more confusing.
Kate hung her head sadly, her knees feeling weak at the prospect of returning to the house, of feeling Galen’s unbridled hatred. Slowly she slid down to the ground, sitting on the grass, her legs tucked beneath her. She felt a painful sob tug at her heart, fighting its way to the surface and she reached into Nikolai’s pocket for the handkerchief she had used earlier to stem the flow of tears at the graveside.
Daye stood in the middle of the crowded kitchen, watching people move around her, some eating, some talking in subdued tones, some simply standing as she was, drinking it all in. There was such immense, abiding sadness in this house now and Daye felt it all around, smothering, suffocating. She held Maia cradled in her arms. The girl was awake, but quiet, watching as her mother did. Daye suddenly felt penned in, and without a word to anyone she headed out the kitchen door towards the backyard and a measure of solitude.
Daye stepped out into the pale afternoon light and took a deep breath, trying to free herself of the oppressive sorrow all around. *This is too hard,* she thought to herself. *Why am I even here? Why do I take on other people's problems? Don't I have enough of my own to deal with?*
Daye felt a bubbling resentment within her, as she shifted Maia to her other hip, and then she heard the quiet sobbing coming from the direction of a huddled shape in the dimly lit garden. Daye stifled a flash of annoyance. She couldn't get away from the depressing aura of this occasion and here was proof of that in the form of Kate, the Queen of Heartache herself.
Grimacing, Daye held herself aloof for a moment. A voice inside her head urged her to just go back inside and pretend she hadn't seen or heard Kate's broken sobs, but she pushed that voice deep down, ashamed of it. Taking a hesitant step forward, Daye bent forward. Before she could speak, Maia's childish voice broke the stillness.
"An' K?" Maia sounded unsure and sad. "Boo boo, An' K?" Maia stretched out her hands, reaching for the crying woman. Daye froze, unsure what to say or do.
Kate’s head snapped up as she heard the familiar, childish inflection that belonged to Maia. She wiped at her damp eyes furiously, feeling suddenly embarrassed and self-conscious. Normally she wouldn’t have, of course. Daye was one of her oldest friends in Los Angeles, and they had been through so much together that she felt like she could confide in her about almost anything. But it was just something in Daye’s manner, skulking in the background, seemingly afraid to make a sound and then a flash of annoyance with her young charge for giving away her presence. It didn’t feel right, but then Kate was beginning to get used to the way people treated her recently, embarrassed by her grief, not knowing what to say and in some cases preferring to just give her a wide berth altogether.
“Daye?” Kate asked warily, drying her eyes properly as she rose to her feet, brushing grass from her dress. Her weak eyes turned to the little girl that she held protectively in her arms and she smiled slightly. “Hi pumpkin,” she forced out, taking the child’s outstretched hand and holding it lightly. “I’m okay, your An’K is just a little sad that’s all.”
Maia grasped Kate's hand and nodded solemnly. "Emma bye bye, An' K," she said solemnly, but then her face transformed into a beatific smile. "Emma k, An' K. Boo boo all gone."
Daye shushed Maia. "Kate... I'm sorry," Daye said softly. "She doesn't... Maybe I should take her inside."
“No, please,” Kate said quickly, smiling sadly, “she’s right, Emma’s pain has ended, she’s at rest, beyond this plane of mortal sufferings. I have that to be thankful for that at least.” Kate carefully stroked Maia’s hair and smiled again, looking up at Daye. “Out of the mouths of babes huh?”
Daye shrugged. People often commented on how unusually aware Maia was. *Course she was born of an evil Goddess and a mad demon,* Daye thought ruefully, snuffing the resentment and impatience brewing within her. *What's wrong with me? Kate needs me today. Maia needs me everyday. I used to like that feeling.* Daye was chafing beneath the weight of responsibility lately, but she couldn't quite figure out why. She couldn't justify that feeling or her inexplicable anger of late, any more than she could justify the unwelcome and unwarranted arousal she'd felt earlier talking to Nikolai. Resolutely, she pushed all of that down.
"Kate, are you... okay?" she asked kindly. "I was... it's so hard inside, I understand why you might want a few moments alone, but sitting out here crying... It might be better if you were with friends or... I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry."
Kate sighed downheartedly, “It’s like you said, I needed a bit of time alone that’s all, after the funeral… it just got a bit too much you know? Jack’s been such a comfort, and all of you have too, it’s just… Well, this thing with Galen… I can’t help but feel like it’s only going to get worse. I don’t know what to do.”
Daye frowned at the other woman's words. True, Galen had been acting out of sorts, but really, what did they all expect? The poor man had lost his daughter too, and it wasn't like he was used to these things. He wasn't a witch, or a psychic, or a Watcher even. Galen Eldridge was just a regular guy in over his head. It seemed to Daye that maybe they all should cut him a little bit of slack. She wasn't going to say so to Kate, though.
"Sure, Kate, I understand," she said. "I think Galen... well, maybe if you just give him some time. It's hard on him too, and maybe he's not ready to talk about it or… I don't know. I know how you must be feeling, but I don't know what to tell you about your husband." *Except maybe that you should try and make an effort to at least look halfway good,* that dark inner voice sneered. *You're practically a skeleton in a dress, woman. Men like some curves to grab hold of.* Daye shook off that voice angrily. Now was not the time for her wayward nasty thoughts.
Kate frowned in confusion at the mixed signals she was receiving from her friend, tugging subconsciously at the waistline of her dress. Daye just seemed so… she couldn’t put her finger on it, it was almost like talking to two people. On the surface she seemed all concerned and compassionate but underneath that there was something else, something not quite right.
“No… I mean, I know…” Kate shook her head in a daze, the feeling that she was getting from Daye unsettled her more than she could justifiably explain. “I just want to be there for him you know? I want us to be there for each other, he just won’t let me in anymore…”
Daye nodded sympathetically, but underneath the mercenary coming to life in her wondered if maybe it wasn't time for someone else to try and 'be there' for Detective Eldridge. No one seemed to understand his reaction but her, and maybe there was a good reason for that. Maybe what Galen needed was something that Kate couldn't provide.
Daye closed her eyes briefly, battling those thoughts down once again. The problem was, this was a war she was waging more and more every day, and Daye grew weary of fighting it.
"Of course, you love him," Daye said. *Weak as that love appears to be.* "It's natural for you to be confused and upset. I just wonder... maybe if you just... oh, who am I kidding? I honestly don't know what to tell you. All I know is, Kate, you can't make him turn to you... you can't make him open up. It's all on his time."
The frown on Kate’s forehead didn’t abate as Daye spoke; in fact it grew harder with her increased puzzlement. “Galen and I have always been so close, especially this past year and I do love him, very much,” Kate fixed Daye with a poignant glare, “I really couldn’t cope with losing him as well as Emma.”
Kate’s eyes washed over Daye, she looked so different, so cool and unconcerned. “Daye… are you all right? You seem a bit out of sorts or something?” It was an understatement and no mistake, the conflicting feelings she was getting from her at the moment seemed too erratic and extreme to be caused by just a slight disconcertion due to the present situation.
Daye was surprised by Kate's question. She didn't at first know how to respond. She was feeling out of sorts, that was true, but it wasn't really Kate's problem... *business.* The woman had enough to worry about. She didn't need to take on any added burdens... *stick her nose in where it didn't belong.* Daye finally nodded slowly, schooling her thoughts and features to reveal nothing.
"I'm fine, Kate," Daye said, sounding very sincere. "I've had this... illness... but it's passing, and I guess I'm still pretty overwhelmed by everything that's happened, but I'll be okay. Don't worry about me. You've got enough on your mind."
Kate nodded in acceptance. That could explain it, an illness, sometimes it made you act differently, made you more short tempered and irritable than usual. She smiled down at Maia again, “Can I?” she asked, gesturing to take hold of the precious little girl.
As Daye handed her over, Kate held her close in her arms and sighed. “You know, it’s times like this… looking at Maia, I realise everything that I’m going to miss. Her first word… her first step…” She looked away in an attempt to will any impending tears away. “Okay,” she sighed, “I’m ready to go back in.”
****
The kitchen was bustling with activity as guests milled around the large table, overflowing with trays of Joshua’s tempting finger foods. There were plates of bright red and green canapés - smoked mozzarella and red pepper profiteroles, herb chevre filos, spinach and feta stuffed mushrooms and sundried tomato tartlets. Amongst all of those were a selection of fruits, large shiny apples in shades of scarlet and emerald, bright yellow bananas, and dusky black plums.
Kate suddenly felt deeply overwhelmed at the sight and bundled Maia back into Daye’s arms quickly as she re-entered the kitchen. Joshua stood by the table serving drinks out to every one from a large pitcher, his immense, beaming smile lighting up the room for everyone who entered.
“Oh,” Kate gasped in surprise as she walked through the back door, dozens of eyes suddenly turning and focusing on her. Daye continued to stand closely behind her juggling Maia in her arms who was desperate to be put down so she could explore. “Oh no Joshua! I didn’t mean… I, well I didn’t mean for you to be serving,” Kate began worriedly, feeling slightly guilty that the man seemed to still be working even though she had invited him as a friend.
“Wha? No Miss Kate! Sure I don’ mind in de slightest, what eva help I can be is a pleasure an’ no doubt about it,” he smiled brightly, wrapping a big bear of an arm around her, pulling her into the crowd of well-wishers and friends. “An I muss say Miss, how purdy you is lookin’ today… though so thin! It’s a crime to let such a fine figure as yours waste away, it is!”
Kate couldn’t help but smile at Joshua’s motherly behaviour as he swiftly cleared a seat and sat her down, placing a plate of tempting victuals in front of her.
“Nah you eat Miss, time like dis is no time to skip a meal, you need to build up ya strength.” He gently nudged the plate of food closer to her and smiled encouragingly. “You need to eat,” he urged her quietly, a more gentle and softer expression creasing his dark, robust features.
Kate looked down at the plate with a mildly confused glance and nodded, picking up a big gooey looking chocolate brownie that sat on the edge and bringing it up to her mouth before taking a tentative bite.
Joshua smiled happily and laid his big paw of a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Ah know miss Amanda will agree wi’ me when I say there’s nothing like one of Joshua’s chocolate brownies for what ails ya.”
“Thanks Joshua,” Kate nodded graciously as she swallowed the first bite, the sticky, chocolatey lump seemimg to melt in her mouth though it sat solidly in her stomach like day-old porridge.
****
Galen walked through the house, occasionally being stopped by one person or another, some who he had never even met before in his life! This was his worst nightmare come true he thought dismally, being trapped in this house with dozens of people all expecting him to be acting the part of the supportive husband or the grief stricken father. Sad, sympathetic faces seemed to stare back at him no matter where he turned, the gentle buzz of conversation suddenly falling silent whenever he entered a room. And where was Kate in all of this? His eyes furiously searched the small groups of people, chatting and eating canapés, he kept expecting to see her at the centre or maybe sitting somewhere alone with that tearful, apprehensive expression on her face like a deer caught in the headlights.
But she was nowhere to be found.
"Oof! Shit! Sorr... oh!" Reah reddened slightly, caught on the spot as she bumped into him. There she was so immersed in her thoughts and finding the bathroom that she didn't spot the man, who now looked considerably unimpressed. But then again, that was apparently the season's fashion for him. "Galen, I..." Reah smiled weakly, flustered and desperate for the toilet. The man's baby had just died, and all she could think about was her bladder! But that was soon washed away by an overwhelming sense of guilt. She could hardly imagine the weight such a tragedy must have.
“Reah… it’s okay… no problem…” said Galen distractedly as the woman straightened herself out after their slight collision. He wasn’t really paying attention himself as he continued to crane his neck, looking over Reah’s shoulder in his search for Kate.
"I'm so sorry." Reah bowed her head. She really was sorry, but for what exactly, she wasn't entirely sure as she quickly ducked out of the man's way, cursing herself. *What a fucking dick I am!*
“Like I said, no harm done,” mumbled Galen as Reah hastily continued on her way, making a dash for the stairs. He barely even registered her self-dismissal as he proceeded to work his way past the small groups of guests towards the drawing room.
“Galen, hi… beautiful service, really… By the way, what religion did you say your wife practised? I have to say that was a very alternative ceremony but quite touching nevertheless…”
Galen was broken from his thoughts as he looked up at the man who had stopped him. He was tall, middle aged, with shocking green eyes and raven black hair cut into a sharp crop. Galen immediately recognised him as Acton Ellis, the man who’s wife worked at County Hospital where Emma had died. The man responsible for letting the entire precinct know about his personal problems. It took a great effort of self-control for Galen not to just punch the man’s lights out just then and there.
“I didn’t,” he replied bluntly to the man’s question and quickly pushed past him without another word. *Fucking asshole!* he thought to himself angrily, continuing on his way to the drawing room on the far side of the house. It was a room that hardly ever got used apart from on occasions such as this when there were plenty of guests to accommodate. It was mostly used for storing literally the hundreds of books that had once been up in the attic, though recently they’d used it as a den for Emma to play in.
Just as he was about to enter the hallway though the sound of hushed voices made him pause, halting in his tracks behind the wall. He peered around, noticing a trio gathered beneath the staircase, two demons and a young looking female witch. The two demons had momentarily pulled back the hoods to their cloaks, revealing their ruddy, scaled skins looking like old boot leather in the waning light of the stairwell.
“I don’t know what the rest of you made of it,” began the larger of the two demons, his baritone voice tinged with menace, “…but I thought he acted like a complete budala. Poor Katerina, to be treated so badly and after their little dete died and by her own husband…”
“Everyone can tell too,” chirped in the young witch, “I don’t know why she doesn’t just hex him or something… plague of boils… that would suit him well, or maybe a mild strain of the Black Death…”
“Oh Raiyna,” scolded the other demon, the high pitch of her voice indicating that she was actually female though physically, as far as Galen could tell, her appearance matched that of her male companion. “You’re too cruel,” she continued. “He’s hurting, can’t you see that? Grief takes many forms you know.”
“So does blind stupidity,” laughed the Wiccan flippantly, rousing a quite shower of laughter from the others.
Galen scowled angrily, turning and walking in the opposite direction. *Screw this,* he thought furiously, he could almost feel his face turning red not just from anger but also humiliation. He hadn’t agreed to this whole thing just to be made a fool of in his own house! *Screw this!* he thought again with equal fury as he made his way back through the sitting room to the front door. Suddenly he felt a hand grab his arm as he passed.
Acton Ellis had been quite put out by Galen’s earlier abrupt manner and wanted to straighten a few things out. His question certainly hadn’t meant to cause offence, especially since Detective Eldridge was his superior back at the precinct.
“Hey Galen!” he cried out, grabbing a hold of his arm as he saw him heading back through the room. “About before I didn’t mean anything by that-” The next thing Ellis knew he was laid out on the floor, the taste of his own blood filling his mouth as Galen’s fist had slammed into his nose with unrestrained force.
Tash had been quietly conversing with Quin on the far side of the room when she heard the loud gasp of several people. She turned swiftly, feeling an overwhelming sense of anger and rage fill the room.
Quin watched the unsettling display as Tash slipped past her, with a quirked eyebrow of interest. The sharp crack, not two metres from behind, had sent shivers down her spine - like fingernails running down a chalkboard, she couldn't stand it - sharply drawing her wide eyes to the sprawling, bloody faced man on the ground.
She couldn't help the fleeting matchmaker thoughts for her cousin that passed through her head, smirking with an air of amusement.
Nikolai turned in the direction of the sudden release of anger, pausing only momentarily to reflect that he now noticed such things by the emotion rather than the sound. His companion looked a bit worried, "Pardon me," he said, before moving through the sitting room to where a large group of people had gathered at the sudden outburst. Galen still stood over the sprawled out man, rubbing his sore fist in his other hand.
“You keep the fuck out of my business in the future!” Galen spat angrily, still holding his sore fist as he glowered down at a stunned Acton Ellis who held his bloody nose in both his hands, the crimson liquid dripping between his fingers onto his shirt.
Nikolai grabbed hold of Galen, pulling him back from the crowd before he decided to make another swing at the man. Galen gave a grunt of anger, struggling to free himself from Nikolai’s tight grip without success.
“Easy there,” warned Nikolai quietly but firmly, “I think that’s enough excitement for one day don’t you?”
Tash pushed her way in through the throng of bodies, staring agog at Galen as his eyes burned with fury. She shot Nikolai a grateful glance, thanking him silently for his swift action. People had already flooded in from other rooms to watch the spectacle and she caught a glimpse of Kate’s shocked and dismayed face in the doorway before she turned and pushed her way through the crowd of spectators with clearly visible humiliation.
“Someone take him to the kitchen and get him cleaned up,” she ordered calmly, pointing to the bloody man on the floor. “And get some ice to help with the swelling,” she added as several people helped pull Ellis from the floor, leading him towards the kitchen. That taken care of Tash turned back to Galen and Nikolai. “I think we should have that talk now,” she stated firmly.
****
*Oh Gaia…* thought Kate desperately, holding her head in shame as she slipped through the crowds and out of the kitchen to the back porch. She’d never felt so humiliated in all her life, what was Galen thinking!? It was bad enough that she had to endure the speculation of her friends and their endless questions about his erratic behaviour not to mention his cool demeanour towards herself, without him losing it in front of a house full of their closest friends and acquaintances.
Kate sighed, sinking down into the porch swing, rocking gently and hugging her bare arms against the slight breeze that caused the poplars to sway gently to and fro. It was still a brilliantly sunny afternoon and much warmer than it had been earlier. Golden light poured into the garden illuminating the lustre of the grass and the trees with their early spring buds just beginning to appear. She closed her eyes, feeling the warm sun on her face as she continued to sway back and forth in an effort to quell the familiar urge to just break down and cry.
She could still hear the hushed voices inside the house just a closed door away. Everyone would be talking about Galen’s outburst, Gaia only knew what they would say… Then there was that poor man, she felt like she should be the one to help him, clean up his bloody nose and hold an ice pack against his face until he felt better but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t stand the thought of all those eyes watching her for a reaction, all their unspoken thoughts and judgements assailing her senses.
“Kate?” A voice called out back from the kitchen door, as Darian and Cole emerged through the house’s threshold. “I… um… I hope we’re not disturbing you,” Darian said apologetically, seeing that the woman was alone, “It’s just that we have to get going.”
Kate opened her eyes abruptly at Darian’s voice and turned to look at the two young men who hung back awkwardly in the doorway. “Oh,” she said with more than a little disappointment in her voice, “I… um… okay,” she mumbled turning more properly in the swing seat to face them. “Well, thank you both for coming…”
Darian couldn’t imagine the pain she must be in. He had lost a lot of people in his life, but that couldn’t even compare; Kate had lost her child. The fae walked forward and crouched down so he was at eye level with the woman. “Kate, if there is anything ever you need or whatever,” he said gently, trying to find the non-existent ‘right’ words, “Don’t hesitate for a second to ask anything; you know we’re here for you.”
“Thanks… again,” said Kate, trying to force a smile but failing miserably. It felt a little odd, talking to Darian like that. After all, despite having met him quite frequently over the past few months at the White Hat meetings she still didn’t know all that much about him, nor him her she supposed. And Cole; she knew he was a witch, or a mage or whatever he wanted to call himself, he had the gift. But apart from that… Perhaps that made his offer all the more special, he didn’t have to come out here to talk to her after all.
“I appreciate it,” she said finally with a slight nod of acceptance. “I don’t know what I’d have done this past week if it hadn’t been for all of you.”
Darian simply smiled reassuringly, as he made his way back to the door allowing Cole a second to express his condolences. “Like Darian said, if there is ever anything you need...” he let the words fall from his lips, before the kid unexpectedly leaned closer in, and wrapped his arms around the woman in what seemed like a comforting gesture.
However, once in the embrace, Cole turned his head ever so slightly, bringing his lips closer to her ear. “Death… for people like us, it doesn’t have to be the end, just… a setback,” he whispered so softly that only she could hear. With that, he backed away, and made his way through the door with Darian, but not before casting Kate a sinister smirk.
Kate couldn’t help but draw back from Cole’s embrace, feeling a slight unnerving sensation crawl across her skin, not too dissimilar from the feeling she had experienced from Daye earlier. As he whispered the words in her ear her eyes widened in surprise, searching the boy’s face as though waiting for him to laugh it away as a joke… but he didn’t. ”Death… doesn’t have to be the end…” She felt the words and Cole’s intent cut through her, penetrating her bones like a cold chill that didn’t pass even as he drew away, following Darian back into the house.
Hearing the door creak open Kate turned, her eyes locking with Cole’s as his features contorted into a sinister grin, his own eyes clouded with darkness. ”Death… for people like us, it doesn’t have to be the end, just… a setback…” Kate turned away suddenly, not liking what she saw in the boy’s features, malevolent and ominous with the power of unrestrained forces. She didn’t even realise she’d been holding her breath until she felt him leave; though the threat of Cole’s words remained.
Slowly she rose from the swing seat and walked back inside the kitchen to help Mr Ellis with his bloody nose and hopefully put Cole’s ominous comment far from her mind.
****
Nikolai felt the rage building up in Galen again, as they tried to hold him back. He watched as Kate moved off through the crowd, then decided to talk to Galen first. "I think it behooves us to find a less crowded place," Nikolai suggested, opening the front door. Galen shot a stern look in the direction of Acton before storming out, Nikolai and Tash following right behind him.
"Wait, wait!" Nikolai called out as he stormed towards the car. Just as Galen got there, he grabbed his arm to stop him. "Wait up. What happened back there? This isn't like you."
“How the fuck would you know!?” he shot back furiously, shrugging away Nikolai’s hand as he attempted to try and calm him down. “I knew this was a bad idea, this whole goddamn day, I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Jack!”
"Because you're feeling pissed off and looking for someone to blame," Nikolai returned steadily. He could feel the annoyance raising at his calm voice, but it needed to be said. Then he stopped for a moment. He wouldn't be there if it wasn't for Jack. It was possible to beat around the bush, but that obviously wouldn't work. Maybe if someone tried to be direct. "Galen, why are you being such a jerk to your wife?"
Tash shot a quick glance in Nikolai’s direction; she was thinking exactly the same thing but she wasn’t certain that Nikolai was the best one to take this approach. Not since his transformation. She didn’t fancy having to defend him if it devolved into a brawl, and she had a feeling that the new Nikolai wouldn’t be fighting back if Galen got pissed at him. She kept a wary eye on Galen, her senses alert to any change in his mood that might give her advanced warning of such an event.
“For fuck’s sake!” Galen shouted in annoyance, barely resisting the urge to beat the ever-loving crap out of the arrogant Russian bastard. “I’ve barely said two words to Kate! Maybe if jerks like you kept your nose out where it isn’t wanted we’d be able to sort a few things out!”
*As if they’re currently sorting anything out!* thought Nikolai, but he could understand the man’s annoyance at him. The last thing that Galen probably wanted was another person yelling at him to do the right thing. But maybe there was something else... "Barely said two words?" he repeated as the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. "That would explain why Kate's less than happy with you. So why can't you talk to her?"
Galen rolled his eyes with a certain amount of irritation, “Look, moron, what part of ‘keep your nose out where it isn’t wanted’ do you need explaining?” He angrily slammed his fist down on the hood of the car, “If I want to be psychoanalysed, Dr Freud, I’d go to someone a little more qualified than an ex-hitman with a crisis of conscience.”
Nikolai shook his head at Galen in slight annoyance. Mentioning the merging of his mind would probably not be smart, and it was true that he wasn't a professional. But there had to be some reason he wasn't talking to Kate. Galen needed someone he could talk to about it. "I'm not worried about what you want, I'm worried about what you need. Find some way to work this out Galen, if for no one else's sake than Kate's. If you won't talk to me, fine. I have nothing further to say to you." Nikolai turned to leave, giving Tash a look that told her clearly not to stop him.
Tash shook her head in dismay as Nikolai turned his back and headed back into the house. “For God’s sake Galen, when are you going to realise this isn’t normal behaviour, even for someone grieving? I thought maybe I’d gotten through to you last night but obviously nothing I said had any effect did it? We are your friends, we want to help you get through this but you shutting us out isn’t going to accomplish anything. I don’t know why you can’t- won’t talk to Kate, but I do know that it’s hurting her more than you’re obviously aware of. Maybe you don’t care about the extra pain you’re putting her through by purposefully ignoring or avoiding every sign of her suffering but you should if you ever placed any value whatsoever on your wedding vows.”
Galen turned away in disgust at Tash’s words. Her voice was harsh and acerbic and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she was overcompensating for losing Victor last year. “I appreciate you wanting to help, Tash,” he said after a long silence had passed, “but really, whatever problems Kate and I may be having are between the two of us and not only none of your concern but also none of your business.”
****
*What a fucking prick!* Reah thought angrily to herself after hearing from Quin what had happened while she was gone. It took a lot of her efforts to keep a calm, condoling composure as she picked her way through the crowd - though she figured those efforts were probably a waste of time, what with all the likely empaths and telepaths present.
From the corner of her eye she spotted a flash of red, drawing her attention toward the kitchen where the sun had glinted off her mourning friend’s fiery hair. Reah felt another pang of guilt, her heart reaching out to the other woman who had to deal with tending to the results of her husband’s crass actions on top of everything else.
"Want me to bust his nose for you?" Reah light-heartedly spoke, laying a comforting hand on Kate's shoulder. Though technically, she really did want to smash his lights out with her willing fist.
Kate looked up, surprised to see Reah hanging back a little even though her hand was firmly placed on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. Kate smiled weakly at her friend’s jovial comment. She’d had a moment to calm herself out on the porch and at least now she felt less angry though at the time she’d had to restrain herself from giving Galen a good slap herself. It was just typical of his behaviour recently, he couldn’t even control himself at his own daughter’s funeral.
“Thanks,” she said meekly as she took the ice pack from Acton Ellis’ hands and held it for him against the side of his busted nose. *Thank the gods it looks worse than it actually is,* she thought silently to herself, the day just wouldn’t have been complete without a trip to the Emergency Room. “I might just take you up on that offer.”
Reah smiled genuinely before offering her help in tending the man’s misfortune.
****
Nikolai stopped at the porch before turning to face Tash and Galen one final time. He knew Tash well enough to know that she wouldn't listen to him in leaving Galen alone. In fact he knew she’d try everything she could think of to get him to open up to her.
Sighing, he opened the door to slip back in the house and try to find Kate to see if he could do something to help her. Galen's anger wasn't subdued but at least it would be redirected to someone he knew could kick his ass if he wanted to start something.
People seemed to be deliberately looking away from him, a sense of curiosity there, wondering what was going on outside but not wanting to appear uncaring enough to ask. He found Kate in the kitchen with Reah, the two women administering a cold pack to Ellis' head. "Um, hello," he started awkwardly. "How is he doing?"
Kate looked up at Nikolai and smiled weakly, she remembered seeing him holding Galen back from any further attack he might have attempted on the poor police officer and she was thankful for his and Tash’s quick thinking. Things could have been much worse she realised as she continued to balance the linen hand cloth filled with ice against Mr Ellis’ swollen and red looking nose.
“I think we’re doing okay,” she said wearily, checking the man over gently. “At least it doesn’t appear to be broken.” Carefully she handed the pack over to Reah with further instructions to keep it still until the pain subsided. “I guess I should thank you again,” she said quietly to Nikolai as she leaned back against the counter, barely able to look him in the eye she felt so embarrassed. “Galen’s just… not himself. Understatement of the year I know, but he is trying… I know he is.”
Reah rolled her eyes as she listened in on the conversation between Nikolai and Kate, barely able to restrain her own frustration at Galen’s behaviour. From what Quin had told her, that punch had been fairly brutal and would likely have developed into a full blown brawl if it hadn’t been for the swift intervention of Tash and Nikolai. *Bloody men! Fucken screwed up, the lot of ‘em!*
*He's not trying very hard,* Nikolai thought, sighing at the experience. If Galen wasn't careful, he was afraid of what Kate might eventually do. *No. She would never leave him - she could kill him, but she won't leave him.* "I'm just sorry that things happened the way they did. But he still loves you, Kate, even if he's not showing it well at the moment." That last caused Reah to guffaw at the remark. "Tasha is speaking with him right now, though. Hopefully things will be fine."
Kate nodded but her expression was less than convinced by Nikolai’s words. She knew that whatever Galen was going through wasn’t about to be solved by any amount of friendly advice, and she had every faith in Tash, she honestly did. The woman had a way with words, she could be surprisingly diplomatic and perhaps, not-so-surprisingly intuitive given her gifts. But she knew Galen, at least she thought she did. His problem seemed to lie in herself and if she couldn’t say or do anything to get him to open up she doubted that anyone else would. *But you’re going to have to do something… you can’t keep living like this…*
Suddenly Cole’s words seemed to come alive in her mind, swirling through her thoughts like the answer to all her problems. *No… don’t think about that… it’s not the right way to do things…* She clamped down that thought firmly, locking it away, glad that Nikolai wasn’t a mind reader. “I really appreciate everything you and Tash have done for me, but when it comes to Galen… well let’s just say I won’t be holding my breath.”
There seemed to be a bit of self-reproach to Kate, leaving Nikolai to wonder if she didn't blame herself at least in part for Galen's behaviour. He suspected that she just might, she loved him so much that she would do anything to protect him and just couldn't think of him as being wilfully malicious. Looking at her, there, it struck him that she was probably the single most alone person he'd ever known despite her being surrounded by friends.
"Men are supposed to be stubborn," he said, trying to reassure her. "But while Galen is more stubborn than most, he will have to come around in time. The only thing we can do at this point is wait, which I know is a very hard thing to ask but...." He let the thought trail off. Really, what else was there to do?
“I’m used to doing things the hard way,” Kate said steadily, “My life has never been easy, but loving Galen was - easy, I mean. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had our fair share of problems but we’ve always been able to talk about them. He’s never shut me out like this before. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“I know," Nikolai said. Despite her attempts at being strong, he knew she was close to the breaking point. "Tasha is talking to him right now, as I said. But... he is also getting tired of us 'butting in'. I do not know if us talking to him will make things worse. However, I do know that you have the strength to see it through."
“See that’s the problem Koyla…” said Kate tiredly, “I don’t think I do. I’ve been trying so hard this past week thinking that if I got to this point, if I could get the funeral out of the way then it would make things better, that somehow I’d be able to cope. But everything is just worse! The more time that passes the more I realise that my little girl is dead, that she’s never coming back.”
Tears welled up in Kate’s eyes and she sniffled a bit, looking down as she wiped at her eyes. “No Koyla,” she said resolutely, looking back up at her friend with unshakeable certainty. “I don’t have the strength at all.”
Nikolai wasn't sure whether he should encourage Kate to hold back or to let loose. He tossed a sideways glance at Acton Ellis, who seemed to take the hint and slip out quietly, Reah reluctantly following in tow. Galen needed to talk to her, needed to be there.
"You don't seriously believe that," he suggested. "After everything you've been through, that you don't have the strength." But there was something else there. It was all so much more real now, before she had the funeral to distract her and now... now, Kate had nothing to distract her. Nothing but the pain. Instantly a decision was made.
"Katya, why don't you get some rest? Lay down for a bit, do what you need to do. I'll tell everyone... you aren't feeling well, after all the work you put into organising this." That at least would have the virtue of being a half-truth at the worst.
Kate shook her head firmly, “No, I can’t. I have to be here, especially after what happened. I can rest later, what else is there to do once all this is over?” She smiled at Nikolai’s concerned expression, “Don’t worry about me, you’re right. I’ll find the strength I need somewhere. Gaia knows I’ve been through this enough times.”
Kate felt a sob rise up at the unfairness of it all and she turned away, raising her hand out to stop Nikolai from comforting her. “I’m okay, please…” she took a moment to compose herself and then smiled weakly. “Maybe I will have that lay down after all.”
****
Tash repositioned herself before Galen, her fists clenching and unclenching in frustration. “I’m sorry, Galen, but what’s happening between you and Kate has become my business. I will not stand by and watch while you tear yourself apart, and take her with you. Maybe you won’t even admit it to yourself yet, but somewhere in there,” she tapped his heart lightly, “you know why you’re acting the way you are. You know why you’ve got conflicting feelings of love and hate for your wife. You know why you blame her for Emma’s death. Think about that for a minute. Think about WHY you feel like this.”
She paused, lowering her voice a little as she realised that it had grown slowly louder during her diatribe. “Please, Galen. For Kate’s sake as well as your own.”
Galen felt himself recoil at Tash’s bold statements, his face crumbling into a confused frown. “Blame her? I don’t blame Kate for Emma’s death, I mean… that would just be…” his voice trailed off impotently and he looked up at Tash, wondering whether she believed any of that. Did he even believe it himself? Blame Kate? It would certainly explain his feelings towards her, the hate, the anger… He suddenly felt weak, unsteady. He had to reach out and grab a hold of the body of the car for support as he felt a rushing, crippling surge of grief rush over him.
A strong arm slipped around his waist as Tash offered herself for support. Saying nothing, she let Galen take the lead. After the things she'd just said to him, she wasn't sure hers was the shoulder he wanted to cry on. But hers was available, if he wanted it. For now, she knew she needed to remain silent, to let Galen talk. To give him the room he needed to think things through, where until now he'd been merely operating on autopilot.
“Oh God Tash, what am I doing?” Galen moaned wretchedly, holding on to the strong woman, suddenly the physical contact that he’d so avoided felt good, secure, comforting. “What’s wrong with me? Why am I so fucking screwed up!?”
Tash held him, rubbing his back in slow circles. "I wish I could tell you, but you're the only one with that answer. All I know is that grief affects people differently, but some ways are more destructive than others." Tash pushed away the niggling voice that told her she hadn't properly dealt with her own grief yet, consoling herself with the justification that at least she wasn't hurting anyone else in the process.
"How would you feel about talking to Kate about all of this? I really think that opening up to her about how you've been feeling these past few days will help you both to heal." She held her breath, hardly daring to hope that Galen had reached an epiphany.
Galen shook his head dismally, “I can’t Tash, not yet anyway.” He couldn’t hold contact with the woman anymore and he broke free, walking a little in the driveway, hoping that the air might settle his nerves. He looked down at his red knuckles and grimaced at his earlier outburst.
“I just need some… time, space, I don’t know! I just feel like, like I can’t breathe…” He sighed anxiously, looking back at the house. He’d always found the architecture to be attractive and inviting but suddenly it seemed threatening, prison-like. His home had become his prison and Kate his fellow inmate, or was she his jail keeper?
“I don’t know what to do anymore,” he said sadly, “I don’t want to hurt her but that’s all I seem capable of lately.”
“Then if you can’t tell her everything just yet, perhaps you can minimise both your pain by telling her what you can, what you’ve just told me. Let her know that you’re aware you’ve been cold and distant, and that you’re sorry to have hurt her. Let her know you’re trying to work it through on your own terms. Just… talk to her. Even if you don’t dare tell her all of it, just talk to her.”
“Maybe…” said Galen wistfully, “maybe you’re right. This hasn’t worked so far, I know that much for sure.” He nodded his head determinedly, though he wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince Tash or himself. “You are right, I’ll talk to her… today, when everybody’s gone. I’ll talk to her.”
His words rang true, and Tash nodded, satisfied that at least he would make the attempt. She just hoped that some good would come of it. Surely it couldn’t be worse than this terrible silent animosity?
She smiled sympathetically at him, “I hope you’re able to work this out, I really do. I know how much you and Kate love each other, and even something as terrible as Emma’s death shouldn’t come between you like this. Maybe it’s just… people like you and I are used to being able to fight our demons face to face. Something like this… there’s no explanation, nothing to attack. It makes it very hard to accept."
Galen nodded his head in response but he wasn’t really listening anymore. He couldn’t, all he was able to think about right now was what he would say to Kate and how he could possibly explain his recent behaviour. He turned to Tash. “Maybe we should get back? I could use a drink and… and I should really apologise to that guy I laid out.”
"That sounds like a good idea - on all fronts. I could really use a drink myself," Tash agreed as she and Galen turned to enter the house. She gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. "Hang in there," she encouraged as they went their separate ways.
She watched Galen drift through the crowd, feeling both a measure of relief and fresh trepidation. Then she looked around for Nikolai, curious to see what his take was on the whole affair.
Grabbing a glass of wine as it passed by, Tash threaded her way through the assortment of people to where Nikolai stood somewhat uncomfortably near the table of finger food. She had a fair idea why he looked so ill at ease, and slid her hand beneath his elbow.
“Kolya, let's go outside for a minute, away from all these people,” she suggested. “It's bad enough in here for me, and I've had years of learning how to block things out...”
Nikolai nodded, feeling the beginnings of a headache finally starting after the long day. He gave one final glance at the finger food before deciding that no, he wasn’t really all that hungry and heading outside.
“I’m actually getting used to it,” he said when they got out back. “Eventually it all just blends together.”
Outside, Tash breathed a deep lungful of spring air. “I'm glad of that. It's one thing to be born with this talent and have it develop gradually - I'd hate to get it full-blown like you did. But that wasn't the only reason I got you out here.” Tash glanced back at the house. “How did Kate cope with Galen's little outburst back there?”
“She’s embarrassed, naturally,” Nikolai started. He sighed, unsure of how much to tell Tash but then… Tash had been through more with Kate and she could understand her better. “She can’t take much more of Galen acting like he is, though.”
"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. And I can't say I blame her, either. I had some straight-up words with him yesterday, and I thought he'd been listening, but he was no better today than he was before. I think this time, though, I've helped him to see what his problem is. Or at least got him to start looking for it. It's like... well, I threw out that he blamed Kate for Emma's death, hoping to shock him a bit. He came out with the expected denial, but he couldn't finish the sentence, and he felt... Well, I think deep down he does blame her, or at least something about her. Maybe with all that magical 'testing' that man was subjecting her to - perhaps it wigged Galen out more than he let on."
Tash sighed, "I just hope that he'll take my advice and actually talk to her about this rather than letting it fester any more."
“Let’s hope that he does, then, and that things go well. Now if you’ll excuse me….” Nikolai gripped the side of his head again as the throbbing increased. That was it, he thought. As much as he wanted to be there for Kate, he couldn’t take it anymore. “I have to find some very powerful pain killers for my head.”
Concern settled onto Tash's features. "I think you just need some time away from grieving people and high emotion for a while. Go, I'll give Kate your apologies when she comes back down. I know she'll understand."
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, March 7th,
2007 - 7:15 PM
“Sh sh shakin, I’m shakin up, sh sh shakin, I’m shakin up”
Cole hummed merrily as he and Darian arrived back at the apartment; rather odd considering they had just come back from a wake. But then again, Cole had been acting so strange recently.
“Man, what a drag that was don’t you think? Talk about total downer.”
Darian’s faced grimaced as he closed the door behind him. “Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate?”
The boy’s eyes rolled as his hand brushed the air as if dismissing Darian’s comment. “Lighten up would you. Plus, today’s a good day, and would you like to know why?”
“Why is that?” the fae replied flatly.
“Because… drum roll please… I’ve decided to start practicing again!” Cole announced with a grand gesture of his arms.
*Starting to practice magic again?* Darian took a seat on the couch, deliberating internally what to do, what to say. He was by no means Cole’s father, but he did care about the kid, and lately he worried, worried a lot. A short time after their return from Israel, Darian’s keen mystical senses had attuned to something inside the boy – something foreign, mystical, dark. At first he had ignored it, believing it to be emotional overload, but now he wasn’t so sure. One day Cole was grieving over Chance, and the next he had seemed to forget all about him. Things just didn’t seem right.
“So what, you’re not going to comment?” Cole interrupted, annoyed at Darian’s sudden silence.
“Well, Cole, sit down for a second ok? I want to talk to you about something. How are you doing these days?”
“What? What do you mean? I’m fine, great, feeling super duper,” the boy responded quickly.
“Are you sure? I mean you just seemed to get over everything so quickly. You went from being in your room the whole time to…”
“To what? Going on with my life? Yeah, so what? Chance is dead, he took the decision, and he left me and everyone who cared about him. So I’m not going to waste my time crying over that.”
Cole had surprised Darian with his sudden outburst, but unexpectedly, he surprised himself. He didn’t really feel that way did he? No… Yes… He wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter really, what did was that Darian was getting a tad nosey.
“It’s not only that, Cole. The other day, your school called here and told me how you got kicked out of class. Then, on top of it, you left school completely. Why are you doing all this? Cole, if you’re having trouble coping with things, you can tell me, you know that right?”
The teen’s eyes rolled once again. “Someone’s been watching one too many episodes of Seventh Heaven,” he said, irritated. “Look, I’m fine ok. Like I said, I’m A-OK. The school thing was no big deal. The teacher was acting like a complete ass, so I told him where to stick it.”
“For God’s sake Cole, you flipped him the bird.”
Cole’s lips twisted in creepy smile; it was obvious he was proud of that. “So what exactly is your point, because to be honest, I’m getting bored with this conversation.”
“The point is Cole, something is not right with all this. Now, after all that, you’ve decided to start magic again? Don’t you remember what happened last time you cast a spell? You almost died.”
The smile vanished, as Cole’s face turned a shade of crimson. “I made a mistake, one I don’t intend to do again.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to do magic again, at least not now.”
“Well you don’t really have a choice in the matter now do you? You can’t tell me what I can and cannot do,” the teen countered angrily.
“I’m just trying to help you here Cole, why are you acting this way?”
“Help me? That’s a fucking joke if I ever heard one. Shall we take a look at your track record there Darian? You did a great job ‘helping’ your friend Sebastian from Dathan. Really dropped the ball on that one, eh? Then you performed equally as well in stopping Chance from walking off into certain death. Yeah, I think history speaks for itself when it comes to you ‘helping’ people.”
And then there was silence.
A long, long silence.
Finally, Darian rose slowly to his feet, a look of ice glimmering in his bubbling amethyst eyes. “Cole,” he said slowly and firmly “something is wrong with you.”
“You know what,” Cole spat back, not feeling the slightest remorse for the atrocious comments he had just made. “There is something wrong with me. And you know what it is? It’s the fact that I’m wasting my time here with you! But don’t worry, I don’t need your help rectifying that situation, I can fix it myself.” The boy whipped his jacket on, and stormed to the door, and into the hallway.
“Cole, wait!” Darian started after him, but with a simple wave of the boy’s hand, he advanced no further – looked like the ‘starting to practice again’ took effect immediately.
“Catch you on the flip, big guy,” Cole called out, before rushing down the stairwell.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, 7th March 2007 – 7:22pm
Tash’s mind was preoccupied as she rumbled to a stop outside Poplar Avenue. The conversations with Galen and Nikolai were still fresh in her head, and she hoped Galen would do as he’d promised. Dismounting from her bike she had just started to wheel it towards the brownstone’s steps when the door flew open violently on its hinges and Cole practically ran down the steps, almost bowling Tash over.
“Hey, whoa,” she said, noting with some concern the murky colours in his aura, punctuated by the bright red spikes of anger. “What’s the rush?”
“Oh, hi Tash,” Cole injected a false air of joviality into his speech, trying to make it seem nothing was wrong. “Sorry, can’t talk. Things to do, y’know. Bye...”
Tash blinked at Cole’s retreating form, worry lines creasing her forehead. A minute later she was standing at Darian’s door, knocking gently.
“Who’s there?” Darian’s strained voice called out from inside the apartment.
“It’s me, Tash.”
“Quick, come in, it’s open.”
As Tash pushed open the door, she was somewhat stunned to see Darian contorted in a bizarre position, struggling fiercely to break free from some sort of invisible force.
“Cole,” he huffed through panting breaths. “Did you see where he went?” he asked nervously, as he managed to get some mobility in his right arm.
Tash shook her head. “He went haring off down Poplar, towards the city. He did this to you?” Her frown grew deeper, and she reached out to touch Darian, to see if contact would break the spell.
Disappointment, sadness, anger, and concern all marred the man’s face, as he toiled even harder to gain the freedom. “Yeah, he did this,” he sighed. “Now Tash, stand back for a second ok?”
The woman complied, retracting her hand and increasing the distance between her and her friend.
“Hope this works.” Darian’s aura began to flare outwards, swirling with dark shades of blackish-blue. He didn’t enjoy tapping into this side of his power, but when the need was there, what choice did he have? Like a growing fire, the black magic of the faery inside began to flow from Darian’s body, smothering the energy of Cole’s spell. Sweat began to bead down his face, but Darian continued coaxing his powers till finally…
POP
The unseen bands that held him snapped off, throwing Darian to the floor in the process. “Magic,” he snorted, as he dusted himself off.
“Yeah,” Tash blinked, moving to help Darian to his feet. She was pretty sure Darian hadn’t been able to do stuff like that on G’rnatha. It was as though Evexus’ emergence had left him with a greater wellspring of magic to tap into. Her only worry was that it didn’t seem entirely wholesome, but there were other concerns right now.
“So, do you want to tell me what happened with you and Cole?”
“I’m not sure I can tell you what happened, because I don’t really know. A little after we got back from Israel he started acting different, like moody. I just thought,” he stopped a second, trying to catch his breath; the display of power had taken a lot out of him. “…I thought it was because of Chance, I figured it was normal. But then it seemed to go beyond just grieving. He started skipping school, throwing temper tantrums, now this. He told me he was going to start practicing magic again. I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea. Well, you can see how he took that.”
“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully, gazing into the middle distance in the direction Cole had gone. “It’s probably just another symptom of his teenage rebellion. He was a bit wild before, too. I know he was pretty close to Chance, he must be hurting almost as much as Alessa...”
“That’s the thing,” Darian replied quickly, seeing that Tash was following on the same train of thought he had been on. “Before he stormed out, he said some stuff about Chance that made it seem he didn’t care anymore. Now, I know you could easily attribute that also to teenage angst, but there’s more to it than that.”
Darian’s voice dropped low, as he was afraid someone else would overhear what he was about to say. “My power may come from darkness, but all faery magic stems from nature; and because of it, I’m attuned to the natural order of things. At the wake there was definitely something unnatural in the air, and it wasn’t just in Cole. I felt the same foreign energy coming from some other people as well,” he paused, wondering if Tash was going to believe anything he was saying. “You can see auras, did you notice anything strange?”
“Well, there have been a lot of darker hints lately, but I’ve been attributing that to everything that’s been going on. I mean, what with Chance dying, and Alessa disappearing, and then Emma’s death... It’s only natural that people should be coming across a little strange.” Tash shrugged. “I dunno, did you see anything specific, or could it just be an accumulation of grief, do you think? We’ve had so many world-shattering events lately it’s easy to ascribe supernatural causes to stuff, but you have to remember we’re all more or less just human beings, too.”
“Of course Chance’s and Emma’s deaths, and Alessa’s disappearance, were bound to stir up some pretty gloomy feelings in everyone, but it’s different. Grief, loss, sorrow, all the emotions someone has, it’s all part of a person’s being, no different than their soul. Feelings, no matter how strong or powerful, do not cause ripples through Nature’s order, not like the ones I’m feeling.”
Tash’s face fell. “Damn, and here I was hoping it was just something mundane for once, though I can’t say I’ve noticed any fundamental changes in anyone like you’ve mentioned. I can usually tell if someone’s possessed by something dark. Like, for instance, when you invoke Evexus to do your magic.” She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at Darian.
“I don’t need a lecture right now on using my abilities!” he snapped back, only to regret the harsh tone he had taken. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. It’s just, now Cole is back on the streets, and could possibly be possessed by something evil… If something happens to him...”
“Well, look. We have a White Hats meeting tomorrow. I don’t know how many will be there - I doubt we’ll see Kate or Galen, for instance, but we can ask those who turn up to keep an eye out for Cole, make sure he doesn’t get into anything too dangerous. Hell, we can head out now and try to track him down if you want, but he’s probably still in a foul mood. I suspect you’ll find after a few hours he’ll just come back on his own.”
Darian slumped down on the couch, the worry still plainly visible. “Yeah, you’re probably right…” *…I hope.*
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wednesday, 7th March 2007 – 8:02pm
Cole stormed down the streets, moving further and further away from Poplar. *Stupid, frickken-boy-scout-wanna-be-hero-dick, where the hell does he get off telling me not to do magic!* It was outrageous! And outraged he was. He wouldn’t let Darian tell him what to do, even if it had meant storming off, and finding a new place to live. Hell, he had been on his own for almost two years; he knew how to take care of himself.
First step in taking care of one’s self: find a place to stay.
He could go to Alessa’s, she definitely has a nice pad, and for sure would take him in. *But on second thought, I’m not in the mood to hear her whine and cry over what’shisface anymore.*
If not Alessa, then who? He couldn’t go to any of the White Hats, Darian would find him, and no doubt try to lecture him into submission. No, that would not do. Where could he go that they wouldn’t find him?
*Vincent’s!* he finally thought triumphantly. Yeah, Vincent would put him up, and on the plus, the kid seemed loaded, maybe he would have a nice pad.
Now if only he knew where he lived. *I’ve got the number, but no phone and no money.* This could be a problem… for normal people. The teen’s eyes quickly scanned the floor until he found a suitable component, a torn plastic grocery bag. *Beggars cant be choosers.*
Lifting the bag to eye level, he closed his eyes and began to recite:
Winds that blow across the sea, Disturb the night, and come to me,
The enchanted bag began to sway and float forwards but abruptly slammed to the ground.Charm this bag into the sky
and give to it a seer’s eye.
“What the f..?” he started, angry that the spell had somehow failed. But then it dawned on him. *That demon mage of theirs. He’s bewitched the house so it can’t be detected… clever. Guess I’ll go to plan ‘B’.*
It only took another two minutes and four blocks before he managed to find someone to pickpocket. He was luck to not only get a quarter, but a twenty dollar bill also. Not bad. The boy flipped the coin cockily, as he made his way to the nearest pay phone.
Vincent was in the middle of a game of Unreal Tournament when he received the call, which had caused Vincent to get fragged by some noob. As Vincent tapped on the buttons of his control he heard the door bell go, so he got off his seat and walked to the door. He turned his attention to the monitor on the left of the door which clearly showed Cole standing alone in the long empty hallway. Unbolting the door, Vincent called out, “you know how many times I’ve saved your ass now?” A smile crept onto Vincent’s face. “Come on in, and by the way how did you get by the dek’nar’hu demons?”
An air of arrogance fell upon the teen, as he stepped into the posh penthouse. “Come on Vincent, you think a few mindless misfits from the lower planes are hard to deal with? You really should tell Skippy to step it up a notch. And speaking of stepping up notches, this place is sweet. Tons better than Darian’s dump!” he added, taking in the grandeur of the kid’s abode. “How the hell do you afford this?”
Vincent gave a wide toothed grin. “First of all, what do you mean Skippy should step it up a notch? And about the apartment, well James is a multi-millionaire - he was born into a rich family. Plus, the thing about vamps is they don’t need to invest in get rich quick shit, they can invest in stable companies. James said he made a killing back in the depression buying land left, right and centre. We’ve each got our own apartments, and a mansion which is kinda home-away-from-home.”
“Gee, next time, I’m moving in with a rich ass vamp, and not some pauper do-gooder faery,” Cole laughed, as he plopped himself on the plush designer couch. “Oh, apartment comes complete with PSX2 and plasma TV, it just keeps getting better and better.”
“Like I said, James is loaded,” Vincent reiterated.
“Thanks again eh, Vincent, I appreciate you putting me up on such short notice.”
Vincent smiled and sat down beside Cole and resumed his game on the Xbox. "Ahhh no worries my friend, me casa es su casa...but if you don’t mind me asking, why did you leave the faery’s?”
"He's being an asswod, so I needed to split,” Cole replied, as he grabbed the second-player controller.
"Well don’t worry buddy, things are going to be a lot more fun from here on out,” Vincent chuckled as the two began the massacre on their pixilated enemies.
[/]Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Thursday, 8th March 2007 – 1:15am
Tash lay wide-awake on her back in her bed, eyes staring blankly at the darkened ceiling. It had been such an emotionally draining day, what with the funeral and her confrontation with Galen. But one thing kept coming back to her… Alessa’s description of her time in Paraguay with Chance. It reminded her so much of that holiday she and Victor had taken – when? Almost a year and a half ago, now. Tash shook her head; it seemed like a lifetime ago. And it seemed like yesterday.
Victor had recovered from having been decapitated by the evil entity in the basement, and she herself had only recently healed from the injuries, both physical and emotional, that she’d sustained while in Germany finding Jade. They’d felt the need for a holiday, and they had taken one. It was to be their first and last trip away, if you didn’t count G’rnatha…
31st October 2005
On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air
“Are we there yet?” Tash mock-whined from where she lay in the back of Henna’s Jeep Cherokee. She and Victor had been travelling for three days now without a stop.Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night…
“No,” came Victor’s terse reply, “We aren’t there yet.”
“You know,” she said, crawling forward on hands and knees to peer over Victor’s shoulder, “you might not need to sleep. Or eat. But sleeping in the back of this truck isn’t the most restful experience. I really need a bed.”
Victor unsuccessfully tried to dodge another rut in the road and the Cherokee bucked as it had for the last 900 miles. “This road isn’t helping I’m sure. If I’d known you were going to be so annoying I would not have fallen in love with you.”
Victor playfully reached back to try to stop her from smacking his head. When she did finally connect her yelp of pain indicated she had caught a spine accidentally.
“You are certainly cheerful this morning,” Victor chided her. Victor checked the map and the odometer. “It seems that we are close to Todos Santos. We should be there by 4:00pm. It’s still daylight so we should be there in time for a nice sunset. Fair?”
A grunt was his only reply as Tash turned to watch the view out the window. Endless expanse of grey desert stretched out in the morning light, relieved only by the occasional cactus spearing its way into the sky. This holiday so far hadn’t exactly panned out the way she’d thought. While wilderness was nice, driving through it at speed, barely stopping long enough to grab a bite to eat at various seedy truck stops, was hardly her idea of a good time.
“Mmm, sunset, yeah. Do you think they’ll have a bar? Maybe a band?” Tash asked wistfully.
Victor shrugged, “Don’t know. There is certainly a lot more civilisation down here than there used to be.”
Tash looked incredulously at the back of his head. “Civilisation? Where?”
Victor looked at Tash who did seemed to indicate that she did not think it was possible to have less civilisation. He looked back at the road and said, “If you think this is bad, you should walk across Iraq some time. It’s about as barren as you can get and still call it populated. At least the roads are better here.”
A wooden sign indicated that Todos Santos was sixty miles closer than it had been an hour or so ago. And a faded sign nailed beneath it indicated that the “World Famous” Hotel California would be found there.
“What? Like the song?” Tash laughed. “We have to stay there, Victor. Surely they’ll have some entertainment.” Squirming through the gap in the seats she deposited herself in the passenger seat. “But, darling, I’ve just woken up… any places nearby for coffee and a toilet?”
“You know this trip would be a lot easier if you weren’t so human.” Then he quickly added, “But less interesting.” He pointed to the map, “We can stop in La Paz which is about ten minutes away. Can you wait that long?”
“I’ll cross my legs.”
There she stood in the doorway, I heard the mission bell And I was thinking to myself, ‘This could be Heaven or this could be Hell.’
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them say...
“Welcome to the Hotel California,” the concierge said with a smile.
“Oh, it’s such a lovely place,” Tash gushed to Victor with a wink.
“Such a lovely place,” echoed Victor. Tash had been singing the song for the last hundred miles or so and even though Victor didn’t really know the song well before, he knew it now.
“There are plenty of-”
Victor cut the concierge off with a raised hand. “I got it, “ he said. “We’d like a room for the night. And could you direct us to the bar?”
The concierge was more than accommodating especially after Victor placed a 100-peso note in his hand. He gladly took Victor’s information and promised that he would return with room keys, and would you and your lady like a margarita sir? On the house.
Victor liked the smell of the place. It had a tropical feel. Every inch of the hotel looked like an opulent combination of old world mission and modern southwest style. He leaned over to Tash and said, “I don’t usually like this old styling, it reminds me too much of Paris monasteries and Italian abbeys.”
Tash laughed lightly. Victor loved to hear the relaxed untroubled laughter that only the last couple of days had uncovered. Margaritas arrived as promised and Victor smelled the salt, lime and tequila in the glass. It had a nice smooth smell. He dipped a finger into the bright yellow mix and touched it to his ‘tongue’ then slid the glass closer to Tash.
“So how’s the flavour?” Tash answered her own question by licking the salt off the rim and taking a generous mouthful, swishing it around her mouth before swallowing.
“Ahhhh, that hits the spot.”
Cicadas chirruped through the open windows of the bar, and the balmy evening breeze wafted over them. She sipped more of the delicious margarita. Now this was more like what she had in mind when Victor had suggested Mexico.
She leant back in her chair and watched Victor as he watched their surroundings. The fading light cast the shadow of a palm frond across his face and she found herself caught in her study of him. The dusky sheen of his skin, the way the light glimmered in his deep brown eyes. It was all illusion, of course, but it was a very satisfying illusion. And despite his true appearance Tash didn’t really find it monstrous at all. His gaze travelled back to hers, and he smiled at her as she finished the last sip of her drink.
Her answering smile was warm and full of promise. But she wasn’t quite ready to find that bed just yet. She picked up the second glass that sat before her; pushing her empty glass across the table she said, “Well, that one was yours. Did you like it?”
Victor smiled, “It smelled like anti-freeze. It was smooth and I’m guessing went straight to… um… my head.”
Victor leaned back and breathed in warm, fresh dry air. He could taste the flowers, the trash and the mixed smells of Mexican cuisine from deep in the hotel. There were other smells mixed in with them, but he wasn’t inclined to sort them out right now. He leaned forward and put a hand gently on Tash’s leg. “I hate to talk business, but you have not asked me much about this ‘Foundation’ I’ve been working on.”
Tash traced his hand with her own, looking up at him with her lips still pursed over the rim of the glass. “Well, I figured there wasn’t much to tell – it seems to me it’s mostly just a way for you to make buckets of money. I’ve seen the paperwork in your office: stock reports, sales of artefacts. I’m not interested in that stuff.” Tash shrugged, “All I know is it means I can concentrate on doing my job 24/7. I know you’ve chucked a bit around. Helped Jade rebuild XY, offered some to Daye when the Bibliophile got trashed. Hey, it’s your money – do what you want with it.”
She lifted a foot and rubbed it along the inside of Victor’s leg. “So long as I get to keep the rest of you, I don’t mind,” she smirked.
Victor caught her leg. He wanted her to know. *She has to know now while it’s quiet,* he thought. “The Foundation means a lot to me. I have been on both sides of the battle, Tash. The bulk of my fortune was stolen, cheated, and earned with the blood of innocents. I want to be sure that it will be used as a ransom for the evil I wrought.”
He looked deep into her eyes and said softly, “The threats we have faced in the last year have taught me that some things cannot be backed away from. We can’t always hide and wait for it to blow over. It means being in the fight. And it means we can die. If I die you have to carry on in my place. If you die, my guess is Kate or Daye will take up your sword and charge forward.”
Victor lowered his gaze, “I made a financial package that will sustain growth of what we are doing in LA for many, many years. It may not last two thousand years like I have, but it will buy back some of my guilt.”
Part of the warm bubbly feeling the margaritas had given her evaporated as Tash watched her fiancé’s face display his shame. “I know you can’t change what you’ve done, Victor,” she said, “and that nothing can buy back the lives you destroyed. I want you to be able to lose some of your pain, but this ‘Foundation’ sounds more like you’re trying to create something artificial. It’s what you do that’s important, not what money you can throw at other people.”
Victor sighed, “I know that. But something needs to be an anchor to hold people like you and me to the task. We do what is right, but we don’t seek out the people and resources to make it happen. That is what the Foundation can be. A beacon to other heroes to step forward. Unite. And pool their resources to bolster the next wave.”
Victor smiled, leaned back and said, “Sorry to get all serious, and I don’t want to ruin our fun by dragging work into this, but I wanted to let you know what I was doing, and why.”
Victor turned and looked at the waiter that standing behind him. He had moved so silently, Victor had only been aware of his presence because of his shadow. “Just in case,” Victor murmured.
“Señor, would you care to order?” the man asked in heavily accented English.
Victor indicated Tash, “No tengo hambre. Tal vez mi amiga quiere ordenar algo.”1
“Si, por favor,” he said, holding out a menu to her.
Perusing the menu she was relieved to see that the items had English translations of the Spanish names, and she quickly chose the beef enchiladas and held up her empty glass, signifying that she’d like another. As the waiter left, Tash returned her attention to her lover.
“Ok, so you want a bunch of heroes to be captivated by the promise of endless resources to fight the good fight. But what if it winds up attracting the wrong sort of person, someone who’s only interested in the money and power? I mean, we hunters can be terribly disreputable sometimes, y’know.”
Victor’s mouth tightened; he remembered his meeting with the mysterious Tyler Hyatt. A hero, perhaps, but misguided to say the least. “Yes, there are a few that might be misled. Even organisations like Sindell have had bad leaders from time to time. It can happen. What matters is that the soldiers do the right thing when...”
A scream cut through Victor’s statement. People around him were looking around for the source of the scream. Victor’s battle reflexes had him rising out of his seat toward the bar where a glass had smashed and the sounds of a scuffle emanated.
Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes Benz She’s got a lot of pretty, pretty boys that she calls friends
A throng of people were gathered in the courtyard, and Tash and Victor wormed their way through to see what the commotion was. A string of Spanish invective cut through the murmur of the crowd as they reached the front and the cause became clear. Two women, one grabbing the other by the hair and the other apparently biting the first woman’s arm, brawled in the open space between the palms. The hair-puller slapped the biter, who released her grip on the arm she chewed, leaving a semicircle of indentations.How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget
“Hija de puta!”2 one screamed at the other, and Tash looked at Victor then at the crowd. Nobody was moving forward to stop the fight, instead just standing around gawking. Some of the men were even cheering.
“Screw this,” she said, “Someone’s got to do something.” Dragging Victor by the hand she strode forward to break up the fight, but just as she reached the clear area four men in hotel uniforms rushed to separate the spitting and cursing women. As suddenly as it had begun, the fracas was over, the crowd dispersing back to their tables, and Tash found herself standing in the centre of a near-empty courtyard.
“Bu...”
Victor was feeling a bit like he had witnessed an illusion as tables were righted and glass was swept away efficiently and quickly. Waiters returned like a flock of white-jacketed robots to replace drinks and meals that had been disturbed.
He looked around and saw a bewildered looking man who was searching the room as if he had lost something. The red hand-shaped mark on his face told his tale. “Sofia? Margaretta? Anyone?” he called quietly.
Victor turned back to Tash and pointed behind his hand at the man, “Poor guy. Looks like he had more love to give than one woman could handle. You’d never have to worry about that from me, I’m not the kind of ‘man’ to lose his head over any woman but you.”
Tash couldn’t help but giggle as they made their way back to their own table. “Really?” she asked archly. “What about that chick with all the arms in the basement?” She lifted a hand and traced the now-invisible line that marked where Victor had literally lost his head.
Victor answered with a wry smile and a nod of acquiescence, taking his seat again at their table. As Tash sat, she couldn’t help but notice that their empty glasses had been replaced by new ones, as well as the fresh drink and meal she’d actually ordered. She contemplated her extra drink, and Victor slid his over to join hers, making a total of three drinks and a meal in front of her.
Victor could not help looking back over his shoulder. It was unnervingly clean how it had all just sort of disappeared. In LA, had something like this occurred there would be gossip and discussion about it. Here, it was like people were avoiding the subject.
“It looks suspicious that nobody is talking about the fight. What do you think they are up to?” he asked Tash in a whisper.
Tash shrugged and tasted a forkful of her dinner. “Dunno,” she said, her voice muffled by food, “Maybe they just don’t stress out about stuff the same way people do in the city. Maybe those two fight all the time, and it’s nothing unusual.” She giggled, “Maybe they’re all demons and none of them know how to mimic humans properly yet.”
Victor was getting more and more uneasy, “It’s like it never happened, though. The whole event just evaporated into thin air. Like someone rewound the tape of the day and is playing it all over.” He paused in thought a moment. “Life is sometimes like that like that, isn’t it? You can start over but you’ve already seen what happens. Once you know the ending it has lost all its surprise.”
Tash cocked her head to one side and surveyed Victor. He seemed to be having trouble letting this go. She forced her fuzzy brain to come up with a logical counter-argument, and came out with, “Yeah, but sometimes you get the director’s cut, and they’ve made alternate endings. So you get a different movie. It doesn’t always have the same climax.” An involuntary giggle escaped her lips at her choice of words, but Victor was too caught up in his own musings to notice the pun.
Victor heard her giggle and looked down at the rapidly disappearing third margarita. “I think you’ve had enough of those for a while,” he said before returning to their discussion, “Even though the path to the ending changes, it always works out the same way. The villain comes and ruins it for everyone until the heroes sweep in and save the day. Exit villain swearing eternal vengeance.”
Tash gazed at the dregs of her margarita, then at the two untouched ones still sitting on the table and defiantly reached for her fourth. “It is possible there is no villain. Sometimes he just doesn’t show up.”
“Name once,” he said, gloomily.
So I called up the Captain, ‘Please bring me my wine.’ He said, ‘We haven’t had that spirit here since 1969.’
“Welcome to the Hotel California,” Tash sang loudly as she staggered towards their room. She wasn’t exactly drunk, but she was far from sober. She giggled at Victor’s half-serious look of censure as he inserted the key to their lock. “Wassa matter, love? Am I being too noisy? Maybe I’m too happy – hard for you to feel miserable when everyone’s being happy.”And still those voices are calling from far away
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say...
She leaned against him, rubbing her body against his. “Hmm, I love you. How about we find a way to forget about the bad stuff for a while?”
“Around you I am never miserable,” Victor answered. “I am happy to ignore the evil, but I can never really forget...” Tash was pulling up his shirt and kissing his chest.
Victor scooped her up and she snuggled into his embrace as he fumbled with the entry card in the door. *For tonight, I’ll try to forget the bad stuff,* he thought and she purred in his arms. He laid her gently on the bed and he tugged off his light clothing. The clothes seemed huge in comparison to the chair he tossed them onto, the magic of his glamour making them appear normal only while he was wearing them. Tash laughed gently to herself as he climbed onto the bed and moved to kiss her gently. He undid her shorts and pulled them down while she was tugging her shirt up at the same time.
Silently the two of them undressed side by side until they were naked in the darkness that was lit only by the gentle illumination coming from the courtyard beneath the window. Tash rubbed at Victor’s dark chocolate skin, “There isn’t any sweat...” but he ‘shhhed’ her. This was to be a silent time for them. Talking about the ‘spell’ would ruin the ‘magic’.
Tash’s senses were only slightly hazy from the alcohol, still clear enough to feel the warm smoothness of his skin, smell the musky male scent of him in her nostrils, and taste the spiciness as she kissed and licked his naked chest. She opened her thoughts to him, letting him share in that most intimate communion as they had learned to do, to let him fully experience their lovemaking. She felt him brush against her soul and let herself get lost in the sensations he was eliciting with his soft caresses and lingering kisses.
Her hands mirrored his: as he stroked along her bare flank so she stroked his. As he bent to kiss the pulse at her neck, so she nuzzled him. Soon they were both lost in the taste and touch of each other, the connection they shared serving to provide feedback, doubling and tripling their pleasure.
The silence was broken, finally, by Tash’s soft moans as she could no longer contain the surges of excitement arrowing through her body. Her back arched against Victor’s exploring hands and tongue and she longed to reach that moment of perfection.
Victor smiled at the feeling she relayed to him. He had been deep within her psyche and he knew there was a part of her sexual climax that he would never feel, but he was grateful for the waves of intense emotion and ripples of sensation that emanated from her. As she began to shudder and shake involuntarily, he had to focus to keep from rolling onto the floor in sympathetic convulsions. *Wow, you really rode that one in,* he thought as he kissed her while she panted on the bed exhausted.
*Ssshh, stop patting yourself on the back and kiss me,* she thought back in the fading rapport and pulled him to her lips. He could smell her pheromone-laced sweat and taste the sweet-salty fluid in her mouth.
“I love you,” he said.
She smiled. “I thought I said to be quiet,” she admonished, kissing him again.
She lay back with him, enjoying the quiet aftermath of their exertions. If anything, this was the moment she loved most - the languid warmth suffusing her body, the feel and smell of Victor beside her. A hot wind blew aside the curtains, the breeze playing over the cooling sweat on Tash’s body, and she watched lazily as Victor stirred and moved to open the balcony doors.
He walked naked to the edge of the filigreed balcony. The lights from below effectively obscured him from below but he could see the couples below dancing to the gentle guitar music and enjoying the moment. He looked back into the room and saw how his shadow cut across the bed and Tash’s body looking so frail and human to him. He could see her face in the dimness of the room, his night vision enhancing the scene.
She cocked her head as if to ask a question but he held up a hand. “No, nothing is wrong. I just keep expecting something to go horribly wrong any instant. But it looks clear.” *For now,* came the unbidden thought.
Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice And she said ‘We are all just prisoners here of our own device.’
Dressed in a light summer frock that fluttered around her legs in the morning sea breeze, Tash surveyed the view from the deck, admiring the way the sun glinted off the fountain in the courtyard. A dark arm snaked around behind her head, holding a soft, orange ball that gleamed with wetness. She opened her mouth to accept the piece of cantaloupe, sucking the juice from Victor’s fingers before he retracted his arm to find the next delicacy for her.And in the master’s chambers they gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can’t kill the beast
Leaning back into his embrace she sighed in utter contentment. “I do like it here,” she said, “but weren’t you saying that we can go sailing at Cabo San Lucas?”
He kissed the top of her head and said, “We can do anything we want. We are on vacation and despite my feelings that evil is rampant in this idyllic paradise, I think we can risk leaving these fine folks to their fate and drive to Cabo San Lucas to go sailing.”
She sucked another pink bit of watermelon from his fingers and shook her head at his silliness. It was made all the more silly to her because it was a nine-foot cockroach telling the joke. Victor for his part continued to play the smitten lover. His wry comments notwithstanding he was beginning to lighten up. After months of pain and death and the endangerment of his loved ones and friends it was hard to let go of the feeling of impending doom.
A crash from the kitchen caused them both to jump, and Victor dropped a bit of green melon down Tash’s light cotton shirt in his haste to rescue...
“Sit down,” Tash laughed at Victor, who poised half out of his chair, ready to face whatever life-threatening crisis had erupted. “There isn’t evil afoot everywhere we go, you know. We’re on vacation. Look…”
She pointed to the cause of the disturbance. A waiter had dropped a tray of plates and food at the kitchen door. A swarm of staff came in like blowing leaves in a hurricane and whisked it away from sight. Victor sat back down and turned to Tash.
Then he shoved his hand down the front of Tash’s dress, eliciting a squeal of protest from her. A moment later it emerged, triumphantly clutching the lost melon ball. “There,” he said. “The evil has reared its ugly head. Let’s go sailing.”
Last thing I remember, I was running for the door I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
‘Relax’ said the night man, ‘We are programmed to receive.
You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.’
Footnotes:
[/][/][/][/][/][/]1 “I’m not hungry. Maybe my friend would like to order something.”
2 “Daughter of a whore!”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Thursday 8th March, 2007
1:33am
Jacky D’s.
Kyle slipped onto a bar stool, nodding towards the rows of liquor kept on the other side. “Beer,” he said, simply, sliding an ash tray from further down the bar towards him and taking out a cigarette. It wasn’t until he had flicked his zippo open and held it poised before the cigarette in his lips that he noticed there was no bottle placed in front of him.
He glanced up at the barman, still holding his zippo alight without touching the flame to the cigarette. The barman, rippling with muscles, simply crossed his arms and stared at Kyle. Even in the dark light of the dingy bar, Kyle could see his blank stare.
Sighing, Kyle flicked the lighter closed and took the cigarette out of his mouth without looking at it. “Look, I’m old enough to know this is the type of place where you don’t care how old I am as long as I pay.” He waved one of Billy Bob’s ten dollar bills. “And, yeah, I’m paying. So gimme a beer.”
Finally relenting at the sight of the bill, the barman turned to get Kyle his drink. When he placed the glass back on the table, Kyle already had the cigarette lighted and was taking long drags on it.
“Shouldn’t blow all ya cash on booze, man,” a voice said to him.
“Shouldn’t take advice from strangers,” Kyle replied in a frosty tone without looking in direction of the voice.
“Aw, dat hurts,” the voice continued. “I ain’t no stranger, bro.”
Familiarity dawned on Kyle’s face. He looked across his shoulder to his left. A guy about his age, dark skinned and bald, was beaming down at him. A guy he knew. A three-quarter length dark leather coat hung over him like a second skin. The coat was new, Kyle hadn’t seen it on him before, and from the looks of it, no more than a few weeks old, but already looking battered.
Kyle winced and shook his head, stumping out his cigarette. “No, no, no. You’ve got to be screwing with me.” He got up and slapped down some change on the bar, then started walking away.
“Hey, hey! Bro! Wait up!”
Kyle ignored his cries and stormed out of the dingy bar into the equally dingy street. He didn’t know where he was going, but anywhere was sounding good.
“Bro! Will ya jus’ wait de hell up-” The man caught up with Kyle, and grabbed him by the shoulder to get him to stop.
Using the momentum, Kyle slugged the guy right in the face. He fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, rubbing his head. “Wha…Wha’ was dat fer, bro?”
“Get the hell away from me, Hayden.” Kyle said down to him, his eyes burning with an intense fury. “I have nothing to say to you, want nothing to do with you, and there is nothing you can possibly say to me to stop me beating you to within an inch of your life. The only thing that’ll stop me doing that is distance, so I say again: get the hell away from me.” He suited action to words by turning back on the sprawled figure.
“I’m sorry, man,” Hayden called to his retreating back, after a few seconds. “Sorry ‘bout what happened ‘n dat…”
Kyle ignored him and carried on walking. He meant what he said. When those vampires started ripping through them all that time ago, when people like Hayden had been dropping like flies, caught unarmed and surprised, ripped apart and slaughtered where they stood… He had known there was only one thing he could have done to save as many as possible.
And in return, people like Hayden had thrown it right back in his face, falling on him with fists, feet, baseball bats… He still remembered the pain, physical and emotional, still remembered feeling so lost and bewildered… Betrayed.
Kyle shook his head and lit another cigarette to try and wipe it all away. Seeing Hayden was bringing it all back; the helplessness, the confusion, it was all starting to flood back again. He could feel it rising up to consume him.
And it’d only get worse the more he saw Hayden, or any of his so-called ‘new family and friends’. He’d only be returned to that state, and he wouldn’t go there. No way. He was damned-well determined not to. Whatever Hayden wanted could be nowhere as important as Kyle staying away from him. That would let him bury it again… hide it… run away from it…
Not looking where he was going, not realising his sight had blurred slightly from tears, Kyle walked into somebody. “Uh, sorry-” he began, before looking up at that somebody’s face.
“Oh, believe me pal. You’re the one who’s going to be sorry,” the vampire said to him.
The events and thoughts and feelings of the last few minutes washed away. Looking the vampire in the eye and reaching for his stake, Kyle began to smile.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Thursday 8th March, 2007
2:01am
The vampire had Kyle round the neck from behind, tightening his hold to cut off Kyle’s air. A professional wrestler in life, and undoubtedly the supernatural equivalent in unlife Kyle reckoned, he was a bear of a man with one muscled arm around his neck, the other pinning his own arms at his side.
This was it. He was reaching the point were time slowed, where sight and sound and thought snapped into focus on the immediate surroundings. Where everything was merely a matter of life and death, of going on or ending. Nothing else mattered.
His veins flowed with adrenaline, filling him with strength, clearing his mind of any irrelevant thought, freeing him from the constraints of day to day life. The rush took him beyond living, it redefined living.
And he knew how to win.
Kyle savoured the moment a little while longer. Then, letting himself smile, Kyle focused on his inner fire. As he put it, he turned the flame on.
His skin darkened to obsidian, hardening as well. His clothes melted away, Kyle wasn’t sure what happened to them, whether they slipped into a state of ‘flux’ for a while or something, and he didn’t really care. Fire burned in his eyes, and his fingertips and toes lit, whilst his skull cracked down the middle, and a greater fire erupted from there. Finally his tail, long and powerful, sprouted from behind.
“Oh, shi-” the vampire managed to get out, his eyes widening, before Kyle’s fire set him alight, and burnt him to ashes in seconds.
Kyle caught his breath for a moment, then slipped back into his human form.
“Now dat was sweet,” a voice from behind him said. Kyle whirled, a stake raised, to face Hayden. “Woah, woah, dude.” He motioned with his hands, backing away. “Let’s drop de pointy wood of death, here.”
Kyle kept the stake up. “I said, get the hell away from me. What part of that don’t you understand?”
“Look, dude. Just here me out, ‘k? Five minutes man, dat’s all I’m askin’ for.”
Kyle considered this, then lowered the stake. “You’ve got two.”
“Okay, okay, I can work with two.” Hayden paused, choosing his words carefully, and licked his lips. He didn’t meet Kyle’s gaze. “Right, now man, I jus’ wanna say, all the crap dat happened to ya, dat was shit. No way did ya deserve dat. I mean, ya were fightin’ vampires as hard and as bad as de rest of us, so’s in my book dat made you safe, ya know? What dey all did, that was jus’… Man, that jus’ sucked balls big time.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” Kyle said slowly and coldly. “Clock’s ticking.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. But listen, dude. I had nothin’ to do wit dat-”
Kyle snorted in amusement. “Really? Because I had several bruises that say otherwise.”
“Yeah, yeah dat’s fair,” Hayden nodded sadly. “But, dat was jus’ to keep ma rep, ya know? Couldn’t look like a pussy or nothin’ in front o’ de guys.”
“Of course.” Kyle rolled his eyes.
Hayden ignored him. “Anyway, I felt real bad about dat. And… and I tried to stand up for you ‘n shit, but they wouldn’t take it. ‘Demon-lover’, they called me.” He looked down and away. “And dey kicked me out.”
“Boo-hoo.”
“So, I know how it feels, man. I know how crap it must be-”
“Time’s up,” Kyle interjected, and turned to walk away. Hayden’s words were getting too close for comfort.
Hayden ran to keep up with him. “My bro, he lives here in LA. I came down eventually, and… and he’s in trouble, man. A bunch o’ vamps have a score to settle wit de gang he’s runnin’ wit. Lots of vamps. Dey ain’t done nothin’ yet, but I gets da feelin’ sommin’ big’s goin’ down soon, an’ I don’t think many of us are gonna make it through…”
Kyle stopped walking and looked over his shoulder to Hayden. “Now, seein’ hows ya good in a fight ‘n all, I was, well, kinda wonderin’ if ya could, ya know, give us a little help?”
Kyle considered this. On the one hand, there were vampires to fight. And for Hayden, a man who’d never asked for help in his life, to come to him, there must be lots. On the other, this was one of the people who had betrayed him so deeply, who spat in his face for his help. Who was bringing back shit he didn't want to go back to. Would he, could he, help him?
“Sorry,” Kyle replied at length, looking away, though his voice contained no trace of sorrow. “Not in the business of helping.”
Without looking back, Kyle walked into the night. Hayden remained watching him for a while, then sighed and went on his way.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Thursday 8th March, 2007
2:41am
Guest appearance by Christian Bale as Jonathan the cop.
The rain had finally stopped pouring down over the dark city. Lightning continued to flash in the sky, however, as thunder boomed every moment or so, shattering the otherwise eerie quiet of the night. The streets were deserted, with the exception of a few cars that drove down the roads. Although most people didn’t usually prefer to be outside during such stormy weather.
On one of the rooftops, however, one person stood, or crouched would be the more appropriate term, his long trench coat billowing in the wind. He was a man of medium height, and his frame was covered in all black. Black steel-toed combat boots, black tight-fitting pants, a black button-up cotton shirt, and a trench coat.
It was better when he kept his eyes closed. If he didn’t see, then sometimes, time itself would hurry by. In the silence of the darkness he sometimes would not think of the things he had done. Without seeing he wouldn’t have to wonder if his actions had been righteous, the will of Father. Yet, when time would crawl, these were the very things that would haunt him during the hours where everyone else in LA would be sleeping a thoughtless and dreamless sleep.
Breathing deeply he turned to his head to the side, resting his hands on his aching head. Tonight, time was slow, giving his mind plenty of time to think about the assault he'd led in the early morning hours. He could see the faces of the men as they tried to grab objects that were insignificant yet totally illegal. He could still smell the stench of the items being burned in the middle of the building and the sickly sweet fragrance of the spilled blood of the Russians. As he lay in the dark, with his eyes closed he suddenly began to feel panicked. For a moment, he thought he had forgotten how to breathe and that he would suffocate.
Monk sighed. He had always been a solider in one form or another; even when he was a kid he was fighting the good fight, sticking up for the weaker kids. But when you become a real solider the lines become blurred. There is no longer any good guys or bad guys, it's just guys in suits with a lot of money giving life or death orders. Monk looked down into the streets below and watched the people scurry around, not knowing what monsters were out there.
Monk looked into the sky and made a quick prayer for everyone he had ever killed, even the ones who deserved it...
Bosnia 1995
The door shredded under fire like so much paper, reduced to splinters. Guns drawn, he strode into the apartment, every sense on the alert for sound or movement that would betray the position of his quarry. The entryway was empty and silent, but he was stopped in his tracks by the smell of the place. Rich and coppery, warm against the back of the tongue. It was a scent he was familiar with, though it was odd to encounter it not mixed with the hot smell of weapons fire.
Blood.
He signalled to Walters to back him up as he walked further into the apartment. Lights flickered, giving everything surreal flashes of shadow, and the floor crunched underfoot with broken glass and chunks of plaster. The sterile white walls of the place were no longer clean, painted liberally with slashes of red.
He was used to blood and violence. Every solider was. Still, something about the situation brought a burst of adrenalin to his system, making his heart beat faster. All that prevented his hands from shaking was force of will.
The hallway took a ninety-degree turn, toward the apartment's single bedroom. He rounded the corner with unusual caution, fingers tight on the trigger.
It was a charnel house in a single room. Furniture was broken and overturned, sheets ripped, clothes scattered across the floor. All was coated with blood, slowly turning rusty.
In the centre of it all knelt a woman, her shirt torn and hanging from one shoulder, exposing an expanse of blood spattered breast. She swayed back and forth, humming tunelessly under her breath as she tenderly stroked the object that lay in her lap.
It was a child's head. Or at least had been at some point.
The woman looked up at Douglas and smiled, then said in a perfectly conversational tone, "She knows it makes me angry. The little bitch needs to learn to clean her room when I ask her to. It's so frustrating when your ungrateful brats won't listen to a word you say." Then with great deliberation, she picked up the red-slicked knife that lay on the ground nearby, and began to saw off the corpse's ear.
The fire that had been so dull in Douglas' belly before finally broke free. He aimed his pistol at the woman’s chest and fired. As he body slumped to the floor Douglas realized he hadn’t killed her. He moved slowly over to her dying body, bent down to her and she whispered into his ear. Monk looked into her eyes and fired again. This time she wouldn’t be able to talk.
The last words of the woman echoed thought Douglas' head: She had thanked him for killing her. Douglas walked out of the house and looked around the war-torn village and he thought hard about everything.
*Humans… humans have done all this, not demons, not monsters, not the worst creatures you could ever think of. Humans with souls have done this … solders like me. Humans raped that poor woman and murdered her child in front of her...* And it wasn’t just happening here, it was happening all over this country. He had done numerous missions for his government which meant he had to kill these evil demons. But every time he went into a war zone he was reminded that it was humans who were the real monsters.
Two hours ago.
Jonathan was just a cop doing his job. He had accepted that he would be put in dangerous situations and he accepted that there would be a lot of bad people who wouldn’t like him for his job, but he had obviously gotten on the wrong side of these people because you just didn’t kidnap a cop in LA, never mind kill one. There was an unwritten rule with cops: you fuck with one you fuck with them all, because next time just maybe it could be you that they are fucking with.
Jonathan looked around the warehouse. The Russians obviously owned this because it was filled with knock off cartons of smokes, TVs, DVD players and all sorts of stolen stuff. The biggest Russian walked slowly up and down, trying hard to make himself seem even more intimating and as much as Jonathan hated to admit it he was shitting himself.
The Russian walked up and slammed him fist hard into Jonathan's face, drawing blood from his lip. The Russian slammed his fist into his face again and began to scream at Jonathan. “Now, you fucking pig, tell me 'hoo t'e fuck else knows about t'e drugs!”
Jonathan thought about defiantly spitting his blood in the Russian's face and shouting 'God bless America', but the truth is when you have been tortured even in a mild sense for the past six hours you really start to break down. He was dangerously close to telling him that his
partner was the only who knew anything, even though that was a lie because he was the only one who knew anything but the Russians didn’t seem to accept that.
“I already told you I was the only one here when the pass off took place.”
The big Russian got infuriated at this and punched Jonathan several more times. “Do you t'ink ve are honestly t'at stupid, cop? Ve know you skum alvays do t'ings in pairs. Now 'hoo is your partner?”
The big Russian went into his coat pocket, pulled out a pistol, pointed it at Jonathan and screamed in his face, “T'is is your last chance you streak of piss!”
The Russian's screaming was cut short by his face exploding in a hail of blood and bone. From out of nowhere two black-clad bodies dropped down from the rafters onto the warehouse floor. The remaining Russians drew their pistols and submachine guns and opened fired upon the commando-like men. Both men stepped in front of Jonathan to act as a human shield, and both men in unison pulled up their FA MAS Shorties, firing upon the Russians. Several of the Russians got hit in the fray and slumped to the floor. The remaining Russians bounced behind crates but realized too late there was a third commando strafing from crate to crate, taking out anything that moved.
Jonathan looked at the commandos and he instantly knew they weren’t SWAT from the manner in which they entered, the heavy body armour and the French rifles they were using.
“Who are you guys?”
The biggest built of the three men walked behind Jonathan and untied him while the man who had dropped down with the biggest of the commandos spoke, “We are your guardian angels, Jonathan. Now please do us a favour and only go places with your partner - we could do without you getting killed.”
The three commandos turned from Jonathan and walked towards the door. The biggest one turned to look at Jonathan with a smirk across his face.
James turned back to Monk and Skippy and spoke. “He's definitely one of us.”
Just Another Story
Wednesday, 7 March 2007 – 7:45pm
Kate looked around the deserted kitchen as Galen said goodbye to the remainder of their guests. Plenty of people had offered to stay behind and help clean up, but then it hadn’t seemed so overwhelming when the house had been full of people. Now it was empty it looked terrible. Half empty plates and glasses seemed to litter almost every available surface and the table was still covered with trays. Plenty of food had been leftover despite Joshua’s careful calculations; he’d obviously greatly overestimated.
Tucking her hair behind her ears Kate busied herself wrapping up the dozens of superfluous crudités and mushroom vol-a-vents and placing them in the refrigerator. That taken care of she began clearing the glasses and plates, stacking them neatly by the sink where a bowl of hot soapy water was already filling up.
Galen smiled and closed the front door as the last guests departed. Jack was giving the three witches from Sindell a ride to their hotel and would be gone at least a couple of hours depending on the state of the traffic, giving him the ideal opportunity to try and talk to Kate like he’d promised. Taking a deep, calming breath to steady his nerves Galen turned back into the house.
Kate was still busy clearing away the dirty crockery when she suddenly stopped, tilting her head slightly as she sensed Galen enter the room. She carefully placed the stack of plates that she held in her hands down on the counter.
“You can come in, you know,” she said quietly, slowly turning to face him. “Or is this the closest you’re willing to get to me these days?”
Galen winced at her harsh tone though he knew he deserved it, considering the truth that lay behind her words. Still, he couldn’t help hovering in the doorway like a shy child, though he knew this was going to be every bit as hard as he’d imagined.
“Kate…” he began gently, his hands joined in a fidgetous display of nerves. “I was hoping that… well I was thinking maybe we should… …you know? Talk or something…”
Kate narrowed her eyes at Galen, a hard frown covering her forehead. “Oh, you want to talk now do you? How nice for you.” She could hear the vitriol in her words but she couldn’t hold it back. For days she’d been bottling up her own anger and suffering – unable to talk to Galen about it, and now that he suddenly felt like talking she was supposed to be okay with everything that he’d done?
“You humiliated me today, do you realise that? You ruined our daughter’s funeral, the only day we had to say goodbye-” Kate stopped suddenly, feeling frustrated tears well up in her eyes. “Why did you have to hit that man? I know we have issues but couldn’t you just control yourself for one afternoon?”
Kate fell silent suddenly, waiting for Galen to say something. Part of her was already feeling remorseful for attacking him before he’d had a chance to speak and she bit her lower lip in regret hoping that she hadn’t just well and truly put her foot in it.
“I know… I’m,” Galen looked away uneasily and sighed, digging his hands deep into his trouser pockets. He did feel bad for what had happened today, especially punching Ellis and the extra pain he’d caused his wife on an already difficult day. “I am sorry,” he continued, taking a few tentative steps into the kitchen, “I really am.”
Kate watched Galen warily. His sudden gentle tone came as a bit of a shock after the last seven days. She’d half expected him to either shout at her in retaliation or just slink off somewhere. Yet here he was, seemingly contrite, apologetic… His voice even had a soft, calm quality as though he actually meant what he said this time rather than just going through the motions of politeness.
“Oh…” she said after a stunned moment of silence, folding her arms over her chest defensively, “Well yes… you should be.”
Galen smiled awkwardly at her surprise, taking several more steps towards her though managing to hang back behind the kitchen table. He looked down, toying with the edge of the linen tablecloth. “You’re right, it was a stupid thing to do.”
“Thank the gods Tash and Koyla were here to stop it getting any worse,” Kate added gently, also directing her gaze away from the awkward confinement of her husband.
Galen nodded in agreement. He’d been so angry, he wasn’t even sure how far he might have taken his rage out on Acton Ellis. That thought scared him more than he was willing to admit, especially considering his anger had been directed towards his wife. Galen ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it up in the process as he tried to sort out his ragged emotions. He would never hurt Kate, he’d rather die than raise a hand to her and yet he had felt so much anger!
In his heart he knew why he’d felt that way, triggered by the conversation he’d heard in the hallway. Even Tash had hit the nail on the head, forcing him to admit it finally to himself. He blamed Kate for Emma dying, but Galen knew he’d have to think that through in much more detail before he even thought about mentioning to Kate.
He sighed again; maybe Tash was right, it wasn’t that he had to tell her everything, just something. Enough to keep her happy- no, enough to make sure he didn’t completely ruin his marriage.
“I just… I…” he began slowly, gently easing down those high barriers he’d built over the past few days. “ …I feel…”
Kate frowned with unbridled curiosity, her eyes narrowing as she tried to see through that hard, uncompromising exterior that Galen had built up around himself. She could feel his pain and anguish but that only made her own frustration worse since he wouldn’t let her help ease it for him. She waited patiently for Galen to continue but finally, when she couldn’t take the silence any longer she opened her mouth to speak.
“Tell me,” she prompted him gently, moving closer to lessen the space between them, “What do you feel?”
Galen shook his head and sighed deeply, “I don’t know… I, I wish I could explain it. I feel… so… lost, I guess… lonely. You have Jack and all your friends and I just feel like-” He stopped speaking again and hung his head dejectedly, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down.
Kate didn’t even realise she’d been holding her breath while Galen had been speaking until she felt a tight pain in her chest. Slowly she breathed out and in again until she could feel her rapid heartbeat begin to slow to its regular rhythm.
Gently she moved and knelt by his side as he sat, placing a comforting hand just above his knee and squeezing softly. “You’re not alone,” she said quietly, her voice only just holding together against the mangle of emotions churning inside her. “You hear me?” she asked softly, her voice little more than a breathless sigh, “You don’t ever have to be alone Galen, I am here for you if you’ll let me be.”
Galen closed his eyes tightly and shook his head in dismay. “You… you don’t understand!” he exclaimed, rising to his feet and pacing the kitchen floor – leaving Kate still kneeling by the side of the chair where he’d been sitting. “If you knew how I felt, the things I’m feeling… you wouldn’t be so desperate to help me.”
“How can you say that!?” Kate asked in surprise, watching Galen as he continued his agitated pacing. She climbed to her feet and took hold of his hands as he passed her, holding them tightly against her breast. “You’re my husband, I love you. There’s nothing you could say that would make me feel any differently.”
Carefully she wound her left hand into Galen’s, pressing their fingers together. The last rays of sunlight that cascaded in through the kitchen windows gleamed off the two platinum wedding bands. “Do you remember what we had inscribed inside these rings?” she asked firmly.
Galen nodded solemnly, feeling the strength of those words burning into his flesh as they spoke now. “Amor te in hac vita et ultraque.”
Kate nodded, her eyelids dipping in time to the syllables, “I love thee in this life and beyond.” She held their hands tighter together. “I took my vows to you seriously, we are bound together by all that I hold most precious, by everything that is sacred.”
She looked up at him with tired, woeful eyes, brushing back a lock of hair that had fallen across Galen’s forehead. “Look at everything we’ve been through just to get this far, demons, government conspiracies – after all that, do you think I’d let this pull us apart?”
“I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted quietly, hardly able to look Kate in the face. He felt like scum, complete and utter scum! Here she was telling him how much she loved him, reiterating their wedding vows and he was harbouring such dark thoughts against her.
“You think you can get rid of me so easily?” Kate smiled weakly, continuing to run her fingers through his hair. “You won’t lose me Galen, I’m not going anywhere… not without you.”
Galen’s head hung sadly, he felt so ashamed of himself he could barely speak. Kate’s words should have offered him unmeasurable comfort and yet all he could think about was his behaviour earlier, the things Tash had said to him...
“I will not stand by and watch while you tear yourself apart, and take her with you. Maybe you won’t even admit it to yourself yet, but somewhere in there, you know why you’re acting the way you are. You know why you’ve got conflicting feelings of love and hate for your wife. You know why you blame her for Emma’s death. Think about that for a minute. Think about WHY you feel like this.”
He closed his eyes momentarily and just let Kate hold him in her arms. If only he DID know why he felt that way! He let himself rest his head against her shoulder, his own arms wrapping around her thin, frail body – he found himself frowning at that. *When did she grow so thin?* he thought to himself; it was like he could feel every bone in her body.
“I’m sorry…” he moaned pitifully into her shoulder, holding her close, feeling suffused with her love and concern. “I’m sorry I’m so fucking screwed up Kate!”
Kate ‘hmmmmed’ contentedly, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the closeness of their embrace. It felt like such a long time since he had held her. The past couple of days had seemed like an eternity, cold and empty without her love to help her along the way. But none of that mattered she decided suddenly, rubbing her cheek against the side of Galen’s head gently. If they were together she could cope with anything.
“As if I’m any better,” she said with a slight, awkward chuckle. It felt wrong somehow to laugh when their baby was dead, and silently Kate wondered if laughter would ever come naturally again.
Galen pulled away gently, looking down into Kate’s beautiful blue eyes, “What do you mean?”
“Oh Galen…” Her voice was so soft and kind it was like a caress in itself, “Do you think I’m coping with any of this?” She ran her hand against his cheek in slow, comforting strokes. “I can barely force myself to get up in the morning… and when I do it’s like… I’m not really here anyway. Just… going through the motions… remembering to breathe in and out, somehow one day seems to pass into another. That’s the only way I can keep going, because I know that maybe one day I’ll wake up and six months might have passed. I won’t know how I got there, how I managed to survive so long, but I’ll feel less pain that day than I do right now.”
Galen frowned numbly, moving his hands so that he could trail them through Kate’s loose curls. “I don’t imagine ever feeling like that. I think that’s my biggest fear, that I won’t be able to let go… ever.”
“You don’t have to let go,” Kate turned her head up to face him and held his gaze, her hand still caressing his cheek. “But grief is funny like that, one day it’s all you can think about and the next, it’s like it just… got lost. It’s still there if you look for it and some days it just sort of hits you, when you least expect it. But for the most you just learn to live with that pain and after a while it doesn’t seem to bother you as much.”
Kate smiled affectionately, “We’ve both lost people we’ve loved in the past, we both know how this is supposed to play out. That’s why… there’s no use fighting it you see? We can’t punish ourselves for what happened… and believe me I wanted to.”
Galen suddenly felt something inside snap to attention and his hold on Kate tightened in response. “You... blamed yourself?”
“Of course I did,” Kate said softly. “I wondered if there was something I could have done, should have done. I should have noticed she was ill sooner, I should have tried harder to heal her… anything! I should have found a way to save her…”
Galen couldn’t believe what he was hearing, it was like she’d read his mind and was playing Devil’s Advocate to thoughts he’d barely dared to think himself. But no – he couldn’t believe that. Surely she wouldn’t be so calm if she knew – she couldn’t. Besides, he’d never believed magic was the way to save Emma, no… quite the opposite.
“I had no idea you felt that way,” he said instead, letting his gaze become indirect, looking through her rather than at her.
“It’s not like you’ve been around much to find out – I, I didn’t mean that as a criticism,” Kate added quickly, the last thing she wanted was to start an argument when things were going so well. She didn’t know what Tash and Nikolai had said to him when they took him aside but it must have worked. She would have to make sure to thank them.
“I just meant that… you haven’t been here a lot recently, I mean-”
“I know, it’s okay,” said Galen through gritted teeth, trying his best not to let her slip make him snap back into his earlier malady. “You’re right, I haven’t been around much lately, just another one of those things I should apologise for…”
Kate could hear a sting of bitterness to Galen’s words though it was obvious he was trying to hide it. *Okay, a subject to steer clear of I guess,* she thought to herself. “We all have our ways of dealing with things. If you need time on your own I understand. It must be quite difficult I guess,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
Again Galen could feel a niggle of doubt creeping into his mind at Kate’s words. “What do you mean, ‘difficult’?” he asked warily.
“Well, I just meant… with you being at work all day, it must be difficult to find time for yourself…” Kate’s eyes searched Galen’s face as his previous amiable expression seemed to melt away suddenly and he let his hold on her loosen considerably. “What’s wrong? Did I say something-?”
“-No, nothing,” cut in Galen harshly, releasing Kate completely and turning away, biting the end of his thumb in contemplation. Could it be possible that Jack had told her about his suspension? Her calm exterior would say no but then it just seemed too coincidental that she should bring it up. Maybe… maybe she was waiting to catch him in a lie.
“Galen, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Kate insisted, not liking the sudden downturn their conversation had taken. “I just meant that if you need more time alone I understand. You shouldn’t feel afraid to just say when you want some space…” She approached him cautiously, wrapping an arm around his torso and resting her head against his back. “Just know that I’m here for you when you need me.”
Galen closed his eyes and sighed, holding on to the arm that circled his body from behind. He was glad that she couldn't look at him now, couldn’t see the horrified and guilty look in his eyes.
“Hmmm, I’m glad you decided to talk to me,” *Finally.* “When Jack leaves tomorrow it’ll be just the two of us, we need to be able to pull together.”
“Yeah, I know.” Galen continued to stroke Kate’s hand though his mind was racing. Jack was leaving early the next day for an emergency conference in Virginia with other Alliance delegates and several members of The Order of Valor - something about renegotiating the treaty if he remembered correctly. He hadn’t really been paying attention after Jack mentioned that it might take anything from a few days to a couple of weeks. Apparently Alaric’s organisation was notorious for its tough negotiating strategies.
“Well how about we pull together to get the washing-up done?” he joked, turning around and giving Kate a half-hearted smile.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Kate smiled in return, kissing Galen lightly on the lips before turning back to the daunting task of cleaning.
Slow and Steady Wins the Race
Thursday, 8 March 2007 – 11:23pm - An Undisclosed Location Just Outside LA
“I am not saying that I disagree with the way you are running things, what I meant was that I’m sick of this ceaseless waiting!”
Aimes Carmichael sighed deeply, lighting up a broad cigar and puffing away contentedly as his colleague proceeded to rant. When he finally calmed himself Aimes smiled in satisfaction and removed the cigar from his mouth. “Finished?”
It took all of Michael Gemmel’s strength to restrain himself from giving his ‘fellow’ work colleague a well deserved thrashing – anything to wipe that smug grin from his face. “When I was Director of Special Projects-”
“-When you were director,” interrupted Carmichael sternly, “your entire operation was infiltrated, months of careful planning and meticulous research were destroyed and millions of pounds worth of equipment was lost! Need I remind you that Valerian and that band of hunters almost extinguished your miserable existence? You were lucky that Professor Zimmerman even allowed you in on this; be assured it is only because of your previous experience in dealing with these… White Hats that you haven’t been demoted to bathroom attendant back at HQ!”
“And need I remind you,” shot back Gemmel with a waggle of his index finger, “that I risked my life coming back here at all! It was lucky for me that Valerian and Mr Barrington had other concerns…”
“The latter of those two will hardly be a burden to you now Mr Gemmel,” chuckled Aimes, inhaling on his cigar again, “and as for Valerian, we’ve received sightings of him in Hong Kong… along with his daughter.”
Gemmel’s face contorted into a look of complete abhorrence. After all the work he’d put into the Jaydn Lee case, cultivated and nurtured the vile half-breed for days and just when it had begun to look like he was getting somewhere, in had charged those hunters to wreck everything. It had taken months to scrub those walls back in Bremen clean of all the bloodshed.
“Jadyn Lee…” he growled discontentedly, slumping down into a leather armchair. He would like nothing better than to see that woman cut into tiny pieces and her organs placed in his specimen jars.
“Let it go,” said Aimes firmly, letting perfect rings of cigar smoke halo above him. “Failure is never the end so long as we learn from it. Be patient, the fruits of this particular endeavour will be harvested in good time. Things are already falling into place.”
“The Eldridge child died last week…”
“Just the first piece of a larger picture, the rest is soon to follow.”
“And what of the reports we’ve had of Ambrose Delancre? The demoness Alessandra Hunt escaped from the compound on Isla Nublada and arrived back in Los Angeles at the beginning of this month… and if the rumours are to be believed she carried the Hyde virus with her. We’ve no idea how many people she has already infected with Delancre’s disease.”
Carmichael’s grin widened and he placed the cigar between his lips again, “Yes… yes… This proves to be most interesting indeed…”
Gemmel sighed, “But the woman! If she is infected-”
“It has already been taken care of, or had you not noticed?” Carmichael chuckled again, leaning forwards and tapping the thick grey ash from his cigar into a crystal tray. “Mr Trask gave us the perfect excuse to inspect our quarry. I believe the Professor administered the Hyde antidote to Ms Eldridge before we departed; she should be more than sufficiently protected.”
“So long as Delancre doesn’t have any more surprises up his sleeve.”
Aimes poured out two large brandies and smiled, nudging one glass over to Gemmel. “Which is why we are still here. To your good health!”
Gemmel picked up his glass, raising the tumbler to his mouth, “And to the success of The Project.”
Aimes nodded in accord before swallowing the smooth liquid in one gulp. “Assured.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
March 9th
The Waldorf Hotel
5:05 am
Ellis couldn't sleep. His body knew that he needed to, but he couldn't convince his mind of the fact. His head ached and he felt overheated. *I must've gotten a cold,* he thought after another twirl in the bed. Resigned, he got up and walked down to the living room of the hotel suite, tugging his black silk robe a bit tighter around him as he felt it loosen with his long strides.
He stopped abruptly at the feeling of another presence. He glanced around him and made his way to the huge bathroom and the walk-in closet that was equally big. To his surprise, he found them all empty. He was alone. He glanced up; the presence he had felt was gone.
"Hello? Is there anyone here?" As soon as he said it, Ellis chuckled at his foolishness. Of course there was no one here. *That still doesn't explain the presence you felt,* a nagging voice at the back of his head casually informed him. He pushed it away, becoming irritated because the voice sounded annoyingly close to Mike’s.
He shook his head slightly and made his way to the elegant bar. He opened the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of scotch. He was tempted to pull out the cork and take a long pull right then and there, but he controlled himself. He took a crystal glass and made his way back to the bedroom in the hopes that after he had had his drink he would feel like going back to sleep.
Upon entering his room however, any thoughts of sleep vanished from his mind as he felt the presence again. "Show yourself, I know you're here!" he yelled, setting the bottle and glass upon his bedside table.
There was no answer. Ellis's rage was nearing its peak. He knew someone was here, but where were they? And why didn’t they show themselves? The presence was clearly non-human, or he wouldn’t have sensed it. Of course, he was staying at a hotel room and thus he wasn’t protected against vampires. Ellis opened the first drawer on the night table and retrieved a stake.
The curtains in the high French windows moved with the soft night breeze and he swallowed; he didn’t remember opening them. A dark form moved about in the shadows of the balcony and a woman entered the room. *Vampire.* He felt the undeadness in her.
He quickly walked a step ahead, away from the bed, the stake firmly gripped in his hand, and took a good look at the woman.
She was tall. Her hair was tucked up in her head, a coronet of braids that gave her an old-fashioned air but that suited her dark beauty perfectly. Her face was attractive, unlined, yet possessed of considerable maturity, mostly around her eyes, also dark and heavily lined with mascara. Her figure, clad also in an old-fashioned style, was strong, lean, and overpoweringly feminine. As Ellis gazed at her he felt not only a strong physical attraction, but also the full force of a powerful personality.
Not sensing threat coming from her, Ellis managed to relax a little and leaned back against one of the posts of the bed. "Um... I never did catch your name, Miss...?" he prompted.
The vampiress gave a burst of mirthless laughter and walked into the room, brushing past him to reach the glass on the night table. Ellis caught a whiff of her perfume and growled. *What is happening to me? I’m not a horny teenager!* he thought as he watched her pour herself some liquor and take a sip. She turned to him then, and smiled.
“Roxana,” she purred.
Ellis' body tensed. Roxana was the name of Morris’ mistress. He hadn’t spent his time in Los Angeles idly; his father's ex-friend had many things to pay for. He tucked the stake in the belt of his robe and moved towards the vampiress, taking the glass from her hand and drinking a gulp of the fierce liquid himself. He needed to think clearly, past the haziness of lust that was blinding him.
“Lieto di conoscerla, Roxana,” he greeted, trying to sound calm. His eyes raked her from head to toe, and smiled at the gracious nod with which she acknowledged his words.
“Grazie, caro,” she said, and sat comfortably on the bed, smiling up at him.
Ellis fought the urge to go to her, and cursed himself from not having had some kind of spell cast to protect himself while staying in the hotel. Instead, he forced himself to talk.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asked. His mouth was dry and he again wondered at the strength of the lusty feelings this woman was provoking in him.
“Why? Do I need a reason to meet a bello uomo like you?” she answered, and moistened her lips, taunting him. She leaned back on the bed and slapped the spot beside her.
Ellis arched an eyebrow, refusing to even consider her invitation. “I’m sure there is another reason, much as I’m honored. A message from your master?”
At this, Roxana’s face showed frustration. She rose from the bed and moved towards the windows. Her entire body betraying her anger. “Roxana has no master!” she almost yelled. She whirled around and he saw that she was smiling again. “But you’re correct, I bring a message… or rather, he does.”
Ellis had been so enthralled in her mood changes that he hadn’t noticed the other vampire entering the room. When the creature started moving against him he took the stake from his belt, and smiled *Now we are talking clearly,* he thought as they circled each other.
“Remember your master wants him alive, Bobby,” he heard Roxana say, laughter in her voice.
With the corner of his eye, he saw she had sat as if to enjoy the spectacle. *Well, at least she didn’t get to enjoy all she wanted tonight,* he thought, but his attention went quickly back to the vampire in front of him. Ellis groaned inwardly, wishing he had more than only a stake to protect himself. He was confident on his fighting, but this vampire was huge. He seemed to fill the room, and the intent he was getting from him wasn’t soothing either.
*Too big, probably too slow,* he thought as the vampire charged. Ellis easily dodged him, but ‘Bobby’ managed to hit him in the back at the last second, tumbling him onto the floor. His head connected with the hard wooden floor but he rolled and was on his feet in an instant. Ellis groaned, rolling his neck, *Maybe not that slow,* and he hurried to kick the vampire hard on his jaw and send him twirling down. Bobby sprang up, whirling to face his attacker. He punched, but Ellis ducked the vampire’s assault, slamming him a harsh uppercut that sent him to the floor again, just to get on his feet too soon.
Ellis heard the sound of Roxana’s clapping behind them and forced himself not to be distracted. *An opening, I need an opening,* he said to himself as they circled at some distance again. He could feel the vampire’s overconfidence and joy at the fight, he would have to use that against him. He couldn’t beat him in strength and seemingly not in skill either. *He can't kill me though,* he mused, although the thought didn’t give him much comfort.
Twisting, he feigned slipping and sprung upwards when the vampire bent to grab him. Ellis plowed into him, sending them both sprawling. The vampire lashed out with a kick, hitting his shoulder, but he ignored the pain. Grabbing the leg, he yanked Bobby towards him and staked him solidly into his heart.
“Bravo!” sounded Roxana’s voice near him, as he rose, panting from the exercise. “That was impressive, caro. I told Morris there was more than what met the eye in you.”
“You did?” he answered, and supressed a shiver at the thought those two discussing his merits. Gracing Roxana with an up and down look, he approached her with a purposeful stride. “I can show you some more tricks tonight too, bella.”
“Can you?” she answered, placing her small hands on his chest. There was lust in her eyes too, and excitement, as she tilted her head to kiss him.
Ellis moved quickly and smoothly, taking the vampiress’ arm. Not expecting his attack Roxana tried to get herself out of his reach. But Ellis caught her by surprise letting go of her arm and quickly grabbing her waist. Ellis rolled her against him, poking his stake right behind her heart and using his other hand to get Roxana’s right arm locked behind her back. Forcefully he made the vampiress move, just as the door opened and two other vampires charged into the room.
"Freeze!" Ellis called. "One false step, and the prima donna here gets this right between her ribs. Do I make myself clear?" He could see from the expression on the vampires that he did... and that they, at least, were not ready to take responsibility for letting their master’s mistress perish. Ellis thanked that, obviously, the vampiress was more important to them than he was.
"Back away through the door, nice and easy... that's good." They did, and Ellis followed them, keeping Roxana before him with the stake firmly planted against her back. He groaned inwardly when the vampiress moved herself sensuously against his body, making him unwillingly react to her again. “Be still!” he hissed, shaking her, but not letting go. Roxana laughed, not in the least worried about her safety.
Outside the room, the wide hall was dimly lit with incandescent bulbs at that time of night, although the clearing of dawn was permeating through the windows. Besides the two guards who had come to help Miss Rome, there were two more brethren outside, and they also moved back when they saw him and his hostage.
Ellis leaned forwards to whisper in Roxana’s ear. “You tell your master that I’ll be waiting for him next time.” He inhaled her perfume a last time before adding, “I won't lower myself to speak to underlings.”
He laughed at her angered exclamation and shoved her strongly forward against the other vampires, before turning to his room and locking the door. He then quickly ran to the balcony to welcome the first rays of the sun.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
1318 Poplar Ave - Reah’s Apartment
Thursday the 8th, March, 2007
08:14am
“Hey, Qui-”
“What!” The girl jumped, snapping to reply.
Reah paused, blinking at Quin’s somewhat edgy mood that had emerged of late. “Um… nothing…” She shook her head, nudging up the plastic basket that nestled against her hip, “Do you have any more washing, is all?”
“Oh!” Quin relaxed a little, slumping back a bit into her seat, “Um… no.”
“Okay! That’s all I was wondering.” Reah nodded once, muttering to herself as she wandered off down the hall towards her room. “No need to be so bloody jumpy all the friggen time. Anyone would think you’d committed murder or something… Who knows! Perhaps you’ve got ants in your pants like that ad or… whatever. If you really were like that ad you’d be orgasming, or something… Talking crap now. Do I care?”
“Buh’p-bah-dah!” Reah dropped the basket to the ground, moving across to her bed with a new set of sheets ready just outside the doorway. Gripping a hunk of the old sheeting in her fists, Reah gave it one firm whip, ripping it all off in one clean motion. A small glimmer of light flickered off its edge but Reah paid no heed as she bundled the dirty bedding up in her arms and tossed it into the waiting basket.
A crisp ‘crack’ broke the room’s lingering air as new bedding softly floated back down onto the mattress, ready to be reorganised and fixed properly into place. Reah squatted by one end and raised up its draped corner level to the bed’s surface, smoothing down the edge before tucking it underneath and dropping the corner back down again to also tuck away in a perfect hospital corner.
Shuffling herself across the ground, Reah closed in on the bedhead, tucking in more sheet along the way till she reached its end and folded it back some. That’s when she caught sight of something shiny, immediately sparking her interest and curiosity as to what she’d possibly found. *Hope it’s something cool… I love dumb luck!*
Frowning she blindly touched it, feeling a spark of excitement - with her head pressed sideways into the mattress - that it was something solid! *You bewdy! Grab it!* Retrieving her hand and the object along with, Reah knelt back on her feet, curiously turning the small silver earring over in her palm. A wash of disappointment ran through her: it looked like one of Quin’s - but it was soon replaced with cunning thoughts of not owning up!
*Nah.* Reah’s sigh was heavy with regret, her brief moment of excitement promptly crushed like a delicate petal. One earring without a matching partner was almost as pointless as a yoyo without a string.
Pushing herself up to her feet, Reah glanced across at her bedside table and frowned again. Quin must have been in her room recently, for one reason or another. She just remembered the headphones that had been right there only the other day. They weren’t there previously, but it hadn’t really clicked till she noticed they were suddenly gone again. *Oh well.*
“Quin?”
“WHAT!” The girl jumped again as Reah remerged from her bedroom, pausing once more to clench her eyes shut at the repeated edginess, then dangled the ornate earring from her outstretched finger tips, “I just found this in my room behind the bed head.”
Quin gulped, panicking: feeling the pressure. “Reah…!”
Reah held her stance, the displayed earring steadily rocking by an unseen force as she darted her eyes around dodgily at Quin’s rather odd behaviour. She wasn’t expecting that as an answer… if you could even call it one… but when it became apparent that nothing was soon to follow…
“Quin!” She reiterated her cousin’s tone.
“Pfft! Sheesh! I mean…” Quin stammered nervously, averting her eyes. “I can’t go in your room, now? I lost an earring!” Her eyes suddenly locked, accusing. “You probably stole it! What’s your problem with me?”
“What the…? Quin! I never…!” Reah’s head shook irritably, eyes clenched along with her fists in frustration. “I just found your fucking earring in my room! I’m not accusing you of anything! Why…?” And then she saw it: the flustered look in Quin’s face, her heart racing like a hare fleeing for its life. She was amazed she hadn’t put two and two together earlier!
“Quin… what’s up?” She frowned, studying her cousin closer with a steady eye, slowly drawing out that bead of sweat with increasing tensity. “Quin… you didn’t do something in my room did you…? What did you do in my…” Reah’s gaze suddenly glazed over, her body slowly straightening while her eyes rapidly flickered beneath their partially drawn lids… images flashing over… Searching…
…
…
Oh…!
.
Sweet!
.
Merciful!
.
Crap!
.
“QUIIIN!”
Reah scrambled around the couch after her already vanished cousin, socked feet slipping beneath her on the polished wooden floor as she desperately clawed the upholstery to stay upright in her chase. With her footing found as she rounded the obstacle, Reah sprinted down the hall, sliding past Quin’s bedroom door to a sudden halt before picking herself back up and bursting into the room. “QUIN!” She was greeted by free flowing drapes, swaying out an open window.
“SHIT!” Reah cursed, slamming her fist hard into the doorframe, grazing her knuckles in the process.
Spinning about in a thunderous fury, Reah stormed for the buildings stairwell. “That fucking little c-”
“-OLE!” She pounded hard on Darian’s apartment door, intent on giving him a good, solid, possibly fatal yelling for soiling her sheets! *Fucking… shit! My bed!* Shuddering and erking at the thoughts and recurring imagery, Reah pounded heavily on the door again, its frame cracking under her force. “COLE! ANSWER THE BLOODY DOOR! I’M GONNA RIP YOUR BLOODY HEAD OFF!” *A good castration wouldn’t go astray, either…*
“DARIAN?” There was still no answer… from either inhabitant. Reah checked the time again and wondered where the hell they would be at this time. “This is fucking ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, rejecting thoughts of kicking the entire door down completely. They more than likely really weren’t home, and doing such a thing would probably cost her more heartache than she cared for when they did return.
*And when they do…* Reah glared dangerously at the inanimate surface, pivoting back on her heel in one swift movement towards the stairs and bounded back up.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
***March 9th, 2007- Upper East Side of Manhattan- 2:37 pm***
Adriana was slumped in a fair sized, black leather chair in the living room of her cousin's apartment. She was engrossed in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice when the phone began to ring. Drea sighed and shouted, “I’ll get it!”
She marked her book and grabbed the black, cordless phone. “Hello?” she spoke.
An awkward silence came over the phone until, finally, a French voice came from the other line, “Iz Gwenaelle there?”
Adriana knew immediately who that was. It was Mrs. Nicolette Saracens, Gwen’s mother. She held back a groan and replied, “No she’s not. Can I tell her you called?”
Immediately, Mrs. Saracens retorted, “How can ziz be? Where iz she? Do not tell me she iz at work! That girl haz not worked a day of her life!”
Adriana sighed. “She’s out shopping, Mrs. Saracens. I will tell her you called,” she assured her before quickly hanging up the phone. Drea lifted herself from the chair and made her way to the kitchen, her book in hand.
At the table sat Gwen, reading a baby magazine. “Who was it?” she asked, using her American accent.
Adriana opened the refrigerator, and while pulling out a can of Pepsi replied, “Seller.” Drea pulled out a chair from the table and sat herself down. It was evident that Sergei did not like Gwen’s mother’s overbearing presence, so she promised him she wouldn’t tell Gwen when she called.
She picked up one of the other baby magazines and flipped through it. Adriana’s eyes scanned the pictures of happy babies in a variety of poses in order to sell expensive baby products. She sighed and asked Gwen, “Any idea what you want to name the baby?”
Gwen took a large bite from a pickle before responding, “If it’s a boy, we’re naming him something French. If it’s a girl, we’re naming her something from Eastern Europe. Took us thirty six hours to come to the agreement.”
Adriana nodded. Just then, Sergei popped his head into the kitchen, causing Gwen to give a wide smile. She rose from the table and hugged her husband tightly. They pecked each other on the lips before Sergei looked at Gwen’s stomach and began to rub it. The newlyweds smiled at each other as Sergei kissed his wife’s head.
Drea smiled at them and asked, “Hey, mister, aren’t you suppose to be at work?” Sergei just smiled and pointed to the kitchen clock, which read 2:45 pm. He got out at 2:30 pm. Adriana rolled her eyes and smiled at her cousin.
“Smart ass,” she commented as they sat down at the table.
Sergei sat in Gwen’s seat, to which she responded by sitting on his lap. She wrapped her arm around him and asked, “How was work?”
His smile faded and he turned his dark brown eyes away from Gwen to the floor. “Well... it was… it was different…” Sergei began. He tapped his long fingers on the table before continuing, “We got a lot of e-mails from… from people you would never know existed…”
Adriana perked up. Drea raised her eyebrows at him. “What’s that suppose to mean?” she questioned.
Sergei sighed. “Er, well, a good half of our readers are teenagers, who are only interested in love potions, levitating spells and such. But these people… God, I felt like I was in a Stephen King novel! The e-mails weren’t questions… more like prophecies of some sort. It was just… weird…”
He trailed off when an idea came to him. He cleaned his glasses on his shirt and searched through his nearby briefcase. His hands moved wildly through until he shouted, “A-ha!”
Sergei pulled out a seemingly blank piece of paper, but, with a closer look, had a few lines of writing in small, black font. He read aloud, “‘Those blessed by the Lord have turned their backs on Him, a mass corruption from the Devil if you will. Those who still believe in the Almighty must stand up and fight Lucifer’s army off. If not, the world shall be consumed by his awesome power.’ Signed ‘Father Jarek’.”
Sergei dropped the paper on the table and rubbed his forehead. Gwen leaned her head on his and began stroking his black hair. Adriana picked up the paper and looked it over, while Sergei continued, “This Father Jarek guy has been e-mailing me for months with all these crazy prophecies. Why I read them, don’t ask. I asked about him at work; he’s this crazy priest in Krakow who, once in awhile, sends these prophecies of ‘doom’ here.”
Drea continued to stare at the letter. “Can I keep this?” she asked, looking up.
Sergei looked at his cousin and shrugged his shoulders. “Be my guest. He sends us, like, seven of those a day. All the same thing.”
Adriana folded up the paper and slipped it into her book. Gwen’s head popped up and she looked upon her husband and smiled. “Oh, Sergei, let’s go to the Toys ‘R’ Us in Time Square! We now have a reason for being there!” she said to him excitedly.
Sergei leaned back and sighed heavily. “Babe, I’m tired. I’ve been working since 8:30 this morning. Go with Drea,” he told her.
Adriana looked him straight in the eyes and muttered, “I’ve spent the whole day with her!”
Sergei looked at Gwen and sighed. “Fine.”
Gwen gave her husband a kiss on the cheek and walked quickly to get her coat. Sergei gave Drea pleading eyes which read ‘Don’t leave me alone with her!’
Adriana rolled her eyes and said to him, “I’ll get my coat.”
Sergei wrapped his arm around her and kissed her forehead. “What would I do with out ya?”
Drea placed her book on the table as they left the kitchen.
Reintroducing Mo Rocca as Sergei Calendar and Audrey Tatou as Gwenaelle Saracens-Calendar
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
***March 10th, 2007- Upper East Side, Manhattan- 3:15 am***
Adriana sat on the guest bed of the spare bedroom. Her bare legs leaned against her chest as she was reading. Not her book, but the print out of Father Jarek’s e-mail. Spare locks of Drea’s dark hair that weren’t in her loose ponytail draped on her knees. She then looked up from the letter and leaned back.
Drea looked at the clock next to her bed. 3:15 am. Adriana did some math in her head. It was 12:15 am on the west coast. Dominika would surely be up, clubbing with the girls from Adriana’s university classes.
She looked over the e-mail again. After a moment of thinking, Adriana unplugged her cell phone and speed dialed Dom. It wouldn’t hurt, after all, to ask her.
Ring… ring… ring…
“Hi it’s Dom. I’m obviously too busy to pick t’e phone up, so just leave a message and I’ll get back to you sooner or later,” her voice mail chirped.
Adriana groaned as the beep rang. “Hi Dom, it’s Adriana. Look, Sergei is getting these crazy e-mails from this priest in Poland and what they say is really creepy. Call me back.”
She hung up. Drea looked back at the prophecy. *What the hell is she doing at this time of night?*
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
***March 10th, 2007- Club Vosrazhenie- 12:15 am***
Vladimir Dutskaya stood at the entrance of Club Vosrazhenie with his partner for the night. It seemed very routine; they checked everyone in line with holy water, and eventually let them in. Until recently, he didn’t like checking. But the recent vampire attack on the boss’s son’s girlfriend had fueled him to continue this method.
The young Russian looked upon the next person waiting in line. He was a dark and handsome man, the kind of guy that he would certainly not like to compete with to get the affections of a girl, especially since Russian men weren’t the most attractive men in the world. With him were two other fellows. One was a lanky Asian man, who, although he was small, seemed to have a large sign about him that read ‘I can kick your ass’. The other was a young boy, who looked barely out of high school and had an air of both confidence and arrogance.
Vladimir crossed his arms at the three men and gave a slight nod to his partner. “Please, let us see your khands for a routine test,” the other Russian spoke.
Skippy held out his hand as the Russian sprayed the holy water on his hand. Skippy looked round to the Russian and winked gleefully.
“I hope I passed your test, not sizzling or anything like that.” Skippy pushed past the Russian and to the other side. He was very amused that he wasn’t searched. He had quite a number of weapons on him ever since James had the run in with Tash and he wasn’t taking any chances on security.
Vincent strolled past the bouncer but was stopped by the burly man’s outstretched arm. As Vincent looked up, the bouncer took his hand and sprayed holy water on it. He withdrew his hand quickly and began to scream. "Ah, it burns, it burns!"
The bouncer jumped back a few feet out of shock and was already reaching for a stake located in his jacket when Vincent flashed his hand and wiggled his fingers in the bouncer’s face.
"Heh, paranoid are we?"
James walked up to the bouncer this time and smirked at him. "I think my friends have had enough fun with you tonight, don’t we?" James walked past him, still grinning. He winked at Darlome and Vincent at the obvious ruse they had just pulled on the Russian bouncer.
Vladimir’s usual pale face was now turning a bright red. Another set of assholes. They always liked fucking with the Russian bouncers. Once in awhile, Mr. Polyakov gave them the permission to beat any of the patrons that were giving them a hard time. But he held back. He assured himself he wouldn’t hold back. If this next one pulled a stunt like the other two men he’d beat the bastard into a bloody pulp.
Dutskaya stepped in front of his partner and faced James. His blue eyes radiated a coldness only found in Siberia. Vladimir’s muscular arms were crossed as he spoke, “Khand, please. Any funny stuff and ve’ll make sure your mot’er cannot give you an open casket funeral,”
James grinned at the big Russian and smiled. "Well if I was a vampire, my mother would be long dead and you would really need an urn, wouldn’t you?" James kept the smug smile on his face and he took the holy water from the Russian’s hands and sprayed it in his mouth.
"Happy, Mr. Russian mob enforcer?" James pushed by the Russian and into the club as he began to think to himself, *I really gotta make a name for myself among these fucking gangsters. They are gettin too uppity for their own good.*
Vladimir and his partner moved in front of the trio. They grabbed their hands and stamped them hard enough for their hands to nearly break. Dutskaya looked at them with the traditional Russian frown and said, “Velcome to Club Vosrazhenie. Don’t do anyt’ing stupid.”
The Russians then returned to their post.
James, Skippy, and the kid began to dance. The music was loud irratic and lacked lyrics, the exact kind of music James hated. He could deal with the loud and irratic bit but he realy needed songs with lyics to make them bearable. James wildly jumped around the room waving his hands in the air, glow sticks and whistle in tow, making as much of a scene of himself that he possibly could.
The kid and Skippy on the other hand were quickly dancing away with some ladies who had taken a shine to them. James continued to dance until he noticed that the bouncers were always glancing over towards this one particular girl which made James think. Either she was doing something wrong… or she was the boss’s daughter or girlfriend. James’ signature grin spread across his face as he glided towards the girl.
Dominika groaned. She hated when Peter had the bouncers keep an eye on her. They never allowed her to have any fun. Of course, her boyfriend was allowed to sniff as much cocaine and sleep with as many whores as he liked, but when it came to her, she was his.
Dom and her two clubbing companions, Heidi and Erin, stood in the corner. “This is really stupid, Dom,” Heidi said, her eyes moving around the club. Erin jittered anxiously, looking at her watch.
“My boyfriend was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, but those guards are scaring him off. I know they are, he hates this club. Nicky, can’t you tell them to fuck off?” she asked, pleadingly.
Dominika sighed. Just then, she saw a flashback to Reservoir Dogs. There stood a man, a la Mr. Pink, standing there. He was a handsome man, with a darkness about him. Dom gave a mischievous smile. She looked back to her friends and spoke in her Rumanian accent, “Come on. Fate just knocked.”
Dominika and her friends made their way through a few people to the man in the suit. “I t’ink you’re in t’e vrong place, guy,” she said to the man as soon as she was close enough.
James smirked. "Yeah, I’m not really into this kind of music. I’m more into good stuff, ya know, with lyrics and stuff. But my friend over there loves this crap," said James nodding to Darlome who was having a ball, raving it up.
Dom blinked twice. “T’is is not ‘crap’, as you put it. It’s PPK!” she proclaimed to him, as if he was supposed to have a clue what she was talking about.
Her friend Heidi studied James. “I’ve seen you before. Back in late January, I saw you leaving from the Rumba Club with that Inés slut. What’s the deal with that?” she asked him bitterly.
Dominika and Erin gave dirty looks to their side at the thought of the Verbati demon. James growled at the woman and after a second smirked. "She’s my friend... and she’s not a slut."
He turned his attention from her friend to the girl. "So my name’s James. What would the names of you two lovely ladies be?" he said, smirking.
Dom returned the grin and she innocently replied, “Dominika. But everyvon either calls me Dom or Nicky.”
The girl next to her looked at him and gave a fake smile. “Erin, and I’m waiting for my boyfriend of eleven months,” she told him, clearly not interested.
Nicky rolled her eyes and motioned over towards her other friend. “T’at’s Heidi. She and Inés have a history…” Dom began when Heidi interrupted.
“She was heavily grinding with my ex at the Rumba Club. Right in front of me. Give me a reason not to hate her.”
James grinned. "Aw, well, does it even matter? He couldn’t have been that good a boyfriend if he would dance with her. I mean, dancing one day, the world the next ...”
Heidi gave a fake smile. “Well, some of us aren’t blessed with such ‘wonderful’ boyfriends as Dom here,” she commented.
Erin returned the fake smile and continued, “Her boyfriend’s father owns the club.”
Nicky gave a devilish smile and rolled her eyes a bit. “Vat can I say? I’m blessed…” Dom sipped her drink while giving James a wink, indicating to him that she liked him.
James gave his devilish grin and winked back. "So your boyfriend’s with the Russian mob then?" James’ grin stayed well plastered over his face. He dearly enjoyed watching people squirm when they were hit with shit like that.
Dominika held her grin while replying, “Basically. I don’t mind. I get in here venever I vant, don’t I?”
Erin looked over them and smiled. “Oh! That’s my boyfriend! See ya later, ladies,” she said and as she moved towards her boyfriend’s direction, she bumped into James, who just kept smiling. Erin forced a smile and said to him, “Nice meeting you, James.” She quickly moved through the crowds and disappeared.
Dom turned James back around, who had watched her go. Her hand was tightly grasped on his shoulder. “Vell, vat are ve vating for? I say ve dance,” she suggested.
James’ smirk disappeared instantly. "I have a slight problem with dancing... I can’t really do it... it’s why being a punk was a great choice for me in music taste. I just pop around and punch the air really... how do I dance to this?"
Dominika smiled. "Come on, I’ll show you." She grabbed James’ hand and tugged him onto the dance floor. Eventually, after a couple moments, James got the hang of it and actually didn’t look like that much of a fool doing it.
Dom continued to smile as she and James danced to Ruki Vverh’s “Devchonka”. In the corner of her eye, she glanced at the bouncers. They were busy splitting up a fight two other patrons. Her grin widened and her gaze returned to James.
“Ve should get away from here. Go somevere else… do somet’ing else…” she suggested, giving him a wink.
James didn’t have to be told twice as he held out his hand and Dom pulled him down towards the bathroom. James smirked and thought to himself *And that girl thought Inés was a slut…*
Dominika began pulling James into a bathroom stall, their lips locked. James quickly locked the stall…
The two emerged half an hour later. Dom began fixing her hair in the mirror as she pulled out her cell phone from her purse. She glanced it over and groaned.
“Jesus, Adriana, I can’t have a good time witout you bot’ering me!” Nicky spoke through her teeth.
The smirk on James’ face dropped and his mind began to race *Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh, it can’t be, can it?* James tapped her on the shoulder. "When you say ‘Adriana’, you don’t mean ‘Lautari’?”
Dominika rolled her eyes. “Von in t’e same. She’s my sister,” she said blankly. For a moment, she played with her phone before she continued, “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but ve are. She grew up vit our uncle here; I grew up vit t’at t’ing ve call our mot’er. Adriana’s in New York now, visiting our cousin Sergei.”
James eyes widened. "I really gotta go now. Bye-bye. See ya. Nice meeting you.”
Dominika shrugged it off and called back, “Don’t expect me to call!”
daye begins her dark studies
*** March 7, 2007 11pm ***
*** Daye’s House ***
Daye slipped silently out of the bed as soon as she heard Drew’s breathing become slow and even. He was asleep, exhausted by the furious lovemaking they’d engaged in for the last few hours. Daye, on the other hand, only felt more keyed up and restless. The funeral, the confrontation with Nikolai - the stress of all that had been happening this last week had combined to make her so edgy. And that was if you ignored the strange urges, the unusual compulsions she’d been fighting for days. It was inconceivable for her to just slip off to sleep now.
Daye tiptoed out of the bedroom and made her way into her ‘library’. The small bedroom was located downstairs, in the back of the house, and had its own exit leading out to the back garden. Once she was inside she shut the door behind her and discarded the green silk robe she’d shrugged into in the bedroom.
The library was dark but the curtains were open, revealing the giant picture window beside the door. Silvery moonlight filtered into the room, providing the only illumination. Daye stood just within the closed doorway, completely naked. She walked over to the antique stand mirror a few feet from the doorway. She often used the mirror in her spell casting. It was excellent for scrying and had belonged to her mother. Now, however, Daye used the mirror for its more mundane purpose. Standing still, clad only in moonlight, she studied her body in the mirror.
Those boys the other day, Cole and Vincent, had admired her body, and Daye had found their attention thrilling. All the more so since there was something taboo about a woman her age, a mother even, encouraging sexual attention from two young, healthy teenagers. Just the thought of them thinking of her that way made Daye suddenly flush with heat. And then there was the other thing they’d talked about that day… magic. Dark, powerful magic; the kind of magic Daye had never allowed herself to even briefly consider. Until now, anyway.
Running her hands over her lush curves, turning one way and then another to admire herself, Daye thought of the books, the ones locked up in the cabinet against the wall. Those books had been entrusted to her by many different people. Some she’d found in the castle in Ireland, some had been put into her care by the Council, and still others she’d picked up over the years, both here in Los Angeles and in other travels around the world. The one thing all those books had in common was that they focused on the black arts, something she’d never before considered studying at all, let alone practicing.
“But, why not?” Daye asked herself aloud. “I’m tired… Tired of always being good, of always playing it safe. Every time I go up against one of these crazies, like Mother Mariah or The Brotherhood or whatever, I’m holding myself back. Why should I place restrictions on my power… on my magic? Who says that those books and the knowledge they contain is wrong? Who decided that I should avoid it? Why have I set limits on myself just because some Watcher or Sindell witch told me I had to? Who has the right to tell me that, anyway?”
“And who knows, maybe if I had set fewer constraints on myself, then I would have been better prepared for what’s happened of late,” she continued. “Maybe I could have stopped Mariah and Ryan before they did any real damage… maybe I wouldn’t have had to be the ‘vessel’ for their twisted schemes. They used me, and they damaged my relationship with Drew. If I’d been stronger… and what about Sorrow? I might have been able to help him too. There are so many dark, evil things in this world, and by trying to stay so pure, I’ve probably made it easier for them to prey on me and on those I love.”
Daye smiled broadly at herself in the mirror. “It’s just like this sex thing… I’ve always been so… controlled. That’s the problem.”
She spun away from the mirror and went to her desk. She pulled open a drawer and withdrew the key to the locked cabinet. She twirled around the room, delighted with her sudden decision. She understood finally what had been happening to her over the last few days. *I’ve been caged for so long,* she thought. *But now, finally, I’m going to be free. How glorious freedom feels.*
Daye unlocked the cabinet and pulled out a book, an ancient text bound in leather. On the cover was etched a dark, deadly god. Daye laughed softly as she settled cross legged on the floor of the library and opened the book. She began to read as the moon continued its slow march across the sky. By dawn she’d already begun to understand the seductive power in her hands. It was hours before she could put aside the book, and only then when she’d promised herself to come back to it as soon as possible.
daye meets monk
*** Friday, March 9, 2007 10 am ***
*** The Bilbiophile ***
Monk walked quickly down the street deep in thought. He had meant to contact this woman quite a while ago but as with all things in life that didn’t turn out the way he had planned. As he reached the Bibliophile he looked across the street noticing a dive of a bar known as Bob's Bar. Monk pushed the door of the Bibliophile open and was hit by the smell of paper and coffee. Monk had always loved the smell of book shops, ever since he was a child. He eyed the woman behind the counter and figured she must be Amanda Blaise, the one he had been looking for.
As he reached the woman Monk cracked a grin, “Hello there. My name’s Monk and I assume you are Amanda?”
Daye glanced up from where she stood at the counter, flipping through one of those silly American “muscle magazines”. She’d been drawn to the half naked man on the cover with the bulging body and the rather wicked look in his eyes. For the last couple of days, she’d found herself distracted by the men in and around the shop often, not to mention those in advertisements on the television, or in magazines, or just on the billboards around the city. She finally felt like whatever illness she’d brought home from Colombia was at an end, and her libido was kicked up into overdrive. It was out of character for her to feel so restless, but she mostly chalked it up to psychology. With Emma’s death, it was only natural to feel this need to reaffirm life, and what better way than through sex. Besides, Drew really didn’t seem to mind. He was receptive, even if she was feeling like they were getting staid. She was itching to do something different. At times she even had a fleeting thought to perhaps see how things would be with someone else, someone like this very attractive man standing across the counter from her.
Daye wanted to try something else she’d never tried before, since her studies of black magic had been coming along so well. She was thinking that soon she might try a couple of spells out. Maybe the lust inducing ones, or some dark, sexual magic. That was if she could get Drew to go along with her. She wasn’t sure he would be willing.
Daye's smile was more than just friendly as she let her gaze roam over the man in front of her. *Monk?* she thought. *I hope that's not in reference to some vow of celibacy.*
"Hello, Mr. Monk," Daye said, extending her hand. "Welcome to The Bibliophile. I am Amanda Blaise. Is there something I can do to help you?"
*Like help you lose a few items of clothing… or...* Daye shook her head suddenly. *What the heck am I thinking? This is not the time, and I’m... engaged.*
Monk smiled. “There are a few things but I would rather we spoke in private. The Watchers' Council wouldn’t be too happy about us talking about these things out in the open, even if I were the only person in this shop.”
Daye glanced around Bibliophile. It was late morning, and therefore, one of the slower times of day for the bookshop, but still, there were a few people around. She looked back at Monk, her face betraying her obvious distress.
“You're cute, but not too subtle, huh, Babe," Daye said, coming around the counter. She took the man by the arm and steered him towards her office. "We never discuss home office stuff out here. It tends to make people nervous, especially me."
Daye closed the door firmly behind her and turned back to Monk, settling behind her desk quickly. "Ok, Babe, what's got you all worked up?"
*And how can I help you blow off some steam?* Daye was only mildly shocked by the direction of her thoughts. This Monk guy, whoever he was, was hot and sort of dangerous, at least that’s the feeling she got. He had definite potential to be the something new she’d been thinking of.
Monk gave his James-esque grin and leaned over the desk to look in her eyes as he picked up and hand and kissed it. "Well, love, I’m here to inform you of a rather nasty vampire who has been reformed... In other words, I know you are one of these White Hats and I want you to stay off him. Council orders of course," Monk leaned back over to his side of the desk and got comfy.
Daye struggled to concentrate on the man's words as her raging libido kicked up once more.
"Council's orders?" she repeated, her tone a bit husky. She blinked, getting herself back under control and studied Monk for a moment. The man was completely unfamiliar to her, and she had no idea what division of the Council he even worked for, but she wasn't used to being told what to do. She didn't follow "orders" all that well really.
"I'm sorry, Mr... Monk, but I don't have any idea who you are, or what your agenda is," she said coolly. "Why exactly should I listen to you or anything you have to say? And what do you mean by 'these White Hats'?"
Monk flashed his grin again as he spoke. “My name’s Douglas Anderson, aka Monk. I’m a member of the Ghost Squad, and I can only assume you know who the hell we are and what we specialize in." He moved to shuffle his weight in the seat and started to talk again, but this time with a sarcastic tone in his voice. “And the White Hats, as I call them, is your little group of friends who find it their business to save the day every time a demon pops his head out of the works. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you aren’t doing a good job. Trust me, I really don’t like the Council either. In fact, I think that fanny Delancre should have a little mishap, but I take my orders from a very intimidating person and quite frankly, I trust her orders."
*The Ghost Squad?* Daye thought. She'd heard of them, of course, as most Watchers had, but it was a rare thing to actually meet up with one of the hunters in person. She certainly had never expected to. Of course, what disturbed her the most was that he somehow knew about the White Hats. She hadn't mentioned the group to any of the other Watchers she knew and had never intended to. They didn't need the Council poking its big nose into their affairs, for precisely this reason. Tash and the others were no more amenable to having someone trying to tell them what to do than she herself was.
"So, Monk, you wanted to warn me about this vampire - who's coming to town - and who the Council wants me and my friends to stay away from..." Daye finally said.
"And you think that we're doing a 'good job' but we should really take your advice to heart," Daye continued, her tone growing cooler. "Ok, so I just have one question. Who the hell is it that you work for exactly, and how did he or she find out about us?"
Daye paused, musing. "Oh, I guess that's more like two questions... or a multi part question... Anyway..."
Monk shifted back on his seat and began to swing on it. “Well, I work for the Ghost Squad as I’ve told you. We in turn work for the Watchers' Council, but as you probably guessed I fucking hate Watchers. You guys tend to be tweed wearing pussies that would happily watch an innocent person die because the Slayer wasn’t around. Well the person I take my orders from is “mother”. That’s all I can tell you, but she’s basically a very high ranking Watcher, and we know about your little group, well, because nearly every member of the Ghost Squad is ex-special forces. There isn’t much you could hide from us."
Monk shifted his weight back to the floor then grinned. “And the vampire is already in town, and he did quite a number on your friend Tash. His name is James Connor. Now, I would seriously take my advice not to fuck with him or we will have to take some immediate action.”
Daye felt anger rear its ugly head, and she couldn't quite reconcile it. She'd been threatened and insulted by better men than this, but for some reason his words sent flashes of rage through her body. *Think you're a big man, don't you?* she thought spitefully. *Well, you have no idea what I am capable of.*
Daye made a sudden, unexpected decision. She stood, reaching within herself for hidden reserves of power. With a word and a gesture, one she'd seen used once by one of the Sindell coven members when they'd had Kate, she wrapped invisible bonds of force around Monk's body. She could feel the dark, dangerous anger fueling her power, but she didn't hesitate. She would not be threatened by anyone again, least of all the Council, who'd taken so much from her already. Look what they'd done to Alessa... and to Ryan.
The time had come to take a stand.
Daye held Monk tightly, his arms pinned to his sides. Leaning forward, across the desk, she smiled coldly. "My friends and I don't take kindly to threats, Mr. Anderson," her voice was a low purr. "No matter how prettily they're delivered."
Monk smirked, “I heard about your magical ability. I heard you are pretty powerful. Just one thing, this was a friendly warning. Next time the Ghosts will be called, and if you have ever heard of our work you will know that is not a good thing for you."
Monk chuckled. "And Mr. Anderson? Seriously, who the hell do you think you are? Agent Smith?"
Daye was even more enraged by that casual dismissal. She had heard of the "Ghosts" but apparently he wasn't all that well informed about the White Hats or what they had done in the past.
"Monk, then," she said derisively. "All right, Monk, maybe your sources aren't all that well informed, but allow me to explain. We've taken out two of the Brotherhood, an ancient Goddess, and a power mad Warlock, among others. We 'White Hats' aren't likely to be easily intimidated."
"Your vampire did a number on our leader," she continued, slowly releasing the magical hold she had on him. "We aren't going to just sit idly by and allow things like that to go on. If you have a problem with that, then I guess you have a problem with us."
Monk kept the smirk on his face as he pulled a large book from out of his inner jacket pocket. "This all the information on James and this is the reason you can’t fuck with him, because trust me if James dies there will be a monster out there not even the Elders could have contended with. And this is some information I shouldn’t be telling you, but you know the vampire Krispin? He serves the monster Dukal, and James is the key to Dukal's defeat.”
Monk sat up and got out of his chair, and winked at Daye. "I like the way you work. Maybe you aren’t a tweed wearing pussy like the rest of Delancre’s boys." Monk turned to the door and left the room.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
March 8th, 2007
Darian's apartment
5:50 PM
It had been over twenty minutes since Darian had sat down for supper, yet the plate remained untouched. His stomach rumbled, calling out for nourishment; yet his thoughts were too preoccupied to notice. He had woken up (or rather decided to get out of bed, he never did fall asleep) at around 4 am, and had spent the entire day looking for Cole.
*Where is he?*
The famous reoccurring question.
He had hoped that Cole would cool down and come home after their sudden argument the previous night, but he had no such luck. There had been no word from the teen and any attempt to find him had proved useless.
A thousand situations flashed through his mind as he tried to imagine where Cole could be. What if he had taken refuge back into the tempting arms of addiction? What if he was lying in some alley, the same way he had been when Darian first found him? What if he had planned to return, but was attacked by a thug? Or a vampire?
What if..?
What if..?
What if..?
He had no idea why he worried so much. Cole was streetwise, smart, resourceful, hell, he was even a capable wiccan. There were countless logical reasons why he shouldn’t be overly concerned, but then again, when did logic ever play a role in such occurrences? If he thought logically, Darian would have told himself Cole wasn’t his kid, and ultimately, not his responsibility, but again, logic had no place here.
Why was it that he cared so much about the homeless boy he had only met a few months prior? Perhaps it was because he sympathized with Cole’s hardships. He too had lost his parents at a young age, but luckily he had always had Sebastian there to watch out for him. Cole did not have that luxury; he had been alone in the world, fending for himself. A shudder surged its way through Darian’s body as he thought about what it must have been like for Cole in the early days of his loneliness. *He’s stronger than I am, I would have never made it without Seb.*
On the other hand however, it was a testimony to the boy's survival skills, another logical reason as why not to worry.
*Shouldn’t worry.*
*Shouldn’t worry.*
Darian glanced casually at the clock, as he took his fork, preparing to finally dig into the uneaten meal. 5:50 PM *If I leave now, I can get a few hours of searching in.*
Logically, he should have eaten (or at least taken a single bite), and waited. Cole would likely come back, and if not, well, he had all the White Hats on the lookout. Logically, wandering streets aimlessly was ridiculous, and statistically not a promising way to find Cole.
Screw logic.
A second later he was out the door, once again searching the city.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Tuesday January 23rd 2007
Hong Kong
The sharp report of Marcus’ pistol echoed through the cavernous interior of the warehouse, while the brilliant muzzle flash of the weapon illuminated the surrounding stacks of boxes. Marcus frowned; his first shot had been too high, catching his target in the shoulder and twisting the man around with a cry. Marcus controlled the recoil of his gun, pulling the barrel down to follow the now falling body and a second shot rang out. This time the cry of pain was more of a muffled grunt and Marcus decided he could safely advance upon his foe.
A third shot was fired into the man’s torso before Marcus slipped his gun back into its shoulder holster, kicked his opponent’s weapon away and crouched down. Marcus turned the body over and inspected his handiwork. The first bullet had been from behind; it had smashed into the shoulder and scattered bone fragments throughout the exit wound. The second shot had struck the abdomen and blood, almost black in the minimal light, was flowing freely. Marcus’ final round had struck higher up and from the bloody froth that stained the man’s lips had obviously pierced a lung. Death, it seemed was mere moments away.
Reaching into a pocket Marcus pulled out a crystalline sphere. Placing it carefully on the man’s chest Marcus murmured a simple incantation and waited. The chest heaved for a few more seconds, desperately trying to draw air into the ruined lungs but it was a hopeless battle, and with one final rattle the man died while a soft golden glow began to emanate from the crystal sphere.
“Why did you do that?”
Marcus picked the sphere up and placed it in his pocket before turning to face his questioner.
“Waste not, want not, Onyx,” Marcus replied good-naturedly. “I’m not going to go reaching past the Great Divide anytime soon and you never know, I might need a soul one day.” Marcus glanced down at the now empty body at his feet and then looked back at the elfin form of his ‘tutor’.
“The terms of the bargain are met?”
Onyx blinked then replied hesitantly, “They are.”
Marcus grinned triumphantly. “Finally!”
daye and delancre in the hills
*** Friday, March 9, 2007 5pm***
*** Watchers’ Council Base in the Hollywood Hills***
Lord Ambrose Delancre stood facing the view of the California hills, feeling at ease and filled with anticipation. After all these years he’d soon be face to face once again with the one person who had thwarted him. Daye was on her way, would be arriving in a matter of moments. Delancre had demanded that the room be cleared; even his closest guards were nowhere around. He needed to see her alone, to gauge whether or not the virus was having an effect on her. That’s why he’d dragged his army from the safety of Isla Nublada to this estate in the Hollywood Hills. If all went well, they would use this house, these lands, as a starting point for their final take over. In a few months, thanks to Hyde, the White Hats would be gone, and no one would stand in his way.
The door opened, and Delancre had to control the urge to spin around. He waited, not wanting to seem too eager. Daye entered the room and came to the desk. Finally Delancre turned to her, smiling broadly.
Daye stood before the ostentatious desk of polished mahogany, annoyed and nervous. Why had the High Elder called her here? What could he possibly want? Had he somehow found out about her studies, about the dark magic she was learning? Was she in trouble?
“Amanda,” Delancre’s tone was all indulgent father, but his eyes roamed Amanda’s body. A glint of lust flared. She was human, true, but she was a witch, and Delancre suspected she’d make a fine ‘companion’ once she was trained, and how delightful such training would be.
“Lord Delancre,” Daye inclined her head briefly, moving to sit in the chair he gestured to as the man settled behind the desk. He looked exactly as he had when she’d last seen him, before she’d been sent to England. Daye felt a pang. At one time, this man had been like a father to her, and now she didn’t dare let her guard down around him. Too much had happened, from the lies he’d told about Ryan to his possible involvement in her lover’s transformation. Daye had too much to worry about to allow herself the luxury of trusting Ambrose Delancre again.
“Oh, my. You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman, haven’t you my dear?” Delancre said, playing up his pride in her.
Daye didn’t respond. She studied Delancre quietly. What did he want?
“I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve come,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I guess you’re a bit nervous. Not that you have any reason to be. You’ve always been very special to me, Amanda.”
“Sir, I am curious,” Daye admitted. “It’s sort of unusual, the High Elder leaving England like this.”
Ambrose nodded, playing the understanding patriarch to the hilt. The time would come soon enough to shake her up. “Yes, well, that may be true,” he replied. “Is in fact the way things have always been, but… things change. Times change. And changing times demand that we, as a whole, change with them. It’s no longer enough for the Council’s leaders to rest on our laurels. Surely you see that. After what happened with the Brotherhood, and the poor, dear Slayer, well… The time has come to take a more active role. That’s why I’m here.”
Daye suppressed the urge to sigh in impatience. She had no desire to listen to this blowhard’s speech on responsibility. She’d really had enough of taking care of the whole damn world for a while. Daye just wanted to take a break and focus on herself for a little while. There were so many things she’d never done. So many things she was just beginning to experience. She didn’t need Delancre trying to rein her in now.
“I see,” Daye said coolly. “So, you’re here to take a more active role in Los Angeles? Why, if I might ask, here?”
“There seems to be a great deal happening in this city lately,” Delancre replied smoothly. “I just wanted to get a handle on why that is, and maybe see how we could make things easier on people like yourself, agents in the field.”
Daye nodded. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. Maybe no one had noticed what she’d been up to lately. She’d been very worried, especially about Mrs. Wyldling. That hag had “company man” down to a science, and Daye feared her interference greatly. Soon, perhaps, she’d be strong enough to walk away from the Council completely, but for now she needed their resources to find more knowledge. That was the only way she could continue to grow in power.
“So… I really just wanted to know what you’ve been up to,” Delancre said. “Can you tell me what kinds of things are going on now in the city? What do you personally feel are concerns?”
Daye smirked. This was going to be too easy. “Well, actually things are pretty quiet right now. I don’t think this is they best time for you to be here. We’ve got things pretty well under control.”
Delancre looked thoughtful. “We?” he echoed. “Would that be in reference to the unorthodox group you’ve become acquainted with while in the city?”
Daye cursed inwardly. She’d made a tactical error.
“The… uhm… empath… the demons… even a vampire or two… and that murderess, from Sindell… Wiccham, right?” Delancre was flipping slowly through a file on his desk. “Very interesting group. You are having regular meetings now, right? Becoming organized and all.”
Daye rolled her eyes. *Here we go,* she thought.
“Well, I must say I’m not entirely sure about this group of people,” Delancre continued. “I worry what influence they might be having on you. And I’m concerned with your discipline and loyalty issues. Some members of the Elders Council are very concerned about the amount of freedom you’ve been given, Amanda. You know, as I’ve already said, you’ve always been special to me. I’ve watched over you. I can’t promise that kind of favoritism now that I’m High Elder. It just wouldn’t be right.”
“I’ve never asked you for special treatment, Sir,” Daye said sharply. “I don’t expect it, and I don’t need it.”
Delancre smiled. There it was, that spark of anger, that arrogance. It was so clear. The virus was working its magic, altering her basic nature. She would soon either be his, or be too self involved to care about what he was up to.
“Be that as it may,” Delancre replied, “I just want you to know, we are watching you closely.”
“Screw you!” Daye shouted, jumping to her feet. She gestured with her hand, barking out a phrase in Latin, and the tapestry on the wall to their left began to smolder and burn. “I don’t need this! And if you all get in my way, I’ll do the same to you.”
Ambrose chuckled. He knew when he consulted the mages observing in the next room, they’d tell him she’d tapped into black magic to start the fire. This was too perfect.
Daye had turned around to storm out. Ambrose called out after her. “Oh, and if you could give me a call, setting up a meeting with Natasha Brookes, I’d greatly appreciate it. As soon as possible.”
Daye turned back around and stared incredulously at the High Elder. Was he crazy?
“You want me to arrange a meeting with Tash?” she asked. “You kidding?”
Delancre smiled benignly. “I appreciate that I’ve angered you, but still… you are a member of this Council. I am your leader, and I am very serious. We will be watching you and I do very much want to meet with Ms. Brookes. You set that up, okay?”
Daye was incredulous. Now he wanted her to play secretary. Still, what choice did she really have? She was going to be under scrutiny. It would be so foolish to create more suspicion. Maybe, if she sicced him on Tash, it would take some of the heat off her. It was worth a shot.
Swallowing her anger, Daye nodded slowly. “If she agrees,” she replied. “Only if she agrees.”
“Of course, I don’t expect you to knock her over the head and cart her out here against her will,” Delancre said.
“Then I’ll call you when I know,” Daye said. “If there’s nothing else… Sir.”
Ambrose nodded, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. Daye left the room, seething inside. She glanced at her watch and swore colorfully. She was late for her sparring session with Tash now too.
“Perfect, just perfect,” Daye muttered, running out to her car.
Double Trouble
Previously on LA By Night…
Season One -
*Tash, Kate, Daye and Luc all rush to the house in Pasadena to get possession of the remaining shards of the Cloch Cosan – and find out that the house is protected by a nullifying magic force field
*Vampire Cian interrupts the heroes and sets fire to the house just as everyone is escaping
*Kate and Luc take the injured twins – Celia and Cassy to Los Angeles Community Hospital where they later lapse into a coma
Saturday, 10 March 2007 – 10:32am – Los Angeles County Hospital
The two raven-haired little girls lay silently in the hospital room. The only sounds breaking that silence were the rhythmic beeping noise of the electrocardiogram and the wheezing, blowing sound of the artificial respirator.
Dr. Gregory Greenblatt checked the two girls’ vitals in the same way that he had done for the past two years since they had been admitted. He sighed; they were such pretty girls, they should be in high school now worrying about dates and parties and what kind of lip gloss to wear. The way normal eleven-year-olds did.
He’d made it his own personal responsibility to see to the twins ever since they had been transferred to his department. He usually only looked after the critically ill patients but there was something special about these two girls… Over the past two years he’d watched them grow and change from children into young adolescents. And he couldn’t help but feel sorry for them, hardly a soul had visited them in the whole time since they’d been admitted.
They were a strange pair though, he had to admit, and so pretty… even the one with the large scar on the side of her face. He was just thankful that their ‘mysterious benefactor’ kept paying their hospital bills.
Carmichael smiled from outside the small room, watching the doctor as he replaced the patient charts on the end of the bed and made his way out of the room. “Excuse me… Dr Greenblatt?” he called out, stopping the elderly man in his tracks. “My name is Thompson, I work on behalf of PionHex Jensen Pharmaceuticals.” He handed the man a business card. “I represent Mr. Arnold Jensen.”
Greenblatt shook his head in confusion, looking down at the rather official looking business card. “I’m sorry… should that mean something to me?”
“You are Dr. Greenblatt, are you not? My office has been in correspondence with you regarding the twin girls you have in your care. Cassandra and Celia Dawson.”
The doctor frowned, “You’re the man who keeps leaving those messages on my answerphone…”
Aimes smiled, “That would be me. I don’t mean to take up too much of your valuable time doctor, I just need you to sign a couple of release forms and then, well, then we can set the wheels in motion – so to speak.”
The frown on Greenblatt’s forehead grew deeper and more troubled. “Release forms? Under whose authority?”
“Judge Horace, it’s all here…” Aimes handed him a sealed envelope, “The court order was issued this morning. I think you’ll find everything is in order. The girls are to be taken to a private facility this evening and then… then they are no longer your concern, Doctor.”
Dr. Greenblatt opened the envelope and took out several papers, scanning over each with great scrutiny. “This is highly unusual Mr. Thompson,” he muttered, flicking through the papers. “I’ll have to make a few phone calls confirming all of this.”
“But of course,” agreed Carmichael with a satisfied smile. “I’ll wait.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
8th March, 2007
10:07pm
Scuffing his feet on the sidewalk as he went, Kyle ambled along a street. His hands were deep in his pockets and his shoulders sagged heavily. He was still hung over from meeting Hayden.
Why did Hayden even ask? How could Kyle trust him? Hayden had betrayed him before. There was no doubt he’d do it again.
Plus there was all those memories he was bringing up. Memories Kyle had tried hard to forget, and didn’t want to relive…
No. He stopped himself. He would not live in the past. He was firmly in the present, enjoying the moment, and that’s where he’d stay.
But he still hadn’t come to a decision on what he was going to do, even though it had been on his mind all day.
Just as it was looking like he could enjoy himself here, as well. Damn.
Maybe it would be for the best if he just skipped town, head to Vegas like he was going to do in the first place. Yeah, maybe he would.
Kyle passed the mouth of an alley and heard a whimper from within. He knew that sort of whimper; almost strangled, petrified, but too shocked by events around it, and at the same time accepting a dark fate. Letting a snide smile creep onto his face, Kyle stepped off the sidewalk and further into the shadows.
He rounded a corner in the alley. Up against a far wall, a girl, perhaps the same age as him, was pressed up against the wall, a man bent over her. At first Kyle thought they had just headed for some time together, and he had mistaken the whimper, but then he heard the sounds of feeding.
As he crossed to the opposite side of the alley, the vampire whirled on him. “Hey, dude. Do you mind? I’m a little busy here…” He indicated the girl.
Kyle shrugged and leant against the alley wall, folding his arms in front of him. “No rush. Take your time.”
“Thanks, man,” the vampire replied, resuming his business. Kyle continued to watch for a few minutes, until the vamp dropped the lifeless corpse to the ground and turned back to him, burping. What perfect timing this was. Just what he needed to take his mind off things. He unfolded his arms and pushed off from the wall with his back as the vampire spoke up again. “Can I help you?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Kyle replied, pulling out a stake. The vamp eyed it as he took it out. “But you can make me forget what’s wrong for a while.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” the vampire laughed. “You’re just a kid. Sure you got a stake, but I’m a vampire, and I just fed, man. Bring it on!”
He dived towards Kyle, launching a punch. Kyle dodged it, but caught another to his gut that had him off balance. He stumbled backwards as further punches drove into his face and gut, letting his opponent grow steadily over-confident, until finally his back was up against the wall.
At the last minute, Kyle ducked from one of the vampire’s punches. Instead, he smashed the wall and howled in both pain and frustration as brick and fist collided. Kyle ducked under his arm, drove his fist into the vampire’s gut to keep him occupied, spun, and brought the stake down into his back.
“No way, dude-” the vampire managed to get out, before crumbling.
“Way,” Kyle responded to himself, adrenaline pumping, then spat on the ground where the vampire had been. “Goddamned newbloods. Didn’t even have to turn the flame on.”
He turned around to find two guys watching him. Kids, even younger than him. Panting still, Kyle cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.
“Something I can do for you?” he asked, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.
“Let’s turn to the judges shall we?” Cole said, addressing his partner in crime.
Vincent smirked, “Well the form was good, he managed the cocky banter, and he knocked the landing. I’d say solid nine.”
“See, I’d have to go with 8.5. Penalty for not getting to the girl in time,” Cole added, gazing at the young corpse. “What a shame, she’s got a fine rack from what I can see.”
Vincent gave an evil grin. "Well if she’s still warm there wouldn’t be any harm..." Vincent stopped and looked at Cole’s disgusted face, getting the desired effect he had wished from him, but the new boy remained unfazed.
The teen began to walk closer to the stranger and smirked as he cranked up the fear juice, as he called it. He could feel the hormones drain into the stranger’s body. But Kyle’s face remained stone cold. No matter how many hormones Vincent would release in the kid’s brain, he wouldn’t have let it show.
"So what’s your name, new guy? I’m Vincent and that is my friend Cole."
“Pretty impressive I have to say, you killing the vampire all by your lonesome,” Cole added.
“Yeah, well. I’ve had some practice.” Kyle put the cigarette between his lips and strolled over to the corpse, trying to shrug off the bizarre sensation he felt. It wiped the high out in an instant and left him unsettled at one of the kids, the rich brat, but he didn’t know why. Had he done something to faze him so? Whatever, Kyle hid it behind his emotionless face, now the smile had gone. It would take more than just a little fear for him to show something other than demented joy brought on during a fight or through drugs. Picking up the girl’s body, he tossed her at the brat.
“Catch, Timberlake. Have her. Consider it a parting gift. And a word of advice, don’t give out your name to strangers. It’ll only end in tears.” *And the last thing I’m going to do is tell mine to you two kids*, Kyle thought to himself, taking a long drag on the cigarette and turning away. “Shouldn’t you two be in bed, anyway?” he asked as he walked.
Vincent grinned as the stranger turned his back. "You’re what, two years older than me? You haven’t spent like six months more time on the street than me and Cole here, Kyle. We both had fucked up lives, don’t be going whiney bitch on me because you think I’m some soft fucking rich brat." Vincent knew had had struck a chord by the way Kyle had turned round sharply to look at him and Cole. "And don’t think we can’t tell you are a demon either.”
"Yeah, your little fleshy Halloween costume isn’t fooling anyone," Cole piped in, unnerving Kyle a little.
Even before the words had fully left Cole’s mouth, Kyle crossed the distance between him and Vincent as fast as he could, morphing at the same time, and slammed Vince up against the wall of the alley.
Now they had his full attention.
Kyle held him there, sneering and gazing into his eyes, until just before Vincent’s clothes would catch.
Then he morphed back, but continued to hold him up against the wall. “Listen, Timberlake. I don’t give a shit about your life. I don’t give a shit about you or your cocky little sidekick here-”
“Hey!” Cole cried out in protest, but was ignored.
Kyle went on, “...who’s about this far from earning my wrath, too. I don’t care if you’re a rich brat or not. I don’t care how young you are, or how long you’ve spent on the streets. As blondie can testify down there,” he nodded at the dead girl, “I’m not averse to the loss of human life. So believe me when I say, poke around in my head again and you’ll regret it. Big time.”
Vincent began to smile, but Kyle slapped him. “Wipe that god-damned cocky smile off your face, you stupid little turd. That you smiled and poked around in my head tells me you are a brat. Soft, probably not. But just because you’re not soft doesn’t mean I won’t be afraid to put you down. Hard. ” Vincent wasn’t smiling now.
Letting go of him, Kyle dropped him to the floor, then reconsidered and reached out a hand to pick him up. *I’ll probably regret doing this,* he thought at the same time, *but the fewer enemies I make, the better. Younger than me or not, he’s still a telepath. That’s just going to be trouble.*
Vincent stood up and wiped himself off, ignoring his offered hand. “I like this guy, Cole.”
“He’s got spunk, I’ll give him that,” Cole commented warily, as he studied the kid, “But such a fiery temper… excuse my pun. Some advice straight from me to you: Don’t go puffing out your chest around in this town, because you never know who you might piss off.”
The quiet kid’s tone wasn’t lost on Kyle; somehow he figured that if the other boy was a telepath, this kid was also hiding some tricks up his sleeve.
“Now, Kyle, maybe we all got off on the wrong foot here. We didn’t come here to start trouble, we came to see if we can help you. You’re new here, that’s obvious. And being new, it would be smart of you to make some friends, friends with power.”
Kyle shrugged. “Not much in the business of making friends. And I don’t need help. What’s in it for me?”
“Well,” Cole started as he began gathering energy, twisting and forming it to his will. By the time Kyle realised something was amiss, it was too late.
“ Tighten.”
The air around Kyle obeyed its master, growing solid, holding the boy as if he were glued to where he stood.
“What’s in it for you? How about not turning into the Ken to Cemetery Barbie over there.”
Kyle struggled for a moment or two, then realised it was hopeless. “Okay, so I join or you kill me.” He tried to shrug, but that too was impossible. “So kill me. I’d rather be dead than forced into doing something I don’t wanna do. I ain’t afraid to die. Just ask yourself this: who’s wearing the Halloween costume now?”
For a moment, Cole considered tightening the bonds, which would no doubt suffocate the trapped teen, but instead waved his hand, dissipating the magic.
“Come on dude, I’m just playing,” he chuckled, eliciting a laugh from Vincent as well. “You know what, Vincent, I think the man’s earned himself a beer, don’t you?”
“Guts like that should count for something,” Vincent responded, moving back to stand next to Cole.
“So how bout it Kyle, up for getting a drink, on us?”
Relaxing now the bonds were gone, Kyle had a cigarette in his lips and lit almost instantly. “Beer sounds good. Still haven’t told me what’s in it for me, though. Besides the beer…”
Cole looked at Vincent and smiled. “We know how to have fun in this city.”
“Yeah, of the fanged variety,” Vincent finished, smiling as well.
Kyle smiled too, now. He wasn’t too sure if he trusted either of them, but he sensed kindred spirits in both. Kindred enough to see what they had to offer, but not kindred enough for him to step down off his guard fully. He didn’t want to open himself up, expose himself to the world again. Still, if they knew where there were vamps… And this time he’d be ready against betrayal. He’d guard himself against opening up to them, against getting close like he’d done before. He could make preparations, and cut his losses and run at any time. Besides, they already knew and accepted he was a demon.
He shrugged. *What the hell?* “I’m in.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
9:25am Monday 12th February 2007
Hong Kong
“What the fuck is this?” Garland practically shouted as he threw a packet of papers at Marcus.
Marcus looked over his father, noting the fine tremors in his hands and the dilated pupils. He wondered what Garland was high on right now. Cocaine? Amphetamines? Or something more exotic? Whatever it was Marcus really didn’t care any more.
“I thought it was self explanatory. It’s a writ. I’m seeking to have you declared mentally incompetent and have the courts transfer the family assets to my control.”
“You treacherous little shit. How dare you! How fucking dare…”
“Oh shut up dad! This has been coming for years. You’ve drunk your way through more money than most people see in a lifetime and don’t get me started on the drugs or the prostitutes. Tell me is a thousand a night really that much better than a hundred?”
“I don’t have to take this from you,” Garland snarled. “I’ll cut you off you bastard. Let’s see you pay for your fancy lawyers then.”
Marcus coldly surveyed his father, taking in the blotched skin and the reddened eyes. A lifetime’s abuse had prematurely aged his father. Indeed Marcus was surprised the man was still alive. This would be so much easier if the fool’s body had the grace to just give out.
“My legitimacy was never in question father. As. Well. You. Know. As for my fancy lawyers, despite the authorities’ enjoyment of the irony of watching a Dalton kill himself with sex, drugs and alcohol they’ve granted me an injuction. All the assets are frozen. My lawyers are happy to take payment only if they win the case.”
Garland stood there and spluttered, getting redder and redder and redder. *I wonder if it really is possible to die of apoplexy?* Marcus thought whimsically.
“Onyx,” the older man ground out to the woman stood behind Marcus’ shoulder, “Come here. We’re leaving.”
“No,” she replied.
“No?” Garland practically yelled and if he was angry before now he was simply furious. “No? You don’t say no to me, you little… I’m your master and you will obey. Now come here!”
Marcus glanced at the softly glowing orb postioned at one corner of his desk then fixed calm eyes on his father. “You aren’t master here, Dad. Haven’t been for a while. By the terms of the bargain I’m the head of the household now and Onyx takes her instruction from me. Now get out. I’ll see you in court.”
Garland lunged at Marcus and suddenly a length of steel seemed to materialise between them. Garland pulled up short and looked in astonishment at Onyx who held a jiann between the two men.
With a snarl of rage Garland pulled himself upright, turned on his heel and stalked out. When the door closed behind him Onyx spoke again.
“It would be so much easier if you were to kill him.”
Marcus sighed. Onyx couldn’t harm a family member except in defence of another, otherwise he might consider her proposal. However, if he was honest with himself...
“No, I won’t become a patricide. Anyway the courts will deal with this matter adequately.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Friday, 9th March 2007 – 6:53pm
Breath and motion filled Tash’s existence. Everything else had faded to a pinpoint and now all that was left was the air passing in and out of her lungs and the fluid grace of her muscles as she flowed from one movement to the next. Her bare feet hardly made a sound as she landed lightly from a spinning jump, the action transforming cleanly into the block/punch manoeuvre that followed.
Sweat ran down her face and body in rivulets but she never felt its tickle, even as it pooled in her cleavage. Her entire focus was on her kata, feeling her body’s rhythms in the symmetry of the exercise. She paid no heed to the training room door opening, nor to the figure that stood in the doorway watching her as she came to the final position and breathed in deeply as she drew herself into the ‘ready’ stance. Only then did she turn her head and relax her position.
“You’re late,” she said, not as an accusation but merely noting the fact.
Daye had watched Tash moving from one fluid stance to the other, noting the way the other woman’s body moved with grace and ease, like a sleek, dark cat. Daye considered, for the first time, what a fine animal Tash was. She smiled lazily at the direction of her thoughts, but that smile twisted into a grimace of annoyance when Tash finally acknowledged her presence, with an admonition at her tardiness.
“Yeah... something sort of came up. Watcher’s business,” Daye replied coolly, not even bothering to apologize. After all, what did she have to apologize for? This wasn’t a job, but a volunteer group, and she wasn’t really in the spirit of volunteering lately. Besides, after that disastrous meeting with Mr. High and Mighty Grand Poobah of the Council, Daye was in no mood to listen to Tash’s sanctimonious spouting about the importance of these little ‘sparring’ sessions. Daye didn’t mind the work outs, but everyone knew this physical training crap was really no match for what she could do with her magic... or for what she could teach the others if they were willing and had even a modicum of her talent.
“So... you want to do this... or...” Daye shrugged, obviously indifferent one way or the other.
In reply, Tash smiled and gestured to the bench where her shoes and jacket rested. “Get ready, and I’ll take you through the warmups.”
Taking the opportunity to grab a drink of water, Tash wondered at Daye’s frosty attitude, thinking maybe it was the ‘Watcher’s business’ that had her upset. “So...” she asked casually as Daye began to strip off her outer garments, “is everything ok with the Watchers, then?”
Daye moved casually over to the bench and removed her jacket, revealing the body hugging spandex she’d worn for the training session, a far cry from her usual loose fitting sweats. She started to stretch, loosening up her muscles, and thinking that this little work out might actually help her relieve some of the tension she’d been feeling all day.
As she stretched, she responded to Tash’s question. “I guess... Delancre is in town, with his band of flunkies and sycophants. He requested my presence at the house today. Not sure why, exactly, since all he did was spout off about my discipline and loyalty issues. It was a real drag, you know?”
For a moment Tash was silent. Then she asked quietly, “Uh, are you feeling all right today? Well, I know there’s been a lot of shit going on lately but... you seem a bit...” *Bitchy,* Tash thought as she searched for the right word to say aloud, “... on edge.”
Daye continued her stretches, and Tash continued her train of thought. “But given your track record with not telling the Watchers stuff... I guess it caught up with you today, huh? I’m sorry about that - I hope he wasn’t too tough on you.”
Daye stood, finally finished, and studied Tash coldly. *I shouldn’t have come,* she thought. *I just knew I should have blown this crap off, and her too. Now I’m going to have to discuss my meeting with that dick, and I so don’t feel like going into that with anyone.*
“Yeah, well, I guess he expects me to be the good little girl,” Daye responded. “I’m supposed to follow the rules, and blindly obey. As if. I’m just about through with Delancre and the whole damn Council, to be honest. What do I need them for anyway? I can handle things a lot better without their interference.”
Daye shrugged, then strode up to Tash, coming uncomfortably close to the other woman who was covered in sweat from her earlier exertions. Daye smirked. “I don’t really feel like going into the whole thing now, though,” she said, reaching out to trail a finger over Tash’s shoulder. “But I guess I should let you know that the Lord Delancre wants to meet with you too.”
She sighed regretfully and stepped back. Tash was... quite attractive, and undoubtedly it would be different, but... Daye closed her eyes and fought down the thoughts and impulses once again. This was totally inappropriate, and so unlike her. She sighed. “I’m supposed to arrange something,” Daye said, finally opening her eyes and clasping her wandering hands behind her back. “If you agree, that is.”
It took Tash a moment to register Daye’s words. Her body language, and more disturbingly her thoughts, had become almost overtly sexual. For a moment Tash was reminded strongly of the doppelganger problem, but dismissed that thought. Alice had been down the basement only last week to check on the wards and had reported everything was fine. Blinking, she was suddenly conscious of the outfit Daye was wearing. The tight-fitting material accentuated her curves and for just a second she felt an answering flush, then turned her head to study the weapons rack on the far wall while she composed herself.
“Uh, sorry, what? Oh. Um... a meeting? Yeah, uh, I suppose so.” She coughed, then turned back to face Daye after fighting down her fluster. “Yeah, probably a good idea to meet up with the leader of the Watchers’ Council. After all, we’re doing much the same sort of job.”
Daye shrugged. *You wanna play ball, sweetheart, be my guest,* she thought. “Ok, I’ll set it up later this week,” she agreed, squashing the annoyance that sprang from being the go between as she’d squashed her sudden arousal only moments before. “I’ll call you when I’ve arranged it.”
She scanned Tash’s body once more, and then smiled in what she hoped was simply a friendly way. *At least sparring I can get my hands on her,* she thought. “So, shall we?” Daye asked, dropping into a loose stance and awaiting Tash’s first move.
Tash relaxed a little. The strange emanations she’d been feeling from Daye had subsided. Now there was nothing much out of the ordinary from the Daye she’d come to know, except perhaps an elevated sense of excitement. *That’s just for the workout. Yep, sure thing. Can’t be anything else. Nope, no way. Workout only.*
“All, right then,” she said, “let’s see what you remember of your blocks from last time.”
Tash advanced towards Daye, going on the offensive early and strong, testing the redhead’s reflexes. Perhaps she was a trifle more aggressive than usual, but she told herself it was purely to help Daye perfect her techniques. She spun a kick aimed low, and Daye sidestepped it neatly, keeping her arms up ready to block the punches Tash followed up with. But then she left herself open for a second, higher kick, and Tash paused. Her foot hovered a fraction of an inch from Daye’s ear and she smiled as she said, “If I were a vampire or a demon, I just knocked you out.”
Daye snorted. “If you were a vampire or a demon, I’d have toasted you already and this hand to hand crap would be completely irrelevant.”
Tash’s smile never faltered, though she did lower her foot. “Yes, but the purpose of all this is to give you a fighting chance,” the smile broadened to a grin, “so to speak, in case you can’t use your magic for any reason.”
Settling back into her ready stance again, she gestured for Daye to attack her. “Your turn. Hit me with the same attack combo and I’ll show you how to block it.”
Daye rolled her eyes. The chances of her being without magic were rapidly decreasing as she learned more and more, but of course she couldn’t very well explain that to Tash. Not that the other woman would ever admit to it anyway. Let’s face it, people like Tash, people without magic, were always trying to compensate with brute force. Daye followed Tash’s directions, attacking, but she didn’t hold back. Letting all the anger and frustration she was feeling out, she rushed forward with the attack combo.
Tash blocked the attacks, but Daye was fighting harder than she usually did – much harder. In a way Tash was pleased. It was easier to do it for real when you’d practiced full force, but she knew she’d have bruises on her arms from the strength of the blows. The head-high kick came pistoning up, and Tash had to use all her honed abilities to twist out of its way, catching Daye’s ankle as it went past and using the momentum to pull her off-balance.
Daye was fully intent on the attack, a warm tingle surging through her. She was really enjoying taking the offensive and then Tash had to go and spoil it. Daye had no time to react as Tash grabbed her ankle and pulled her off balance, sending her tumbling to the mat. Daye fell, and fury flared up within her. She sat for a moment, breathing heavily, and then pushed up onto her knees and bounced to her feet. Without a word or a moment’s hesitation, she came at Tash again. She used the techniques she’d learned recently, raining blows that Tash barely blocked and even managing to land a few.
Sensing Daye’s flare of anger, Tash tried to fend off the blows and let her friend work off her aggression. But after the third punch hit home, Tash felt her own ire beginning to rise in response. *The hell with it then, if she wants a fight she’ll damn well get one.*
Letting go her sparring reserve, Tash lashed back as though she were in an alleyway fighting for her life. Soon Daye was forced to back up. One step, another. The sounds of fists smacking into flesh grew louder until Tash felt a tingle of conscience at the beating she was delivering. She paused for a second, noting with horror the trickle of blood seeping down a gash in Daye’s cheek. “Daye, I’m sor-”
Daye was enraged. She had misread Tash and her abilities, as was apparent from the rabid attack she was now under. The anger boiling in her bubbled over, however, when Tash’s blow opened the cut in her cheek.
She didn’t realize that Tash had stopped, or that the other woman’s face was filled with horrified regret. Blindly, Daye threw up her hands, drawing from the growing wellspring of dark power within her. With a hoarse shout in some ancient language, she gestured at Tash and a rush of force poured forth, driving the other woman back into the wall. Tash hit hard and slid down to the floor.
Tash wheezed, trying to catch her breath as she sprawled gracelessly beneath the wall. She looked up at Daye and blinked dazedly. “Uh… are you okay? I didn’t mean to… Can I just say ‘ow’? In fact, let’s make that an ‘oof’ and an ‘ow’.”
Struggling to her feet, Tash held onto the wall for support, shaking her head in an attempt to stop the ringing in her ears. “Ok, you’re obviously really pissed off about something. Do you mind telling me what before you beat me to death?”
Daye was herself stunned. She had no idea why she'd suddenly used magic to attack her friend, but seeing Tash sprawled out on the floor had momentarily deflated her anger, a feeling all out of proportion to the situation. Standing there, panting, she considered Tash's question carefully.
*Ok, my emotions are all out of whack,* she acknowledged. *Everyone is entitled to be off sometimes, right? So, do I really need to think so hard about this? Does Tash have any right to question me? She let loose and so did I. Admittedly, I wouldn't actually justify using magic against a friend, but... she's fine. No harm, no foul. And it worked. I didn't know if I could pull a spell like that on the fly... now, I do. That's a plus, right. So...*
"I'm... fine," Daye finally responded. "I guess I was just taking some frustration out on you. I didn't mean to lose my cool. With Alessa, and Emma, and now Delancre... I guess everything is sort of piling up. Don't worry about me." *Don't start poking your nose in,* she thought. *If you found out about the magic I'm studying – or what I've started teaching Cole – you wouldn't understand. Just butt out.*
Tash knew there was something more. It was clear Daye was holding something back, something big. But it was equally clear she wasn't in the mood to talk. *She's still really mad. I'll ask her in a few days when she's calmed down. She'll be herself again soon, I'm sure.*
Putting on a sympathetic smile, Tash returned to the bench, grabbing her bottle of water. "It's ok, I'm sorry I pushed so hard, too. It's been rough these past few weeks – hell, months – for all of us. Bound to be some raw edges here and there. Maybe we should call it quits for tonight?”
*Thank you,* Daye thought, forcing a rueful smile to her lips. "Yeah, sure, that's probably a good idea."
Daye strode over to the bench and grabbed her jacket. She watched Tash towelling off, and fought the arousal suddenly rearing its ugly head again. *Goodness, what the heck is going on with me?* She purposefully looked away. *I'm gonna need a shrink if these mood swings continue.*
"Well..." Daye headed for the door, "I'm gonna head home. I'll call you as soon as I set things up with Delancre, k?"
Not turning to face Daye, Tash coughed slightly then replied, "Uh, sure. Thanks. If I'm not home, just leave a message on my machine. I'll see you later..."
As the door closed behind her friend Tash let out a long breath and wiped her face with the towel, trying to ignore the sudden tingle that had started when she felt the rush of raw sexual energy from Daye. *Oh, man, Drew’s gonna get it tonight - if he survives.*
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
8 March 2007
Nikolai’s Apartment
Nikolai was ill.
There was no other way to describe it, he thought, lying on the couch as he was. He didn’t even want to know what his temperature was, not when it made his head swim to even sit up. It was bad, sudden and, little would he know, gone within 48 hours. Oz would find out, he knew. Nikolai wouldn’t be able to hide it, and didn’t look forward to trying to explain it to the former angel. The only reason he was on the couch was because that was as far as he got in the quest to return to his room.
Pulling down the heavy quilt from the back of the couch, he covered himself up and just lay there, shutting his eyes. Maybe if he waited about twenty minutes or so, he’d be able to make it the rest of the way…
Nikolai remained there for several minutes when he felt as though someone were standing next to him, though saying nothing. That told him immediately that it wasn’t Oz; he suspected that his guest would not simply stare. Slowly he opened an eye before blinking.
“What’s the matter, Kolya?” asked the almost-jovial voice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I shot you in the head myself,” he returned to the figure before him, failing at hissing it out in his illness. “I watched you die.”
“I’m quite dead, I assure you, Kolya. You know that even I can’t survive a bullet to the brain.”
That much was true, and despite the fact that odd things were happening, he was still surprised to see Lavrenti Sabarov – at least a vision of the man – standing over him. And intuitively, Nikolai knew that this was not the flesh and blood Sabarov who could do him any harm. “So, why are you here?”
“To get you to stop living a lie,” Sabarov returned. “Look at yourself, Nikolai. Meditation. This whole sacredness of life hippie routine. It’s not you.”
“The old me, maybe-”
“Don’t give me that, `I’ve changed, I’ve merged with a Xangyarj’,” Sabarov mocked. “I taught you everything you know about lying. You’ll never fool me like you have your friends… or yourself.”
Nikolai groaned again, as the form of Sabarov moved over him, closer to him. When the Russian was near his face, he mustered up enough energy to take a rather half-hearted swing at the man.
“Go away.”
"Are you okay?" Oz repeated, dodging the half-swing and peering intently into Nikolai's glazed eyes. They had assumed an unhealthy looking bluish haze over the last day or so. Oz himself was feeling sort of sympathetic to the Russian. While he had never had to endure a cold, flu, or fever, his wife had had plenty of them, as had Frank his son. Oz picked up the empty glass of water and scooped up the dozen or so crumpled tissues and returned with a fresh glass and a damp washcloth.
*I wonder what he is seeing in his delirium?*
Nikolai nodded slowly, noting that Sabarov seemed to have disappeared. "Thank you," he said, taking the offered glass. Nikolai drank down almost the entire thing in a single gulp. *This is some way to be a host, completely ill while you have a guest.*
"It's just bad memories is all."
Oz sat on a chair opposite his sick friend. "Those must be some memories, I haven't heard that much Russian cursing since the Revolution."
The long uncomfortable silence sat there between the two men. Oz had felt acutely aware of his non-human origins. He had to say something to break the tension and he picked the exactly wrong thing to say in his desperation.
"Who is Sabarov, Kolya?" And when there was no immediate answer, he blundered further, "Is he the man who murdered Ben and Zoë?"
Nikolai looked up at Oz in moment with a look of clear shock on his face. How had he known that name? Surely he hadn't mentioned him unless it was in the ramblings. He leaned back on the couch, seeing the form of Sabarov over by the wall.
"Are you just going to forget about your secrecy?" Sabarov asked.
He stared daggers at Sabarov for several moments before nodding to Oz. "Da. He was my old boss from Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti, though he's a touch on the dead side now. I got revenge for them."
*KGB. Still waters run deep, they say.* Oz didn't blink but did look back over his shoulder at the corner and imagined the ghost that was standing there taunting the sick man.
He shivered then stood and adjusted Nikolai's blanket before refilling his water again. As he sat he waited a long time in the silence. Suddenly it was a lot less uncomfortable, knowing that Nikolai wasn't 'ordinary' either.
"Good," he said quietly, "Zoë and Ben were worth exacting revenge."
Nikolai smiled. They had been, but that was before the merging. Some of that regret he'd had from before came back to the surface. A glance to the corner showed him that Sabarov was replaced now by a more familiar sight.
"There is an old Cardassian saying," the figure said, "Confession is good for the soul."
"Of course, Elim," he mumbled, before looking to Oz's confused look. He knew the angel could tell that he was seeing someone else before he started. "It was just like old times. Looking down the scope of a weapon, selecting your target... delivering the killing shot. How can they like me, let alone love me, Oz? Zoë or Alicia now; all I know how to be is a criminal."
It wasn't the act that made Oz's skin prickle and the hairs on the back of his neck stir, it was the pride in Nikolai's voice. It was done and done well. But all of the horror Oz felt at the description of the murder of another man disappeared with Kolya's question.
"It is a backwards world that has branded the hero a criminal, and a criminal a hero, eh, friend?" Oz laughed.
"A soldier kills because he is ordered to. He does it to defend his nation, his family and his way of life. He is not a criminal despite knowing all the ways to kill ruthlessly and to destroy mercilessly. He is a patriot. A criminal does evil because it is all he knows. Did you kill Sabarov because that was all you knew? Or because it better served society?"
"I only did what I had to do to survive," Nikolai said flatly. There was no trace of anything in his voice this time, no pride or remorse, just a statement of facts. Then he stopped to think on the question that Oz asked. "I sent my own father to the gulag. The gulag, you understand? Then I made sure I could not be denounced, and Sabarov decided I would make a fine assassin for the First Chief Directorate. When the coup came... when the coup came, I fled. Do you know what it's like, to have murder as your only marketable skill? To not care, then one day you have a demon merge with your mind, and suddenly... suddenly, you care."
"How ironic," Garak interjected from the sideline. "You make your best progress when ill. You should get a fever more often, Kolya."
Nikolai ignored the voice, as he became accustomed to sometimes. "I've told her, and... how can she stay with me, knowing that?"
Oz could think of no other way to tell him that Love is blind to all things except to share how it had changed his life as well.
"I was a messenger for God, Kolya. I was in the Divine Presence and felt His love all times in all ways. When I saw the woman I was to marry, my heart did something strange. It allowed me to ignore the obvious in favour of the real. I turned away from God to be with her. This wasn't a God of Sunday School and Bible Stories, Kolya, this is the Living God, the Creator of all things. Not something abstract, but real. And I left Him for her."
Oz leaned forward and looked into the blue-rimmed eyes of his fevered friend, "She will continue to ignore your past because she can only see her love for you."
Nikolai felt the urge to laugh but resisted mightily. He had even tried to help Oz, said something about whether or not God wasn't talking to him or he wasn't listening. What possessed him to think that he could even begin to counsel a fallen angel? He and God had a simple arrangement for all his life: Nikolai stayed out of His house, and He stayed out of Nikolai's. It had seemed to work, but now he had to go and have one of what was likely the most spiritual group of polytheistic demons in his head.
"He's right, you know," Garak chimed in. "I think you know it, but then you never listen to me."
"Because you never give me a straight answer," he replied, confusing Oz again.
"I can only point you in the direction of the path, Kolya, not make you walk it."
Nikolai closed his eyes for a moment, feeling tired again. "Don't mind the rambling. For some reason my subconscious decided to cast my spirit guide as a Cardassian tailor."
"Well, it got your attention, didn't it?"
"Let's just call it a Xangyarj thing and leave it at that."
Oz had completely lost the train of the conversation as the third unseen participant began to monopolise Kolya's attention. Oz walked back into the back room leaving Nikolai to shout weakly at his imagined accusers. Oz hoped that his fever would break soon because he was worried that Azrael might come back and start talking to Kolya in his waking dreams. And frankly, that was one pain in Oz's ass that he didn't need coaching his friends.
Nikolai waited a few minutes on the couch before forcing himself up, his guide having fallen silent. Shortly he managed to drag himself across the room and prop himself in the doorframe. "Oz, I have to know, with what we were talking about earlier," he started. "What am I supposed to do?"
Oz looked at the Kolya with his waxy complexion and blue-rimmed eyes surrounded by dark circles wearing his sweat-soaked pyjamas. *He really doesn't know does he?* Oz was amazed, *He has been so separated from his feelings he doesn't know how to feel them anymore.*
"If you love her Kolya, then share it with her. If she makes you happy, then be happy around her. And above all, if you want to keep her around love her back as hard as you can."
Nikolai stood there as he listened, the words sinking in. "That sounds like a good idea," he said, starting to feel a little wobbly. "And now, at just the wrong time, I shall pass out," he added before proceeding to do just that.
Featuring the return of Paul Dooley as Lavrenti Sabarov
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Saturday, 10th March 2007 – 12:20pm
When Tash arrived at the small café, she found Nikolai already there with a booth reserved. He stood to greet her and call her over to it, a cup of coffee at his side. A waiter showed up with a menu, asking if he could get her anything to drink. Once Tash ordered her drink, the two sat down and were left alone.
“So sorry about missing the meeting and our regular lunch,” he said. “I have no idea what that virus was, except that it wasn’t pleasant.”
Tash shrugged, “It’s ok, there seems to be something going around. Thankfully I seem to have the immune system of an ox,” she smiled. She’d actually woken up yesterday morning with the slightest of scratchy throats, but it grew no worse and had gone away by the evening. Beginning her assault on her margarita, Tash perused the menu in silence, letting the warmth of the alcohol suffuse her body.
“So,” she said finally, “we didn’t have much chance to talk about it when I briefed you on the phone. What do you think of this whole thing about that vampire and the stuff Monk told me?”
Nikolai paused in thought. It all seemed a rather remarkable story, he thought. Tales of Ghosts and Watchers, and the possibility of making a new set of enemies. Then again, he would be forging some new alliances tonight. “It’s certainly a rather remarkable story to say the least, though you don’t seem the sort to let a vampire live even with a death threat.”
He thought back to things she’d told him before, about what James did to her. A part of him said that she needed to heal, but a stronger part emerged. One that desired justice of a particular sort. Nikolai almost couldn’t believe what he was considering, but it made sense. “Though you know, some would say that after what he did to you, death isn’t justice,” he noted, before smiling. “And Monk said nothing about making James wish he was dead, did he?”
Tash laughed, a deep throaty sound. “I must admit, I’ve strongly considered just ignoring Monk completely. I mean, the man sounds like a pompous git. I think he just wants to play with his own toys and made up some excuse to keep me out of it.” She sipped more of her margarita and eyed Nikolai speculatively. A glimmer of the old Nikolai seemed to be shining through - from their last several lunches Tash had got the distinct impression he’d never suggest harm of any sort ever again.
It reminded her a little of Daye’s careless attitude at Thursday’s White Hat meeting. The woman’s quick dismissal of Alessa’s ordeal had bothered Tash, though she supposed that the Council members Daye had referred to must have been some splinter group, renegades. And Alessa did at least seem to be healing rapidly, though the memory loss still worried Tash. Still, it was unlike Daye to be so nonchalant about such things.
She sighed, finishing her drink and ordering another. Putting her friends’ peculiarities out of her mind, she watched Nikolai as he decided on his lunch. “You’re obviously feeling much better. I have to say, you sounded terrible on the phone the other night,” she observed.
Nikolai laughed hollowly. He’d felt terrible; even Oz seemed worried about how bad the illness had hit him. “Yes, well, I felt terrible,” he replied, remembering what happened that night. It wasn’t just the fever, the nausea, or the coughing that worried him. It was the way that it seemed to mess with the Finding. Or maybe that was all part of it? He didn’t know if he was perfectly honest with himself, and was sure that Tash would pick up on the confusion in his aura. “Although to be honest, it was bad enough that I was kind of hallucinating a little. That or having some really weird dreams.”
“Hallucinations tend to go with fevers. So long as you’re ok now.” Tash fidgeted. None of the food on the menu really appealed to her. Instead she gratefully drank down her second margarita and ordered a third. Still, one image kept popping into her head and she had to smile. “You weren’t dreaming about Star Trek by any chance, were you?”
Nikolai smiled. Trust Tash to pick up on that image, which had become so familiar to him over the past several weeks. “I’d rather not talk about my conversations with the Tailor. It’s a… personal thing. I don’t pretend to understand it, but that’s the form the guide is taking for my Finding. Which is all I’ll say.” He decided to leave it at that. At least this much of the Xangyarj showed through still in his personality.
Surprise showed on Tash’s face. “Finding? What’s... yeah, yeah, ok. That’s all you’ll say.” She sighed. “I really thought you must have just had fever dreams... this is something to do with L’Than, isn’t it?” Tash knew she was probing, but she couldn’t resist trying to satisfy her curiosity.
Nikolai raised an eyebrow. He knew that people would be curious and ask, but how to reconcile the need for knowledge with the privacy that the Xangyarj expected? He could, he figured, give the same answer that he had seen given so many times. “It’s a very personal, private time for us,” he explained. “I know it annoyed the Watcher who lived with the Xangyarj for a time, but that’s about all we prefer to say. That and the purpose is to help find our path in life, how best to live.”
“So, kind of like a spirit quest... Ok, I’ll shut up about it now,” Tash let it go, changing the topic completely. “Did Kate call you? She rang to say that she and Galen were starting to talk now. We must have finally got through that thick skull of his.”
Nikolai smiled. That was certainly good news. “No, I hadn’t heard that. Maybe things will start to get better for them now.” He was glad to hear about the two of them talking, since now maybe – just maybe – they could start to move on. While he would never admit it, Kate’s grief was starting to get him really feeling down. “Whatever you said to him out there must have worked.”
“Well, I just gave it to him pretty straight. You know me, I’m not one to beat around the bush much!” Tash’s laughter mingled with Nikolai’s chuckles, causing a couple of heads nearby to turn their direction. Downing her third margarita, Tash watched as Nikolai’s meal turned up. It looked quite unappetising, she thought.
“You’re not hungry?” Nikolai asked as he started to dig into his lunch. Tash shook her head, and he shrugged his shoulders. Nikolai gave up trying to understand American appetites a long time ago. They were just too bizarre for him. Still, he should eat up before his meeting. Then he remembered the way that Daye had been with him before. “I must confess I am not surprised Amanda was so nonchalant about the rescue. She seems to share the Council’s opinions on demons, after all, at least from when I talked to her.”
Tash frowned. Daye’s attitude had seemed distinctly off last night, too, while they were training together. She still bore the bruises from the session. “Well, I think some of the Watchers have different opinions than others. But Daye does seem a bit more blasé than she used to be...” She shook her head and shrugged. “I dunno, but I don’t think the Council as a whole must know about that facility in Colombia. Anyway, I’ll find out soon. Daye’s arranged for me to meet the Council leader.”
She gazed sadly at the empty glass and considered ordering a fourth drink, but she was starting to feel fuzzy and thought she’d better not. Fuzzy was good, though, to a point. It helped her forget. Breaking out of her reverie, she dragged her brain back to the topic at hand.
“As for Daye, well, she’s always known the difference between good and bad demons. What, did she say something bad about the Xangyarj? Perhaps you misunderstood her...”
“It wasn’t so much what she said as what she felt,” he started. You could hide your true intentions and beliefs in words, but she couldn’t hide her feelings. Not from him, at any rate, at least not without some form of psychic shielding. “Callous indifference at the suffering going on at the research centre. A lack of any conviction or sincerity when denying sharing their opinions. She didn’t need to say anything about the Xangyarj in particular.” Nikolai stopped, sitting back to consider Tash’s reaction carefully. How would she take the news from the resident empath? The man who Amanda couldn’t hide her feelings from?
Tash’s face fell in dismay. She’d had doubts about Daye’s attitude last night, but hadn’t wanted to believe it. “That... that just doesn’t sound like our Daye at all. Damn, I wonder what’s up with her? It’s... I dunno, a couple of the kids have started getting a bit wild, too, though I still think that could just be teenage rebelliousness.” Daye had always been the soul of compassion and understanding. Callousness just didn’t fit. She searched for a reason. “Maybe she’s just out of sorts. I mean, she had that nasty cold, too. Between that and Emma, she’s probably just having a bad hair week.”
“People do change, you realise? Quite radically at times.” Still, Nikolai could understand the feeling, given even his first impressions. The problem was that Daye’s emotions seemed so damn sincere. Maybe it was just an act that she needed to do, who knew? But he still couldn’t shake that dreadful feeling that Daye had been perfectly honest. “Let’s not think about it. Would rather not get too upset, since I have this thing tonight that I’d like to be in shape for.”
“Oh?” Tash teased, “Another date with Alicia?”
“I wish it was something so pleasant. We’re having problems getting the Armoury supplied, so going to meet some associates about that.” He stopped and considered her, remembering what they had discussed earlier. “You know, I know a guy who could help with your vampire problem.”
Tash considered Kolya’s offer. She was surprised by it, especially given his feelings of unease about the whole deal. Obviously these ‘associates’ were more like the sorts of people he used to hang around with. He seemed more able to assert his old personality over the Xangyarj these days, and Tash wondered when that had happened.
“Right now, I’m not too fussed about him. I’ll take him down sooner or later, but I’d like to do it myself.” Unlike Valerian, who had truly scared her, James just had her pissed off. She’d deal with him, but in her own time. “But thanks all the same, Kolya. Just be careful tonight. Remember your reflexes aren’t quite so... certain as they used to be. L’Than may stay your hand too long if things get hairy.”
Nikolai smiled at that. Trust Tash to worry about him, though there really was nothing to worry about. He went back a long way with the family, and expected that the meeting would be a simple affair. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” he assured her.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Wiseguy: Back to the Life
10 March 2007
Gromyoko Jewellers
Evening
It all seemed like a simple enough solution to the problem.
Reopening the Armoury wasn’t taking so long because of the attempts to repair the place. No, rather Reah had been reluctant to open up trading for a simple reason. Between her, Damen, and himself, they had all the contacts they could ever hope for. Kain’s, and later Paul’s, former contacts in arms deals had been located. There was just one small problem.
Muscle.
Nobody had enough for them yet. It was always the same: until you could bring in enough firepower to protect them when stuff went bad, they didn’t want in. Kain had sealed up the city too well. They wanted to see how the power vacuum went before doing any major deals of the kind Reah would be interested in.
Then the solution hit him.
When he told it to Reah, her reaction had been typical for her. “Great!” she said as soon as he said he had a solution. Then she did just what he had expected her to do. “Do it!” she shot out, before stopping and going, “Erm, what is it?” Then when she got the details gave him the go-ahead to do it.
All of this led to Nikolai’s current situation, where he was about to enter the main office of Gromyoko Jewellers, hands in the air as a gangster patted him down and removed his pistol for the time being. He knew the routine well; it would be returned to him as he left. One could never be too careful when a man known for pulling off hits came to see you of his own accord. Once his hands went back down, the door to the office was opened and Nikolai admitted.
Svetlana’s office did not scream opulence, but it was obviously upper class. Anyone coming into it would know that the person in here had more interests than a simple shop, that this was just the office she worked from. She motioned for him to sit across from her, still managing to look attractive in spite of her 44 years, though with a certain hardened look about her. Another man sat at the desk as well, hair slicked back, probably in his thirties. Sitting there, the clean-shaven man put him in mind of Robert de Niro.
“Andropov Andreievich,” she said. “Or is it Nikolai Aleksandrevich now?”
Nikolai smiled, containing his surprise. Of course she would have found out about him when she spoke to Dmitri; the old man had helped him set up his ‘new’ identity. “You’re very well informed, Svetlana Vladimirevna.” He motioned with his head to the other man. “Is it safe to talk around him?”
“I either trust him or he’s dead.”
Nikolai took that as a yes, with the matter of fact way this statement was said. She really hadn’t changed a bit. This also meant that she would want to get right to business, and not spend much time on ‘pleasantries’.
“Very well then.” Leaning back in the chair, Nikolai did his best to look as at ease as possible. “I have a business proposition for you.”
Svetlana smiled, not surprised. In her time that she knew Andropov, *No, I have to think of him as Nikolai now,* he had never been the most restful of men. She had, in fact, predicted that it was only a matter of time until he tried to get back into the life. “I’m listening.”
“You’ve been trying to get into the local arms market for several months now, without much luck I take it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Word on the street is that you’ve been trying to find Paul’s old suppliers and contacts but they haven’t been exactly forthcoming.” Nikolai watched the other woman carefully. He would have to tread lightly here, particularly with the way that the man was studying him. “They aren’t interested in making any deals until the dust settles.”
Svetlana nodded in acknowledgement. “Da. This has been a problem with the few we contacted. They think of us as little more than one of the common street gangs that have been forming.”
“You have the strength to win the battle, though?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question. Dmitri and his people would know an opportunity when they saw one. If they thought they had the opportunity to really move in, there would be a little mob war, but it would end with them on top. He hoped.
Svetlana was smart enough to know this. She also knew that Nikolai would not be here unless he had something to offer. From what he was saying, she could make an educated guess. “You have the contacts.”
“My associates and I have a number of them, yes,” he confirmed. “The problem is that we lack the muscle. They want someone they know can protect them, and that unfortunately is not us.”
“While we would have the capability. Name your terms.”
Nikolai glanced at the other man again, who appeared to be rather serious. Everything about that man screamed that he was ‘made’ but probably after his last job with the family. “My associates have a place which would serve well as at least one dealing spot,” he began. “Both legal and otherwise. We’re prepared to manage the contacts and do administrative work, in exchange for protection and the ability to actually move our deals.”
Svetlana raised an eyebrow. Nikolai didn’t just want to start bringing in weapons, she realised. He wanted to make the deals, to get back in the life. And not as an assassin either. “Do your associates have the manpower to administer all of the deals?”
“Perhaps some of the bigger ones, but mostly out of the store,” Nikolai admitted. “We would be giving you the chance to expand, however. Your organisation would be able to take over the old business Paul had.” He could tell that she was curious and more than a little intrigued. He was winning the battle already, as her emotions made it clear.
“A very tempting offer, Nikolai Aleksandrevich. What’s your piece?”
“We’re prepared to offer twenty percent from the shop,” Nikolai told her. “We’d also like to be cut in for twenty of the overall deals.”
“That is a lot of money.”
“Yes, it is.” Nikolai examined her emotions carefully. She was becoming more wary now, and understandably so. It really did have the potential to be a lot of money, but he didn’t worry about it. They would be able to hide it in enough accounts. You learned to do your taxes rather creatively when you were freelance. “It’s also an opportunity my associates and I are offering you that you can’t afford to pass up.”
Svetlana thought for a moment. It seemed almost too good to be true, but there was something else. He was holding back, but that could wait. “We would like to see what you could do. When can you make the first meeting?”
“A day or two.”
“Good. This is James Marshel, but everyone calls him Jimmy the Hand or just Jimmy.”
Nikolai raised an eyebrow as he looked at Jimmy. “The Hand?”
Jimmy shrugged his shoulders, not feeling much of anything at the nickname or even the memories it stirred. It was just business to him. “I’m very good with a knife.”
Nikolai shook his head. That was one of those things people did which classified as Not Smart, but possibly understandable if the guy was being particularly annoying or refused to come along for the ride. “So, what do you want me to do?”
“He’ll be going along with you,” Svetlana explained. “To see that you can come through. If you do, then we have a deal.”
Nikolai nodded at that, thanking Svetlana as he got up to leave, Jimmy showing him to the door. He stopped just outside of it before turning back to her. “Just one other thing,” he said. “I was thinking of coming out of retirement but if I’m going to working with you on this, it wouldn’t behoove me to be freelance, would it?”
That explained it, Svetlana thought. This would be the reason that he was here; Nikolai might be willing to trade control in order to advance himself in the organisation. It made sense, and he did certainly have enough skills. “One deal at a time, Nikolai Aleksandrovich,” she said. “But having made one, I am sure that we will be able to make another.”
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Monday 19th February 2007 11:40am
Hong Kong
The ambulance paused briefly outside the gate in the ivy-covered wall before continuing on, up the gravelled drive. Its destination was a fine brick building in the old colonial style, set in tastefully landscaped gardens.
Minutes later the vehicle stopped again, this time at the side entrance to the building. Out of the entrance came two men who waited as the doors to the ambulance opened.
“Miss Black,” one of the doctors called as Onyx exited the ambulance.
“Doctor Xiang,” Onyx smiled warmly at the young doctor, “Everything is ready, I take it?”
“Yes, yes, all the arrangements have been made exactly as you requested.” Xiang looked questioningly towards the ambulance where two men were unloading a gurney onto which was strapped an apparently sleeping Garland Dalton.
At Xiang’s look Onyx’s smile tightened a little. “He became somewhat violent when the judgement was given. We were forced to sedate him.”
“Perfectly understandable.” Xiang looked over the party. Other than the two men pushing the gurney and Miss Black there was a second woman. “Er…”
“Miss Nichols,” the woman answered to Xiang’s half voiced question. “I’ll be acting as Mr Dalton’s private nurse.”
A glance to Onyx confirmed the statement and Xiang nodded trying hard to conceal a smile. Certainly Miss Nichols was dressed appropriately though perhaps the skirt was a little too short, the dress a little too tight. Overall the attractive young woman seemed to fit the pubescent fantasy of a nurse rather than the reality of any medical practitioner the doctor had ever met.
Such arrangements weren’t unusual here, of course, and ‘Miss Black’ had already explained that Garland’s private ‘nurse’ would be dealing with any medication he required as well.
“If you’d like to follow me I’ll show you to the suite.”
Onyx and Miss Nichols followed the doctor as the ambulance crew pushed Garland’s gurney behind them. When they reached the rooms Onyx took a moment to peruse them. Nothing had changed since her last visit and if the accommodations weren’t quite as luxurious as the ones Garland had enjoyed at the family estate they were more than adequate.
The ambulance crew deposited Garland in the bedroom and then trundled the now empty gurney back out. Miss Nichols, after checking on her charge, had disappeared into her own room leaving Onyx and Doctor Xiang alone.
“There are a few forms and such like to be filled out,” the doctor said somewhat apologetically. “They’ll need Mr Dalton’s signature. Marcus Dalton, I mean.”
“That’s quite all right. My employer has empowered me to act in his stead. He finds this whole matter a somewhat… distasteful necessity.”
“Of course. I understand perfectly. Well if you’ll come this way we can finalise the arrangements.”
Out in the Open
***Sunday, 11 March 2007 – 9:34pm – Kate and Galen’s House***
A sharp white light pierced the darkness, so bright it felt like it was burning the back of Kate’s retina. She had to hold her arm up in front of her as she walked, her legs dragging through the cold, wet covering of snow.
She’d been walking for what felt like hours. The snow had already made easy work of her thin shoes, soaking her stockings and turning her legs to blocks of ice. Still she was walking; she didn’t even know why or where she was walking to, all she knew was that she couldn’t turn back. Back there was death. Back there was evil.
In the recesses of her mind, behind the snow blindness and the frozen limbs, she could almost remember what she was doing here in this vast, icy plane with nothing in sight except rolling hills of endless white. She was running for her life… escaping…
The wind was picking up now, making her journey more difficult, forcing her to walk in an almost diagonal fashion against the strong gales.
*I will keep going, I must!* was the unrelenting thought that kept repeating through her mind with every agonisingly painful step. Her feet were sore with numbness; frostbite no doubt settling in… still there was no sight of civilisation.
As the winds changed direction Kate faltered, losing her footing and fell – face first – into a large snowdrift. The icy flakes stuck to her face and hair, filling her nostrils and ears as she attempted and failed to right herself.
Lying in the deep drift Kate rolled over onto her back, watching her warm breath as it clouded up in front of her eyes. *It would be so easy just to fall asleep here,* she thought, closing her eyes as a fresh dusting began to fall. No fighting… no hurting… just sleep…
In her mind’s eye she could see herself shrouded in darkness, the last rays of sunlight vanished. Her body frozen solid, having lain in the snow for days, her skin tinged blue with cold… and when she opened her mouth to scream just a howling sound that melted into the wind could be heard…
Kate awoke suddenly with a start.
*I am losing my mind.*
Opening her eyes sleepily she rolled over on the bed to glance at the clock on the dresser. It was just after nine-thirty in the evening… Kate frowned, she could remember going upstairs for a lie down after a dizzy spell but after that it was all a bit foggy. Obviously she must have fallen asleep… a cursory glance showed that she was alone, the darkness beyond the curtains emphasising the late hour.
Drowsily, Kate sat upright, straightening out the crumpled lace of her shirt and the wide purple creases in her light linen skirt. She was even still wearing her sandals!
“Uh…” she groaned tiredly, holding her head as she sat up, still feeling a might dizzy from earlier, “Feel like I was hit by a truck…”
In the living room Galen busily tapped away at his laptop. He might still be on suspension but that didn’t mean he couldn’t catch up on some paperwork – and there was always plenty of that to get on with. At least once he was allowed back on active duty he would be up to date on all his case files – probably for the first time since he’d been transferred to the LAPD!
He chuckled to himself at that thought. *Damn bureaucrats! Worse than some of the criminals out there,* he thought jovially before returning his focus to the case of a domestic crime – a man stabbed seventeen times by his wife after she found out he’d been cheating on her with her fifteen-year-old sister. Los Angeles had more evil lurking in its streets than just vampires and demons that was for sure.
Kate could hear Galen’s fast paced typing downstairs as she hovered in the corridor. She stood on the staircase looking down at where he sat on the sofa, the coffee table holding his laptop and an array of papers that surrounded him. The computer screen cast an unhealthy blue glow across her husband’s face making him appear gaunt and unwell.
As she descended the staircase, her eyes glanced over the open files and various crime scene photos of some man covered in blood, his vacant eyes staring out into space. She shuddered almost involuntarily. Sometimes she wished he’d leave the more gruesome aspects of his work at work.
Sensing someone watching him, Galen looked up to see Kate standing in the doorway, her hair hanging loosely about her shoulders. She looked tired, like she’d just woken up, her hair a bit unruly and mussed up and her clothing slightly crumpled. Galen turned away, returning his focus to his paperwork.
“I thought you were in bed.”
“I was,” said Kate, walking into the room. She was still infused with that deathly cold feeling that she’d had in her dream. It had been a strange one to be sure though she could safely assume it had been symbolic rather than prophetic… unless Los Angeles was about to hit a big freeze any time soon. It was pretty easy to decipher; a long arduous journey, tiring pain, the desperate urge to give in to that inner voice that only asked for respite from suffering...
“Well I was… just kind of napping I guess,” she added sleepily. “I didn’t realise what time it was.”
She continued to watch Galen steadily as she came closer, perching on the far end of the couch and tucking her hair behind her ears nervously. Despite their encouraging talk a few days ago things had still remained quite… awkward between them. The sense that they were constantly walking a knife edge of emotions had only grown more apparent as their days together progressed.
“Galen…?” Kate asked tentatively, “Have I… … done something wrong?” Before Galen could answer she continued, “because I thought that, well that we’d sort of resolved things between us…”
Galen sighed, pulling the screen to his laptop closed before turning his attention back to Kate. He’d known that’s what she’d thought, that their little ‘talk’ after the wake on Wednesday had changed things, made them better somehow. He’d thought that too, for a short while, before it became painfully obvious – to himself at least – that nothing had changed. He’d barely given her a reason for his behaviour, just fobbed her off with a few excuses while artfully managing to avoid talking about what was really bothering him. And Kate… well he supposed that she knew the truth, maybe she was just too much in denial to accept what she already knew?
Kate sidled up next to Galen on the sofa and let her hand slide across his shoulder, rubbing at the well-defined deltoid muscles beneath his shirt. He had been working out a lot recently, almost obsessively. Kate knew it was just another way for him to vent his frustration but she couldn’t help but worry – his continued silence was terribly unsettling.
“Well I was hoping,” she said carefully, choosing her words with mindful accuracy whilst continuing her slow, deliberate stroking, “that we might make love tonight.” Her eyes quickly swept over him as she quickly gauged his response.
Galen closed his eyes, suppressing a shudder as he imagined how that might be. That Wednesday evening, when he had held her close in the kitchen had been their first and last point of contact ever since… …Ever since Emma had died.
Though he had enjoyed that feeling, Kate’s warm, compliant body pressed up close against his, he couldn’t help but feel disgusted both at himself and his wife. Their daughter was dead… how could they ever go back to the way things were with their happily making love whenever they felt like it? God… if Kate ever accidentally got pregnant again… he didn’t think he could cope with that right now. It was safer if he kept her at arm’s length.
“I don’t-” he began harshly then stopped, forcing his voice to sound softer. “I mean I’m not really in the mood.”
“Oh,” Kate uttered shortly, a little surprised by Galen’s direct refusal. She drew back a bit, quite put out for a moment. “Oh well… that’s okay,” she said gently, wrapping her arm around him again and leaning in close, “Well we don’t have to of course… we could just snuggle up for a while… I could give you a massage. You’ve been looking quite stressed out lately…”
“Look Kate!” Galen shouted bluntly, brushing her attempts to entice him away brusquely. His temper had flared so suddenly he felt quite embarrassed by it and immediately tried to compensate. “I’m sorry okay? I’m just really not in the mood… I’m allowed not to feel in the mood once in a while aren’t I?”
“Of course you are,” replied a startled Kate, feeling for all the world like a puppy that had been scolded for sitting on the sofa. “Just because it’s never happened in the past doesn’t mean…”
“Why do you always have to make a big deal out of these things?” Galen snapped in irritation. “I’ve been working hard, I’m tired – that’s all.”
“Then all the more reason to take some time off,” said Kate firmly, feeling suddenly annoyed by Galen’s attempts to chide her. She assuredly pushed the laptop to one side and sat on the coffee table in front of him. “You need to relax, you’ve been working too hard recently. I’m sure Anderson will understand.”
Galen sighed deeply, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. Why wouldn’t she just leave him alone? He’d talked to her hadn’t he? He’d done what they’d asked… why were things still so damn difficult?!
“It’s not going to work is it?” Kate asked quietly, her eyes searching out every tense inch of her husband, every irritated twitch, every barrier that he continually placed between them. “Why won’t you just tell me whatever it is that you’re bottling up in there?” she pleaded, grabbing at his hands and holding them firmly. “We made a start before, you told me how you were feeling… but it’s not enough if you’re just going to pull away from me again.”
“I…” Galen looked up at her, he could tell the time had finally arrived when his half-hearted excuses just wouldn’t cut it anymore. There was real determination in Kate’s eyes. “I can’t talk to you about it.”
Kate looked sad, withdrawing slightly and letting go of his hands in the process. “Well…” she began slowly, deliberately, forcing herself to make eye contact with him. “Well that’s too bad,” she said firmly, “because you’re going to tell me whether you like it or not.”
She paused, giving Galen a moment to take the full impact of that statement in; she had certainly sounded more determined and forceful than she felt. Inside she was shaking and trembling like an autumn leaf. Part of her didn’t even want to know what was going on with Galen, she knew it would be opening a Pandora’s box of trouble but she also knew that they couldn’t carry on how they were. What was the alternative? Continue to exist in this limbo state? Afraid to talk to her own husband? A husband who could barely stand sleeping with her in the same bed anymore?
“You once said to me that you believed in us,” she continued, forcing him to listen to her, “that you believed that our love was strong enough to see us through whatever life might throw at us. That… whatever the future had in store you wanted to face it with me by your side. Do you remember telling me that?”
Galen raised his eyes to look at her, “Of course I do but-”
“Of course you do,” Kate said with a wistful smile, “because it was the day you asked me to marry you. And I married you believing that you meant those things. Are you trying to tell me now that you lied?”
“I didn’t lie,” frowned Galen. Oh she was clever, he thought in annoyance, bringing up such things, forcing him to recall happier moments. “I meant what I said at the time-”
“So what has changed? What has changed between us?” Kate grasped Galen’s hands again despite his protests and squeezed them tightly. “I still love you Galen, as much now as I ever did, more in fact. I love you more every day that we’re together… you’re the only man I could ever love, you know that don’t you?”
Galen looked away, he knew this was going to be difficult and she wasn’t making it any easier by declaring her undying love to him.
“I know you love me too Galen, I know you do!” Kate cried out angrily, “Why are you trying to make this so hard?”
“Kate, just don’t okay?” Galen let go of her hands, rising to his feet quickly and launching himself into an agitated pace of the lounge floor. “Go to bed, I’ll be up in a minute.”
“Is that a direct order Detective Eldridge?” Kate stood, her face clearly annoyed that he had spoken to her in a manner more fitting for an underling at his office rather than his equal partner in marriage. “You don’t talk to me but you expect me to know what you’re feeling-”
“Well isn’t that what you telepaths do?” Galen snapped coolly, his eyes narrowing on his wife, “Know what people are feeling without their telling you?”
Kate felt every inch of her body freeze in response to his acid tongue, his malicious intent overwhelming her. It simply wasn’t like him to be so… hurtful, ’you telepaths’ – the words had been accusing, as though being what she was made her guilty of a crime.
“I don’t pretend to know every feeling in your heart Galen,” she said painfully, holding back a tormented sob. “I know that you are being purposefully cruel to me, that you seem to want to hurt me!” She tore at the delicate buttons of her shirt a little, feeling the tight fabric closing in on her lungs making it difficult to breathe.
“You ignore me, you avoid me, you don’t talk to me… you do everything in your power to avoid a situation where you might, heaven forbid, have to touch me. You spend your entire days as far away from this house as you possibly can – and I know that you haven’t been going to work so DON’T even think of using that excuse on me anymore!”
Galen’s eyes were wide with alarm at Kate’s words… so she knew? Had Jack told her after all… despite all his promises? “Your father should learn to stay out of things that are none of his business!” he barked back, feeling irritation creeping all over his skin.
“Jack didn’t tell me,” Kate announced with some level of cold triumph, “I followed you… did you think I was so stupid? All your work colleagues were at the funeral, did you think none of them would talk to me? It was the first thing they asked, how you were coping with being off work being the diligent, dedicated law man that you are. Imagine how stupid I felt when I had to tell them that, as far as I knew, you’d been going into work every day… imagine how I felt realising what a fool I was! All week I’ve defended your absence to our friends! Made excuses for you!”
“I never asked you to…”
“You were never here to do any asking! You were never here to do anything!” Kate could feel her legs growing shaky; she desperately wanted to sit down, not to have to go through all this. Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!
“So I followed you,” she confessed simply, “Do you have the slightest idea of what was running through my mind? I thought-” she stopped suddenly, finally having to sit down on the edge of an armchair and rest for a moment. “I thought you were having an affair.”
Galen sighed and looked away, propping himself up against the fireplace.
Kate watched him in silence for a few minutes while she regained her strength, she just felt so weak, so drained… “I thought you were having an affair goddamn it!” she swore angrily, her voice breaking, fraught with emotion. “And all this time you were just sitting in that park, doing nothing!”
“I needed to get away…” explained Galen pitifully, barely even daring to look at Kate. He could tell by her voice just how upset and wounded she was. “I couldn’t stand it in this place! The walls! I just felt like they were closing in… everyone kept calling, coming round... I just needed some space, some time to get my head together.”
“And screw everybody else?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Galen finally turned to face her. She looked exhausted, weary, holding onto a burden so great she was in danger of being crushed by it. “I did care about you, that’s why I stayed away.”
Kate looked at him warily, “That doesn’t make any sense. I needed you Galen, I needed you here, with me when I was deciding what coffin to bury our daughter in and what stupid finger-food to serve!” Kate shook her head in desolation, “Do you know what it was like having to go through all that stuff with Nikolai? Knowing that he was wondering all the time where you were, why you weren’t there making those decisions with me?”
“It always comes back to you doesn’t it?” Galen suddenly asked, his tone turning decidedly bitter. Once more he could feel his rage burning just beneath the surface.
Kate frowned in confusion at the sudden harshness. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” emphasised Galen, punctuating his words in the air with his finger, “that whenever anything goes wrong, it’s always you who feels the pain more than anyone else. Our friends… oh yes they’re there for both of us with a shoulder to cry on but it’s you they defend, you they sympathise with!”
Galen turned back to stare at the wall above the fireplace with hard, unfeeling eyes, “I have my own grief and pain and all I get is ‘deal with it for Kate’s sake’ like I am automatically the bad guy in everything that goes on with us.”
Kate forced herself to her feet, fighting off another dizzy spell as she rested her hands on Galen’s back gently, rubbing across his broad shoulders soothingly. “I never knew you felt that way… I… I didn’t realise… You’re not the bad guy Galen, I’ve never made you out to be.” She could feel herself getting teary eyed again and had to stifle a series of sobs that threatened to escape. “All I wanted was for us to talk, to be able to comfort one another. I could see you were in pain, of course I could! But you wouldn’t let me near… you still won’t…”
“And what do you know about suffering?” said Galen darkly, his body tensing beneath Kate’s gentle ministrations. “All you know about is your own pain, your own grief! You don’t know what it has been like for me!”
Kate suddenly halted her gentle caresses and slowly backed away, her face becoming stern and harsh. “How dare you say that?” she intoned, her voice descending into darkness. “For weeks I have done nothing but wait patiently for you, for the moment when you might deign to spend a moment with me! All I wanted was to ease your suffering! In my heart I have been quietly dying and you never cared enough to notice!”
Galen felt the sting of Kate’s words and his facial muscles seemed to twitch with tense concentration. He slowly turned around, “Kate…”
“You talk about suffering! I carried our baby inside of me Galen! I nurtured her, helped her to grow, my every breath was one I shared with our child and I felt every beat of her heart, every time she turned or kicked I felt it! How can you ever know what that feels like? How can you ever know the loss that I feel?”
Kate shook her head sadly, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. “She was a part of me, a living breathing part of me that suddenly… was gone! And while you went off into your own little world, sitting on your park bench all day feeling sorry for yourself, I had to force myself to carry on living when all I wanted to do was curl up and die! When I wanted to DIE Galen! I had to pick myself up, put on a brave face and carry on living and I had to do that on my own! When I should have had YOU.”
“YOU DESERVED IT!!” Galen’s entire body trembled with excess emotion as the words flew from his mouth unfettered. The words he had been desperate not to say hung large and heavy in the space between himself and Kate.
Kate beheld her husband with incredulity, never… never… never could she have believed him capable of this. Such… hatred… malice… She could feel it emanating from every pore, from every bone of his body. “I deserved it?”
“Why should you be comforted!?” Galen asserted without hesitation, his previous caution and concern for the ramifications of what he was saying gone. “You stupid woman! You stupid, stupid woman! How many times did I warn you… beg you not to use magic on our daughter… not to use magic while you were pregnant! But of course you wouldn’t listen because Catherine Wiccham knew better!”
Kate felt like the air had been knocked from her lungs and she weakly grabbed hold of the mantelpiece to steady herself while Galen continued his rant.
“I warned you so many times to be careful, I said you don’t know what using your powers might do to our baby and you went out and did it anyway! First that thing with Sorrow, then the whole basement monster at Poplar Avenue, then the thing with Mariah last year.”
Kate looked bewildered, hanging on to the fireplace as she forced herself to take long deep breaths. “You can’t possibly be serious?” she asked weakly, closing her eyes in desperation… Why oh why had she pushed him? She didn’t want to know, she didn’t want to know this. “You can’t blame me for what’s happened?”
Galen could feel his rage burning steadily now, unleashed on its path of wilful destruction. “Why not if it’s true? You’re a selfish woman Kate. You should have been putting our daughter first all those months ago.” He grabbed hold of her arms tightly, pulling her around to face him. “She depended on you to keep her safe!”
“Galen, you’re hurting me!” moaned Kate weakly, pulling her arms against Galen’s tightening grip. Eventually he released her, turning his back on her as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Kate didn’t know what to do… she felt as though he’d just slapped her in the face, her whole body was numb and at the same time a torrent of mixed emotions was raging inside of her.
“This is what you were holding back from me this whole time?” she asked quietly, her words emerging as a painful gasp as she fought to hold back any further tears.
Galen didn’t answer, he just turned his head to look at her, the icy coldness of his eyes piercing Kate to her core.
“You…” she began steadily, moving over to where he stood, “you think I killed our daughter because I used magic? What the hell is wrong with you?” Kate turned away, barely able to keep still for longer than a minute at a time. “I’ve been going out of my mind!” she moaned exhaustedly, “Thinking… believing I’d done something… worrying all this time about you… and YOU!,” she turned quickly again, pointing fiercely at Galen. “All this time you’ve been blaming me… … … …Oh!”
Kate felt a stabbing pain deep inside her gut, her legs finally gave way and she stumbled to the floor, kneeling and clutching at her abdomen. “Oh… oh!” she moaned as she gasped for breath.
Galen frowned at first, thinking for a moment that it was an act. That thought soon left his head and he crouched down, almost instinctively wrapping an arm around Kate as she continued to gasp for air and clutch herself in pain. “Are… are you okay?”
Kate pushed him away despite the agony she was in, and pushed him away more roughly the second time he tried to help her. “Don’t touch me!” she cried resentfully, taking a moment to compose herself as the pain suddenly died down as quickly as it had arisen.
“You should sit down,” Galen began, already starting to clear a chair of pillows for her. Meanwhile Kate stared at him in disbelief.
“After everything that you’ve just said to me how can you believe that I’d want to spend one single second with you?” She looked him up and down, real disgust in her eyes. “How can you believe that I would put our baby in danger? Magic is my life… magic is life – it is every vibrating living force in this world. I am born from a line of witches – how can you believe that it was magic, that is was me who made this terrible thing happen?”
Kate turned and walked to the hall, picking up her jacket from the coat stand and pulling it on slowly. Galen followed, real horror in his eyes as he watched every terrible moment unfold in slow motion. What had he done?
“I love you, I’m your wife…” Kate continued, scooping up her keys from the console table and jamming them into her pocket while wiping away the tears that tumbled from her eyes, “…the mother of your child… How can you betray me like this?”
“Where are you going?” asked Galen suddenly, grabbing hold of her shoulders and turning her to face him. His entire face was locked into an expression of fear and absolute shame.
Kate shrugged him away one final time, pulling open the front door. “Away from you.”
They both stared at one another in silence; a terrible thing had just passed between them. Something that could never be taken away. Kate slowly stepped across the threshold and pulled the door shut behind her.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Bad Boys
10th of March, 2007
LA
7:23 PM
Oz wasn't sure how long he'd be welcome at Nikolai's place. He would have to find a place of his own sooner or later. He glanced at the newspaper with the circled ads for rentals on it. He'd been rejected at two already. It would seem that having your face plastered on the news as a mass murderer ruined your chances of finding a good place to live.
Oz pulled his car into the parking lot of the condominium. He had just locked his car when he glanced down the steep embankment to the valley below. A flash of light had caught his eye.
Below him the green valley opened into a small neighbourhood. A sleepy area where a church had been built and four or five streets met in a little square. In the lawn of the church there was a small group of kids. Oz thought *kids* but they might have been as old as twenty or as young as fifteen, he was so bad at ages. They were laughing uproariously as one of the group waved his hands and transformed the steeple of the church into a huge phallus.
*Great, spell-casting vandals,* Oz thought. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he shouldn't get involved. He should call the police. He should let others handle it. By the time the back of his mind was done telling him all the things he shouldn't do, he was halfway down the embankment.
He vaulted over a chainlink fence and ran through a backyard and jogged across the street towards the group shouting, "Hey! Cut that out, do you kids have no respect for anything?"
The trio turned almost in unison in response to the newcomer. He was tall and broad, and had they been normal teens, he probably would have seemed very intimidating – of course, a psychic, witch and demon are all far from normal.
“Can we help you with something my good man?” Cole asked, taking on an overly polite tone of voice.
Oz looked into the eyes of the boy who faced him. Up close he was too young to be on his own, and too cocky to be wielding the kind of power it would take to do the damage that had already been done to the church.
Oz looked at the building behind the trio, it had flashing red neon signs reading, "Get out of sin free! Two for one special!" and the door was an open mouth with a lewdly curling tongue hanging out of it.
Oz pointed at the house of the Lord, "Is this your work? You have a lot of nerve. Messing with temples is bad business."
Vincent smirked. He walked over to the church, unzipped his fly, and started to unholy the holy ground. "Sorry, what where you saying there Mister...?" When he was finished he zipped up and turned to the man. "What you going to do, give us a lecture on how it’s God’s house and all that bullshit?" Vince reached into his sock and pulled out a straight razor, flipping it open. "Mister, you have just walked into a world of pain only Azrael himself could perform."
Oz grimaced. These kids were serious; he hoped that a show of strength would discourage them. The magic didn't seem to frighten him and he hoped that being bold would do the same. "I know Azrael, son, and you aren't him. He looks better in heels."
“Now now,” Cole interrupted, the air of pretentiousness still oozing from him, “No need for that Vince. We wouldn’t want the man thinking we’re hoodlums or something.” Cole turned back to the defaced church, and with a wave of his hand, all the graffiti vanished. “It was just a glamour, see? No harm no foul, right?”
Kyle, who had been silent so far studying the new arrival, took out a cigarette and lit it. Cole’s antics had been mildly… amusing, but he hadn’t been nearly as exciting for him as it had been for Vince. Now, though… perhaps now things would lighten up a bit.
“No.” He blew the smoke out in the stranger’s face. “I think some harm is definitely in order.”
*Oh hell. Stupid stupid stupid,* Oz thought. His fear must have been apparent because the three wasted no time advancing on him as one. Oz took a step back and then started to turn when the knife-wielding one grabbed his arm. *You never learn do you?* Oz thought in panic.
“Now my good man, seeing as how we’re on holy land and all, I think it would be only fair to give you a choice.” Cole placed his hands, mocking a prayer position. “Do you repent for coming and disturbing us? Only through admitting your sin can I save you.”
The other two boys couldn’t help but chuckle, as they formed a circle around the helpless man.
Oz was outnumbered, and if they had magic and weapons he was outclassed as well. The only advantage he had was his eons of fighting knowledge. He took a calming breath and assumed a defensive stance. He blinked his eyes slowly and faced the thin spellcaster. "I have home field advantage, sinner," he said. He stomped the ground as if to lunge but back fisted the knife wielder hard on the bridge of the nose. The knife fell as he grabbed at his face in surprise. Oz whirled his leg, hooked his knee behind the spellcaster and dropped to the ground pulling him down and over his own body so that the thin boy's head slammed into the third boy's chest. Oz rolled across the grass and came up standing, facing the three. He had escaped the circle, but only by virtue of his surprise move. He would not get that sort of break again.
“Guy packs a punch,” Vincent rumbled, as he felt a trickle of blood leak down his face. “That’s going to cost you.”
Vincent reached out his telekinetic powers, grabbing hold of the discarded blade, and with nothing more than a thought, hurled it towards his attacker. Oz had not expected the knife to fly towards him, but barely managed to avoid it nonetheless.
In the meantime, Kyle had helped Cole to his feet and proceeded to advance on Oz. “Look at the big man, thinks he’s tough cause he beats on a poor seventeen year old. How about you try that shit on me?” Without warning, the demon launched himself forward, bringing his knee hard into the man’s stomach. Kyle smiled, as he heard the pleasant oomph sound escape Oz’s lips. “There’s more where that came from old man.”
Oz felt the wind drive from his lungs and little bright spots swum in front of his eyes. Months of inactivity in prison when he could have been working out was beginning to catch up with him. He had no time for regrets and while doubled up he punched the bully in the kidneys. There was a satisfying grunt but he didn't relax his grip on Oz's
shoulders.
"Not hard enough, old fart," said the hard youth and made three quick knee jabs into Oz's gut before tossing him back on the grass. "You wuss, Vincent, this guy couldn't hurt any-gurk!" The kid had turned to gloat to his friend just as Oz jabbed his heel into the boy’s groin.
The telekinetic lifted Oz off the ground and slammed him onto a nearby maple tree. The spellcaster whispered a few words of power and bands of light encircled the trunk holding him there. Oz had exhausted his chances. They would have him for dinner. The bigger kid moved in and pummeled on Oz like a punching bag. Through the bright lights of pain he heard the telekinetic talking about rope. *Lynching. I guess it is my turn to be sacrificed on a tree.*
For a moment there was a break in the pain. Through a swollen eye Oz looked up and there was a man wearing a silk pantsuit and high-heeled straps sitting in the tree. His makeup was radiant. "Azrael? Save me, please?" Oz begged.
"Sorry, mate, it’s not gonna happen. I'm just here for the nuts," he said brandishing a bag of roasted peanuts. The pain resumed, and Oz didn't see where his former friend had gotten off to.
“Do you boys hear what this guy is babbling about? He’s more of a whack-job than I figured,” Vince laughed, as he took his own shot to the man’s stomach. “Azrael heh, crazy ass.”
Cole put a hand on Vince’s shoulder, gently tugging him from Oz. “Vince, buddy, save some for the rest of us.” The spell caster moved forward, but unlike his two comrades, he did not begin to tear into the man – that wasn’t his style.
“There is something definitely off about you isn’t there,” he whispered to Oz, as he put his hand under the man’s chin and lifted it so their eyes locked. Cole tried to see into the stranger’s being, ‘read’ him as he had learnt to months ago. But Oz was far from being totally coherent, and as a result Cole could only get a big jumble of senseless nothing.
“What do we do with him?” Kyle asked calmly, as he withdrew another cigarette, inhaling the soothing smoke and expelling it in a fancy ring.
“I’m bored, I say we just leave him here and find something else to do,” Vincent responded, grinning as he pictured himself later that night surrounded by beautiful ladies in some happening night spot.
Cole remained silent for a second, turning back to once again look at the beaten figure of the man. For an instant his heart went out to the man. Why had they done this? It wasn’t like him, it wasn’t right. As quickly as the sympathy arrived, it vanished, the effects of the Hyde Virus once again taking hold of Cole’s conscience.
“We’ll dump him in the aqueduct like that. We’ll be long gone by the time someone finds him.” With a wave of his hands, the mystic bonds that were holding Oz vanished, allowing him to fall to the ground.
Oz struggled to hold onto consciousness and pushed up onto his hands and knees. Vincent kicked him over onto his back and Kyle stomped him on the chest. Oz spat blood down his chin. Cole called Darmore Idrias! and held his hand aloft. From inside the church a long length of braided rope, such as might be used to separate pews for a wedding or funeral, snaked across the grass to his arms.
"Dude, that is so cool!" exclaimed Vince, "You have got to teach me some of that shit."
Vincent wasted no time binding Oz who had seemingly lost the will to struggle. He lifted the body mentally and Kyle grabbed it over a shoulder for carrying to the nearest overpass.
Cole checked Oz's pockets and was disappointed to find nothing of interest. No credit cards, no cash. There were car keys but he had no idea where the guy's car was so that was a bust. He dumped the wallet and things in the street and ran ahead to get a good seat so he could watch the guy fall.
When they reached the aqueduct Vincent used his telekinesis to raise Oz over the chain-link fences that prevented people from doing exactly what they were doing. But all of the lifting he had done this afternoon was beginning to wear him out. He had overextended his powers in showing off and Oz's limp form wobbled near the peak of the fence. Suddenly it dropped sharply and one of the ropes snagged on the top of the fence.
Oz hung limply from a rope around his feet head-first over the water. He opened his swollen eyes and looked down. Seeing his predicament he began to struggle.
Kyle started to panic, and Cole was searching his brain for a spell that could stop this from getting any worse. Kyle jumped up onto the fence and was trying to climb over the side when Vincent totally lost his telekinetic grip and Oz's full weight dropped onto the rope. He unwound like a yo-yo. His body whirled around and slammed into concrete and fence in its weird descent into the water.
Kyle clung to the fence staring down at Oz's body hitting the water with a splash. Vincent stared in horror as a loop he had tied caught around Oz's neck and held him, dragging in the water like some enormous fishing bait. Cole gasped as Oz's body dipped beneath the wake and the rope finally gave out releasing their catch into the river below.
The three boys stood on the street and stared at each other. Kyle was the first to speak, "Dude, that was fucked up," he said
"Yeah," said Vincent, "but it was also wicked bad-ass too!"
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Saturday, 10th March 2007 - 8:20pm
Reah blew hard, her nose sore against the bunched up tissue she clutched firmly and sniffed as she pulled the rotten thing away, an edge of her lip curled back in a small snarl. Quin had passed something onto her. She knew it. The damn thing had Quin’s name all over it.
“Two mousy sneezes and the bloody slip-of-a-girl’s over it. Passes it onto me and it’s a whole new story!” Reah muttered irritably under her breath, shoving the rag of a tissue back in some nondescript pocket of her training bag. Just thinking of Quin, lately, kept bringing back certain imagery she’d rather forget.
She then picked up her staff and raised her voice, “Sorry, nose is running like a freakin’ tap!” She resumed her defensive stance. “You ready, again?”
Tash nodded, sniffing slightly in sympathetic response to watching Reah’s sinus difficulties. "Sure," she replied, preparing to launch a new offensive against her friend, "but..."
Tash suddenly paused, straightening up and looking Reah in the eye. "You know what? I'm sick of all this play-acting. Why don't we go out and get ourselves some real exercise? It's been days since I went out and pounded a vamp flat."
Reah smiled gratefully, propping herself up against the staff. “No arguments here!”
Moments later the two women were rolling their bikes out onto the street. They’d both been training every night for the past few months, actually catching each other at least two to three times a week, planned ever since the White Hat meetings fired up back in late December. Reah couldn’t actually remember the last time they’d both taken their training onto the field together. Seemed like an age! She chuckled lightly to herself as she swung her leg backward, straddling her seat, then whipped her head up to Tash with an amused smile, “We should put on bandannas and start our own vamp hunting bikie group.”
Tash's laughter echoed down the street. "Hmm, does that mean we get to wear lots of leather, too?" she winked.
Throwing her head back, she breathed in the warm night air. Then the pair roared off down the street, weaving through back alleys and racing each other along the freeway until by some silent signal they meandered into a broken-down suburb. Street signs pointed the way to the local cemetery, and soon they were parking their bikes and helping each other over the fence.
"You know," Tash mused to Reah as they stalked into the heart of the cemetery, "it's amazing how many vampires choose to hang out in these places. You'd think they'd go for something classier."
Reah snorted jovially, quickly sniffing to counter her nose. “Yes, but over the years I’ve come to discover that vampires are a lot like guys.” She shot Tash a mirrored grin, “Neither of them have a bloody clue!”
The pair stifled their laughter as they staked out the surrounding area, scanning surrounding brush, headstones and earth for any possible signs of recent disturbance. Reah switched back and forth between her thermo and lowlight vision.
As they cast around for indications of recent undead habitation, Tash could no longer refrain from asking airily, "So, when do I add Damen's name on your lease?" She chuckled at Reah's look. "Well, you have to admit, he does seem to spend a lot of time over there nowadays," she winked.
Rolling her eyes, Reah playfully snubbed Tash and chuckled. “Yeah, nah. Tell that to him and see how fast he runs.” She smiled, “Doubt even I could chase him down then! Heh, that sarky bugger keeps commenting that I need some new bras,” Reah remarked, rolling her eyes again.
She suddenly squared on Tash, catching her lightly on the arm when a thought hit her, “Oh! Though I did see a lingerie sale somewhere the other day while I was passing down some street. They had some good stuff!” She mused, slightly frustrated she couldn’t remember where it was.
Tash gave Reah a few moments to remember where. When the moments passed into minutes she coughed. "So... any idea at all where it was? Not that there's anyone to notice if I've got pretty bras or not." Tash rolled her eyes, "And even when Victor was here that sort of thing didn't seem to impress him anyway."
She stopped pacing for a moment, her head tilted in thought, "You know, I've been thinking lately that... Watch out!"
Reah already seemed to know that something was coming up behind her: she dive rolled out of the way as Tash sidestepped the thing's charge, then both women whirled to face it, stakes at the ready.
“Fucken!” Reah cursed, roundhousing the vampire’s head with her left foot. She lunged in to grab it by the scruff, tossing it back to Tash who swiftly took it up, striking true with her stake.
“The place was just on the tip of my tongue too!” Reah groused.
Brushing the dust from her clothes, Tash resumed her steady pace beside Reah as they finished their sweep of the cemetery. Though if there'd been more than one vamp she was sure it would have attacked at the same time as the first. "Crap. Ah well, if you happen to pass it again, let me know."
Soon they'd covered the whole place. Nothing else had showed up. "Well," Tash said, disappointed, "I wish they'd repopulate a bit faster. This lack of vampires is depressing sometimes. Though, of course, it's a good thing too, for the people, I know," she added quickly.
Returning to their bikes, Tash suggested, "Maybe we should check out some other places too. I don't know about you, but I haven't even broken a sweat yet. How about checking out the aqueducts? Sometimes vampires gather along there."
“I’m game!” Reah complied with a small nod and a sneeze. Sniffing, she pulled out another tissue and continued, “I’ve worked up bigger sweats taking out the laundry.”
Grinning, the pair gunned their engines and roared away from the cemetery and its sole lacklustre occupant. Soon they dropped down into the aqueduct system, dodging rusted out cars and other detritus that blocked their path. They slowed each time they passed a culvert, but Reah's enhanced optics detected no movement, and Tash's vampire-attuned senses felt nothing out of the ordinary. Disappointment seeped into Tash's bones. She'd really felt like a decent fight tonight, and all they'd managed was one wimpy vampire.
Then Reah skidded to a stop in front of her and it was all Tash could do not to collide with her. "What? What is it?" Tash asked as soon as she'd composed herself.
Reah squinted ahead, focussing on something in the distance. “Up ahead,” she nodded purposefully, engaging Tash to look closer herself, “There’s someone up there… on the ground. It’s not a vampire, I can tell you that much…. Could be a bum?”
She shot Tash a contemplative eyebrow and shrugged. “They don’t look to be hostile. How about we make this a code 167?”
Tash frowned, “What’s that?”
Reah shrugged again, “Not a clue,” she smirked, “How ‘bout we make it: keep low and approach cautiously.”
Killing their engines, the two women quietly rolled their bikes along and make their way towards the seemingly unconscious figure. As they approached, Reah was able to pick up on more accurate details despite the darkness. *Well… he’s at least human, male… and pretty tall!* She grinned, leaning across to Tash’s ear, “Not too bad.”
Turning her attention back to the now clearly unconscious body, Reah’s face darkened at some mark on his neck, "Wait on..." tilting her head she squatted down beside him for a closer study, "Check this out..."
Tash eyed the unconscious form. Although the water levels here were low he was thoroughly soaked, which meant he must have washed down from higher up in the system. A long piece of rope was caught around his ankle, trailing behind him.
"Hmm," she agreed, "Not too bad at all. Well, not it you don't mind your meat pre-tenderised. He's definitely seen the underside of a few pairs of boots tonight." Focusing on what Reah was pointing out to her Tash grimaced. "Oh, nice. Who'd want to hang such a fine specimen?" The rope burn around the man's neck was a deep, angry red. It contrasted interestingly with the purpling bruises and bloody scrapes that covered his body. She was sure if she examined the rope around his foot it would match the pattern on his throat.
She bent to examine him for broken bones; luckily there seemed to be none. His pulse was steady and he was still breathing, so he didn’t really need an ambulance. She thought back to all the people she’d found beaten up or attacked by vampires over the years… All the ones whose wounds she’d tended until they awoke, at which point most of them disappeared never to be seen again. But some of them stayed, some became friends. *I don’t need any more damn friends – I have too many as it is!*
"Shit," Tash swore softly. She hated taking people to the hospital – they always asked so many inconvenient questions there. But she was tired of housing abandoned puppies at her place. She stared at him for a long moment, her conscience warring with her reluctance. Finally she sighed. "Ok, we'd better get him home and cleaned up... see who he is when he wakes up. Dammit!" She kicked at a rock and glared at the man. "Reah, why is it that these people keep winding up on my damn doorstep?"
Reah smiled warmly back up at the frustrated woman, “They probably just heard what a great cook you were.” Sneezing a half restrained sneeze again, Reah pulled yet another tissue from her pocket. “That, and hey! Penthouse!” she remarked playfully, then shot another look to the man, brushing some non-existent spittle from his cheek and winked back up at Tash, “At least you’ve got yourself a nice piece of eye candy for the night.”
"Hmph. Well, at least these days I actually have a whole separate bed to put him in. Not like when I was on the second floor and had to sleep on the couch..." Tash grumbled. "Well, wanna give me a hand to get him secure on the bike? I'm afraid that's it for my hunting for the night." She gazed again at the man and shook her head. "Not what I expected to catch at all."
“Yeah, well… just pray you don’t catch this cold I got off Quin.” Reah clicked her tongue irritably, a spark of anger flashing across her eyes again, and helped Tash with moving the man as they each hoisted a limp arm across their shoulders and half-dragged, half-carried him to the bike.
“I swear! That girl has the immune system of… of a bloody vampire!” Reah shrugged uncomfortably around the man’s weight. There really was something off about her cousin, and she’d started to notice a lot more increasingly since Cameron’s latest visit. “She sneezes once, like a friggen mouse! Meanwhile, I sneeze up fucken Niagara Falls!”
Grunting with effort as they positioned the man across the seat of her bike, Tash smiled. "Well, it could be worse. She's only given you a cold, not brought home vampire boyfriends. And if it's any consolation, I did have a bit of a scratchy throat the other day, but it never really developed into anything." At Reah's glare she chuckled, "Sorry, what can I say? I've got a healthy immune system."
But she could tell there was something more than just the cold bothering Reah. Never one to ignore a hunch, Tash asked, "Is there anything else up with Quin? She's ok, isn't she?"
*HA! Is there? I bloody wish there wasn’t!* Reah forcefully flexed the strains from her back, now free of the weight. “Quin’s just… a pain! You’d half think she’d have a brain at times, but no...”
Reah directed her glare into the darkness away from Tash. “It’s nothing really,” she lied. Quin really had done her patience now. It was more than Reah could take. *I have to sleep on that bloody bed!* “She’s just getting…”
She paused for a moment, white knuckled fists on hips. It took a lot of effort to not pick up her bike and hurl it into the wall. “She’s a teenager,” Reah laughed dryly. “It’s really beginning to piss me off! Ya know?”
The imagery from Reah was so strong and startling that Tash nearly choked. She covered it by coughing for a moment, then schooled her features into normalcy. *No wonder Reah’s pissed. On her own bed? Gods…*
Still, Reah obviously didn’t want to talk about it and Tash could understand that. But it seemed like typical teenage uncaring behaviour to her, so she simply nodded in reply. "Yeah, I think I do. Darian's having the same issues with Cole. I'm just glad I've never had kids - who needs the hassle?"
Tash ignored the renewed blaze of fury from Reah’s aura at her mention of Cole’s name and had to suppress a chuckle. Instead she carefully got on her bike and handed over the rope she’d found, helping Reah tie the unconscious man to herself and the bike. It was times like this she was sorry the Jeep had been trashed at Sunnydale. Still, if she rode slowly maybe he'd be ok. "Ready?" she asked when Reah moved back.
"Yup," Reah gave the thumbs-up.
"Ok, let's get this bastard home."
They made a strange sight travelling slowly through the streets, Reah staying behind a little to watch for slippage. But Tash didn't care how they looked. She just wanted to get this bum off her bike. *And into my goddam spare bed. I must be an idiot!*
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
***March 11th, 2007- Adriana and Dominika’s apartment- 5:45 pm***
“No, you stupid kids! It’s not Professor Snape!” Dominika shouted at the television set. Adriana sat next to her, eating from the bowl of popcorn. The Lautari girls took it upon themselves to finally rent the Harry Potter movies.
“Professor Quirrel?” the boy playing Harry Potter asked.
Dom, with a handful of popcorn, angrily replied to the movie, “No shit, kid! Vat did I tell you? Jesus, kids piss me off!”
Drea giggled at her sister’s anger. Adriana had arrived earlier, and now planned on enjoying a quiet evening. She reached to get her soda, only to find an empty. Adriana sighed and got up from her spot from the couch, only to have Sashenka bark at her heels.
“Can you feed Sashenka vhile you’re up? You’re t’e best,” Dom quickly said, her eyes never leaving the TV.
Drea groaned as she grabbed her glass. She then began to whistle, a sign to the small dog that it was dinner time. Adriana walked into the kitchen, Sashenka quickly following. She rummaged through her cabinets when she finally found the large bag of Puppy Chow. Drea walked to the small, metal bowl that was shining from the TV’s glow. She poured the foul smelling food into the bowl, at which Sashenka immediately ran towards and began devouring it.
Drea quickly poured her drink and returned to the living room. As she sat on the couch, she commented to her sister, “Jesus, do you ever feed that dog?”
Dom simply replied, “T’at dog eats more t’en I do. T’at’s t’e t’ird bag I bought t’is veek.”
Adriana shook her head and placed her drink on the coffee table. She slumped further in her seat. Suddenly, an idea rushed to her head.
“Hey, Dom, I’m going over to Darian’s, all right?” Drea told her.
Dominika placed a handful of popcorn in her mouth right after she commented, “Use protection.”
Adriana shot her a dirty look at which Dominika smirked. She quickly left in search of Darian.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
11th of March, 2007
Darian's apartment
5:58 PM
Adriana knocked softly on Darian’s door, waiting for a reply. It had been a week since she last saw him, and she really did want to see him again. Drea waited patiently outside the door, her foot tapping. After a moment, when it became obvious no one was coming, she took it upon herself to go in.
*Not locked,* she thought, unsurprised as the door swung silently open, granting her entrance. *Someone like Darian doesn’t really have to worry about criminals while he’s home.* The thought brought a smile to her lips; what girlfriend wouldn’t enjoy knowing her boyfriend was stronger than the majority of people on the planet?
“Darian?” she called out quietly, scanning the kitchen. “Darian…” she hushed as she saw her boyfriend’s large form huddled on the couch, fast asleep. *Must be tired, he didn’t even bother taking off his clothes.*
Gliding over to him, Adriana carefully sat on the edge of the sofa as not to wake him (yet) and bent over to place a tender kiss on his soft lips.
His beautiful amethyst eyes fluttered open, lazily, only to widen with pleasant surprise when he realized who it was.
“Did you miss me?” she asked quietly, moving her hands through his dark hair.
“Of course,” he responded, sitting up, and returning the kiss she had just granted him.
Adriana crossed her legs and smiled in reaction to his kiss. “What have you been up to, Dar? Dom mentioned to me about some commotion going on around here about a funeral. Care to explain?” she asked him.
The happiness in his visage quickly faded as he thought back to the memorial service. “My friend Kate’s daughter, she passed away last week,” he said solemnly. “Everything happened so suddenly, it took us all by surprise.”
After a moment of silence, Adriana noticed that the apartment was too quiet. Usually, Cole was blasting his music in his room or watching TV. Once in awhile, he would come from his room for a soda and always said hello, even the last times when he had been heartbroken about Chance’s demise.
“Where’s Cole? Surely you wouldn’t let him be partying on a school night.” she questioned, looking for signs around the apartment for the teenager.
Darian’s head fell back into the comfort of the couch, as an exasperated sigh escaped his lips. “I don’t know.” Worry lines etched in his youthful face. “We had a fight a few nights ago, and he ran off. I’ve been out looking for him every day since.”
Adriana leaned back and gave him a hug. “This is not turning out to be a very good week,” she commented, her fingers twisting through Darian’s hair. She sighed and looked into his violet eyes. “I’m sure you’ll find him, and when I’m going around the city, I’ll be sure to have my eyes peeled,” Drea reassured him.
Before he could voice his thanks Drea had changed her position, moving her petite frame closer to his. A moment later, their lips were locked in a passionate embrace, making up for the week they had spent apart.
Season Four: Mar 1, 2007 - Jun 7, 2007
Sunday, 11th March 2007 – 10:17am
Azrael was out in the green freshly mowed lawn standing at the grill. Frank was tossing a Frisbee to a spry German shepherd who was gleefully jumping up to catch it and trotting it back. Margaret was in the kitchen. The white picket fence around the yard gleamed in the summertime sun.
Margaret called out, "Az, dear, how long before dinner is ready?"
Azrael poked the meat on the grill, "Not long, he's almost cooked."
He jabbed a fork into the grilling meat and held it up. Ozimandius dangled from the long fork and grease dripped from him into the fire, making it leap at his heels. Azrael examined it critically. "It’s a tough cut, hon. Why did you pick this one again?"
Oz woke with a start.
Sounds of movement and smells of coffee wafted in from the other room. Oz slid out of bed and a quick search yielded a pair of hugely oversized track pants. The former owner must have been eight feet tall. Oz rolled up the legs and wore them anyway. He pulled on a t-shirt that hung below his knees.
He stepped out into the room and immediately regretted it. The light assaulted his head and he winced at the pain in his ribs and legs. He touched his face and felt the swollen bruises and cuts. An attractive black woman was seated at a small café-style table reading a newspaper. She was wearing black gloves in stark contrast to her khaki shorts and colourful top. A black 10mm pistol sat on the table next to her coffee. While she didn't reach for it, she also didn't move her hand far from it.
"Th-" Oz's voice was raw and he coughed to clear it, "Thank you, I think? I take it you pulled me out of the aqueduct."
Tash eyed the man she and Reah had rescued the previous night. She'd dabbed at his face as much as she could, but he was still crusted with dirt and dried blood. His matted hair hung lankly over broad shoulders, but he stood hunched over and it seemed to Tash that it was only partly due to the pain he must be feeling in his bruised ribs. It was as though he were accustomed to shrinking in on himself.
“Yeah," she nodded. "You actually woke up for a while last night, but I'm not surprised you don't remember it. You were able to tell me the president was David Palmer, so I figured you weren't concussed."
Putting down her paper she stood and helped him to a seat. "My name's Tash, by the way. Natasha Brookes. Do you feel up to eating, or do you just want to start with water?"
Oz hesitated in response to the stranger's kindness. Then he surrendered. The pain in his stomach was hunger, but his throat was raw and there was a taste in his mouth that begged for water.
“Water. My name is Oz. Ozimandius DeAngelo. Thank you for your kindness, Tash. I hope you will allow me a shower and return my clothes as well."
She was filling a glass by the time he said his name and he could almost feel the imperceptible stiffening of her posture at the sink. Oz looked at the gun on the table and wondered how soon she would get back to it.
Ozimandius DeAngelo. Keeping her surprise off her face as she walked back with his glass, she still couldn't help but glance at the paper she'd just been reading. It had contained yet another article on the suspected murderer of over a hundred people at a church just last Christmas. And now that she thought about it, beneath the grime he could well be the same man whose photo smiled out from the pages of that paper.
Seating herself she swept the newspaper from the table, taking the gun with it and laying it in her lap. Ozimandius was unarmed, and she intended to keep him that way. Her brain ticked over quickly, inventorying everything in the second bedroom that he might have taken as a weapon. Outwardly, she smiled sweetly.
"Sure, Oz... do you mind if I call you Oz? I washed your clothes last night, but they're a bit ripped I'm afraid. There's a towel on the rail in the bathroom. Help yourself."
Oz looked up through stringy hair at her plastic smile that clearly telegraphed, ‘One false move and you are dog meat’.
"You are dying to ask, aren't you? Everyone wants to know what happened. They ask me at grocery stores when I give them my credit card. They ask me in bars when I present an ID. My lawyer took my case because he had to know. Do you want to know about the 'Christmas Story' Tash?"
Oz fixed her with one eye partially swollen shut. He felt like some evil dredged from the river Styx come to Earth to spread disease and pestilence. He wasn't in the mood for being the good guy he always tried to be. That only got him beaten and drowned.
Today he was an asshole because he felt like shit.
Tash dropped the smile faster than a staked vampire will turn to dust. "I don't think I want to know. I don't need to hear some crap about how you've got a shitty life and how you just snapped that day. Yeah, I know Christmas is a tough time for a lot of people when the ones you love can't be there." Tash's voice dried up for a second. For just a moment, the briefest moment, that Christmas Eve had delivered her most cherished wish... but she'd known it was false.
Forging ahead through the pain she continued, "I don't want to hear any of that. All I know is that a lot of people died that day and that you yourself have said you were to blame. So someone caught up with you about it. Rough justice, maybe, and I'm not saying I agree with it, but I can understand it. So have your shower, drink your water and get out of my sight."
Oz drank his water in silence. He set the glass gently on the table and stood up jerkily because of the pain. "I figured you recognised me and dragged me out of the river to rough me up some more over it. You could have left me to die there. What you believe about me doesn't matter because I know what happened there. I told the jury that none of those people would have died if I had not been there. But I didn't kill them. No forensic evidence exists to prove I killed them, no witnesses saw them die at my hands, and there is no truth that I murdered any of them. But they died because I was there. Thank you for pulling me out of the aqueduct. I’ll take that shower and won't trouble you any more. Sorry to have been so rude."
And with that he walked into the bathroom and closed the door quietly.
A pang of conscience hit Tash as she listened to the water splashing in the next room. Why had she said all that? Was it because her Christmas Eve had been so bad as well? When she'd first heard about the massacre she'd felt it resonate with her own feelings about that night. Looking over at the closed bathroom door she wondered if she was taking it out on him unfairly. Normally she'd have listened to his side of it, determined the truth for herself. And his words had rung true. He hadn't killed them himself.
Her curiosity rose. So what had happened? In all the transcripts she'd read of the case, there had been no real explanation given over the events that had transpired. Along with 99% of the population of LA, she'd taken that as an indication of his guilt.
When Oz emerged again a few minutes later Tash had prepared eggs, toast and coffee and laid them out on the table. Gesturing to them she said, "Look, I'm sorry. I jumped to conclusions back there – it's not something I normally do. I believe you when you say you didn't kill them yourself. But I'm curious. Why then say they died because of you? I mean, nearly everyone in this town thinks you did it because of that."
Oz took the apology and tried to explain the complexities of God and the Law between bites of food and sips of coffee. "In the courtroom I testified that I received a 'prophecy' of an apocalyptic event instigated by Reverend Reginald. I attempted to stop it and was unable to do so. Detective Anderson, who was fated to stop the event, arrived.
“He stopped the event and subsequently everyone who witnessed it, except me because I had seen the prophecy and Detective Anderson because he had not seen the event, was killed by the will of the Lord. Had I not been there, Detective Anderson would have seen the event, killed Reginald and died, leaving everyone else untouched. My testimony was ruled inadmissible because a prophecy which is from the Lord is 'hearsay'.
“Further, I was ordered by the court to not repeat my testimony to anyone else. Doing so is a violation of my release and would land me back in jail. So I owe you my life and I am trusting you with my freedom."
Oz mopped up the last of his eggs with the last of his toast and washed it down with his coffee.
Leaning back as Oz told his tale, Tash listened with initial incredulity, especially as she heard the part where James Anderson, Galen's clueless partner, was meant to have stopped an apocalypse single-handedly. Incredulity turned to wonder at Oz’s mental state since he obviously believed everything he was saying was true, and then finally she thought about all the weird shit she'd seen since coming to LA and thought that perhaps it had all happened just as Oz said. At the end she waved away Oz's concerns, dismissing them with a snort. "The only people I could tell who would believe me don't give a damn about the police."
Fidgeting in her seat, Tash watched Oz quietly for a moment. Her feelings from last night remained – she really didn't need another lost puppy to look after, and the sense of loss Oz carried around with him was enough to engulf a dozen Tashs. It put her on edge, made her feel as though she were standing on a precipice gazing into a bottomless pit. She already had her own pit of despair and didn't need another, especially with her other friends' problems threatening to drown her.
Still, curiosity burned within her and she just had to know more. She figured she'd start with something simple. One of her questions was if he was just a religious nutter or whether he had some real connection with the world of the supernatural, so she began there. "So... do you often get visions and prophecies?"
Oz wondered how much to tell her. He could tell her about Margaret, Frank, Brinkley, and Azrael. He could give her a cover story. He could dismiss the question. He could tell the truth. "No," he said truthfully, "And I didn't really get one that night. But the truth was more than I wanted to try to explain to a jury. The truth is more difficult to justify, so I gave them a story that summarized what had happened."
Tash's expression indicated that the price of the meal was the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Oz sighed. He knew that Tash wouldn't really believe him. Even Nikolai sort of politely tolerated Oz's belief. Only little Ben had taken his reality at face value.
"I used to be an Angel. I became mortal for the love of a woman. When she died, I changed my name and moved. Father Reginald recognised me as an angel and taunted me. I realized that in order for him to do that he would have to be partially divine himself. So I sought out an Archangel to eliminate him and inadvertently disrupted the flow of Fate that the Idea had set in motion. My awareness of the actions of the divine made my presence a problem so the Idea rectified it by the most direct route possible. Lots of death."
Oz stared at the empty coffee cup for a second. He picked it up and filled it with deliberate slowness. Tash's jaw was only just closing as he sat back down. "In a way," he said quietly, "it was truth. But it wasn't entirely accurate."
"Angel, huh?" Tash said sardonically. Oz certainly believed it, but she still wasn't convinced he wasn't just a religious nutter. Personally she didn't hold much truck with God, but then if demons and vampires existed who wasn't to say that God, Satan and angels couldn't exist too? And it still hadn't answered her question.
Sighing, she tried another tack. "So, when you're not pining for your lost lady love or being involved in massacres, what do you do?"
It was Oz's turn to be sarcastic, "Before or after I was arrested and thrown into jail for three months?"
Tash let her chair drop back onto all fours with a bang, her eyes narrowed. "Well, it depends on whether you make a habit of having the shit beaten out of you. Maybe I dragged your sorry arse out of the aqueduct because I didn't want to see you die there, and maybe I was just trying to work out if there's some new beastie out there that I need to worry about. But now it seems it was just some guys who figured you were guilty and deserved punishment. Was that what it was? Was it someone who lost a loved one in that church? Was it someone who recognised your face? Or was it something else?”
Oz sipped his coffee calmly. Inside he ached to unleash some great vengeance and furious anger on her. But he really didn't feel up to it physically. He coughed again and said, "I tried to help at another church and got beaten for my trouble. Seems every time I go to a church for the right reason people get hurt. This time, luckily, it was just me."
He felt like she was indulging his delusions, or perhaps she was just pushing him to see how crazy he really was. Oz had nothing to prove to her so he took a deep breath and released some of his antagonism. "It was some kids vandalizing a church. I stepped in to stop them and they pulled out some serious stuff. Knives, what felt like body armour, and one of them was casting spells. Another could have been telekinetic. Not so sure about that one, I went down pretty quickly."
Tash frowned, taking Oz completely seriously for the first time since their conversation had started. "Can you describe these kids? The spellcaster, especially... did he have blonde hair, cut short? Looks about fifteen, sixteen, but been around the block a few times?" Her voice dropped as she muttered almost to herself, "Nah, couldn't have been... he'd never get mixed up in anything like this."
Oz sipped the last of his coffee, "That was him. Thin kid. He had two others with him too, a kid with brown hair, blue eyes, and an attitude. The other one was darker, more angular, but hard. All of them could have been in the movies, but hey, this is LA where all the beautiful people live."
”Hmm, I don't think I know the other two, but I know a kid who could be the mage... but it's just not like him at all to do anything like this."
In the silence that followed she raised her eyes to survey Oz. It was crunch time. He had rested, was fed and cleaned. He seemed ok apart from a few bumps and scrapes, and that nasty rope burn around his throat. What to do with him? She had to admit, she was beginning to feel irritated by Oz. Sure, he was pretty enough to look at now he was all cleaned up, but he exuded an air of self deprecation that clung to him and set her teeth on edge. But she had to ask, so she forced the words out of her mouth.
"Have you got someplace to stay?"
Oz nodded, “I am staying with my friend Nikolai for a few days until I can find a vacant apartment. Are there any vacancies here in this building? Do you know?”
A sense of inevitability settled over Tash. "Nikolai Makarov?" she asked, somehow already knowing the answer.
At Oz's surprised nod, Tash sighed in resignation. So, even without having Oz taking up space in Poplar Avenue, she was guaranteed to run into him if he was a friend of Kolya's. She really didn't want to, though. Something about the guy just got under her skin. At least she could answer truthfully about the apartments here.
"No, I'm sorry. I just rented out the last available apartment last week." It was true – the only empty flat was 205. Hers and Victor's. Nobody was going to be living there, not while she owned Poplar Avenue.
"Sorry," she added. "Maybe there's a vacancy in Kolya's block?" Before the words were out of her mouth she was kicking herself. Damn, if he moved into the same building as Nikolai she was bound to run into him again. *Please say no, please say no,* she thought furiously.
Oz shook his head, "None. I had rented the last flat, and was evicted while in jail. I'll find something soon, it is just a matter of getting people to realize I was not convicted of murder, only accused of it. Innocent until proven guilty in this country doesn't hold a lot of water with landlords."
Oz tilted his cup and saw it was empty again. He pushed back the chair and hiked up the oversized running pants before standing again. "Tash, I appreciate the time, and the rescue, but I have imposed enough. I owe you. I'll just take my clothes and go. I don't suppose you found my wallet in there did you? I may need to borrow cab fare too."
Tash grimaced and shook her head, "Sorry, your pockets were empty." Even as she spoke she was reaching into her pocket for her own wallet. Cab fare was a cheap price to pay to get rid of this guy, she figured.
And if Nikolai was his friend, then maybe he could help Oz out with getting a place to live. After all, Kolya was all touchy-feely these days. Handing over a fifty dollar bill, she said, "Maybe you could ask Nikolai to help with an apartment. He could front for you if you're having trouble. Anyway," she added as she ushered Oz to the door, "take it easy out there. Try not to get beaten up by gangs of kids any more, ok?"
Oz took the money with a pang of regret. "I'll pay you back, I promise. I really do owe you a lot more than the money. Thanks Tash. I can say it has been a pleasure meeting you, and maybe we can become friends someday."
Oz could tell from her expression that that would happen when he sprouted wings and flew. But Oz knew that miracles could happen at any time, and he wasn't quite ready to give up all hope yet.
"Of course," Tash said with an insincere smile. "Glad to have met you too, Oz. I just wish it had been under happier circumstances." *And that you weren't such a creepy bastard.*
"We're on the third floor here, so you have a few stairs to reach the front door. You'll be ok, right?" Hardly waiting for an answer, Tash opened the door and watched with relief as Oz walked onto the landing.
He turned to face her, probably to say something saccharine, but she cut him off, adding almost as an afterthought even as she closed the door, "And don't worry about the money. Consider it my good deed for the day."
daye comes home early
*** Saturday, March 10, 2007 2 pm ***
*** Daye’s house ***
Daye stood in the doorway of the study, watching Drew hard at work reading the essays he’d brought home from his classes to grade over the weekend. His dark hair was in disarray and he had those cute little glasses on that he only used for reading. Daye felt that familiar stirring at once. Sam had taken Maia to the park, since it was a beautiful near spring day, and Daye had not so subtly suggested it when she’d breezed in a few minutes ago. She’d convinced Alicia to man the shop for her because she simply had to get out for a while. With every passing moment, as the usual crop of cute college guys streamed in that morning and flirted with her, Daye had felt herself growing more and more… restless. Finally, she’d just had to get out.
Daye was perfectly aware that part of the problem was that she’d spent half the night engrossed in the study of black magic and it had left her feeling… different. The things she’d read about, instead of putting her off, had actually turned her on. She’d never realized the potential power she possessed. All her life she’d taken pains to exercise control, to be responsible. It felt really good to let loose, but it left her craving something… more.
Daye moved silently into the room, not wanting to alert Drew to her presence. She waited a moment when she approached his desk, and then smiling wickedly she proceeded to climb up and crawl across the mahogany surface, scattering his work as she moved.
Drew’s head shot up when Daye suddenly appeared before him, stalking catlike over his desk on her hands and knees. He barely had time to think as he registered the seductive smile she wore, and the fact that she had stripped down before coming at him, revealing a concoction of black lace and silk that barely covered her. Drew glanced once at the door, and then turned his surprised smile on his fiancé.
“Uh, hi, Baby,” Drew said. “You… you’re home early.”
Daye very purposefully had completed her slow crawl across the wooden surface and was currently beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt. She was kneeling on the desk, bent over, so that her hair fell in a long, loose curtain around them. Drew was shocked, but he wasn’t exactly protesting, although he had noticed a definite change in Daye since she’d come back from rescuing Alessa. She had been initiating sex more and more often, and there was a kind of… kinkiness he hadn’t ever seen in her before. Drew didn’t know if he should be worried or fall to his knees thanking whatever forces had seen fit to give him such a gift, but he didn’t want to jinx anything.
Daye had proceeded to divest Drew of his shirt and, crawling right into his lap, went to work on his belt. She was snuggled against his bare chest, and Drew didn’t waste any time taking advantage of the situation. He began to stroke her bare skin and leaned forward to nuzzle and suck at her neck. Daye writhed against him, but didn’t slow down one bit. She soon had his belt open and was going for the zipper on his trousers. Her breathing was already coming in short, harsh gasps.
Drew grabbed hold of Daye’s hands, just as she was about to unzip his pants. He pulled back, aroused beyond belief. “Baby, slow down,” Drew admonished. “The door’s wide open.”
“So?”
Daye’s nonchalant tone surprised him. Usually she was the one putting the brakes on if it was possible that Sam or Maia might come along.
“So, what about Maia?” Drew replied. “Or Sam?”
Daye felt annoyance flair brightly. *Who cares?* she thought. *This has nothing to do with the brat or the houseboy. Goddess, but you’re a stick in the mud, aren’t you darling?*
“Park,” Daye said, grinding against him again. “Now, let go.”
Daye tugged, trying to pull her hands out of Drew’s grasp. Drew grinned broadly at her impatient tone.
“So, we’ve got the whole place to ourselves?” he asked, standing and bringing Daye with him. He placed his hands on her bottom and held her close for a moment, before dropping her back on the desk. Drew walked over to the door and quickly shut it, flipping the lock into place. *Just in case they come home early,* he thought.
Turning around, Drew stopped, just drinking in the sight of the woman he loved. She had turned on the desk, and was once again on her knees. There was a bright, feral light in her green eyes, and her long hair hung down her back in a wild tangle. The lingerie she wore barely contained her ample curves and the look on her face was all hot lust. Drew sauntered back over to her, not even bothering to disguise his interest.
*Oh yes,* Daye thought triumphantly. She sat up, arching her back provocatively. Eyes locked on Drew, she brought her hands up, letting them run down the sides of her body as she slithered on the mahogany desk, scattering more of the papers. *That’s it, big boy, just keep your mind on the task at hand.*
“You feeling all right, Baby?” Drew asked, stopping when he was right at the desk. “Rough day at work?”
Daye closed her eyes, fighting down her annoyance. If it weren’t for the sake of convenience, Daye might actually have looked for someone else to see to the needs clawing at her lately all the time. There was a dark, dangerous tone to her appetites, and Drew was so… nice, way too nice to really satisfy these cravings.
*I need to find someone…* Daye mused. In her mind’s eye a picture of Nikolai surfaced, his eyes flashing angrily at her as they spoke only a few feet from Emma’s grave site. *I bet he’s not such a nice guy.*
Daye sensed a darkness in the man, and that was something that intrigued her, but unfortunately he was nowhere around right now, and she had a pressing need so…
“Rough?” Daye repeated, opening her eyes and flashing a teasing grin at Drew. “Work wasn’t rough, but I wouldn’t mind if you were.”
Drew’s eyes widened at her words. There was that kinky side he’d only recently discovered. Still, there was nothing wrong with spicing things up a little. Shrugging, he reached for Daye, not feeling inclined to too closely examine what was happening just now.
Drew pulled Daye close, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Drew let his hands wander over her as she settled back, supporting her weight on her hands and arching back to offer her body to him. Daye reveled in the feel of his hands on her, but longed for him to let go.
Drew groaned, fighting to rein in his lust as Daye writhed against him, moaning and panting. With one hand, he cupped the back of her head and dragged her up, pressing her body to his bare chest. He ravaged her mouth with his own, while his free hand roamed over her breasts, stroking and kneading with abandon. Daye grabbed hold of his head, tangling her fingers in his silky hair. With her other hand, she went to work on the zipper of his pants.
Drew groaned against her mouth. He could feel the heat coiling low in his belly, and knew he wasn’t going to last very long.
“Baby, baby, baby,” Drew moaned, pulling back to quickly rid Daye of the flimsy scraps of silk and lace that covered her body. Once she was naked against him, he couldn’t hold back any longer.
Drew listened to the things coming out of Daye’s mouth and part of him was shocked, but he was too far gone to really consider the implications. He was in a frenzy, and the feel of her nails scraping down his back, of her teeth as she bit into his bare flesh, that just drove him more out of his mind. Never before had his lust been so uncontrollable. The marvel of it was that Daye seemed not only to be accepting it, but almost to be encouraging him. It was like she wanted him to unleash that animal all men kept so tightly reined.
Finally, his passions at a peak, Drew let out a wild cry and collapsed against Daye. She lay beneath him, drawing in quick, shallow breaths. They were both bathed in sweat. Dimly, Drew realized he was still half dressed. That had never happened between them before as far as he could remember. Smiling bemusedly, he drew back a bit and gazed down at Daye, who looked… bored?
“Baby?” Drew stood up uncertainly.
Daye sat up, waiting impatiently for Drew to move out of her way. She heard the question in his tone. *Great, more talking,* she thought. *What’s his problem now?*
“Yeah,” Daye’s tone was all annoyance as she slipped off the desk and stood, moving away from Drew.
“You okay?” Drew asked, bewildered by the sudden shift in emotions. Daye was stalking towards the door, still completely naked.
“Fine,” she replied, opening the door.
“Where are you going?” Drew asked. He couldn’t figure out what was going on. Amanda was usually a cuddler. She had never been so… unaffected by sex before. She loved to lie with him afterwards and bask. He knew she did. They’d talked about it many times. She’d often said that time was as important, if not more, to her as they sex itself. That’s why he couldn’t figure out what was going on now.
“Shower,” she shot back over her shoulder as she left the room. Drew stared after her for a few long moments, and then refastened his pants. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just been used, and he didn’t like it one bit.
cole and daye take an oath
*** Saturday, March 10, 2007 9pm ***
*** Daye’s old apartment ***
Daye sighed. This place was way too... sunny... for her now. She'd not even been back once since the incident with Ryan. Drew and Sam had insisted on doing the packing and moving out all themselves, and she'd gladly let them, because at the time she'd honestly believed she would never again want to set foot in the apartment.
"Funny how things can change," Daye said to herself as she went about pushing the sofa back against the wall to clear a space in the center of the room. She had a large duffel bag beside her and was a moment later pulling objects out from inside it; dark candles, animal parts, sharpened athames, and the other accoutrements necessary to begin the study and practice of black magic. She quickly set things up, acknowledging that as soon as she could she would have to see about refurnishing all the rooms in the apartment, taking out the bright and organic elements, to make the place more palatable to dark spirits.
The bedroom she'd once occupied would probably be the best bet for her ritual room. Dark energy remained from the painful scene played out there between Drew, Ryan, and her. The rest of the place would require quite a bit of work.
Pulling out the ancient spell books she'd brought with her, Daye was relieved to finally hear the buzzer sound from downstairs. It had taken Cole long enough to get here.
Rising, Daye dusted off the black robe she wore and moved to the hall to buzz the intercom and let the boy in. A few moments later, she was opening the front door to him.
“I know I’m late,” the boy apologized as he entered the apartment and set his backpack down. “My friends and I had to take care of a little unforeseen annoyance,” he smirked, thinking back jovially to the image of Oz being dragged away by the aquaduct's current. “But I’m here now, and that’s what’s important.”
His good manners were unaccustomed to his new attitude, but with Daye things were different. Of all the people he knew, only she could truly understand him, appreciate him for his talents - and for that, she deserved respect.
“Thanks again for this; it means a lot that you would take the time out of your busy schedule.”
Daye nodded, appreciating the boy’s respectful tone. She led him into the partially prepared living room and plucked a length of material from where she'd draped it over the sofa.
"You'll need to change into this," she ordered. "And only this. Nothing should be between you and the material. Anything else might interfere with the flow of energy."
Daye paused and then smirked at Cole. "Later on, we'll be working with more difficult materials and incantations. For that, you'll be required to go sky clad, so..." Daye handed the robe to Cole, "don't be shy, sweetheart."
The teen grabbed the robe awkwardly, but quickly resolved to move past the mundane coils of bashfulness. He would do anything in the quest for power. “Would you mind turning around?” he smiled, as he began to unbutton his shirt. “So, what exactly did you have on today’s itinerary?”
Daye smirked at the boy's bashfulness, but obligingly turned her back. She really didn't need to worry about corrupting the kid physically. She had plenty of opportunities to satisfy the gnawing sexual needs she'd been having lately. It just was so much fun to try and make the kid squirm.
"Oh, a few things," she replied, noticing that there was a dim reflection of Cole in the darkened window before her. "I was thinking of showing you a couple of charms I've been working on, and there's a really powerful glamour... and if you're feeling up to it, I've been working on something of my own, a sort of 'force blast' if you will. That one's a doozy, but it would be very effective on the streets."
Daye paused. "Unless, of course, you've found yourself a home after running out on Darian the way you did."
“So I’m taking it D-man informed the White Hats of our little disagreement?” He considered her comment for a moment, wondering if it was her intent to inform Darian of his whereabouts.
“He wanted to stop me from using my gifts, stop me from doing magic. You of all people can understand why I had to leave,” he said, the voice silently pleading with her to keep all this a secret. “I’m doing fine on my own, I always have, so there’s no need to worry.”
Daye turned and approached Cole, placing a finger under his chin and tilting his face up to her. "Dear boy, I have no intention of telling your 'fairy godmother' where you are, or what you've been up to. You're, for all intents and purposes, my apprentice. That means we share a sacred bond of trust and co-operation. I'll expect loyalty from you and I will grant you the same in return."
A surge of relief washed over him. He wouldn’t have to deal with Darian, at least not before he was ready. “You can expect nothing less,” he smiled sweetly, bathing in the subtle power that lay dormant at the woman’s soft fingertips.
Daye stepped back. She surveyed Cole in the robe for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction.
"Then we are just about ready to begin," Daye turned away and knelt down, retrieving a large, leather bound volume and an athame fro the floor.
She turned to Cole, a serious expression on her face. She approached him solemnly. "There's only one more thing, before we begin."
“I’m assuming there are oaths that are to be taken,” he said, pleased that Daye’s expression seemed impressed. “Ms. Daye, remember, I’m far from a novice.”
"Of course there are," she responded, her lips quirking. "And it's just Daye... or Mistress when necessary."
Opening the spell book to the appropriate incantations, Daye took Cole's hand and led him to the center of the room. She indicated that he should kneel while she inscribed the circle and lit the candles around them, twelve black and one red, thirteen in all. She chanted softly, invoking the dark spirits to their bidding.
"Now, repeat after me," she instructed Cole.
"We invoke the Dark Goddess as our own.
Mistress and Acolyte prostrate before the throne.
Let oaths be spoken and old bonds broken.
We swear to loyalty and silence on penalty of violence."
Daye drew the athame across first her palm and then Cole's. She clutched his hand tightly and let their mixed blood drip down onto the runes on the floor. A faint humming filled the room, and dark shadows swirled around them.
"Blood to blood, power to power, we are bound as one, Child and Teacher, Mother and Son."
"By my oath am I bound,
by my power am I found.
From this day to the end of time,
May this vow remain forever mine."
Daye released Cole's hand.
"Both souls hear and swear this,
seal the bond through darkness' kiss."
Daye leaned forward and brought her mouth down on Cole's. He tasted sweet power in the momentary embrace. She drew back and bowed her head for a moment, and when she looked up, she was smiling wickedly.
"It is done," Daye pronounced, standing and closing the ritual. She bent down and offered Cole her hand to help him to his feet.
Cole accepted his new mistress’ hand, bringing himself up to his full height. “Now, on to the fun stuff.”
daye and drew have it out
*** Sunday, March 11, 2007 around 7 pm ***
*** Daye’s House ***
Drew paced around the living room, glancing again and again at the clock on the mantle. Daye had gone out early this morning, leaving a note on the dresser that he’d only found when he awoke. She hadn’t said where she’d be or when she’d be back, but Drew was growing more and more concerned as the day wore on. She’d missed dinner, and she hadn’t even called once. That was unlike her. Usually whenever she had errands to run she would call home a couple of times to check in on them, but for some reason, not today.
*Like that’s the only thing you’ve noticed,* Drew’s inner voice chided. *She’s been acting more and more erratic lately, but you keep trying to ignore it.*
Drew sighed. That voice was all too right. He didn’t want to acknowledge that there was anything wrong with his fiancé, but he couldn’t ignore what was going on forever. Like her way of dressing now, this had become so blatantly sexy that it made him uncomfortable to even think of her leaving the house alone. She’d started wearing clothes she used to only wear when they went out on the town every day for work. He’d seen more of her legs… and breasts… the last few days then he could ever remember seeing outside of the bedroom before. He couldn’t deny that he was jealous, either, but that was only part of the problem. The real issue was that as Daye acted less and less like herself, he found himself growing more and more afraid. It was too reminiscent of what had happened with Ryan and Mother Mariah.
“Please, God, let me be overreacting,” Drew pleaded to the empty room. He was so scared of losing Daye again, and of what that might do to him. He had been barely able to get past what happened before. How could he hope to cope with something like that again?
Drew’s desperate thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. He didn’t hesitate to rush, and was in the hallway when Daye set down the bundle of bags and boxes she was carrying.
“Oh, Baby,” Drew was flooded with relief. “There you are. I’ve been so worried about you.”
Drew rushed over to take Daye into his arms, sighing. “I thought maybe something happened to you.”
Daye turned to look at Drew, her eyes narrowing. *Great!* she thought. *Now he’s starting to sound like my dad or something.*
“I was out,” she replied coolly. “Like I said in my note. I had some stuff to do.”
“Stuff?” Drew’s tone was bewildered. “You had stuff to do? What kind of stuff? You’ve been gone all day and you usually stay home on Sunday, and you never called. I was worried.”
Daye stared at him as if he’d grown an extra head. “And?”
“And?” Drew blew out a frustrated breath. She was being so… distant. “And it’s Sunday, and we always spend the whole day together on Sunday… you know, the family… and you never even called.”
“I was busy,” Daye retorted. “And I really didn’t feel like the whole family thing, ok? I mean, Goddess, what’s the big deal? We see each other every day, Drew. It’s not like one freaking Sunday makes that much of a difference, right?”
When she put it that way, Drew felt sort of dumb. *What the hell am I so upset about?*
*We do see each other all the time,* he thought. *I mean, she’s entitled to spend a day alone, even if she never has wanted to before.*
“Ok,” Drew began, “maybe I’m a little…”
Drew’s voice trailed off as he finally took notice of what Daye was wearing. He stopped and stared, dumbfounded.
Daye saw Drew’s expression and laughed. “Oh, you like?” she asked, turning so he could get a good look. She was dressed in a barely there skirt, black leather, with zippers on the side that were currently unzipped nearly to her waist, and a black, see through halter top. He could see her nipples through the material.
Drew shook his head in wonder. “Like?” he choked out. “Uhm… I… no… I don’t think… Why are you dressed like that?”
Daye sighed in annoyance. Of course, her fuddy duddy fiancé was not impressed with her new look. Well, that was just too bad, because she liked feeling like this. She liked the way men watched her as she passed by in these clothes. That’s why she’d gone out this morning in the first place, to find a whole new wardrobe for the whole new her.
Daye had realized over the past few days that she had power, more than she’d ever been aware of. She was a witch, and with the aid of the ancient texts she’d begun to study, she was finally beginning to understand what that meant. The thing was, she was also a woman, and that in itself was a kind of power. She could make men do things, want things, just by being what she was. She had sexuality and that could be used as well as her magic could. Daye found that idea stimulating. She’d started toying with the idea of bringing all her power to bear… on the right man. She could make someone her slave.
“I like the way I look,” Daye responded, picking up her packages and gliding past Drew on the way to the stairs. She didn’t bother to pause or look back as she carried them into the bedroom. Drew was forced to trail after her. “I feel… sexy.”
Drew nodded, unable to deny that fact. She looked like sex personified, but the problem was, she’d been parading around the city in that get up apparently all day. Drew tried to be sensitive, and patient. God knew he tried, but lately, she’d just been acting so strange. He had this urge to grab her and shake her, to force her to act normal.
“Baby, I don’t know what’s going on here, but…” Drew began.
Daye spun around and glared at him. “But what? What’s the problem? I swear it’s like you’re an old man or something. I’m not indecent you know. And I’m not ancient either. Why should I dress like The Madonna or something? I’m a beautiful… young… woman, and I decided I like that, and I want to flaunt it. Is there something wrong with that?”
Drew pulled back at the cutting tone of her voice. She was looking at him as if he were a rather annoying species of insect. “I don’t see what was wrong with the way you dress. I think you’re beautiful… womanly… and subtle. What the hell is wrong with that?”
Daye heard the rising anger and disbelief in Drew’s words and it felt good. Maybe she could shake him up a bit. Maybe this fuddy duddy wasn’t a total loss after all. She would just have to keep pushing and see.
“What’s wrong with that is that it’s just not who I am,” Daye retorted, moving towards him, her shoulders squared and her chin raised defiantly.
“Since when?” Drew was truly bewildered by her belligerence. If he didn’t know better, he would have assumed she wanted to start a fight. Except Daye hated to fight.
“Since now,” Daye had come to stand right before Drew, nearly touching him with her barely covered body. Her eyes glittered dangerously as she stared up at him.
Drew narrowed his eyes, and set his jaw. This was ridiculous. It was like Amanda was becoming someone else right before his eyes, and it was not someone he found himself liking all that much.
“Amanda, this is insane,” Drew stated flatly. “This isn’t you. I know you.”
“Maybe you don’t,” she retorted. “Maybe you only see what you want to see. I’m tired of trying to live up to other people’s expectations of whom and what I should be. If you don’t like me for who I am, too bad. There are plenty of guys who would.”
Drew pulled back as if he’d been slapped. There was an angry, wounded look on his face. “What the hell does that mean? What are you saying? You’re not making any sense. None of this makes any sense.”
Daye snorted. Of course it didn’t make sense to him. Drew was only interested in her being the “good little girl”. The minute she started to stand up for herself, to be more assertive, he and everyone else freaked out. Well, that was just tough. She wasn’t going to back down just to make them all more comfortable. This was the new Daye and they were all going to have to either learn to live with it or else take a powder. She didn’t have the time or the inclination to be bothered with this whiny, touchy feely crap.
“Seriously, I don’t care if you understand this,” Daye replied, stepping back from him and rolling her eyes. “It’s my life and my body, and my decision as to what I’ll do with both. You can go along with that, or you can take a hike. I don’t need a daddy or a watchdog either, and frankly, I’m really bored with this.”
Drew’s face flushed. He clenched his fists at his sides and struggled to control the raging pain her words caused. “I… you…” he sputtered.
Daye smirked, tensing. She wanted his anger. She craved his fury. Maybe then, she’d get some real passion out of the oh-so-proper Professor Langley.
Drew reined in his temper and turned away from Daye, unwilling to risk looking at her any longer. “I don’t know why you want to hurt me, or make me mad, but I love you… and I’m not going anywhere.”
Daye shrugged. He’d calmed himself, and that just meant he was boring her again. She was done. “Well, in that case, I guess I will,” she said, turning towards the door. “I’m sure I can find something fun to do somewhere else.”
Drew didn’t turn around as he heard her leave. He struggled to fight down the tears that threatened. It seemed he was losing Amanda all over again, and just like before, he had no idea why.
daye lures nik to the bibliophile
*** Sunday, March 11, 2007 10 pm ***
*** The Bibiliophile ***
Daye sat on the floor in the center of the bookshop. She had cleared out the furniture and with deliberate care prepared the circle on the bare floor. She had never before tried to inscribe such a thing, so close to the circles of protection she normally used, but in small, yet significant ways, so very different. She had undressed and prepared herself with ancient symbols taken from her studied texts. With each movement in preparation, Daye felt the floodgates of sinister power opening to fill her.
Finally, when she was prepared, the candles lit, Daye proceeded to seat herself, facing the door.
Daye intoned in Latin, extinguishing the white three white candles arranged to her right.
“Expugno lumen, Nillus lux,
Vis Levis, Luciens Nux.”
Daye repeated the process with all three candles, until all the light was extinguished. She then rose to her knees and bent to light the trio of black candles to her left, calling forth the dark goddess.
When the ritual was complete and the power invoked, Daye settled down once more on the floor in the middle of the sigil. Before her were three blood red candles, a cauldron, and her athame.
Daye held in her hand herbs, which the threw into the cauldron, filled with bubbling water. She then drew forth the athame and made a shallow cut in her own wrist, allowing her blood to drip, three fat drops, into the cauldron. As she did so, she spoke.
“Goddess of night, I command thee,
Bring unto me my heart's desire.
By dark earth and wild sea
Draw forth Nikolai to the fire.
Heat like passion kindle and burn
Bring him to me and make him yearn.”
Daye fixed the picture of Nikolai in her mind and focused as she repeated the incantation, lighting each red candle and sending the magic out of her in waves. When the spell was complete, she sat back, cross legged in the circle to wait.
Damen almost choked in mid-swallow as he heard Nikolai speaking to him. After the offer to take care of the agreement, he almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You actually got Gromyoko's people to agree to help us?"
Nikolai nodded at that. "That's right. In fact, Svetlana seemed quite pleased with the arrangement."
"So, what do you need me for?"
"Illana Toren. I need her number to get in touch with her, to set up the meeting."
Damen nodded, writing down the number before sliding it across the table to him. "Here you go... you ok, pal?"
"Hmmm, what? Oh, I'm fine," Nikolai replied, trying to relax. Where had that image come from? There he was, trying to work out how to best set up this deal and then... Amanda, his girlfriend's boss, naked. The image just popped in there.
"Izvenecha," Nikolai excused himself, before going deliberately into the sun room and closing the door before dialing Bibliophile. *Maybe that's it, just a sign that she wants to talk.* Why was it seeming harder to think clearly?
Daye smiled in triumph when the ringing phone cut through the silence in the room. *That would be Nikolai,* she thought rising to her feet. She carefully stepped out of the circle and took hold of the phone receiver, holding it to her ear.
"Hello," Daye's voice was a husky purr. "Kolya?"
Nikolai blinked in shock. There was that quality again, he didn't even need to be with her to know that she was excited to say the least. "Da," he replied softly. What the hell was he doing? And why was still thinking about her in that way?
Daye could feel the connection to him through the spell, and she was tingling with excitement as she spoke.
"I need you to come over to the shop," she injected a note of panic into her voice. "Please?"
"What is wrong?" he immediately asked out of concern, though he knew that he would use any excuse as his mind filled with the image of her long red hair... *No, I shouldn't be thinking this.*
Daye smiled even more broadly. "There's... I'm not sure... I think perhaps you should just come over. I don't think I can explain over the phone. Please, Kolya, I need you."
"All right, I'll be right there," he assured her, before hanging up. *Now you're just going to see what's got her so disturbed, right?* he rationalized it to himself. Not that he couldn't guess what the problem was with the way that she sounded.
"Trig, I'll be back shortly," he said returning to the living room.
“Why? What's up?"
"Nothing much, I just got a thing to take care of." Nikolai hoped that he would not enquire.
Trigger did not disappoint him, when he bounded down the stairs and drove at as fast a pace as he could to Bibliophile, ringing the bell of the shop.
Daye sauntered over to the door, and with a deft flick of her wrist, twisted the lock.
"Come in, Kolya," she called out, stepping back a couple of feet.
Nikolai stepped into the shop carefully, instincts of a dangerous man kicking in. They were alone, he could tell, and the shop illuminated by candlelight only.
"What's the problem, Amanda?" he asked, his eyes falling across her. The light flickering across her body revealed her form entirely naked save for arcane symbols, and he felt a burning need while looking at her, feeling her own feelings of lust.
"I should think, Kolya, that should be obvious," Daye said, moving boldly forward. She didn't stop until her naked body was pressed up against him.
"The only question is... can you help me with this particular problem?" Daye bent forward as she spoke, until her mouth was brushing Nikolai's. Her words whispered against his lips.
Nikolai looked up into her eyes, unable to control the rising feelings within himself. Part of him screamed at himself, there was a complete lack of any sort of tender feelings or connection. It reminded him that not a few days before he was standing there, disturbed by the way that Watchers regarded demons. That part was, sadly, being forcefully overridden.
*Come now, dear Kolya. Do you really think that you actually want this woman?*
"Yes," he answered her, bringing his hand up to her face before their lips met in an act of primordial desire.
Daye exulted in the double pleasure of having this man succumb to both her desire and her power. She sank into the kiss, battling his tongue with her own while her body flooded with purely animal lust.
Daye slid her hands down Nikolai's shoulders and brought them to the waistband of his pants, tugging to free his tucked in shirt. Not breaking the kiss for even a moment, she pressed her hands up under his shirt, running them over his bare torso.
Tearing away from his hungry mouth, Daye started trailing small bites down his jaw.
"I knew you were the man for the job," Daye whispered, slipping the shirt from his shoulders and pressing her body even closer into his.
Nikolai did not think, only acted, bringing his mouth down to kiss hers again as he moved his hands passionately over her body. All sense of reason was abandoned as they grabbed at each other. *Kolya...*
He let his hands move up to run through her hair, stopping just long enough to breathe. "I need you," he heard himself say. *Oh why do I even bother when I know you won't listen?* "What do you want?"
Daye pulled back, her green eyes smoldering. "For starters..."
She slid slowly down Nikolai's body, until she was kneeling before him. She gazed up, making sure she was watching as she toyed with the button on his pants.
Daye flipped open the button on Nikolai's pants, and slowly dragged them down him body, making sure her fingernails scraped against his skin. She reveled at the slow hiss as he drew in his breath.
Still in her submissive pose before him, Daye gazed up at him, her smile wild and wicked. "Oh, I definitely think you're well equipped for this particular problem, Kolya."
Nikolai smiled back down at her, just admiring the way she looked when the insistent nagging of a fictional voice finally broke through some. To see reason, when he remembered before... he couldn't bring himself to do something with her that she would regret in the morning.
"Wait," he said dropping down in front of her. "I know, the other day... um... you know I'm half-demon in at least some sense, right? Wouldn't the Council frown upon this?"
Daye frowned at his sudden change of subject. Then she laughed derisively. "The Council?" she asked. "For all I care, the Council can go hang themselves. They objected to Ryan too, but..." Daye trailed off, faltering for just a moment. The mention of Ryan, the thought of him, reminded her of Drew and of the beautiful ring on her left hand.
*Am I crazy? Why am I doing this?*
Then Daye caught sight of Nikolai kneeling before her, his body mere inches from her own, and that tiny voice of reason, the one which had been growing dimmer and dimmer over the last week, was finally drowned out.
"I haven't got any problem with demons, Kolya... half or whole," she said, reaching out to cup his cheek. "Actually, I find variety to be the spice of life."
Leaning forward so that her body brushed his, Daye pressed her mouth to his once more.
*I would give you two some privacy if I could....* Nikolai accepted her, drawing her body into his. At last the voice of reason fell silent in him as well, overtaken as he was by a need to be with her, to do anything. Trapped in passionate desire, he felt her hands trailing over his body in the embrace. "I need you," he got out. "Just tell me what you want, anything you want."
"Anything I want," Daye repeated, thinking about the things she'd learned lately, the desires she couldn't seem to control. Nikolai was in her thrall. He wouldn't object, sling accusations the way Drew had. He wanted her and he was more than willing to let her explore these dark, dangerous passions. Here was that answering darkness she’d sensed in him, barely controlled, simmering beneath the surface. Here was the pleasure and pain she’d been craving. Nikolai was the man who could give it to her.
"Are you sure, Kolya," Daye asked, taking hold of both his hands. Because there are things... things I've never done... places we could go together... if you're sure."
That little nagging voice was too shocked to say anything at all in reply. He was seriously considering going through with it. A statement as ambiguous as that.
It was too bad for Nikolai that rational thought had left long ago, as the overarching passion took over him. Leaning forward he kissed her gently, as a lover might in promise to explore faithfully though lacking any of the affection. "Yes," he said. "I'm sure, I meant it when I said anything."
Daye took hold of Nikolai guiding him down until he lay on the floor. She slithered over his body. Her hands roamed over him, nails biting into his flesh. She explored every inch of exposed skin with her mouth as well, scraping her teeth over his shoulder, tracing the lines of his body.
She wasn't gentle, wasn't careful. She left scratches and bite marks in her wake as she unleashed the fiery beast within.
"Kolya, touch me," Daye urged hoarsely. "Let loose and touch me. I want to feel your hands on my body, rough and wild. Touch me… you won’t hurt me."
Touch me... Kolya, touch me," Daye's low moan was like a dark incantation as she brought his hands up to cup her breasts. She arched her back and hissed at the contact.
Nikolai felt the passion threatening to completely overtake him, their bodies writhing about on the floor. Demanding more, to surrender control. Telling him not to worry about hurting her. *THIS IS RIDICULOUS!*
For once, the voice of reason shot through clearly, and Nikolai pushed Daye back with enough force to send her sprawling on the floor. At first she looked pleased with the turn of events, then disappointed as Nikolai sprang to his feet, grabbing his pants and trying desperately to get back into them.
"What..." he trailed off, taking in the sight of her again covered in symbols, as though really noticing the place for the first time. "You... why?"
Daye sprawled on the floor at Nikolai's feet, her smile fading as she realized that somehow her spell had been broken. She was caught, and Nik certainly didn't look all that pleased with the turn of events.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly got to her feet, standing boldly before him as Nikolai finally managed to get his pants on and buttoned. Sighing, Daye tossed the long tangle of curls out of her face and smiled ruefully at him.
"Damn, I must have mixed something up somewhere," she said, frowning. "Oh well..."
Nikolai felt used and rather insulted. To his way of thinking, this kind of thing wasn't something you did to someone you cared about. It would be something you did to an enemy, either inflicting it on them or someone close to them. Still there was something a bit off, her casual indifference didn't seem like something that she would do since the first time he met her. *Or it's the fact that she's a Watcher.* *Let's not be paranoid.*
"I didn't ask what you did," he returned, giving in to the anger. He felt a need to vent, and wasn't about to listen to reason more than he had to. "I wanted to know why? Is it because I'm part-demon, or just because I'm dating one of your employees?"
Daye stared at him for a moment, stirred by this passion as much as by the one she'd forced upon him.
"Kolya, sweetheart, why would you think either one matters?" she asked, deliberately stepping towards him. She was forcing him to back away or to endure her closeness.
"Do you underestimate your own appeal?" she asked, lust still blazing from her eyes. "I did it because I wanted you. I'm sorry you don't seem to be inclined now. Although, if I'm mistaken..."
Nikolai responded without thinking, bringing his hand around to slap her hard in the face for the mere suggestion. To hell with the consequences, to hell with odd behavior. There were some things you just didn't suggest to a man.
"Listen," he started, his voice low and cold, "very carefully. I love Alicia. That means I don't appreciate you treating me like some nyekulturny kholkoz to be used for your own pleasure and then discarded."
Daye's hand flew to her cheek, but she smiled coldly. "Fine, Kolya, no need for hard feelings," she purred. "I don't see how Alicia has anything to do with this, but I can accept that you're not willing. I'm sure I can find someone else to take your place. It's a pity though. I definitely think you have... something special."
Daye stepped boldly up to him, pressing up against him once more. She brought her mouth to within inches of him once again. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."
Daye stepped back and smiled lazily down at him. "And really, Kolya, I didn't mean for you to be insulted. You're a very attractive man, and I'm a woman who appreciates men. Seriously, no harm, no foul."
Daye turned her back on him, sauntering over to begin picking up the accoutrements of the spell. She'd pretty much dismissed him from her mind.
Nikolai's immediate response to all of this was to give a rather loud curse in Russian before spitting on the floor, then turning sharply to leave. He paid the woman no further attention at all, though part of him wished she would try something.
Two things were obvious, though, in retrospect as he got into the car. He needed protection against her doing anything like this again, and he needed to find someone who knew her better to find out if this was even close to normal.
One Night Stand – Part One: Just A Shoulder to Cry On
***Sunday, 11 March 2007 - 10:54pm - Outside Nikolai’s Apartment Block***
Kate had been aimlessly walking the streets of L.A. for a good hour when she found herself standing outside Nikolai's apartment block. She looked up at the dizzying tower; a light drizzling mist had begun to fall, giving the city a depressing atmosphere that suited her mood perfectly.
She really needed a friend right now, someone who she could talk to, someone who would know implicitly what she was feeling without her having to explain everything. She hadn’t intended to fall upon this particular friend’s doorstep, though in hindsight she could understand what led her here. Nikolai might not be her closest friend but she felt that she could talk to him in a way that she couldn’t with Tash or Daye. With that final thought still in her mind Kate set up the stairs towards Nikolai's apartment.
Once at the door she almost changed her mind again. The pain of everything that had happened in the last few days hung heavy in her heart, making Kate question whether she could go through it all again. Throughout that time the only people she had been able to rely upon had been her friends, in truth she didn’t know how she’d have been able to cope so far without them. Tash, Nikolai and Daye especially. She was more than conscious of the fact that she’d been unburdening herself on everyone lately and although nobody had said anything, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was becoming a tiresome imposition that everyone would be better off without.
But then where else could she go? Whom should she turn to? She couldn't go home, not after the fight she'd had with Galen, to see him again after everything that had been said... it would just be more than she could bear right now. Koyla was a good friend… hopefully with a comfortable couch that she could crash on…
After one more moment's hesitation Kate raised her hand and knocked on the door.
Damen reclined more comfortably in Nik’s leather Barker-Lounger, a bottle of some imported Russian beer in one hand while the other caressed the buttons on the chair’s remote control, sending delicious electronic vibrations down his tired spine. He sighed as he closed his eyes; he figured he may as well make himself comfortable while he waited for Nik to return from wherever the hell he’d rushed out to in such a hurry. Besides, he thought, raising the beer to his lips with a grin, Nik’s apartment was stocked for a long night-in and he may as well drink someone else’s beer than buy his own.
As the knock came at the door, Tolstoy jumped up on his lap with a surprised ‘meow’. Damen rose to his feet, knocking the furball of a cat onto the floor as he walked over to answer the door. He didn’t think Nikolai was expecting anyone that night except maybe that chick Alicia who always seemed to be hanging around him lately.
*Or it could be that cheapskate landlord…* he thought as he turned the lock, with just a passing glance through the peephole before opening the door wide. He recognised the woman immediately as the mystic he’d visited several months ago at the Bibliophile when Nikolai went missing. Since then he knew his old friend had grown quite close to her during his whole ‘life altering experience’ with that Xangyarj demon L’Than. He wasn’t sure what part this Catherine woman had played in all that but he knew it had been integral to Nikolai’s sanity.
Looking at her now though, he knew something was wrong. She looked terribly upset and dishevelled, not to mention freezing cold, like she’d been walking the streets for hours or something.
“Hi,” he said, trying to muster his least threatening voice, “something I can do for you?”
"Oh," said Kate, barely able to hide both her surprise and disappointment at not being faced with Nikolai. She felt immediately self-conscious of her wild appearance and attempted to compensate, wiping at her tear-streaked face and anxiously tucking her hair behind her ears.
"I, um, I was looking for Nikolai..." she said, fighting to keep her unstable emotions under control. Already she could feel the burden of that task taking its toll, and her breath quickened slightly, catching in her throat as she willed herself not to start crying. *Please let him be in, please let him be in,* she thought over and over.
Damen frowned apologetically at the woman, who was obviously upset about something and probably wanted to talk it over with Nik. *Though the way that kruglyj durak – as Nik would say – has been acting lately, it’s probably better that he’s not here,* he thought with a roll of his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh, taking a swig from the bottle of beer he still held in his hand. “Nik had to head out for a bit, not sure when he’ll be back to be honest though he said he wouldn’t be long. You can come in and wait if you want?”
Kate was taken aback by the man’s soft tone and obvious concern. She remembered Damen Kirk from the first time she'd met him and he was the absolute last person she would expect to offer a shoulder to cry on.
"I... I..." Kate stammered, not exactly sure what to do. She didn't want to go home that was for sure but she also didn't want to have to sit and make small talk with someone either, especially not someone like Damen Kirk. "I, I don't want to impose," she said finally, "do you think he'll be long?"
“Well y’know Nik, he says one thing, does another these days,” Damen chuckled to himself slightly then stopped when he realised the woman obviously wasn’t in the mood for jokes. From her visibly distressed state he didn’t think it would be a very good idea for her to be out on her own, though in all honesty he had no idea how long Nikolai would be. “Why don’t you come in and I can give him a call?”
"I, well I guess I could wait, for a short while," said Kate, already regretting her decision as soon as the words had left her mouth. "If that's not too much trouble?"
"No trouble at all," smiled Damen, standing aside to let Kate in. He could tell she didn’t really want to be there alone with him but then the alternative was to just be alone, and that prospect was obviously much more unsavoury.
Kate wandered inside the apartment, glancing around before seating herself down on the couch. Outside the window, the skies had grown heavy and overcast, the previous light drizzle having degenerated into a downpour. She sighed. Suddenly Tolstoy jumped up into her lap, startling Kate somewhat as he began purring and fussing about, wanting to be petted.
Damen chuckled at the cat as he picked up the phone and quickly dialled Nikolai's mobile number. He waited anxiously as the phone continued to ring, eventually switching onto voicemail. *Fucking Hell Nik!* he swore inwardly, slamming down the handset. *Great time to drop off the face of the fuckin’ earth!*
At Kate’s questioning glance he smiled sheepishly, “Voicemail I’m afraid. Don’t worry I’ll try again later.” At the sound of the heavy rain battering against the window he continued, "Look, you don’t want to go outside in this weather, why don’t you stay? Have a drink? Give it half an hour and if Nik doesn’t show up I’ll call you a cab? Can’t say fairer than that.”
Kate smiled weakly and nodded, gently stroking behind Tolstoy’s ears as he continued to purr and then, spying some shadow in a darkened corner, leapt off her lap to go and investigate.
“Cats are fickle creatures,” Damen commented as Tolstoy ran off in the direction of the den. “But you have to admit,” he added with a chuckle, “they’re smarter than dogs, you can’t get eight cats to pull a sled through the snow after all. …So, how about that drink?”
"That would be nice,” said Kate, still feeling kind of awkward though she could tell Damen was trying his best to put her at ease. The problem was she was about an inch away from breaking down in tears and it was taking all her strength just to hold it back.
"Okay, let's see what we have…" Damen started into the kitchen, heading straight for the refrigerator. “Hmmm, okay, I’ve got juice – orange, apple, grapefruit, tea, Perrier?” he picked up the bottle of sparkling water and turned it over in his hands with a chuckle, “Since when did you become gay Nik?” He continued to search the cupboards until he straightened up, a smile spreading across his face.
“Okay, now here’s what I’m talking about!” Damen held up a bottle of vodka with triumph as he returned to the living room, handing Kate a glass. “One thing about Russians, they sure know their vodka.”
“Oh… no, I shouldn’t,” protested Kate as Damen filled her glass with the chilled liquor. She could still remember how her last hangover had felt and she had no desire to have a repeat performance of that night.
“Come on,” encouraged Damen amicably, slumping down in the chair opposite, “you’re chilled to the bone and this’ll warm you up a treat. Besides, you look like you could use it.”
“Well I guess a little drink wouldn’t hurt,” Kate said with a slight smile, taking the drink and looking at it thoughtfully. She really shouldn’t, she wasn’t an ‘experienced’ drinker by any means and any alcohol always went right to her head.
Damen watched Kate carefully as she nursed her drink between her hands. “Tell me to mind my own business if you want, but I can’t help but notice… something’s wrong isn’t it? You wanna talk about it?”
“It’s a long story…” she said tiredly, still looking at the drink. One little drink wouldn’t hurt… and she really could do with it, especially if she was going to be talking about Galen and Emma.
“My husband and I had a fight,” Kate said quietly, dipping a finger in the cold liquid and then tracing the rim. Suddenly she lifted the glass to her lips and drank the whole thing in one go, spluttering a bit as the strong liquor took her breath away.
Inhaling deeply, Kate took up the bottle and poured another glassful, holding it contemplatively for a moment before gulping that down too. The vodka felt raw and hot, burning in her stomach like a wild fire - it reminded her of the last time she’d got drunk. Tash had found her then, sprawled out in the backyard, barely conscious on the eve of Emma’s funeral. That memory flooded Kate’s mind, a painful reminder of everything that she’d lost, her daughter - her darling, beautiful, sweet, innocent, blameless daughter.
She could feel Damen's eyes on her but she didn't care, she didn't care about anything right now. She cradled the empty glass in her hands as she sat back in the sofa with a deep sigh. Kate shook her head in dismay before leaning forward and refilled her glass again. "It was pretty bad."
*That would explain the need for a stiff drink,* Damen thought, watching as she filled her glass for a third time. If she didn’t pace herself he’d have to carry her home at this rate! He'd seen this kind of story play out between couples before and it never was good when the fight was bad enough to drive one of them out of the house and to drink at the same time.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he said kindly, his sympathetic side emerging. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"
Kate didn’t want to tell him, not at all. She didn’t want anyone to know… and yet she felt herself desperate to tell someone, just to make sure that she wasn’t being completely irrational.
Damen reached out and took the glass from her trembling hand, placing it back on the table so that she didn’t drop it. He could tell she was close to breaking down in tears especially as she buried her head in her hands, covering her face as her body shook a few times with the power of the emotions she was feeling.
Gently he placed a hand on her knee, “You can tell me… whatever it is, I won’t judge you.”
Kate looked up at him uncertainly, tears already brimming in her eyes. She carefully wiped them away on her sleeve, sniffling a bit. “Our daughter died…” she paused for a moment, taking several short breaths in an attempt to try to control herself, “hardly two weeks ago. She was only nine months old… Neither of us is dealing with it very well..."
Kate closed her eyes, hearing Galen's bitter accusations ringing in her ears as tears began to flow freely down her cheeks. ”You’re a selfish woman Kate… you should have been putting our daughter first all those months ago… she depended on you to keep her safe!”
"Galen…” she began hesitantly, “My, my husband, he... ...he blames me for what happened."
Kate could feel her control beginning to unravel and she broke down completely, her chest heaving with the power of her sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she mumbled weakly, rising to her feet and wobbling a little as the rush of alcohol hit her. "I, I just can't do this, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"No, no… it's okay," Damen reassured her, trying to decide if he should try to comfort her or not. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t about to let her leave in such a state. He rose to his feet quickly, taking Kate’s hands gently in his own.
"Rule number one, remember? Men are idiots, myself included." He laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood though he knew it would take more than a dumb joke to do that. *Just how stupid is her husband?* he wondered, *They lose their daughter and he reacts by blaming his wife? What a fucking jerk!*
“I’m just guessing here,” he added gently, “but if this was an argument, maybe it was just something said in the heat of the moment, easy done, I should know.” That last was an understatement, thought Damen with a suppressed chuckle. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d said something during a blind rage and then regretted it later.
"I just don't know what to do," Kate said, sniffling a little as she let Damen lead her back to the sofa. She sat down and he sat beside her, holding her hands comfortingly. "I love him so much... he means the world to me and he just… he hates me…”